But Aly was staring at me with an expression of utter dismay. “Jack, no!” she cried.
I felt something thud against my chest and found myself flying backward through the air. Marco leaped out of my way but I collided with Cass, and we both tumbled to the wet ground.
“You morons!” Aly shouted. “Jack! Cass! Are you okay?”
Massarym barked a laugh. His pals howled. Uhla’ar’s stony expression softened into a scornful grin. I sat up. My chest was killing me, but I didn’t care. “It’s so amazing to see you, Aly,” I said.
She was crying. “You, too, Jack. And Marco. And Cass. And Torquin.” She wiped a tear away. “Wait . . . Torquin?”
“It’s actually Qalani,” Marco said. “She’s borrowing Torquin’s body. Turns out, he’s a step up from a monkey. Who knew?”
Hearing the flurry of English, the guards looked at each other in confusion. They were beginning to clutch the hilts of their daggers.
Aly sighed. “Guys, keep your distance from these goons. They can be brutal. Things are starting to get bad here. Qalani has just perfected the Loculi and Massarym has already begun stealing—”
“Silence!” Uhla’ar bellowed. “Do not make me attempt to speak English!”
“Aw, please,” Marco said. “Just one time through the Scooby-Doo song.”
“Watch it, Marco!” Aly shrieked.
With a blindingly fast flick of the wrist, Massarym’s guard flung a dagger at Marco. But he contorted his body to one side in a kind of ninja hip-hop move. The knife whizzed past his chest so fast that it sent up a spray from the heavy rain.
“Dang, now how are you going to cut me a sandwich?” Marco said. “Qalani, don’t translate that.”
A distant thunderclap boomed. Massarym silently dismounted from his horse. One of his men jumped off with an umbrella that looked like it was made from animal skin. He held it over the prince’s head as they walked together toward the tremendous green blob. With the Sphinx in its mouth, it stared upward into the rain through lidless eyes. The motionless hindquarters of the Egyptian beast were already matted and wet. I couldn’t tell if either creature was alive or dead.
Massarym drew his sword and plunged it into the Behemoth’s gut. The creature jolted. Its mouth stretched open, and the ragged Sphinx flopped lifelessly onto the wet grass. The Behemoth writhed and roared, shocked back to life after its trip through the rift. It tried to bite Massarym, who stepped nimbly out of its way but kept his sword firmly in place, yanking it left and then right.
The green beast howled as its body sliced in two. In the gusher of yellow fluid and entrails, the Loculus of Language rolled onto the wet grass.
With a triumphant smile, Massarym lifted the orb. Behind him the Behemoth was regenerating a new body before our eyes, quivering and slithering toward the jungle. The Sphinx lay motionless, just barely breathing.
Massarym held out the orb to me and nodded. Pretty clearly, he wanted me to take it. It was covered with yellow goo, but Massarym didn’t seem like the kind of guy you said no to.
As he dropped it in my hands, I fought back the urge to hurl.
“No doubt you are wondering two things,” he said. “How did I know where the Loculus was? And how did I know that it was the Loculus of Language, which you could use to comprehend me?”
His Atlantean was perfectly understandable to me now. “Right now I’m wondering how I can keep down my lunch,” I said. “But, yeah. Those, too.”
I didn’t know for sure what language I was speaking. But Massarym got the meaning and Cass, Marco, Eloise, and Aly were looking at me blankly, so it must have been Atlantean.
Massarym drew his face close to mine. His guard wasn’t quick enough with the umbrella; I could feel the rain glancing off the prince’s nose and into my own face. “I am connected to the Loculi in a deep way,” Massarym said. “I know where each one is at all times. What I don’t know is how you petty thieves could have gotten them. But I don’t really care. Because when thieves are eliminated, so is theft.”
“I didn’t—we didn’t—we just got here!” I stammered. “Sir. Your highness. See, we’re from—”
“Enough.” He held his sword high, nearly slicing through the umbrella, and another guard raced toward him with an animal-skin cloth, quickly wiping the sword of all the yellow blobby stuff the rain had not yet washed away.
“No—no, don’t! I haven’t even been born yet!” I cringed at my own words. “It’s hard to explain. We’re from the future. I live in Belleville, Indiana.”
He cocked his head.
“Am I speaking Atlantean?” I said.
“Yes, but your words make no sense,” Massarym said. “It is only the suspicion that you are crazy that makes me take pity.”
“Good,” I said. “Pity is good. But I’m not crazy. And I’m also innocent—”
“Oh?” Massarym said, bringing his sword to his side. “All right, then, I’m not an unreasonable guy. Tell me, how did my six Loculi disappear—only to show up in your possession?”
“Um . . . disappear?” I said.
“They were locked up in a chest, guarded by my most loyal men day and night,” Massarym went on. “Not more than a few minutes ago, when I saw they were gone, I nearly executed my own best men on the spot. But I knew not one of them had the cunning or stupidity to do such a thing.” He pointed to the Loculus in my hand. “And here are two Loculi, before my eyes. One in your hand, and the other, if I’m not mistaken, is the Loculus of Flight in a pack on your back.”
I could feel my body shaking. There were rules about time travel. Bhegad had talked about this, in one of the many lectures he’d given us when we first got to the island. I’d forgotten so much of our training, but this stayed in my brain. According to logic it is impossible, he said. But science has strange ways. If time travel were to occur, certain things could simply not happen. They would violate the laws of nature. Like killing an ancestor, or preventing your parents from meeting—because you wouldn’t exist. Like meeting yourself at a younger age, because you couldn’t exist in two places at once.
Two of the same thing, you see, cannot exist in the same time, Bhegad had said.
I swallowed hard. Why hadn’t I thought of this before? We were bringing Loculi into a time and place where they already existed. Something had to give.
Somehow, our Loculi had made it through the space-time rift. Which meant, by the crazy rules of time travel, Massarym’s Loculi had to vanish.
They weren’t stolen at all. The laws of nature had made them disappear.
From the woods came a fast clopping of hooves. I could hear Aly shrieking. But I didn’t want to take my eyes from Massarym, who was stepping toward me with an angry glare. Once again he was raising his sword.
“Jacko . . .” Marco said from behind me.
“Seize the two other boys,” Massarym grumbled to his guards. “I’ll take care of this one.”
“You can’t kill me!” I blurted out, slowly backing away. “Or wait. Maybe you can. Give me a chance to explain, okay? It’s kind of a long story. . . .”
“Sorry, I listened and I wasn’t convinced,” said Massarym. “Time’s up.”
He lunged toward me, bringing the sword down toward my head.
CHAPTER FIFTY
KARAI AND THE DEATH PART
I JUMPED ASIDE. But I was no Marco. I braced myself for a lost arm or at least a very lopsided haircut.
As I fell to the sopping wet ground, Marco jumped in to defend me. But he didn’t have to. Massarym was frozen, arms in the air and sword still raised high overhead. He was struggling mightily to swing it but his arms were stuck. The umbrella was gone, and a taut rope was wrapped around the tip of the sword, pulling it back. As I crabbed away backward on all fours in the mud, I followed the line of the rope with my eyes. It led to a horseman at the edge of the woods.
“Dude, I had your back,” Marco whispered, staring at the newcomer in awe. “But this other guy had your front.”
; My rescuer shouted something that was completely unintelligible to me. I realized that was because I’d dropped the Loculus of Language. Quickly I scooped it up.
Massarym was grunting, fighting against the pull on his sword. But the rope yanked the weapon out of his hand, and it thudded to the ground.
“Brother, have you lost your senses?” the attacker said, pulling on the rope like he was reeling in a trout.
Cass and Eloise were behind me now, too. “That’s Karai,” Cass said.
“Obvi,” Eloise replied.
“Oh, my heart,” Qalani murmured.
I turned to see Torquin’s body go weak in the knees. She held on to Marco’s shoulder with a thick, stubby hand.
“You have no idea how weird this looks,” Marco whispered.
He, Cass, and Eloise all stood by me now, putting their hands on the Loculus of Language so they could understand.
“Bravo,” Massarym said. “So, you’ve come to save the lives of your little robbers, who hide Loculi in the very monsters I have raised myself.”
Karai came forward on his horse, ignoring his father. “If you strange children be robbers, I commend you. In Massarym, you have found your match in maturity. And in taking the Loculi, you have helped the royal cause.” He turned toward the guards. “Men of the royal court, I command you gather these six orbs.”
The guards looked at Massarym warily. “They do not move for you, Karai,” Massarym said. “Surprise, surprise.”
“Gather the Loculi or you will be held for treason!” Karai commanded.
King Uhla’ar, silent so far, put up a hand. “Hold!” he said. “Speak your piece, young Massarym. Circumstances do not augur well for a kingdom in which brother fights brother.”
“Whoa, is that how he talks in real life?” Marco said.
“Shh!” I warned.
“Father, you know the evil plan of my brother, the prince Karai,” Massarym said. “He seeks to destroy the Loculi created by our mother, Queen Qalani.”
Uhla’ar turned his horse to face Karai. “Still on this quest, are you, my son? Do you not see our island paradise is sinking already?”
“Precisely, Father!” Karai protested. “With all respect, the queen has tampered with the sacred Telion. And only by destroying her creation will the balance be restored—”
“Son, we take your point,” Uhla’ar interrupted him, “but do you not see it is too late? Our land will not survive.”
Both Karai and Massarym began to protest, but Uhla’ar silenced them with a hand. “There is no point now to destroying the Loculi, Karai, other than soothing your mother’s guilt. To this, I must agree with Massarym. We must take these orbs away and preserve them. Someday, when the time is right, we—or our descendants—will collect them elsewhere in the world. With the magic divided into seven components, held safely in the seven Loculi, the Atlantean energy will be unleashed again. In this manner, our way of life will last eternally.”
Karai dismounted and approached Massarym, fixing him with a hard stare. “I do not scorn you for this statement, Father. Massarym has turned you against me. But if the Loculi are taken away, there will be no descendants of Atlantean royalty to lead this fool’s paradise you envision. I have seen to this, by the use of my own science on samples of my own blood. I have unlocked the key to characteristics passed from parent to child and onward. Steal the Loculi, and our descendants will not survive past the age of manhood or womanhood.”
“Karai was the one who planted the death part of G7W?” Cass murmured.
“He is gifted . . .” Qalani said softly. “A greater genius than I.”
Massarym laughed. “You toy with human beings, do you? Perhaps you experimented with that witless, white-bearded fool?” He brandished his sword, gesturing with it toward Qalani.
“Where is your breeding?” Karai snapped. “A prince of Atlantis treats every subject with equal respect. I apologize for my brother, kind sir.”
“Thank you, my son,” Qalani said quietly in Atlantean.
Massarym pointed his sword at Karai. “Such kindness to a half-wit lost in delusions, who dares call you son. Yet you would kill your own descendants!”
“No, you would, my brother,” Karai replied. “For this marker will only become active if you carry out your quest. If the Loculi remain here and are destroyed, in the Heptakiklos where they first drew force, our descendants will be safe for all eternity. The magic they hold will be returned to the land from which they came.”
“The land is doomed, Karai, no matter what we do,” Uhla’ar said.
“Perhaps you are right, Father,” Karai replied. “But the Telion has been disturbed, and the Telion must be appeased. By destroying the Loculi, we will show that we do not presume to control the energy of the earth. We will buy some time at the very least, of this I am certain. If necessary, our subjects will have the chance to escape on galleons to the four winds. They will establish their own wondrous lands, spreading what they have learned here. Like a flock of birds, they will travel close together yet each seeing a clear path ahead.”
“How poetic,” Massarym drawled. “And what if they do not travel together as a flock? How do you suppose they will know each other in these barbaric lands?”
Karai drew his own sword. “By my careful work, the descendants of Uhla’ar and Qalani will always recognize one another. From this generation forward, each of our descendants will exhibit a telltale mark of the Atlantean flock.”
A flying flock. Birds flew in reverse V formations, with the leader in front and the others spread out so they could see. I felt my fingers touching the back of my head. “The lambda . . .” I said.
“That’s what it means?” Cass said. “A flying formation of birds?”
“I thought it stood for lucky,” Eloise said.
Qalani strode forward. She was owning Torquin’s body now, not swaying so much in the hips. “Bravo, Karai,” she said in Atlantean. “By order of the queen, I command my guards to deliver the Loculi to the Heptakiklos at once, where they will be destroyed in accordance to the proper ritual!”
“‘By order of the queen’? From what pitiful land of hideousness are you, man ape?” Massarym said with a sneer.
Qalani’s eyes widened, which was pretty scary in Torquin’s body. She lunged forward and smacked her son’s face. The impact of that meaty hand made Massarym spin around and tumble to the ground.
“Seize him!” Massarym shouted.
“Seize the Loculi!” Karai countered.
The guards raced forward. Qalani whirled, kicking one in the jaw, then the other. As the guards fell to the ground, King Uhla’ar jumped from his horse, brandishing a gold-handled sword exactly like Ischis. He took a swing at Qalani, who jumped aside with all the agility possible in Torquin’s bulk.
Massarym and Karai had drawn their own swords and were facing off in a duel, as the remaining two guards began unhooking our vests.
“Ohhhh, no, Lancelot, you’re not taking mine,” Marco said.
Two guards pointed daggers at his eyes.
“On second thought,” Marco said, “you are.”
“Return the Loculi to the court, men!” King Uhla’ar commanded. As his men held us at the points of their blades, the king mounted his horse and brought it toward us. “I will agree to consider sparing your life on one condition. That you reveal the location of the one Loculus that is still missing.”
“Wait—the Loculus of Strength?” I said.
“You took that one, King Ooh!” Marco said.
Uhla’ar’s face twisted into a barely concealed rage. “They are lucky I do not slaughter them now. Guards, blindfold the visitors and take them to the dungeon.”
With a roar, Qalani ran for the woods. One of the guards threw an ivory-handled dagger, which landed directly in her thigh.
The advantage of having Torquin’s beefy body was that she kept on running until she disappeared into the forest.
We had no such luck.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ON
E
A BONE TO PICK
UNTIL BEING TOSSED into an Atlantean dungeon, I hadn’t realized what an awesome invention deodorant was. The room was about the size of a basketball court with a ten-foot ceiling and an open window letting in the rain. The only two other prisoners in the place were two tiny, shriveled people hidden in corners, but their body odor had the power of a conquering army.
At least we were dry. Sort of.
Aly didn’t seem to notice anything. She was pacing at the dungeon’s gate. She seemed frustrated. “The weird thing is, I was getting through to Uhla’ar,” she muttered. “Back in the woods. I was all tied up with a sack over my head. I figured they were going to kill me. So I pleaded with him. I knew I’d never get through to Massarym, but Uhla’ar’s different.”
“He’s worse, the way I remember,” Marco said.
Aly shook her head. “That was then. He’s been different since we went through the rift. He stops by here and talks to me sometimes. Way more than he needs to. At first he’s always all formal and mean, but then he softens up. Asks questions about history. He wants to know why people act the way they do in the twenty-first century. Also the twentieth and nineteenth and eighteenth, but I can’t help with that. Think about it. I’m the only one who knows what he went through—being a statue all those years stuck in front of sitcoms, being covered with pigeon poop and dog pee.”
“So why did he tie you up and put that sack on you?” I said.
“Massarym did that,” Aly said with the sigh. “That guy—everyone thinks he’s charming and cool, but he’s one big sack of nasty.”
“Well, Ooh La La seemed pretty nasty to me,” Marco said.
Aly threw Marco a smile. “I missed you.”
“I know.” Marco turned away, his face turning red.
“And you . . . you!” Aly threw her arms around Cass until he squirmed away.
I wasn’t jealous. Well, not totally. It was hard to be jealous when you’re surrounded by stink and sweat and the threat of execution. Okay, maybe a little.