Time Hunters and the Spear of Fate, The (10 page)

Becky didn’t know what to do. What
did ‘Umgala’ mean? Were the transvocalisors malfunctioning? Her eyes found
Gimbledok. She could tell from his surprised expression Orff was offering his
most treasured possession. Gimbledok glanced at Mirala and they swapped proud
looks.

‘Take the knife, Becky,’ Uncle Percy
urged. ‘This is a very significant moment in a young Yeti’s development.
‘Umgala’ is an ancient Yeti tradition, one that signifies the transformation
from childhood into adolescence. Orff recognises he is growing up and that he
is old enough to take on certain responsibilities.’

Becky was confused. ‘I don’t
understand.’

‘To the Yeti, friendship is the most
important responsibility of all,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘Orff wishes to become
your friend throughout life and beyond. He is offering you his everlasting
loyalty. It’s the greatest gift a Yeti can bestow upon another. You should be
very proud he’s picked you…’

Becky didn’t know what to say.
Gently, she reached out and took the knife.

Orff’s face ignited. ‘Umgala … Umgala…’

Curling the blade in her fingers,
Becky felt a twinge of guilt. She had nothing to give in return, nothing that
could vaguely compare with the gift she’d been given. But then it struck her.
There was something … something that meant as much to her as the knife clearly
had meant to him. Without even a hint of hesitation, her fingers reached up to
her neck. Slowly, she looped her lucky pendant over her head and passed it
over.

Orff’s beaming face was cloaked in
an emerald hue.

Becky had given him the Suman Stone.

Chapter 13

The Abominable Dead

Becky watched Orff drape the Suman
Stone around his neck, his lip quivering like a leaf in a stiff breeze. She
didn’t know how to feel. On one hand, she was filled with a deep loss, as if
surrendering a vital part of her soul; on the other, she felt lighter,
liberated, ready to let go of her past and move forward into an uncharted
future.

Uncle Percy looked at her with
intense pride. He knew precisely what it meant to her. ‘Good for you, Becky,’
he said softly.

Joe, on the other hand, looked at
her as if her nose had fallen off.

For the next hour, they listened to
Gimbledok recite stories about his ancestors and the Yeti community at large.
Although the translation left a lot to be desired, Becky got the impression
that Yeti history was much more interesting than she would’ve ever imagined,
even involving a period when they lived and worked alongside humans
constructing something called the Great White Pyramid at Xian.

As Gimbledok spoke, Mirala served
them all a steaming broth-type drink she called
Proakima
, which, despite
its muddy dark brown colour, had a warming and refreshing taste of apricots and
strawberries.

The conversation lasted just over an
hour, during which a constant stream of Yetis, both young and old, visited them
to pay their respects to Uncle Percy who, much to his embarrassment, they
treated like a travelling doctor, inviting him to look at every conceivable
ailment from a swollen ankle the size of a melon, to a nose wart in the shape
of a lobster.

It was late-morning when Uncle Percy
looked at Gimbledok and said, ‘I think it’s time we should be going.’ His gaze
unconsciously drifted over to Werner Von Hammelburg’s cap, before flicking over
to Becky and Joe. ‘I’ll be back shortly, but–’

Becky rolled her eyes. ‘Whatever,’
she interrupted. ‘We’re coming.’

Uncle Percy exhaled heavily. ‘I
really don’t think you need to see a ten-year old corpse, do you?’

Joe looked affronted. ‘A couple of
months ago we were fighting pirate corpses by the shed-load. At least this one
won’t try and eat our brains.’

Uncle Percy gave a defeated sigh.
‘Let’s hope not...’ He watched Gimbledok pick up an unlit wooden torch. ‘That
won’t be necessary, my friend.’

‘Need fyrre,’ Gimbledok grunted
back. ‘Sold’eer deep in mowntin!’

‘We have plenty of light, trust me,’
Uncle Percy said, slipping his hand into his coat pocket and pulling out a
crumpled brown paper bag.’

‘You’ve brought sweeties?’ Joe
asked, puzzled.

‘I’ve brought
illumino-beads
,’
Uncle Percy replied, opening the bag to reveal a dozen tiny translucent balls.

‘What are they?’ Becky asked.

‘Just a little invention of mine. As
we seem to spend half our life in rather murky tunnels, I thought it might be
useful for us to have a portable light source. Actually, it’s quite a
straightforward device, really: an uthurnium shell encasing a single
lumo-phoric cell. Observe …’ He plucked an illumino bead from the bag and
rolled it between his forefinger and thumb. Then he threw it into the far cave.
The bead shattered on the ground, filling the cave with blinding light.

Orff gave an ecstatic squeal and
slammed his feet on the ground repeatedly in a booming gesture of approval.
Gimbledok and Mirala looked fleetingly shaken until they began to relax as the
light dulled to a softer hue.

‘That single bead will generate
light for up to one hour,’ Uncle Percy said.

‘That’s wicked,’ Joe said.

‘Pretty elementary stuff, really,’
Uncle Percy said matter-of-factly.

A short while later, Becky was
following Gimbledok, Uncle Percy and Joe (despite Orff’s repeated pleas,
Gimbledok wouldn’t allow him to come) down an adjoining tunnel and away from
the Yeti village. With a succession of illumino-beads lighting the path ahead,
Becky could see the tunnel was at least two hundred metres long with dozens of
vacant caves on either side. It was then she felt Joe’s hand tug at her sleeve
pulling her out of earshot.

‘So how come you gave Orff the Suman
Stone?’ Joe asked quietly. ‘I mean, you won’t even let me touch it, but you go
and give it to the first baby Gruffalo that gives you a flick knife.’

‘It just felt like the right thing
to do.’

Joe wasn’t nearly satisfied with the
answer. ‘But dad gave it to you!’

‘And it meant everything when I
thought he was dead,’ Becky replied simply. ‘Now I know he’s alive … I dunno -
I just don’t feel I need it anymore.’ She paused. ‘I don’t expect a thickhead
like you to understand.’

A mischievous glint formed in Joe’s
eyes. ‘You do know you’ve probably promised to marry Orff now, don’t you?’

Becky scowled at him. ‘What’re you
talking about?’

‘You swapping gifts. It’s probably
some ancient Yeti tradition that means you’re engaged or summat.’ He snorted.
‘Best start shopping for a dress.’

Becky shot him a contemptuous look.
‘Joe, you’re such a tool!’ she said flatly.

Joe ignored the insult. ‘Seriously,
you’ll have to let me know what you want me to get you for a wedding pressie?
How about a womble suit?’

Becky was about to thump him when
another tunnel came into view, its entrance adorned with hundreds of fresh
flowers in a glittering display of colour. She knew at once they were entering
the funerary caves. Forgetting Joe’s insolence, she felt a wave of unease. This
was where the Yeti community laid their dead to rest. A mausoleum. She watched
Gimbledok enter, followed by Uncle Percy, who threw down another bead which
shattered, immediately brightening the way ahead.

Head bowed, Becky followed silently
as they passed a series of caves. Unable to stop herself, she peered into one.
Like Gimbledok’s cave, the floor was covered with objects, all of which were
facing a central altar like spectators at a football match; set upon the altar
was a Yeti, its giant body wrapped in a woollen burial shroud. The altar
appeared to be carved in intricate, swirling patterns from a single gigantic
piece of wood and was decorated with garlands of purple and red flowers. Before
she knew it, she found herself standing there stock-still, humbled by the
immense care spent in making the cave look so beautiful.

Uncle Percy noticed and moved to her
side. ‘It’s really quite touching, isn’t it?’

Becky nodded. ‘Where do they get all
the flowers?’

‘Every other day the Yetis leave
their village to forage for them, travelling many miles sometimes, just to
ensure these caves are always as bright and colourful and vibrant as you see
today. They take death, and the commemoration of their ancestors, very
seriously. In my opinion, mankind could learn a lot from them.’

‘I agree,’ Becky said quietly.

The group continued their trek deep
into the mountain, passing cave after cave, each of which was as well
maintained as the next, until Gimbledok shuffled to a halt and inclined his
head towards a cave opening.

‘The sowldier … he sleep ‘ere.’

‘Thank you, Gimbledok,’ Uncle Percy
said simply. His face grew solemn as he threw an illumino bead into the
opening. With a flash, the cave ignited. He waited for the initial flare to
subside and then turned to Becky and Joe.

‘Are you sure you’re ready to see this?’
Uncle Percy asked.

Becky and Joe nodded, although
neither looked completely happy about it.

Accepting their decision, Uncle
Percy stooped down and disappeared inside.  

Determined not to let Joe see how
anxious she really felt, Becky followed Uncle Percy into the cave, Joe trailing
close behind. She was surprised at the sight that greeted her.  As this
cave contained a human (and one who had been here for over a decade) she’d
expected it to be empty, neglected even, with Von Hammelburg’s skeleton,
hideous and creepy, lying there in all of its gruesome glory, but she was
wrong. It was as well cared for as the other funerary caves. Bursting with
flowers, there was no wooden altar, no possessions that reflected the dead
man’s life, but Von Hammelburg’s body lay serenely on the floor, its features
concealed by a burial shroud.

Before Becky had time to ponder the
strangeness of the situation, however, her gaze locked on the object at
Hammelburg’s feet: a rucksack. Excitement rushed through her.

Uncle Percy exhaled deeply. ‘Here
goes nothing...’ He leant down and picked up the rucksack. Unclipping the
fastener, he opened it and thrust his hand inside.

Becky watched nervously as Uncle
Percy pulled something into the light. It was a rectangular piece of orange
metal about a foot long; dozens of strange symbols were etched onto its
surface. She heard Joe gasp loudly behind her.

‘Well, well,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘It
appears that the Gadeirus Tablet does exist.’

‘What do the markings mean?’ Joe
panted.

‘I can only assume it’s written in
the Atlantean language, Joe,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘I can get Barbie to check
them against her databases, but it’s doubtful even she will have any record of
such a thing.’

‘But it certainly isn’t made from
silver marble, is it?’ Becky said. ‘Not like it said it would be in the Sonchis
Scroll.’

‘No. It certainly isn’t,’ Uncle
Percy said. ‘But I do think we’ve seen this metal before? Twice before, as a
matter of fact…’

Becky looked confused. ‘When?’

‘Are you sure you don’t recognise
it?’ Uncle Percy said searchingly. ‘Look again.’

Becky’s eyes fell on the Gadeirus
Tablet once more. It was then a spark of recognition struck her. Uncle Percy
was right; she had seen the metal before. ‘It’s made from the same metal
Edgar’s grandfather used to make the Theseus Disc, isn’t it?’

‘And Edgar’s dagger,’ Joe added
quickly.

‘That’s right,’ Uncle Percy said.

Becky swallowed hard. ‘But what does
that mean?’

It was Uncle Percy’s turn to look
confused. ‘I have absolutely no idea…’

Chapter 14

Orichalcum

A heavy silence descended upon them.

Becky was struggling to find any
words that would make sense of it all. They had obtained what they had come
for: The Gadeirus Tablet; but what on earth were they going to do with it? If
the message, as the Sonchis Scroll suggested, did lead the way to the Spear of
Fate, how could they possibly decipher something written in an obsolete
language? ‘But if we can’t translate the language how will we understand what
it says?’

Uncle Percy exhaled. ‘That is indeed
the dilemma.’

Becky’s eyes met his. A few nervous
moments passed before she asked her next question. ‘May I … may I hold it?’

Uncle Percy smiled kindly. ‘Of course.’

Hands shaking, Becky took it and
allowed her fingers to glide over the markings. She couldn’t believe it. She
was holding a genuine Atlantean relic. It felt so light to her touch and yet
somehow as hard as a diamonds.  ‘So what do we do with it now?’ she asked
quietly.

Uncle Percy shook his head. ‘We
buckle down and hit the books, Becky, do some research, and hope something of
worth reveals itself. The fact is there are just so many unanswered questions,
and ones we may never know the answers too. I suggest we return to Bowen Hall
and take stock of our situation.’

‘But what about Drake?’ Joe said
urgently. ‘He won’t be taking stock of anything. He’ll be out there, recruiting
historical nut jobs and searching for the Spear of Fate.’

‘Then let’s pray he can’t find it
without the tablet.’ Uncle Percy replied solemnly.

A few minutes later, they were
making their way back to Gimbledok’s cave. After an emotional farewell, during
which a tearful Orff refused to let go of Becky’s hand, they exited the cave to
see the rest of the Yetis had lined the passageway that led outside. Smiling
from crooked mouths, the Yetis pounded their feet against the ground in a
gesture of respect, as a visibly moved Uncle Percy, Joe and Becky passed by.
 

Emerging from the mountainside,
Becky was surprised to see the weather had turned dramatically. Fat,
pewter-black clouds had amassed overhead, blocking the sun, and flecks of snow
the size of cricket balls pounded their faces as they trudged towards the time
machine, which rocked in the furious wind.

Thankful for the car’s warmth, Becky
settled on to the back seat and took a prolonged look at the Gadeirus Tablet.
What secrets did it hold? How on earth would they unravel them? And as the car
filled with light, she couldn’t help but ponder another question: if the tablet
was indeed forged from the same metal as the Theseus Disc, then how was it
connected to the Minotaurs?

*

Seconds later, they were back in the
Time Room. The temperature rose rapidly, causing Becky to feel like she’d just
been pulled from an icebox and flung into an oven. She threw off her coat and
followed Joe out of the Cadillac.

‘Right,’ Joe said eagerly to Uncle
Percy, who had placed the Gadeirus Tablet beside a computer and was busy typing
something onto its keyboard. ‘Why don’t you call Barbie, and we can get
crackin’ with this research.’

‘First things first, Joe … there’s
no immediate rush. We have the Gadeirus Tablet, and unless I’m very much
mistaken that means we’re well ahead of Emerson Drake. Now, so I don’t forget,
can I have your transvocalisors, please?’

Becky and Joe took them off and gave
them to Uncle Percy.

‘Thank you,’ Uncle Percy said.

Joe approached the Gadeirus Tablet.
‘So what’s going on with this weird metal then? It’s a bit freaky that Edgar’s
gramps used the same material to make stuff, don’t you reckon?’

Uncle Percy nodded his agreement.
‘It is, as you rightly say somewhat ‘freaky’, but I do have a theory as to why
that might be the case.’

Becky felt certain she knew what it
was. ‘You think Edgar’s from Atlantis, don’t you? I don’t mean literally, but
you think his ancestors came from there.’

Joe looked taken aback.

Uncle Percy hesitated for a moment
before speaking. ‘That’s precisely what I think, Becky.’

‘What makes you think that?’ Joe
asked eagerly.

Uncle Percy’s fingers drummed at his
chin. ‘Although I didn’t see any significance at the time, do you remember when
Edgar first told us about the Theseus Disc, how he claimed it was made from the
‘metal of his
motherland
?’ Well, it just so happens that the
first recorded reference to Atlantis was in Plato's dialogues, Timaeus and
Critias.’

‘Plato’s dialogues?’ Becky asked.
‘What’s that?’

‘Plato was one of the greatest
philosophers of Ancient Greece. His areas of expertise included art,
mathematics, science, politics and even poetry. Anyway, he assembled his
thoughts in a series of ‘dialogues’ he hoped would instigate discussion for the
good of mankind. Within the ‘Critias’ dialogue he wrote that a number of
Atlantean buildings, most notably Poseidon’s Temple, were at least part crafted
from Orichalcum, the distinctive orange metal of Atlantis. If Edgar were indeed
of Atlantean origin, then Orichalcum would certainly be the ‘metal of his
motherland.’

Joe was bursting with excitement
now. ‘This is so cool.’

Uncle Percy was about to continue
when three piercing beeps ripped the air. His expression altered from one of
boyish excitement to one of deep surprise.

Becky noticed. ‘What is it, Uncle
Percy?’

‘Erm, it appears we have visitors …’

At the same instant, a terminal on
the far wall switched itself on, lines of numerical data flooding the screen
white. The temperature tumbled quickly as a stiff, chilling breeze swept the
room. Becky’s eyes fell on a shimmering orb that had materialized on Betty’s
right. Knowing full well what was to come, she shielded her eyes with the crook
of her palm.

Ballooning in size, the light
crackled in mid-air like a Catherine wheel, before  -
BOOM
– it
shot all around, penetrating, licking every surface, before disappearing,
pitching the room into dimness once more.

Lowering her hand, Becky saw a
solitary male figure; crouched down, the man’s hand was wrapped firmly around
the branch of what appeared at first glance to be a huge tree laid flat on the
floor.

Her heart soared with joy.

Will Shakelock was staring up at
her, his face bruised, sweaty, stained black with dirt and blood. But he was
alive. That was all that mattered. In that instant, she felt overwhelmed with
joy. That was until she looked into his eyes, and any feeling of happiness
abandoned her, replaced quickly by a wave of panic.

For the first time since she had met
him, Will looked helpless, defeated, lost, a broken man. And as her gaze
drifted downwards, she could see why. He wasn’t holding a branch, at all. He
was holding an arm - a huge, muscular arm. She felt an ache swell inside.

Edgar, the Minotaur, was lying
there, immobile, his body as pale as concrete, his saucer-sized nostrils barely
clawing the slightest of breaths.

Will looked desperately to a
dumbstruck Uncle Percy. ‘I fear he’s dying…’