The Black Stallion and the Lost City (22 page)

Karst looked perplexed. “Why search? You not gone so long. Maybe two, three hours. You okay?” Karst said, a hint of concern coming into his voice.

Alec looked at his friend, the shock he was feeling surely visible on his face. “Two or three hours?” Alec said. “Are you saying this is still Tuesday?”

“You okay?” Karst repeated. “You hit your head? Yes, Tuesday. Crew on break; we sit tight, still waiting for director. Chopper broke down. He be here tomorrow.” Karst pointed at Alec’s swollen ankle. “You take it easy. We get you to nurse’s station and then you rest.”

Xeena glanced at Alec, and she shook her head slightly, as if signaling him to stop. “Go ahead,” she said. “I’ll stay with the Black.”

Karst unclipped his walkie-talkie from his belt and put in a call to Jeff. The young Australian soon drove
up in his golf cart. “Heard you had a little accident,” Jeff said. “Hop in and I’ll take you to Lana. She can get you fixed up.”

Alec climbed into the golf cart beside Jeff, and they drove to the nurse’s tent.

The nurse washed and bandaged Alec’s ankle, then sent him on his way with a walking cane and a pocket full of extra-strength aspirin. “That’ll do until we can get you back down the mountain tomorrow night,” she said.

Jeff was waiting outside in his golf cart as Alec left the tent. “Where to now, boss?” Jeff said amiably. “Do you want to go back to your room?”

“Think I better check on my horse,” Alec said.

Jeff nodded and eased the golf cart in that direction. “Well, you missed a good card game after lunch,” Jeff said as the cart hummed along. “We are having another one tonight, if you’re up for it.”

Alec glanced at Jeff a moment and then turned away. He still felt dazed by all that had happened, and he knew it probably still showed on his face.

“You feeling all right?” Jeff said. “You look sort of sick.”

“I’m okay,” Alec
said. “It’s just … this has been the strangest day. I don’t think I’ll ever be the same again.”

Jeff laughed. “Oh, you will be all right,” he said. “I didn’t hear how you took your fall. What happened?”

“I’m not sure,” Alec said. There was something in him that wanted very much to confide in another person about what he had seen, if only to try to assemble some kind of sense out of it. Besides that, he didn’t have the energy to think up an alternative alibi.

Alec started talking and Jeff listened easily. They arrived at the tent. Jeff switched off the motor, a half smile on his face, plainly not sure if he was being kidded or not. Even to Alec’s ears, the story he told sounded incredible. Perhaps that was because they were here, safe in the monastery compound surrounded by tents, trucks and their fellow crew, not lost in the wandering woods around Mt. Atnos. Alec recounted what he could, though he intentionally left some parts out, mainly the part about Nicholas’s recovered youth and the horror he had seen at the temple of Diomedes.

They sat there in the cart for many moments until Alec finished his story. Then Jeff asked him straight out, “You wouldn’t be pulling my leg, would you, Alec? Is this some kind of joke?”

Alec shook his head. “I wish it was. The woods here are …”

“What? Magical? Like a magic forest? I don’t know, Alec. This sounds like something right out of
Alice in Wonderland
. Maybe one of the monks slipped some forest mushroom into your eggs this morning. It is a great yarn, though.”

Alec looked at Jeff. What was the use? he thought. Who could believe such a far-fetched tale? And Alec had not one shred of evidence to back up his story. He thanked Jeff for the ride. “No worries, mate,” Jeff said lightly as he glided off in his cart.

Alec stepped into the Black’s tent. Xeena was idly cleaning some tack that didn’t need it, just to keep busy. Alec told her about Jeff’s reaction to the story of what happened on their walk that afternoon. “He thought I was making it all up,” Alec said. “I don’t know what else I expected.”

Xeena shook her head. “I know what my dad would say if I told him.”

Alec nodded. “Hard to believe we’ll both be out of here tomorrow and all this will just be a memory. I just wish I understood.…”

Xeena’s walkie-talkie crackled to life, and Karst’s voice broke in over their conversation. Xeena stood up. “I better go,” she said stoically, the serious kid back on the job.

“Take it easy, girl,” Alec said.

“You too.”

Alec looked in on the Black, then sat on his tack trunk and tried to read a little. He began to feel tired
again, so he set up his stable cot to lie down for a minute and take a quick nap. In minutes he was fast asleep, and he stayed that way for the rest of the afternoon, through dinner and long into the night.

Everyone was up extra early the next morning. Bateman had choppered in at first light, and shooting was supposed to be completed by noon, at least according to the schedule Alec had seen. He, the Black and most of the crew would be leaving the monastery shortly thereafter.

Alec’s head hurt a little for some reason, but at least his ankle wasn’t bothering him too much. He fed and watered the Black, then led him outside so he could stretch his legs.

Jeff caught up to Alec as they circled the animal tents. “Feeling better this morning?” he asked. “How’s the head?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. Thanks. But don’t we have to rehearse or something for the scene we’re supposed to do? I’m still not sure.…”

Jeff smiled. “No worries, mate,” he said. “Your scene should be a snap. We’ll block it out when we get to the location. For now, just go get into costume. We’ll be ready for you when you’re ready.”

An hour later, Alec and the Black were suited up in their Alexander and Bucephalus outfits and waiting
with Karst and the rest of the crew on the set. It was the same location they had used before, the place with the spectacular mountain backdrop only a few minutes from the compound.

The place looked like a construction site. Black cables snaked across the ground between humming generators and the sound and lighting equipment. The crew called back and forth, adjusting camera tripods and positioning stands of lights. Two separate camera teams had taken up vantage points along the route. Bateman shuttled back and forth between cameras in his golf cart, crouching down and peering through the lenses, backing up and moving from side to side, checking every possible angle.

Jeff waved to Alec and jogged over. “We are about ready,” he said. “This is the layout. Do you see Xeena over there?” He pointed to a spot a couple hundred yards away where Xeena and Cleo were positioned up the hill. “Think of her as a marker. Stiv wants you to lope along straight toward her. The first camera team will track you from the start. When you pass the second team, you should turn to them and point as if you have just noticed some riders in the distance. Got it?”

“Sounds simple enough.”

“Places, everyone,” called the assistant director over a bullhorn. “Quiet on the set.”

Another assistant stepped in front of the camera
holding a black slate clapboard. “
Young Alexander,
scene twenty-one, take one.”

“Action!”

Alec urged the Black ahead, and they loped toward Xeena and Cleo, turning and pointing as they passed the second camera team.

“Cut, cut, cut,” Bateman called over from a bullhorn behind him. “Back it up. Do it again.”

Alec turned the Black around, and they returned to the start marker where Karst was waiting for them.

“Okay,” Bateman called out after a moment. “Let’s take it from the top. A little faster this time.” The assistant with the clapboard stepped in front of the camera again. “
Young Alexander,
scene twenty-one, take two.”

“Action!”
Alec and the Black took off again, Alec pushing the stallion into a slow gallop. “Cut! Do it again,” came the orders over the bullhorn.

Alec thought he and the Black were doing everything that was asked of them, but Bateman wanted more footage, so they kept retaking the scene. Every few takes, the camera crews tried a new shooting angle. As much time was spent adjusting cameras and lights between takes as the actual filming. Finally, after fifteen takes, the director seemed satisfied. “That’s a keeper, people,” Bateman said. “Set up for the next shot.”

Alec and the Black started back to the wardrobe tent to get out of their costumes. They were through for the day, and now all they had to do was get packed up and ready for the trip down the mountain. It felt good to be busy and working, Alec thought, good to not think too much about what he had seen, or thought he’d seen, in the Acracian woods yesterday.

All at once, he heard someone calling his name from behind. It was none other than the director, Stiv Bateman. Alec pulled the Black to a stop and swung down from the saddle.

Bateman glanced at the Black and then turned to Alec. “Can I walk with you a minute?”

“Sure,” Alec said. “It’d be a pleasure.”

“I wanted to thank you for your help on the shoot,” Bateman said. “The footage looks great, and I think the Black has a future in pictures if he wants it. But there is something else I’d like to talk to you about. Jeff told me an interesting story this morning, a story he says you told him yesterday, something about a lost city in the forest. Were they ruins?”

Me and my big mouth, Alec thought. But the cat was already out of the bag, and there was no sense in being coy about it now. He spoke up and tried to be as honest as he could. “They weren’t ruins,” Alec said. “It was a city, like an ancient Greek city, a place unlike anything I’ve ever seen.”

“Tell me about it,” Bateman said. His expression was intent, his eyes focused. Alec repeated the version of the story he had told Jeff. Bateman walked beside him and listened quietly all the way back to the Black’s tent.

“I don’t expect you to believe me,” Alec said at last, “but since you asked …”

“Believe you? Who says I don’t believe you?”

The director’s reaction was not at all what Alec had expected. He was actually taking Alec seriously. “I just figured …”

Bateman laughed jovially. “Why not? Life is still a mystery to me. And you don’t look like the sort of guy who would make up a yarn like that just for fun. I think I’d like to see this lost, time-wandering city of yours for myself.”

“Seriously?”

“Sure. It sounds fascinating. Don’t know how I’d get in there, though. It was hard enough getting permission to film here at the monastery. I might try it guerilla-style, like we used to do back in film school. Go in light, take some money for bribes. It just might work.” Bateman looked at his watch. “Gotta go, kid,” he said. “And thanks for sharing. If I go, I’ll let you know how it turns out.”

Alec led the Black to the tent entrance and then turned and watched the director hustling off back to
the set, already barking orders into his walkie-talkie. He wondered if Bateman was really serious about what he had said. Bateman did have a reputation for shooting in the most out-of-the-way places imaginable, in deep jungle and at the bottom of the sea, so it made sense that he might be tempted to do what he said he wanted to do.

For the next hour or two, Alec busied himself packing and getting the Black ready for the van ride down the mountain. Xeena gave him a hand stowing his gear in the van, and he told her about his talk with Bateman.

“I guess some people are like that,” she said. “I wouldn’t go back into those woods for a million dollars. But to tell you the truth, right now I am starting to think it might have been just some incredible dream after all.”

“If it was a dream,” Alec said, “we were in it together.”

Xeena nodded. “That makes me feel better for some reason. Let’s leave it at that.”

“Fine with me,” he said. Alec stepped over to the tack trunk. “Can you give me a hand with this? My ankle still hurts a little.”

Xeena smiled. “Sure,” she said, taking up the other end of the trunk.

“Thanks,” Alec said. “At least I know I didn’t imagine this twisted ankle of mine.”

An hour later, the Black was safely loaded up and Alec was sitting in the van’s passenger seat as Karst eased the van out the driveway and through the monastery gate. Xeena was riding with Cleo and some of the other horses in Thomas’s van, so it was just the two of them. Karst waved to the monks standing watch, but the sullen-eyed men took no notice of him. He shook his head and laughed. “Friendly guys.”

Alec leaned forward in his seat and turned to look out his window to the peaks of Mt. Atnos, now shrouded in thick clouds. He wondered again about Celera and the white mares. Were they still there, grazing on the lush grass in their sacred pastures? He thought about Cyrene and the temple of Diomedes and wondered if the citizens of Acracia were rebuilding their city walls. Or had chaos fallen upon the realm, as Nicholas had foretold? A gentle wind drifted through the open window, and Alec heard the sounds of singing birds. For an instant, he thought he could hear the faint, faraway strains of a handheld harp playing a melody from another time. Taking a deep breath, he leaned back in his seat and turned his mind to the road ahead.

One cloudy afternoon, several months later, Alec was sitting at his desk in the office of the stallion barn at Hopeful Farm finishing up paying feed bills. It had been some time since he’d even thought about the
Young Alexander
shoot and all that had happened to him and the Black when they were there. With all of his scenes completed, Alec had ended up spending only a few more days in Thrace. The trip home had been painless, first-class all the way, and Alec had quickly settled back into life at Hopeful Farm.