The Legend of the Rift (15 page)

M
ARCO'S SCREAM DEFINITELY
did not sound Eloise-like.

With the blunt tip of the lance against his chest, Marco grabbed the shaft with both hands and yanked his arms upward. Still holding tight to the lance's hilt, Maximo went flying into the air.

Her horse charged by at full speed, riderless.

With a loud grunt, Marco swung the lance over his shoulder—with Maximo still on it. The lance snapped in two, and the Zon leader somersaulted head over foot, landing in the dirt with a loud thud.

The place went dead silent. Most of the Amazons were slack-jawed with disbelief.

“Such action! Such courage! Hoooo-hoo!” Herostratus shouted. “This sort of thing has never been seen before in our stadium! Is Maximo dead, ladies and ladies? Ha! Of course not! Amazons are immortal . . .
OR ARE THEY
? Now the question is . . . for the lives of all the Amazons . . . will Eloise get the grand prize?”

Marco spurred Chinggis toward the Loculus. Cynthia sat up in her throne, watching stonily. At the other end of the stadium, Maximo was struggling to her feet.

Swooping down with his hands, Marco snatched up the Loculus and held it high over his head.

“Yyyyes!” Eloise screamed, jumping onto Cass and nearly knocking him over.

I breathed a sigh of relief. I knew the Loculus had to have the power of teleportation or time travel, and either one would get him out of there, so I called out, “Use it, Mar—er, Eloise! Use it!”

But he was on the other side, making Chinggis promenade before the Amazons. He held the Loculus under his arm like a football and shouted while pumping his fist, “We got it. We got it. We—we—we got it!”

“What the heck is he doing?” Cass said.

“WATCH OUT, MARCO!” I yelled.

Across the stadium grass, Maximo was racing on her own two feet toward Marco. Her stride was huge, her calves as muscular as an Olympic runner's. With a scream,
she jettisoned herself into the air, diving toward Marco.

Her hands closed around the Loculus and she snatched it away, knocking Marco clear off the horse. He tumbled to the ground and rolled, his helmet flying off and bouncing away on the grass.

Now Marco's face was visible to the crowd. Seeing who he really was, they began screaming angrily, storming the field. Cynthia rose to her feet, her jaw hanging open.

Marco scrambled to put the helmet back on, but it was too late.

“Forfeit!” Herostratus cried out. “The mortals are disqualified!”

Cass, Eloise, Torquin, Brother Dimitrios, and I all ran out onto the field.
“Grab the Loculus, Marco!”
I shouted.

Marco dove toward Maximo, but she jumped away, holding tight to the Loculus. From his left and right, Amazons ran from the sidelines into the fray. Out of nowhere, a half-eaten roasted vromaski's head flew through the air and landed on Chinggis with a dull splat.

The horse ran toward Marco, kicking at the attacking Amazons ferociously from both sides. I had to watch where I was running, because nine-foot women made deadly projectiles.

One of them landed next to me with a loud “oof.” As she sat up, dazed, Eloise leaped over her. She snatched up the broken half of Maximo's lance and began swinging it wildly.

She clipped two of the Amazons at the ankle and tore through another's weapon belt, which fell to the ground. Then, weaving under the legs of the fighting nine-foot warriors, she began yanking on their sandal straps, untying them.

I scooped up the fallen weapon belt and ran to the sidelines. There, out of the chaos, I was able to take out a blowpipe and stuff a leather pouch full of darts into my pocket.

In the middle of the stadium's confusion, I saw the Loculus roll toward Brother Dimitrios. He picked it up, his face full of disbelief. “By the gods, I've got it.
I've got it!
”

Hearing this, one of the Amazons whirled away from the melee and ran toward him, brandishing a club.

I thought I heard Dimitrios muttering, “Oh dear.”

“Toss it over here!” Torquin shouted.

Over the moving scrum of bodies, all I saw now was the Loculus flying high over the crowd, into Torquin's arms. I tried to see what happened to Brother Dimitrios, but the crowd was parting now to let someone through.

I froze.

Out of the madness, Cynthia was float-walking toward me, brandishing a bow. Before I could do a thing, she was on her knees and aiming an arrow at my head. “You do not cheat Cynthia,” she said.

“No-o-o-o!” Torquin's voice boomed.

I heard the twang as the arrow left the bow. I saw the
point heading for my eye. I knew I had no time to duck.

The line drive blur from my left was a total shock. It connected with the arrow in midair, creating an explosion that knocked it off course. I dropped to my knees, as Cynthia let out a cry of anger in Greek.

To my left, Torquin was staring slack-jawed, the Loculus no longer in his hand. To my right, Cynthia's arrow lay on the ground.

All around it was a pile of shattered Loculus, being stepped on and kicked around by Chinggis.

T
HE SCREAM BEGAN
as a tiny wail and grew to be the loudest siren I had ever heard. It caromed off the round dome, magnifying and echoing against itself so that it sounded like a chorus of the dying.

Cynthia was on her knees, looking at the broken Loculus in horror.

I ran up beside her and fell to the dirt, sweeping up the pieces of the Loculus in my hands. “Marco, Cass!”

They dropped to my side and tried to help. We all had to be careful to avoid Chinggis, who was still in a frenzy from all the commotion. The shards were sticking into my palms, drawing pricks of blood. “It . . . looks like glass,” I said. “Whoever heard of a Loculus made of glass?”

“Back!” Torquin ordered, pulling me by the shoulder
just in time to avoid Chinggis's flying hoof.

This Loculus was way more fragile than the one I'd thrown under the train in New York City. Instead of a few dozen thick, jagged pieces, there were millions. And whatever we could have collected was being kicked away and ground in the dirt by a wildly confused Chinggis. “What are we going to do now?” Cass asked.

I shook my head, speechless.

Now the Zons were gathering around their leader, falling to their knees, bowing their heads. Some were wailing in sympathy. No one had time for us anymore.

“Come,” Torquin said. “Let's go.”

“But—” I protested.

“Must get out of here,” he said. “Now.”

I stood, backing away. The whole thing was hopeless. Torquin was leading us through the jungle of Zons. They were trying to gather up the shards, rushing to comfort Cynthia, picking odd fights with one another for no particular reason. It was utter chaos. I knew Torquin was right. We had to leave now while we had the opportunity.

But as I turned to go, I caught a glimpse of Brother Dimitrios lying on the grass. Eloise was leaning over him, and she looked up in shock as we ran to her. “What happened?” Cass asked.

“He threw Loculus to me,” Torquin said. “And Zons hit him.”

Blood was pooling under Dimitrios's head. His face was losing color, and as he turned to me, I could see a gash down the side of his face. “J—J—”

“We have to get him some help!” I shouted.

“No!” Dimitrios said with a grimace. “Too late. You must . . . continue . . .”

“Come on, Jack, let's lift him,” Marco said.

“No . . . ! No!” Dimitrios said. His eyes fluttered and his words were halting. “J-Jack. I did . . . I was . . . wrong . . .”

“What are you talking about?” I said. “You threw the Loculus to Torquin. That saved my life!”

He made a coughing sound, and blood spurted from his mouth. When he looked at me again, tears sprang from his eyes. “Jack . . . Hero . . .”

“
You're
the hero,” I said.

“. . . stratus . . .”

Dimitrios's eyes fluttered again, and then shut.

“Dimitrios—wake up!” Cass said, slapping his cheek. “What did you mean by— Jack, why did he say that?”

“I don't know,” I said. “Brother Dimitrios, what about Herostratus?”

The old monk's lips quivered as if he wanted to speak, but instead his head rolled to one side. And his body went limp.

Torquin pressed his fingers to the side of Dimitrios's neck, feeling for a pulse. “Dead,” he said.

Eloise began to cry softly. “No. Just no,” she said between sniffles. “Dimitrios was kind of creepy, but he didn't deserve this. . . .”

Cass put his arm around her silently.

I sat back, numb. I knew we had to go. I knew that every second we spent here was one second closer to being captured by the Zons. But I couldn't move. I felt nothing.

Professor Bhegad . . . Daria of Babylon . . . and now Dimitrios. All of them gone in the quest for the Loculi. A quest that was now hopeless. “This was my fault . . .” I muttered. “It was my idea for Marco to impersonate Eloise. And because of that, Dimitrios is dead and the Loculus is destroyed.”

“Brother Jack, did you see that bronco?” Marco said. “No offense, but Eloise wasn't ready for that.”

“My fault,” Torquin mumbled. “For throwing Loculus.”

Now, over by Cynthia, one of the Zons was pointing toward us, shouting to the others.

“Uh-oh,” Torquin said. “Have to go.”

“We can't just leave him here!” Eloise said.

“Go—now!”
Torquin bellowed, lifting Eloise off the ground with one hand and Cass with the other.

Marco had to pull me up by my shirt. “Dude, don't lose it. You don't want to end up like him.”

I got up and ran. Together we headed back toward the entry archway. A spear whistled over my head. It barely
missed Torquin but cut a straight row through the top of his hair. Arrows began raining on either side of us. “Yeeeow!” Marco yelled.

“Are you okay?” I shouted.

“Only . . . a flesh wound . . .” he said through gritted teeth. Turning in midstride, he scooped up the fallen arrow with his noninjured hand and hurled it back. “Bull's-eye!” he shouted.

“Hurry!” I called out.

We headed for the tunnel where Herostratus had emerged. As we plunged in, I could hear another spear clank against the rock wall, just above the opening. “Does anyone have a torch?” Marco called out.

“Oh, sure, Marco, I always keep a torch in my pocket,” Eloise shouted.

“Ow!” Torquin grunted. “Hit wall. Go left.”

We were running blindly now. From behind us came the thumping of size-gazillion feet. I could see the dull glow of light against the walls—
they
had torches! At least I could see walls, ceilings, and shadows now. We ran straight, past two side tunnels. But just ahead, Torquin was coming to a stop. He'd reached a fork and was sniffing left and right. “Smell air. One of these leads outside.”

An arrow skittered under my legs, sliding on the floor and into the tunnel on the right. “They're close!” Eloise said.

That was when I saw a shadow moving in the right-hand tunnel, near the floor. Two eyes stared up at me in the darkness.

They were bright orange.

“G
O RIGHT!”
I said.

“Why?” Cass asked.

“That cat—it's Herostratus!” I replied.

Following Herostratus might have been the dumbest decision I could make, but I had to go with my gut. His name was the last thing Dimitrios had said.

We ran right, following the shadow of the cat into the tunnel.

I was expecting a hail of arrows or a flying lance. But I didn't expect the loud scraping noise behind us. It made me jump in midstride and turn around, as a wall of solid rock closed across the tunnel, sealing it off to us at the fork.

“What the—?” I muttered.

Marco had seen it, too. “It's a trap, Brother Jack. They're locking us in.”

I whirled around. “Not much we can do. Come on!”

Torquin had waited for us at the next fork. He signaled us to go left.

Our path was uphill and I was sensing a change in the air. We were nearing some sort of exit. But as we bolted around a curve, Torquin came to a quick halt. “Whoa, apply air brakes!” Marco yelled.

We pulled up behind them. I peeked over Eloise's shoulder to see Herostratus standing in our way, trembling. He was reaching into his pants pocket, fumbling with a set of keys.

“You betray, you pay!” Torquin said, balling his fists.

Herostratus shook his head. “Not me, babies,” he said. “I'm not the one who betrayed you.”

His hands shaking, he inserted the key into a door in the wall. It took him a few tries, but he finally pushed it open and stepped inside. “Please,” he said. “Hurry.”

I heard a scrape and saw a spark. A torch came to life, and we could see Herostratus using it to light three sconces. They sent flames shooting up into a long, narrow shaft.

We crowded into a room that was a perfect cylinder, almost too small to fit us. Aside from the sconces, the only other feature I could make out was a huge wooden crank at about waist level. “Please, step back from the center,”
Herostratus said. “You'll just have to squeeze.”

As we spread out, he began turning the crank. It squeaked loudly, echoing upward. Now I could hear frantic chittering above us as the shaft filled with the shadows of bats. “Ignore them,” Herostratus said. “They're friendly. Except Fuzzy. He bites.”

“I hate bats!” Eloise shrieked. “Which one is Fuz—”

A black streak darted downward. We all ducked, screaming. But with a quick flick of his arm, Herostratus swatted it against the wall, inches from Torquin's head. “That one.”

“Yum,” Torquin said. “May I take—?”

“No!” we all shouted at once.

Ignoring us all, Herostratus cranked and cranked. The floor began to shake, releasing a cloud of dust—and a perfect circular section of the floor popped out and began to rise.

A cylinder made of polished amber-colored marble thrust upward, inches from Torquin's belly. It moved painfully slowly and with an ear-splitting groan, as the marble rubbed against the stone opening. I had to close my eyes to the dust cloud, and everyone was coughing.

But through all that noise, I was feeling a sensation in my brain that was a lot like the Song of the Heptakiklos.

When the noise stopped, I squinted through the settling dust. Near the top of the shaft, I could make out a
section of the shaft's wall that had been hollowed out. In the flickering light of the sconces I saw a perfect sphere, the size of a basketball. The Song was screaming now. “This is it,” I said. “This is the Loculus! But that one . . . back in there . . .”

Herostratus sighed. “The Zons will realize it is a fake, if they have not already. They are crafty, but over the eons have grown a little soft in the cerebrum.”

“The who?” Torquin said.

“The brain,” Eloise explained.

“So Brother Dimitrios died for a
fake Loculus
?” I could barely spit the words out.

“Brother Dimitrios,” Herostratus said, “was the one who made me swap it out. He met with me while the girl was preparing for battle. I told him I had made ceremonial replicas of the Loculus. We used them for pageants and such, so the real one would not be damaged. I was ordered by Cynthia, of course, to use the real one today. But I couldn't help bragging about the craftsmanship of the replicas. Even though it is not in my nature to boast—”

“Go on,” Marco said.

“Well, I am the Custodial Storage Executive,” Herostratus continued, “so a few centuries ago I fashioned this hiding place. Clever, no?”

I thought back. Dimitrios had been gone while we'd made the decision to substitute Marco for Eloise. “But . . .
why would Dimitrios want you to swap the real Loculus for a fake?” I said.

“Because he thought the girl would be torn to shreds,” Herostratus said. “A not unreasonable assumption. Which would ensure that the Loculus would remain here forever. Well, he didn't like that. And neither did I.”

“I find this line of thought very upsetting,” Eloise said.

“So you switched the Loculus for a fake,” I said. “And then what? We would leave Eloise's body in the stadium, run back here with you and Dimitrios, and then—whoosh—back to the island with the Loculus?”

Herostratus shook his head. “No,” he said softly. “Brother Dimitrios would. Alone. That was his plan.”

“You're lying!” Cass said. “It makes no sense. The Loculi don't work without the Select—which would be us. Dimitrios needed us to bring them back!”

“He had a different plan,” Herostratus said. “He was upset over being forced to accept some kind of truce between enemy camps.”

“The Karai and the Massa,” I said.

Herostratus nodded. “Yes, that sounds right. Well, Dimitrios had a list of young people who also had the mark—a database, I believe you call it. He thought that if he returned with this Loculus, he would be a hero. He would persuade his superior to recruit new . . . Selects. He believed that with you children on the island, he would
never achieve the power he deserved.”

From the hallway outside, I heard a dull thump, and then another. Herostratus jumped. “They are breaking down the barrier. We must escape.”

As I reached for the Loculus, Marco grabbed the latch on the door. But it wouldn't budge. “Let us out, dude,” he said to Herostratus.

A third thump was followed by a huge crash. And the pounding of footsteps.

“On one condition,” Herostratus said. “Take me with you.”

“Whaaaat?”
Cass said.

“They are gods, and by the curse of Massarym, they will disappear upon the taking of the Loculus,” Herostratus said. “But my curse was not set by Massarym. It was set by
them
. When they are gone, I shall become human again.”

“Heck no, Fire Boy!” Marco spat. “You were going to go through with Dimitrios's plan.”

“You're as bad as he was,” Eloise said.

Now the footsteps were settling outside the door. Something pounded on it with a force that shook the entire shaft.

“Please!” Herostratus said. “Have mercy on a fellow traveler.”

The pounding was louder now. The center of the door was cracking, the latch beginning to warp. In one or two tries, they would be in.

Herostratus was looking at me desperately. His eyes were glowing an extrafierce orange now. I knew he'd suffered under the Zons. But he'd been punished for setting fire to one of the great structures of ancient history. And he'd been ready to sacrifice us for his own freedom. He couldn't be trusted.

“Sorry, Herostratus,” I said.

I placed my hand on the Loculus.

Cass and Marco, on my left and my right, put a hand on my shoulder. Torquin and Eloise touched them.

At that moment the door crashed open, shattering the marble shaft that housed the Loculus.

And I heard the screaming of a cat.