“Calling my pets,” he said—but not in Dieter’s real voice; he used his own.
Atroposa and Caphiera reeled backward before dropping to their knees and prostrating themselves. “Sire!” they said as one. “You grace us with your presence!”
“I do indeed, my daughters,” said the underworld god. Pointing to the box, he asked, “Is that from the Secret Keeper?”
They nodded hastily. “I destroyed it for you, Sire!” Atroposa said.
“I destroyed it!” Caphiera snapped.
“Enough!” Demogorgon roared. “As long as the box is demolished and the scroll with it, the prophecy cannot be fulfilled.” He then looked down at himself and frowned. “This form will not hold my spirit for long without being consumed by my power. Before that happens, we must find your brother, tame your sister, and vanquish the United.”
At that moment, the hellhound, crouched low with her tail tucked under her, appeared from the forest and approached warily. Demogorgon could see she was injured, but not mortally. “Lead us to my son, Medea,” he said.
The hellhound licked Dieter’s hand and turned to dash back into the woods. “Come!” commanded Demogorgon as he walked from the yard. “We have a world to conquer and limited time to do it in.”
THE GARDENER’S GRAVE … AGAIN
A week after returning from Berchtesgaden, Ian, Theo, Carl, Jaaved, Eva, and the earl stood with Iyoclease at the entrance to the portal. Ian wondered if he’d have a chance later to spend a little time with Wolfie, but he knew it was too dangerous. The poor boy was being kept in a room at the castle where only the earl, the earl’s aunt the lady Arbuthnot and Mr. Binsford were allowed to see him. The earl had promised that as soon as Wolfie stopped trying to control the minds of everyone around him, he would be let out, but for now, no one could trust him. Lady Arbuthnot seemed able to thwart Wolfie’s best efforts to control her mind, and her vigil with him was almost constant. Ian hoped she could win him over soon.
At present, however, Ian was jittery and nervous, feeling Adrastus’s bronze cuffs fit loosely around his wrists. He knew the others were looking at him expectantly, which only added to his nerves.
“You can do it,” Theo whispered, squeezing his hand. “Just do what Adrastus said and all will be well.”
Ian smiled. He loved his sister for her faith in him. Turning to Iyoclease, he asked for the tenth time, “Are you ready?”
Iyoclease beamed at him, holding high the silver treasure box with Ian’s copy of the map inside. “I am, Ian.”
Ian had thought long and hard that week about how best to use the cuffs. He knew his first mission should be to send the recovering Iyoclease back home to his own time, but perhaps there was more that he should or could do to help set things straight.
He’d gotten the idea to send Iyoclease home with the treasure box Adria had crafted in their room at the inn, after receiving a note from the admiral that he was still waiting on the map that Ian had promised him. It had ignited a curious thought in Ian’s mind, and to investigate it, he and Carl had taken the train to London to visit Professor Nutley.
Ian had asked the professor to show him the map that had come from the very first box he and Theo had discovered. That map—although aged and fragile—had been an exact replica of the one that Ian himself had created a full year before discovering the first silver box.
Theo had warned Ian not to have both maps in the same room with each other, and that had really sparked his theory. He wondered what would happen if he ignored her advice, and sure enough, when the professor had lifted the fragile piece of paper from his desk drawer and Ian had pulled out his original map at the same time, the older version had evaporated before their very eyes.
Poor Professor Nutley had been beside himself, but Ian hadn’t felt bad at all. He now knew exactly how the map had gotten inside that first treasure box. It had been carried back to Laodamia by Iyoclease himself.
Also inside the box was the heart of the Star of Lixus. Ian had asked Jaaved for it, and when the young Moroccan had learned why, he’d been all too happy to give it up.
Ian knew that Laodamia would need the Star to create her prophecies in a language they could work out with the professor’s help—a mix of English and ancient Greek. Ian also knew that sending the Star and the map tucked inside a small silver treasure box was essential, as Adria herself had admitted to being inspired to create the series of silver boxes by the very one owned by Laodamia—one the Oracle had received from her betrothed shortly after he returned from his mysterious disappearance.
But as useful and likely essential as all these things were to Laodamia and their quest, Ian still hesitated to send Iyoclease back without one more significant bit of knowledge. The reason he hesitated was that he didn’t quite know how to tell a man that he would be murdered by the evil sorcerer named Magus the Black.
Ian, Carl, and Theo had long debated whether to tell Iyoclease. Carl reasoned that if Iyoclease knew of his destiny, he might take steps to alter it and irrevocably change history, with disastrous consequences.
Theo, however, was simply convinced that Ian must tell the warrior his fate. Which was easy for her to say—she was a seer. She thought everyone should know their fate, if they could.
But Ian was torn. Even now, he didn’t open the portal because he still hadn’t made up his mind. “Master Wigby,” the earl said. “The hour grows late.”
Ian swallowed hard and raised his arms. Iyoclease smiled encouragingly at him, no doubt anxious to be off, and that look of exuberant happiness to be going home was what gave Ian pause. The poor man had no idea what he was going home to.
Lowering his arms, he said, “I can’t.”
“Why not?” asked Carl.
Without answering, Ian stepped up to Iyoclease and said, “If I knew something about your fate, Iyoclease, would you want me to tell you?”
The Phoenician soldier regarded Ian thoughtfully. “I have no doubt you know how I will perish, Ian,” he said bluntly. “And by the look of all these sad faces just now, I’m assuming I do not die an old man?”
Ian stared hard at the ground. “Right before she died, Mistress Adria shared something with me.…”
“Yes?” Iyoclease said when Ian didn’t continue.
Ian closed his eyes and spoke very quickly. “She said that Magus the Black killed you. She told me he was responsible for your murder.”
The cavern they stood in was so silent Ian thought everyone might be able to detect his pounding heart. At last he heard Iyoclease speak. “Tell me word for word, what did my dear friend say?”
Ian tried to swallow the lump in his throat that formed every time he thought of the final moments of that brave woman. Wanting to quote her exactly, he said, “Her exact words were ‘Tell Iyoclease, Magus kill him.’ ”
Ian looked up to gauge the noble man’s reaction, but what he saw in Iyoclease’s eyes surprised him. “You know?” he guessed.
Iyoclease smiled and squeezed Ian’s shoulder. “Laodamia is my betrothed, Ian. Do you really believe she would not warn me of such a fate?”
Ian blinked. If Iyoclease knew who would kill him, why had he not altered history to strike first or take Laodamia out of Phoenicia and flee? Ian was about to ask that very thing when Iyoclease stopped him. “You know only a piece of the puzzle, Ian, but soon you will know more, that I promise you. Now, if you would oblige me, I would very much like to go home.”
Ian looked at his cuffs again, terribly sad that he’d done nothing to help this man who’d done so much for him and his friends. He then remembered what Adrastus had told him: that the cuffs had once belonged to Iyoclease. Taking them off, he handed them to the soldier and said, “Here. These are yours now.”
Iyoclease shook his head, but Ian wasn’t having any of it. He knew he was possibly giving up his last chance to discover the truth about his origins. He’d had a chance to fantasize for a week about opening the portal up to the day that he’d been given to the gardener by hi
s mother, but he hadn’t done it. Now he was out of time, because clearly the only way the cuffs could ever be given to Adrastus in the first place was if Ian gave them to Iyoclease now.
But the soldier was still attempting to back away from Ian when he offered them. So Ian set his jaw with determination and pushed them onto each of the soldier’s wrists. Once they were in place, Ian said, “Adrastus told me to cross my arms over my chest and allow the portal to enter my mind. Reading my intentions, it would open up to wherever I needed to go next.”
Iyoclease frowned at him but did not protest further. Instead, he turned to face the stone wall and placed his arms across his chest before closing his eyes.
For a moment, nothing happened, and then, quite abruptly, there was a grinding noise and the wall disappeared. Beyond it were a bright blue sky and bleached sandstone. Iyoclease opened his eyes and stepped forward before turning around to wave at them.
Ian waved vigorously too, and just as the wall closed again, he thought he’d never seen a man look happier.
Three days later they received the news. On a dreary rainy day, the earl came to them at the keep, finding them holed up in the tower, where Ian and Carl were trying very hard to appear interested in the play put on by Theo, Eva, and Jaaved. Despite his best efforts, Ian knew he might lose the battle. The play was dreadfully dull. It was about a tea party, after all.
He’d have much preferred to be in the company of Océanne, but she and her mother were still in deep mourning over the loss of Monsieur Lafitte and were spending the afternoon with each other at Castle Dover.
So when the earl arrived, Ian felt relieved until he saw the expression on the man’s face. In the earl’s hand was a yellow telegram, but one look at the earl told him the news must be terrible. “I’ve received word, about Perry Goodwyn,” he said, sitting down on Carl’s cot.
“What is it?” asked Eva, setting down her teacup immediately.
The earl’s lower lip trembled and it took a moment for him to collect himself. “Our sources in Germany report that a British spy was caught in Berchtesgaden, plotting an attempt on the Führer’s life. He was shot at dawn, three days ago.”
Ian felt as if he’d been punched in the stomach. Theo rushed into his arms and began sobbing in earnest, and Jaaved and Eva were overcome as well.
“His brother?” Ian asked, his voice hoarse and choked with emotion.
“I’ve just come from his cottage,” said the earl. “I heard that he’d taken ill and was in bed since the day before yesterday. When I spoke with him, he said he knew the moment it happened. He’d felt a part of him die.”
Ian cast his eyes to the floor. He felt terrible, not solely for the loss of a dear friend and his schoolmaster, but also because he’d done nothing to stop Perry from doing something so foolish. How had his schoolmaster ever thought he could get away with something so brazen?
The earl got to his feet and shuffled over to the steps. “We live in dark times, my children,” he said to them. “Perry’s brave sacrifice mustn’t be for naught. Find the next box and the last Oracle, Ian.”
Ian looked up then and he shook his head. How was he to find the next box without the cuffs or the one left in Germany to help him? He suddenly felt even more dreadful because he realized he’d likely given away any opportunity to find the next box when he’d given the cuffs to Iyoclease.
Stupid! he thought, hating himself for his impulsiveness.
Later that day Ian’s mood was as foul as the weather. Shamefaced, he found himself leaving the comfort of the others, even though he knew he should be doing something to help ease all the terrible sorrow filling their lives.
But he found he didn’t have it in him after hearing about Perry. He felt that he could barely take a full breath, in fact. The blow was more than physical; it had rocked him to the core.
He left the keep and began walking. The roads were choked with military traffic, which was why it took him most of the afternoon to reach his destination, but as he went into the quiet cemetery, he found a familiar comfort, especially when he approached the grave of the gardener.
He stood in front of it for a long, long time, his thoughts tumbling around inside his head. The ache in his heart from Perry’s loss filled his chest like mud; all the while the rain poured down around him, soaking him to the skin.
“Pardon me,” said a soft voice behind him.
Ian jumped. He looked over his shoulder and found a feeble-looking old woman there, hunched down under her umbrella, staring at him curiously. “Yes?” he asked, not knowing what else to say.
“Did you know him?” she replied, pointing to the grave.
Ian blinked. “Yes,” he said again. “We met once, but very briefly.”
Again the woman stared curiously at him, and Ian wondered if she doubted his story. “He rescued me,” he said, and as the words came out of his mouth, he knew them to be true.
“Rescued you?” she asked, stepping closer to him and lifting up her umbrella to kindly offer him a bit of shelter from the rain. “My brother rescued you?”
“Your brother?” Ian repeated.
The woman nodded. “Yes. Errol was my older brother.”
Ian felt a tingle raise the hairs along the back of his neck. “You don’t say?”
“It’s true,” she told him, nodding vigorously. “And he never said anything about rescuing a young lad.…” And then the woman seemed to catch herself, and her free hand came out to grip Ian’s arm. “Are you the babe?” she asked. “The babe he was accused of stealing?”
Ian smiled. “I am the babe he rescued from a cavern near the Earl of Kent’s castle, ma’am. I bear no grudge against your brother, and I know with certainty that he had no part in stealing me.”
The woman’s face filled with gratitude and she slid her hand down to Ian’s and took a firm hold. “Come with me,” she said. “You’ll need a spot of tea, a warm fire, and a story to cheer your heart.”
A bit later Ian sat huddled in a towel in the tiny kitchen of the dear old woman. “Name’s Alice,” she told him. “Mrs. Wallace, if you prefer.”
Ian sipped his tea and smiled. He liked the old woman immensely, and his heart was eased by her kindly attentions. After setting a plate of biscuits in front of him, Alice shuffled off to her bedroom, only to reappear with some small object wrapped in velvet. Ian eyed the shape and size of the object keenly, his heart already quickening its beat. “This is for you,” she said, placing the velvet-wrapped package on the table in front of him.
Ian stared at it without touching it. Could it be?
Alice sat down and pointed to the present. “The day my brother found you and your mother in that dark tunnel near the earl’s property, he told me that after handing off her babe, the woman pushed this little treasure at him, insisting that he take it.
“He said that he didn’t feel right about it, and he wondered why the woman wanted to pay him with treasure when he gladly would have seen you to safety. He took you to the earl and tried to explain it all, but poor Errol had a reputation as a drunkard, and the earl didn’t believe him.
“Errol never blamed him, though. My brother had a good heart.”
Alice looked at Ian hopefully, as if wishing he could see past her brother’s foolish acts and find the way to his good nature. “Yes,” he agreed, wanting nothing but to please her. “I’d long heard what a kind and gentle man your brother was, and the very best gardener in Dover too.”
Alice sat back, beaming him a smile. “Yes, he most certainly was,” she said. “But back to this treasure. You see, Errol wanted to explain to the earl that a strange woman had given him the treasure as payment for seeing the babe to safety, but after the earl accused him of stealing the child, Errol knew that he’d be further accused if he revealed this.” For emphasis, Alice tapped the velvet covering. “So he kept it a secret, holding on to it all these years. I told him to sell it, as I knew he needed the money. Hard to find work after your reputation’s been ruined. But h
e never did. No, Errol never sold it.
“Instead, he kept it carefully hidden, only bringing it out on special occasions and the like. No finer thing has ever graced our family’s house, I tell you. On his deathbed he gave it to me, but not to keep, no. He made me promise not to keep it should its rightful owner ever turn up.”
“Rightful owner?” Ian asked.
“Yes. You see, the more Errol thought on it, the more convinced he was that the box wasn’t given to him as payment; it was given to him for safekeeping. He believed strongly that it belonged to the babe from the cavern and he made me swear that if you ever came round looking for it, I’d see you got it.”
With trembling fingers Ian lifted the edge of the velvet and pulled away the cloth. He could hardly believe his eyes when he took in the sight. It was Adria’s silver box, the very one she’d crafted at the inn in Berchtesgaden. The one he’d sent back with Iyoclease to give to Laodamia. A treasure box she herself had treasured.
“There’s something inside,” Alice said, coaxing him. “Errol tried for years to figure out how to open it, but he could never work out a way without damaging the box, so he left it alone and I did too.”
Another lump formed in Ian’s throat as his brain raced to connect the dots and a well of emotion so deep and so strong came up from inside him and this time he couldn’t quite get past it. Alice seemed to see his distress and she got up from her chair and came over to wrap her arms about him. “There, there, lad,” she said. “It’s all right.”
Ian clung to her, trying not to let himself fall to pieces, but that Alice would present him with this box and not one of the others slid so many puzzle pieces into place that the shock of it simply took his breath away.
“You’re overcome because this box proves it, doesn’t it?”
Ian blinked. He didn’t know quite what she meant; after all, how could she possibly know all that the box’s appearance signified?
When he didn’t answer her, Alice backed away a bit to look down at him. “It’s proof that your mum loved you very much, Ian. And whatever her reasons for giving you away, I’d wager, they were reasons born of desperation.”