He flicked at Jaaved’s finger and snored even louder. Jaaved turned to the group and gave them all a sheepish grin, then he turned back to the man and tapped again. With a snort the man started and opened his eyes. When he realized that there were strangers standing expectantly nearby, he stood as quickly as his large girth would allow and spoke what Ian assumed were his apologies to their group.
The professor extended his hand and the two men began to converse. Ian looked behind him at Thatcher and said, “Would you mind translating for us?”
The schoolmaster’s lips were pursed tightly in disapproval but he complied. Keeping his voice low and quiet, he said, “The man’s name is Mohammad. He owns that berth and that ratty-looking sloop over there.” Ian’s eyes traveled down the pier to the one-masted sailboat that looked like it’d seen far better days. “The professor has asked to rent the vessel for a trip up the Loukkos River to Lixus for a few days,” Thatcher continued, “and Mohammad is saying that he cannot possibly spare his precious boat for that long. He is suggesting a trip around the harbor instead.”
Ian listened and turned to see the professor smile politely and reach discreetly into his pocket to pull out some pound notes. “The professor is telling Mohammad that he’s quite certain he would rather travel up the Loukkos and he’d be very happy if Mohammad would reconsider.”
There was a pause in the conversation while Mohammad greedily eyed the money in the professor’s hand. And then he spoke again.
“He has reconsidered,” said Thatcher with a smirk. “And he is offering Jaaved to pilot us up the river.”
“Can Jaaved sail that thing?” Ian asked, looking skeptically from the rickety sloop to the slight boy.
“Apparently,” said Thatcher. “And Jaaved says his grandfather lives on the banks of the ancient city and would welcome us with a hot meal and a free tour of the ruins if we’d like to see them.”
“Maybe he’s the Seeker, then?” said Carl.
“Who?” asked Ian.
“That bloke’s grandfather,” said Carl.
“Can’t be,” said Theo. “In my vision I clearly saw a boy.”
“Well, then how about that Jaaved character?” whispered Carl. “Do you suppose he’s your Seeker?”
Theo’s brows knit together. “No,” she said, after considering him. “I mean, I didn’t have a really clear vision of the boy, but the most distinctive thing I do remember about him from my vision was the diamond mark on his right hand, and Jaaved’s right hand is free of any mark.”
Ian squinted at Jaaved’s hand. It was, as Theo said, free of any strange markings. When he saw that Jaaved was looking at him quizzically, he averted his eyes and looked back at the professor, who was shaking hands with Mohammad.
“Well, children,” said Thatcher, “it seems we have ourselves a vessel.”
Next the professor turned to Jaaved and asked him something in French.
When Jaaved nodded, Ian looked to his schoolmaster, who whispered, “He’s asked Jaaved if he can arrange to get us some supplies for the journey.”
Jaaved led the group to the very end of the harbor, where a rather steep set of stairs took them up to the top of a short cliff overlooking the harbor, and at the top of the stairs was a building. Jaaved pointed to the ragtag shop, its name written in some odd script, and said, “Voila!”
The professor turned to Perry and Thatcher and said, “You two stay here while I take our young guide inside and have him help me select some supplies.” He disappeared indoors before they could even answer.
Thatcher and Perry sat down wearily under the shade of a palm tree while Ian, Carl, and Theo occupied themselves by watching the boats coming into port. Ian found that he couldn’t stop grinning as he gazed at the vessels and the people down on the dock. Looking off to his right, he could see the opening of the Loukkos River, where it emptied into the ocean. The river was wide and a deep rich blue.
Ian closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, feeling the hot sun on his eyelids and cheeks and smelling the salty air until he caught the smallest whiff of something foul.
Opening his eyes, Ian looked about and sniffed the breeze. What had that smell been and why did it seem so familiar? But he couldn’t find it again, even though he was turning in a circle, sniffing the air. He heard Theo giggle and he looked over to see her laughing at him. “What on earth are you doing?” she asked.
Ian broke into a sheepish grin. “Nothing,” he said quickly. “I thought I smelled something is all.”
“You smelled something?” Carl asked. “I bet it was a camel,” he said brightly. “I bet they’re really nasty-smelling up close.”
Ian nodded and joined them back at the edge of the cliff. “Yeah,” he said, “you’re probably right. I likely got a whiff of one of them on the breeze.” But at the back of his mind, something nagged at him. The smell had been nasty, like Carl had suggested, but that he found it familiar troubled him.
His attention was stolen, however, by his schoolmasters. Thatcher, it seemed, had been patiently telling his brother about what had occurred at the professor’s house, Laodamia and her prophecy, and how all the events that had recently occurred had been within the translated scroll from the silver box.
Perry turned to him and said, “Poppycock!” and Thatcher’s face scrunched up in anger.
“How can you say it’s poppycock!” he demanded. “I tell you, the translation is clear!” He motioned to Ian. “You’ve got the professor’s notes, don’t you, lad?”
“Yes, sir,” he said, digging into his trouser pocket and pulling out the prophecy.
After he handed it to Thatcher, the schoolmaster read it to his twin.
“Rubbish!” announced Perry, waving his hand flippantly.
“You cannot call it rubbish!” shouted Thatcher.
Ian listened intently as Thatcher explained how it could all be possible, how there was obviously some sort of natural hole in the space-time continuum and that was how the Portal could open up and dump them into another country. Perry was still convinced that he’d most likely gotten a thump on the head back in the tunnel and was right now having himself one jolly of a hallucination.
“You’re not hallucinating,” Thatcher insisted.
“If I were hallucinating, I would expect you to say that,” Perry replied.
Thatcher rolled his eyes at his brother. “We cannot all be having the same hallucination, Perry!”
“Of course not,” Perry said. “I’m the only one.”
“If you’re the only one, then how can I be here, experiencing the very same things you are?”
“Because you are a part of my hallucination!” snapped Perry.
Thatcher gave a terrific sigh and turned away from his brother toward Ian, who was trying to hide his smile when something seemed to waft right under his nose again, and he swore he’d just caught another whiff of that same nasty odor. “You all right, lad?” Thatcher asked, and Ian realized he had lifted his nose and was sniffing the air again intently.
Ian nodded. “Fine, sir,” he said quietly. “It’s just …”
“Just what, lad?” asked Thatcher.
Ian turned his head to look up and down the street before answering. “I think something’s not right.”
Thatcher pushed himself to his feet and came quickly over to Ian. “Really? What have you seen?”
“Nothing,” Ian admitted. “It’s just I keep smelling something foul on the air.”
“I thought we decided you were smelling camels,” Carl said.
Ian frowned. “Maybe,” he said.
“It’s this city,” said Perry from under the tree. “No telling what muck is in these streets. I’m sure they don’t have the same standards of sanitation that we have back in England.”
But Ian wasn’t so sure. His brain had finally placed the scent. It was that scent from the cavern where he’d found the box, and from the keep when the beast had attacked them in the east tower. He clearly remembered the distinct sulfuri
c smell.
He hoped that what he’d caught on the wind was just a combination of smelly odors that reminded him of the beast, because the alternative—having it lurking somewhere nearby—terrified him.
His troubled thoughts were distracted when the professor reappeared from the shop with Jaaved. “We’ll need some of you to help us with the supplies I’ve purchased,” said the professor. “And we should set sail immediately while we still have a bit of daylight left.”
“What about getting word to the earl?” asked Thatcher.
The professor scratched his chin. “Right,” he said. Then, looking down the street, he suddenly brightened. “There,” he said, pointing to a small stone building with a swirling script above the door. “There’s a post office. I shall send a letter immediately. You gentlemen load up and I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
Thatcher motioned to Carl and Theo. “You two, go with the professor while we pick up the supplies,” he instructed. Carl and Theo waved to Ian and trotted obediently after the old man. Next Ian, Thatcher, Perry, and Jaaved went inside the supply shop to pick up the four newly purchased back-packs loaded down with camping supplies and equipment.
“Here you go,” said Thatcher, helping Ian on with one of the packs. He pulled the straps tight, then gave Ian a pat on the shoulder as he stood back to appraise his handiwork. Ian found he couldn’t stand up straight and was stooping forward uncomfortably. “Is it too heavy?” the schoolmaster asked.
“No, sir,” Ian said with a grimace, working to appear stronger than he felt. “It’s just that it’s hitting the pocket torch in the back of my trousers.”
“Here,” said Thatcher, turning Ian around to pull up on the pack and fish out his light.
He tucked the small torch into the side compartment of his own backpack. “I’ll hold on to your torch until we make camp,” Thatcher said, then pulled out the folded translation of the prophecy and put that into the compartment, next to the pocket torch. “For safekeeping,” he said.
Ian attempted to smile, but the strain of the pack made it difficult. Thatcher also took Ian’s coat and eyed the top of Ian’s pack skeptically. “I don’t think we’ll add any more weight,” he said. “When Carl comes back, we’ll have him carry all the coats.”
“Can you just be careful of my compass and pocketknife in the pocket?” Ian asked, not wanting them to get tossed out when Carl was carrying the coats. Thatcher smiled and fished around inside Ian’s coat, retrieving the compass and pocketknife. He tucked them into the compartment where he’d placed the light and the prophecy. “There,” he said kindly. “Now all your treasures are together.”
Ian smiled gratefully, though he was afraid it might have looked more like a grimace.
His brow had broken out in a sweat from the strain of the heavy pack, but he wanted to appear capable of carrying his own load, so he kept quiet and watched as Perry and Thatcher both hefted their own packs onto their backs with grunts.
Once outside, Ian’s group joined the professor’s, and Thatcher handed Carl all their coats. “If you would see these safely down to the sloop, Master Lawson?”
Carl took the bundle of coats eagerly. “Of course,” he said.
“Word has been sent,” said the professor. “I’ve informed the earl that we are safe, that circumstances beyond our control have landed us in Morocco, and that in a fortnight we will be booking passage to Spain, where we will need funds to see us back home to England.”
“Very well,” said Thatcher reluctantly. “Let’s be off, then.”
Ian and the others followed Jaaved to the top of the stair-well leading back down to the marina. The Moroccan boy paused while Perry, Thatcher, and Ian—who was huffing and puffing under the weight of his pack—worked to catch up.
“Do you want some help, mate?” asked Carl over the pile of coats he was carrying.
“No thanks,” said Ian, anxious just to get down the stairs so that he could unload the pack. Before Ian had reached the others, Jaaved began down the steps, followed by the professor, Theo, Perry, Thatcher, and Carl, who waited at the top until Ian was close before heading down.
The straps of his pack bit painfully into his shoulders and the weight made his descent slightly hazardous. He could only imagine what would happen if he lost his footing.
By the time he was near the bottom, he could see that the rest of his group had already made it across the dock to the slip where the rickety sailboat waited to be boarded.
But Ian had to pause on the landing before the last steps to catch his wind and give his wobbly legs a rest. He watched as Jaaved hopped aboard the sloop and unloaded his knap-sack. Scuttling around the various ropes and buoys, he went about preparing the boat to leave the dock. “Par ici!” Jaaved said, waving on the rest of the group.
Ian forced air into his lungs and saw Carl and Theo jump aboard first, then turn to help the professor, while Perry and Thatcher shrugged out of their backpacks before stepping gingerly onto the boat.
Ian realized he was holding them up, so he pushed off from the railing he’d been leaning against, when his foot caught on something and he almost fell down the last set of stairs. He noticed with a growl of frustration that his right shoelace had come undone. He made his way carefully down the last few steps, then stopped again to retie it, but he hadn’t considered that bending over would throw him off balance, and the heavy backpack pulled him right over onto his side. His cheeks flushed red with embarrassment as he heard Theo and Carl break into hysterics and Thatcher call back, “You all right?”
Ian waved. “Fine, sir!” he said, and struggled under the bulky weight to right himself. Finally, he managed to get to his feet again and squatted carefully to finish tying his shoelace when a soft breeze carried the slightest hint of that foul odor to his nostrils. Ian lifted his head, sniffing the air in alarm.
Another breeze brought the smell again, but it competed with the briny scent of the sea and a hint of petrol. Ian hurried to lace up his shoe. He couldn’t be certain the scent belonged to the beast, but he knew he didn’t want to wait around to find out. Then he heard Theo’s laughter abruptly stop, and an instant later she let out a bloodcurdling scream.
Ian’s head snapped up and what he saw was both confusing and frightening. Everyone in the boat was yelling, but Theo looked out of her mind with fear and it was several seconds before he realized she and the others were all pointing and yelling at him.
He watched in a haze as Thatcher and Perry started climbing over each other in panic, trying to scramble back onto the dock, but the boat tipped precariously. Jaaved had already unwrapped one of the moorings, and his face was frozen in terror while his hands moved wildly to undo the other line. Ian squatted there for a few heartbeats, his mind slow to add things up, and then he heard the thundering of paws behind him.
He whipped his head around to look over his shoulder but the pack obscured his view. Turning his body carefully, he gasped when he saw the beast, its red eyes glowing and its lips pulled away from those deadly fangs in a frightening snarl, pounding down the staircase straight at him. For one horrible second Ian was frozen in place by his own terror as the beast raced at him with death in its eyes.
Theo’s scream, “Iiiiiiaaaaaaan!” finally broke the spell and urged him to bolt to his feet. He took two great leaps forward, but the heavy pack prevented him from gaining any speed. Ahead he could see Thatcher half in, half out of the boat as he held on to the pier with his fingertips while Jaaved pushed with an oar to send them out to sea. Perry was tangled in his brother’s legs while everyone else on the boat was screaming for Ian to run faster.
Somehow, Ian did. He gritted his teeth, balled his fists, and dug for every step. He leaned forward and allowed the weight of the backpack to propel him. Still, on his heels he could hear the beast thundering closer, and closer … and closer.
His feet pounded down the dock, his brow slick with sweat and his heart hammering hard. He was almost there.
Just behind him came a
growl that was deeper than he remembered and, if possible, more vicious. Ian’s lungs begged for air while his mind screamed in terror. To add to his horror, Jaaved finally won out against Thatcher’s efforts and the boat pushed away from the dock. The air all around was filled with nightmarish noises: Theo was screaming; Carl was pleading with him to run faster; Perry and Thatcher were yelling at Jaaved; and the professor was shouting incoherently at everyone while the beast’s paws thundered ever closer.
He was steps away from the end of the pier when he felt the hot breath of the beast on the backs of his arms. The boat was slipping farther away from the dock and Ian realized he would never make it. In the last split second, he and Theo locked eyes. He could see everything in them: her love for him, her terror at the beast charging him down, and her horror as she realized that Ian wasn’t going to make it.
It was that look that gave him courage, and just as he felt the beast’s paws hit his backpack, he lunged sideways, straight off the pier into the water.
The heavy weight of his pack immediately pulled him under, and as the contents became wet, he sank like a stone. Ian struggled and kicked with all his might to swim upward while his lungs—already deprived of oxygen—ached to inhale.
He clawed savagely at the water, making it up a bit with the effort of his strokes. The surface didn’t look far away, but as hard as he tried, the pack kept pulling him down. It was hopeless. He’d never reach the surface and the straps were so tight that he couldn’t manage to get out of them. If he stopped swimming to try to wiggle free, he’d descend too deeply to make it back to the surface at all.
His arms flailed and his feet kicked, but his efforts were growing weaker and weaker. He was sinking away from the air he so desperately needed and his vision filled with darkness and little bright stars. And then his mouth opened involuntarily and he inhaled, and the most pain he’d ever felt in his life racked his body as water poured into his lungs. He wretched and coughed and inhaled again, funneling more water into his airway. He shivered and shook in agony and the world around him became murkier and less bright until finally he lost the fight and let the darkness take him.