To Ian’s surprise, Thatcher suddenly appeared at his side. Winding his own arm back, Thatcher let loose a rock that skipped once and hit the larger beast right in the snout. It yelped, then growled, and a little hope rose in Ian’s chest. “Keep throwing!” Thatcher said. “We’ve got to give the others time to get through the portal!”
Ian and Thatcher threw a volley of rocks, shells, and sand—anything they could get their hands on—at the beasts.
Finally, Thatcher looked over his shoulder and saw that Perry nearly had the professor into the mouth of the cave. “Best to run for it,” he said to Ian, and the two bolted toward the cave. Behind them they could hear the growl of the beasts and the splashing take on a frantic pace, but they didn’t pause to look back. Ian knew they’d make the cave ahead of the beasts, and if the portal wall was open, they could get to the tunnel and race for the stairs. He’d worry about the beasts charging after him once he made it back to British soil. For the moment he put all his concentration into making it to the cavern.
But just as he and Thatcher were in that final sprint, a figure, tall and cloaked, stepped from the shadows, blocking their entrance. Ian and Thatcher swerved to avoid crashing into it and both of them tripped and fell into the sand.
“So we meet again,” said an eerie, high-pitched voice, sending a chill up Ian’s spine. Scrambling to his feet, Ian faced the figure. In front of him stood the Druid sorcerer, Magus the Black. “I see you’ve made the acquaintance of two of my pets,” he said. Behind him, Ian could hear the pounding of paws, large as dinner plates, closing in.
Thatcher was a little slower in getting to his feet, but after pulling himself up, he shouted, “Out of our way!”
But Magus only laughed, the sound like hot metal hitting water. “Now, now,” said Magus, wagging his finger at Thatcher. “Temper, temper.” He waved his hand and Thatcher fell back to his knees, gripping his stomach in agony. Ian hurried to his schoolmaster and tried to help him to his feet, but Magus waved his hand again and Ian fell, curling up into himself. His insides felt as if they were on fire. “My pets always did like their meat cooked,” said Magus, his voice breaking through Ian’s agony like an ice pick.
But before Magus could continue, there was a loud gasp that wasn’t from Ian or Thatcher, and Magus the Black fell to his own knees, gripping his rear end. Instantly, the pain in Ian’s insides stopped and he lay there panting and dazed.
“Leave them alone!” he heard Carl shout, and Ian caught a glimpse of his friend standing over Magus, the tip of his sword dark with blood.
Arms curled under Ian’s shoulders and he was lifted to his feet. “Run!” Thatcher gasped, and Ian did. He, Carl, and Thatcher raced around Magus, who was still holding on to his buttocks.
“We’ve got to make it!” shouted Carl as they tore into the cave and threw themselves forward.
As they hurtled across the line in the stone that marked the wall, Ian fell to his knees, his abdomen growing hot again. Carl fell too, then Thatcher, and the three crawled on until the pain became too intense. Ian was aware of paws thundering into the cavern and a great howl echoed along the walls. He rolled to the side, hugging his stomach, writhing in pain, as a dark shadow passed over his head and landed nearby. Then there was a great scraping sound, and when it ended, the pain in his insides disappeared entirely.
He lay there gasping for breath and realized that Carl was on his knees, struggling to stand. “Ian,” he sputtered. “Get up!”
But Ian knew he couldn’t. That second assault had taken everything out of him. In the back of his mind, he knew that the shadow that had passed over him was the beast, and its hot breath was right now blowing down at him from just a foot or two away, but he was too drained of energy to care. “I can’t,” he gasped. “Save yourself, Carl.” Then the world grew dark.
THE GARDENER’S TALE
I an awoke to a chaos of noise, shouting, and confusion. He picked his dizzy head up from the lap it was resting on, and saw an awful sight unfolding below him. He realized with a jolt that he was on the stairs leading down to the portal, and below him, at the base of the steps, the smaller of the beasts stood menacingly, growling at Perry, Thatcher, Jaaved, and Carl. His friends and schoolmasters were moving around the beast in a circle, yelling at the hellhound while they held it off with any weapon they could find. Thatcher had the long stick that Carl had first brought down to the tunnel; Perry had the shield from the soldier encased in the wall; Carl had his short sword; and Jaaved had the professor’s walking stick.
Even in his dazed state, Ian could see that the beast was having a hard time concentrating as it struggled to focus and blood dribbled from its right ear. The several knocks to the head it had received seemed to have severely wounded the creature. He also saw that it moved lethargically, probably worn out from all the running and swimming, and Ian realized with hope that their band might be able to hold it off until help arrived.
“He’s awake!” shouted Theo.
“Ian?” said the professor, off to his left. “Ian, my young man, you must get up and make your way out of here! The others will do their best to hold off the beast until we get to safety, but we cannot leave you in this state.”
Ian groaned while he got shakily to his feet. “Theo, Professor, you two go,” he insisted. “Get some men from the castle. Tell them to bring their guns. I’m going down to help them keep it occupied.”
“Don’t be ridic—” Theo began, but Ian turned to her with a look of such intensity that she didn’t finish.
“Go!” he shouted at her, and he stumbled woozily down the stairs to join the others while they yelled and called and chanted at the beast.
Perry banged his fist on the copper shield, creating an awful racket, which made the beast shake its head and growl low. “It can’t handle the noise!” shouted Perry when Ian came to stand next to him. “Every time we yell, it gets confused!”
Ian bent and picked up a nearby rock, then threw it as hard as he could at the ugly matted creature. He smiled when it hit the creature squarely on the nose. The beast yelped and shook its head, then turned toward Ian. Peeling back its lips, the hellhound snarled and crouched low. Perry pounded on the shield again to distract it, but the beast paid him no heed. Somehow it managed to focus only on Ian.
“Yah!” said Thatcher as he poked the beast with his stick. “Take that!”
The hellhound snarled at the schoolmaster but quickly focused back on Ian, who took a wary step away, regretting the stone he’d just lobbed. The way the beast was looking at him, he could tell that the brute was about to pounce.
“Ian!” shouted Thatcher as he jabbed his stick at the beast again. “Run!”
Ian took another unsteady step backward just as the beast gave a terrific growl and leapt into the air. Ian’s breath caught; his vision filled with the beast flying directly toward him, its hideous jaws opened wide.
Inches from death and paralyzed in fear, Ian was suddenly shoved violently sideways and he crashed to the floor while a horrible and deafening yelp pierced the night like a knife.
He rolled quickly to one side and tried to get to his feet, but he was in such terrible shape it took him a moment. Finally managing to stand, he looked at where he’d just been. There lay the beast, its mouth open, red-tinted drool dripping onto the tunnel floor, its eyes glazed over lifelessly.
The beast was dead! But just as he was about to shout for joy, he noticed a thin, bony arm sticking out from under the hellhound. “Oh, no,” he gasped. Thatcher and Perry were already pulling at the beast and trying to shove it off poor Carl.
The beast was terrifying even dead, its sulfuric stink almost too horrific to stand. And when the two men finally managed to roll it over, Ian’s heart sank once again. Carl’s sword was buried deep within the creature’s furry flesh, but poor Carl was left flat on the ground, pale and limp. Ian rushed to Thatcher, who bent down to pick up the unconscious boy.
“We must get him help,” said Thatcher, lifting Car
l gently in his arms. “Hurry, to the castle!”
Everyone raced up the stairs and ran toward Castle Dover.
Ian led the way through the woods and to the path leading to the castle. They were just about to enter the back gate when it opened and none other than the earl appeared, along with several of his armed men and Theo. Ian was startled to see him, as he hadn’t realized he was in residence. “Where’s the beast?” the earl demanded when he reached them.
“Dead, back at the tunnel,” said Perry, coming up beside Ian; then the schoolmaster pointed behind him to his brother, holding Carl. “The boy killed him single-handedly, but the poor lad is in terrible shape.”
“Here,” said the earl more gently as he passed his rifle off to one of the men and held his arms out for Carl. “Give him to me. We’ve already sent for the doctor. Professor Nutley collapsed inside.”
The earl took Carl carefully and hurried back through the gate and up to the castle, where a bustle of activity was taking place. Servants rushed about, gathering blankets and basins of water. Ian followed the earl anxiously as he carried Carl into the drawing room and laid him gently on the couch. Ian stood there, staring down at his friend, feeling helpless and afraid. Carl seemed to be breathing, but not well, and there was a ragged sound to his inhalations that Ian knew was dire. Theo came to his side and placed her hand in his. “Come,” she said softly. “Let them tend to him.”
Ian followed her to sit by the fireplace. He gazed around the room dully. Theo sat next to him, reaching out to hold his hand now and again, but even she couldn’t ease the knot of worry and sadness that tangled up his insides. Jaaved sat across from them and stared at his surroundings with large brown eyes but he didn’t seem to notice much that was going on around him.
A doctor arrived in short order and was shown to Carl’s side. The children were then urged to the dining hall, where large bowls of steaming cabbage soup and huge chunks of freshly baked bread were placed in front of them. Even though Ian’s stomach rumbled with hunger, he couldn’t manage more than a few sips of soup and a nibble or two of bread.
No one disturbed them as they sat in the dining room. Before they’d left the drawing room, Ian had caught the earl motioning Perry and Thatcher away as soon as the doctor had arrived. Ian wondered how the earl would react to their incredible tale. It occurred to him that he might not believe them, were it not for the awful condition they were all in.
He glanced down at himself and—if his best mate hadn’t been in the other room fighting for his life—would have laughed at how he must appear. Perry and the professor had been a mess as well, covered in soot, and all their faces were freckled, red, and blistered, as if they’d spent several days in the sun, which in fact they had.
After a long while, servants came in and removed their mostly untouched dinners. The maid who cleared his plate clucked unhappily at him, but as he looked up at her, she seemed to catch herself and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder instead.
Just as Ian was about to pull himself away from the table, there was a commotion in the front hall, Madam Dimbleby’s voice rising above the fray. “I demand to know where my children are!” she insisted. “Landis said they’ve been attacked by that awful beast again! Take me to them immediately!”
A moment later she was bustling into the dining hall, her face tense until she saw them, and then she let out a gasp and her hand flew to her mouth. She stared with wide, disbelieving eyes, first at Ian, then at Theo, and finally at Jaaved. Ian saw that her gaze lingered the longest on the foreign-looking boy. She blinked furiously, as if she were trying to place the face with a name.
“His name is Jaaved,” Theo said quietly. “He’s an orphan, from Morocco.”
Madam Dimbleby’s eyes darted to Theo, and she opened her mouth as if to speak but no sound came out. Instead, she leaned against the doorway and simply stared at them. Finally, she seemed to gather her composure and came into the room to sit down next to Ian. Taking his hand, her eyes roved his sunburned face and tattered clothes and she said, “Ian, dear, please tell me, what on earth has happened to you in the last few hours?”
But Ian found that he couldn’t speak. He was suddenly completely overcome by his exhaustion; his many aches, pains, cuts, and bruises; his hunger and thirst; and most of all his intense worry over Carl. He could only stare back at her, his eyes welling and then overflowing with tears. Even so, he tried to open his mouth to talk, but no sound came out. Finally, he shook his head, unable to communicate anything other than his misery.
And to his immense relief, Madam Dimbleby seemed to understand. She looked deeply into his eyes and nodded. “All right, lad,” she said softly, stroking his hair. “It can wait. Let’s get you upstairs for a bath and a soft bed, shall we? I believe the earl would not object if you all stayed the night here, away from prying eyes and questions.”
Ian nodded and wiped his nose on his tattered sleeve. Save for Carl’s recovery, there was nothing he could think of that would be better.
It was a long time before Ian woke. But when he did, he rolled over and blinked against the light coming through curtains he didn’t immediately recognize. His mind seemed to want to place him at the keep, but the view from where he was lying was all wrong. And then, as if his brain were a train that had slowly left the station, it began to pick up steam, and all that had happened came flooding back.
He wanted to curl away from the assault of those memories and would have attempted to go back to sleep were it not for two things that he realized with a jolt: that according to the sun’s position through the window, it was late afternoon, and that the earl was sitting next to his bed, wearing a smile and watching him closely. “It’s about time you woke up, lad.”
Ian sat up stiffly and winced. He was very, very sore and the sudden movement sent little tremors of pain through several body parts. “I’m sorry, my lord,” he said with a groan as he prepared to throw back the covers and get out of bed.
“Now, now,” said the earl, placing a gentle hand on the bedsheets to stop him from leaving. “The doctor has suggested that you take a few days to regain your strength, and allow those feet to heal. And seeing that Schoolmasters Perry and Thatcher agree you’ve been through the greatest ordeal, you’re to remain here for another day or two at least.”
Ian sat back against his pillow, relieved and grateful. “Thank you, my lord.”
“How are you feeling, lad?” the earl asked him.
“Better, thank you. Just a bit hungry is all.”
The earl smiled. “I’ll send for some supper as soon as we’re finished talking,” he said. “First I want to hear your version of what happened. I’ve already heard from Schoolmasters Goodwyn, Miss Fields, and this bright young boy, Jaaved, but now I think I shall like to hear your story.”
So Ian told him, as succinctly as possible, about everything that had happened from the time he and Carl had discovered the portal and the bones in the wall to when they’d met the earl on the garden path, with his poor friend so close to death. Ian dropped his chin and had a hard time meeting the earl’s gaze.
“Carl will recover, Ian,” the earl assured him.
Ian lifted his chin, hope welling up in his chest. “Really?” he asked. “Can I see him?”
The earl crossed his legs and sat back in his chair. “No, lad, I’m sorry. He’s been taken to hospital.”
Ian’s jaw dropped. “Hospital?” he asked in alarm. “When will he be released?”
“A week,” said the earl. “Several of his ribs were broken, and one of them punctured his lung. It was a very close call there and a lucky thing we’re not far away from some of Britain’s finest doctors. I met with them myself this morning, and they assured me that, barring any unforeseen complications, Carl will make a full recovery.”
Ian nodded solemnly. “I need to give him my thanks,” he murmured. “He saved my life, you know.”
“And according to all accounts, you saved his, Theo’s, Thatcher’s, Perry’s, a
nd the professor’s,” said the earl. “It seems that all of you joined together to leave no man behind.”
Ian hadn’t looked at it that way, and he was grateful for the earl’s perspective. “And how is the professor?” he asked, remembering the gray pallor of the old man.
“In hospital as well, but also expected to make a full recovery. He’ll be right as rain soon enough, which is a good thing, as I’ll need to talk to him about this mystical portal on my property as soon as possible.”
“I’m sorry I disobeyed orders not to go exploring again,” Ian said, lowering his face once more. He hated disappointing the earl.
The earl was silent for so long that Ian finally looked up, thinking that he’d really bungled it this time, but when he looked into the older man’s eyes, he could swear he saw indecision there. Finally, the earl seemed to make up his mind and he leaned forward again and began talking softly to Ian. “My young Master Wigby,” he said. “What do you know about your delivery to Delphi Keep?”
Ian’s brow furrowed. “My lord?” he said, having no idea what the earl was asking.
The earl appeared to struggle for the right words. “What I mean to say is … has anyone ever told you how you came to my orphanage?”
“Er …,” Ian said, still very confused. “No, my lord, they haven’t.” The earl frowned, and Ian thought he’d given the wrong answer, so he added, “But that could be my fault. I’ve never asked.”
The earl grunted and sat back again with a sigh. “I suppose someone should tell you the story sooner or later,” he said. “And in light of these recent events, I believe it is probably my responsibility after all.”
Ian was trying to follow the earl’s words, but it seemed that his patriarch was talking in circles. “Thank you, my lord, that would be nice.”
“You see,” the earl began, “thirteen years ago last month, one of my gardeners was taking an afternoon nip of bourbon out beyond the castle’s walls. According to his story, he heard something like the sound of a baby crying coming from that patch of woods where you discovered the portal. So, my gardener ventured into them and found a stone structure which obscured a set of stairs.