Seven Wonders 3-Book Collection

  “We know about something inside,” I replied. “Something important. It—it has something to do with Sippar. With the reason Sippar exists.”

  Daria’s eyes grew distant. “So this is why Nabu-na’id guards Mother’s Mountain?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “But we need to find out.”

  “What will happen if you take this . . . thing you need?” Daria asked hopefully. “Will Sippar go away?”

  Marco eyed me. “Yes!” he said quickly.

  Another lie. “Honestly, Daria,” I said, “we don’t know for sure—”

  “Marco! Jack!”

  I spun at the sound of Aly’s voice. She and Cass were racing toward us through the woods. As Marco waved to them, Daria’s friends stiffened. They reached for their blowpipes instinctively, but Daria gave them a reassuring smile.

  Cass and Aly practically fell over each other to hug us. Both were drenched in sweat from the run. “We thought you died!” Aly shouted.

  “That noise!” Cass said.

  Daria looked back the way they came. “Bel-Sharu-Usur? The guards? Where are they?”

  But Cass and Aly had spotted the Hanging Gardens. Their jaws were nearly scraping the ground. “That. Is. Utterly. Amazing,” Aly said.

  “A lot of people say that when they hug me,” Marco replied. “Hey, ever seen a mushushu bite?”

  Aly turned, eyeing Daria’s three friends for the first time. “No, but maybe you can introduce us?”

  “I am sorry,” Daria said. “These are Zinn, Shirath, and Yassur. Wardum, like me. We are rabbles.”

  “Rebels,” I clarified. “Against the king. Loyal to the legacy of Nebuchadnezzar the Second.”

  A shout rang through the woods, not far behind us. Instantly Daria’s friends scattered and disappeared into the underbrush, as if they’d never been there.

  “The guards,” Aly said. “They’re not too happy.”

  Daria took a deep breath. “You are with us now,” she said, linking arms with Marco and me. “We face the guards together.”

  Bel-Sharu-Usur knelt by the body of the mushushu.

  I don’t know what the rebels had done to its metabolism. Daria insisted to us, in English, that it was alive. That the rebels had given it some potion to slow its metabolism. Its chest was now still. It looked deader than dead.

  The king’s son stood. He swatted away the two wardum who were fanning him furiously. Muttering something to Daria, he turned toward his guards.

  “He says you are heroes,” Daria said. “He thinks you will be of great use to the kingdom.”

  “True on the first, epic fail on the second,” Marco said.

  Cass was fidgeting with his tunic. A pair of leathery eyes peered out of one of his pockets, along with a Snickers wrapper and a pack of chewing gum. “Sssssh, it’s okay,” Cass whispered. “Leonard is spooked by the smell of the mushushu.”

  “Maybe he thinks it’s a relative,” Aly said.

  “I thought you got rid of that candy and gum!” I said.

  “I kept a little . . .” Cass said sheepishly.

  As Bel-Sharu-Usur turned, Cass quickly pushed Leonard back into his pocket. I had no idea if the king’s son saw the lizard, or if he cared. He nodded toward Marco with a gesture that seemed vaguely admiring, and then he shouted a command to his guards.

  Daria’s face fell. She began pleading to Bel-Sharu-Usur, gesturing with urgency about something.

  Two guards unsheathed their swords. Before we could react, they plunged them into the flank of the mushushu.

  I stood helplessly, in shock. The creature oozed blood, its eyes flickering before shutting permanently. Daria raised a hand to her open mouth. Her eyes were wide with horror.

  Cass let out a groan. Marco, Aly, and I averted our eyes. “Oh, man . . . why did they do that?”

  “I guess . . .” I whispered, trying not to lose the morning’s breakfast, “. . . they had to be sure.”

  Daria was muttering something rhythmic, maybe a prayer. I thought about putting my arm around her, but she turned away. “I—I’m sorry,” I said.

  Through a mist of tears, Daria’s eyes were angry and resolute. “You will go to Mother’s Mountain, Jack,” she whispered. “I have left you the way to do it.”

  “You have?” I said.

  “Remember . . .” she replied, leaning close to me, “. . . when I came to see you . . .”

  I saw the whoosh of metal. Daria let out a cry and fell to the ground. One of Bel-Sharu-Usur’s guards stood over her impassively.

  “Hey!” Marco shouted, lunging for the goon.

  The man pointed his sword to Marco, stopping him cold. Cass, Aly, and I all knelt by Daria. She wasn’t bleeding. I quickly realized he must have smacked her with the hilt.

  Bel-Sharu-Usur stood over us, yammering.

  “Okay, Bobblehead, I’ve had enough of this,” Marco said, turning toward him with fists clenched.

  “No, Marco, you must not be so angry all the time!” Daria shouted, her face turned to the ground. “I was punished because wardum are not allowed to look upon the faces of the awilum—the nobles—without permission. Bel-Sharu-Usur believes you will become nobles. He knows he must convince Nabu-na’id first. But he believes the king will agree.”

  “I don’t care what he thinks,” Marco said.

  The guard was raising his sword again. Aly grabbed Marco’s arm and pulled him away. “Daria cares,” she said. “We go wherever he wants to take us. Silently. And we do not talk to Daria.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  IF ONLY . . .

  THE GUEST HOUSE was restocked with juices and food, but I wasn’t hungry or thirsty. As we moved along the rooftop, the moat crocodiles followed us with their eyes. But I didn’t care about them. All I could think about was Daria.

  The swoosh of metal. The agony on her face.

  Why didn’t you do something?

  If I’d had Marco’s speed, I could have swatted the sword aside. If I’d had Aly’s brains I might have figured out in advance that the guard would do that. I could have taken preventative measures.

  “Earth to Jack,” Aly said. “Your girlfriend is going to be all right. We need you. Escape plans are in order.”

  “She’s not my girlfriend,” I said.

  “That’s encouraging,” Aly said under her breath.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I snapped.

  “What do you mean, what’s that supposed to mean?” Aly looked at me curiously, then sighed. “Never mind, Jack. You are such a boy.”

  “Will you two knock it off?” Cass said, pacing back and forth along the rooftop. “Think. What do we do now? Wait here under lock and key until Prince Sadist reports to his dad and brings us our guard uniforms?”

  Marco drummed his fingers on the edge of the roof’s half-wall. “Actually it might not be so bad. As guards, we’ll have access to the Hanging Gardens.”

  “Be real, Marco!” Aly said. “The king will be keeping us close. He’ll probably want to train us. He’ll want us to prove we can do magic. To earn his trust. By the time we’re let off on our own, it’ll be the twenty-second century back home!”

  “Right,” Marco said. “Right. We have to do this fast. I could try to disable the guards downstairs—”

  “And if they stab you to death?” Aly said. “Maybe we can think of something else.”

  “We could drop three pots on their heads,” Cass suggested.

  “That’s the best you can do?” Aly said. “Jack, what do you think?”

  But my mind was still on Daria. “‘You will go to Mother’s Mountain,’ Daria said. She told me she left us the way to do it.”

  Cass, Marco, and Aly all turned in surprise. “Really?” Cass said. “What was it, a key? A secret password?”

  “I don’t know!” I said. “I don’t see anything left behind.”

  “Big help!” Aly threw up her arms.

  “I can focus if I eat,” Marco said, bolting toward the stairs. “I alwa
ys think better on a full stomach.”

  As Cass scampered after him, Aly’s shoulders slumped. We were alone now, and the room’s temperature seemed to drop a couple of degrees. “Sorry I snapped at you, Jack,” she said.

  “We’re all tense,” I replied.

  “I said some things I didn’t mean,” she said.

  I smiled. “I heard some things I didn’t understand.”

  “Yeah. Well.” She opened her mouth to continue but seemed to have second thoughts. With a tiny smile, she gestured toward the stairs. “Last one to the fruit bowl is a rotten egg.”

  Marco slurped green juice. Cass took tiny bites out of a dried date. Aly played with a bowl of yogurt but didn’t seem too interested. I had a plate full of fresh figs but had only managed to finish half of one. Marco kept swiping the rest, one by one, which was fine with me.

  The pottery on the wall was decorated with images of hunters and animals. On one of the vases, a stylized mushushu seemed to be growling at me.

  I reached over to the vase and turned it around so the mushushu faced the other way. Now a less-accusing bull faced outward. It looked vaguely familiar.

  I have left you the way to do it. Remember . . . when I came to see you . . .

  I jumped up.

  The vase. I had used it the night before. To tuck something out of sight.

  “Jack?” Aly said curiously.

  I reached into the mouth of the vase and pulled out the leather pouch I’d put there. Daria’s pouch. Gently I pulled it open and looked inside.

  Three green feathers peeked up at me.

  “These aren’t knitting needles . . .” I said.

  Cass, Aly, and Marco all looked at me as if I’d just grown fins. I held out the pouch so they could see inside.

  “She knew,” I said. “Somehow she figured we might need some emergency help.”

  My three best friends began to smile. “May I?” Aly asked.

  I handed her the pouch, and she carefully spilled out six tranquilizer darts onto the table.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  TO THE GARDEN

  WE CROUCHED AT the opening of the wardum hut. The sun was just sinking beyond the Ká-Dingir-rá, and I could hear soft, sweet singing inside. “Daria!” I hissed.

  The song stopped. Daria peeked out of the hanging cloth, her eyes wide. “Jack! What are you doing here?”

  “I just wanted to say thank you,” I said. “For the darts. The guards at our house are out for the count.”

  She nodded. Her eyes radiated fear even in the darkness. “I see. So now you will go to Mother’s Mountain. I am glad you came here first. I will go with you—”

  “No way!” I replied. “You’ll get into trouble. Just tell us the route.”

  “I will show you,” Daria said.

  “It’s okay, we can do it,” Cass chimed in. “I mean, you just leave the Ishtar Gate, circle around the temple, and walk to the edge of the first barley field, right? And then after about fifty-three yards you make a left after the last furrow, where there is this hut and some wood pilings. So if the hut contains some water vehicle, we take it across the river, after which we get out and walk, I don’t know, approximately an eighth of a mile to the outer gate of the gardens.”

  We all stared at him, dumbfounded. “What angle do we go across the water?” Marco asked.

  “Maybe sixty-three degrees, give or take,” Cass said, “depending on the current? Sorry I can’t be more exact. I should be. I saw all of this on our way back from the king’s forest. But some of it is pretty fuzzy.”

  “Dude,” Marco said, “what would you be like with a little confidence?”

  “Huh?” Cass said.

  Aly wrapped him in a hug. “You have not lost one bit of your powers, Cass. You just have to believe in them as much as we do.”

  Daria had backed away from us and returned with a sack around her shoulder and an armful of shawls. “Wear this clothing. Cover your heads. The king must not know you have gone. I will go with you to the Ishtar Gate. Pul, the child of Nitacris, is very sick. I must help her. We all help each other. My friends, Nico and Frada, will stay with the baby for now, but they have been with Nitacris all day. I will talk to the guards. They know that Pul is ill, and they are kind to wardum. I will tell them we are going to the temple of Marduk to pray for help.”

  “What if they ask us questions?” Aly asked.

  “I will talk for you,” Daria said. “Bab-Ilum is full of people from many places. It is not unusual for wardum to speak languages the guards do not know. I will say that I must return by myself, to sing Pul to sleep. But you will remain for proper prayers. They will understand this. But we will not stop at the temple. Together we will go to the river. You will continue. I will return.”

  We left right away, walking quickly from the wardum compound and across Ká-Dingir-rá to the Ishtar Gate. There, a group of guards were playing a game that involved rolling stones against the base of the blue brick wall. They barely looked up when Daria talked to them.

  We scurried through the Gate’s long, dark hallway, emerging in front of the temple. Cass and Daria led us to a path that veered around the building. We walked across a broad stretch of farmland, and before long I heard the racing waters of the Euphrates. Daria led us to a hut, where the boats had been stored. Within minutes we were carrying a flat-bottomed boat, and a wooden paddle, to the river.

  As we set it in the water, Daria’s hand shook. Her face was taut with concern. “There will be guards at the entrance,” she said. “The garden is very big. Mother’s Mountain is at the center. Nabu-na’id built a wall around it. He made an inner and outer garden, like the inner and outer city of Bab-Ilum—so now only the king can enter Mother’s Mountain. This inner garden is guarded by monsters, who came to Babylon from a foreign land. They are controlled by the garden keeper, Kranag.”

  “Do you know this guy?” I asked. “Can you get him to let us in?”

  Daria’s face darkened. “No one knows Kranag. Some say he is an evil god fallen to earth. He came to Bab-Ilum many years ago, around the time of Sippar, with a dark man who had a strange marking on his head. They brought many fierce animals. Great red bird-lions. Small beasts with white swords for teeth. Black birds with skin like bronze. Vizzeet, who kill with their spit.”

  “Massarym,” Aly whispered. “With creatures from Atlantis. That must be when he brought the Loculus here.”

  “Kranag does not see,” Daria said, “yet he is master of the animals. He can talk to the creatures, control them. People say he can become an animal himself. When Nabu-na’id built the wall around Mother’s Mountain, he enslaved Kranag there. With a job to protect and defend Mother’s Mountain.”

  “And all those animals—they’re in there now?” I said.

  Daria looked off into the distance. “Perhaps. You must be careful.”

  Aly shook her head. “Now you tell us about this stuff?”

  “It’s a game changer,” Cass squeaked. “Maybe we shouldn’t rush into it.”

  “Hey, it’ll be fun!” Marco declared.

  “How do you define fun?” Aly said.

  Daria reached out. She rested one hand on Marco’s arm, the other on mine. “I understand if you want to go back.”

  I looked up toward the Hanging Gardens and took a deep breath. I thought about the griffin and the Loculus. The marauding monks. Back then, if we’d been warned about the dangers in advance, we would have chickened out. But we were forced to go, and we did.

  Sometimes you just had to do it.

  “We’re rebels, like you, Daria,” I replied. “We’ve survived worse than this.”

  She smiled. From a sack outside her tunic, she drew out a long torch, a small bronze urn with a cork cap, a piece of flint, and a crude metal knife. Last, she gave Marco a blowpipe and set of darts. “The moon is full tonight. Let it guide you. I believe animals are in there, but I do not know how many animals. I hope they are sleeping. I hope you will find what you need quickly.
Most of all, I hope you do not see Kranag. If you do, retreat. He has no mercy, no feeling.”

  “Thanks, Dars,” Marco said. He gave her a hug, and she held tight. When she let go, I moved closer to hug her, too. But she turned and walked away, back toward Ká-Dingir-rá.

  One by one, we climbed into the boat. Marco and I dug paddles into the water. On the other side of the river, a light moved along the wall of the Hanging Gardens—a torch held by a guard who had not yet seen us.

  We moved slowly, silently. By moonlight I could only make out the outlines of my friends, inches away from me. Cass was holding his pet lizard, comforting it. I looked back toward the shore. Daria had blended in with the night’s blackness.

  But I could hear her singing.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  THE TORCH AND THE VIZZEET

  “THEY’RE GONE,” CASS whispered.

  Stomach down on the river bank, I watched a yellow torchlight wink into blackness. We’d been there for what seemed like an hour, observing two lights, two guards standing still in a long conversation. Now they were moving in opposite directions, checking around the perimeter of the gardens.

  “Move,” Marco said.

  We raced up the embankment and onto the road. In the gravel, our footsteps were impossible to keep silent.

  Once through the gate, the ground was covered with cedar chips, trampled to a soft firmness by foot traffic. We followed the arc of a pathway in the moonlight, which led to a thick flowering bush. As we dived behind it, we peered back toward the gate opening. My heart was beating so hard, I was afraid it could be heard clear to the Ishtar Gate.

  After a few minutes, a torch passed slowly from left to right and then disappeared.

  We moved farther inward. The path drew us to the inner wall, which loomed above us, smooth and impossibly high. To the left was an imposing gate, but this one was a thick wooden door, shut tight.

  Another torchlight passed in front of us and stopped. A low, guttural voice barked something in our direction. I thought about running but stayed still.

  Behind the guard, from over the wall, came an eerie hooting. Zoo-kulululu! Cack! Cack! Cack!