“Just do it, Billy! We’ve got to get to the other side!”

  Billy stood there helplessly watching horses pass by, one by one. How am I supposed to do this?

  By this time, the soldiers noticed Billy and Rohan. They regrouped and began moving towards them.

  “Rohan!” Billy desperately called.

  “Hold on!”

  As the last horse came out of the stable’s gate, Rohan grabbed its mane, ran alongside it, jumped and pulled himself up. Then, he steered the horse towards Billy.

  “Raise your hands!” he shouted.

  As he got closer to the boy, Rohan leaned to the side and without slowing down, grabbed Billy’s hand and with one strong motion pulled him up onto the horse’s back behind him. Billy anxiously pressed his body to Rohan’s and locked his arms around his waist.

  The first horseback riding experience in Billy’s life was anything but smooth. His body was shaking up and down as if he were riding a bicycle downhill on a rocky road. Only this time he wasn’t sitting on a bike—underneath his little body was a big, strong living creature. Billy felt the horse’s muscles move as it ran. The feeling was both amazing and appalling.

  More torches appeared on the castle walls and on the ground, illuminating the night. Everywhere Billy looked he saw signs of devastation and confusion: blankets and weapons scattered all over, running people and horses, commanders shouting at soldiers in an attempt to get them organized . . .

  Suddenly, their horse veered sharply to the left. It happened so fast that Billy almost lost his grip. Rohan shouted and pulled the stallion’s mane, but that was useless—they kept on riding in the opposite direction. Billy looked back and saw what made the horse change course—the soldiers by the gate had finally regrouped and had built a human barrier with long rectangular shields put together and spears protruding in between. Rohan desperately tried to turn the horse around but it wouldn’t respond. The screaming people, darkness, dust, and spears made the young stallion panic, and now it was totally out of control.

  Rohan and Billy were about to lose their last hope when something extraordinary happened. Right in front of them from the corner of the nearest hut appeared a floating horse’s head. It was glowing with mysterious green light and was moving up and down like a boat on the waves. The head was moving towards Billy and Rohan. Their stallion stopped abruptly. Then it stood up on its hind legs, neighing frightfully and raising its front legs high in the air. Rohan had to lean closer to the horse’s back and strengthen his grip to prevent himself and Billy from falling. When the stallion’s front legs touched the sand, it started running again. This time it was moving in the right direction—straight to the castle gate.

  The floating head followed behind.

  * * *

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The Leap of Faith

  Within seconds their horse switched from canter to full gallop. Billy clutched Rohan’s back, preparing for the worst. To his surprise, however, the more speed they gained, the smoother the ride became. He could still feel the stallion’s muscles moving beneath him and a slight vibration when its legs were pushing forward. Nevertheless, this time the ride felt more like a flight—smooth and seamless. Billy’s fear gave way to excitement. The speed at which they were riding was incredible. He had never imagined a horse was capable of going so fast. The wind blew in his face, mussing up his hair and making his eyes water.

  But when Billy frantically wiped his eyes, he saw a picture that made his excitement vanish—not only was the human barrier still there, blocking the way to the gate, this time it stretched all the way across the square. There was no way to go around it.

  “Rohan!” Billy shouted, pointing.

  “I see it!” Rohan shouted back. “Hold on tight!”

  Rohan had no intention of slowing down. Even if he did try, the stallion wouldn’t follow the command. At full speed, they were getting closer and closer to the row of shields and spears.

  How are we going to pass? Billy thought. Then an ominous guess struck him. Oh no! He braced himself.

  Only a few feet before the human barrier, the stallion pushed hard with its hind legs and made a giant leap high into the air. It felt like time had stopped. As if in slow motion, Billy watched the expressions of awe on the soldiers’ faces as they turned their heads up and followed him and Rohan flying over them. All they could do was watch helplessly. When the stallion landed, it kept on running at full speed.

  “Yes!” shouted Billy. “We did it!”

  He looked behind and saw the human barrier falling apart as the glowing horse’s head floated through it.

  “We have to jump!” Rohan brought Billy back to reality.

  “What?” Billy shouted.

  “I cannot stop the horse! We have to jump!”

  It seemed like Billy’s luck had completely run out. It was one thing to ride a horse at full speed—it was another to jump from it.

  “I can’t!” Billy shouted.

  “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine!”

  They were riding now down the lane of huts—blacksmith, pottery, garment . . . When Rohan saw a pile of clothing near one of the huts ahead of them, he extended his right arm back to Billy and shouted, “Grab my arm!”

  Billy hesitated.

  “Just trust me, Billy!”

  Billy grabbed Rohan’s wrist with both hands. When they got closer to the garment hut, Rohan swung his hand and threw the boy on a pile of dusty robes. Billy landed on the soft fabrics and rolled over his head onto the sand. He stood up quickly and looked around. To his surprise, nobody attacked him. In all the chaos and disruption, his little stunt went unnoticed.

  Meanwhile, Rohan was getting closer to the hut with two barrels. He looked around, searching for the best landing spot. Two soldiers, running away from his uncontrolled horse, gave him an idea. He stood up with both feet on the stallion’s back, spread his arms and jumped onto the soldiers’ backs. Under Rohan’s weight, they fell to the sand. Rohan rolled over and promptly got back on his feet. Without wasting any time, he ran to the wooden barrels, which were now so close.

  When Billy fell, he lost sight of Rohan. People and horses blended together in one big mess. There was only one place where Rohan could be. Billy found the gate and the hut beside it and started running.

  Soon he heard somebody calling out.

  “Billy!” It was Rohan’s voice. “Billy, where are you?”

  Billy ran to the voice. A minute later, he saw Rohan, surrounded by the group of soldiers. He was swinging around a spear above his head, trying to keep soldiers away.

  “Over here!” Billy waved.

  “Get to the barrels!” shouted Rohan, parrying one of the soldiers’ attacks.

  Billy saw the barrels not far away and dashed toward them. Two soldiers noticed him and ran across. Billy darted into a narrow pass in between two huts. One of them had a wall of baskets stacked beside it. Billy tripped over one of them and fell.

  A doomed, dreadful thought flashed through his mind.

  He glanced back and saw the wall of baskets collapse, slowing down his chasers. Billy jumped onto his feet and kept on running.

  Finally, he made it to the first barrel. All he had to do was to flip the hourglass, and this whole nightmare would be over. He lifted the lid and looked inside—the barrel was empty. In frustration, Billy toppled the barrel on its side and rolled it toward the oncoming soldiers. He jumped to the other barrel and was about to open the lid when one of the soldiers reached out and grabbed his shoulder. The next moment the blunt end of a spear ripped across the soldier’s ribs. The soldier pulled back his hand and with a moan fell on his side. Rohan had come just in time.

  “Are you all right?” Rohan asked.

  “Yeah! Behind you!”

  Rohan glanced over his shoulder and without turning around made a powerful back kick. His heel went right into the middle of the soldier’s chest. The soldier’s body flew into the air with his feet above his head and landed on his b
ack with a heavy thud. The guard from the other side swung his sword at Rohan’s head. Rohan bent his knees and dove under the sword. As he straightened up, he grabbed his opponent’s arm, pulled it and at the same time drove his knee right into his ribs. Then he kicked his opponent’s elbow with the same knee. The guard moaned and dropped the sword. With a wide and swift motion, Rohan landed his right forearm onto the guard’s neck. The guard went down like a sack of potatoes.

  Billy just stood there with his eyes wide open, watching with astonishment as Rohan fought.

  Rohan turned to the barrel and lifted the lid. Another soldier yelled and lunged with a spear. Rohan used the lid as a shield to parry the attack. Then he spun and slashed with the edge of the lid across the soldier’s forehead, adding another body to the pile on the ground.

  “Billy, get close to me!” Rohan commanded.

  He reached to the bottom of the barrel and pulled out the hourglass. Billy jumped to Rohan and locked his arms with all his might around his body. Another soldier was on the move but Rohan’s strong uppercut sent him into a deep sleep.

  “Sorry buddy, no hitchhikers,” Rohan said with a grin.

  He turned the top plate and flipped the hourglass.

  Everything went dark and silent.

  * * *

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The Last Chapter

  “Hmmm, it smells delicious,” Billy’s dad picked up his spoon to eat. The steam from the bowl rose to the ceiling, filling the kitchen with the tasty smell of mama’s favorite chicken soup. “I’m telling you, you’re the best chef ever. If you ever open your own business it should be a restaurant.”

  “What do you know,” mused Billy’s mom, “maybe I will.”

  She put a basket of bread in the middle of the table.

  “Where is that boy?” asked Billy’s dad. Then he raised his voice to call him. “Billy, how long do we have to wait?”

  “Billy, your dinner is getting cold!” called Billy’s mom.

  “Mom, Dad, I’m coming!” shouted Billy. “I’m coming!” He rose on his elbows.

  A hand pressed on Billy’s shoulder, keeping him down. “Easy tiger,” said Rohan, and pulled up the blanket.

  Billy sat up and looked around. He had been lying on a bench. He couldn’t figure out where his parents had gone so quickly. “Where am I?” he asked in confusion.

  “We are in my lab,” Rohan answered.

  The place was very much similar to the one where Billy had found the hourglass. There were no windows. The room was aglow with the light of a few candles on the wooden shelves and a kerosene lamp over the table in the middle of the room. It was cleaner, though, and better organized.

  He wasn’t home, then.

  “I just saw my mom and dad,” Billy said with sadness.

  Rohan sighed. “Don’t worry, kid, you’ll see them soon.”

  “Why can’t I see them now? Why can’t I go home right now?”

  “Because now is too dangerous,” Rohan said. “Understand, there is no place or time safe enough for you. You’ve seen too much already.”

  “Even if I told, who is going to believe me?”

  “True. Still, we don’t know how far Khamunaph will go. He is a very ambitious man. I cannot risk your life.”

  Billy shook his head.

  “Stay with me,” Rohan said, “and bear with me for a little longer. It will all be over soon. I promise.”

  Billy sighed. Rohan patted him on the shoulder. Then he went to the table, back to his work. From the bench, Billy saw the hourglass standing on the table along with some instruments.

  “What time is it now?” Billy asked.

  “It’s about seven p.m.,” answered Rohan. “You were exhausted and I didn’t want to wake you up.”

  “Well, I meant which time is it?”

  “Ah, it is February 4, 1975. Not far from your time.”

  “You said seven p.m. Did I sleep for the whole day?”

  “Almost, but not exactly. We are in a different time zone now.”

  “What time zone?” Billy asked, still partly asleep.

  Rohan put his tools down and turned to Billy.

  “As you know, the world is divided into time zones. When, for instance, it is noon in America, somewhere on the opposite side of the globe, say in Mongolia, it is midnight, right?”

  “Yeah, so we are in Mongolia?” asked Billy, still confused.

  “No, Billy, we are not in Mongolia. We are in Haicheng, China.”

  “China? How did we get to China?”

  Rohan paused, looking for a better way to explain.

  “Okay, Billy,” he started, “imagine that you are in a fast moving train car. If you simply jump up, you will land at the same spot. However, if you could jump very high you would’ve landed slightly behind your original spot simply because all the time that you were in the air the train kept on moving forward. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Okay.”

  “Now, if you look at Earth from space, you’ll see a blue ball that constantly spins about its axis,” Rohan continued. “If you think of it as a moving train . . .”

  “Oh, I get it,” Billy cut in. “So, if you jump high enough, like into space, then when you return back to Earth it has already turned and you will land in a different spot, or country.”

  “Precisely, with only one difference—you don’t have to jump. It appears that some of the common laws of nature, as we know them, do not apply to the crystals. When the crystals are in motion, the holder of the hourglass for that period of time happens to be taken to a totally different dimension. The desired time and location can be adjusted by turning the dials, or the plates.”

  “I thought the plates were just a calendar,” Billy said. “How do you change the location?”

  “Thanks to the secondary function of the small dial,” Rohan answered. “When all three plates are leveled, it could be used as a watch with lines in increments of two, which means one line equals two hours. Well, not precisely, but pretty close.”

  “I see,” Billy said. “Does that mean the location could only be changed along the latitude?”

  “Bingo!” exclaimed Rohan. “Pretty good for a young boy.”

  “Geography is one of my favorites,” said Billy, pleased.

  “Of course,” Rohan added, “to be more precise, you’d have to take into account planetary pole tilting, but you don’t have to worry about it for now.”

  Billy sat quietly for some time, thinking. Then he remembered. “You know, when I was in the bowling alley, I turned the dials.”

  “You were lucky you didn’t change the time of day,” Rohan said. “Earth’s full rotation takes twenty-four hours. Should you give the small dial a half of a turn, which is twelve hours, you would’ve woken up on the opposite side of the globe.”

  “Oops.”

  “That’s not the worst case scenario yet. Should you have turned that dial only a quarter turn, you would’ve ended up somewhere in the ocean.”

  “Ouch.”

  “We don’t want any ‘oops’ or ‘ouch,’ do we? Therefore, we should both agree that I will be in charge of the hourglass. Deal?”

  “Deal.” Billy nodded, frowning. He wished he could play more with his toy, but Rohan had a point.

  Billy slipped into his sandals and walked to the table. In the shimmering light of the kerosene lamp, there was the hourglass, stripped down to its parts, and a bunch of tools. Over a piece of yellow linen in front of him, Rohan held a round stone plate with a number of small channels carved on it. Billy recognized the fabric.

  “Hey, isn’t that the package you took from underneath the throne?”

  “You are very observant, Billy Somers.”

  “I thought it was some kind of treasure, not just a piece of rock.”

  “For your information, young man, this piece of rock is of great importance,” said Rohan. “In fact, this plate is the main purpose of our little adventure”.

  “I thought that the main p
urpose was to find the High Priest and talk to him.”

  “Do you play chess, Billy?”

  The question caught Billy off guard.

  “Well, yeah,” he muttered.

  “In chess you don’t make one move and then think of a next one. You plan three or five moves ahead. And not only your own moves but also your opponent’s possible response. This way it will be difficult for him to set a trap for you.”

  “I don’t like chess,” Billy admitted.

  “Why?” Rohan raised his eyebrows.

  “Sometimes I play with my dad, but he always wins.”

  “Oh, I see.” Rohan exhaled. “You have to understand one thing: in chess winning is not everything.”

  “What? What is it then?”

  “Thinking,” answered Rohan. “Every time you play, regardless of whether you win or lose, you learn to think. That is the main purpose of this game.”

  “What’s the fun playing, if you know you are going to lose?”

  “Don’t worry, Billy. When your thinking improves, victory will come.”

  Easy for you to say, Billy wanted to say, but instead he pointed at the round plate.

  “So what is it, anyway?”

  “It’s a time synchronizer,” Rohan said.

  “Oh, I remember you mentioned it before.”

  “That’s right. Each hourglass has a time synchronizer, which enables its owner to travel between certain chapters.”

  “It’s just a piece of rock. How does it do it?” asked Billy.

  “Adjustable air pressure,” answered Rohan.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Inside the hourglass the air is compressed. When activated, it travels through one of these tiny channels”—Rohan pointed at the network of channels, engraved on the back of the plate—making the crystals move with a specific speed and pattern. That’s why you never see the crystals falling down in a single stream. Each channel is unique and corresponds to a certain chapter.”

  “And when you don’t touch the plates and simply flip the hourglass . . .”

  “It only freezes time, or withdraws you from reality, until the last crystal falls, depending on how you look at it.”

  “Now I see,” said Billy slowly. “So, what are you doing with this plate and what makes it so special?”

  “This plate, my friend, is one of a kind. It will take us to the chapter that is off limits for any Librarian.”

 
Alexander Kleschelsky's Novels