The Legend of the Rift

  Around me, everyone seemed to be deflating. “Is this all there is to the Loculus?” Aliyah said angrily.

  “I—I guess so,” I said. “Maybe if we wait?”

  “Is that your plan, for it to magically repair itself?” Aliyah demanded.

  “We have plaster,” Manolo suggested.

  Aliyah spun on him and he shrank back among the other guards.

  “Correct me if I’m wrong,” Aliyah said. “A Loculus full of holes is not a real Loculus. And without even one Loculus, there no chance of success. Now, remind me of why we agreed to work together?”

  “He did the best he could!” Eloise protested.

  As I walked closer to the Loculus, I heard sounds of a scuffle outside—muffled shouts and rustlings of leaves. I glanced out the window. Brother Asclepius, with a hypodermic needle in his hand, was scrabbling backward. Grunting like a caged animal, Torquin stomped toward him across the scrubby soil. “Torquin!” I shouted. “Stop that!”

  “I—I’ll be okay,” Brother Asclepius shouted, not too convincingly.

  “I’m getting a migraine,” Aliyah said. “Guards, get that oaf!”

  The room emptied. Marco was the first one out, then the guards, Eloise and Cass last. I turned to follow them, but something kept me in the room. It began as a soft buzz, like an insect had crawled inside me through the ear. The sound grew, slowly, droning and changing pitch.

  I knew I had to help Torquin. But as irritating as the sound was, I couldn’t stop listening. I glanced outside the window. The Massa guards had put themselves between Torquin and Brother Asclepius. But Torquin was on his knees now, head in hands, muttering.

  I didn’t know what he was doing, or what was going on in that head, but at least there was no fighting. And that was good.

  The sound was drawing me to the broken Loculus. Like a distant orchestra of players bowing on damaged violins, on tin cans and barbed wire. I had heard this before—in the center of the volcano, near the remains of the Seven Wonders, and every time we got near a Loculus. It had a different tune every time, but it was always the Song of the Heptakiklos.

  The Loculus began pulsating. The hole’s ragged edges were smoothing out, growing inward, closing the gap.

  Running to the window, I shouted: “Get up here—now. Something’s happening!”

  Aliyah immediately shouted to the guards, and they came running. So did Marco, Cass, Eloise, and Torquin.

  I backed into the room. The Loculus began to rock back and forth. It lifted from the ground, spinning in place. The two holes, not much smaller than before, spat beacons of blue-white light around the room like lasers.

  “Jack?” came Cass’s voice from the door.

  He was behind me. They were all behind me now.

  “What the—?” Aliyah whispered.

  Aliyah’s goons closed ranks in front of her, forcing her to the door for protection. But they didn’t get far before a thunderous boom threw us all backward.

  My feet left the ground and my vision went white. For a moment I was aware of floating through the room, blinded by the light. Then my back smashed against the wall so hard that it knocked the wind out of me.

  I collapsed to the floor, catching my breath. As my sight returned, I tried to sit upright but the pain in my lower back was intense. So I eased myself upward slowly, trying not to groan. Cass was helping his sister off the floor and Aliyah was cursing at her guards, who had fallen on top of her. Brother Asclepius was scrambling to his feet, and I could hear Torquin’s heavy breathing somewhere.

  But at the moment all I cared about was in the center of the room. The broken sphere was now a softly glowing orb, its dirt color now a sapphire blue. Waves of turquoise and indigo flowed like oceans inside, washing against the smooth, perfect surface. It was exactly as I remembered this Loculus of Healing, before I’d thrown it under the train.

  “Welcome back,” I whispered.

  Aliyah’s guards were now trying to help her to her feet. She stood, gawping like everyone else at the bright sphere. As I rose, I realized how hard I’d fallen. I felt like someone had clamped a vise to the base of my spine. I tried to walk normally to the Loculus but instead I hobbled like an old man.

  “I don’t remember it looking so cool,” Marco said.

  “Everything gets a little grimy in New York,” Cass replied. “The question is, does it work?”

  Reaching out, I placed my hand on the surface. Where my palm made contact, the swirls inside the Loculus began to gather. They formed a kind of cloudy image of my hand, neither gas nor liquid but somewhere in between. The blob swelled and darkened until it finally turned to black. Then, with a barely audible pop, it detached from the surface and shot into the center of the Loculus like a comet. I pulled my hand back and watched as the black blob was absorbed into the blue swirl, like a drop of ink into the ocean.

  Whatever had been clenching my back released. I straightened out slowly. No pain. I moved left and right. I did a couple of dance moves.

  “Well, that’s awkward,” Eloise said.

  “Did you see what just happened?” I said.

  “The Loculus of Healing made you dance?” she replied.

  They couldn’t tell I was hurt. Or they’d been too busy looking at the Loculus to notice. But I could see a flash of recognition in Torquin’s red, squinty eyes.

  He was sweating badly. He had been looking worse and worse since he’d arrived back on the island. The burn marks on his arms looked like a botched tattoo job done by an angry orangutan, and his scalp was red from where his hair had been burned off.

  I touched the Loculus again and reached out to Torquin with my other hand. “Torquin, let’s get you back to normal—or as normal as a Torquin can be. . . .”

  He shuffled toward me, raising his charred right arm. I placed my free hand on it and felt a kind of electric twang where my fingers touched. The feeling pulsed up my arm, across my chest, and clear through to my opposite palm, still placed against the Loculus. There, just inside the membrane, the dark patch began to form again—and again, it disappeared into the orb. Torquin shuddered briefly.

  The black mark on Torquin’s arm, nearest my fingers, was the first to vanish. Then the bruise directly above it. Like the movement of the sun, the healing spread up to his head and down the left side of his body. Angry, injured skin became thick and healthy. On his arms, legs, and head, the singed black clumps of hair fell to the floor. In their place came a growing crop of new hair, furry on the arms and legs and thick as ever on his head and cheeks—with one difference.

  Although his hair was the old Torquinian red, his beard was now completely white.

  Eloise smiled wanly. “Wow. You look almost not scary.”

  Torquin’s face twisted into a strange grimace that I recognized as his smile. “Torquin feels fine.”

  “And that is why they call it a Loculus of Healing,” I said.

  “YEEAHHH!” Marco hooted, punching a fist in the air. “The Select, back in business! Once more with three Loculi! All hail King Jack!”

  “No, don’t call me that!” I exclaimed, but Marco scooped me up by the thighs and lifted me in the air.

  “How about Jack the gnizama!” Cass shouted.

  “Or maybe Spencer,” Eloise said. “I always liked that name.”

  Marco set me down and I threw an arm around Eloise in a fake wrestling move until she giggled and pulled away—straight into the arms of a very stern-looking Aliyah.

  “Well. That was a very impressive job. This is, as they say, a game changer.” She nodded appreciatively, then turned, signaling for us to follow. “But we must move on. Manolo, will you please take the Loculus?”

  As Manolo approached the glowing orb, Torquin stood in front. “No take.”

  Marco stepped between them. “Let me translate for old, um . . . White Beard. He means, ‘Sorry, dude, but we’re partners now, so let’s all talk before you boss this crew around.’”

  “Ah, of course, Manolo; they have leg
itimate concerns,” Aliyah said. “So. We could have a little conference, with a celebratory cup of tea and some sensitivity training, and perhaps Manolo would play ‘Kumbaya’ on the lute. But this would take some time, and I am of the opinion that we move now, go back to the rift, and retrieve the Loculus your friend took with her.”

  “Now you’re talking,” Marco said.

  “But before we rush willy-nilly into disaster, we must seal our bargain,” Aliyah said. “Jack, you will follow your end of the deal and arrange to bring the rebel leaders to me. We have no time to waste. Can you do this in an hour?”

  “An hour?” I said. “To broker a deal between the Karai and the Massa. That’s crazy!”

  Aliyah sighed with exasperation. “All right. Ninety minutes.”

  I turned to Cass, Eloise, and Torquin.

  Then finally to Marco.

  “Tell me, Marco,” I said pleadingly, “that you know how to whistle.”

  “I can!” Eloise announced.

  She stuck two fingers in her mouth and let out a blast that felt like an ice pick through my eardrum.

  “Come with me,” I said.

  We raced downstairs and outside. Night had fallen, leaving only the light of the hospital windows to guide us across the scrubby patch of grass to the jungle.

  “Okay, wait till I have my hands on my ears,” I said, “and whistle ‘Happy Birthday.’”

  I pressed my hands as tight as I could. It didn’t help. Eloise’s whistle was like a police siren. It had the basic rhythm of ‘Happy Birthday,’ but the tune was pretty much unrecognizable.

  Still, I was sure Nirvana would figure it out.

  Our answer was a chorus of pained screeches from the birds and monkeys. After a minute or two Eloise tried again.

  Behind us the hospital door creaked open. Aliyah was leading her guards toward us quietly, along with Cass and Marco. “What are they all doing here?” Eloise said. “They’ll scare the rebels away.”

  “Aliyah, can you and the guards wait upstairs?” I called out.

  Manolo had his hand on his gun. “Just want to protect you,” he said. “From monkeys.”

  “Wait a minute,” Marco said. “If you guys think we’re idiots, if you think we’re going to call the rebels so you can ambush them, think again.”

  “Marco, keep in mind who you are speaking to,” Aliyah said.

  “When Number One gives her word,” Manolo said, “it is as good as—”

  His eyes went wide in midsentence and his mouth let out a choked little cry. As he fell to his knees, I could see a small, feathered dart in his neck.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  BLOOD OATH

  “STOP!” I YELLED. “Don’t—”

  I felt the barrel of a gun against my neck. Another of Aliyah’s guards pulled me to the ground, growling into my ear, “Move one strand of hair, and you are toe—”

  I think he meant to say toast, but he choked on the word. His hand loosened and he fell away, gagging and convulsing, pawing at an arrow in his neck.

  As I sprawled to the ground, Marco pulled Cass and Eloise down, too. Darts flew overhead like a cloud of insects in the growing darkness.

  A bullet cracked loudly through the air, then another. Aliyah’s goons were dropping to the ground, shooting blindly into the jungle. Each shot was followed by a volley of darts coming from the jungle’s darkness. One by one the guards fell away, unconscious. I could hear voices in the trees now, distant footsteps.

  Creeping slowly on the ground, Aliyah reached Manolo’s side and grabbed his gun. Taking aim at a movement among the trees, she squeezed the trigger.

  A shot rang out, followed by a loud shout of pain. A tall figure in a robe fell from the shadows, sprawling out onto the ground before us.

  Aliyah dropped the gun. “Brother Dimitrios?”

  As she raced toward him, more darts flew overhead. One of them lodged in her hair, barely missing her. “STOP SHOOTING!” I screamed. “WE’RE OKAY!”

  From the blackness, Nirvana stepped into the dim light. She held up her right hand, in a signal to the rebels who must have been behind her. “Well, hooo-ee, this is a fine mess,” she muttered, surveying Brother Dimitrios and the unconscious goons. Then, looking over her shoulder, she called out, “Enemy disarmed! Reclamation team, come forward! Bones, our special guest Dimitrios is down!”

  Immediately three wiry-looking rebels ran out of the jungle. They went from one of Aliyah’s unconscious guards to the next, scooping up weapons. Dr. Bones, the Karai physician, joined Aliyah and began gently examining Dimitrios. He’d been hit in the leg, and blood pooled below him. A moment later, Brother Asclepius raced out from the hospital with gauze, bandages, and some jars that looked like antiseptic.

  “I’ll get the Loculus of Healing,” Marco said softly to Asclepius. “Ninety-nine percent more effective than ordinary Band-Aids. And no harmful side effects.”

  As Marco ran inside, the two doctors helped Dimitrios to a soft spot on the grass behind us.

  “You used Dimitrios as a shield,” Aliyah growled, glancing up at Nirvana. “A helpless old man.”

  “Actually, I’m not that . . . old,” Brother Dimitrios said through a pained grimace.

  “Not to put too fine a point on it,” Nirvana said, “but your guys shot him.”

  “Self-defense, dear girl,” Aliyah replied.

  “Listen, you two,” I said, “let’s not argue—”

  “That’s how you guys operate, bullets for tranquilizer darts?” Nirvana blurted angrily. “We rescued this dude. He and his buddies were just asking to be vromaski snacks. They’re all tromping through the jungle like the Seven Dwarfs, heigh-ho, heigh-ho, trying to bring you a present.”

  Now a whole team of rebels was emerging from the trees—along with a few robed Massa officials. The rebels were much skinnier and more raggedy, but the Massa looked like they’d just been to war—leaning on walking sticks, bleeding, and wearing bandages fashioned from tree bark. Two of them brought forward a massive wooden chest. Its hinges were rusted, its sides pimpled with barnacles. Seaweed hung wet and limp from every surface, and a huge padlock dangled from a broken hasp.

  Aliyah rose, staring at the chest. “What on earth is this, Dimitrios?”

  “It belonged to . . . Enigma,” Brother Dimitrios called back. “As you ordered . . . before you left, Your Leadership. It was quite an operation, I must say. Believe it or not, one of our men nearly was bitten by a shark that had got stuck on board when the water receded.”

  “Shark?” Cass said, inching forward with his sister.

  “Cool,” Eloise added.

  “I was not speaking to you, children,” Dimitrios snapped.

  Marco was racing out of the building with the Loculus of Healing. In a moment Dimitrios would be fine, but I can’t lie. Part of me wanted him to suffer just a little bit longer.

  “I ordered an exploratory committee,” Aliyah said sharply. “I wanted a report, not a dangerous trip through the woods with an old chest.” She glanced at a six-foot-tall woman with a chiseled face and short black hair. “Hannelore, you were supposed to head the committee. Have you no sense?”

  “Begging your pardon, but this discovery was too urgent, Your Leadership,” Hannelore replied. “Please, take a look.”

  As Aliyah reached for the chest, Nirvana stomped a black-booted foot down on the top of it. “Not so fast, Dora the Explorer. We have some business to take care of. You owe us.”

  Aliyah stood. “Yes, yes, Jack and I have been discussing this, and—”

  “We could have taken this chest, no sweat, Numero Uno—and we could have let your minions be critter food,” Nirvana barreled on, to a chorus of agreement from the rebels. “Now, our people are starving and dying. Which is bad for you, because we have survival skills in this jungle that you all could use. And in case you haven’t taken a look down at your Sleeping Uglies, we have techniques that will disarm the worst of you. So listen closely because I have a proposition—”


  “Oh dear, yes, accepted,” Aliyah said with a weary sigh. “Now open the—”

  I was trying to signal Nirvana to stop but she was getting all heated up. “Think hard before you say no to me, boss lady, because we can make your lives supermiserab— Wait. Did you say accepted? I didn’t even tell you what we wanted.”

  “Whatever it is, yes,” Aliyah said. “Food, shelter, medicine—and might I suggest from your general atmosphere, baths. We agree to work with you. With Jack and Marco and Cass and Torquin, too. We shall cease to waste energy fighting, and instead combine forces until we find the Loculi.”

  Nirvana’s face was all twisted up into an expression that was part duh, part I don’t believe this, and part did I die and go to heaven?

  I nodded. “She means it.”

  “But they want . . .” Nirvana pointed to the goons. “And we want . . .” Nirvana pointed to the rebels.

  “I know we have differences both operational and philosophical,” Aliyah said, “but the seismic irregularities brought on by the abrogation of the time-space rift indicate the absolute necessity of our utilizing our mutual synergies to avoid cataclysm, and in my belief it is advisable to shelve the discussion of the ultimate fate of the Loculi until stability is achieved.”

  “In English, please,” Torquin grumbled.

  “I think she’s saying that we’re dead unless we work together,” I whispered, “and we’ll worry about what to do with the Loculi after we get them.”

  Behind Nirvana, the rebels were wide-eyed and confused, chatting and arguing. Nirvana slowly removed her boot from the chest and held up her hand. As the rebels shushed each other, she went face-to-face with Aliyah. “Blood oath?”

  Nirvana whipped out a knife from the pocket of her ripped jeans. She slashed a small cut in the back of her hand, then held out the knife to Aliyah.

  “I beg your pardon?” Aliyah said with utter disbelief, as if Nirvana had just asked her to transform into a salamander.

  But Nirvana stood firm. And now all the rebels were staring. As well as the Massa captives. And a couple of Aliyah’s guards, who were just beginning to come to.