Jake Ransom and the Skull King's Shadow (16 page)

“Pindor…” Marika scolded.

“I just want to see what else it does. Like what do these bat trees do to our crystals?”

Before anyone could stop him, he turned to the box of crystals and stabbed the battery into the piles of shards. Jake tensed. Marika knocked Pindor’s arm away. But nothing happened.

Still, it gave Jake an idea. Maybe Pindor was on to something. Could his science and their alchemy be used together somehow? What if they were combined?

“Red and green make yellow,” he mumbled, remembering the demonstration by Marika’s father.

Jake took the battery from Pindor and bent down to pick up a sliver of blue crystal that had fallen to the floor.

Taking a step away, he tipped up on his toes and placed the battery and the blue crystal in the bronze basket.

“Jake,” Marika said. “We’re not supposed to touch that.”

Jake glanced over to her. Her words of warning had sounded unsure.

Pindor was less reluctant. “Nothing’s going to happen.”

Jake kept his gaze on Marika. If she said no, he would obey her. But her curiosity only seemed to grow. She was like her father in that regard.

“‘Alchemy is…nine parts chance,’” Jake said, quoting him.

Marika took a deep breath and crossed to the door. Jake feared she was leaving, but she only closed the door they’d left open. She turned to Jake and nodded.

With a smile, he reached and pulled the chain. The basket rose into the air.

Jake took a step back. Sunlight flashed and sparked as it refracted through the hundreds of crystals embedded in the gearwork overhead. At first nothing seemed to hap
pen—then the mechanism began to turn a little faster. It scattered sunlight into rainbows on the walls.

“Jake…” Marika warned.

And it began to spin even faster. Steam escaped tiny valves and began to whistle. Gears spun into blurs.

“We have to stop it!” Marika yelled.

“How?” Jake asked.

They all ducked down as the mechanism churned into a whirling mass of glass and bronze. It heaved and groaned and rumbled and sighed. There was no stopping it.

As the mechanism sped faster, the entire room began to shake. Tools and crystals rattled on the table. A stack of books toppled over. And still it spun even more furiously.

Jake backed to the table.
What have I done?

“Jake!” Marika cried out. She lifted up the second battery, still in her hand. Sparks shot out one end, snapped through the air, and were sucked into the churning mechanism.

Jake hurried to her side and grabbed the battery. It shocked him, stinging like a snapped rubber band. He tossed it to the tabletop, where it rolled and knocked into a chunk of red crystal the size of a goose egg. Sparks shot from the battery and struck the gem.

It immediately ignited, blazing like a crimson sun.

Before Jake could move, the red crystal melted straight through the tabletop. It wasn’t just as bright as the sun—it was as hot!

The crystal dropped through the bottom of the table and hit the stone floor. Jake sighed with relief—until the granite began to bubble at the edges of the crystal. It was trying to burn through the stone floor!

Jake pictured the crystal burning from one floor to the next. When would it stop? Would it stop?

Marika stood frozen in shock.

Jake rushed over and grabbed one of the silver hammers. If he could strike the crystal, turn it off like Marika’s father had done before…

He turned Marika. She nodded, immediately understanding his plan.

Together they dashed over and dropped to their knees. Jake shielded his face—against both the brightness and the heat. Through his squinted eyes, he saw the stone. It had shrunk to the size of a robin’s egg. It now floated in a pool of molten rock.

As Jake reached forward with the hammer, the crystal shrank faster and faster, as if consumed by its own inner fire, like a dying star collapsing in on itself. Jake paused. In a matter of two seconds, the crystal had burned down to the size of a piercingly bright pinhead. Then it blinked out of existence.

“It’s gone….” Marika said, and shifted back. Her expression was a mix of horror and curiosity.

The molten pool of granite quickly hardened, as if it knew its very nature was wrong and sought to quickly
reverse itself. Soon all that was left was a blackened spot on the floor.

The same couldn’t be said for the table.

On his knees, Jake stared at the underside of a perfectly round hole in the bronze tabletop. He could see straight through it. The metal was no longer hot, but the damage was done.

“Look!” Pindor said.

During all the commotion, they’d failed to notice that the mechanism over their heads had slowed. It no longer raced and whined. It merely spun. Jake stared up at the delicate mechanism. Did it sound extra creaky? Was it wheezing a bit more loudly? Had he wrecked it?

From its heart, the bronze basket slowly lowered out of the mechanism. All their eyes were upon it.

Pindor pointed to Jake. “It’s your sy-enz. You look!”

He was right.

Jake reached up and tipped the basket over and caught the battery in his palm. It looked unchanged—but there was nothing else! He searched the tray. The sliver of blue crystal was gone.

Jake glanced over to the smoky spot on the granite. Had the crystal vanished the same way? Had it been burned up by the mechanism, perhaps fueling its wild spinning?

Marika asked, “What happened?”

Jake could only shake his head. This was beyond him.

Marika’s brow crinkled. She picked up the other battery from the table and handed it over to Jake. Her expression
said she was sick with worry. She was done fooling with his science. Guilt shadowed her eyes and caused her to chew at her lower lip as she glanced back to the table.

Jake felt a stab of pain at her distress. It made his own guilt all that much worse. He remembered the words he’d said to her, quoting her father—that alchemy was nine parts chance. But he failed to take to heart what her father had said after that.
And more often than not, dangerous
.

Jake stared at the two batteries in his palm. He could’ve burned the entire tower to the ground. He gathered up his penlight, inserted the batteries, and screwed the top back on. Out of habit, he thumbed the switch. Light shone out. He clicked it back off. The penlight still worked. He shoved it into one of the pockets of his safari pants.

“What are we going to do?” Pindor asked. He stared at the melted hole. “The Magisters will hang us by our thumbs.”

“I’m sorry,” Jake said.

“You should be!” Pindor snapped back.

Marika frowned at them both, planting her hands on her hips. “You told him to do it, Pin. None of us said
Stop
. We’re
all
to blame.”

Pindor didn’t argue. His face merely sagged with the truth of her words. “And tomorrow’s the Equinox. And the Olympiad! Everyone’s going to be there! Once my father hears about all this, I’ll be lucky to see the sun before the
next
Equinox!”

“There’s no fixing this,” Marika said with a heavy sigh.
“But maybe we can hold off anyone finding out what happened.”

Pindor’s face brightened. “What do you mean? Your father’s up here all the time. He’ll see it.”

Marika crossed to a stack of books that had toppled over during the commotion. She picked up two books, stepped over to the ruined section of the table, and covered the hole with the books. She stacked one atop the other. “Get the rest,” she ordered.

Jake and Pindor quickly collected the books. The pile rose again to a teetering tower. Jake shared a grin with Pindor. The hole was now hidden, and the scorch mark under the table was easy to miss.

Marika inspected their work. “Papa leaves stacks like these all around and forgets about them.”

“So he might not find the hole for several moons!” Pindor said.

“No, he’ll find out sooner than that,” Marika said with a stern pinch of her brow.

“How?” Pindor asked.

“Because I will tell my father all about it. But I’ll wait until the morning after the Equinox.”

“Mari!”

“No, Pin. He must be told. Still, it’s no reason to ruin the celebrations. It was my father and mother’s favorite day. And now there’s only the two of us….” Her words died away, but she glared at Pindor. “I will not have the
Equinox ruined! But after the celebrations, I must tell Papa.”

The boy grumbled under his breath. It sounded like he was far from agreeing with her. In this instance, Jake sided with his Roman friend. If anyone found out what they did, Jake feared, his career as an alchemist’s apprentice would end.

“Well, at least I won’t miss the game,” Pin said.

The sun was already heading toward the horizon as they exited the Astromicon.

Pin glanced one more time through the door before Marika closed it. “No wonder someone tried to get rid of you,” he said to Jake. “Your sy-enz is nothing but trouble.”

“I didn’t know.” Jake looked over at Marika. “I wish I could do it all over again.”

“My father always says,
Look twice and step once, because down some roads, there’s no turning back.
” She pulled the latch on the door and sealed the Astromicon. They gathered the remains of their picnic lunch in silence, lost in private worries and regrets.

Look twice and step once…

Jake remembered pushing Kady’s half of the coin into the golden pyramid back at the British Museum. Even back then, he had leaped without looking and dragged Kady along with him.

Down some roads, there’s no turning back
.

Did the same hold true here?

Jake straightened with the picnic blanket folded in his arms. Beyond the castle walls, he spied the stone dragon stationed in the woods, guarding the great temple. Jake refused to believe that there wasn’t a way back home. Still, he felt the pressure of time like bands of steel squeezing his chest. Once the accident here was discovered, he would lose all hope of exploring the pyramid. He had one more day at best.

But that might just be enough.

Jake remembered Pindor’s pained concern about missing the Olympiad.
Everyone’s going to be there!
Jake’s eyes narrowed as he stared over at the pyramid. With the whole town looking toward the stadium, who would be watching the other side of town?

This might be his one and only chance. He had to sneak over there and discover what secret lay within the crystal heart of Kukulkan.

Still, Marika’s words echoed in his head.

Look twice and step once…

If he attempted this and failed, there would be no turning back. He would surely be imprisoned or banished. And what about Kady? She would likely share his fate.

“Are you ready?” Marika asked.

Jake nodded.

He’d better be ready.

As Jake climbed down the stairs the next morning, he spotted Marika and her father already in the common room. They moved like a well-oiled machine: placing bowls on the tables, testing a pitcher of hot chocolate with a finger, cutting a pink melon into slices. Balam whispered in Marika’s ear, drawing a silly grin. She giggled when her father found the chocolate too hot and sucked on his burned finger. They moved with the ease of years of love. It was an effortless and happy dance of the morning, shared by father and daughter.

Jake paused in the middle of the stairs, remembering similar mornings at Ravensgate Manor: of his mother helping Aunt Matilda fry eggs and bacon, of his father at the table in his socks and robe, buried in one of his journals. He remembered laughter and hugs and warm smiles.

“Looks like someone’s finally come to join us!”

Jake shook himself and reluctantly pushed aside the ghosts of his parents. He lifted an arm in greeting to Marika’s father and continued down the stairs.

During the night, Jake had put together a plan, plotting it all out in the dark. He steeled himself for the bit of acting necessary to put the first stage of his plan in action.

Jake limped off the last step and faked a pained wince and a gasp. He felt a real twinge at having to deceive Marika and her father, but he had no choice. He hobbled toward the table.

“What’s wrong?” Marika asked.

Jake leaned down and rubbed his right leg. “After sleeping, my leg’s cramped up. And…and…” He put a palm to his forehead. “And I don’t think I’m feeling all that well.”

Balam hurried to his side, tested his forehead, and urged Jake to sit down. “Let me see your leg. Stingtail venom is nothing to be taken lightly.”

Jake hiked up his pant leg. Balam examined the healing scratch on Jake’s calf. “No redness. No puffiness,” the old man said with relief. “Looks fine. The muscles must’ve been bruised by the venom and tightened up.”

Jake nodded. It sounded good to him—and fit his plan. He needed to be left behind when everyone headed over to the stadium for the big game. Once alone, he’d have his best chance of sneaking over to the temple.

“Maybe you’d better spend one more day here in the tower,” Balam said. “It’s a shame that you’ll miss the Olympiad.”

Jake forced his face into a mask of disappointment. “I’ll just lie down. Maybe by the evening I’ll feel well enough to go to the Equinox party.”

Marika touched her father’s arm. “Papa, I can stay with Jake. We can’t leave him alone. What if he needs something…or becomes sicker.”

Jake straightened in his seat. “No, I’ll be fine. Really. If you missed the Olympiad, I’d be crushed. I would feel so guilty.”

But her father’s eyebrows had knit with concern. Before he could answer, the narrow servant door opened. A small shape stepped into the room. It was Bach’uuk, balancing a large bowl in his arms.

“Ah, the porridge…” Balam said. “Just place it on the table, Bach’uuk. Thank you.”

Marika’s father kept his worried attention on Jake.

As Bach’uuk set the bowl on the table, Marika suddenly brightened. “What if Bach’uuk stayed with you, Jake? He wasn’t going to the game anyway. That way you won’t have to be crushed.”

Before Jake could respond, Marika said, “Bach’uuk, Jake is feeling a little weak. Would you mind watching over him until we return from the Olympiad?”

“I can do that,” Bach’uuk answered. He stared with a
focused intensity toward Jake.

Jake stood up. He certainly did not need someone guarding him, especially not the heavy-browed boy. Jake remembered his earlier suspicions about who might have left the stingtail in his room. Bach’uuk could have easily snuck into his room.

Marika’s father spoke. “And if there is any problem, Bach’uuk could run down to Magister Zahur’s cellars. The Magister will be staying in the tower to care for Huntress Livia.”

Jake’s stomach went cold. He felt his plan unraveling before him. Not only would he be watched over by the strange boy, but the only other person in the tower would be the one who had let the stingtail escape. What if there was another attempt on his life?

He quickly recalculated. Maybe he’d have a better chance if he went with them to the stadium. With all the people and chaos, he could lose the others and still sneak off alone to the temple of Kukulkan. Maybe he could salvage his plans after all.

Jake stretched his right leg and took a few steps around the room. “Maybe none of that’s necessary. Now that I’m up and moving around, my leg’s feeling much better.” He circled the table to prove it. “Maybe lying around is not such a good idea. I might be better if I were moving. Exercising it. And…and I’d hate to miss the game.”

“Are you sure?” Marika’s father asked doubtfully.

“It truly feels much better. It was just cramped up.”

Balam brightened. “We’ll leave early then. Go slow. But if you tire out or the cramping sets in again…”

Jake nodded vigorously. “I’ll let you know. I promise.”

“Then let’s finish our porridge, grab our flags, and be off to the game!”

Marika happily complied and dished out heaping bowls of warm porridge swimming with chunks of dried fruit and swirls of cinnamon and honey.

Forgotten by the others, but plainly understanding his presence was no longer necessary, Bach’uuk retreated by the servant door.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jake watched him. He read the boy’s expression. Disappointment…and a trace of anger.

Jake was glad when he left.

“Eat up!” Balam said cheerily. “We have an exciting day ahead of us!”

Beyond the gates of the castle wall, crowds filled the streets. Banners waved, people sang, and still others danced in small parades.

Marika pulled him aside as a gaggle of children ran past, pounding cymbals and tooting horns, chased by a Chinese dragon made out of silk carried by laughing adults. Jake recognized the young ones; he’d seen them practicing in front of their pagoda two days ago.

The farther they moved out, the more people pressed around them. Jake’s need to reach the pyramid weighed on him. He had to find the right moment to escape. But the crowd was so tightly packed.

And one other thing.

Marika had taken his hand in hers as soon as they passed through the castle gates. Plainly she feared losing him or that he might suddenly weaken again. She glanced over at him frequently. Her cheeks had a flushed excitement to them, while sunlight danced in her eyes. In her other hand she waved a crimson flag with a Mayan glyph on it.

Marika caught him staring. “It’s the flag for the Mayan team. We lost during one of the early rounds, but we have to show our pride.”

Magister Oswin puffed and wheezed behind them, forcing them to go slowly. “I should have stayed with Zahur,” the English monk complained to Balam. “If the huntress expires, I would like to attempt to collect one of the slivers of bloodstone.”

“We removed all we could see that first night,” Balam said softly. Jake had to slow down and slip closer to eavesdrop. “But she continued to fail. Whatever pieces remain are too small to pick out, and you’d only risk poisoning yourself if you should touch a sliver with your finger by mistake.”

Balam patted a heavy pouch that hung from his belt. “I have Zahur’s farspeaking crystal. If there are any problems, he will let us know. Until then, let’s not cast shadows on this bright day.”

“Fair enough.” Oswin pressed a wide hand on his ample belly. “And I’ve already skipped my porridge to leave room for the dinner at the palace of Tiberius. The Romans do know how to put on the grandest of feasts!”

“They have to
win
first,” Balam said with little hope in his voice. “The Sumerians defeated our team without losing a single point. They are fierce and determined to win the Eternal Torch for their tribe.”

By now, their group had reached the exit to the town, and the river of people bunched up even tighter. Still holding Marika’s hand, Jake was pulled by the riptide of the crowd flowing through the northern city gates.

From this vantage point, the enormous stadium definitely looked like a Roman coliseum. Plastered in white and painted in hues of gold, it shone blindingly bright in the midday sun.

Massive archways surrounded the stadium and housed
enormous stone giants. As he followed the crowd, Jake stared up at the statue of Zeus, who leaned on a lightning bolt. His shoulders seemed to be carrying the weight of the entire upper section of the stadium. Jake spotted another statue—Odin, the chief of the Norse gods. He guessed each of the Lost Tribes must have some symbol cast in stone here.

As they continued toward the stadium, someone called out to them.

“Hey! There you all are!”

Pindor waved and headed over. As he joined them, Marika finally slipped her hand out of Jake’s. He rubbed his hand on his jacket, relieved at being free, but also a little disappointed. Marika’s look said maybe she hadn’t just been holding his hand to keep from losing him in the crowd.

At this thought, Jake suddenly felt a little lighter in his steps, but his parents’ journals in his jacket reminded him of his duty. He could not lose focus. He had to get over to the temple today.

“We’d better hurry,” Pindor said, his face aglow with the thrill of it all.

Jake looked back to the city, then glanced at the crowds around him. Perhaps he could escape as they entered the stadium. The press of people would offer a good chance to slip off.

“Your sister, Katherine, is already inside,” Pindor said to
Jake, drawing back his attention.

Jake nodded. Maybe it would be best to wait until he spoke to Kady before he made his escape. She should know what he was going to attempt to do. Maybe she could even help.

Jake rolled his eyes at this last thought—yes, he had become
that
desperate.