Jake Ransom and the Skull King's Shadow (23 page)

The key to all these mysteries was one word.

Time.

And Jake knew one thing for certain.

They were running out of it.

Spray soaked Jake to the skin.

Bach’uuk led them behind the waterfall along a thin ledge of rock. He kept a hand on Jake’s wrist. Jake, in turn, grasped Marika, who grabbed Pindor. Any misstep and they’d all go tumbling to the sharp rocks below.

But that wasn’t the only danger.

Though the falls filled the world with their rumble, beyond them the jungle croaked, roared, bellowed, hissed, buzzed, and screeched.

At last they reached the edge of the waterfall, and the ledge widened underfoot. Pindor shook his hair like a wet dog. They all caught their breath for a moment.

The full moon had risen high as midnight drew near. Scents of night-blooming flowers and dark rich loam mingled with the sweet rot of the ancient forest. Here was a primeval world where nature first practiced with seed and leaf, with tooth and claw, with root and vine.
It was a riot of new life.

Jake stared out, still reeling from what the temple had taught him. He now had a name for this world.

Pangaea.

At this moment, Jake understood why the Neanderthal tribe chose to live on this side of the ridge. There was great beauty here, savage yet wondrous.

Bach’uuk got them moving again toward a steep-walled cove, pocked with caves high up the walls like windows on a skyscraper. Some openings were dark, while others glowed with firelight—real firelight, not glowing crystals, shimmering, flickering, dancing flames.

Jake counted in his head. There were well over a hundred caves, maybe twice that. This wasn’t some little Ur village, but more like a thriving metropolis.

“I never imagined…” Marika said.

“It’s so big!” Pindor exclaimed.

Jake heard the hope in Pindor’s voice. If the tribe could be convinced to come to the town’s defense, there might be some chance of driving off the Skull King’s forces.

Bach’uuk pretended not to hear their words or the awe behind them. But he did walk a bit taller.

Crude ladders connected the various dwelling levels, while vine ropes draped between them, holding baskets, buckets, and hooks. It was like a city turned on its side, where traffic didn’t flow east and west, but up and down. Still, it was clear the Neanderthals respected the jungle’s
dangers. The lowermost caves were high above the ground and rows of sharpened logs poked outward like thorns.

A tall shaggy figure dressed in sewn leather garments stepped out of the first cave and spoke to Bach’uuk in the Ur tongue. His expression was not welcoming. Bach’uuk pointed to their group and answered. A short argument followed, but eventually the tall man grimaced and walked back inside.

Bach’uuk returned. “Kopat will gather our Elders. They know of the attack, but the Ur do not make rash decisions.”

“What’s there to decide?” Pindor asked. “The Skull King will bring this war to your caves once he’s finished with Calypsos.”

Bach’uuk shrugged.

With no choice but to wait, Jake’s mind pushed aside the mysteries of the day and turned to a more immediate worry. Kady. He had no idea where his sister was or how she was doing. He began to conjure up horrible scenarios, and his breathing grew heavier with his fear for her.

Before he descended into full panic, the large man returned. This time he spoke in All-World. “Come. The Elders will listen.” His expression was no more inviting, but he turned and led them all inside.

Bach’uuk lifted up an arm and barred Pindor from stepping across the threshold. “As an outsider, you may not carry a weapon in the Elders’ presence.” He held out
a palm for the grakyl sword.

Pindor’s shoulders slumped, but he passed the blade over.

With the sword in hand, Bach’uuk led the way inside. Jake quickly became lost in the maze. Along the way, he spotted more of the Ur. Most shied away but curiosity kept them close by.

Suddenly the tunnel opened into a natural cavern. A small pool of water lay in the middle, reflecting the flames from a small fire. The firelight also glowed over the walls. A vast landscape had been painted, showing a wild jungle where giant saurians lumbered and all manner of beasts roamed, flew, slithered, and crawled. In the flicker of the flames, the animals seemed to caper and dance.

Marika passed along the wall with her neck craned. Her eyes shone with wonder.

From a tunnel behind the fire, three shapes emerged from the shadows and into the light. Their backs were bent with arthritis, and their hair had gone white with age. They hobbled on thick staffs, which had been decorated with glowing crystals and polished bronze bangles. The bangles reflected the firelight and caused the painted animals on the wall to dance even more.

Their eyes seemed nearly blind, only able to see light and dark. They sank heavily to the rock floor near the flames. These were not just
Elders
, but more like
ancients
.

The one in the center spoke in native Ur to Bach’uuk,
who bowed his head and answered. Three pairs of eyes swung to stare at Jake. Their gazes weighed down upon him. Jake had never felt such intensity—it was almost as if they were trying to peer into his mind.

“Why do you come to us?” the middle Elder asked.

Jake swallowed. “We come to see if you will join in the battle against the Skull King.”

Those eyes merely stared.

“Calypsos will fall without additional aid,” Jake pressed.

“All things come to an end,” the Elder to the left whispered hoarsely.

“All life exists only in the short time,” the Elder to the right added. “Marked by the beating of the heart.”

The center Elder finished what sounded like an ancient proverb. “Only one heart marks time in the long count.” He lifted his ancient hand and formed a triangle with his bony fingers.

He must be referring to the pyramid and the crystal heart that pulsed in the center of it.

The Elder lowered his hands. “And only the temple will be here when we are all gone. So it is spoken from the time when the Ur first came to this land and walked into its great shadow. Nothing else matters.”

Jake recalled Marika’s story about how the first of the Lost Tribes discovered these people already here. The Neanderthals must have also been snatched from their homeland—and time—and brought here. But how long
had the Ur settled here before the other tribes arrived?

“So you won’t help us?” Pindor snapped off angrily.

There was no hesitation. No apology. Not even regret. Just a swift “No.”

“But you must,” Marika pleaded.

“That is not our way,” the center Elder intoned, echoing the same words Bach’uuk had used before. “We are not Calypsos. Such a struggle in the short time is of no concern to the Ur. We serve only the temple as it marks the long count.”

Jake understood. The temple had protected the Ur when they first came here, and reverence for it had been deeply instilled.

“What will come will come,” the Elder finished with a note of finality. “But the temple will always be.”

Plainly the town of Calypsos could expect no help from the village. The Ur were set in their ways.

Then again, maybe not
all
the Ur.

Bach’uuk stood straighter. “This is wrong.”

The Elders turned to him slowly, clearly showing surprise.

Bach’uuk continued, “I have seen much this past day. Flesh turned to ice. Men who walk in shadows. Monsters who carry swords.” Bach’uuk hefted the weapon they’d taken from the graykl lord. “And I’ve seen the heart of the temple darkened with poison.”

At these last words, the centermost Elder waved for Bach’uuk to bring the sword closer.

The others seemed less impressed. “The pyramid will always be,” one intoned, and the other nodded.

The Elder in the middle examined the sword after Bach’uuk carried it to him. From the Elders’ reactions, Jake suspected Bach’uuk might be arguing along the right track, warning of a threat to the temple.

His eyes were drawn to the sword. As Bach’uuk turned it in the firelight, he revealed a symbol melted into the hilt. Earlier, Jake had caught a glimpse of the sword’s mark as he’d passed the weapon to Pindor, but he’d forgotten all about it in the excitement that followed. The symbol glowed in the flames. Stunned, Jake recognized it. He’d seen the symbol before, back in his other life. It had been stamped on the bottom of Jake’s invitation to attend the show at the British Museum. It had been sculpted into a steel tie tack worn by Morgan Drummond, their bodyguard in London.

Jake struggled to comprehend what he was seeing.

It was plainly a griffin—the mythological beast with the head, wings, and claws of an eagle and the body, hind legs, and tail of a lion. But it was also the corporate symbol for Bledsworth Sundries and Industries, Inc.

What is it doing here?

Jake moved closer to the fire to examine the mark. Bach’uuk noted his interest, and Jake pointed to the hilt.

The Elder narrowed his eyes. “A mark of corruption. It is a monster made from the parts of many beasts.”

“It is also the mark of the Skull King,” Bach’uuk said.

Jake remembered Marika’s story, how Kalverum Rex used the bloodstone to corrupt and taint animals into foul creations. One only had to look at a grakyl to see the result of his evil alchemy. Even the griffin symbol looked a bit like a grakyl.

Jake’s mind churned as Bach’uuk continued speaking in low tones to the Elder. What was the connection here? With every new discovery, the mystery deepened. Jake’s hand drifted to his pocket and clutched his father’s watch. Threads between the modern world and Pangaea were weaving tighter with every new discovery.

But what did it all mean?

Jake stared at the griffin. Though he couldn’t prove it, he knew something more was afoot here in Pangaea, something connected to the Bledsworth corporation.

Across the fire, Bach’uuk had become more animated, pleading his cause using the Ur native tongue. Jake didn’t understand, but he heard the word
science
mentioned. Bach’uuk pantomimed using a flashlight, relating the story of its freezing beam.

All three Elders scrunched their heavy gray brows.

Bach’uuk suddenly pleaded in All-World. “We Ur shared our valley, offered its protection to the other tribes, like a mother to a child. Yet now we will sit in our homes and let them die. That is not right. A mother does not abandon a child.”

The Elder in the middle shook his head. For the first time, there was true regret in his voice. “Lives are short. Do not fear. Fear exists only in the short time.”

Jake stepped forward, sensing Bach’uuk needed support. Searching for a way to prove his friend’s argument, Jake showed them his penlight and firmly stated what he was growing to believe. “This object comes from beyond any
short
time,” Jake warned. “It comes from a
long
time.”
A very, very long time
, Jake added silently.
Two hundred million years in the future, to be exact.
“And I believe the new danger to the temple may stretch from that same long time.”

The Elders stared at the penlight, not so much fearfully but with curiosity. Jake needed to convince them of the danger. He screwed off the top of the penlight and shook the batteries into his palm. “These hold both alchemy from
your
time and science from
my
time. And in the wrong hands, the combination threatens all. Even the great temple.”

Jake threw the batteries into the fire. He needed the ancients to understand the full threat. If he was right—if there was any connection between his world and Pangaea—then something had to be done before it was too late.

The batteries heated up, and Jake waved everyone back. Though the AAA batteries had no juice, they were still dangerous. Exposed to flame, they could—

Both batteries exploded at the same time, popping with
less force than Jake had hoped. Still, the secondary result far exceeded Jake’s expectation. Apparently a little of the freezing alchemy from the blue crystal remained stored in the penlight’s battery. The flames blew out. The red-hot embers went instantly black and cold. But even more dramatically, the pool next to the fire crusted over with a solid sheet of ice.

No one moved, stunned by the display.

Before anyone could speak, a commotion at the entrance to the chamber drew their attentions. An Ur tribesman led in a young woman wearing the bloodied uniform of a Roman scout. Another two Ur carried a second soldier—an older man in centurion armor. His leg was broken, and his head lolled—he was barely conscious.

The scout noted Jake and the others. Her only reaction was a twitch of surprise that she quickly suppressed. She spoke to the Elders.

“The valley has fallen. Kalakryss belongs to the grakyl horde. The People of the Wind have been chased out of the valley, and the last of the Saddleback riders barely escaped through Serpent Pass. Calypsos is now in the hands of the Skull King.”

After several minutes of frantic questions and confusion, Pindor finally asked, “What of my father?”

“I can’t say,” the scout answered. “The town is locked down by the horde. Most hide in their homes and attics. Little is known. But word has come of a demand.
From the Skull King.”

“What demand?” Marika asked.

The woman glanced at Jake, then away again. “To give up the newcomers. We have until sunrise to obey. Already they prepare to lay torch to the Sacred Woods to smoke out the girl. But if we fail by dawn’s first light to bring forth both, the horde will begin slaughtering the townspeople.”

All eyes turned to Jake. He read the question in their expressions:
What did Kalverum Rex want with Jake and his sister?

He wasn’t any the wiser and shook his head, admitting his confusion.

The scout spoke. “Elder Tiberius sent us to speak with the Ur. To seek their aid.”

Pindor said, “That’s why we came here, too.”

“But they will not help us,” Marika added. “It is against their way.”

The scout studied Jake with hard eyes. “Then perhaps my journey here was not in vain. If the Ur cannot help, the only hope for Calypsos lies in obeying the Skull King’s demands. At least for now.”