Jake Ransom and the Skull King's Shadow (24 page)

Marika gasped. “What? You can’t be thinking of turning Jake and his sister over to—”

Jake touched her arm, silencing her. If there was any hope to avoid a massacre in Calypsos, Jake would have to give himself up to the Skull King.

But a hoarse voiced interrupted, fierce and uncompro
mising.
“No.”
Jake turned to find the Elder pointing at him. The ancient’s voice lowered into a deep warning. “A great storm builds across time. Sweeping up from the past and down from the years yet to come. It swirls around this boy. This we have suspected from our reading of the stars. It is why we set Bach’uuk to watch over him.”

Jake stiffened in surprise.

“The newcomer must not be tossed into the darkness,” the Elder finished.

“But Calypsos…” Jake said.

The ancient Elder pointed his staff at the frozen pond. “With this you have proven who you are. You are indeed of the long time. Like the temple.” He stamped his staff once on the stone floor. “To preserve both, the Ur will rise up against the shadow that has fallen over the valley.”

“Then you’ll fight?” Pindor asked.

Marika’s eyes brightened with hope.

“To follow the way, we have no choice.” Jake felt naked under the ancient’s gaze. “The great storm is upon us all.”

The full moon silhouetted the eastern gateway. Unlike the Broken Gate on the western side of the valley, this gateway had not fallen. A stone sculpture arched over the pass, black and foreboding. It formed the looping curls of a snake with two heads, one pointing south, the other north. Jake had seen the same shape drawn on the map in Magister Balam’s library, and he’d seen it sculpted in gold at the British Museum.

Jake hurried up the trail, following the Roman scout and the massive Ur warrior named Kopat. Marika trailed Jake, along with Pindor and Bach’uuk. Behind them stretched a long line of Ur tribesmen, all carrying weapons: pole spears, stone axes, crude bolas made of stones threaded on leather ropes.

Jake moved around a shoulder of rock that blocked the trail. Down a gully in the path ahead, a dozen saddled fleetbacks clustered, clearly nervous. The riders huddled near their mounts. The Saddlebacks were all young men and women, just a little older than Jake. And fear made them look even younger.

Kopat headed off to the side, gathering the Ur tribesmen together. The Roman scout led Jake and the others over to her group of fleetbacks.

“Where’s Centurion Portius?” one of the riders asked.

The scout answered, matter-of-fact, “His leg is broken. He will not be able to ride. The Ur will care for him.”

“Then who will lead us?” another asked. He seemed to find little hope in Kopat’s forces with their crude weapons. Like most of Calypsos, he must not hold much stock in the Ur’s abilities, beyond menial tasks.

The Roman woman turned to Pindor. “With Centurion Portius down, we have an empty saddle.”

Mumbles passed through the riders.

“It’s Tiberius’s son…”

“No, not Heron—the other one….”

“We
are
cursed….”

Pindor pretended not to hear them.

The woman crossed to a fearsome-looking fleetback with a ragged scar that blinded one eye. It stood off from the others and kicked a clod of rock and mud.

Jake backed away. If this was the centurion’s mount, no wonder his leg got broken. The sick expression on Pindor’s face was easy to read, even in the dark.

Before he could move—either toward the abandoned mount or away from it—a horn sounded behind them all. The low moan of its call set Jake’s teeth on edge.

Turning, Jake saw all the Ur had gathered on the lower trail. There were over fifty men. It was a large number, but only a fraction of the Ur village.

Where are the others?

Kopat stood atop a boulder with his legs widely spaced and some type of curled shell lifted to his lips. He blew again, and the long sustained note sailed toward the moon with a plaintive call.

And it was answered.

Out in the jungle, another horn blew. From the dark canopy, a large snaking head rose from the trees and pushed up into the moonlight. It climbed at least ten stories into the air. Jake recognized that long neck and blunt head. It was a brontosaurus, one of the giants in a land of giants. It began to lumber toward them.

Behind it, out in the forest, another head rose up…
and another…and still another. Like a lawn growing dandelions, a herd of brontosauruses rose into sight. Seven of them! And they all began shifting forward. The first and closest climbed out of the lower forest and began to plod up the trail toward the pass.

Ur warriors rode atop its long body and hung from its flanks in rope harnesses. Like fleas on a dog. One brave warrior sat in a high saddle behind the beast’s head, swaying with the brontosaurus’s strides. The other brontosauruses followed, equally draped with warriors.

The Roman woman shouted to the Saddleback riders. “Mount up!”

A few responded to the sharpness of her voice, but the others looked unsure—fearful of venturing back into the valley.

Marika pulled Pindor and Jake off to the side.

“Can you believe what we’re seeing?” Pindor gasped out, still staring at the lumbering brontosauruses.

Marika drew them another step off. “The surprise of the attack will surely shake the grakyl horde, but for how long? The Skull King has more fearsome demons at his call. Worse than grakyls.”

“But what else can we do?” Pindor asked.

Marika stared at Jake. “Our only chance for a true victory is to raise the temple’s shield. Without that, we’re doomed.”

Jake pictured the darkened emerald stone, poisoned by
shifting shadows at its core. “But how?”

“Can your sy-enz help us to cure the stone? To cast out the shadows at its heart? Can you not summon the power of your
elektra-city
?”

Jake shook his head. “I have no more batteries. No way to generate electricity. And even if I could, I’m not sure it would heal the emerald stone.”

Still, Jake refused to give up. He ran through all the possible ways to produce electricity: wind, steam, coal, geothermal, solar. All were beyond his abilities and certainly beyond the level of technology here.

There had to be an answer. His hand drifted to his pocket and touched the watch. If his father were here, he’d know what to do. But he wasn’t.

Jake’s fingers tightened over the gold case. Could his parents still be alive? Jake had no way of knowing, but he knew that he first had to survive to ever hope for an answer.

“There must be a way to cast the shadows out of the stone,” Marika repeated.

Jake barely heard her. But a corner of his mind took in her words. They stitched across the surface of his brain—
cast the shadows out
—while at the same time he kept churning through all the ways electricity was generated.

Coal, wind, steam, nuclear…

Then he suddenly knew. He tensed—hard enough that Marika noticed.

“Jake, what’s wrong?”

He was afraid to speak or lose his train of thought. He ran it through his head a second time. He pictured the bronze bangles on the Ur Elders’ staffs, the dancing reflections across the painted walls. He had to close his eyes.

“Jake?” Marika pressed.

He calculated what it would take—the slant, the angle, the distance.

“It will take three of us,” Jake decided aloud.

“What will?” Pindor asked.

Jake turned to his friends. “We must get back to the pyramid.”

By now, Bach’uuk had joined them. He had been watching the approach of his people with a proud reflection in his eyes.

“Bach’uuk, can you guide us back to the temple?”

He nodded. “If you wish.”

“Before we head out,” Jake added, “we’ll also need some armor.”

Marika grabbed his arm. “Jake, what are you planning? Do you have a way of healing the emerald crystal?”

“Maybe.”

It was a long shot, but if Jake was right, it also helped explain why Kalverum Rex had waited until the
night
to orchestrate this attack. The Skull King had been taking no chances.

“How are you going to heal it?” Pindor asked. “With what?”

“With the world’s oldest and largest battery,” Jake answered.

As he laid out his plan, Pindor’s eyes glazed over a bit.

“Do you think it will work?” Marika asked.

Jake saw no reason to lie. “I don’t know.”

“What if it fails? What if you’re wrong?”

“Then we’ll be doomed.” Jake shrugged. “But as you said, Mari, we’re doomed anyway.”

“Will you both quit saying
doom
so much?” Pindor groused at them. He did not look well.

Jake asked, “Does anyone have a better plan?”

No one spoke up.

Jake began to elaborate on the details, but Pindor cut him off.

“What you’re planning to do—it’ll take perfect timing.”

Jake nodded.

“…and a distraction might help,” Pindor added.

Before Jake could agree, his friend glanced to the gathered Saddlebacks, who were reluctantly climbing into their seats. They wore expressions varying from
hopefulness
at the approaching Ur tribe to
hopelessness
at what they faced in Calypsos.

Pindor spoke with his head still turned. “Jake, you said you needed three of us. Can Bach’uuk take my place?”

Marika touched Pindor’s elbow. “Pin, we need you.”

He stepped away. “You need three people. Not me. Is that right, Jake?”

Jake heard the strained tones in his friend’s voice. He knew it didn’t rise from fear, but from determination. Pindor wasn’t trying to avoid this dangerous mission. He intended to throw himself into a hotter fire.

“Three should do it,” Jake answered.

Pindor nodded. He clutched the whistle Jake had given him like a good-luck piece and headed toward the Saddlebacks.

“Pin!” Marika called.

Jake put a hand on Marika’s elbow. “He knows what he’s doing.”

Jake remembered Pindor’s skill at strategy. He had spotted the weak point in Jake’s plan and sought to fill it. To have any chance of pulling this off would take precise timing. And a distraction at the right time could prove the difference between success and failure.

“Listen for the horns!” Pindor called back.

The Roman woman still sought to control the giant scarred fleetback as the other riders mounted up. As Pindor stepped up to the stubborn beast, a few derisive snorts followed in his wake.

The fleetback stamped a foot and came close to taking off all of Pindor’s toes. But Pindor didn’t flinch. Instead he raised a palm and placed it on the leathery neck of the mount. His other hand pocketed the whistle.

“Stamp like that again, Scar-Eye,” Pindor said, “and I’ll make my next pair of sandals out of your scaly hide.”

The fleetback swung its boxy head and fixed its good eye on Pindor. The two stared each other down. The saurian was the first to blink.

Pindor jumped, caught a toe in a stirrup, and hauled into the high saddle. He moved like he’d done it a thousand times—and Jake imagined his friend had done just that, if only in his head.

Twisting in his saddle, Pindor called to his fellow Saddlebacks. “What are you all waiting for! We have Calypsos to rescue!”

The Roman scout gaped at him for a breath longer, then dashed to her own mount and flew into her saddle.

With a wave of his arm and a shout of encouragement, the Saddlebacks began moving up the trail as the Ur forces followed atop their brontosauruses. The parade ascended slowly toward the giant archway carved into the shape of a double-headed snake.

Jake turned to Marika and Bach’uuk. It was now just the three of them. His doubts grew sharper. How could they hope to defeat the Skull King by themselves?

But Marika’s eyes shone with hope, and Bach’uuk matched his gaze with a stoic determination. Jake drew strength from his friends. He lifted an arm and pointed back along the cliffside trail.

“We’d better hurry.”

Dressed in bronze armor that Bach’uuk had borrowed from a blacksmith shop at the Ur village, they made their way back to the pyramid. It seemed to take three times longer than before. The pressure of time grew to such a sharpness that Jake swore he could almost sense the sun pushing around the Earth and climbing toward a new day.

The weight of the breastplate alone reminded Jake of the burden of his responsibility. Worry grew with each heavy step.

What if I fail?

What if I’m wrong?

At long last, Bach’uuk led Marika and Jake back into the pyramid’s lower levels, and they began a rapid ascent toward the chamber of the crystal heart. As Jake passed through the room with the gold Mayan calendar, his eyes traveled over the strange language on the walls, the
map of Pangaea, and the two gear wheels on the floor. His hand cupped the watch in his pocket. He wanted to stop—his feet even slowed—but the mystery would have to wait. He forced himself to hurry up the stone stairs to the room above.

The main chamber had not changed. The strange pressure again pulsed with each turn of the three-layered crystal heart. The odd glyphs spun and rolled in thousands of combinations as the sphere hovered in the center of the domed space. Beneath the massive sphere, two smaller ones glowed—a rich crimson, a vibrant silvery blue. The emerald had grown so dark that it almost looked black.

Jake dropped to one knee for a closer look, while Marika hovered at his shoulder.

“Does it look like we’re too late?” she asked.

Jake studied the stone. “I don’t know.”

The core of the emerald sphere swirled with dark shadows, an inky whirlpool that screamed of corruption and death. They didn’t have much time.

Jake straightened and glanced up to the pyramid’s main entrance. The tunnel angled upward, dark as pitch. At any moment, he expected to see demonic grakyl come pouring out.

“C’mon,” he said, and led them to the mouth of the tunnel, then turned to Marika. “You stay here in the chamber. I’ll bring Bach’uuk farther up the tunnel. You know what you have to do?”

Marika’s eyes were wide with fear—some of it reserved for Jake. “Be careful.”

Jake nodded, but his plan was the farthest thing from
careful
. As he began to turn away, Marika suddenly lunged forward and hugged him tight. Then she let him go.

Jake warmed and blushed. He opened his mouth and found no words.

“Go!” she said, and pushed him away. “What are you waiting for?”

Jake blinked. He still had no words. So he swung around and hurried up the slanted tunnel. His heart pounded in his chest, but in a good way.

Once he was halfway up and almost out of sight of Marika, he halted again and told Bach’uuk, “You have to stand ready here. I must go up alone.”

Bach’uuk reached over and grasped Jake’s forearm in the typical handshake of the Ur. Jake returned the shake. They were all taking a huge risk, one that could cost them their lives.

Jake continued up the last part of the tunnel on his own. The dark passageway grew lighter as the opening appeared ahead. A starry sky filled the pyramid’s round opening.

He slowed his approach—and with good reason.

Shadowy shapes blotted out the stars. Jake heard hisses and squeals, along with the leathery beat of wings and scrape of claws on stone. The grakyl horde gathered just
beyond the opening.

Jake edged forward until a strange tingle swept over his body. It stood the hairs of his arms on end. He had felt the same when he’d jumped through here before, like he felt when he’d passed through the Broken Gate, what seemed like a lifetime ago. Only now the tingle was barely a whisper of its former strength. It was all that remained of the shield. But it still seemed strong enough to keep the grakyl horde out of the temple. At least, Jake hoped so.

He just waited, bathed in that tingling.

Jake stared out over the valley. From his high vantage, he could see all the way over to the eastern wall. The skies had already begun to lighten. He had no more time to spare.

Jake cupped his hands over his mouth. “Hello!” he shouted.

In response something huge dropped from above the doorway and landed on the step below the opening. The dark shape swung around and brandished a long black blade that looked like a glassy shard of obsidian. Wings unfurled and cut out the sky.

A grakyl lord.

Jake dropped to his knees, making sure to stay within the tingle of the fading shield. Pinched black eyes stared back at him.

“I am Jake Ransom!” he yelled out, hoping the bat-faced monstrosity understood. “One of the newcomers.”

The grakyl lord climbed the step to stand at the threshold. Jake was close enough to note the cracked yellow nails of its claws and the squashed snout of its nose. Its sword rose to point at Jake’s chest.

Jake shivered in his armor, but he had to buy an extra moment. So he reached to his sides and unbuckled the bronze breastplate. He let it clatter to the stone in a clear sign of surrender.

This last idea had been Marika’s. As Jake stared at the razor edge of the grakyl lord’s sword, he began to doubt the wisdom of her strategy. But he was committed now. There was no turning back.

Jake lifted his arms. “I surrender!” he yelled out to the monstrous figure. “But only to your master! Only to Kalverum Rex!”

The grakyl lord leaned closer. Its slitted nostrils flared open and closed. Beyond its wings, the eastern sky continued to brighten as sunrise neared. Dawn had been the deadline set by the Skull King for the surrender of Jake and Kady.

They had no more time.

“I give up!” Jake yelled. He coughed to clear his throat. His chest had seized up in fear. Still, he repeated his one ultimatum. “But I’ll only surrender to the Skull King!”

The grakyl lord studied Jake a moment longer—then swung around with a sweep of its bone and leather wings. An ear-shattering cry erupted from its ghastly mouth and
echoed out over the valley.

The call was repeated by others in the horde. Soon the whole valley rang out with the horrible cries. The message was being spread.

But would it be answered?

Yes or no?

Both answers terrified Jake.

The waiting stretched to an agonizing length. Jake’s heart climbed into his throat and pounded there. To make matters worse, he felt the tingling fading from his skin as he knelt at the pyramid’s opening. The shield was almost gone.

The grakyl lord kept his distance on the outer steps, but for how much longer?

How much time do I have left?

Jake studied the sky. To the east, a rosy glow seeped upward from the horizon. Sunrise was fast approaching. The deadline given by the Skull King was about to pass. Jake’s fear grew sharper. His worry for Kady weighed like a cold stone in his belly.

All he could do was wait.

In a matter of moments, the first rays of the sun would shine brightly upon the pyramid’s entrance. Despite his pounding heart, Jake remembered the significance of such an orientation, something he’d learned from his father. All Mayan temples were built to greet the first light
of the new day. And for that matter, the great stone cathedrals of Europe also faced their front doors to the east.

As Jake knelt, he wondered if that tradition traced its origin to here, to this very structure. Before he could ponder the mystery any further, the cries of the grakyl horde cut off. The sudden silence felt like a blanket thrown over the entire valley.

Concerned, Jake climbed to his feet. Out on the steps, the grakyl horde ducked low and bowed their heads. Their wings folded behind their backs. Jake spotted something sweeping across the sky. The breadth of its wings stretched impossibly far—and it grew larger with each beat of Jake’s heart.

Like some saurian jumbo jet.

How could something so immense stay aloft? It seemed impossible. And what made its approach especially creepy was its utter silence. It glided toward the temple without a sound, as if it were more shadow than substance.

The creature sank lower until it was a dark silhouette racing over the treetops of the Sacred Woods. It looked like the monster of all winged dinosaurs, the pteranodon. As it flew toward the pyramid, the forest canopy rustled in its wake as if the trees themselves shivered.

Then it suddenly twisted and shot upward, so high and fast that Jake lost sight of it. The muscles of his legs twitched. He came close to stepping out of the doorway’s shadow to keep it in sight. Instead he tensed his entire
body and kept his post.

And lucky he did….

A moment later, the pterosaur landed on the side of the pyramid, filling half the steps. Grakyl scattered to the sides. One was crushed under a heavy leg. Squirming and screaming, it died.

Jake forced himself to remain in the doorway. Everything depended on him keeping his place.

The pterosaur lowered its neck and stretched its wings as if hugging the temple. Though the creature was massive, Jake had a hard time seeing it clearly. Shadows clung to its form, flowing over its body.

Its long narrow head ended up coming to rest only a couple yards to the left of the doorway. Draped in shadows that looked like a lion’s mane, the head ended in a crocodilian snout rimmed by crooked pointed teeth. Jake had seen enough pteranodon fossils to know this was no ordinary pterosaur. For one, pterosaurs didn’t have
teeth
.

But it was the eyes that truly set Jake’s jaw to clench. Two black orbs stared at Jake, like polished black diamonds. They were empty and bottomless tunnels to places were screams always echoed and blood flowed like rivers.

But even that wasn’t the worst.

From behind the saurian’s neck, a clot of shadows dropped away and struck the temple stairs. The other grakyl fell back, scrambling over one another to keep out of its way. On the steps, the shape straightened and formed
the figure of a man.

He was massive, at least seven feet tall. He wore a suit of black armor that covered him from head to toe. It was crowned by a helmet bearing a pair of horns, but unlike those on the Viking helmets, these horns were kinked into savage twists and curls, as if grown from the skull of a beast that had been tortured its entire life. The figure stalked up the steps, moving with a deliberate determination toward Jake.

Jake tried to spy any features, but beneath the helmet lay only shadows. Still, Jake knew who climbed the temple.

Kalverum Rex.

The Skull King.

As the dark shape neared the entrance, Jake realized one error. Kalverum Rex wore no armor. What covered his body were dense shadows. They flowed over his form, shining like black oil on skin. But rather than billowing and wafting about, the shadows wrapped tight to his body, as if the darkness were scared of what lay hidden at its heart and attempted to hide the horror from the world.

For the Skull King, shadows were his armor.

Though there were no eyes, Jake knew the fiend stared straight at him. His skin crawled with a burning itch that had nothing to do with the temple’s shield. He wanted to run—and keep running. But Jake didn’t move. More than bravery, terror kept him rooted in place.

The Skull King climbed to the top step and towered across the threshold. Jake leaned away as an arm stretched toward him. He knew a single touch and he would be dead.

The hand edged closer, reaching for him, cautiously, as if testing unknown waters. As it crossed into the weakening shield, emerald fire danced over the black fingertips and stripped the shadows away. From out of the darkness appeared fingers covered in gray-green scales and tipped by long yellow claws.

No
man
had hands like that—at least no one that was still human.

A rustle of satisfaction shook through the shadows that covered Kalverum Rex. He knew the shield held no power that could stop him. All that stood between the Skull King and the heart of the temple’s power was a boy from North Hampshire, Connecticut.

Recognizing this, too, Jake took his first scared step backward.

Kalverum’s satisfaction melted to dark amusement. With the shield down, nothing could stop him. Jake had nowhere to hide.

Words flowed out that turned the marrow of Jake’s bones to ice.

“Come to me…”