Oracles of Delphi Keep (49 page)

Not long after, the moon began to rise, offering fairly good lighting. Najib led them on a path that wound around boulders and outcroppings ever deeper into the valley. The Jichmach warrior did not stop, even though the horses were blowing in protest and pawing at the ground. It was clear that Najib wanted to get across the valley as quickly as possible.

They marched on, and much to Ian’s relief, Thatcher glanced back and saw poor Carl stumbling behind while Ian tried to support him. His schoolmaster called to one of the warriors, pointing to Carl and speaking in French. The warrior ignored him for a while, but Thatcher was persistent and eventually the man steered his horse over to Carl, lifted him roughly up, and placed him in the saddle. Ian watched his friend with concern, but Carl’s head bobbed twice and he was fast asleep in his seat.

For the next few hours, Ian and his schoolmasters simply focused on putting one foot in front of the other, and Ian knew he too was reaching his limit. Finally, near midnight, and just as Ian was sure he would not be able to go on, they crested the hill on the other side of the valley and Najib lifted his arm and the procession stopped.

Ian sank to his knees along with Thatcher and Perry. “Thank heavens,” gasped Perry. “I couldn’t take another step.”

Again their group watched as the tribesmen hoisted their tents, Najib’s going up first and the others around it. The warrior unbuckled the holster for his huge bejeweled sword before sliding it into his tent. “That is one frightful weapon,” said Ian.

“It’s called a scimitar,” said the professor. “It’s sharp enough to slice a man in half.”

“Wish I had my sword,” Carl moaned. “Those buggers pinched it off me back at Jifaar’s.”

Theo rubbed the crystal at her neck, a far-off look in her eyes. Suddenly, she turned to Carl and said, “I have a feeling you’re going to get your sword back, Carl.”

“Really?” he asked, brightening.

Theo nodded. “And when you do, it’s really, really important that you not let it go again, all right?”

“Okay,” he said with a smile.

But she didn’t seem convinced. “Promise me,” she insisted. “Promise me that no matter what, you’ll not let go of it again.”

Carl cocked his head quizzically at her. “Gaw blimey, Theo, I promise, all right?”

Looking satisfied, Theo let go of her pendant and sighed. “We should all get some sleep,” she said.

Ian wanted to ask Theo why she’d been so insistent with Carl, but his eyelids closed before he could speak, as exhaustion claimed his body and sent him into a deep sleep.

* * *

It felt as if he’d been asleep only a few moments when a great commotion woke him with a start. He sat straight up and looked at Perry, Thatcher, the professor, and Carl, who each appeared every bit as alarmed as he was. The tribesmen of the camp were racing for their horses, while others surrounded the prisoners and drew their scimitars menacingly, their backs to the group.

“What’s going on?” Perry asked as he attempted to get up, only to be pushed roughly back down by one of the tribesmen.

“There’s someone out there,” said Carl, pointing to the edge of the valley. “Someone’s coming up the hill!”

A lone figure moved straight up the hillside toward them. In the moonlight he appeared tall, dressed in a long hooded cloak, his features indiscernible. Theo gasped and gripped Ian’s arm in fear. “He’s evil,” she whispered.

The hairs on the back of Ian’s neck prickled as the puzzle pieces fell into place in his mind. The cloaked stranger he’d seen on the lawn at Castle Dover, the figure he’d spied on their way up the river, and the vile being approaching them were all the same. As if to confirm his suspicions, in the distance came a howl that Ian and the others knew all too well.

The warriors stood alert, their hands firmly on the swords by their sides, and eyed the hills suspiciously. The beast hadn’t sounded that close, but Ian knew that the animal had no trouble covering great distances quickly. As he looked around, trying to search the shadows, he noticed that Najib had come out of his tent and was moving to the front of the men. Once there, he stood tall and fierce between the
cloaked stranger and the prisoners and shouted. There was no mistaking his tone.

“He’s told the stranger to stop and turn back,” whispered the professor, sitting next to Carl.

But the cloaked figure continued to climb the hill, as if he hadn’t even heard Najib’s command.

Najib motioned to one of the men on horseback, who pulled his scimitar from its scabbard and raced down the hill toward the stranger.

The tribesman closed in on the invader, his mount charging ahead. But as the horse got nearer, it suddenly halted and violently pitched the rider forward. The tribesman was barely able to hold on, but he managed to right himself and he kicked the horse cruelly in an effort to continue his charge.

The horse, however, was having none of it, and it reared up in the air. Again the tribesman had great difficulty keeping his seat, and the scimitar flew out of his hand. Cursing the horse, the tribesman kicked hard again, but his mount simply bucked, unseating its rider, then ran off at breakneck speed toward the south and the safety of the foothills.

Behind Ian, Najib roared in anger. The Jichmach leader pointed to another of his men and then down the hill to the stranger. The second warrior clucked his tongue and gave a high-pitched war cry as he spurred his horse forward and drew his scimitar, preparing to slice the cloaked stranger in half.

To Ian’s astonishment, his horse reacted the same way, unseating its rider and running off to the hills. Najib’s anger
was palpable. He whistled to his white stallion and, yanking one of his warriors’ scimitars right out of his hand, mounted his horse bareback in one smooth motion and charged down the hill himself, yelling what Ian thought was a particularly intimidating war cry, and waving the borrowed sword over his head.

No one was prepared for what happened next. Najib’s mount suddenly planted its front feet and skidded to a halt.

A battle of sorts took place between rider and stallion as Najib drove his heels into the horse’s sides. The horse screamed and reared up, and Najib was nearly unseated. When the stallion landed, the tribal leader used the flat side of his sword to swat the horse on the rump, but that only added to the animal’s hysteria, and it reared again. This time when the steed landed, it fell to the ground and rolled onto its back. Najib jumped clear at the last moment, very nearly missing being crushed.

Ian watched in fascination as the horse got to its feet and rounded on Najib, pulling its lips back to bite its master. Najib turned and scurried up the hill before whirling around to watch his prized stallion follow the other two horses. He shook his fists at the horse’s back and cursed it at the top of his lungs.

Ian nearly laughed out loud at the scene—until both he and Najib realized that the cloaked stranger had come closer.

Najib collected himself quickly and raised his scimitar in front of him while he yelled at the stranger,
“Arrêtez! Je vous commande de vous arrêtez!”

“What did he say?” Carl asked.

“He’s commanded him to stop,” answered the professor. “But the bloody fool keeps coming!”

The cloaked figure continued to climb slowly and methodically up the hill until he was standing in front of Najib, who had raised his scimitar to a level where he could easily bring it down on the stranger.

For a long tense moment, no one moved—not the stranger, not the tribesmen, and not the children or their elders. The animals, however, were a completely different story. The remaining horses stomped their feet nervously and whinnied in fear.

Finally, the cloaked figure reached up and calmly eased his hood back from his head. Ian winced at the sight of him. Even in the moonlight he could tell that the stranger was a hideous man. The pale glow of the moon reflected off the stranger’s bony, scarred face; long curved nose; recessed eyes; and bald head.

“Good evening,” he said in English, and Ian felt an icy shiver of fear travel up his spine at the man’s voice. “I am Magus the Black, Druid master of fire, and I have come to trade for the children.”

Ian put a protective arm around Theo while he saw Thatcher place a hand on Carl’s shoulder. “Don’t worry,” the schoolmaster said in a slightly shaky voice. “We won’t let any of you go without a fight.”

Ian’s eyes darted back to Najib as he prayed that the warrior would bring down his sword and save them from the sorcerer. He knew that whatever fate lay in store for them at the hands of the Jichmach was nothing compared to the doom Magus the Black was about to unveil.

Slowly, Najib lowered his scimitar and spoke to the Druid in French. And even though Ian couldn’t understand the words, he soon guessed what the warrior had asked when Magus nodded and reached slowly into his cloak to pull out two pouches. One of the pouches jingled, and Magus tugged open the string with his long bony fingers and shook out a few gold coins.

If Najib was impressed, he didn’t show it; instead, he waited for the sorcerer to unveil what was in the second pouch. And Magus didn’t waste any time. Quickly, he swapped the small bags and pulled loose the other’s string. Then he carefully spread the folds of it open and unveiled the largest blue stone Ian had ever seen.

“Oh, my,” gasped the professor. “It seems that Magus is returning the Jichmach’s treasure.”

Ian was startled when Najib raised his sword again and pointed it directly at the sorcerer, shouting at him in French in a way that was less than polite.

“He’s accusing Magus of stealing the tribe’s Star!” the professor said.

But to this outburst, the sorcerer merely pulled his thin lips back into a truly gruesome smile of dozens of small sharply tipped teeth.

Najib took a hesitant step away, but Magus made his intentions clear when he stretched out the hand holding the giant blue sapphire toward the warrior, then spoke to him in Arabic.

“What’d he say?” demanded Carl in a breathy whisper.

The professor didn’t answer him right away, so Thatcher urged, “Professor Nutley? Can you please translate for us?”

The professor shook his head, clearly troubled. “Magus is claiming to have come across a German band of looters in Larache and discovered they’d stolen this from a tribe in the badlands. He says he’s gone to great lengths to return the Star of Lixus to its rightful owners out of the goodness of his heart.”

“If that mangy-looking bloke has goodness, then I’m the King of England!” sneered Carl.

The group waited in silence while Najib weighed what Magus was saying against his anger at being unseated and humiliated in front of his men. Then, finally, the Jichmach warrior snatched the sapphire out of Magus’s extended hand and pointed toward the north.
“Allez-vous-en!”
he yelled.

“He’s demanding that Magus leave,” explained the professor.

But Magus didn’t move. Instead, he tossed the pouch of gold coins up and down in his hand temptingly. Then he spoke to Najib, his voice high and grating on Ian’s already frayed nerves.

“Magus is asking how much for the children,” the professor explained, worry edging its way into his voice.

Najib stomped the ground again, obviously still irritated by his loss of face. But then, as the sorcerer continued to talk to him, he pointed to the pouch and yelled something.

Again the professor didn’t translate right away, so Ian gently reminded him. “Sir? Could you tell us what he said?”

The professor met his eyes, and Ian thought for a moment that he wasn’t going to explain. The older man looked at Thatcher and Perry, who both nodded, so he continued. “Najib is asking for the entire contents of the pouch in exchange for the children.”

Ian gasped and turned back to Magus, knowing already what the answer would be.

The crack that was Magus’s mouth spread wide, showing double rows of those fangs.
“Bien,”
the sorcerer said with a nod, and tossed the pouch with the gold at Najib. Then he calmly walked up the hill, straight for their group.

Ian felt a cold trickle of sweat make its way down his back. He knew that if he, Theo, and Carl were handed over to one of Demogorgon’s offspring, they would most certainly be dead before morning.

“We’re done for,” moaned Carl, his voice squeaky and frightened as he too watched Magus approach them. Ian’s mind began to race. He thought perhaps they could all make a run for it. He wondered if Najib would send his warriors after them now that they technically belonged to Magus. But before Ian could make a decision, the silence of the night was sliced by a great cry from the northwest and thundering hoofbeats.

Without warning, and seemingly appearing out of thin air, a horde of cloaked warriors rode into their camp, their scimitars raised and high-pitched cries reverberating across the lands.

Ian crouched low and held Theo tightly, trying to figure out what was happening. He looked up just as one of the Jichmach tribesmen who had been guarding them was cut down by an invader on horseback.

And then, he heard Perry shout above the noise, “It’s the Jstor!”

Ian squinted into the dark, finally spotting none other than Raajhi on his black stallion as he raced into the middle
of the surprised and scrambling Jichmach. Ian jumped to his feet, pulling Theo with him. To his right, Perry yelled out, “Let’s run for it!”

Ian gripped Theo’s arm tightly and bolted after Perry, who was practically dragging the professor along on the mad dash through the maze of tents, warriors, and chaos. Ian could see that Thatcher had yanked Carl up by the shoulder and was running to catch up to his brother, but as they skirted around warriors, scimitars, and horses, a tribesman came charging at their group, his scimitar raised directly at Thatcher’s head. Ian shouted, “Look out!” and Thatcher barely had time to dive out of the way, pulling Carl with him.

Ian didn’t see the peg in the ground securing the tent until he tripped over it, tumbling to the earth and taking Theo with him. Quick as a flash, he scrambled to his feet. “You all right?” he shouted to her in a panic as he helped her back up.

“Yes, yes!” Theo answered, her eyes large and frightened. But when Ian turned to look for Thatcher and Carl, they were nowhere to be found. He’d nearly run all the way back to where he’d last seen them, but stopped when he heard Perry shout, “Ian! Theo! Stay with me!”