Seven Wonders Book 3 (19 page)

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

N
ADINE

“U
P, GRIFFIN!
” C
ASS
commanded.

The beast faltered for a moment, confused.

“No . . .” Aly said, looking downward at Professor Bhegad in stunned disbelief.

“
Go up—now!
” Cass shouted.

The griffin veered in midflight. We rose so quickly I thought I'd lose my balance. Professor Bhegad's eyes met mine. Briefly. His irises were gray. His face showed no fear. No recognition. He opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was an incoherent grunt.

I felt a sharp tug. Saw the blur of a barren gray branch. Heard a dull
whump
.

I closed my eyes and held tight to the griffin.

My leg was free. But I was crying.

 

With an exhausted caw, the griffin set down on a dry, dusty plain. My arms were nearly rigid around Cass's midsection, but I managed to pry them off and slide to the ground. I landed on my side and rolled to my back, staring upward into the unchanging sky. Aly and Cass flopped down beside me. Aly immediately went to work on her shackles, digging bobby pins into the lock.

With two sharp, metallic snaps, she was free. She lay back with a groan of relief, massaging her wrists.

The griffin folded its legs underneath itself, like a lion. It turned its beak toward a long gash on its flank and began licking it. “Great job, Big Bird,” Cass said. “Hey, you're much nicer than your cousin in Rhodes.”

“Careful, he looks hungry,” Aly warned.

“It's not a he, it's a she,” Cass said. “I'm calling her Nadine.”

“How do you know it's female?” Aly asked.

Cass shrugged. As he scratched underneath the griffin's chin, she closed her eyes and let out a soft purring noise. “We shared.”

I closed my eyes, but all I could see was the professor's face. His colorless eyes.

Aly turned onto her side and propped her head on her hand. “Thanks, Jack,” she said.

“For what?” I murmured.

“Saving me in the castle,” she replied. “Breaking the shackles.”

I turned away. “I didn't save Bhegad.”

“What you did just now—you couldn't have done anything else,” Aly said.

“He dedicated his life to us,” I said. “We were supposed to save him. We had a plan. And . . . I just let him go . . .”

Cass sat down next to me. “That wasn't Professor Bhegad hanging on to you, Jack. He was a number, like Nine and Forty-one. A shell of Bhegad. You didn't kill him. Artemisia did, when she took his soul.”

“We knew the plan had risks,” Aly reasoned. “Even if the Loculus was there, we don't know if it could have brought him back.”

I nodded. I knew all this. I knew Professor Bhegad would have died even if we hadn't come to Bo'gloo.

But none of this changed the facts. Bhegad was gone. So was the Loculus of Healing. With them went our own chances of surviving.

And until the day I died, I would never forget those eyes.

Cass gave the griffin one last pat on the neck, then jumped to his feet. “Let's get out of here.”

As he turned and began walking across the field, I stood. My ankle was sore from where Bhegad had been hanging. Aly took my arm. Together we followed Cass into the emptiness before us.

I trained my eyes on the edge of the woods, where the fog snaked like a river. Where was the portal?

Aly stopped. “Do you hear something?”

“No—” Before the word left my lips, I saw a rock flying over our heads.

I spun around. Now I could hear a low grumbling noise. I squinted and saw shifting forms in the trees. Behind us the griffin let out a loud screech.

“Shadows . . .” I said.

“How did they find us?” Aly screamed.

I heard Skilaki's voice in my head—
You cannot escape!

They were everywhere, like insects—lurching toward us on all sides, out of the trees and bushes. There were teams of them, swinging slings, throwing rocks and branches. Snorting and braying like animals. “Cass, how far?” I called out.

He was running into their midst. “This way!” he shouted. “Hurry! We have to get there before they do!”

Two projectiles hurtled through the air toward my head. I dived to the ground and rolled.

Aly let out a scream. She was on the ground, blood oozing from her head.

KIIIIIAAAHHHHH!
The griffin's cry blotted out all sound. She swooped above us, plunging into the zombies' midst like a cannonball.

I lifted Aly off the ground. “Can you run?”

She blinked her eyes erratically. “Yes. I think.”

“Here!” Cass screamed. He was thirty yards ahead of us, his arm half vanished into thin air.

The portal.

Cass was reaching toward us. I pushed Aly ahead of me. “Take her, she's hurt!”

I saw Cass's hand close around Aly's. In a nanosecond, they both disappeared. I prepared to leap.

But my feet never left the ground. I felt a sharp set of fingers grabbing my arm. Pulling me back.

“Graammpfff.”
Cold, musty breath blasted my face, and I gagged.

I swung my body around and faced a Shadow with a massive frame. I lowered my head and thrust it forward, hard. My forehead smashed into the zombie's head with a dull splat, like a baseball bat hitting a cantaloupe. The fingers loosened for a moment. I tried to pull away, but this one was bigger than Forty-one and not as fragile. It held tight.

My feet left the ground. I looked around desperately for the portal, but it was invisible. The Shadows were converging on me now. In the distance I could see a team of them pelting the griffin with rocks and sticks, overwhelming the screeching beast.

I was moving now. The Shadow had me by the arms and was swinging me around. The others backed off, waiting in a circle, grunting, clapping hands. It was a game to them. Dodgeball for the undead. I felt my feet lift upward, parallel to the ground, gaining speed.

I closed my eyes, preparing to be thrown. I thought about Cass and Aly. I thought about Dad. They would be on their own.

Now my ankles smacked against a palm. And another. Fingers closed tight. My hands wrenched away from the Shadow's grip and my top half fell.

My face and palms hit the ground at the same time. Pebbles dug into my cheek as I scraped along the parched soil.

Something popped in my ears. Around me was a flash of bright white.

I screamed.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

B
ECAUSE OF THE
E
YES

A
RTEMISIA IS YOUNGER
.
I barely recognize her face. Her skin is smooth, her figure plump. Her robe shines with jewels.

But I know who she is because of the eyes. They are sharp. They see everything, one step ahead.

She tells me she does not want any more responsibilities. Building the temple was difficult. She gestures behind her, to a pair of men eating and drinking at a thick oak table. One is younger than the other by a generation, yet both are tearing into goose shanks, devouring grapes, swigging from flagons that are replenished by slaves.

Mappas. And Mausolus.

He will not approve, Artemisia explains. He will not want anything in his realm that does not belong to him.

It cannot belong to him, I explain. But he must keep it safe. For the safety of the world.

Artemisia shrugs. These are not his concerns, she says. And she bids me farewell.

I snap my fingers and the sky darkens. Overhead the hovering griffin has begun its dive. Artemisia looks up and shrieks. The slaves are running into the castle. The satrap and his vassal jostle to follow them. Neither of them seems concerned with Artemisia.

The creature is
hungry. Its mouth froths, sending flecks of spittle into the air.

I can call it off, I say. Or you can grant me this simple request.

The elegant woman's eyes are wide and desperate. She nods, holding out her palm as I hand her my sack.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

W
E
T
RIED

G
RIFFIN SPIT RAN
down my face like a warm shower.

I bolted upward with a scream.

“He waketh,” came a voice above me. “O rapture unexampled.”

The surrounding gray had darkened. I took in a gulp and nearly choked.

Humidity.

I could taste the salt in the air.

Above me loomed the face of Canavar, leering down at me as if I were some vaguely interesting ancient relic.

My father's joy was a lot less restrained. As he lifted me into a big hug, I closed my eyes. I couldn't believe I was here. Back with him. Back with them all. Cass and Aly were kneeling by my side, along with Dr. Bradley. Torquin was still at the entrance, pacing.

“Dude,” Cass said, “I thought you were going to kick my hand off the wrist.”

“Cass held on,” Aly told me. “So did I. Together we were practically a whole Marco.”

“Well, a fraction of a Marco,” Cass added. “But enough to pull you through.”

I was starting to understand. The hands I'd felt on my ankles had not been zombie claws after all. They'd been Cass and Aly, pulling me to safety.

Dad was grinning, his cheeks moist. “You went in. And then Cass and Aly bounced right back out. What happened?”

I glanced at my watch. The second hand was moving again, but the other hands were still on 3:17. To Dad and the others, no time had passed.

“No Loculus!” called Torquin from the Mausoleum entrance. “No professor. Go back.”

Cass and Aly stared at me.

“Torquin . . . we tried,” I said.

“Tried?”
Torquin thundered.
“What means tried?”

“He didn't make it,” Aly said softly.

Torquin's body sagged. Even in the dark I could see the panic in his eyes and the deepening of his skin's natural redness. He took a step backward as if he'd been pushed, and his shoulders began to shake. Dr. Bradley rushed toward him, but Canavar got there first. He put his arms around Torquin's knees in the best comforting gesture he could manage.

A sound welled up from the ground below us, deep and disturbing, like the bowing of a cracked cello. Dr. Bradley and Canavar jumped in surprise. They reached toward Torquin and coaxed him down the steps.

The ground began to vibrate. The wall was glowing now, its solid stone shimmering and blurring. We scrambled backward across the rubble-strewn field.

The Mausoleum seemed to flare with light. Then, just as it had arrived, it began to fade from existence. The chariot went first and then the roof, until the wall gave way to the darkness beyond.

In a moment, all that was left was a moonlit pile of rocks. On top of them lay the matching number seven plates.

Dad knelt beside us, his face drawn and pale. “Your shoulder, Jack,” he said. “I hadn't noticed . . .”

I looked down. My shirt was torn, and blood had started to well from the gashes where the griffin had clawed me. “It's only a flesh wound,” I said.

“I'll have to treat that,” Dr. Bradley called out. “I want to examine all of you.”

As the doctor dabbed at my shoulder, Dad put a warm, comforting hand on mine. “Start from the beginning, Jack. Please.”

Taking a deep breath, I told him everything I could. From the waters of Nostalgikos to the river of fire, from Artemisia's palace and Bhegad's death to the flight back on the griffin. Aly and Cass chimed in with details.

Dad listened, quietly nodding, wincing at the painful parts. I knew we'd come a long way from Mongolia. His questioning, skepticism, stubbornness—all of it had peeled back for a moment.

He believed me now. I could tell. He believed everything.

As I finished, Dad let out a deep sigh. “Bhegad followed through. He gave his life for you. And I never had the chance to forgive him. To let him know I didn't blame him any longer for what happened to Mom.”

Dr. Bradley brushed a tear from her eye. “I think he knew how you felt.”

“Yes,” came the muffled rumble of Torquin's voice. “He knew.”

He was sitting on the ground, his back to us. Looking straight ahead into the darkness.

Into the space where he had last seen Professor Bhegad.