Time Hunters and the Spear of Fate, The (17 page)

Everyone followed at pace. Even
Butterby seemed to find a new lease of life, and moved with the speed of a much
younger man. Becky was impressed he didn’t even break a sweat, despite the
heat.

Layla disappeared into an opening
near the top of the hill, everyone trailing close behind. Once inside the cave,
Becky found herself lost for words. The cave reminded her of something from a
fairy story; thick shafts of moonlight shone in through slats in the roof,
illuminating the limestone walls which were braided in swirling butter-yellow
patterns; thick stalactites, long and twisted, pointed down from the roof like
dragons’ teeth.

‘It’s like Santa’s grotto,’ Joe
said.

‘There are many caves such as this
in the Mokattam Hills,’ Layla said, pointing to a path that tapered into
darkness. ‘And that pathway takes you through the hill to Memphis. Would you
like to see it?’

‘Too right we would,’ Joe said
eagerly.

‘The passageway will be as dark as
the gates of Duat, so you will have to track me by my voice.’

‘I wouldn’t worry about that,
Layla,’ Uncle Percy said, removing an illumino bead from his cloak pocket. He
pitched it deep into the blackness. ‘We’ve brought light!’ As the bead cracked
against the ground, a brilliant white light lit the tunnel ahead. He grinned at
Layla, whose eyes had doubled in size.

‘He does stuff like that,’ Becky
whispered in Layla’s ear. ‘He’s a bit of a show off, really.’ She would have
followed this with a giggle, if it hadn’t been for Uncle Percy’s grave
expression.

‘Shall we take a look what we’re up
against, then?’

Layla, who was still clearly
astonished by the artificial light, set off down the winding passageway, taking
small, cautious steps. Everyone followed, with Edgar almost doubled over to
prevent his horns scuffing the ceiling. 

After so many hours in the Egyptian
heat, Becky appreciated the tunnel’s dampness on her skin. She glanced at
Butterby, who had sprayed at least a half-can of deodorant on himself, and
noticed that any colour he may have regained had once more drained from his
face.

They had been walking for about a
minute when, through the dull, eerie silence, an assortment of sounds reached
their ears; sounds they had heard earlier outside were amplified ten-fold.
Following the path as it curved right, they saw the mouth of the tunnel, and
beyond it, the contours of a city.

Memphis.

Approaching the tunnel’s mouth,
Becky felt a wave of surprise and disbelief. From the high vantage point, she
could see palaces, temples, statues, gardens and more modest sized buildings.
However, what sickened her were the high barbed wire fences that cordoned off
the entire city; giant lookout towers with electric spotlights had been erected
every few hundred metres, beaming down threateningly on the inhabitants within.
To the right hand side was an airfield with rows of planes from different eras.

Her shock increased when she saw
dozens of Associates, armed with machine guns, herding large groups of Egyptian
men through the streets, many of whom were carrying pickaxes and pushing
barrows laden with rubble.

Memphis had been turned into a vast,
open prison.

And it was being torn apart brick by
brick.

Chapter 23

The City of the Dead

Uncle Percy’s expression switched
from shock into grim determination; he nodded to himself as if giving an answer
to an unvoiced question. His stare found Will, who was equally stone-faced. ‘As
Oscar Wilde said ‘
a dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight.
’
A dark glint flashed in his eyes as they found his rucksack. ‘Do you fancy a
moonlight stroll, William?’

‘I do indeed,’ Will replied at once.

‘A stroll?’ Becky asked, puzzled.
‘What’re you two talking about?’

‘Will and I are popping out for a
spell,’ Uncle Percy replied.

‘What do you mean?’ Becky asked.
‘Where?’

Uncle Percy smiled. ‘To enjoy the
moonlight,’ he said simply.

Butterby clearly didn’t appreciate
being kept out of the loop. ‘What’s going on, Percy?’

‘Nothing to be concerned about,
Charles.’

Uncle Percy walked over to his
rucksack and picked it up. He rifled in the bag and pulled out a large parcel of
sandwiches, which he set down on the floor. ‘Here’s some supper.’ Then he slung
the bag over his shoulder.

‘Seriously, you’re leaving us?’
Becky asked, shocked.

‘Not for long,’ Uncle Percy replied.
‘But don’t wait up.’

‘Then I’m coming, too,’ Joe insisted.

‘Not this time, young man.’

Joe didn’t look happy. ‘Where’re you
goin’?’

‘As ever, Joe, the question
shouldn’t be where, but …
when
.’

‘When then?’ Joe snapped back.

Uncle Percy was about to respond
when the clatter of gunfire stopped him in his tracks. He looked at Layla, who
quivered with terror. Compassion lined his face. ‘My dear girl…’ He moved
slowly over and said in a low, kindly voice, ‘I’m sure your father is safe. The
Associates think it’s big and clever to fire their little guns from time to time
… thankfully, they’re not clever at all, and far too dimwitted to hit
anything.’

Layla forced a smile.

Uncle Percy withdrew what looked
like an overly large watch from his cloak pocket. He secured the portravella to
his wrist and pressed six numbers on its face. ‘Care to take my arm, Will?’ He
turned back to the others. ‘Now we won’t be long, so please don’t worry…’

‘I want to come,’ Joe repeated.

Will curled his rucksack over his
shoulder and whispered in Joe’s ear. ‘You must stand guard, to protect the
others. Stay alert.’

Reluctantly, Joe accepted this.
‘Okay.’

Becky looked on, confused and
anxious. Before she had a chance to say anything else, however, tentacles of
light were twisting up Uncle Percy’s arm, before extending across his and
Will’s bodies. She had just enough time to say, ‘Be safe,’ before the two men
vanished into nothingness.

Layla gave an astonished squeak as
she stared at the space where Uncle Percy and Will had been.

Becky looked helplessly on. What if
something happened to Will and Uncle Percy? What if they didn’t return? What if
she never saw them again? She looked to Butterby for reassurance, but didn’t
find any. He was wearing a very curious look, as if severely put out he hadn’t
been invited along on the mission.

Butterby felt her eyes upon him.
‘Whatever it is they’re doing,’ he said with an edge. ‘I’m sure they won’t be
long.’

Becky shuffled over to the sidewall,
pressed her back it and slithered down into a crouched position; dampness
seeped through her cloak, which she pulled close, not wishing to talk to
anyone.

The seconds became minutes. Becky
glanced at Joe, who looked equally worried. It was Layla’s turn to offer
comfort and she sat down next to Becky; not knowing what to do or say, she
curled her hand around Becky’s and waited.

As the time passed, Joe became
increasingly agitated. ‘I don’t understand. They should be back by now. If
they’re travelling in time they can set the portravella to return immediately.
Something’s wrong.’

‘Not necessarily, Joe,’ Butterby
replied. ‘Perhaps they’re completing their clandestine task in real-time. It’s
actually preferable to do that, particularly in the grand scheme of things.’

‘What do you mean?’ Joe asked.

‘Well, if you travelled back in time
and stayed in that period for, let’s say a year, then, when you return, you’re
a year older, yet no one around you would have aged at all. It’s possible you
could be on the receiving end of some very awkward questions.’

‘Oh, I never thought about that,’
Joe replied.

None of this made Becky feel any
less nervous.

Sensing Becky’s distress, Layla
rummaged around in her bag and pulled free a small timber object. ‘Touch this.
The God Bisu has blessed it. It shall bring you and your uncle good fortune.’

Becky looked down and, for a moment
at least, forgot their predicament. Painted in a sparkling white, was a tiny
sycamore figure of what looked like a young deer with an oddly shaped bump on
its forehead. She held it for a few seconds before giving it back to Layla.
‘It’s beautiful.’

‘It is my Adma, as a foal,’ Layla
replied, her hand gliding gently over the wood. ‘My father whittled it for me.
He was a carpenter when we lived in Memphis and an artist with wood. He says I
have inherited his skills, but I do not see it.’

‘I’m sure you have,’ Becky replied.
She smiled tenderly at Layla and saw there were dark, heavy circles beneath her
eyes. ‘You should get some sleep.’

‘I am tired,’ Layla replied, resting
her head against Becky’s shoulder. ‘But before I sleep will you tell me about
your home … about your time?’

‘Well, I’m from a country called
England.’     

‘And is this Eng-land as violent as
it seems?’

‘Not usually,’ Becky replied. ‘In
fact, it’s normally pretty dull.’

‘Do you work?’

‘Work?’ Becky chuckled. ‘No, I’m
still at school.’

Layla looked surprised. ‘Then you
must be very wealthy then. In Egypt, only the wealthiest of children attend
school.’

‘You’re lucky then,’ Becky quipped.

Layla didn’t get the joke. ‘You are
right … I am lucky. Although a humble man, my father is highly educated. And he
has passed much wisdom to me. Unlike other girls of my years, who are merely
taught to cook and clean and weave, I can read and write hieroglyphics. I know
about art, history, astronomy, and architecture. And I understand mathematics,
too…. I adore mathematics.’

‘Really?’ Becky said. ‘I don’t know
anyone other than Uncle Percy that likes maths. And he’s like the ultimate
dork.’

Layla looked puzzled. ‘What’s a
dork?’

‘Actually, he’s not a dork at all,’
Becky said softly. ‘He’s pretty ace.’

‘He is an educated man?’ Layla
asked.

Becky smiled. ‘You could say that.’

‘That is good. Education is a
wonderful thing. If I could, I would study all day and night, only stopping to
eat and drink. I would absorb knowledge like a camel devours water. I am
certain you enjoy your schooling, do you not?’

Becky hesitated for a moment.
Layla’s passion for education was so sincere, so heartfelt, she felt slightly ashamed.
‘I don’t try hard enough at school, if I’m honest. At least, I didn’t. I’m
trying to do better.’

‘Why did you not try?’

‘I found it all bit naff, really,’
Becky replied honestly. ‘But I’m changing. I s’pose that’s one of the things
that’s wrong with my time. I mean, we’ve got some awesome things – the net,
mobile phones, laptops, hair straighteners, pot noodles - ’ She could see Layla
hadn’t a clue what she was talking about … ‘but you end up taking it all for
granted. I know I did. I s’pose one thing I’ve learnt from travelling is not to
do that so much. Uncle Percy never takes anything for granted.’

‘I don’t understand.’

Becky’s brow creased as she
considered her answer. ‘Well, sometimes I see him looking at the night sky or a
sunset or a flower or a really old building - nothing special, just stuff you’d
see everyday - yet sometimes it’s like he’s never seen anything like it before.
He’s been time travelling for years, seen everything there is to see, but he
still looks at the simplest, most ordinary things as if it’s his first time.’
Her voice was full of admiration. ‘In many ways, he’s the biggest kid I’ve ever
met. He’s also the most grown-up adult I know, if that makes sense.’

‘He seems like a good man.’

‘He’s the best.’

‘And he will help me find my
father?’

Becky gave a firm nod. ‘If he says
he’ll do something, he’ll do it. I promise.’

Layla smiled and closed her eyes.
‘Thank you.’

Within seconds, Becky heard Layla’s
breathing deepen as she drifted into sleep. It was only then she noticed that Edgar
and Joe were cuddled up together in a deep sleep too. Closing her eyes, she
tried to empty her mind, but visions of Uncle Percy and Will surfaced again and
again. Where were they? When were they? What were they doing? She had been
sitting there for what seemed like hours, restless and fidgety, when she heard
Butterby’s low voice. ‘Can’t sleep either, eh?’

‘No,’ Becky replied.

‘Me neither. At my age I need a soft
bed,’ Butterby said, his face pitched in half-shadow from the moonlight. ‘I
can’t sleep on this hard ground.’

‘I know what you mean.’

‘Can I ask you something?’ Butterby
said.

‘Sure.’

‘How long have you been able to move
things? With your mind, I mean.’ He could see at once that Becky was startled
by his question. ‘It’s quite all right. Your uncle told me all about it.’

‘It first happened in the summer
with the Golden Fleece. It happened again when George Chapman tried to kill me.
It seems to happen when I’m in danger or really want something.’

‘And have you acquired any other,
err, gifts?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You tell me. Have you developed any
other
powers
?’

‘I’m not an X-man!’ Becky snapped
back at Butterby, who clearly had no idea what she meant. ‘Its freaky enough I
can move stuff every now and again. I don’t want to develop anything else.’

‘Of course not,’ Butterby replied
apologetically. ‘I didn’t mean to offend. It’s just fascinating. I’ve only ever
met one genuine telekinetic before, and that was a very long time ago.’

Becky was suddenly interested. ‘Who
was that?’

‘No one you’d know,’ Butterby
replied. ‘However, although their telekinesis initially occurred on very
sporadic occasions, much like yours, in time, they learned to harness it … to
control it, and employ it wherever and whenever they wanted.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes. I imagine it could prove quite
a useful talent.’

‘Well, you’re welcome to it. I don’t
want to be a circus freak.’

Butterby smiled. ‘You’re not a
freak, dear. You’re a very special young lady.’

Becky shuddered at the compliment.
‘Don’t say that. It’s what Emerson Drake called me at the GITT Christmas party,
just before he unleashed a prehistoric shark on all of us.’

Butterby looked guilty. ‘Oh, I am
sorry. I didn’t realise. You’re a remarkable young woman then. Is that better?’

‘Loads,’ Becky grinned.

‘And I want you to know how much I
admire your father. We didn’t always see eye to eye - he could be quite a
stubborn soul from time to time - but I never doubted his character or his
courage. From what I hear you’re very similar.’

Becky chuckled. ‘So everyone keeps
telling me.’ The words had only just left her mouth when a bead of light
appeared just far enough away from the tunnel’s entrance for it not to be
visible from the outside. Her heart soared. The light stretched outwards,
before vanishing with a
snap
to leave Uncle Percy and Will standing
there, their rucksacks considerably emptier than before, their faces mottled
with mud, sweat and sand.

The noise made Joe, Edgar and Layla
wake with a jolt.

‘We’re back,’ Uncle Percy announced
happily.

Becky scrambled to her feet, sped
over and embraced him.

‘What a lovely welcome back,’ Uncle
Percy said, returning the hug twofold. ‘I’ll have to go away more often.’

‘Are you okay?’ Becky asked.

‘We’re fine. Aren’t we, Will?’

‘Indeed we are.’

‘Where’ve you been?’ Joe asked,
yawning.

Uncle Percy and Will exchanged
knowing looks. ‘Hopefully putting a little flame to Drake’s yuletide candle.’

‘What do you mean?’ Butterby asked
at once, eyes narrowing. ‘What kind of flame?’

‘Oh, you’ll see, Charles,’ Uncle
Percy replied. ‘I don’t want to ruin the surprise.’ He walked over to the
tunnel’s edge, pulled out his Amnoculars and trained them to the west of the
city. ‘Edgar, Saquarra covers an area of around seven kilometres, is there
anyway you can pinpoint the precise location of the Tauri Stones?’