Oracles of Delphi Keep (39 page)

To his right he noticed Perry helping the professor away from the approaching spike wall. Ian’s vision swam again and he closed his eyes and rubbed the back of his head, where an egg-sized lump was forming. When he opened his eyes again, Theo was at his left foot, lifting the cuff of his trouser to inspect his leg wound.

“It’s not very deep,” she said, her face relieved. “But I’ll expect you’ll want to clean it as quickly as possible.”

Ian blinked hard. He was having trouble taking all this in. Behind him he became aware of the unmistakable sound of surf rolling in and out. He was also confused by the odd feeling of sand underneath him. He could feel its cool, yielding texture beneath his fingers. “What’s happened?” he mumbled.

Theo looked at him with eyes that made her seem much older than she was. “I followed the prophecy,” she said, and when Ian stared at her blankly, she added, “I asked and the wall opened.”

Ian scrunched his face up in confusion. “You …
asked
?” he said.

Theo nodded but her attention was diverted by Thatcher, who was laying Carl down on the ground next to them. “He’s fine,” said the schoolmaster when he saw their concerned faces. “He just fainted.”

But Ian could see a small red wound at the base of Carl’s throat and knew that one of the spikes had barely missed killing him. A moment later, Perry and the professor dropped to the ground, safely out of the way of the advancing ice wall. “I can’t believe this is happening,” Perry panted, turning around to see the spikes still creeping forward. Ian gulped when he realized they were clearly long enough now to have impaled him if the rock wall hadn’t given way.

His eyes roved the floor of the cavern, where the remains of the Phoenician soldier were now being pushed along the ground by the icy spikes.

“We’ve got a few minutes before we’ll need to move again,” said Thatcher, eyeing the advancing ice warily. “Can you walk?” he asked Ian.

Ian nodded. “Yes, sir, I can …” His voice trailed off when something else, too spectacular to be real, happened. The advancing ice was abruptly halted and the tips of all the spikes were completely sheared off with a loud crunching sound as the tunnel wall suddenly reappeared in front of them. Ian wouldn’t have believed his eyes if it weren’t for the dozens of pieces of ice that were now dropping to the cavern floor.

“Extraordinary!”
the professor gasped.

Ian thought that summed it up nicely.

“Wha …?” said Carl, coming out of his faint. “Am I dead?” he asked, his eyes fluttering as he tried to focus on Theo hovering above him. “Mummy?”

“You’re fine,” said Theo gently, and her face softened into a smile. “We’re all safe.”

Perry got to his feet and approached the rock wall with trepidation. His brother and the professor followed. Ian waited to make sure his friend was all right before wobbling to his feet and limping to the wall himself.

He stepped carefully among the many shards of ice resting in the sand and stopped in front of the wall, reaching up to touch it in disbelief. The rock felt cool and a bit wet. He looked at the ground and noticed with relief that his pocket torch had made it safely. He bent over to retrieve it and pointed the beam at the wall, then gasped when he realized that within the pores of the rock were icy crystals.

“Ian!” said Thatcher, next to him. “Look at that!” Ian turned to see the left leg of the skeleton and the heel bone of the right leg firmly ensconced within the rock.

“Unbelievable!” he gasped.

“My rifle!” exclaimed Perry, on the other side of Thatcher. He was bent low, running his fingers along the silhouette of the gun sticking oddly out of the rock, which seemed to have molded itself around the weapon like fresh cement that had already hardened.

“Extraordinary!” breathed the professor again. “I can hardly believe this is real!”

“Well, of course it’s not real,” said Perry, standing up and stepping back from the wall. “It’s all a dream!”

Ian looked doubtfully at his schoolmaster. “Whose dream, exactly, sir?” he asked.

Perry blinked awkwardly at him. “Well … mine, of course!” he said firmly.

“Then how can I be having the same dream?” Ian asked rationally.

“And I?” said Thatcher.

“You might as well include me too,” said the professor.

Perry looked round at them all and threw up his hands. “Poppycock!” he said. “I’m dreaming that you’re asking me this.” He turned to his brother. “Pinch me,” he instructed. “I’ll need to wake up immediately.”

Thatcher raised his eyebrows skeptically but reached forward and gave his twin a good pinch. When Perry yelped, Thatcher asked, “Are you awake now?”

“Bah!” was Perry’s answer as he stomped back toward Carl and Theo, then plopped to the ground and rested his chin on his fist, glaring at his brother.

Ian thought he resembled one of the orphan boys at the keep who was always pouting when he didn’t get his way. Meanwhile, the professor had turned his attention to the sound of the surf behind them. “Time to explore our surroundings,” he said.

Ian and Thatcher nodded, and as they turned, Ian realized abruptly that the sound of the waves crashing was coming from the wrong direction. He placed his hand on Thatcher’s sleeve and said, “Sir, doesn’t the strait hit the shore from the opposite direction?”

Thatcher stopped in his tracks and looked from Ian to the entrance of the tunnel, where the clear sound of the surf
was reverberating along the walls. Ian noticed the worried frown on his face. “Yes,” he said slowly. “You’re quite right, Ian. The strait should be behind us.”

Ian looked toward the entrance. “And have you noticed how unnaturally warm that breeze is?” he asked. A salty but decidedly humid breeze was swirling within their cavern.

Thatcher squinted into the light of the entrance. Not much could be seen besides sand and rocks. “Come along,” he said. “Let’s find out exactly
where
we are.”

When Thatcher, the professor, and Ian stepped out into the brilliant sunshine, Ian blinked furiously, trying to get his eyes to adjust. Finally, the glare subsided, and with a hand over his brow, he was able to look around.

Ahead of him was a brilliant blue sea, which, he determined immediately, was not the Strait of Dover. This sea was a deeper blue than the murky gray waters of the channel. When he looked up, he saw with surprise that it was a cloudless day; gone were the storm clouds that had brought them snow earlier. He next focused on the horizon and he realized that no sign of France could be seen on the endless blue waves.

To his left was a huge wall of rock that cut the beach off and jutted into the water. The cavern they’d just come out of lay within this wall, which continued up a slope and a high cliff overhead.

To his right and down the beach was another outcropping of rock, but this one appeared not as steep or as formidable. “Where
are
we?” he asked the professor and Thatcher.

“Impossible!” exclaimed the professor, and Ian saw that the old man was staring at the distant outcropping.

“What isn’t possible exactly?” asked Thatcher with exasperation. “That we’re clearly not in Dover or that in all probability we’re not even in
England
?”

“That outcropping,” whispered the professor, pointing. “I know those rocks.”

“You
know
them?” asked Ian. “You mean you’ve been here before?”

The professor scratched his chin and shook his head, staring at the outcropping with a faraway look. “Do you see that bridge-looking part there, where those rocks meet that flat section?”

Thatcher and Ian squinted toward the boulders. “Yes,” said Ian.

“That’s called the Mother’s Cradle and I once spent an entire evening nestled there upon those very rocks.”

Ian turned to the professor, amazed and relieved that the old man seemed to know where they were. “When?” he asked.

“Forty years ago,” said the professor.

“The larger question is,
where
?” said Thatcher. “Professor, where are we?”

Professor Nutley’s eyes seemed to linger fondly on the outcropping. “Larache,” he murmured.

Ian frowned. He didn’t recognize the name, but his schoolmaster did.

“Morocco?”
Thatcher gasped.

“Indeed,” said the professor.

“But … but … but …,” stammered Thatcher. “That’s … that’s …
impossible!”

“Apparently not, my good man,” the professor said.

“Would you look at that?” they heard behind them, and they all turned to see Carl in the entrance of the cavern. He held the bronze and silver short sword out in front of him while he gazed in wonder at the big blue sea.

A moment later Theo appeared, followed by Perry. The three joined them on the beach, Carl still transfixed by the beautiful water rolling in and out. “Where are we?” he asked.

“If you believe the professor,” said Thatcher, “Morocco.”

His brother’s jaw dropped and Ian noticed that he seemed a bit peaked. “I’m hallucinating,” said Perry, and he plopped into the sand again.

“Morocco?” asked Carl. “How’d we get here?”

“Through the portal, of course,” said Theo, and all eyes swiveled to her. “Just like the prophecy suggested.”

Ian dug into his coat pocket and pulled out the professor’s translation. “‘Go beyond Caphiera’s reach, the first such place upon the beach. A quest of six and no less few, to find the Seeker, young and true. Seeker leads you to the Star, vital to your journeys far.’”

Perry looked up at them, blinking in confusion. “What’s all this business about Seekers and Stars?” he asked.

Again, Theo spoke as if she understood Laodamia’s riddle perfectly. “We must find the young boy with the mark of a diamond on his right hand. He will lead us to the Star of Licorice.”

Perry blinked twice more before breaking into hysterical laughter. “Oh, my!” said the schoolmaster, slapping the sand next to him. “I’m not hallucinating! I’ve gone
completely
mad!”

“Wait,” said the professor, and Ian noticed he didn’t
seem amused or skeptical, but genuinely interested. “What did you say about the Star, young lady?”

“The boy with the mark will help us find it,” she said confidently.

“Yes, I heard that part,” said the professor patiently “But what did you call it, again?”

“The Star of Licorice,” she said, and Ian scowled at Carl, who was covering his mouth to hide his own giggle.

“I don’t believe it,” whispered the professor as he again stared off in the direction of the Mother’s Cradle.

“Well, that’s the name I heard in my head,” said Theo with a small stomp of her foot. “It might sound ridiculous to you lot, but that’s what it’s called!”

Ian reached around her shoulders and gave her a gentle squeeze. “I believe you, Theo,” he said, and she smiled gratefully at him.

“Oh, make no mistake,” said the professor. “I
do
believe you, Miss Fields. I’m just amazed that I didn’t see it sooner.”

“See what sooner, Professor?” Ian asked.

The old man had that faraway look in his eyes again. “Forty years ago I came here to the city of Larache, following an old Phoenician legend,” he said. “There is an ancient city north of here on the banks of the Loukkos River. In its prime,” the professor continued, “the city was a massive place, filled with culture and trade and completely controlled by the Phoenicians from about the seventh century BC until they were defeated by the Carthaginians and later the Romans. Around 400 BC, when the city was still in Phoenician hands, and defeat by Carthage looked
imminent, the ruling general at that time, a man named Adrastus, hid a trove of priceless gemstones and gold coins somewhere in the city.

“Legend has it that amongst the gemstones was a very large five-pointed opal in the shape of a star. It was said that he who carried this priceless gem would be a stranger in no land; all would welcome him and a king in the making would become its rightful owner. This opal was named the Star of Lixus, after the city where it was discovered.”

“That’s
it!”
squealed Theo.
“That’s
the name I heard, but it sounded like ‘licorice!’”

The professor nodded. “I came here in 1897 to excavate the city, whose ruins had just been discovered. My real motivation, however, was to locate the treasure that Adrastus had hidden and to unearth the Star of Lixus.”

“Did you find any of the treasure?” asked Ian, feeling a newfound respect for Professor Nutley, who he hadn’t known was a real, live treasure hunter.

The professor turned back to the rocks at the far end of the beach, looking crestfallen. “No,” he said softly, “though I did give it a bloody good go. I ran out of funding, and because we hadn’t discovered anything of value on our dig, my financial backers pulled out and we were ordered back to England. The night before our ship departed, I spent a very lonely evening up on those rocks, contemplating my failure. The next day, when the sun rose, I endeavored to put it out of my mind for good. After all, we’d excavated a good portion of the lost city; I’d gotten enough material to finish my paper; and I’d learned much in the process. And so I did
manage to put thoughts of finding the Star out of my mind for the next forty years—that is, until you mentioned it, lass.”

Theo beamed up at the professor, and Ian was incredibly grateful to the man for what he’d said.

“Yes, well, I’m afraid that we have a much larger issue than locating some lost gemstone,” said Thatcher, and he glanced back at the cavern. “How are we to get home?”

All heads turned toward the cavern and a heavy silence fell upon the group. “Maybe if we stay here for a bit, the wall will open back up,” suggested Carl.

“And right behind it is Caphiera’s wall of spikes,” said Ian, shaking his head. “Even if we were able to get past
that
, there’s no telling if she’s still there or not.”

“Quite right,” said Thatcher with a shiver. “I’ll be glad never to encounter the likes of her again.”

“Poor Searle,” Theo said sadly, and Ian again felt a pang of guilt slice through him.

But Carl quickly put things into perspective when he said, “I can’t feel sorry for him. I mean, it’s like Lady Arbuthnot said: Searle made his choice and met the consequences. He chose to do Caphiera’s bidding, and we all know what would have happened to Theo if he’d gotten her away from us. I say, better him than her.”