Curse of the Ancients (3 page)

Dak found himself crossing back over the white road, toward a large domed building a little ways off. It looked like an observatory. He cupped a hand against his forehead to keep the rain out of his eyes. It was so hot and humid he was almost thankful to be wearing a breechcloth. It was actually keeping him fairly cool and allowed for occasional drafts that proved tremendously refreshing. What if he started rocking one of these bad boys in the present? Would it catch on? He pictured all his bros in fifth grade wearing them, too. Sitting around the caf, talking. Lining up for assemblies. Eventually they’d run a nice profile piece on him in the school paper next to the caption
Dak Smyth, more than your ordinary history genius.

Then he remembered one very important fact:

He didn’t really have any bros.

Unless he counted Sera — which he decided he did.

Dak tried all the doors of the observatory, but they were locked. He was surprised by the size of the building. According to his research on Mesoamerican civilizations, the Maya were curious about astrology. And art. And music. But they didn’t have the technology for anything overly refined — for instance, they probably weren’t spreading their cheese onto TriSQuits.

Thunder crashed so loud overhead, Dak flinched. The rain started falling harder, too, and at an odd angle.

Dak knew he should hurry back to the others, get out of the brewing storm, but just then he spotted a narrow opening in the observatory wall, like a small glassless window. He moved toward it and peered inside, the rain raking down his back. It was dark inside, except for a few candles that burned near the far wall of the large room. Next to this wall, which had a large painting of a tree, were three older men kneeling on the floor, writing on a massive sheet of a paper-like material. The thing was longer than they were tall.

Then, on the floor beside them, Dak spotted something else. A colorful mask. The kind a clown might wear. Dak immediately thought of the riddle. Maybe there was some kind of connection. And then Dak considered something else. Something potentially incredible. What if these men were working on the Great Mayan Codex? He knew there were probably many codices, a type of book, produced during this era. But his heart sped up anyway. Because everything around him made him think he was in the seventh century. And that meant it was possible that he was witnessing the composition of one of the most revered texts in all of history.

Dak pounded on the wall, so excited he was having trouble breathing. As soon as the men looked up, though, he thought better of it and ducked out of sight. Because if the authors of the Great Mayan Codex had prophesized that the SQ would one day come along and save all mankind, it was possible that the authors themselves were SQ. Or even a group of Time Wardens, whom the SQ had positioned throughout history to protect their agenda from meddling time travelers . . . like Dak.

He crouched there for several long minutes, trying to think.

Rain pummeled his entire body, puddling around his knees and elbows.

He finally pushed away from the observatory and sprinted back across the road. He had to go tell Riq and Sera about the clown mask. And the codex. Even if they didn’t deserve to know.

When Dak finally rounded the stone wall and spotted his friends, he stopped in his tracks. “
No,
” he said under his breath.

Riq and Sera were surrounded by three thuggish-looking Mayas, one of whom was holding the Infinity Ring in his grimy hands.

T
HE RAIN
was pounding down so hard against the thin, metallic overhang, Riq was having trouble hearing the man standing directly in front of him. “I’m sorry, Itchik,” he interrupted. “How far did you say your home is from here?”

As the man was answering, Riq caught a small blur racing toward them out of the corner of his eye. He turned to get a better look, and mumbled under his breath, “Dak?”

“Nobody messes with my friends!” Dak shouted just before launching himself at the man holding the Infinity Ring. They both fell to the ground, and the Ring went flying through the air. Riq instinctively dove out into the rain to try to catch it, but the Ring landed just beyond his reach with a thud.

“The Ring!” Sera screamed.

Riq quickly scooped it up and looked it over. It was slightly dented on one side and muddy. The screen was blank. He watched Sera position herself between Dak and the man he’d just attacked. “What in the name of mincemeat do you think you’re doing?” she asked.

“Protecting you guys,” Dak said.

“
Protecting
us? From what?”

“These Mayan Time Wardens!” Dak pointed at the three men.

Sera slapped a hand against her forehead.

Riq ducked back under the overhang, dripping wet. “They came out here to help us, not hurt us!” he shouted at Dak over the storm. “Itchik here was just offering to lead us to shelter.”

“And how do you know it’s not a trap?” Dak shouted back.

Itchik turned to Riq with a look of confusion. “What does the small boy mean ‘a trap’?”

Riq sighed. “Honestly, it’s best if you just ignore the small boy,” he said.

Violent thunder echoed through the entire village.

“The storm!” one of the other Mayan men shouted over the increasing winds. “It is nearing the village! We must go inside immediately!”

“Please,” Itchik said. “Come with us.”

Riq handed the Ring back to Sera, who looked it over. “Well, let’s hope it still works,” she said, slipping it back into her satchel.

Riq and Sera were both staring at Dak.

“What?” he said.

The noise of the storm made it impossible to communicate.

Everyone kept quiet as the Mayas led Riq, Sera, and Dak through the bustling village. Many people seemed to be headed in the opposite direction, which worried Riq. Maybe they were following the wrong men. But when they stopped in front of an especially large stone hut, he saw other groups of Mayan families hunkering down in neighboring huts, too.

Itchik and his men quickly unlatched the front door and stepped inside, motioning for Riq and the others to enter.

“But we’re sopping wet,” Riq said, indicating his dripping, muddy clothes and the puddles forming around his feet.

“This does not matter,” Itchik said. “Please, you must join us inside.”

As they wrung out their clothes by the door, Riq peered around the inside of the hut. He trusted Itchik and his friends, but he also couldn’t shake the memory of what had happened in 1850, when SQ slave traders had masqueraded as Hystorian allies. His eyes went immediately to a cluster of Mayas huddled together in the middle of the room, singing. Based on the lyrics, Riq gathered that their song was directed at some type of rain god. He studied their faces, which showed both fear and awe for the storm.

A girl around his age suddenly turned and met his eyes. She was still singing with everyone else, but he noticed a slight raise at the corners of her mouth. This subtle smile made him feel that he was safe inside the hut. But it also made him feel something else. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

The girl turned back to the group just as Dak whispered, “Guys, listen to me. I don’t think they’re Time Wardens.”

Sera patted him on the back. “Whatever gives you that idea, Dak? Is it because that’s what we just told you outside? Or is it the fact that they basically rescued us from a tropical storm?”

“And brought us into their home,” Riq added.

Dak frowned at Riq and turned back to Sera. “Look, I’m sorry I damaged the Ring, okay? But I saw these guys huddled around you, and one of them was holding the Ring, and I just sort of freaked.”

Sera sighed. “Don’t worry, we’ll fix it,” she said. “I’ll fix it.”

“At least I figured out what time we’re in,” Dak said. “Approximately. We’re definitely in the seventh century, not 1562. We were off by less than a millennium.”

“That part is my fault,” Sera whispered. “Although I’m not sure what I did wrong.”

“I’m still not convinced landing here was a mistake,” Riq replied. “Maybe there’s something important happening here, too. Like, what if this storm is somehow connected to the riddle?”

“Oh, oh, oh.” Dak was suddenly so excited he was jumping up and down. “I meant to tell you guys. I saw something important inside the observatory. You won’t believe this. Seriously.”

“Go on,” Sera said. “Spit it out.”

But before Dak could say another word, Itchik clapped his hands together and called to them. “Friends, please join us in our small ceremony. We are asking the gods not to wash away our crops. And for a safe passage here for our neighbors from Calakmul, who are to come and study our discoveries.”

Riq motioned for Sera and Dak to follow him toward the middle of the room. As they walked, Dak said softly, “I’ll tell you guys about the observatory later. It could be part of the riddle, though. Also, I have a new theory about these people. I think they might be Hystorians.”

“They’re not Hystorians,” Riq said, turning around.

“How do you know?”

“We sort of asked them already,” Sera said. “Indirectly, of course.”

Dak shook his head. “No, I definitely think they’re Hystorians. Why else would they be so much nicer than the history books portray them?”

Riq tuned out of the rest of Dak and Sera’s whispered conversation. He was too busy testing a theory of his own. He stared at the Mayan girl who had smiled at him, willing her to turn and look at him one more time. He needed to see how he reacted.

It took a few seconds, but she finally did turn to him, still singing, and looked directly into his eyes. And she gave him another smile, too — a real one this time.

Riq’s suspicions were confirmed.

The second their eyes locked, that strange feeling returned to his stomach. It was almost like a Remnant, but better, somehow. A good kind of queasiness. What did it mean? Whatever the answer, it was unlike anything Riq had ever felt before.