The Curse of the King (28 page)

“Marco, get down now!” I said.

“Yeah, I was thinking the same thing!”
Marco managed to grab a sturdier root with his free hand, then dig his feet into the wall. In a few seconds, he was heading steadily downward.

Aly turned back to her screen. “Okay, good news, guys.
The Massa have a limited-range VPN, which means probably some sort of satellite rig accessing a small part of the broadband spectrum. If I use command-line code to avoid the GUI, I think I can exploit security holes in the back end and avoid detection, at least temporarily.”

Cass and I looked over her shoulder. “And the English translation?” Cass said.

“I'm able to hack into their system,” Aly said, typing lines of code into a black screen, “including the surveillance network. I'm trying to locate the video feeds from those cameras they planted in the jungle. Maybe one of them will let us see our location. And we'll identify what just happened. The problem is, everything's labeled randomly. Hang on, I'll scroll through them . . .”

The lines of code vanished, and eight small images appeared. All of them were practically pitch-black—except for the scene in the lower left, which showed a flash of bright orange.

Aly clicked on it. The image filled the screen, showing the black cone of Mount Onyx against the gray sky—and a plume of smoke rising from flames near the top of the volcano.

She zoomed in. Flaming chunks of airplane wreckage dotted the bushes. Above them, the outline of a small tail section emerged from a cluster of trees, ringed by flame. It looked exactly like the planes I'd seen overhead while we were outside Routhouni.

I was staring so closely at the wreck, I almost didn't notice a small gray shadow moving through the nearby trees.

“Is that a person?” I asked.

“Unless a gorilla flew the plane,” Aly said.

“Possible, considering the landing technique,” Cass said.

Now the whole group was gathered around Aly, including the gravediggers—and Marco, covered with dirt.

“Pay attention.” Aly zoomed as close as she could on the small, moving blotch. But it wasn't going downward. “It's
climbing
.”

“Is not gorilla,” Torquin grumbled.

“Is there a camera at the top of the volcano?” Cass asked.

Nirvana shook her head. “There were three. But we destroyed them.”

“How about on the sides?” Aly began typing in more commands. “Okay. I'm picking up feeds from a couple of locations on the volcano slope . . . hang on . . .”

As Aly clicked, three completely black images showed on her laptop screen. She was about to click away from them when I thought I saw a small movement in the middle one. “Hold it. On that one. Can you adjust the brightness?”

Aly clicked on the middle image. It filled the screen. With a few more clicks, she managed to make the blackness a lot lighter, but it was extremely grainy. “This is the best I can do. The moonlight helps.”

I leaned closer. A silvery figure was making its way
slowly up the side of the mountain. Definitely human. And quickly passing upward and out of the frame.

“Let me access the camera's remote motion control,” Aly said. “I think I can swivel it.”

The image vibrated as the camera began to turn. For a long moment everything was a blur, until the lens pointed directly up the slope.

The tree cover was sparse, the flat summit of Mount Onyx visible at the top. The moon must have been directly over the frame, because the figure was using the light to climb. There was no doubt now that it was a man.

We watched silently as he hauled himself over the rim of Mount Onyx, where he stood to full height. A leather sack, cinched with rope, was slung over his shoulders. Silhouetted by the moon, he turned in the direction of the camera, and I got a good view of a few characteristics.

Thick beard. Bare calves. Sandals.

“I don't believe this . . .” I murmured under my breath.

As the man glanced over the island below, he threw back his head and opened his mouth wide. From above us, we heard a muffled cry that echoed a fraction of a second later through the video feed:

“ATLAAANNNNTIS!”

“If I'm dreaming, someone kick me awake,” Aly said. “And if not—ladies and gentlemen, meet Zeus.”

“Zeus?”
Nirvana said.

“How did he get here?” Cass asked.

“Wait,” Marco said. “Did you say
Zeus
? Like the god of all awesomeness who never really existed but they made a statue of him at Olympia which became one of the Seven Wonders?
That
Zeus?”

“While you were babysitting rug rats, we found that statue, Marco,” Aly said. “It has the fourth Loculus. Which I'm willing to bet is in his sack.”

“Who are you calling a rug rat?” Eloise shouted.

“But . . . it's a statue!” Marco said. “Since when do statues fly planes?”

“Since when do statues rise out of rock piles, and ancient civilizations hang out across rivers, and zombies frolic underground?” Cass asked. “Since when do normal kids develop superpowers?”

“Good point,” Marco said.

We looked closely at the bushy beard, the angular face with its straight nose and close-cropped hair. No question that it was the creature that had chased us in Routhouni.

But he was reminding me of someone else, too.

“The face in the tapestry . . .” I said.

“The who?” Marco asked.

“Back in the labyrinth,” I said. “There was a portrait. It was the same face.”

“A portrait of Zeus,” Aly drawled. “How original.”

“You don't understand,” I replied. “This guy is not Zeus.”

Aly and Nirvana peeled their eyes from the screen. They, Cass, Marco, and Eloise looked at me as if I'd grown antlers. “Um, Jack, if you recall, the statue moved from Olympia,” Aly said. “We saw proof. It had a Loculus.”

“My dream . . .” I said. “It's all making sense now. I was Massarym. The king had put a curse on me and I cursed him back.”

Nirvana looked at Aly, jacking a thumb in my direction. “Has he gotten this weird just recently?”

“The statue was a big hunk of marble,” I went on. “And somehow I—I mean, Massarym—was able to cast him inside it.”

“Jack, what does that have to do with this?” Aly said.

I put my hand on the screen, where the man was walking to the edge of the caldera, looking down.

Looking toward us.

“Massarym imprisoned his own father in stone—turned him into a statue,” I said. “That statue isn't Zeus. It's the king of Atlantis.”

“B
ROTHER
J
ACK, HAVE
you been inhaling too much Heptakiklos gas?” Marco asked. “I mean, the statue was official. The Statue of Zeus. So if it wasn't really him, wouldn't people see the face and wonder, hey, why is this other guy's face on the statue?”

Aly dropped her head into her hands. “Zeus is mythological, Marco! No one knew what he looked like!”

“In Greece, no one knew what King Uhla'ar looked like either,” I pointed out. “So Massarym could call the statue whatever he wanted.”

No one said a word. On the screen, Uhla'ar was disappearing from the frame. Downward.

We looked up. Way at the top of the caldera, barely
visible in the moonlight, a tiny black shadow made its way toward us.

“By the blood of Karai, what does he want from us?” Nirvana added.

“How did he get hold of a plane—and fly it?” Eloise asked.

“How could he be alive at all?” Aly asked.

“So . . . is actually
Uhla'ar
statue, not Zeus statue?” Torquin said.

“Personally, I am finding this hard to follow,” Marco said.

“I don't know why he's here!”
I said. “All I know is that we found the statue in some cheesy village in Greece, where he spent the last few decades watching TV.”

Marco spun toward me. “Okay, so the way I'm seeing it, this is great, right? You said this thing had a fourth Loculus. That's . . . ewoksapoppin'! Wait. What's the word, Cass?”

“Emosewa,” Cass piped up.

“Emosewa,” Marco said. “The guy is handing it to us!”

A small shower of rocks and soil fell from above, crashing to the ground in a small cloud. Nirvana shone her flashlight upward. The light barely reached the top, just enough to silhouette the king as his sandaled feet dug into the sides of the caldera.

“Yo!” Marco called up. “'Sup, King Ooh!”

“He doesn't understand!” Aly said.

“Sorry,” Marco replied. “Lo! Greetings, yonder king! What a big Loculus thou hast. Canst we holdeth it?”

In response, Uhla'ar plucked a rock from the soil and flung it downward.

“King does not come in peace,” Torquin said.

“By the way, Marco, there's one problem,” Cass said. “It's the Loculus of Strength. Just in case you're planning to tie him up like a vromaski.”

Eloise was trembling. “Maybe I could try biting him?”

The king descended slowly, the Loculus sack bouncing on his back, and I had an idea. “I don't know why he's here, but something tells me he's not going to give up that Loculus. Marco, if we get him to drop it, could you catch it?”

Marco smiled. “If it's not falling fast enough to burn in the atmosphere, yeah, it's mine.”

My eyes darted toward a pile of Karai equipment against the wall, stuff the rebels had managed to salvage. I ran over, quickly rummaging through coils of wire, sections of rubber hose, tools, and metal frames.

There.

I pulled out a small Y-shaped pipe riddled with holes along each side. It looked like part of an old sprinkler. I never thought that in a tropical rain forest the Karai would have to use sprinklers.

Grabbing a length of rubber hose, I quickly tied one end to each section of the Y.

Perfect slingshot.

“David?” I said, handing it to Marco along with a baseball-sized rock.

Marco looked at it blankly for a second, then smiled. “Ohhhhh, I got it . . .” Nestling the rock into the hose, he held the contraption upward, pointing it at Uhla'ar. Then he pulled the hose back . . . back . . . “Right upside Goliath's head, Brother,” he said.

As he let go, the rock hurtled into the darkness.

I could hear the dull
thwock
on the back of Uhla'ar's head. The old man let out a cry of surprise, then turned his face toward us and shouted in obvious anger. I couldn't hear what he was saying, but in Nirvana's flashlight beam I could see him swinging the sack around. He was cradling the Loculus like a football, as if he were trying to protect it. I could now see that the sack had been cut in several places, like preslashed jeans. Which meant his fingers were in contact with the object inside.

“What do you guys think you're doing?” Aly said, racing toward us. “You want to kill him?”

“The guy's Teflon,” Marco said. “He survived a bazillion years.”

“You're just getting him angrier!” Aly said. “What if he's here to help? What if he wants to return the Loculus to the Heptakiklos?”

Using his free hand, Uhla'ar was moving like a spider,
clutching tree roots with his fingers, leaping from one foothold to the other with perfect precision. Like a dancer on steroids.

Marco dropped the slingshot. “Holy mutation. He's climbing down with one hand. Who does he think he is—
me
?”

We all backed off. In a few moments, King Uhla'ar landed on the caldera floor with a solid thud. He faced Marco, his eyes red and accusing.

“'Sup, Spidey?” Marco said.

As he walked forward, his hands still tucked into the slashes of the sack, Uhla'ar glared at us silently. “What's with his eyes?” Marco said. “They're all swirly.”

“He's not human!” Aly said.

“Does he understand English?” Marco asked.

“He's been watching lots of TV,” I replied.

“Okay, that makes total sense,” Marco said.

Aly stepped forward toward Uhla'ar. “Greetings, O Great King of Atlantis, trapped cruelly in stone and now released just in time to restore the Loculi to their rightful places. We greet thee with joyful open arms.”

“Get to the point,” Cass hissed.

Holding the sack tightly, the king turned slowly to Aly. His eyes were like small torches. He didn't react to her words, but instead began walking directly toward her, as if she weren't there.

She jumped away. Uhla'ar was heading straight for the center of the caldera.

For the Heptakiklos.

In my ears, the Song was like a scream now. I could see Uhla'ar shaking his head, hesitating. He must have been hearing it, too. Aly's face was creased with worry, but Cass put an arm around her. “He's putting it back,” Cass said.