Into Tordon Page 5

  He leapt back as the monster became a mass of whirling tentacles, slowly cutting off any escape. They backed toward the whirlpool.

  ‘Go for the eyes!’ DaveT shouted. ‘At least if it’s blinded, we can retreat!’

  Retreat sounded good. Though as DaveT rushed forward, the huge creature dodged and one of its tentacles slipped into the pool. The tentacle melted where it touched the water, releasing a strong stench of burning electricity. Both the creature’s mouths widened in an ear-wrenching shriek.

  ‘Look!’ Zane pointed with his sword. ‘The water hurts it!’

  It pulled its shrivelled tentacle out of the pool, and backed away from the waterhole. Nothing grew back in the tentacle’s place.

  ‘Herd it into the water!’ Beth yelled, splashing water at the creature until it let them past.

  Zane charged at it, trying to drive it towards the whirlpool, but its sharp sickle-fingers came in fast and slashed across his chest.

  ‘Argh!’ he cried, dropping to his knees and clutching the deep wound. Blood ran through his fingers.

  ‘No!’ screamed Beth, driving her sword deep into its side, though from the wound emerged sharp horns. This was impossible!

  It shifted around to face her, its talons catching on DaveT, giving him a horrible gash across his back. He lurched to one side, then tumbled straight into the whirlpool. It flashed white and he was gone.

  ‘DaveT!’ Beth yelled, gripping her sword harder. Zane was still lying on the ground. It was down to her. She had to get it into the water—but how? Blood attracts it, she remembered. ‘Zane!’ she yelled, ‘get in the water!’

  ‘It’s a whirlpool, Beth!’

  ‘I know!’ She crept back towards Zane, eyeing the creature as it followed. ‘But DaveT said the water has healing powers and he called the Hupuleq a curse— curses can’t be killed, but they can be healed! That’s the only way to get rid of it!’ She helped Zane to his feet, then edged back towards the rocky ledge where the tribesmen had taken Athul. ‘You can swim can’t you? When I say go, jump.’

  ‘What, and hope it’ll follow us in? Whoa,’ Zane cried, slipping on the mossy surface of the ledge and dropping his sword. As it fell into the water, the pool’s sides smoothed and glowed as its churning waters sparkled gold.

  ‘Did you see that? Quick, drop your spear in too!’ she told Zane.

  ‘Are you mad?’

  ‘Just do it!’ She held her own sword out over the golden-glowing water and with a deep breath, tossed it into the centre. The pool’s radiance brightened and a static charge surged in the air. ‘This is it. Ready?’

  Zane shook his head, clutching at his bloodstained top. He’d scrunched it up over his gash as a kind of compress.

  ‘Blood attracts it,’ she gestured at his top. ‘We only need to wait.’ She positioned herself and Zane closer to the water’s edge before turning to face the monster. It had crouched low and bared all its fangs. ‘Let go of your top, Zane.’

  Zane whimpered, then let go of his top so his wound bled freely.

  The monster’s eyes glowed green, then it sprang, aiming for the wound.

  ‘Now!’ Beth cried and pulled Zane back with all her strength.

  They hit the water, which brightened yet again, and the Hupuleq sailed over them, its front tentacles splayed outward, searching, while its back tentacles scrabbled for the ledge’s sides. But with the sides of the pool smoothed and mossy, the creature couldn’t find any grip and it slipped, plunging into the water along with them.

  They hit the churning wet and began spinning, the creature shrieking in agony as its body shrivelled and disintegrated. The whirlpool rushed around them and Beth had to fight not to drown in its roiling currents. The pool’s centre was black and deep. What had she been thinking? She went to take a breath and got a mouthful of water. Ahead of her, Zane’s head bobbed as the current dragged them apart. His head kept sinking and resurfacing like he was trying to swim but didn’t have the strength.

  Then he went totally under.

  Was it the Hupuleq? She looked around. Behind her floated a vanishing mess of scales, fur and tentacles, slowly sinking under golden waters. The only sound now was the roaring of the whirlpool, which twisted her faster and faster, despite her kicking away. She was so tired already—she couldn’t fight it anymore, and as liquid covered her nose, she held her breath and sank.

  Why had she done this? Why had she met a bunch of strangers outside a derelict house, entered another world, fought the worst monster imaginable, and now jumped into a whirlpool? Her father would never know what had happened to her, her body lost to the deep golden-flecked water.

  A bright light flashed, blinding her, and she blinked. Everything was dazzling and bright, but not wet anymore. Then, with a jarring thump, she landed on solid ground. She gasped air, and lots of dust, enough to make her cough. But there was no more water. She wasn’t drowning, instead sitting and breathing. She looked around. Golden flecks still swirled everywhere but, instead of water, she was surrounded by spinning sand.

  Chapter 7

  Dry, hard, biting sand flew all around and stung Beth’s eyes, roaring like a tribe. She put up her hands to shield her face but she was surrounded by it, covered in it—it was in her hair, nose and ears. She couldn’t be home. At home, now trees were largely contained on farms, open patches of loose top soil often blew into raging dust storms. But they never had sand storms. They were somewhere new. They? Zane was nowhere in sight.

  ‘Zane!’ she coughed as grains of sand scratched the inside of her throat. She peered between her fingers, trying to see. ‘Zane!’ Some way off was a dark blurred patch. Was it him? She shuffled over. ‘Zane!’ The sand spun around her in spirals and circles like a mini hurricane but, yes, it was him.

  ‘I can’t see!’ Zane shouted and coughed.

  ‘Get down!’ Beth crouched to escape the harsh grit pounding her face.

  Zane staggered up instead, his hands outstretched as if searching for something. He stepped forward though the wind blasted him backwards.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Beth shouted. ‘If we stick together we might get home!’ She heard nothing except winds whistling and grains of sand thrashing each other. She crawled forward, partly covering her eyes with a hand. Her face and body stung. ‘Zane!’

  He was standing, hugging himself and leaning into the wind.

  Still on her hands and knees, she tugged at his ankles until he fell onto his knees.

  ‘Ouch, Beth!’ he shouted, clutching them. ‘I saw rocks over there!’

  She looked to where he was pointing. ‘Okay! But you can see more clearly down here! Let’s go!’

  They crawled forward together from rock to rock, getting some protection from the harsh wind.

  ‘Sorry about your knees,’ Beth said, once they’d settled between the biggest rocks. ‘I was trying to get you out of the wind.’

  ‘They’re fine,’ Zane said, clasping his chest instead where the monster had wounded him.

  ‘Is it serious?’

  ‘How would I know?’ Zane snapped, moving his hand so she could look. His top was torn and blood had seeped into the fabric, but the wound itself was no longer bleeding.

  ‘That Hupuleq gave you quite a slashing,’ Beth peered closer, ‘but it’s formed a scab already, somehow. Must have been that water’s healing powers. That’s good.’

  ‘Good?’ Zane spat in the sand beside him. ‘I almost died! Now we’re who-knows-where, in the middle of who-knows-what!’

  ‘Don’t you think I know that!’ Beth yelled, staring out into the storm. The whirlpool had been a gateway, but it hadn’t taken them home. ‘Can you see DaveT?’

  ‘No. I haven’t seen anyone other than you.’ He spat more sand out of his mouth.

  Beth screwed up her face. ‘Keep your bodily fluids to yourself.’

  ‘Only if you wipe your nose.’

  ‘What? Oh.’ She hadn’t realised her eyes and nose were streaming from all the sand.

&nb
sp; Zane gave her a look and turned his back.

  Fine. There was nothing to say or do anyway until the wind died down. It took a while, but slowly the sandstorm faded. Hawks shrieked in the distance, then the sky cleared. Finally Beth could see further than a few metres—ten metres, then fifty, then a hundred—until she could see nothing but sandy desert, rolling dunes, and a sky so blue and clear. Not a speck of haze, pollution or dust—a foreign sky. With a hot, hot sun.

  Beth tugged at her short sleeves.

  ‘So thirsty!’ moaned Zane, standing to look around. ‘Would you rather be drowning in a whirlpool?’ Ignoring her, he squinted into the harsh light. ‘Great, nothing for miles.’

  She stood to look. ‘Could be something over that dune there. Should we go see?’

  ‘You can.’

  Beth was about to tell him what he could go and do, when the sound of thudding hooves pounded towards them, followed by voices shouting. Five mounted desert warriors were surrounding the outcrop. Curved daggers, heavily jewelled, hung from belts around their waists. They wore long white robes and their eyes were only just visible through the red-chequered wrap covering their heads.

  One of them jumped from his horse and unwound his face scarf to reveal a jagged scar across his cheek. ‘Strangers!’ he called, striding toward them.

  The other warriors leapt off their horses in unison and marched closer.

  ‘Who are you?’ the scarred warrior yelled. ‘This land belongs to Sheikh Zidan! You are not permitted here.’

  ‘We,’ Beth stammered as the leader neared, ‘we didn’t know.’

  The scar on his face twitched. ‘Then you must come to the sheikh’s palace.’

  ‘That scar,’ Zane said, pointing, ‘I recognise it from somewhere. Don’t I know you?’

  The leader’s eyes narrowed, then he signalled to his men. ‘Fetch them.’

  The warriors dashed as one to the outcrop.

  ‘Get off!’ Zane shouted, kicking sand as they grabbed him.

  ‘Don’t touch me!’ Beth screamed. But the warriors were stronger and threw them over their shoulders before lugging them back to the horses.

  ‘It is the wish of Sheikh Zidan,’ said the leader as Beth was slung into his saddle. He leapt up behind her, took up the reins and turned his mount around.

  Hot horse and leather blasted Beth’s nose as she tried wriggling free. From the corner of her eye, she saw Zane squirming in another saddle. ‘Let me go!’

  The leader just heeled his horse into a gallop. ‘Ai ai ai!’ The warriors took off across the desert at a cracking pace. Beth gripped the saddle, breathless.

  They rode across the dunes and paused at the highest. A desert city appeared below them, with five towers of a palace jutting high within its walls. Water glittered beyond and, as they zigzagged down the dune, Beth saw a rocky coastline framing a small port. Five large boats bobbed on the water, pale against the blue.

  Once on flat ground again, the horses sped up, riding side by side. Beth glanced at the horse beside her. Its mane had five coloured ribbons braided through it and on the hilt of the warrior’s sword, a large five-sided emerald glinted in the sun. Five men, five towers, five boats and five ribbons. Beth narrowed her eyes. Now a five-sided emerald. It couldn’t be coincidence. Something was written on each sword’s scabbard too. She strained to make out the engraving as the horse galloped at a steady pace.

  A gem without gratitude is grievous.

  Beth committed the phrase to memory, repeating it in her mind. The last inscription they’d seen, on that forest tree, had had a direct effect on their safety.

  The desert city’s gates loomed ahead, vast and wooden as five sentries ushered the warriors through. Beth glimpsed the colourful hubbub of a crowded marketplace—the delicious scent of fried food and spices wafting across as they entered a large courtyard bordering some military barracks. The warriors dismounted, and Zane and Beth slid off the horses, Zane clutching his chest.

  ‘Water?’ the scar-faced leader asked them, holding up a clay jug.

  Beth nodded her thanks and sipped it gratefully. While she drank, he shouted instructions to his men who led the horses into some stables. At his waist, his dagger’s magnificent emerald glinted in the sunlight. Without thinking, she reached to touch it. A tingling raced through her fingers ending in her thumb, which turned bright green.

  ‘What on earth?’ she murmured. She turned her hand over and back. Was it the webbing that turned green, or her skin underneath? She wriggled her fingers. It felt okay. In fact, it felt kind of nice.

  She handed the jug back to the warrior and he smiled fleetingly.

  ‘You,’ he said to Zane. ‘Water?’

  Zane peered at him. ‘You look really familiar. Aren’t you that gamer, Jumbie? You got that scar when your brother hit you with a toy train. You said so in the chatroom.’

  The warrior shook his head. ‘I am of the tribe of Sheikh Zidan. I won this scar in battle.’

  Zane huffed, snatched the jug, then splashed its contents all over his face, shaking the water from his hair. He eyed the emerald, then reached out to touch it too.

  ‘No!’ The warrior swiped his hand away. ‘Do not touch the emerald of Zidan!’ He glared at Zane and his scar twitched until one of his riders appeared holding some white robes. ‘Put these on while I inform the sheikh you have entered our land.’ He eyed them both. ‘He decides whether strangers rescued from sandstorms are welcome, or not.’ And with that he strode away with his men, gesturing for the city gates to be locked.

  ‘I wonder what they do with strangers who aren’t welcome,’ said Beth, climbing into her robe.

  ‘Eat them,’ Zane snapped.

  Beth gnashed her teeth. ‘I don’t think they like you much either. Did you read the engravings on their scabbards? I think emeralds might be important here, and the number five.’

  ‘Or equally unimportant,’ Zane growled, shoving on his robe.

  ‘Emeralds are important, Zane. Look!’ She showed him her thumb. It was still green.

  ‘Ergh, is that infected?’

  ‘No, it’s from touching the emerald. I had to touch it,’ she said, shrugging before wandering toward a low wall.

  ‘You’re crazy—just like DaveT and Jumbie—another Tordon gamer gone nuts.’ Zane looked over the wall into the marketplace. ‘Stay here if you want but I’m escaping. Check it out!’

  Beneath them spread the markets. Five hawks were leashed to a mud-washed wall, beyond which merchants haggled from stalls, shouting their trade. Camels spat as they were inspected and prodded. Goats and sheep bleated for attention and proud stallions whinnied while being fitted with beaded bridles. Beyond the animals hundreds of people milled about, wearing the same white robes as Beth and Zane now wore. They could easily disappear among the crowds and continue their search for home. If they stayed, who knew what Sheikh Zidan would decide?

  ‘Okay,’ Beth agreed. ‘We can merge with the crowd through there, see?’ She pointed to an archway through which a constant stream of people moved. ‘But no running—with these robes on we’ll look like everyone else.’

  Zane pulled himself up onto the wall, holding his chest. ‘Okay, but follow me. Do exactly as I say.’

  She huffed, pointing to his chest. Blood had seeped onto his robe again. ‘What about that?’

  Zane glanced down and paled. ‘It was the horse ride.’ ‘You need a bandage.’

  ‘Well, there are none here.’ And he slid off the wall onto the other side.

  Beth hauled herself up and over, then followed him down a few steps into a dim passageway that merged with another tunnel. Soon they were stepping into sunlight under the archway and among a steady flow of people.

  ‘Help us! Help us!’ came a cry.

  Sitting against a wall, several men in rags held their hands out for money.

  ‘Zane, look at their wrists!’ Around each of the beggar’s wrists was a white band, just like the bands that had appeared on her and Zane’s wrists when
they fell through Kaleski’s door, although the webbing on their hands wasn’t so obvious now. She held out one of her wrists and pointed at a band.

  Zane peered at the beggars’ wrists and stepped towards them. ‘Can you help us? Are you trying to get home as well?’

  The beggars smiled toothlessly.

  ‘Home?’ said one. ‘The dirt I sit on is my home. How about some coins?’

  ‘But you have the same wristbands as us.’ Zane held out his hand.

  ‘All I see is skin. Now, give us money!’

  Beth stepped forward. ‘But you must have come from somewhere, like us!’

  ‘The dirt is my home—always has been, always will be.’

  ‘Yes,’ said another beggar, his voice cracking, ‘we want nothing more than the dirt. The dirt is our friend.’

  ‘Or will be,’ cackled another, ‘once you give us coins.’ He lurched to grab Zane’s wrist.

  ‘You’re demented,’ Zane said, backing away.

  ‘Come back!’

  ‘Give us coins!’

  Beth hurried into the crowd with Zane at her heels.

  ‘Our bands were invisible to them!’

  ‘I know. Creepy. Quick, this way,’ he pointed between some stalls.

  The markets were like a maze, with people constantly stopping to view the stallholders’ wares—tasselled camel saddles, palm leaf rope, woven curtains and horns.

  Zane took a side turn down an alley where there were even more people and stalls.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Beth demanded. ‘We won’t get far down there.’

  ‘I’m looking for a way out.’

  ‘More like deeper in. We should go that way.’

  ‘No, every time I listen to you…’ Zane paused as his eyes lit up. ‘Whoa, look at this!’ He stepped towards a huge collection of rifles, ammunition and knives. ‘Fine looking weapons. My father would like these.’ He picked one up.

  Beth rolled her eyes until she spied the next stall. ‘Look at all this jewellery for sale!’

  ‘There’s lots of everything for sale.’

  ‘Yeah, but these are amazing!’ Beads and chains knotted with cloves, bells, turquoise, coins and cucumber-shaped amulets that rattled with tiny seeds. Beside them sat a tray full of gems—pentagons in every colour. Beth stood mesmerised, thinking of the warrior’s emeralds. As she did, she reached for a ring set with five green stars.