Into Tordon Read online

  ‘Too-what?’

  ‘Two-for-one! Look at your hand!’

  Sure enough, under the now barely-noticeable webbing, the last of Beth’s fingers had turned green. She had a full deck. Scrunching and releasing her hand, she looked again—yes, each finger was green. All five. Now they could find out if five had a special meaning in this world. Would it be enough get them home?

  ‘Two more to go for me,’ said Zane.

  ‘Then what?’

  ‘Don’t know,’ he said, grinning, ‘but I guess we’ll find out!’

  Beth huffed. He sounded like he was having fun. ‘This isn’t some grand adventure, you know. All that matters is getting home.’

  ‘Either way, I’m bushed,’ Zane said, yawning and gazing at the night sky. ‘It’s been a huge day, or whatever it was.’

  Beth yawned too. Was it only that morning she’d won The Chameleon Chart? Surely Dad would be worried by now—watching the front door waiting for her to walk in, or sitting in her empty room? Her heart squeezed and she folded her arms across it. She couldn’t think about that right now, she had to stay focussed.

  The sheikh bid them goodnight and, as Beth crawled into the soft warm rugs of her bed, she briefly wondered about Kira—why had her thumb turned green? Did she have white wristbands too?

  She’d find out tomorrow.

  In the meantime, sleep came to her fast and deep.

  Chapter 10

  ‘How tough are you, tough guy?’ came a child’s voice.

  Was she dreaming? It couldn’t be morning already. ‘My father says I’m more grown-up than you!’ said another.

  The voices were coming from Zane’s room across the hall.

  Squinting against the light, Beth quickly threw on her robe, splashed water on her face and rushed in to see two young boys prodding and poking Zane.

  ‘Get off me!’ Zane complained.

  ‘Ah! I see you have met my youngest sons, Musa and Tariq,’ said Sheikh Zidan, appearing in the doorway.

  The boys climbed off Zane at once.

  ‘Beth, Zane,’ the sheikh said. ‘I have a request of you both—a simple one. My boys want to play down at the harbour today, but I want them to learn chess. I hear you are good at the game, Zane, so perhaps there is a way for them to do both?’ He gazed at Beth.

  ‘Chess isn’t my thing,’ Zane moaned.

  ‘No? Then perhaps you could teach them something else. Beth, I’m sure you will think of a good idea. It is important for them to learn from any strangers passing through, to broaden their minds and experiences.’ For a second, Beth thought he winked as he said, ‘There’s an old saying—the harbour can hold the secret to one’s dreams.’

  She glanced out the window. The harbour? Her dream was to get home.

  ‘Are you going somewhere?’ Zane asked, gesturing at Sheikh Zidan’s waist. He was armed with a number of swords.

  ‘Other business awaits, so I bid you farewell. My man will escort you to the harbour. I am grateful you have not refused my request.’ And with a short bow, he was gone.

  ‘But I want to go back to sleep.’ Zane groaned as the boys began pummelling him again.

  ‘You heard him,’ said Beth. ‘He’s grateful we haven’t refused his request. Grateful. This is our chance. Your chance.’

  Zane finally tumbled out of bed, scattering the sheikh’s sons who tagged along to breakfast in the courtyard.

  Kira was nowhere to be seen although Beth looked and looked, hoping to ask her about her hand. She gulped down her flatbread and honey and then Jumbie arrived, ready to escort them all to the harbour. Beth sighed with one last glance back at the kitchen.

  Jumbie’s scar twitched the whole way and he kept grumbling to himself. Beth caught the odd phrase. ‘Now I will miss the battle. I will never gain esteem in his eyes.’

  Beth glanced sideways at Zane who made the crazy sign around his ear before batting away Musa and Tariq. They giggled and tried to catch his swinging arms again.

  They marched through the food market, where hanging baskets of different coloured spices gave off heavy aromas. Mixed together, the fragrances made Beth giddy. She was grateful for the fresh ocean air that greeted her once the street passages spilled onto a curved sandy beach.

  At the end of the shore, the five boats she’d seen yesterday were still moored at a wooden dock. They floated in a calm sea, their white sails limp. Many children ran about on the harbour’s edge and Musa and Tariq rushed down to greet their friends.

  ‘Snotty nosed kids,’ Zane muttered. ‘What should we do with them?’

  Beth shrugged, rubbing her head. She still felt giddy and didn’t know what to do with them either—there were no computers here. ‘Tell jokes? But nice jokes! You go ahead. I need to sit here for a minute. I’ll be down once my head clears.’

  With a huff, Zane sauntered down to the children who leapt up and ran away as if hoping he’d chase them. They shrieked with delight as he attempted to get close. ‘Hey! Slow down!’

  Beth found a place to sit with a good view of the desert, the sea and the city market, and took several deep breaths. As her giddiness faded, she searched the harbour for what Sheikh Zidan had called the secret to her dreams—a gateway home. Where was it?

  Jumbie stood nearby, staring darkly at Zane, then her, then Zane again. Beth tried to ignore him. Somehow being at the harbour was the solution, she was sure of it. But how?

  ‘Can’t catch us, tough guy!’ the children called, easily out-running Zane.

  He was puffing and panting in no time. Beth laughed, knowing Zane wasn’t quite as fit as he believed. She wondered why when he’d spent so much time at survival camps?

  The boys had a long rope of animal hair now, which they flicked at Zane like a whip.

  ‘Quit it!’ Zane yelled. ‘Actually, give me that rope and I’ll show you something.’

  Warily, the boys handed Zane their rope. He wound it round his clenched fist over and over until it was a large rounded knot, like a ball. Then he removed his hand, secured its ends and kicked it upwards. The children’s eyes traced it into the air, amazed, then Zane kicked it away, volleying it over them all. They all ran for it, knocking heads as they did. Tariq fell and when he sat up, he looked dazed.

  ‘You alright?’ Zane pulled him up with a quick brush off. When Tariq nodded, Zane bounced the knotted rope from knee to knee, then tossed it to Musa.

  ‘Careful, Zane,’ Beth called. ‘You might enjoy yourself!’ ‘Ha! Just something I saw on the interweb.’

  Musa suddenly thrust a mini knotted rope into Zane’s hands. ‘I want you to have this. It’s made of camel hair.’ Woven in its centre was a small green emerald that shone as Zane touched it. ‘Don’t forget us.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Zane, and this time Beth actually thought he meant it. Another one of his fingers turned green. One more to go.

  ‘Come!’ Tariq called to her. ‘We’ll show you Father’s boat.’

  Don’t forget us, Musa just said. Did that mean they were about to leave?

  She skipped after them, along the harbour’s edge. The sheikh’s yacht was moored to the side of the dock. It had emerald-green sails, a smooth wooden deck and five tall oak masts. So much wood! She would have thought that trees were a rarity in this desert world, just like back home.

  They climbed the gangplank to see a short stone pillar on board marked with strange engravings. Beth’s mouth gaped open.

  On top of the pillar was a bronze plaque with two moulded handprints—one left hand and one right hand. The fingers of each print were set with a five-sided emerald. Five fingers, five sides. Beth smiled. This had to be it.

  She held up her right hand. Zane’s green hand was his left—all except for one finger.

  ‘I think I know what to do,’ she said.

  ‘But we haven’t got the full set yet.’

  Musa and Tariq smiled up at him with their father’s green eyes. ‘A gem without gratitude is grievous,’ they chimed in unison.

 
‘Right,’ said Zane, ‘but…’

  Tariq thrust out his hand for Zane to shake. ‘Thank you for helping me when I fell over.’ On his pinky was a tiny emerald ring.

  Zane grinned and took Tariq’s hand. ‘Thanks for the game.’ After they shook hands, Zane held up an entirely emerald hand.

  ‘May peace go with you,’ said Musa.

  ‘And with you be peace,’ remembered Beth, and she smiled as the two children ran off the boat. She turned to Zane. ‘So, like the tent woman said—an emerald hand begets freedom.’

  ‘Yeah,’ grunted Zane, looking back to the market. ‘Freedom.’ He sounded sad about it.

  ‘You don’t want to go home?’

  ‘Would you if you were me?’

  ‘So you want to stay here like DaveT and Jumbie?’ Beth went to gesture at Jumbie but he wasn’t on the shore anymore—he was scowling at the end of the gangplank, arms folded.

  ‘You must get off the yacht of Sheikh Zidan.’

  ‘What? But his sons said it was okay,’ Beth called out before turning to Zane, ‘listen, I need to get home. Please! You want freedom, but it’s not here. Remember the beggars?’

  Zane watched Jumbie step up the gangplank then looked back at Beth. She had her right hand already pressed in the bronze mould.

  His left hand hovered. ‘I’m not doing it for you,’ he said before slamming his hand down next to hers.

  Nothing happened.

  A slight breeze rippled the sail above them. Children still ran on the beach. The sea grew a little choppier, but that was all. Zane removed his hand and looked around.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Beth cried. ‘Put it back on!’

  ‘It didn’t do anything.’

  Then the boat suddenly rocked so hard that Jumbie stretched his arms out to steady himself.

  Zane grabbed the nearest mast and squinted at the sky. The wind had picked up and clouds rolled darkly. Everyone onshore was scampering for cover. Musa and Tariq waved as though everything was okay, before disappearing into the city’s markets.

  ‘I think this is supposed to happen!’ Beth cried as the waves grew and the boat tipped.

  Then the boat rocked so violently that Jumbie toppled over into the sea.

  ‘Jumbie!’ Zane yelled as the yacht ripped itself from its mooring.

  ‘He’s there!’ Beth shouted, pointing to the sodden warrior dragging himself back onto the wooden boards of the dock.

  Panting, he stood and watched helplessly as they swiftly drifted away. Rain poured down and their limp sails whipped against the mast so hard Beth thought they would rip. She gripped the pillar as the wind howled past.

  ‘This is it!’ she yelled as the shoreline receded even further. ‘This is the gateway home!’

  ‘This is crazy!’ Zane shouted, right before an enormous wave rose and crashed over the boat. He gasped, completely drenched.

  Beth laughed, until an even bigger wave heaved up. ‘Hold on!’ she screamed.

  Water smashed on the deck in an avalanche, knocking Zane over. He slid to the other side of the boat, near the gap where the gangplank had been. Beth’s heart thudded as he slipped closer to the mountainous sea.

  At the last minute Zane reached out and caught hold of the railing, and when the wave retreated he scrambled back to the pillar and gripped on. He stared at the thin railing where he’d saved himself and, as the dark sea heaved, he shuddered.

  Beth tensed herself for the next wave—a gigantic one that hurled itself over them, throwing them both off their feet. They plunged across the deck straight for the gap.

  Lightning flashed.

  The gap yawned closer.

  Bam!

  Multiple shards of lightning blinded them as it filled the sky.

  The rocking stopped.

  Beth and Zane sat up, blinking at the calm sea and pale blue sky. Had the storm blown itself out already? Grey clouds floated far on the horizon. Waves gently lapped the boat around them. The storm had…vanished.

  Beth put up her hand to shade her eyes. The harbour was gone too, as well as the desert city. There was no desert anywhere, no children, no house on Daintree Street, nothing.

  In every direction there was only ocean.

  Chapter 11

  Beth gazed across the empty expanse of water. Had they been through a gateway or not? ‘Where are we?’

  Zane leant back. ‘Don’t know.’ He put his hands behind his head and smiled to himself. ‘But we’re on a boat. And the sea is calm.’

  ‘Why are you so happy? We’re supposed to be going home.’

  ‘No, you wanted to go home. I wanted another adventure. I guess I won!’ He got up and explored the boat. It was no longer a yacht, but a much smaller sailing boat with a single mast. ‘The good news is, I know how to sail one of these.’

  ‘Good news?’ Beth shook her head. How could he be so insensitive? He knew she wanted to go home. Beth watched him for a moment. ‘Hey, where are our desert robes?’ They were both back in long-sleeve tops and shorts. She patted the material. ‘And we’re completely dry.’

  Zane parted the rips in his top. A scabbed wound still marked his chest, but it had faded. ‘How about that. Maybe when we travel through time and space we can’t take things like robes and water from the previous world, they combust or something. But on the plus side, our wounds heal faster than normal?’

  ‘Maybe.’ Beth shifted in her seat and the boat rocked as she moved. An old bottle rolled against her feet. As she went to kick it away she noticed something inside. She twisted off the bottle’s cap and a scrap of newspaper fell into her hand. In bold type was the word Resilience.

  Her heart thumped. ‘Resilience? What does that mean?’

  Zane was poking at his chest. ‘Toughness or bouncing back or something like that.’

  ‘Like keep going when the going gets tough?’

  ‘Yep. Like endurance.’ Zane stopped fiddling with his top and inspected the boat again.

  Beth just stared at the piece of paper. Was it simply old newspaper or a sign? Would they have to endure long tortuous days at sea or was it just some leftover rubbish?

  She scanned the horizon. It was the same in every direction. No sign of land at all. ‘I just want to go home,’ she mumbled to herself.

  ‘Who cares? What do you have waiting back home anyway? Family? Friends? A boyfriend?’

  Beth looked out to sea in answer.

  Zane scoffed. ‘Thought so. This could be fun. Dad took me out on a boat last year.’

  ‘More survival training?’

  ‘Yep. He said learning how to sail the sea is like learning how to sail through life. Everything on that trip was a metaphor! Watch for the wave that has no fear. Big fish eat the little fish. All that and other mindless rubbish. I still have no idea what any of it meant. But I do remember this is the tiller,’ he tapped a pole attached to the rudder, ‘this is the hull,’ he tapped the side of the boat, ‘and you have to look out for the boom if we turn in a hurry.’

  ‘It’s good your father teaches you anything.’

  Zane shrugged. ‘The first thing he taught me is how to find land.’ Holding the mast, Zane shielded his eyes and scanned the horizon. ‘Those clouds—we should head for them.’

  ‘Back into the storm?’

  ‘Clouds form above land.’

  ‘Can’t we find a fluffy white one to follow?’

  Zane huffed. ‘Can you see any fluffy white ones?’ Beth scanned the blue sky. ‘No,’ she had to admit. Zane licked his finger and held it up. ‘The wind is blowing that way too. Wind generally blows towards land during the day, away from it at night. That’s how trade winds work and stuff. And look!’ He pointed at a small shape. ‘An albatross! It’s flying out of the clouds—it must have come from the land.’

  Beth watched the bird fly closer and closer. ‘Aren’t albatrosses supposed to be good luck?’ she asked as it finally squawked overhead. It circled the boat, swooping low enough to glare at them, then flew away. Beth swore the bir
d had green eyes. ‘I think we should follow it. I don’t like the look of those clouds.’

  Zane scowled. ‘It’s heading out to sea. We need land.’

  ‘I reckon it’s flying away from the storm, probably toward land. Plus, it had green eyes.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So that chameleon in the forest had green eyes too.’

  She paused, realising how ridiculous she sounded.

  ‘Seriously? You want to risk sailing away from land because of some random bird’s eye colour? Anyway, I’m the one who knows how to steer the boat, so we’re going my way.’ He set to work, setting the sail so it filled with the fresh breeze, and steering them straight towards the storm clouds.

  Beth scanned the horizon again, but saw no alternative. There was nothing else to aim for and no one to ask where they should go.

  ‘Is anybody out there?’ she yelled. The only sound that replied was the splashing of waves against the boat. She sat back again and stared at Zane. He looked content and still.

  Was it worse to die, she wondered, by a tribesman’s spear or to be lost at sea? Yes, lost—because there was no use pretending, no one knew they were here. They had no food, no water and there was no land in sight. And Zane had them heading into storm clouds.

  ‘Shouldn’t we do something about drinking water?’ Zane pursed his lips. ‘We’ll be at those clouds in no time.’

  ‘What if we get there and there’s no land and we’re thirsty, I mean really thirsty? You’ll wish we had some food. If we had fish, there’d be moisture in their flesh.’

  ‘Yuck, who eats raw fish?’

  ‘Hello, sushi? Well, some sushi. Look, there’s the albatross again.’ It circled lazily to the left of the boat. ‘What’s it doing?’

  ‘Probably circling a school of fish.’

  ‘Another military survival tip?’

  ‘No. Common sense.’ Zane re-angled the tiller, trying to steer a smoother course through the now choppy waves. ‘The storm will probably scare the fish. Yeah, see?’ he pointed to the albatross flying toward them again. ‘The fish have dived deep, so this fella’s heading off too.’