The Last Timekeepers and the Arch of Atlantis

by Sharon Ledwith

  Ravi barreled out of the cave, followed closely by Melody. They slammed into Jean, who banged into Robyn, sending him flying through the air to land on Sheriff Marc’s lap.

  Amanda’s whole body sighed. “Where were you guys?”

  “I-I-I tripped,” Melody stammered. “R-Ravi helped…me up.”

  “Robyn! Robyn Hodekin…art thou hurt?” Miriam cried, as she raced after him.

  The sheriff’s head twitched back and forth, and he started to mumble. At first, he was hard to understand. Then his words got clearer. “R-Robin? Robin Hood? Thief! Villain! Poacher! I will hunt thee down till the day I die, Robin Hood!”

  Miriam stopped dead in her tracks. Startled, Robyn scrambled away from Sheriff Marc.

  “Sheriff Marc hath never said such hateful things of Robyn before,” Miriam said.

  “What did Belial do to him down there, prof?” Drake asked.

  “Poisoned his mind, I guess,” Professor Lucas replied, helping Melody up. “Being down there for as long as he was, in the company of a dark, evil mind, would make anyone go mad.”

  “I-I agree, John,” Melody replied, trying to grasp her breath. “Tarbush serves Belial now, and I believe he has taken over from where Crowley left off.”

  Drake frowned. “What happened to Crowley?”

  “That douche-bag was sucked back into the archway and got what he deserved,” Ravi replied, crawling out of a bush. He pulled out a small forked branch stuck in his pants and flung it aside. “We gotta get outta here before Tarbush catches us.”

  “Nay, we shall stand and fight the rogue!” Wil spat.

  “No,” Treena blurted, pumping her fist in the air. “We need to get Robyn to the tournament. He has to follow his destiny! He has to rob from the rich to give to the poor!”

  Wil stared at Treena intensely. “Now thou speakest the truth to me!”

  Amanda groaned. “I don’t think that’s what Lilith had in mind when she recruited us to be Timekeepers, Treena.”

  “Then let me show you what Belial has in mind for you and the rest of your time-meddling friends, girl!” a harsh voice hissed from behind Amanda.

  Amanda twisted around. There, standing at the mouth of the cave was Maxwell J. Tarbush. Being out in the daylight didn’t do him any justice. A thin man with ghostly white hair, bushy sideburns, and a moustache that screamed “shave me,” he wore a dark long overcoat that flared at the waist and black stove-pipe pants. His complexion was pallid, washed over, like that of a creepy mortician. A faded, jagged incision ran across his forehead as if he’d been mistaken for a Thanksgiving turkey.

  Tuck gave him a warning growl, but all he did was laugh.

  Professor Lucas rushed over and stood in front of Amanda and the other kids. He crossed his arms defiantly and glared at him. “I suggest that you crawl back to wherever you came from, Tarbush! You’re unarmed and outnumbered!”

  Tarbush laughed again. A bubble of black ooze blew out of one nostril. He snorted it away like an unwanted booger. “Unarmed? I suggest that you take a closer look.”

  Tarbush pulled out two playing cards from his coat pocket. They looked ordinary, harmless in fact, but when Max Tarbush simultaneously dealt the pair of cards through the air, they became lethal weapons. One card whizzed toward Melody’s head like one of Jordan’s fastballs. Jean put his staff out in time and intercepted it. The other card whined in Miriam’s direction. Robyn was there, holding out his bow across her body as Tarbush’s card sliced into it. His bow split, cracked, and half fell to the ground with the queen of spades stuck in it.

  Miriam gasped. “Oh, Robyn! Thy bow. ’Tis ruined.”

  The five of spades hummed as it protruded from Jean’s staff. The professor reached over to pull it out, then winced and checked his hand. One of his fingers was bleeding. Amanda guessed the card was made of a light-weight metal—like a razor blade, but sharper.

  “Oh yes, and as for being outnumbered,” Tarbush said. He flicked his tongue out like a snake and whistled hard.

  Soldiers who must have been patrolling the forest yelled out, “’Tis this way!”

  Max Tarbush pulled out another card. He held it ready. His reptilian lip quivered. “I’ll take Hood and the crystal trident now!”

  Treena moaned. “Where’s a secret weapon when you need one?”

  Amanda stiffened. Her body tingled, as if sending her a secret text. She blinked. “I believe I can help us with that, Treena.”

  Swiftly, Amanda scooped up the forked branch Ravi had discarded and jumped behind Jordan. She unzipped his backpack and started to rifle through it.

  “What are you doing, Sault?” Jordan whispered from the corner of his mouth.

  “Just stand still and block Tarbush’s view,” she answered. “Where is it? Where is it?”

  “Where is what?” Treena asked.

  She didn’t answer Treena. She’d found it. Gritting her teeth, Amanda pulled it out with one snap of her wrist, cup and all. Treena’s eyes bugged.

  “You were looking for Jordan’s jockstrap? You’re sick, Sault,” Treena muttered.

  “You see a jockstrap. I see a weapon,” Amanda explained, wiggling the forked branch in front of Treena. “Haven’t you ever fired a slingshot before?”

  Treena smirked. She looked down and found a round rock by her foot. She plucked it up and passed it to Amanda. “Make it count, Huckleberry.”

  Amanda nodded and quickly assembled the makeshift slingshot. She could hear heavy footsteps advancing toward them. Branches cracked, the earth shook, and small animals scurried away. She wiped the beading sweat from her brow. The soldiers were getting closer, the Sheriff of Nottingham was waking up, and Max Tarbush stood waiting, black slime trickling from his mouth. Amanda counted to three in her head, then stepped out from behind Jordan, pulled back the strap, and released the rock.

  Smack! Amanda’s shot hit Tarbush square on the chin and sent him screeching backward toward the cave’s entrance.

  Miriam cheered. “Thou goest, girl!”

  “Eww, look!” Treena squealed, pointing at Tarbush.

  The razor card Tarbush was holding had sliced into his left cheek above his moustache. He shrieked, floundered, and kicked on the ground in front of the cave as black slime spurted from the deep gash—blinding, torturing, and imprisoning him. Amanda grimaced.

  “Looks like Tarbush had to fold his hand,” Ravi said, grinning.

  Jordan laughed. “Yeah, apparently Sault doesn’t like to bluff.”

  “Come on guys, let’s make like a tree and leave!” Drake yelled.

  “What about the Sheriff of Nottingham?” Treena asked.

  Professor Lucas shook his head sternly. “We’ll have to leave him, Treena. He’ll be fine, his men will find him. As far as history is concerned, it has remained unchanged—the Sheriff of Nottingham is now Robin Hood’s sworn enemy.”

  “Yes, John, but only we know the truth behind it,” Melody said before they all disappeared into the shelter of the dark forest.

  An hour later, with a few of Robyn Hodekin’s short cuts, found them in the heart of the May Day festivities. The tournament had already started. Not surprisingly, Sir Guy of Gisborne led the score. However, there was one big problem in keeping Robyn from entering the tournament—the sheriff’s men were posted everywhere. Hidden behind one of the vendors’ carts, Amanda and Miriam spotted the Sheriff of Nottingham, dressed in a fresher cloak and cleaner hose, standing next to Max Tarbush. Amanda squinted. A deeply-etched black scar ran down the side of Tarbush’s face now, making him appear paler and meaner. She grunted. Somehow, Belial knew that they were going to be here and seemed to be covering all his bases.

  “’Tis most odd,” Miriam blurted.

  Startled, Amanda glanced toward Miriam. “What?”

  “I hath searched the grounds over and over, yet cannot find him.”

  “Who?”

  Miriam sighed. “Robert, the Earl of Huntingdon,” she replied. “I met him two summers past with my father at a
n archery tourney. He is ten years my senior and was smitten with me.”

  Amanda caught the tone of sadness in Miriam’s voice. “How smitten?” she asked.

  “Smitten enough to ask Father for my hand in marriage,” Miriam whispered. “Father accepted the earl’s most recent proposal. The high tax the sheriff places upon our manor is too much. Huntingdon offers a handsome sum for me, enough to run the household for a goodly while.”

  “That’s the reason you never went home last night, isn’t it?” Amanda pressed. “And those men you spotted in Nottingham, they were out looking for you, weren’t they?”

  “Aye,” Miriam replied quietly, as if the pluck had fizzled out of her.

  Amanda needed to know more. “Do you like this earl guy?”

  Miriam’s face puckered as if getting ready to puke. “Nay, ’tis the truth the earl looks like a pock-marked eel with greasy, black hair. And his manners…well thou will understand when I tell thee Much possesses more!”

  Amanda’s jaw dropped. “Does…Robyn know?”

  “Nay,” Miriam replied, shaking her head. “It appears he has found someone else.”

  “Who?”

  Miriam looked Amanda in the eye. “Thee.”

  Amanda coughed. “Me? What would make you think that?”

  “I saw thee and Robyn together in the meadow this morning. I saw him kiss thy hand.”

  Amanda’s eyes widened. It had been Miriam she saw running through the forest. Amanda shook her head vehemently. “But, Miriam, Robyn was just thanking me for helping him see things clearly. You’ve gotta believe me, all the archery lessons and winning the tournament is for you, not me!”

  Miriam gasped. Her face reddened. “Me?”

  Amanda grinned. “Thee.”

  Then Amanda’s body prickled all over. Pock-marked eel. Greasy, black hair. She smirked, nudged her newfound friend and said, “Hey, Miriam, maybe the Earl of Huntingdon will show up for the tournament after all! Let’s get back to the others. I’ve got an idea.”

  It would be a quick make-over at best, but Amanda had faith in Ravi’s skills. If he could transform himself and White Pines’ Golden Jock into repulsive lepers, then he could surely change Robyn Hodekin into the equally revolting Earl of Huntingdon. Much and Wil were sent out to round up the necessary clothing fit for this particular, pompous earl—an oversized silk tunic with matching breeches and a fur-lined embroidered cloak. Professor Lucas swiftly constructed a pair of wooden stilts from branches, as Miriam had advised that the earl stood as tall as the professor. Luckily, Ravi had enough liquid latex and wax left to pock-mark Robyn’s face, while Treena offered her services and applied her tube of hair tint to darken his hair. All in all, when the transformation process was complete, Robyn emerged from the cocoon of Sharma’s cleverness into the full-fledged, butt-ugly Earl of Huntingdon. Amanda was impressed. So was everyone else.

  “Zounds!” Jean said. “Even I would not recognize thee, Robyn.”

  Alan a’Dale flinched. “God’s teeth, thou art as comely as a hog!”

  Tuck growled his displeasure.

  Robyn tried to grin, but the waxy face craters wouldn’t allow him. So he nodded and said, “I only hope to fool Sheriff Marc.”

  “Thou willst, Robyn,” Miriam said. “Just remember, the earl tends to cough a lot and then spits it all out.” She puckered her face in disgust.

  Treena gagged. “Just when you thought you’d heard it all.”

  “Is he ready?” Melody asked. “They’ve almost gone through all of the archers.”

  Robyn turned on his stilts—the silky breeches concealing them perfectly—and bowed regally toward Melody. She smiled and curtsied.

  “Hey, what about Robyn’s bow?” Jordan asked. “It got sliced in half.”

  Miriam sighed. “Here, Hodekin.” She passed Robyn her longbow and arrows. “’Twill do thee well on the archery field.”

  Robyn attempted to smile, but it was pointless. “I thank thee, Miriam. I shall take good care of thy bow.” He slid a finger over its length.

  Miriam shrugged. “’Tis thine to keep.”

  Robyn glanced at her warily. “But, Miriam, thou lovest thy bow.”

  Miriam glanced Amanda’s way. She shook her head. “’Tis time I grew up, Hodekin.”

  “You’d best get going, Robyn,” Melody said, patting his shoulder. “And remember what I taught you—above all, focus first.”

  “Aye, milady,” Robyn replied. “’Tis the whole task of being an archer, not just hitting the target, which makes thee great.”

  “You taught him that?” Professor Lucas asked in astonishment. Then he winked at her. “Ever thought of becoming a professor?”

  Melody giggled. “And give up my job as a Timekeeper? Never!”

  Amanda watched Robyn hobble off into the crowd to get to the end of the line of archery contestants. Miriam had explained that the tournament included three different tests of skill in order to eliminate the worst from the best. The first was distance shooting—a test of endurance, where the archers must shoot two rounds of six arrows on a target fifty strides away, then four rounds of six arrows on a target seventy-five strides away, and finally six rounds of six arrows on a target one hundred strides away. The second test was speed shooting where the archer must shoot as many arrows as possible into a target. Miriam said that the best count she had ever seen was eighteen arrows. The final test, which sounded like the most exciting to Amanda, was the elimination round. Only one arrow was used, and the archer who came closest to hitting the bull’s-eye won the tournament and the prize—a silver arrow and purse full of gold.

  Keeping low, Amanda, her fellow Timekeepers, and Robyn’s friends hid behind a tent surrounded by red and white banners. Alan a’Dale sat cross-legged next to her, plucking on his lute. He’d mumble out a few words, shake his head, growl and grunt, then start again.

  Amanda watched with anticipation as Robyn showed his true skill with the longbow throughout the first event. Every now and then, she heard Robyn cough then spit on the ground. Even the crowd seemed pleased and cheered him on. Robyn was definitely the underdog in this tournament. Sir Guy still led the way, but Robyn was catching up with each arrow he nocked. The second event proved Robyn definitely had the right stuff, as he shot an amazing twenty-two arrows to Sir Guy’s nineteen. The tournament was now tied.

  They were finally down to the last event when Amanda noticed that all of Robyn’s arrows were either broken or split. He would need replacements and soon. Slowly, Amanda crept away and started searching the grounds, careful not to be spotted by the sheriff’s men. She spied a pile of arrows next to the entrance of another tent. She smiled. This was Robyn’s lucky day. Amanda crouched behind carts and people and lurked in the shadows until she reached the tent. She scored a fistful of arrows, then turned to head back, but was stopped short by an armored hand on her shoulder. Swallowing hard, she followed the gleaming arm up to stare at the biggest, most intimidating knight she’d ever seen glaring down at her. His gauntlets were spiked and his helm had feathers sprouting out of its top like a hiccupping peacock. A somber growl erupted through his visor. Amanda closed her eyes, feeling the knight’s steely hand start to squeeze her shoulder, and hoped he wouldn’t pop off her head like a ripened zit.

  Clank! Amanda opened her eyes, thinking someone had hit an iron wall. The knight eased up on her shoulder, dropped his arm, wobbled, then started to plunge toward her. She sidestepped her metallic nemesis in time. The knight landed face first into a mud puddle. Professor Lucas stood in front of her, swinging a club with metal spikes. He didn’t seem very pleased with her.

  “And just what do you think you’re doing, young lady?” the professor asked.

  She grinned like a sharp sales lady. He didn’t seem to buy it though, so Amanda cleared her throat and said, “Robyn needs more arrows, Professor. All of his are busted.”

  Professor Lucas rubbed his stubbly chin and nodded. “Then we’d better get him some. Quick, help me drag this
knight into that tent. I’ll put on his armor to hide my identity from Tarbush and the sheriff so that I can deliver the arrows to Robyn.”

  Amanda rallied the others and brought them back to the tent. Inside, Jean and Miriam helped Professor Lucas on with the armor—which took a lot of grunting and groaning on the professor’s behalf. Some of the armor fit, some of it didn’t. Melody found a quiver, and Treena looked for the straightest and sharpest arrows to put in it. Jean strapped the sword, scabbard and belt around the professor’s waist while Miriam hastily placed the helm on his head. There—one knight in shining armor ready for duty.

  A gasp was uttered near the tent’s entrance. “What hast thou done with milord, rogues!”

  Amanda turned. A boy with tangled blond hair and killer blue eyes glared at them. He tried to scowl, but he was too pretty. The dark, flowing tunic and breeches he wore made him look almost harmless, with the exception of a long knife strapped to his belt. He reached for the knife about the same time Jordan whacked him from behind with a shield. His eyes rolled, and down he went with a thud. Tuck wandered over to sniff him, then lifted his leg and peed on him.

  “Who’s the douche?” Drake asked.

  “’Tis the knight’s squire,” Jean replied, poking him with his staff.

  “Aye, and a soggy one at that, I’d wager,” Much added.

  Miriam groaned. “God’s wounds, he will be missed on the field. ’Tis the truth, a squire’s duty is to follow and serve his knight.”

  Amanda looked at the grounded squire, then glanced up at Jordan. She smirked. “Then the knight shall have his squire. How about it, Jockstrap? The squire looks like he’d be about your size. All you’d have to do is carry the arrows and keep your face covered.”

  Melody snapped her fingers. “That’s brilliant, Amanda! This way, everything will appear normal and their moves won’t be suspicious.”

  Jordan’s mouth twitched. “Not brilliant. Not gonna do it. Not wearing something that Tuck did his business on.”

  “Oh, come on, Jordan,” Treena said. “There’s a hooded cloak and fresh pair of hose on the table. Just wear them over your clothes. What have you got to lose?”