The Gate of Days - Book of Time 2

by Guillaume Prevost

  “Sam?” someone called.

  He tried to lift his fingers off the stone, but a magnetic force seemed to hold them fast.

  “Sammy? It’s me, Lily.”

  Those last words were accompanied by the sound of the tapestry being lifted and the door opening.

  “Sam, wait! No! The police are coming. They—”

  Sam’s arm was starting to burn more and more. He braced himself, straining with all his might not to be carried away, but molten fire was flowing irresistibly up his veins.

  “No! You have to …”

  He felt Lily’s cool hand on his burning shoulder, but it wasn’t enough. He was already being sucked into space.

  * * *

  Sam landed heavily, with something even heavier pressing against his back. Resisting the urge to throw up, he struggled to free himself from the burden. Then he realized that the thing in question was a body huddled against him, and it was weeping and gagging.

  “Illil?” The syllables sounded garbled and unintelligible in his mouth. His cousin rolled onto her side, moaning, then turned away and vomited. In the darkness Sam could see her only as a light shape crouched on the cold, damp soil. What was Lily doing there? By what miracle had she followed him? He looked around for the stone. It was less than a yard away, topped with a skull and scraps of animal skins. A little farther on, he could see a tiny flame rising from a crude dish. Sam suspected what had happened and had a bad feeling about it.

  “Ahhhrrg!”

  Lily staggered to her feet. She was wearing the same kind of nightgown that Sam wore on his very first time-travel trip, to the island of Iona.

  “Ilil! Ata?” he asked. That wasn’t exactly what he meant to say, but it was all that came out.

  She turned to him in tears. “Ammy! Ata na?” Her face was twisted by pain and overwhelming panic.

  “Ilil, mon na!” said Sam, trying to calm her.

  It was difficult to talk, as this language didn’t seem to have all the words he wanted to say, resulting in a series of guttural grunts. And of course Lily had never experienced the strangeness of the automatic translator before. … He took her in his arms and hugged her tight.

  “Ammy!” she wailed. “Ammy!”

  When she had calmed down a little, she tugged at his sleeve and pointed forcefully at the stone statue. But Sam had no intention of leaving right away, regardless of the seriousness of their new situation. Each jump through time cost him a coin, and leaving without picking up a few extras was out of the question. Besides, if Lily was no longer in the present to help him get back, how would they make the trip home? It was best to think things over before they took any steps.

  Sam pulled his cousin gently but firmly toward the crude lamp. Flickering in the slight draft, the flame made shadows on the rocky wall.

  “Ngol?” asked Lily.

  “Ngol,” Sam agreed. It was the only word that came up to express the idea of a cave. Even so, it didn’t mean “cave” exactly, but rather “shelter from the winds where we are together” — more or less.

  It was then that the cave suddenly seemed to come to life before their eyes. A kind of bull or bison outlined in black floated on the stone, heaving in the shifting light; then a big horse with dots on its body, and another, smaller bison facing them. In all, there were a half-dozen animals painted on the rock wall!

  “Langda!” exclaimed Sam, which apparently meant “spirit of creatures that dance on the rock.”

  He was both fascinated and frightened. The stone had clearly taken them on a gigantic leap into the past. Were they in prehistoric times? Their primitive language seemed to confirm it. Despite his anxiety, Sam felt strangely elated. They’d studied prehistoric art in school, and he had often daydreamed over reproductions of these very same fifteen- or twenty-thousand-year-old paintings. He carefully picked up the grease lamp and held it next to the wall. A herd of deer burst out of nowhere, as if fleeing a predator’s attack. Sam and Lily had the first masterpieces of human history under their very eyes!

  “Na!” said Lily, pointing at something.

  Sam came closer. A nearly perfect red circle had been painted between one pair of antlers, as if the sun were rising behind the deer. Was this a rough draft of the strange U that had inspired Arkeos? Of course not! Sam told himself firmly. It could only be a coincidence; it was a vague resemblance at best.

  He set down the dish and took Lily’s hand to lead her toward what appeared to be the exit: a sloping passageway that rose about twenty yards to another large, dimly lit room.

  “Mingo, Ammy, mingo!”

  She was right. After making their way around various obstacles — rockfalls and stalagmites — they reached the cave entrance. It was on the edge of a rocky cliff above a river. The air was cool, the weather overcast, and the surroundings looked both wild and familiar: big trees, rushing water, stone outcroppings, and in the distance, grassy mountains. For a moment, Sam almost expected to see the long neck of a brontosaurus or the toothy jaws of a Baryonyx appear between the trees. But of course (with apologies to The Flintstones), tens of millions of years separated dinosaurs and prehistoric people — which was just as well!

  The only path went upward, so Sam and Lily climbed the hill, stopping often to check for movement and sound: birdsong, a distant growling, a rabbit hopping through the bushes.

  That’s when they saw it, its powerful brown head rising above some boulders barely a hundred yards away. Nose in the wind, it was sniffing for scents — sniffing their scent.

  “Igba! Igba!” screamed Lily.

  There was no gap in the vocabulary here. It was a bear, a huge bear!

  “Ngol!” Sam ordered.

  They ran back the way they’d come as fast as they could, bruising their feet on the rough ground. Behind them, the bear growled so loudly that the birds fell silent or flew away. Then it took off after them with surprising agility, its growls filling the air like thunder.

  “Nita, Ilil, nita!” Sam urged.

  By the time they reached the cave, the bear was only twenty yards behind them. Luckily, its weight caused a rockfall and it lost its balance.

  “Grrroarr!” roared the bear.

  Lily and Sam rushed into the cave, still hand in hand. Sam dragged her toward what he guessed was the passage leading to the stone statue, hoping the bear would be too bulky to follow them. Bursting into the dimly lit space, he picked up the lamp and searched for a place to hide. The caves ceiling was rough and its walls laced with cracks, but none were big enough to take shelter in. They could have tried to use the stone statue, but Sam knew from experience that it could take a full minute before it worked — much too long. And what if Lily got accidentally left behind, maybe forever? The bear roared in the distance, its growls multiplied by the echoes in the cave.

  “Ammy!” Lily was pointing up at something. Flowing water had carved a kind of natural chimney at the back of the chamber. Sam ran over to it. The vertical crack was about a foot and a half wide. If he gave Lily a leg up, she could probably climb into it. And then by using his arms …

  “Ilil! Nita!”

  She put her foot on the step he made with his locked fingers. She put her other foot on his shoulder, and Sam had to lean against the rock to remain upright under her weight.

  The bear was no longer growling, but in its place they could hear an ominous snuffling: It was tracking them. A rubbing noise on the rock revealed it had found the passageway and was getting close.

  “Nita, Ilil!” whispered Sam, grimacing.

  The burden on his shoulders lifted at the very moment that the bear burst in. It was gigantic, at least ten feet tall, with nightmare claws and evil little eyes that glittered in the darkness. It reared up on its hind legs with a growl of triumph, clawing at the wall. “Nita, Ammy,” Lily whispered to him.

  But Sam felt paralyzed by fear. Confident that its prey couldn’t escape, the bear came a few yards closer, shambling along like a big, harmless teddy bear — except it wasn’t coming f
or a playdate. In desperation, Sam waved his ridiculous lamp, but the bear seemed unimpressed by the tiny flame. The pathetic flicker cast a light on the stone statue adorned with the bones and animal skins; and for some inexplicable reason, the sight enraged the bear.

  “Grrouammmarrrr!” it roared.

  The bear threw its full weight at the stone, pounding it with huge paws until the rock shook. Blatn! Blatn! Chips flew into the air as the bear attacked the stone. It was going to destroy the stone statue!

  Sam finally snapped out of his daze.

  “Nounka igba,” he screamed with desperate rage, trying to get its attention. “Nounka, nounka!”

  The animal suddenly seemed to remember him, though that didn’t improve its vicious mood. It bounded smoothly over to Sam and gave him one last look before pulling back for the blow that would rip his head off.

  “Nangada igba gonka!” yelled a powerful voice behind it.

  The animal spun around, and Sam had the time to glimpse a hairy man armed with a spear, who was about to heave it at the bear. Then the rocky ceiling seemed to collapse on his head and everything went black.

  “Igba na katam,” someone said.

  Sam opened his eyes. It was almost night. He was lying on the ground with an animal skin pulled up to his chin. A bright fire was burning at the entrance to a nearby cave, with figures gathered around it. The fashion here definitely ran to hair growing out of every possible place: foreheads, ears, legs, arms … Chewbacca and family!

  “Igba noom noom!” said the one who was speaking to the group.

  The others agreed with little clicks of their tongues, and as Sam’s head cleared, he made an effort to understand what they were saying. The internal translation was wordy but effective.

  “I was collecting stones-with-colors to give blood and fur to the animals-that-dance-on-the rock,” said the speaker. “Then the big-male-standing-up growled and growled — igba noom noom. It came from the cave-where-animal-spirits-hide, up the hill,” he added, displaying a gift for suspense.

  Under the animal skin, Sam could feel that his arms and legs were tied. He was a prisoner. Very slowly he raised himself on one elbow to see if he could find his cousin. There were about fifteen people around the fire, men and women, but none resembled Lily — or ever would, even after a head-to-toe waxing. What had happened to her? Had she also been caught or had she managed to escape? Did she think he was dead? Assuming the stone statue was still standing, had she used it to go home?

  “I took the stick-that-stabs,” continued the speaker, “and went to see if the magic of the drawings had breathed life into the creatures-who-dance. The great igba was there, in the Cave of Spirits. He was hitting the Mother-stone with all his strength!”

  Hearing of the Mother-stone’s misfortune produced angry tongue clicks. As Sam’s eyes gradually adapted to the darkness, he was able to make out the bear’s skin, stretched over a frame of branches a few yards away. The animal had been cut into quarters. Pieces of meat were hanging under the shelter of the cave. So that’s where the stench was coming from!

  “Igba had torn the skins from the Mother-stone. Igba wanted the Mother-stone to be cold, so the drawing magic would not work!”

  The clan seemed to agree with this interpretation and showed its discontent by waving its fists at igba, who was in no shape to respond.

  “The stick-that-stabs went deep into igba’s stomach. He growled and growled — igba noom noom. Then the big-male-standing-up fell backward, and I saw the little-white-fur-man.”

  At once, all eyes turned to Sam, who barely had time to close his eyes and pretend to be asleep.

  “Bring him, Sharp-teeth,” ordered the speaker.

  A moment later Sam felt himself being lifted and his bonds untied. He pretended to have trouble awakening, and the tongue clicks turned quizzical. Sharp-teeth carried him effortlessly over to the clan group and sat him down near the fire. The others came closer to touch him. Stinking of grease, they inspected him every which way, fiddling with his hair, pinching his skin — they were surprised at how smooth it was — parting his lips to feel his tongue, and spreading his toes, amazed that he could walk on such small feet. All this was done with exclamations of surprise and occasionally disgust. It was as scary as The Night of the Living Dead, and Sam had to struggle not to shudder at the stroking or the smell.

  After a few moments, the speaker ended the introductions and spoke to him. “Where do you come from, little-white-fur-man?”

  Sam chose to keep quiet. He was afraid that if he couldn’t give a believable explanation, he might irritate these guys, all of whom were a full head taller and at least a hundred pounds heavier than he was.

  “He can’t talk,” concluded a woman. Her extraordinarily hairy mass reminded Sam of Mrs. Pinson, his music teacher, after a major blow-dry failure.

  “He can’t run either,” added her neighbor, pointing to Sam’s feet.

  “He could never hunt a long-nose with such skinny arms,” said a bearded man with a scarred cheek.

  “He isn’t like us,” added prehistory’s version of Mrs. Pinson. “Is he a two-legged screamer that has lost its fur?”

  “Two-legged screamers have long tails,” the speaker objected, “and they don’t often come close to the shelters-from-the-wind. The little-white-fur-man was in the Cave of Spirits when igba fell on him.”

  So that was it, thought Sam. He’d been knocked out by the weight of the falling bear!

  An old man who hadn’t spoken until then stood up and leaned on a crudely carved staff.

  “The clan must be careful,” he croaked. “Remember the words of He-who-comes-from-far! All those not of the clan who approach the Mother-stone must be killed! All of them!” He took two steps toward Sam and waved his staff under his nose. “They must be killed or the hunt will be bad, the streams will dry up, and the clan will have nothing to eat! That is what He-who-comes-from-far said. That is what the clan must do!”

  Sam couldn’t decide which was the most frightening: the old man’s ruined, scarred eye socket, the stench of his breath, or the decoration on top of his stick — a black bone shaped like a pair of horns with a round shell stuck between them. It was exactly like the strange U on the picture of the deer in the cave — the Arkeos symbol!

  The speaker objected, saying, “Come, Death-eye, I was only a child when He-who-comes-from-far visited our clan. He never came back, and many of our fathers said he was dangerous.”

  “Yes, he was dangerous, but he had power,” yelled the old man. “He could kill Sharp-teeth with a single glance, and the entire clan along with him! That is why we must obey him and kill all those who approach the Mother-stone. Or else he will return and kill us!”

  Just as Sam started thinking it might be time for him to say something, a high-pitched scream rang out: “ANIANIIIII!” The livelier ones seized their spears, but Death-eye grabbed Sam by the neck to keep him from moving.

  “IGBA ANIANIIIII!”

  “There, above the cave!” said the prehistoric Pinson, pointing.

  “The child-of-the-bear!” screamed the voice. “Release the child-of-the-bear! ”

  A horned demon had suddenly appeared a few yards above the flames, standing on top of the mouth of the cave, one foot extended into empty space. It had a bleached bear skull for a head, scraps of fur for its skin, and blood running down its arms. The orange glow from the fire combined with the pale moonlight to give the hideous creature an unearthly aura. The brave hunter aimed his spear, but the speaker stopped him as the demon screamed again: “Lightning and fire on the clan if you don’t give up the child-of-the-bear!”

  The frightened members of the tribe backed away, a few of them covering their ears or eyes. Even the hunter no longer seemed quite so eager to confront the horrible sight. Sam, however, welcomed the intrusion. Decked out in the skull and animal skins that covered the Mother-stone, Lily had come to rescue him!

  “Let him go, Death-eye!” the speaker ordered.

&nbs
p; The man did so regretfully, and Sam raced up to the cave mouth.

  Lily went on threatening the frightened group huddled at her feet. “Lightning and fire on whoever dares disturb the spirit of the big-male-standing-up!” she intoned.

  The warning must have hit home, because she and Sam took off running without anyone making a move to follow.

  “Hurry!” urged Lily, pointing Sam up the hill.

  Without turning around they ran to the spirit cave several hundred yards away and into its murky depths. It was only when they reached the stone statue that his cousin took off the furs and skull and carefully placed them next to the lamp. Her red-spattered gown looked as if it had been dipped in the bear’s blood. She took one of the two coins from the cavity and thrust it at him.

  “Quick, Sammy!”

  Though reluctant to use up one of his five coins, Sam realized they didn’t have any choice. As he slapped the ram’s head on the sun, he observed the great claw marks and fragments left by the bear. The animal had clearly tried to destroy the stone statue, but why?

  When Sam judged the humming was strong enough, he gripped his cousin by the waist and held her as tightly as he could. Only then did he put his hand on the stone’s rounded top.

  10 Slaves!

  With a loud thump, the two of them rolled against something hard. Lily remained hunched over with nausea for a moment while Sam tried to orient himself They were in a dark, low-ceilinged room with wooden machinery of some sort on the left and a rectangular porthole set in the wall. Sam stood up and put his eye to the scratched, blurry glass. The next room contained a huge vat of water and a waterwheel, which wasn’t turning at the moment. In their room, some mallets and tongs lay on the ground a little distance away, along with an oil lamp of a model distinctly more evolved than the one in the spirit cave. The stone statue stood against the opposite wall, but covered with such a thick layer of saltpeter that the carved sun was barely visible. Dampness oozed down the walls, and everything felt wet.