Free Time Hunters and the Spear of Fate, The by Carl Ashmore Page A

Fate; and the astonishing
revelation about Atlantis.
    It was all too much to take in.
    There was no sign of Maria or Jacob
as they passed through the kitchen and into the passageway that led to the
Entrance Hall.
    Before she knew it, Becky was lying
on her bed, clutching her pillow to her chest and thinking about what Miriam
Potts might have done to earn such a commendation from Uncle Percy.
    It was 9.30 when she and Joe
gathered at the library door. As always, the door to Bowen Hall library was
locked.
    As a far-off clock sounded the half
hour, Becky heard a snapping sound from the other side of the door,
which she recognised as a portravella. A moment later, a key turned in the
lock, and the door opened to reveal Uncle Percy, a relieved smile on his face.
    ‘You’ll be pleased to know everyone is
safe, and we’ve suffered no significant casualties – well, apart from
Ermintrude Abbot’s glass eye which popped into a bowl of punch in the uproar,
but she’s got plenty of others. Apparently, it happens all the time.’ Ushering
Becky and Joe into the room, he swiftly locked the door again, before
unclipping the portravella from his wrist and sliding it into his pocket.
    Entering the library, Becky was
surprised by the state it was in. She expected it to be coated in dust and
smell of old socks, but this looked like a bombsite. At least a dozen
whiteboards were scattered haphazardly across the vast floor, each one covered
with writing, complex mathematical equations, Egyptian hieroglyphics, and other
strange symbols she didn’t recognize; most notably, one board seemed to be
taken up with multiple versions of the same pictogram: a giant wheel with a
jet-black sun in its center. The central circular table was buckling under the
weight of a tower of leather-bound books, old and new, and every inch of floor
space was covered in flattened parchments and sandstone tablets with unusual
markings etched into them.
    ‘Nice to see you’re keeping the
place clean,’ Becky quipped.
    Uncle Percy nodded absentmindedly as
he pulled up three chairs and set them at the table. ‘As you can see I’ve been
rather busy.’
    ‘Is this all to do with the Spear of
Fate?’ Joe asked, scanning the room.
    ‘Yes,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘Ever
since Imran told me about the Sonchis Scroll, I’ve been researching prominent
spears and staves in history, legend and mythology. It turns out there are more
examples that you’d think: Shiva’s Trishula; The staff of Moses; Aaron’s Rod;
The Holy Lance; even Satan himself is often depicted with a pitchfork. Anyway,
my investigations have taken me to numerous timelines, countries and cultures,
from Ancient Sumer, to the Neo-Babylonian empire, the Great library of
Alexandria and, finally, even a short but fruitful visit to the Hofburg museum
in Vienna in 1926.’
    ‘And what did you find out?’ Becky
asked keenly.
    ‘Well, quite a bit,’ Uncle Percy
said. ‘And very little …’ He gave a mirthless chuckle. ‘The most intriguing
legend is that it ended up in Egypt many thousands of years ago, hidden in an
underground temple.’
    Becky felt the hair stand on the
back of her neck.
    ‘An underground temple?’ Joe gasped.
    ‘Yes,’ Uncle Percy said. ‘But the
trail for any lost temple went cold pretty quickly.’
    ‘So how does Miriam Potts fit into
all of this?’ Becky asked.
    Uncle Percy shuffled uncomfortably
on his chair. ‘Well, as it turns out, certain other parties throughout history must’ve heard of The Spear of
Fate and were keen to find it, too. Miriam travelled back in time and, at great
personal risk, managed to retrieve some communiqué that has proved most helpful
for our search. In fact, it brings a few strands of this story together, along
with some personal elements I shall explain later.’
    ‘What type of communiqué?’ Becky
asked.
    ‘She managed to acquire a letter. A
very important letter.’
    ‘Who from?’ Joe asked.
    Uncle Percy stood up, approached one
of