Heads, You Lose! Page 3

  I shivered. My back tingled. Bugs crawling up my back?

  Ryan turned and began jogging along the side of the wall. I followed after him. “Wait!” I called. “Ryan — stop!”

  He stopped and turned around. “We have to go one way or the other,” he said.

  I shook my head. A green bug fell out of my hair. “I’ve had enough,” I said. “Enough mystery. I’m getting us out of here.”

  Ryan mopped sweat off his forehead. He leaned against the stone wall. “How?” he demanded.

  I swung my backpack in front of me. Two fat green bugs were climbing on the straps. I slapped them away.

  I pulled my phone out. “Dad is home today,” I said. “I’m calling him to come get us.”

  I pushed the speed-dial number for my home and waited for Dad to answer.

  Silence.

  It didn’t ring at the other end.

  I pushed STOP. Then tried again.

  Silence.

  I raised the phone and studied it. The screen was dark. I pushed the power button. Nothing happened.

  “Maybe the battery is dead,” Ryan said.

  “No way!” I replied. “I charged it this morning.”

  I pushed a few more buttons. Still nothing happened. With a sigh, I shoved the phone back into the backpack.

  The strong sun beamed down on us, but I was shivering. I’m not easily frightened. But this was just too freaky.

  My leg itched. I scratched it and felt a squish under my shorts. Another green bug, I guessed.

  “Jessica —” Ryan started. “Maybe …”

  A horse whinnied.

  We stared at each other.

  “Did you hear that?” I said.

  The horse whinnied again.

  Ryan tapped the wall. “It’s on the other side,” he said. “Maybe there are people there, too.”

  The wall was about two or three feet taller than me. “Give me a boost,” I said.

  Ryan frowned. “You’re going over the wall? How will I get over?”

  “Didn’t you bring a ladder?” I joked. “You’re so short, you need a ladder to brush your hair!”

  “Ha-ha.” Ryan made a disgusted face. “That’s one of your dad’s worst jokes.”

  The horse whinnied again.

  “Boost me up to the top, and I’ll pull you up,” I said. “Come on — hurry. You want to get home, don’t you?”

  “If we still have homes,” Ryan muttered.

  He bent down and cupped his hands like a stirrup. I lowered my sneaker into his hands, and he lifted me up high enough to grab the top of the wall.

  I hoisted myself up. The top of the wall was about two feet wide. I balanced on my knees. Then I bent and helped Ryan scramble up beside me.

  On our knees on the wall, we both turned — and uttered cries of shock.

  “Ryan, where are we?”

  “A castle!” I cried. I pointed into the distance.

  A steamy mist clung to the ground. The building shimmered over the mist, pink and purple, like a fairytale castle.

  A wide yellow path led to the castle doors. A huge black-and-red banner fluttered on a tall flagpole high over the entrance.

  The building seemed to stretch for a mile, with pointed spires and tall towers on each end.

  “It looks like the castle at Disney World,” Ryan murmured. “Unreal!”

  “Unreal is the word,” I said. “How can this be happening? What happened to our school? Our neighborhood? Our houses?”

  We gazed at the shimmering castle. Then we turned and lowered ourselves to the ground.

  In front of us, a narrow wooden bridge arched over a thin sliver of water. On the other side of the bridge, I saw a row of small shacks. The shacks appeared to be slapped together with boards and gray mud. They had thatched roofs. No doors or windows — just square openings cut into the walls.

  Ryan and I strode across the bridge. The water beneath us was dark and still. The horse whinnied once more.

  “It’s over by those shacks,” I said, pointing. “Let’s find someone to help us.”

  There was no tall grass on this side of the wall. Here, the ground was yellow dirt. Our shoes kicked up clouds of dust as we trotted toward the row of shacks.

  I saw a fire, orange flames dancing in the soft breeze. A man stood working beside the fire.

  He was a big, powerful-looking man wearing a ragged outfit — a vest over his bare chest and baggy trousers that looked like they were made from an animal hide.

  He had long, scraggly hair that fell over his dark eyes, and a thick brown beard. His face was red and sweaty.

  He didn’t see us. He was concentrating on the tool in his hands. It had two handles, and he was squeezing it over the fire.

  I recognized it from a history book — a bellows.

  “He’s a blacksmith!” Ryan exclaimed.

  And then I saw two horses standing in a small stable behind the fire.

  The man’s biceps bulged as he pushed and pulled the bellows. With each push, it blew air onto the fire, making the flames jump.

  He didn’t see us until we stood a few feet away. I could feel the heat of the fire on my skin. I took a step back and pulled Ryan back with me.

  The man’s eyes went wide behind his tangles of hair. He gazed at us in surprise. His eyes traveled up and down as he studied us.

  Finally, he spoke in a gruff voice: “Is the Prince having a costume ball?”

  I didn’t know how to answer that question. Prince? Costume ball? What was he talking about? Why was he staring at Ryan and me like we were Martians or something?

  “We … we’re lost,” I finally blurted out. “Can you tell us where we are?”

  He tossed back his head and laughed.

  “No. Really,” Ryan said. “Where are we?”

  The blacksmith pointed to the far-off building. “Doesn’t the castle give you a clue?”

  The fire crackled. He picked up a huge pair of tongs and began heating them in the flames.

  “You cannot be lost if the castle is in front of you,” he said.

  My mind spun with questions. “What year is this?” I blurted out.

  He squinted at me. “I am but a blacksmith,” he said. “How would I know the year?”

  “But … we don’t have blacksmiths anymore,” I said. “We —”

  “Where do you come from?” he asked. Flames licked at his hands. It didn’t seem to bother him.

  “From Tampa,” Ryan answered.

  The blacksmith turned away from the fire. He studied us again. “Does the Prince of Tampa know you have fled his kingdom?”

  “Kingdom?” I said. “You don’t understand. Tampa is a city. In Florida. We live near the bay.”

  He frowned. I could see he didn’t like that answer.

  He set the tongs down on the forge. He brushed back his hair. His dark eyes grew cold.

  “Are you the ones the guards have been searching for?” he boomed.

  “N-no,” I stammered. “We just got here. We —”

  He took a step toward us. My heart started to pound. He suddenly looked so big and menacing.

  “Stay right there,” he ordered. “Do not make any attempt to escape.”

  Escape?

  He rumbled across the yellow dirt, waving his arms in front of him. “Guards! Guards!” he shouted. “Call for the guards!”

  “Guards! Call for the guards!”

  I could hear the blacksmith’s booming voice behind us as we ran. Our sneakers kicked up the yellow dirt.

  The two horses whinnied. We ran past the stable, along the row of open shacks.

  Heads poked out from the little huts. Two shaggy-haired kids pointed and shouted at us as we darted past. A woman carrying a small brown dog stood in her doorway, her eyes bulging.

  Ryan and I tore past a wooden cart brimming with hay. A man sat up drowsily in the hay as we went by.

  Two women dressed in layers of rags, with long scraggly hair falling from their gray scarves, jum
ped back when they saw us. They hugged each other, terrified.

  “Guards! Guards!”

  I could still hear the blacksmith’s alarmed shouts.

  Why was he calling the guards on us? Who did he think we were?

  “The wall — it goes on forever,” Ryan said breathlessly. “There’s no way out of here.”

  “We need a place to hide,” I said, panting hard.

  And then I let out a startled cry as I tripped over something in the dirt.

  I fell hard and landed on my elbows and knees. “Owwww.” Pain shot up my body.

  Ryan pulled me to my feet.

  I turned and picked up the object I had tripped over. “Ryan — check it out,” I said. Holding the handle with both hands, I raised the heavy blade in front of him.

  “Remember? We saw this during our class trip to the museum? It’s a battle-ax.”

  “Huh?” Ryan stared at it. “You mean like knights used in battle?”

  I didn’t have a chance to answer him. A net dropped over us. A metal mesh net, so heavy it slammed us both to our knees.

  Through the net, I saw uniforms. Long black coats. Black trousers with red stripes down the side. Shiny black boots.

  A group of guards.

  “Let us go!” Ryan screamed. He thrashed both arms at the net, but it was too heavy to budge.

  “Let us out of here!” I cried.

  One of the guards leaned close to the net. He wore a black-and-red scarf under his long coat. A square red hat tilted on his head. He waved a sword in one hand.

  He had cold gray eyes and a triumphant smile on his face.

  “Captured!” he cried to the others. “We have captured the two villains! And look, guards — they still have the weapon they used to kill the Prince!”

  “This isn’t happening,” Ryan muttered. “Did we step into an old movie or something?”

  “It’s like we went back in time!” I whispered. “But … that’s impossible — right?”

  I always get dizzy when I’m afraid. And believe me, the whole room was spinning.

  The guards had dragged us into the castle. And now we were standing in an enormous chamber. It looked like it belonged in a video game about battling knights.

  The gray stone walls rose high around us. They were covered with old-fashioned weapons. Round metal shields lined one wall. Long, pointed lances hung crisscrossed above them.

  A shiny suit of armor stood at one tall doorway. It gripped a battle-ax in its metal glove. Up near the ceiling on one of the walls, a row of black-and-red flags jutted out on long poles. Dozens of swords with wide metal blades leaned against another wall draped with dark red curtains.

  Flickering wall torches made the light dance over us. The guards surrounding us kept disappearing into the shadows. Then they would reappear in the firelight, their faces hard and cold under their square hats.

  A black-uniformed guard in high red boots strode across the room to greet us. He gripped a sword at his side.

  Wavy red hair poked out over his forehead. He had tiny round green eyes and a clipped red mustache.

  “So the young assassins have been captured!” he cried. His voice echoed off the high stone walls.

  “We’re not assassins,” I managed to choke out. My voice trembled. So did my legs. “We didn’t kill anyone!”

  He stared hard at Ryan, then at me. “Are those strange costumes supposed to frighten us? To confuse us?”

  Strange costumes? I was wearing school clothes — a blue T-shirt and white cargo shorts. Ryan wore faded jeans and a black polo shirt.

  “Why didn’t you flee the castle when you had a chance?” the guard asked, still eyeing us up and down. “Do you not value your heads?”

  I gasped. Ryan made a gulping sound.

  “We’re not assassins,” I repeated. “You’re making a big mistake. We didn’t kill anyone! You’ve got to believe us!”

  “We don’t know where we are!” Ryan declared. “Really. We don’t know who you are! We don’t know anything about this!”

  The guard tossed back his head and laughed. “Do you take me for a fool?” he said. “Were you not captured with your weapon in hand?”

  “No! It wasn’t ours!” I cried. “We found it in the dirt!”

  His smile grew wider beneath the thin red mustache. “I promise you will confess to your crime before the day is over.”

  “This isn’t going well,” I whispered to Ryan.

  “We need a good escape trick,” Ryan muttered. He was trying to sound brave. But his face had turned pale, and I could see his chin quivering.

  “Do not speak of escape,” the guard said. “You will not be leaving this castle with your heads.”

  He waved his men forward. “This way,” he ordered. “To their doom.”

  The torches along the wall flickered and danced as we marched under them. In the dim light, I saw a scrawny rat scamper under the heavy red drapes. Chill after chill rolled down my back. These men weren’t kidding. They really believed Ryan and I were assassins.

  It should be easy to prove that we’re not killers, I thought. But will they believe us? Will they even listen to us?

  The guards forced us into another chamber. A smaller room with dark green walls. A huge chandelier hung down from the ceiling. It cast bright light from hundreds of candles.

  Flames danced in a tall fireplace. Torches blazed along the walls.

  Beneath the chandelier, two men were seated in tall chairs at a long table. They were eating lunch. Their food was piled high on round silver plates. They were drinking from tall metal goblets.

  They stood up as we walked in. They both wore long purple robes. The tall one was completely bald. His head glowed under the bright candles. He had coffee-colored skin, dark eyes, a long, pointed nose, and a deep scar that ran down one side of his face.

  “Bow your heads before the Duke of Earle,” the guard ordered us.

  I didn’t think about it. I bowed my head.

  The man beside the Duke had the hood of his robe pulled over his head. His long white Santa beard came halfway down his chest. His dark eyes studied us. His hands were clasped tightly in front of him.

  “Bow your heads to Henway, the Prince’s Wizard,” the guard ordered.

  Ryan and I bowed our heads again.

  Henway’s hood fell back. He had flowing white hair to match his beard.

  The Duke turned to the Wizard. “I shall bet you the girl confesses first,” he said. “Would you like to bet five dumas?”

  Henway frowned and shook his head. “No more betting, Alfred,” he said sharply. “Your constant gambling has gotten you into much trouble before. Alfred, have you not learned your lesson?”

  The Duke shrugged. “An innocent bet. To pass the time.”

  “You have the betting sickness,” Henway scolded.

  The Duke smiled at that. “Not a sickness. An enjoyable game.”

  Henway made a disgusted sound. He stepped up close to Ryan and me. His robe smelled bad, as if it had never been washed. He rubbed a hand through his thick beard and stared at us.

  Henway waved the guards back. They retreated to the doorway and stood there stiffly alert.

  “You assassins will be brought to a quick justice,” he said.

  “But you’re wrong!” I cried. “We are not assassins!”

  The Duke snickered. “Then why have you disguised yourselves in those strange costumes?” he demanded.

  “S-strange costumes?” I stammered.

  “This is what we wear to school every day,” Ryan said.

  Both men snickered at that. They exchanged glances.

  “We’re telling the truth!” I cried. My voice came out high and shrill.

  “Why did you sneak onto the castle grounds?” the Duke asked.

  “We didn’t sneak,” I said. “We —”

  “We don’t know how we got here!” Ryan exclaimed.

  Henway scratched his beard. The Duke laughed. “Surely you can come up with a
better answer than that!” he said. “Why don’t you say you arrived on a cloud? Or rode on the back of a dragon?”

  They both laughed at that.

  “How did you get here? Tell us,” the Duke insisted.

  “Really!” I cried. “We don’t know!”

  “Where do you come from?” Henway asked.

  “Tampa,” Ryan and I said together.

  “A fantasy kingdom!” Henway said. “The Prince has a whole library of maps. And in all those maps there is no Kingdom of Tampa.”

  “Can you not give an honest answer to a single question?” the Duke demanded.

  “Must I conjure a spell to draw the truth from you?” Henway asked.

  Ryan turned to me. “I think we’re in major trouble here,” he whispered.

  Ryan was right. They didn’t believe a word we said. Every answer we gave dug us deeper into trouble.

  I took a deep breath. “Something strange has happened,” I told them. “Ryan and I come from a different time. I — I think we’ve gone back in time.”

  The room began to spin. I felt dizzy again. I realized I was terrified. Was I really talking about time travel?

  “We really don’t know how we got here,” Ryan said. “But … look at us. We’re just kids. No way we are assassins! We didn’t kill anybody!”

  “More lies,” the Duke said softly.

  “Very clever lies,” Henway said. “But lies just the same.”

  “Very clever disguises, too,” the Duke said. “They really do look like children.”

  He rubbed the scar on the side of his face, thinking hard. Then he turned back to the Wizard. “Would you care to bet on how old they really are? Three dumas?”

  Henway waved the Duke away. “No betting, Alfred. Please try to control yourself.”

  Henway turned away from the Duke and frowned at us. His dark eyes went cloudy. “Your violent act has tossed the kingdom into sorrow and chaos,” he said. “Prince Warwick shall have his revenge!”

  Huddled close to me, Ryan made another gulping sound. My whole body suddenly went cold all over.

  No one likes to hear the word revenge.

  My mind spun with ideas. I thought about my dad’s best escape trick. No way it could help Ryan and me. You need a tall mirror to do it.