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SIX




François adjusted his newly acquired tunic, having shed the ragged modern clothing they’d been wearing through two different ages, and gazed on the dark, gaping maw of the Well of the Beast. The air was heavy with a tangible sense of dread, the kind that clings to your skin and seeps into your bones. Around him, the team gathered—Marty, Surjan, Lowanna, Gunther, and Kareem—each wearing expressions of grim determination.

Surjan stepped forward, his voice steady as he addressed the group. “I’ve had the chance to talk with a lot of eyewitnesses,” he began, his eyes flickering with the reflection of the torches that lit the ancient stone around the well’s entrance. “The locals are terrified. They’re losing livestock, and worse, two children have gone missing. One was taken right from her crib at night.”

François felt a chill snake up his spine.

“Wait a minute,” Marty interjected. “Shouldn’t we be at the well where this happened, or did something also happen here in the palace’s well?”

“It seems to be that the last incident was here at the palace.” Surjan held a grim expression. “The queen told me in great detail how one of the palace servant’s children yelled in fear. Evidently the former king responded, seeing the child’s feet as they disappeared into the well. His failure to rescue her sealed his fate.”

Lowanna frowned. “Are you sure she we’re getting the full story of what happened?” She frowned. “I don’t mean to disparage your new partner”—the tall Sikh’s expression soured—“but she strikes me as the scheming type.”

Surjan nodded. “I don’t trust Halpa’s motivations, but her fear of what’s purported to be in this well I think is genuine,” he said. His voice remained steady as he continued, his face shadowed by the flickering light. “Descriptions of the creatures are sparse but consistent—tall, lithe figures, big eyes, and skin like gray salamanders.” He paused, his gaze meeting each of theirs in turn. “One witness claimed to have come face-to-face with one. She described it wearing a shiny rock on its nose.”

“A shiny rock?” François asked, his tone skeptical. “Considering these people are mostly still at a Stone Age level of technology, that sounds suspiciously like how someone might describe a metal nose ring.”

At this, a collective gasp rippled through the group. François exchanged looks with the others; their faces reflected the same shock and recognition. They had encountered beings adorned with nose rings before—creatures from ancient Egyptian lore.

Creatures of extraterrestrial origin.

“If we are actually facing creatures similar to those we battled in Egypt, then these creatures from the well aren’t going to be a trivial thing to deal with,” Marty said, his voice low but fierce.

“And those kids have probably been eaten a long time ago.” Kareem’s voice carried a sinister edge as he drew his sharpened ankh from a hidden sheath under his tunic. “I’m looking forward to this encounter.”

Gunther shook his head and sighed. “I don’t suppose there’s much choice in this. We have missing and likely dead kids. That’s something we can’t ignore.”

Lowanna, who had been quiet, spoke up with a determined glint in her eye. “Then we go down. We find these creatures, and we find the children. Whatever it takes.”

François felt the weight of guilt on his shoulders. He wasn’t the fighter in this group. He wouldn’t be the one who’d avenge anyone’s death in the traditional sense, nor would he be much help in defense of the palace if one of these things came to attack.

He’d have to find another way to help. “Um, guys. You weren’t exactly thinking of just climbing down there totally blind, were you?”

Marty turned to him and asked, “Did you have another idea? If so, I’m all ears.”

“Well, why don’t we try to lure one of these things out and see what we’re dealing with first?” François posited. “They eat meat, it sounds like. Why don’t we put a stake in the ground here, tie a goat to it, and keep watch?” He turned to Surjan and grinned. “You’re the new king, surely you can find us a goat that we can use.”

Surjan nodded. “I’ll see what I can do—”

“Good.” François patted the large man on the shoulder. “While you do that, I saw some passable items I think might form the basis of a nice pulley system we can use to create a trap.”

“That sounds great,” Marty said and began talking with the others on how they might best leverage François’s idea of a lure and trap.

François studied the martial arts master and hired linguist and felt a surge of satisfaction at his choice for hiring him. If nothing else, the Frenchman knew where his own skills lay, and one of them was certainly in picking the right people for the tasks at hand. Marty was a good leader and organizer.

The man’s skills would certainly be tested in this first of many tasks to come.


In the center of a large, walled courtyard lay the Well of the Beast, and dominating a significant part of the space, François had laid a reinforced fishing net across the floor between the well mouth and the courtyard’s entrance. The only light came from a flickering torch near the door leading into the palace, but it provided enough illumination for François as he hammered a wooden tension stake into the ground with a large, smooth rock. He paused only at the sounds of the thudding of feet and a man cursing outside the courtyard.

With a loud grunt, Surjan entered the courtyard, pulling on a rope attached to a massive llama. Its head towered over Surjan, and the beast had to weigh at least four hundred pounds. It began making loud, shrill-pitched vocalizations, its eyes widening as it took in the presence of the others on the team.

“That has got to be the biggest llama I’ve ever seen,” François remarked.

Lowanna made soothing noises as she approached the beast, shifting to guttural utterances that sounded as though her throat was full of phlegm, and extending her hand toward the unruly animal. “I can’t believe it.”

Suddenly, the llama shifted its attention toward Lowanna and responded with a phlegm-filled utterance of its own.

“Be careful,” Surjan warned. “This thing likes to spit and bite.”

“It’s okay.” Lowanna approached cautiously, making more animalistic sounds. “He’s just afraid.” She cooed softly and whispered to the beast, which towered over her. “We’re not going to hurt you.” She laid her hand on the beast’s fur-laden haunch, and its muscles twitched nervously, but it remained focused on Lowanna. It responded with more guttural intonations, and she began raking her fingers through the animal’s fur. Turning to Surjan, she exclaimed, “Do you have any idea what you’ve got here? This is a Hemiauchenia macrocephala. They’ve been extinct for over ten thousand years. Not since the last ice age has anyone seen one of these alive.”

Marty tilted his head, eyeing the beast. “Are you sure?”

“I’m not an idiot,” Lowanna shot back with a glare. “Of course, I’m sure. This guy’s facial structure and build are totally different from the llamas that are native to this continent, and heck, llamas aren’t even native to North America. They were brought here from South America in modern times. No, this guy is definitely a Hemiauchenia macrocephala.”

“I told you guys!” François said, smiling. “And the presence of this beast only confirms what I said. I’m guessing we’re in a place that exists about eleven thousand years before any of us were born.”

Marty stared at the beast a few seconds and nodded. “Okay, then. I guess we have our lure.” He turned to Lowanna. “Is our no-longer-extinct llama okay? All we need is for his scent to be detected and maybe for him to make some noises for us.”

“I can probably make the noises if it doesn’t cooperate,” Kareem said with a furrowed brow. He then let out a loud, high-pitched, and rapid braying sound that almost perfectly emulated the panicked vocalizations the llama had initially made upon entering the courtyard.

The creature turned toward the teen and lowered its head, almost as if trying to discern whether the young Egyptian was some kind of mutated kin.

“That’ll be excellent, Kareem.” François tightened the tension on the ropes holding the net in place. “The moment the beast in the well crosses the tripwire, it’ll be engulfed in the net, and we can at least know what we’re dealing with.” He turned to the team, most of whom were gathered along the edge of the courtyard near the exit, and asked, “Are you all ready?”

Everyone nodded, and Marty said, “François, this is your show. Just be clear on what you’re expecting us to do.”

“For now, just keep off the net and don’t be a distraction.” François turned to Surjan. “The llama is fine?”

Surjan turned to Lowanna, who was stroking the animal’s furry neck. She turned to François and said, “He’s fine. Just not particularly excited about being indoors with so many people. We might need Kareem’s help if you need a reliable call on cue.”

“Kareem, you good with that?” François asked.

The teen nodded. “Sure.”

François checked the ropes and the tripwire one last time, skirted around the net, and joined the others. He turned to Kareem and said, “Make one of those calls.”

Kareem took a deep breath and issued a startlingly accurate high-pitched braying sound that seemed to agitate the llama as the sound echoed across the courtyard.

François carefully watched where he stepped and approached Kareem. “Can you do that again, but this time into the well itself? We want to maximize the chance that whatever’s down there can hear it.” Kareem nodded, and just as he was about to proceed, François grabbed the teen’s upper arm and whispered, “Once you do it, come right back. We need to trap this thing. Not vice versa.”

Kareem carefully skirted past the trap and almost disappeared into the shadows of the dimly lit courtyard as he leaned over the lip of the well, repeated the call, and quickly scuttled back to the group. Silence engulfed them as they waited, listening for any noise or sign of movement.

Nothing.

“Again,” François whispered after a tense minute had passed.

With a nod, Kareem approached the well again, leaned over the edge, and peered down into the darkness. He made another llama call, this time louder and more desperate. Scrambling back, he rejoined the group. They listened—and listened. Kareem’s ears twitched; he tilted his head and murmured, “I heard something.”

Surjan nodded.

François hadn’t heard anything; he looked to Marty, Lowanna, and Gunther, and they all shook their heads. With his heart thudding loudly in his chest, the Frenchman stared at the well, waiting for a sign of something to appear.

The llama shuffled its feet with impatience as everyone focused silently on the well.

Five agonizing minutes ticked by.

“One more time,” François said, his voice taut with urgency.

Kareem approached the well once more. He cupped his hands around his mouth, preparing to make another call when suddenly, long, gray arms—thin and sinewy—shot out from the darkness of the well with terrifying swiftness.

François’s heart lurched as the arms grasped Kareem.

In a blur of motion, the teen was yanked over the side of the well. The sound of ropes whizzing through the air exploded as Kareem’s disappearing leg managed to trigger the trap.

Pandemonium broke out among the team.

Everyone rushed to the well’s edge, shouting Kareem’s name.




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