Stone fingers now clutched the ruby eye.
“No,” he moaned in horror.
Terrified, he stared across at the row of Egyptian warriors and realized that his expression now matched theirs. He suddenly understood why he had been summoned here.
“The curse …” the figure rasped at him, “… upon whoever tries to take the Eye from its resting place.”
The voice drew up behind him. Nassor could not even turn as the petrifying coldness froze his neck. He had been tricked, brought here to draw the curse to himself.
Nassor fought against it, crying out, “YOU MUST NOT—” But his frantic plea died as his tongue turned to stone.
“Ah, but I must …” the figure whispered in his ear.
An arm reached around, and iron fingers settled on the fiery gem. The Eye of Ra was pried from Nassor’s stony grip. Nassor wanted to turn, to see the face of the man who had doomed him; but he could no longer move, no longer speak, no longer breathe. As his ears turned deaf and his vision grew black, Nassor heard the man whisper a final threat—not against Nassor, but against someone else. The cold words followed him down into the darkness.
“With this, I will make Jake Ransom suffer.”
PART ONE
Three Weeks Later
1
EYES OF FIRE
Most days, people don’t kick you in the head.
For Jacob Bartholomew Ransom, it was just another Monday. He lay flat on his back on the blue practice mat. His ears rang, and bits of light fluttered across his vision. He’d been a second slow in blocking the roundhouse kick from his opponent.
“Are you okay?” the other boy asked.
Brandon Phan was two years older than Jake and the star pupil of the North Hampshire School of Tae Kwon Do, a junior black belt. He held out a hand to help Jake to his feet. Brandon was half Vietnamese, evident only from a slight pinch at the corners of his eyes, as if he were just about to laugh. Like Jake, he wore a belted white uniform called a gi.
Jake took the offered hand and allowed himself to be pulled up. “Didn’t see that coming,” he said with a shake of his head. “Felt like I got kicked by a mule.”
Brandon grinned. They had been sparring for three months. Jake had not been content with the usual three classes a week. He had wanted more practice. Luckily, Brandon had taken a shine to him and agreed to help Jake hone his skill. They had the dojang hall to themselves for another fifteen minutes.
“You’re getting better,” his friend said. “Before you know it, you’ll be teaching me.”
“Yeah, right.” Jake shook his head to clear away the cobwebs.
Still, he had to admit that he was getting better. Last week, he’d traded his blue Tae Kwon Do belt for a red one. The belt’s new color was meant to caution others, to warn them that the student had the skill but not the control of a black belt.
Jake couldn’t disagree with that assessment.
These past weeks he’d been pushing himself too hard, becoming reckless and sloppy—but he couldn’t help himself. Though it was late June, the events from three months ago remained as fresh as if they’d only happened yesterday. Just this morning, Jake had awoken with his sheets knotted, a scream trapped in his throat, grappling with a winged monster from his nightmares and into the morning’s brightness.
In that dream, Jake had been transported back to the prehistoric past, returning to a time before the continents had broken apart, when the world was just one big supercontinent, a land called Pangaea, meaning “All-World.”
And indeed it had proved to be all worlds.
Jake had visited the place himself in real life.
Across history, lost tribes of mankind—Mayas, Egyptians, Romans, Vikings, Native Americans, and many others—had been stranded there, stolen from their own times and dropped into that savage landscape of marauding dinosaurs and primeval forests. To survive, they had banded together and found shelter in the valley of Calypsos, protected by ancient technology left over from Atlantis.
In his nightmare last night, Jake had returned to Pangaea and was being hunted by a pack of winged and clawed creatures called grakyl, the monstrous minions of Kalverum Rex, the horrific Skull King of Pangaea. Even now Jake could hear the screeches of the grakyl deep inside him, as if the Skull King were still searching for him.
And maybe he was.
So Jake knew that he had better be prepared.
As if reading his mind, Brandon backed up a step and fixed Jake with a steely stare. “Ready?”
That was a good question. Jake had better be ready. For the past few days, a strange pressure had been building in his chest. Like a storm was coming.
“Let’s go again.” Jake brushed his sandy blond hair out of his eyes and took a defensive stance, balancing on the balls of his feet.
Though Brandon was older, they were evenly matched in size. Jake studied his opponent’s face, looking for a clue to show how he would attack. The Japanese taught to watch the eyes of an attacker. The Chinese believed it was better to stare at an opponent as a whole.
Brandon studied Jake just as intently—then his friend’s eyes flew wide-open, shining with shock and disbelief. His gaze shifted past Jake’s shoulder. The hairs on the back of Jake’s neck prickled. Reacting on instinct, he dropped and twisted around. The front window of the school exploded as a black sedan hopped the curb and barreled straight toward them.
Already crouched, Jake lunged and hit Brandon at the waist, knocking them both out of the car’s path. The front bumper brushed Jake’s toes. He landed and rolled with Brandon across the practice floor.
The sedan roared past them and slammed into the back wall with a crunch of metal.
Jake flew to his feet, hauling up the stunned Brandon.
Across the room, the sedan’s engine sputtered and died. Smoke rose from under the crumpled hood.
Jake took a step toward the wreckage. Despite his pounding heart, he had to make sure no one was hurt.
“Careful,” Brandon warned.
Jake smelled gasoline. Oily liquid was pouring from under the smoking car. Shouts rose from the street outside. Others were hurrying to the site of the accident—if it was an accident.
Dread iced through Jake. Ahead, the smoke grew thicker and blacker. Jake approached the trunk of the car and peered through the rear window. He expected to find a slumped figure behind the wheel.
But no one was there.
He stepped closer as gasoline spread over his bare toes. His eyes were burning from the smoke, but he had to be sure. He couldn’t just abandon someone in trouble. He leaned toward the side window and checked the front and back seats.