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

Author:Ashmore, Carl [Ashmore, Carl]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Children's Books, Action & Adventure, Children's eBooks, Literature & Fiction, Science Fiction; Fantasy & Scary Stories, Science Fiction, Time Travel
Amazon: B00BFHVSEE
Goodreads: 18686140
Publisher: Addlebury Press
Published: 2012-02-12T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 19

Utterly Butterby

An hour later, Becky was woken from a deep sleep by the shrill, staccato yelp of Marian, Will’s Golden Eagle, somewhere in the grounds. She looked at her clock: 2.45. They were leaving in fifteen minutes.

Leaping out of bed, she began to dress. As she checked herself out in the mirror, she glimpsed a flash of metal on the dressing table: Orff’s knife. Walking over, she picked it up and withdrew it slowly from its sheath, its razor sharp blade gleaming in the dull light. Soundlessly, she slipped it into her cloak pocket and left the room.

Walking down the narrow, portrait-lined corridors, she weaved right and approached Joe’s bedroom door. She was about to knock when it opened with a bang.

‘Oh, you’re here,’ Joe said, panting. ‘I’ve just text you. I fell asleep and only woke up a minute ago.’

Becky scanned him top to bottom; stopping halfway, her expression froze into a mask of joy. Clearly visible beneath his black cloak, was something she didn’t expect to see. ‘You’re wearing a skirt?’ she sniggered.

‘It’s a kilt.’

‘It’s a skirt,’ Becky howled.

‘It’s a kilt,’ Joe said, his voice rising slightly.

‘I’ve seen that style in Primark. It’s a skirt.’

‘No it’s not.’

‘I thought you’d become the all-new action hero. I don’t remember Captain America wearing a skirt.’

‘It’s a kilt,’ Joe growled. ‘Will wore one to Ancient Crete. You didn’t take the mickey out of him.’

‘Will hasn’t got twiglets for legs.’

Joe told her in no uncertain terms where she could stick her twiglets.

Becky and Joe left the Hall to find the snow was melting fast; rigid blades of grass pushed through the remaining muddy white sludge like matchsticks. An amber sun was high overhead, bisected every now and again by wisps of puffy white cloud.

Despite the relative warmth, Becky found her Egyptian outfit far too flimsy to dawdle and marched quickly beside Joe to Uncle Percy’s laboratory, where they found the door wide open. Inside, Uncle Percy and Will were standing at the far wall, each wearing identical outfits to Joe (although both had swords), and talking quietly about something long and cylindrical in Uncle Percy’s hand.

The second Uncle Percy saw Becky and Joe he slipped the object hastily into his cloak pocket. Unfortunately for him, Becky noticed. ‘What’s that?’

‘What’s what?’

‘That thing you just put in your pocket hoping we wouldn’t see.’

‘Oh, it’s nothing,’ Uncle Percy replied quickly. ‘Anyway, I’m delighted your costumes fit, so shall we -’

‘Why is everyone trying to hide things from us?’ Becky asked irritably.

‘We’re not. I’m not. I just, err, well we have to get going and wouldn’t you rather meet Blanche?’

‘No,’ Becky said. ‘I want to know what’s in your pocket. Is it what Butterby was holding?’

‘Mister Butterby, if you please.’

‘Mister Butterby then.’

‘No, it’s not,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘Now would you like to meet Blanche?’

Becky opened her mouth to challenge again when Joe said, ‘Shut up, Becky. It’s none of your business. And I want to see Blanche.’

Seeing that Becky was about to blow her top, Uncle Percy said, ‘Come on then, Joe.

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