The next day Horace was consumed by thoughts of his dream. It was the end of the weekend, and as he finished up his homework, he couldn’t stop thinking of the strange images and what they might mean. Who were the boys? What was the prophecy they mentioned? And where was this mysterious tomb?
It wasn’t until much later in the afternoon, while at his grandparents’ farm, that Horace finally had the time to think about the dream. The family had returned to the farm to clean and move out the last of his grandparents’ belongings. After an hour of helping his sisters roll up oriental carpets, vacuum the wood floors, and move boxes of old clothes and framed photos up from the basement into the front hall, Horace wandered outside for a little break. As soon as he stepped out into the open field behind the farmhouse, Shadow swooped down and brushed Horace’s tangled hair with a wing before soaring back up in the air.
Over the weeks since his adventures through the sycamore tree, Horace had grown ever closer to the beautiful falcon. She circled around in the blue fall sky and then dove toward the ground, this time brushing the back of his neck with her soft tail feathers. Horace let out a loud laugh as she tickled his skin.
Shadow almost never left his side anymore. At night she kept watch from a perch on his bedroom windowsill and then followed him each morning as he rode his bike to school. During lunch she’d stare watchfully from the chain-link fence across the field while he played with his friends. Even in the afternoon, as he sat in class with the other sixth-graders listening to Mr. Petrie’s endless lectures, outside she circled overhead, diligently waiting for the school bell to ring and Horace to emerge for the afternoon. The other kids had also grown accustomed to her presence—everyone except for Seth. The scars on his forearm from her attack a month earlier were still raw. And while he had been a great ally when they had time-traveled to Egypt, immediately upon their return to school, Seth had reverted to his old bullying ways.
This afternoon was no different. Shadow spiraled and twisted in the air while Horace walked across the open field. The rest of the family was inside the farmhouse while Horace wandered around. He was happy to have a little fresh air to make sense of the strange dream from the night before and take inventory of all he’d experienced since his grandfather’s death. The painful memory of that event always resurfaced when he returned to the farm.
The circumstances surrounding his grandfather’s death had sent Horace on a desperate scavenger hunt for answers. But the hunt had only revealed more secrets, which even now he struggled to make sense of, particularly in light of the strange dream.
Weeks before, Horace had uncovered a hidden doorway in his grandfather’s office that led to a tunnel under the farm. The tunnel connected the house with an old sycamore tree in the backyard. When Horace had first found the tunnel, he thought he had discovered a forgotten remnant of the Underground Railroad. However, the intended use of the tunnel, which ended just feet from the sycamore tree, was not at all connected to this well-known chapter in Nile’s history. It was tied to an even greater and older secret. Hidden within the bark of the tree was a doorway to Ancient Egypt. The discovery of this portal and the scarab beetle that unlocked it had changed Horace’s life.
The scarab beetle was a small stone amulet, which had proven to be more than just an ancient souvenir dating back to Egypt. It was also a powerful key that unlocked a portal across time. The beetle connected Horace to his grandfather and an order of guardians known as the Keepers of Time. But this had also raised questions for Horace. What did it truly mean to be a Keeper of Time? How far back did the Order stretch? Were there any other Keepers today or in Niles?
As Horace wandered around the field, kicking at piles of leaves that had accumulated, other questions began to surface. Were there more portals to be discovered, places besides Egypt to explore, and other secrets of the Time Keepers to be revealed? Who were the Time Keepers? What did it mean to be part of the Order? What was his role? It was this growing list of questions that kept Horace awake most nights, staring at the model airplanes dangling from his ceiling.
He turned his attention back to Shadow. “Where do you think Herman went?” he asked as Shadow circled overhead. “Did he go back to Egypt?” Herman was the enigmatic figure who had given Horace the beetle, showing up at his house unannounced the first week of school.
Shadow let out a shrill cry and swooped up toward the sky.
As a friend of his grandfather’s and a mentor to Horace, Herman had introduced Horace into the secrets of the Order, answering many of his initial questions. But after the last adventure through the portal and a climactic battle at the farm, Herman had disappeared. What made his disappearance even more upsetting was the fact that he had also taken with him the Benben Stone, a powerful relic that Horace had helped to recover. Herman had refused to tell Horace where he was taking it, making Horace feel both helpless and frustrated. He desperately wanted to make his grandfather proud and fulfill his legacy as a Keeper, but Herman had hinted that the boy had much to learn before he could be trusted to watch over the most prized artifact of the Order.
The Benben Stone was an ancient artifact that Horace and his friends had recovered from King Tut’s uncle Smenk. The stone contained many great powers. One of those was its ability to possess memories, which could then be accessed by a Time Keeper using a scarab beetle. It was like a living library of historical knowledge that dated all the way back to Ancient Egypt. As far as Horace could tell, the purpose of the Order was to protect and guard the secrets of the ancient stone. As he stared up at the white clouds in the afternoon sky, he wondered what other powers this sacred object might possess.
Now Shadow dove down, landing on a lower branch of the sycamore tree a few feet from Horace. Her coal-black eyes stared intensely at the horizon.
Horace pulled the beetle out of his pocket and flipped it over in his hand. The beetle shimmered a dull blue light; a collection of hieroglyphics covered the flat surface of its belly.
“Do you think there might be other Keepers out there besides just Herman and me?” he asked Shadow.
A small squirrel ran across the field toward the farmhouse, and Shadow dove from her perch, sending the tiny animal scurrying for cover. Shadow’s speed, her beauty, and her power always amazed Horace. There were few creatures that seemed to move through the air so gracefully but also with such power. It was no wonder that one of the most powerful Egyptian gods was a falconlike winged creature. A god who just so happened to also be Horace’s namesake, as well as one of the secret symbols he’d seen used by the Order to distinguish their members.
Thinking of Egypt sparked more questions in Horace’s mind. Was Tut okay? Was he king of Egypt now? And married? What had happened to Amarna, the city his father had built? Time moved more quickly on the other side of the portal, and it had been almost two weeks since he’d traveled there on his last adventure.
Shadow swooped upward and returned to her perch on the tree. Horace wondered if maybe he could risk a little peek and see how things were going.
“What do you think, Shadow? Should we check it out and see what’s been happening?”
The bird let out an even louder squawk, which Horace was unable to decipher as either a yes or a no.
His heart started to beat rapidly as he thought about going through the portal.
He twirled the beetle over in his hand and made up his mind. Despite Herman’s warnings, Horace was going to visit Ancient Egypt. If Herman wasn’t going to show up to answer his questions, Horace would just have to go looking for answers himself.
He gazed down at the beetle in his palm. At various times throughout his adventures the beetle had emitted a blue light whenever Horace was near the portal. But now it appeared lifeless and cold to the touch.
Horace guessed that he probably wasn’t close enough to the tree portal to engage the magic. It would soon come to life, he told himself. I just need to get closer.
Horace took a quick glance at the farmhouse to make sure no one was looking. He could see the silhouettes of his two sisters in the windowpanes of the second-floor office. Soon they’d be expecting him to return and help them finish packing his grandparents’ stuff.
He turned toward the tree and walked over to the widest part of the trunk, a spot where a small notch marked the keyhole to the portal. It’ll only take a moment. I’ll be back before anyone knows I’m gone.
As Horace approached, he couldn’t help but remember the first time he’d discovered the portal and the inescapable pull he’d felt from the beetle. It was so strong that the stone literally flew out of his hand to find its way to the bark. Now, though, there was no magnetic draw.
He passed under the canopy of the branches and realized that something was wrong. It wasn’t the distance from the tree anymore; he was just an arm’s length away. But the beetle emitted no light, and there was no sensation of it trying to pull away from his hand, not even a twinge on his skin.
Horace stepped closer. Then he felt as though his heart dropped to the ground, and his eyes widened in horror. He blinked, wondering if what he was seeing was real or his imagination. He rubbed the palm of his free hand against the surface of the trunk to confirm it.
There in the bark of the sycamore tree, where Horace had once placed the beetle to open the portal to Egypt, a blackened X had been carved.
Horace gasped, and Shadow let out a shriek.
It looked like someone had intentionally sliced out the keyhole with a knife or some other type of sharp instrument.
He stared again in disbelief, rubbing his fingers against the rough surface. Hot flashes spread up Horace’s back and down his arms. What was he going to do? The reality of what he was staring at began to sink in. The portal! It had been destroyed! This severed his connection to Egypt.
He looked down at the beetle. It was as lifeless as a stone from the gravel driveway. Someone had intentionally destroyed the keyhole. But who?
Horace started to breathe quickly. A panicky feeling spread under his skin and around his lungs like a snake suffocating its prey. Beads of sweat appeared on his brow. He bit down on his bottom lip. How was he going to reach Tut or Herman? What did this mean? Who would have done such a thing?