The Obsidians

“Which begs the question,” Hazel said. “Where are we?”

Everyone began to glance around. They were surrounded by a series of buildings that appeared to be in various states of disrepair. They’d clearly once been extremely ornate and extravagant churches, with stone steps, tall white columns, and domed roofs, but something had ravished them. Time? War? It looked possible even that the building materials had been scavenged. Overall, they all looked close to collapse.

The streets were also filthy. Wild livestock roamed around, dropping dung behind them, and several foxes darted in and out of the churches.

Oliver shuddered. “Somewhere in Europe. But where and when precisely, I’ve not idea. Let’s look for clues.”

They began to pace the streets. There were no cars, but plenty of horse manure, which helped them narrow down the era to prior the invention of the automobile. There were very few people scattered around the place, mainly beggars, which made the place feel a bit like a ghost town.

“I feel like the population must have shrunk recently,” Hazel said. “There seem to be far too few people for all these buildings.”

“So we’re perhaps in some kind of old city that’s lost its people for some reason,” Oliver suggested. “That would explain why the buildings look so dilapidated.”

“Look there!” Hazel said, pointing at a rectangular area surrounded by large, important-looking buildings. “That looks like a Roman forum. Only it’s filled with cattle and markets.” Her eyes widened with excitement. “I think we might be in Rome. Right at the cusp of the Renaissance.”

“The what?” Walter asked.

“The moment in Europe that marks the transition from the Middle Ages to modernity,” she replied with enthusiasm. “Where art and architecture and philosophy and trade flourished. You know, the age of discovery?”

Walter let out a mocking laugh. “You’re such a nerd.”

But Hazel was on a roll. She completely ignored Walter, looking increasingly excited. “That’s why all the buildings are falling down. The economy collapsed in the fourteenth century because of war and plague, as well as famine from a small ice age. The population shrank by somewhere between twenty-five and fifty percent.”

“So it must be early fifteen hundreds,” Oliver replied.

“I think so,” Hazel said with a nod.

Just then, a pair of women walked past them chatting. Oliver didn’t understand the language. But David was listening intently, as though perhaps he did.

Oliver raised his eyebrows at David expectantly. “Well? Did you understand them?”

David nodded slowly. “Yes. I can speak several languages. Perhaps that’s another reason Professor Amethyst sent me.”

“And?” Oliver asked. “Are we right? Are we in Italy?”

David nodded. “We’re in Italy.”

Oliver couldn’t help but exclaim, “Italy!”

Hazel, too, seemed completely enthralled by where they’d ended up. “Rome! During the Renaissance!”

Walter whirled and craned his head up to take in the sight of the tall, crumbling churches. “I’m glad you two are so happy about where we ended up. I’m just glad we’re not dead.”

“So, the portal took us to sixteenth-century Italy,” Hazel said, still looking awed despite her attempt to get back to business. “Why would the cure for Esther be here?”

At the mention of Esther’s name, Oliver felt his stomach twist. There was no time to be entranced by the surroundings, to marvel at having landed in sixteenth-century Italy, because every second that passed was a second wasted.

“We need to work out where to go next,” he said hurriedly.

Oliver pulled out his compass. But to his surprise, while the main golden dial was pointing at a vial—which surely represented medicine—all the other smaller dials were pointing at the same symbol. It was giving him no other clues.

Oliver’s shoulders slumped. He felt defeated.

“It-it’s not working,” he stammered, helplessly.

Now what? They were back in Renaissance Rome with no idea where to go or what to do next! Every moment they stood there dithering was another moment Esther came toward death.

“Uhhh… Oliver…” David said in a warning voice.

Oliver peeled his eyes away from the useless compass. To his surprise, there was a young boy running toward them. He looked desperately concerned.

Oliver felt dread rise through him. Who was the boy and why was he homing in on them like that, with a look of pure anxiety?

He ran up to them and began to speak in urgent, rapid Italian. Oliver looked helplessly to Hazel and Walter, who looked just as clueless as he must have.

David took the lead. He stepped forward and nodded along as the boy spoke.

When the tanned-skinned boy finally finished, David looked over his shoulder at Oliver.

“He’s a seer,” he said.

Oliver’s eyebrows pinged up his forehead. “A seer? How did he find us?”

“He says that when we activated the portal it sent a beacon alarm to his school. He says we must follow him. It’s too dangerous here.”

“But why?” Hazel asked. “What’s dangerous about standing innocently in the streets?”

“Beyond the roaming livestock and beggars, you mean,” Walter quipped.

David translated her question to the boy. He shook his head, seemingly growing more and more exasperated. He spoke in a quick, exaggerated manner, throwing his arms around theatrically.

“Well?” Oliver asked, growing increasingly anxious with every second that passed.

“The beacon,” David gasped, relaying the message back to the others. He locked eyes with Oliver, his expression now deeply troubled. “It doesn’t just send an alarm to the school. The alarm can be picked up by all seers.”

Hazel gasped. “You mean…”

“Rogues,” David finished for her. “We’ve sent out a signal to them that we’re here.”

Oliver felt the warmth drain from his face. Finally he understood why the Italian seer boy was so frantic. They’d practically sent out a signal for any rogue seer to come along and mess up history!

“Quick,” Oliver told his friends. “Let’s get out of here.”

Hazel grabbed his arm. “Are you sure we can trust this boy?”

“He risked a lot just to come here and get us,” Walter said.

But Oliver wasn’t so sure.