Chariot Charge Read online

  First published 2010 in Pan by Pan Macmillan Australia Pty Limited

  1 Market Street, Sydney

  Text copyright © Charlie Carter 2010

  Illustration copyright © Russell Jeffery 2010

  The moral rights of the creators have been asserted

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted by any person or entity (including Google, Amazon or similar organisations), in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, scanning or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher.

  National Library of Australia

  Cataloguing-in-Publication data:

  Carter, Charlie.

  Chariot charge / Charlie Carter.

  9780330425889 (pbk.)

  Carter, Charlie Battle boy ; 8.

  For children.

  A823.4

  Designed by Russell Jeffery, Emigraph

  Printed in Australia by McPherson’s Printing Group

  Papers used by Pan Macmillan Australia Pty Ltd are natural, recyclable products made from wood grown in sustainable forests. The manufacturing processes conform to the environmental regulations of the country of origin.

  These electronic editions published in 2010 by Pan Macmillan Australia Pty Ltd

  1 Market Street, Sydney 2000

  The moral right of the author has been asserted.

  All rights reserved. This publication (or any part of it) may not be reproduced or transmitted, copied, stored, distributed or otherwise made available by any person or entity (including Google, Amazon or similar organisations), in any form (electronic, digital, optical, mechanical) or by any means (photocopying, recording, scanning or otherwise) without prior written permission from the publisher.

  Battle Boy 8: Chariot Charge

  Charlie Carter and Russell Jeffery

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  ‘Can’t I be a knight, or a king?’ said Napoleon.

  He stepped into the Tome Tower, grumbling to Professor Perdu, and walked over to the Battle Books.

  Book 141 was rattling and rumbling, and whistling like a kettle on the boil.

  ‘It’s the Battle of Hastings,’ he continued. ‘1066 and all that! William the Conqueror thumps Harold of Wessex. Total mega-bash. And I have to be a shepherd watching from the hillside.’

  Napoleon tugged at the thick woollen, scratchy tunic he had to wear.

  ‘Your mission in this Battle Book is to observe the battle only,’ said Professor Perdu.

  ‘But I’m an action boy. I’m ready for ANYTHING!’

  There was a deafening explosion.

  Napoleon was thrown right across the room.

  He slammed into the wall –

  KERSPLAT!

  – and slid down it like a slugged slug.

  Oooo! Ouch!

  He lay dazed on the floor, covered in soot and debris. A siren was blaring, red lights flashing.

  ‘What … what happened, Skin?’ he said, sitting up slowly.

  ‘Level … 7… Combustion Event,’ Skin said in a broken voice

  ‘Felt like a 10-plus to me.’ Napoleon checked himself all over.

  ‘You have minor bruising only,’ said Skin.

  ‘Thanks to you. You’re the best skin ever, Skin.’

  Napoleon had lost count of how many times his computerised, skin-coloured body armour had saved him from danger.

  ‘Stay where you are, BB005,’ Professor Perdu’s voice came over the intercom. ‘An emergency team is on its way to assess the situation.’

  Her worried face was at the window of the Tome Tower.

  Napoleon looked around him. The Tome Tower was in chaos. Control panels were blinking, circuits were exposed, wires were fizzing and sparking. The floor was covered in rubble, and Battle Books were scattered everywhere.

  He saw a strange glow in the rubble, and looked closer.

  ‘I repeat, BB005, stay where you are!’

  There was a massive hole in the floor. Napoleon crawled to the edge – dodging wires and sparks – and peered over. The hole was easily two metres deep.

  ‘Hey! There’s a Battle Book down there,’ he cried. ‘And it’s humming.’

  ‘Don’t go near it!’ the professor shouted.

  The Book was cracked, and a fine green mist was seeping from it. The hum was growing louder.

  ‘I can’t quite read its number,’ said Napoleon, leaning further over the hole. ‘Hang on. It’s No. 2 —’

  There was a tearing sound and the crack in the book suddenly opened wide.

  Te hum became a ROAR.

  ‘WHOA!’ shouted Napoleon as the ground shuddered and shook. ‘I’m going to fall …’

  And he toppled into the hole.

  ‘HELP!’

  The wind was screaming in Napoleon’s ears, and he had to shield his eyes.

  He could feel the skin on his face stretching with speed.

  This was high velocity time travel.

  ‘Why are we going so super fast, Skin? And where are we going?’ he shouted.

  ‘Impossible to say. The GC-Locator was damaged in the explosion. Co-ordinates do not compute. But I estimate that we have travelled more than two thousand years already.’

  ‘It feels like we’re zooming through history. We’ll be back with the cavemen soon.’

  ‘Limited visual data coming into view now.’

  Napoleon could just make out snowcapped mountains far below. But he soon whizzed passed them.

  ‘Man-made structures visible in Sector 5F,’ said Skin.

  A grid system flashed across Napoleon’s eyes. He could see a vast city with massive stone walls.

  ‘Zeroing in for micro-inspection,’ said Skin, and then paused to analyse the data. ‘Ancient architecture. Possible period: 1400–1100 BC. Possible area: somewhere between Egypt and the Black Sea.’

  A moment later, a large body of water appeared in the distance.

  ‘That is the Mediterranean Sea,’ said Skin. ‘Geographic area now identified as Syria. Historical period still uncertain.’

  ‘Professor?’ said Napoleon. ‘Can you hear me? I don’t think we’re going to the Battle of Hastings.’

  ‘Transmission down,’ said Skin. ‘Attempting activation of manual backup.’

  Suddenly they broke through the mist. A rocky desert spread out below.

  ‘Are we stopping?’ said Napoleon.

  ‘Affirmative,’ Skin replied. ‘Descending at maximum rate.’

  The ground was looming up at Napoleon.

  ‘We usually slow down a bit to stop, Skin,’ said Napoleon anxiously.

  ‘Impossible’, said Skin. ‘Boot Boosters not responding, and HoverVest operating only in secondary mode.’

  ‘And I don’t usually land on rocks either,’ Napoleon shouted, staring at the ground below.

  ‘The rocks are hard but round,’ said Skin. ‘Recommend rolling over the top of them, if possible.’

  ‘Great advice, Skin,’ said Napoleon as he rocketed towards the ground.

  At the very last moment the Boot Boosters gave a spurt and the HoverVest found a few extra gyroscopic revs. This broke Napoleon’s impact a little. He skimmed across the top of the rocks, but then made s
erious contact.

  ‘Youch!

  Yikes!

  Yipes!’

  He bumped and thumped over the rocks for at least twenty metres.

  When he finally stopped, Napoleon was hurting all over. He stood up slowly and looked around.

  Desert.

  Hot, dry rocky desert as far as he could see.

  The sun burned through his skin and his eyes ached with the glare.

  ‘Why have we landed here, Skin? There’s nothing in sight.’

  ‘The GC-Locator is not 100 percent functional,’ said Skin.

  ‘Is anything working?’

  ‘The explosion caused multiple system failures. But circuits will self-repair in time. Boot Boosters and HoverVest have almost repaired themselves, and software programs are rebooting.’

  ‘Good,’ said Napoleon. ‘Let’s find some shade. It’s hot!’

  He started heading for a big boulder he had spied about 500 metres away.

  He trudged slowly across the fat stony ground.

  ‘Any chance of a camel, Skin?’ he asked. ‘Or a paraglider?’

  ‘Negative, BB,’ said Skin. ‘Feet are the only available means of transport that present.’

  At about 400 metres from the boulder, Napoleon saw a dust cloud rising in the distance. A desert storm?

  At 300 metres, he heard a rumble. Thunder?

  At 200 metres, he felt the ground tremble. An earthquake? A stampede of angry camels?

  At 100 metres, Skin gave a warning beep. ‘Unidentified danger approaches.’

  The dust cloud now filled the sky, blocking out the sun, while the ground shook fiercely under Napoleons feet.

  He stared ahead, and what he saw made his heart miss a beat.

  Are they what I think they are?’ he said.

  Affirmative. Danger identified as chariots. Possibly Egyptian, but more likely . . .’

  But Napoleon wasn’t listening. He was running as fast as he could to the boulder.

  Napoleon threw himself behind the big rock, gasping for breath.

  An army of chariots was thundering across the desert. A deafening roar of men and horses.

  Skin’s nano-computers whirred, recording and assessing the data.

  ‘Updating analysis. The chariots are not Egyptian. They are Hittite – of the three-man type – powerful war machines, but heavy and hard to manoeuvre.’

  ‘There must be thousands of them,’ said Napoleon.

  ‘Correct. Three thousand is an approximate estimate.’

  ‘Where are they going?’

  ‘To a battle, of course.’

  ‘But which battle?’

  ‘Possibilities have been narrowed to four at this stage, BB005. Recommend the following course of action to determine exactly which battle: follow them.’

  ‘But how? I haven’t even got a donkey.’

  ‘Carts carrying food and weapon supplies will follow soon. They are larger and slower. Be ready to board one.’

  Skin was right. Behind the mass of charging chariots, a smaller group of carts trundled at a less hurried pace.

  ‘HoverVest activated,’ said Skin as the last cart passed.

  Napoleon lifted from the ground.

  ‘Boot Boosters operative in

  4 . . .

  3 . . .

  2 . . .’

  He shot off , and in no time at all had caught up to the last cart. The driver was cracking his whip and urging his horses through the dust.

  Napoleon flew in behind the cart and edged closer until he was hovering above the back half.

  It was full of swords, spears, helmets, shields and arrows. The plan was to float down, land quietly and hide among the weapons.

  But then Skin gave a warning beep. ‘HoverVest malfunctioning. Unable to . . .’

  The HoverVest fizzed and spluttered. Napoleon plunged into the cart. The weapons clanged and clattered.

  The driver turned around, but Napoleon burrowed quickly under some shields.

  ‘PHEW! That was close,’ he whispered to Skin. ‘He looks mean, that driver.’

  Skin was busy assessing the weapons.

  ‘These are definitely Hittite. Notice the curve of the swords, the cone shape of the helmets, the shape of the arrow heads, and the patterns engraved on the shields. Excellent data, BB005.’

  Data, frittata, thought Napoleon as the cart crashed along and he was bashed and bumped, jabbed and stabbed by all the arrows, spears, swords and daggers.

  After what seemed like forever, the cart slowed down and stopped.

  Napoleon crawled from under the shields and peeped about.

  They were outside an ancient city, its massive walls rising from the desert. The

  other carts were there, too, along with thousands of chariots.

  ‘City identified,’ said Skin. ‘It is Kadesh, the southern capitol of the Hittite Empire. There should be a river nearby.’

  Napoleon could see it shimmering in the sun.

  ‘That is the Orontes River,’ Skin continued. ‘This is where two great Empires meet – Hittite and Egyptian. And they are about to fight for who controls this area.’

  ‘So you know what Battle Book we’re in?’ said Napoleon.

  ‘Of course. This is Book 214. It contains the Battle of Kadesh in 1274 BC, the greatest chariot clash in history – between the Hittites and Egyptians. More than six thousand chariots in mortal combat.’

  ‘That’s a crowd of chariots,’ said Napoleon. ‘And the Hittites look ready for battle.’

  They were lined up in battle formation outside the walls of Kadesh. A tall warrior in a bright red chariot was riding back and forth in front of them.

  ‘That is King Muwatalli,’ said Skin, ‘a fearless fighter.’ The king’s bronze armour and helmet shone like gold in the sun.

  ‘Where are the Egyptians?’

  ‘Their arrival is imminent, BB,’ said Skin. ‘They approach from the south.’

  Napoleon saw a cloud of dust rising. Then, he felt the ground rumble.

  ‘The Egyptians are led by one of the greatest pharaohs of all time,’ Skin said. ‘Ramses II. He has sworn to teach the Hittites a lesson and destroy the city of Kadesh.’

  Suddenly Napoleon’s Battle Watch flashed and beeped, and Professor Perdu’s voice crackled with static.

  ‘BB005. Are you okay?’

  ‘I’m fine, Prof. We’re in Book 214.’

  ‘I know. Which is both good news and bad news.’

  ‘How bad is bad?’ said Napoleon. ‘Is it “not too bad”, or “couldn’t be more bad” bad?’

  ‘Somewhere in between,’ said the professor. ‘Book 214 is seriously damaged. We can’t send an Exit Beam until we repair the cracks, and that’s going to take some time.’

  ‘So the good news must be really really good,’ said Napoleon, ‘to make me feel better about the chance of being STUCK HERE FOREVER!’

  ‘Well, if you have to be stuck in a Battle Book,’ said the professor, ‘you couldn’t be in a better one.’

  ‘That’s it?’ said Napoleon. ‘That’s my good news?’

  ‘There are two great mysteries of history in this book,’ said the professor. ‘Now you have a chance to solve both of them.’

  ‘Two mysteries,’ said Napoleon. ‘So it’s a two-for-one Battle Book.’

  ‘Exactly, and both mysteries have intrigued historians through the ages because they are so —’

  But Napoleon didn’t hear anymore.

  A rough hand had clamped down on his shoulder.

  ‘You good-for-nothing scoundrel!’

  A Hittite soldier glared at Napoleon.

  ‘Stealing the king’s weapons?’ He hauled Napoleon to his feet. ‘You’ll hang for this.’

  Napoleon twisted and squirmed, and managed to wriggle free.

  He leaped over the edge of the cart and ran for his life.

  ‘Thief!’ the soldier shouted, chasing after Napoleon. ‘Stop him!’

  ‘Are you still receiving me, BB005?’ asked P
rofessor Perdu, her voice even more crackly than before. ‘You sound distracted.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Napoleon yelled as he ran. ‘I’m a bit caught up right now . . .’

  ‘But I know you want to hear about the two mysteries,’ continued the professor.

  Napoleon glanced over his shoulder. Several soldiers were after him now.

  ‘The first is about the battle itself: Who won it?’ said the professor.

  ‘But I thought we knew that already?’ puffed Napoleon. The soldiers were firing arrows and throwing spears. ‘Isn’t it written down in history?’

  ‘Yes. Twice, in fact. The Hittites recorded the battle on clay tablets, and the

  Egyptians put it on papyrus. Trouble is, both sides claim victory.’

  ‘My money’s on the Hittites,’ said Napoleon as a spear shot past his ear. ‘They seem pretty bloodthirsty to me. But let me guess: you want me to watch the battle and find out who really won.’

  ‘Precisely,’ said the professor. ‘That shouldn’t be too hard. It’s probably one of your easiest missions yet.’

  A swarm of arrows buzzed over Napoleon’s head.

  ‘Skin,’ said Napoleon. ‘Any time you want to DO SOMETHING.’

  ‘HoverVest and Boot Boosters still malfunctioning, BB. But the auto-repair system is working on the problem.’

  ‘Can’t you hurry it up?’ Napoleon said.

  ‘What was that, BB?’ asked the professor, her voice full of static.

  ‘Nothing, Prof,’ said Napoleon. ‘What about the other mystery?’

  ‘Prince Terrepas died at the Battle of Kadesh and was buried somewhere in the city. But his tomb has never been found.’ & ‘And we want to find it because — ?’

  ‘Because it’s full of treasure - there’s a mountain of Hittite gold.’

  ‘Gold! I like the sound of that.’

  ‘According to legend, there’s a full-size chariot made of pure gold, and — ’

  ‘Yeah. They like their chariots. There’s one after me right now.’

  He could see the snarling faces of the Hittite soldiers as they came closer and closer.