Chapter 37The Mysterious Dagger

We’d left the bright, clear forest way behind. We were totally stunned, kind of numb, you know? We just kept running, like we had to. It felt like a weird dream - a total trip.

Instinctively, we headed toward the Central Sea. I can’t even remember what was going through my head, what crazy stuff I might have said or done. But I was super focused, pulled back to reality.

I knew we were on new ground, but I kept noticing these rock formations that seriously reminded me of the ones near Port Gretchen.

It just confirmed what the compass was telling us - that we were totally unexpectedly, like, randomly coming back to the north of this huge Central Sea. It was so similar to where we started, I could barely believe it. Streams and waterfalls were everywhere, spilling over the rocks.

I swear I could almost see our dependable, boring Hans and that amazing grotto where I came back to life after that crazy fall.

But as we kept moving, the way the cliffs looked, a stream popping up, the shape of a rock - everything threw me into this confusing state.

Eventually, I told my uncle how messed up I was feeling. He admitted he was feeling the same way. He just couldn't figure anything out in this crazy, but still the same, view.

"There’d be no way," I said, "that we landed exactly where we started. But the storm must’ve pushed us north. So, if we follow the coast, we’ll find Port Gretchen again, right?"

"Seriously?" my uncle said. "It’s pointless to keep exploring. We should just head back to the raft." He looked at Harry. " Are you sure you’re not messing up, Harry?"

It's kinda hard to say, Harry replied. All these rocks look the same. There's no real difference between them. He paused. But I have this feeling, like I recognize the place where Hans built the raft. He added, looking closely at a creek that seemed really familiar.

"We’re close to that little port, I think. If this isn't it..." He examined the creek carefully.

"Harry, my boy - if we were here, we’d see our own footprints, some sign we’d been here. I don’t see anything like that."

"But I do," Harry exclaimed, his voice suddenly excited.

He rushed forward and grabbed something glinting in the sand.

"What is it?" the astonished Professor asked.

"This," Harry said, holding it up.

He handed his uncle a rusty dagger, shaped in a weird way.

"What’s with you bringing that useless thing?"

his uncle asked. " It was just weighing you down."

"Me bring it?" Harry replied, surprised.

"I’ve never seen it before! Are you sure it’s not from your stuff?"

"Not that I recall," the Professor said, looking confused.

"I don’t remember ever owning it."

"This is wild," Harry said, thinking about what just happened.

"Chill, it’s simple," the Professor said. " Icelanders still use old weapons like this. It probably belonged to Hans, and he dropped it without realizing it."

Harry shook his head. That dagger had never been in the hands of the calm and quiet Hans. He knew him and his routines too well.

"So, what else could it be - unless it’s the weapon of some ancient warrior," I went on, "some real person, around when that awesome shepherd we just got away from? But nah - mystery after mystery - this isn’t a weapon from way back when, not even from the bronze age."

"It’s made of really good steel - "

Before I could finish, my uncle cut me off, stopping me from going off on a whole bunch of theories, and spoke in his coldest, most serious voice.

"Chill out, my boy, and try to think straight. This dagger we just stumbled on is a real deal, the kind guys wore back in the sixteenth century. It was used to finish off enemies who wouldn't give up. It’s definitely Spanish-made."

"It doesn’t belong to you, or me, or that hunter, or any of the living creatures still hanging out deep inside the earth."

"What are you saying, Uncle?" I asked, totally lost in thought.

"Take a close look," he said; "these jagged edges weren’t made by fighting and blood. The blade is covered in this layer of iron rust, and it’s not new - not a day old, not a year old, not even a century old. It's way older - "

The Professor started getting super excited, like always, and letting his imagination run wild. I almost said something. He stopped me.

"Harry," he shouted, "we’re on the edge of a huge find! This dagger you found, just sitting there on the sand for over a hundred, two hundred, even three hundred years, has been marked by someone trying to carve something into these rocks."

"But this knife didn’t just get here by itself," I blurted out, "it couldn’t have twisted itself here. So, someone must have been here before us on this crazy sea's shore." "Yeah, a person."

"But seriously, who would be crazy enough to do something like that?"

"Someone who carved their name with this dagger - someone trying to mark the way to the inside of the earth again. Let's check things out, kid. You have no idea how huge your awesome find is."

We were totally hooked, so we walked along the rock wall, looking at every tiny crack that could maybe turn into a gully or shaft.

Finally, we got to a spot where the beach was super narrow. The sea was practically licking the rocks, which were really tall and steep here. There was barely a path, like, two yards wide at most. Then, under a giant, jutting rock, we found the entrance to a dark and creepy tunnel.

There, on a granite tablet - smoothed out by rubbing it with another stone - we could see two mysterious, really worn letters: the initials of the brave and wild traveler who's been here before us.