* * *
“Atticus is dead,” Cade announced.
The legionaries in Imhotep’s chamber who were hauling Cleopatra’s embalmed body through stopped in their tracks.
The men stared at Cade, shocked, and only now did Cade notice the blood that had stained his sword arm and chest.
“Why?” one of the legionaries asked simply, his single word translated by the Codex.
“He attacked me,” Cade replied back.
His sword was still drawn, with the pistol in the other hand, but there was no aggression from the legionaries.
Even so, Amber darted to Cade’s side, her own sword drawn.
“Shit,” was all she said.
The men looked at them dully, and Cade saw the exhaustion in their eyes. In that moment, he realized just how hard this must be for them. Men, traumatized by their time on the Gray realm, outnumbered, hunted, and bereft of hope for years.
And now, thrown into monstrous jungles, marching through the night, their destination unknown, with almost no understanding of what they were there for.
These men just wanted to survive. When they returned … Cade knew he had to tell them. Let them know they were not subject to the whims of gods but of creatures from another planet. That their fates were not foregone, that their lives were not already forfeit.
For now, they needed one thing. Hope.
Now the other legionaries arrived, and the knowledge of Atticus’s death rippled through them in a mess of whispered conversation.
“I have a way to get us out of this,” Cade said as every eye in the chamber turned toward him. “Follow me, as you did at the Triton fortress, and I promise we will survive this.”
The men looked resigned. There was no outrage. These men were broken, living moment to moment. None had the energy to challenge his leadership.
“What’s going on?” Scott asked, having just entered the tomb, oblivious to the latest turn of events. “We’ve got some treasure here.”
Cade stepped forward, and the legionaries parted to reveal Scott festooned with gold. It was rudimentary in design, a pile of torques, amulets, rings, and brooches. Boudicca, queen of the Iceni, had been buried well.
Scott clinked his way forward and gave a little twirl, breaking the tension of the cavern. He even elicited smiles as he curtsied to Amber.
Behind him, Quintus carried a large staff topped with a trumpet, a horn Cade knew to be a carynx. It was gold too, and again Cade marveled at the dedication of these leaders’ followers to leave them with so much wealth. That, and a healthy appreciation for the afterlife.
“Right,” Cade said, motioning to his men to follow. “Amber and Quintus, dump all of that in Genghis’s tomb and move on to Attila’s. Scott, you search Atahuallpa’s. I’ll do Alexander’s.”
“What’s going on, Cade?” Amber said as the others rushed off. “Why are we piling it there? We need to negotiate with Abaddon soon.”
Cade winced and turned on his heel. “He came to me already,” he said. “Before Atticus attacked. He’ll transport us all back, alive, in exchange for all the treasure here.”
Amber’s face fell. “That’s it?” she asked. “We did this for nothing?”
Cade paused. He knew her feelings about the bomb. Knew in another life, where he had never met Song, he might have negotiated for something different.
Amber stared at him, seeing his hesitation, her expression darkening.
“What did you do, Cade?” she asked, her voice a low whisper.
“I…”
A rumble of shifting rock from the stairs turned their heads. Voices called from beyond the rubble, and Cade could see the orange glow of torches. It looked like the slavers had found light.
“Hurry,” Cade said. “We’re almost out of time.”
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Cade ran into Alexander’s tomb, his three legionaries close behind, and took in the sight of the strange place in a few hurried glances.
This tomb had also been buried in Egypt. Alexandria to be exact, named for and founded by the very man whose grave he was about to rob.
Still, the room was distinctly different from what Cade had expected, for it was a mess of conflicting cultures. The floors were covered in mosaics, rich in color despite the dust that coated them. Here, a curly haired man riding a horse was depicted, spear raised in defiance. Stranger still were the men he charged at: bearded soldiers riding chariots, and behind them, elephants.
These were the Persians and Indians whom Alexander had conquered, and Cade took some small pride in his heritage, knowing that it was in India that Alexander’s rampage across the world had finally been halted.
As in Imhotep’s tomb, the walls here were decorated in two-dimensional figures, but here the figures had hawks for heads, and hieroglyphics surrounded them. Clearly, Alexander’s tomb had begun its life as an Egyptian temple.
In the room’s very center lay a pale, smooth marble coffin, complete with engravings of Greek lettering.
And behind it, a naked man, youthful, contorted in an almost erotic pose, stood in white stone. It was a statue of the great man himself.
There was little in the way of treasure here. Cade knew that Alexander’s tomb had been a place of worship for many years, visited by pilgrims and tourists alike. Anything of value would have been long gone.
Still, few would have had the audacity to open the coffin itself, and Cade motioned with his hands for his men to remove its top.
The coffin lid crashed to the ground, and Cade lunged forward to see inside.
To Cade’s surprise, there was not one but two bodies within. One was covered with time-eroded rags and seemed to stare back at him through hollow sockets.
The other, fresher body was adorned with clothes intact, and so fresh that the remains of a bushy white beard could still be seen, even if the head was a half-mummified mess of skin and bone.
“What the hell is this…,” Cade breathed.
Abaddon had left him a surprise. Or at least, for whoever stumbled across this place. A further reward for the seeker’s curiosity.
The man’s clothing was formal. It almost looked like a tuxedo, with an upturned collar, gloves, even a top hat.
“Codex,” Cade breathed. “Who is this?”
“Remnant is William Cantelo, a gun inventor who disappeared in 1880. He claimed to have invented the first machine gun, and went missing along with his prototype from his home in Southampton, England. Four years later, Hiram Maxim invented the Maxim gun, and made a fortune from the patent during the First World War. So similar were the two men in appearance, some believed he and William Cantelo were the same man.”
Cade stared at the body beneath him, and his eyes slowly drifted up to the shadows behind the coffin. There, at the feet of the statue, was a large black box.
“Jackpot,” Cade whispered.
Behind him, he heard a yell. Then another, and the clash of metal upon metal.
“Grab that,” Cade ordered, pointing at the box. He was already moving before the Codex began its translation, racing back to Imhotep’s chamber.
He took in the scene at a glance.
Legionaries surrounded a hole in the stairwell’s rubble, their shields shoving against a tide of metal-clad men. Mailed hands and shoulders shoved to get in, pushing through a gap hardly large enough for a man to fit. Gladiuses clattered against the steel armor, and Cade saw one snap at the base, its rusted blade spinning away as the desperate legionary hammered down with the hilted stump.
“Get back!” Cade yelled, shoving a legionary aside. A helmeted head pushed through the rubble, and in the slit at its front Cade saw raging eyes.
He raised the gun, pressed it close … and fired.
The shot rang out like a thunderclap, knocking the man back with its force and near jarring the gun from Cade’s hands. The body hung limp in the entrance, blocking it, while legionaries spun away at the noise, covering their ears with their hands.
Cade’s own eardrums ached from the sound, and he could hardly hear himself as he screamed at the slavers a single word, over and over.
“Tractastis!” he cried. “Tractastis!”
Negotiate.
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The body withdrew slowly, pulled back inch by inch. Behind the rubble, men grunted and cursed, clearly packed into the stairwell like sardines. Soon enough though, it was gone, and as Cade peered through, he saw that the slavers had retreated halfway up the stairwell.
Cade’s wrist ached where the recoil had almost fractured it, and he sheathed his blade, taking it in two hands. He felt sick as he saw the pool of blood at his feet, congealing in the dust.
Another life he’d taken.
“Hello?” Cade called. “Are you there?”
More cursing followed, then a voice called from the other side.
“You wish to surrender?” a man asked.
His voice was fuzzy in Cade’s ears, and he shook his head, trying to focus. In the small, echoey chamber, the sound of the gun had almost made his ears bleed. The Codex’s translation was not helping matters, for it blasted it out at a near-deafening volume.
“No surrender,” Cade called. “A trade.”
Silence. Then:
“If you wish to trade, then your gun has not the bullets to kill all of us,” the voice said.
“It does,” Cade allowed. “But I’d rather not waste them on your worthless lives.”
“We’ll see,” the voice called back. “We’ve faced men with guns before, and won. Soldiers from your Great War commanded high prices in the slave market. Not as much as you will though—even with your tongue ripped out.”
Cade grimaced and turned his head.
By now, all the legionaries had gathered, and Cade could see Amber hauling a sackful of what must have been treasure into Genghis’s chamber. Scott, on the other hand, was empty handed.
“So tell me of your trade,” the man called, impatient. “Treasure? Remnants?”
Cade bit his lip, considering his next words. His head was swimming, exhaustion catching up to him.
“Would you consider a remnant?” Cade asked. “I know Caesarion has quite a collection. He would pay a high price for the one I have in my possession.”
The man laughed. “We will take it from you after we’re done,” he said. “That and any treasures this tomb might contain. Fool child. There is nothing you could offer that we cannot have regardless.”
Cade smiled. The slaver had played right into his hands.
“Oh, but there is,” Cade said, speaking loudly for all to hear. “I have in my possession something Caesarion would give half his kingdom for. And let me tell you, if he hears you had the chance to get it and didn’t, it’s not just your tongue he would rip out.”
The slaver was not so quick to retort now, and his silence stretched out. Cade took the opportunity to turn, and saw Amber and Scott had come back.
“Pick that up,” Cade said, pointing at the black box the legionaries had left beside Alexander’s tomb. “Quickly.”
He waited for them to do so, then whispered, “Abaddon.”
There was no response, and Cade tried again.
“Abaddon, we’re ready. Take us to the keep.”
The Codex hovered closer, and Cade heard the little girl’s sardonic voice in his ear.
“Every. Last. Piece.”
Cade’s eyes widened. “We’ve missed something,” he gasped. “Quintus, hold the box, and do not take your hands off it. Amber, Scott, there’s something else here somewhere!”
They moved with speed, even as the slaver ventured a reply.
“What is it, then? And why can we not take it from you?”
Cade spoke with as much confidence as he could. “This remnant has been drying out for millennia. One spark and it’ll burn up. And don’t think I won’t do it if you attack us. It’s worthless to me, and worth everything to the emperor.”
The slaver muttered under his breath. Then:
“The lies of a desperate man. What chances are there that you would have such a thing in the very moment you need it most?”
“It’s the whole reason why we came here,” Cade said. “Treasure means nothing to us. We need weapons, food, clothing. We came here because we knew that Caesarion would give us anything for it.”
“More lies,” the slaver drawled. But Cade could sense the curiosity in his voice. And the doubt.
Cade did not reply. He was buying time. Every second he wasted was another that Amber and Scott had to find the missing trinket. Some coin that had rolled into a corner. A dull gem, fallen from its setting. Even the jewels on the coffins might count.
He could see Amber and Scott returning from Boudicca’s tomb, an elaborate sword belt in tow, though one without precious metal.
“Abaddon, take us as soon as you have what you need,” Cade hissed.
“What was that?” the slaver called out. “I lose patience. The beasts that call this place home will be returning soon. We’d rather not be here to watch them feast on you.”
Cade gritted his teeth, hearing the increasing rattle of metal as the men behind grew restless. He had hoped that he would not have to give them what they wanted. Especially since there was no guarantee they wouldn’t attack anyway.
“Do you know who Caesarion is?” Cade asked.
The rattle of metal slowed.
“Yes,” the slaver replied simply.
“Who is his father?” Cade asked.
“Julius Caesar.”
The reply came quickly, and Cade was glad of it.
“And … his mother?” Cade asked. “His Egyptian mother.”
There was a sharp intake of breath. “Cleopatra,” the slaver said, intoning each syllable slowly.
Cade allowed himself a smile.
“Damn right,” he said.
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The slaver was silent.
“We came for her body,” Cade pressed. “She’s buried here with Mark Antony. Her son—your emperor—loved her with all his heart. He may not care much for history, but he does care about his history. So tell me, what would he do if he found out you let us burn his long-lost mother’s body?”
Behind him, Cade could hear the frantic patter of feet and the frustrated cries of Amber and Scott as they roamed from room to room, searching frantically.
“Say I believe you,” the slaver called. “Say you do have it. What do you propose we do? And how do we prove it is Cleopatra to Caesarion?”
Cade had not thought that far ahead. The exchange was practically a hostage situation now.
“Jens, we need to hurry,” a low voice muttered in another language, a Viking language of some kind, but the Codex translated it in Cade’s ears regardless, and that gave Cade an idea.
“We have a machine from the gods. It can tell you anything about Earth. Caesarion has one just like it. He uses it to communicate with the gods, as we do.”
There was silence once more.
“Show us!” Jens called.
“Codex, scan Cleopatra’s body and then reveal yourself to the slavers and give your answer,” Cade instructed loudly.
There was a flash of blue and a rush of air as the Codex whipped past Cade’s head, and then a gasp as the Codex revealed itself.
“Remnant is Cleopatra, last queen of the Ptolemaic Dynasty in Egypt. She was embalmed and entombed with her lover, Mark Antony, in 30 BC.”
“It can’t lie,” Cade said as the slavers erupted into discussion. “Ask it to inspect any remnant. It’ll tell you exactly what it is.”
“It … Caesarion has one of these?” Jens asked.
“Yes,” Cade said. “And he’ll use it when he’s alone with the body. There’s all the proof you need.”
“Oracle, tell me what this object is,” Jens said.
Cade could not see what he had offered up, but the Codex soon gave him his answer.
“Remnant is the first-ever bowi
e knife, developed by famed knife fighter James Bowie in 1830. The design was later popularized for use by soldiers and hunters and still survives in the modern day. The knife was lost by James Bowie in the Battle of the Alamo in 1836 and was never seen again.”
Jens took a sharp breath at the Codex’s words.
“Give her body to me,” he ordered. “You have a deal.”
Cade hesitated. “Retreat your men up the stairs,” he said. “Keep a few with you down here. Then we’ll know you’re serious.”
Jens laughed aloud. “I could just bring them back down after. Or ambush you on your way out.”
“Do it,” Cade said. “Or I burn the body.”
Jens muttered under his breath, but barked out orders to his men.
“You five, with me. The rest of you, return to the entrance.”
Cade listened as the Codex translated, and the stomp of mailed boots receded. Still, Amber and Scott continued their search, shouting at each other in anger.
What could they have overlooked?
“Abaddon,” Cade whispered. “What’s left?”
The little girl’s voice giggled in his ear. “What, and miss all the fun? Not likely, my child.”
Cade felt a bead of sweat trickle down his back, despite the cool confines of the chamber.
“Hurry,” Jens snapped. “Pass her through.”
Cade racked his brains for a way to further delay, but nothing came to him. The slaver’s patience would be wearing thin by now, and there was the chance that Jens would keep his end of the bargain.
“Pass through the body,” Cade instructed.
Legionaries rushed to the corpse’s side, passing forward the cloth-wrapped figure. It was almost childlike in its size, and Cade caught a glimpse of mailed hands cupping the ancient queen’s head, before her body withdrew though the hole and disappeared into the darkness.
Cade waited, the gun’s grip slippery in his hand. Jens would summon his men back if he intended to betray Cade. That, or attempt to breach the hole with the element of surprise after pretending to leave.
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