The Steel Ring

by R. A. Jones

  “What we have learned is that there are two more gems needed to complete the talisman, making five in all.”

  “There’s something else I think we can infer,” said the Clock. “Whoever is behind this plot has great resources, great knowledge and probably great mystical ability.”

  “And he’s utterly ruthless in using all three,” Iron Skull said in his harsh voice.

  “Then our first order of business is clear,” Aman declared firmly. “We have to stop him before he – ”

  “Or she,” the Witch interjected.

  “Or she,” Aman repeated, smiling tightly, “can gain possession of those remaining two gems.” He shifted his gaze to the Eye.

  “Do you know where they are?”

  “As I told you,” the Eye replied, “we are still in the process of deciphering the poet’s journal. And there are still other mystic tomes that must be consulted.

  “It took me weeks to discover the significance of the three gems taken from our murdered and robbed comrades. I still don’t know precisely what the gems can do when used in conjunction. With the aid of the Clock and the Librarian, I’ll delve deeper until all is known to me.

  “Meanwhile, I believe I have discovered the approximate location of a fourth gem. If I’m correct, it is secreted somewhere within certain ruins located in Arizona.”

  “Arizona’s a long way from here,” Aman said. “Do you have a means of getting us there quickly?”

  “I do,” the Eye replied. “Or rather, friend Clock here does. The corridor directly behind you leads to both an underground cove and pier, and a runway. A very special plane is waiting for you there, fueled and ready to go.

  “It is perhaps not quite as special as the plane you encountered in your homeland, Aman,” the Clock said, grimacing slightly, “but it should be adequate to our needs. Zona Henderson has been trained to pilot it and is waiting aboard as we speak.”

  “Then we need to leave right now,” Aman asserted, “and get that gem. Meanwhile,” he pointed at the Eye, “you need to hit those books of yours and learn what else we need to know.”

  The Eye acknowledged this with a nod of the head. Aman swung his head back and forth, scanning the faces of the Witch, Man of War, Ferret, Iron Skull and Fantom.

  “Are you all with me?” he asked.

  Without dissent, they all nodded.

  “Hell, we were just waitin’ for you and the two fossils there to stop beatin’ yer gums, High Hat,” Ferret snorted. “Let’s ankle!”

  “Let’s,” Aman said, grinning with the excitement of a young boy. He turned and briskly set out for the corridor that would take them to their waiting aeroplane, the others right behind him.

  “Did you see that?” the Eye asked the Clock, once their six operatives were out of earshot.

  “I think the prophecy just may be coming true. The way John took charge … I tell you, he’s a natural born leader!”

  “He is, isn’t he?” the Clock replied, making no effort to hide the pride in his voice.

  “Indeed.” The Eye looked at him from the corner of his eyes, saw an expression tinged with the smallest hint of regret.

  “And do you intend ever to tell him that you are his father?”

  “No,” the Clock replied, in a firm tone that said the matter was not open to debate. “At this late date, it’s better he doesn’t know.”

  “Ah. But better for whom?”

  CHAPTER XXXII

  August 25, 1939

  Stepping from their aeroplane, the six members of the Steel Ring were greeted by the wind and the sand it cradled in its arms. Its soft, wailing cry could have been the voices of the ghosts of those dead and gone for a thousand years.

  The Eye had guided them to this precise spot, a remote plateau somewhere between Prescott and the Verde River. When the wind broke off for a moment and the sand drifted back to earth, they could clearly see the object of their search rising up before them.

  The long abandoned settlement was carved into the very face of the plateau, rising up for five terraced levels.

  “A Pueblo village,” Ferret muttered.

  “Far older than that, I think,” the Fantom replied. “The builders of this edifice had vanished from memory even before the Hopis and Zunis came to this land.”

  “How does an entire people just disappear?” Man of War asked.

  “Usually, they’re made to disappear,” the Witch said.

  She had noticed that, because of the effect she had on men, most of her comrades (except Ferret, bless him) were trying to maintain a healthy distance from her. Not wishing to crowd Ferret, she gravitated toward Iron Skull, assuming – as did they all – that he was some sort of mechanical man: a robot and hence immune to her charms.

  “So now what?” Ferret asked. “That thing’s the size of a small skyscraper. Where do we look for this artifact?”

  “I suspect our new friend here can tell us that,” Aman said, turning toward the Fantom.

  “You’re right, Aman,” Fantom said. “I can sense the presence of an object that seems to match the aura of the missing artifacts. I also sense danger.”

  “Well, geez,” Ferret growled. “Like ya needed ta be Mandrake the Magician ta figure that one out!”

  “Fan out,” Aman ordered. “Approach cautiously. We’ll search every level if we need to, until we find the artifact.”

  “I just hope there really is sumthin’ here to find,” Ferret groused.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, c’mon. Surely I ain’t the only one of us who thinks that Eye fella is just a little off his nut! We may not find anything here but sand and sunburns.”

  “If you feel that way,” Iron Skull asked, “why did you even come along?”

  “What the heck, Tin Man,” Ferret replied. “I guess I’m just a sucker for a sob story.”

  Man of War chuckled softly – only to find the sound dying in his throat as the ground beneath his feet suddenly erupted upward as if he had stepped on a mine.

  It was no explosion that rocked him off his feet and set him flying through the air, but rather the force of a large object bursting free from below the ground.

  “Stand fast!” Aman yelled.

  His eyes narrowed as the thick shower of dirt thrown up by the eruption now settled back to earth. When the dusty curtain descended, what stood revealed was a giant scorpion, as large in size as an Asian elephant.

  The creature was saddled like a horse, and astride it sat a frightening caricature of a man, his flesh gray and wrinkled as if belonging to a corpse that had been naturally mummified by the desert heat and dryness.

  “Well, Ferret,” Man of War said, nonchalantly rising and brushing himself off, “I think we found something.”

  Before Ferret could reply, two more geysers of rock and soil shot up and a pair of monstrous scorpions joined the first, skittering about until they stood between the heroes and the pueblos.

  “Orders, Aman?” the Fantom asked.

  “Take them down,” he replied tersely. “Any way you have to.”

  As if they had rehearsed a routine together, Ferret and the Witch leaped toward the nearest scorpion. Ferret cartwheeled to one side, distracting the scorpion and leading it to lunge at him with a pincered claw.

  This allowed the Witch to rush in close. Grabbing the beast’s other front claw, she directed searing energy through both hands. As if struck by a grenade, the claw shattered.

  Thrown off balance, the scorpion listed to one side, its head swiveling in the same direction to see the cause of its sudden pain. Given this opening, the Ferret crouched and sprang, his leap carrying him to the monster’s back.

  The mummified warrior astride the beast swung a stone ax at Ferret’s skull. The hero ducked beneath the swing and lunged forward. His fingers sank into the desiccated flesh of the mummy’s throat.

  With a single, savage twist, Ferret snapped the head off the mummy. He disdainfully tossed the head away to his left, while the now truly
lifeless mummy’s body slumped and fell to his right.

  Bereft of its rider’s guidance, the wounded scorpion pivoted around in confusion. It reared back slightly on its hind legs, leaving its underbelly exposed.

  The Witch seized the opportunity, placing the palms of both hands against the beast’s thorax. Twin bursts of energy shot upward, ripping through the monster’s innards with fatal force.

  The Witch scampered from beneath the beast as it wobbled, then toppled headfirst toward the earth. Atop it, Ferret rode the beast downward, yelling like a rodeo bronc buster.

  As the scorpion plowed into the ground, Ferret leaped forward, rolling on contact with the ground and somersaulting to his feet.

  At the urging of its mummified master, a second scorpion charged toward Fantom and Man of War. Standing to one side, Iron Skull raised his left arm, pointing it toward the scorpion. At a mental command, a small section of steely skin on his lower arm popped open. A second such command launched a small missile from the aperture.

  It flew straight and true, striking the scorpion between its second and third leg. Upon impact, it exploded with the force of a hand grenade. Mortally wounded, the beast collapsed beneath its own weight.

  As it did, the mummified warrior astride it kicked free of his saddle and plummeted earthward. Legs pumping, he hit the ground running, racing straight toward Man of War.

  Emitting a dry clacking sound that was as close to a war cry as his wizened lungs could manage, battle-ax raised overhead in both hands, the mummy charged.

  Man of War planted his feet firmly, raising his hands to block the forthcoming blow. He gripped the mummy’s wrists, stopping the downward plunge of the ax. To his surprise, there was great strength in the mummy’s bony arms.

  Toe-to-toe they stood, both warriors shaking from the exertion. Man of War was so close to the mummy’s face that he could stare into its bulging eyes; the stink of death about it was nearly overpowering.

  Then the mummy made a choking sound, his emaciated body convulsing slightly. Man of War glance down – and saw a black-gloved hand protruding from the mummy’s chest.

  He released his grip on the mummy’s arms while hopping back. The semblance of life that lit the ancient warrior’s eyes now faded. He fell forward lifelessly, and behind him Man of War could now see Fantom standing, gazing down coldly at his deadly handiwork.

  The final scorpion, directed by the clacking commands of its rider, bore down on Aman. One giant pincer drew back and then thrust forward. It rammed into Aman’s chest with the power of a large caliber bullet – to equal effect. The tip of the claw shattered like delicate porcelain.

  The monster issued a squeal of pain, pulling back and up. As it did, Aman hurried beneath it, then flew straight up. Arms extended forward, his fists slammed into the creature’s belly, lifting it nearly off the ground.

  As the scorpion pitched violently to one side then the other, his rider was thrown clear of the saddle. Aman continued to push upward, until the scorpion at last pitched over onto its back.

  Landing atop it, Aman drew back one fist, then pile-drived it through the beast’s carapace. It quivered violently in its death throes before falling still.

  The mummified warrior who had been thrown from the scorpion’s back had landed face down on the ground. Whatever force animated him compelled him to rise and continue the struggle. He never made it back to his feet.

  Ferret leaped a good ten yards through the air, coming down on the mummy’s back with both feet. Ancient bone cracked like kindling and the mummy flopped back down, now devoid of even its grotesque semblance of life.

  “Yeah,” Ferret said grimly. “I’d say we’re in the right place.”

  The heroes soon had cause to question his assertion, however, as they vainly searched one level after another for evidence of the ancient artifact. All were beginning to have their doubts by the time they clambered up to the topmost level of the pueblo.

  “Y’know,” Ferret said, once again being the first to put those doubts into words, “we’ve just been accepting an awful lot on face value here, gang.”

  “What do you mean, Cal?” the Witch asked.

  “Just this, sweetheart; except for you, until today, I never laid eyes on any o’ these jokers but the Clock – and that was under hinky circumstances.”

  “So you’re saying you don’t trust us?” Aman asked.

  “Why should I, High Hat? And why should any of you trust me? Most important, why should we trust the Eye?”

  “I trust him,” the Fantom declared unequivocally.

  “Oh, well, that makes all the difference in the world!” Ferret exclaimed sarcastically. “We should trust the guy with three eyes ‘cause the guy who lives in a hole in the ground says so!”

  “What reason would the Eye have for deceiving us?” Man of War asked.

  “Here’s an idea,” Ferret said. “I never learned how to play chess, but I sure know what a pawn is. How do we know we aren’t out here on the dark side of nowhere just so the Eye didn’t have to fetch this hunk of jewelry himself? Meaning, he also didn’t have ta fight those giant bugs!”

  “No,” Aman declared flatly. “Everything the Eye told us was the truth.”

  “How can you be so sure?” Ferret challenged. “How can we be sure the Eye doesn’t mean to use this gizmo ta take over the world for himself?”

  “I can’t explain it logically, Ferret, can’t defend it. But I’m as sure of it as I am of my own name. He told the truth, and he deserves our trust.”

  “And what about us, stranger? Does your women’s intuition tell you that you can trust all of us, too?”

  “Yes, it does,” Aman replied calmly, refusing to rise to Ferret’s baiting.

  “With my life, if need be.”

  “I agree,” said the Fantom.

  “I never doubted it,” Iron Skull said solemnly.

  “Count me in,” Man of War chimed in cheerfully.

  “What about you, darlin’?” Ferret asked, turning his gaze toward the Witch.

  “I know a lot about men, Cal. Too much, maybe. But yes, I think the Eye was telling us the truth as he believed it.” She smiled tentatively.

  “And I believe you’re all good men, too.”

  Ferret silently swung his gaze back and forth from one comrade to another, then threw his hands up in defeat.

  “Fine. Then let’s go find this magic marble!”

  The air was hot and thick with motes of dust as they entered the central dwelling on the top level of the pueblo. The chamber appeared to be as bare as all the others they had examined.

  “Nothing here,” Aman said, disappointment heavy in his voice. “Let’s move on.”

  “Wait,” Iron Skull said.

  His mechanically enhanced eyes had noted something the others had missed. This chamber was slightly shallower than were the others they had searched, as if it did not extend as deeply into the side of the rocky plateau.

  A soft hum issued from the metal skull now encasing his brain, and his eyes glowed with infrared intensity.

  “There’s another room here,” he declared emotionlessly. “Behind the back wall.”

  “Let’s see what they were trying to hide,” Aman said, striding to the rear of the chamber.

  He didn’t bother to search for any sort of hidden latch or lever. Instead, he merely reared back with his right fist and directed a blow straight at the wall. Like hot steel through butter, his fist and half his arm burst through the wall and into the dark, empty space beyond it.

  Iron Skull stepped up beside Aman as he withdrew his arm from the hole in the wall. Nodding silently at each other, each man grabbed an edge of the opening and began to rip out great hunks of stone. Within a minute they had created an opening larger than the doorway leading into the main chamber.

  Iron Skull made a move to enter the inner chamber, but Aman stopped him with a hand on his arm.

  “Don’t forget the welcome we got outside,” he reminded his mechanized c
omrade. “Use those special eyes of yours to scan for booby traps or any other kind of surprise.”

  “Of course.” Iron Skull turned his head slowly from side to side, bathing the chamber in pale light.

  “Everything seems to be all right,” he declared.

  Now, though, he stepped aside to afford Aman the opportunity to enter first. The rest of the team followed close behind.

  In the muted glow of Iron Skull’s eye beams, they could see the inner chamber was nearly as bare as the outer. The sole exception was a chiseled stone pedestal rising up from the floor, near the back wall. Atop the pedestal rested a sculpted bust.

  Aman stepped close to the bust, which presented the visage of a man no doubt now dead for centuries. A feathered headdress seemed to indicate the subject of the bust had been a leader amongst his people. His features were fine and spoke of a noble character.

  Resting around the bust’s neck and atop its shoulders was a wide necklace shaped with ovals of thinly beaten silver. In the center of the necklace was the image of some sort of bird, also made of silver, with its wings outspread. Gripped in the bird’s claws was a sparkling turquoise gem.

  Reaching out and taking the strands of the necklace in both hands, Aman lifted it up and over the head of the bust. He stood motionless then, save for his head, which swiveled from side to side expectantly. If the removal of the necklace was meant to set off another trap, though, the triggering mechanism no longer worked.

  Breathing a sigh of relief, Aman clutched the necklace in his left fist and turned away from the bust. He smiled at the sight of his comrades: their body language showed they had all been anticipating the worst as well.

  “We got what we came for,” he said. “Now let’s get out of here.”

  They parted ranks to let him pass, then fell into step behind him. As they walked through the outer doorway and back into the light of day, Aman lifted his right hand over his eyes to shade them from the glare of the sun’s rays.

  That’s when a spray of large caliber machine gun bullets slammed into his upper body.