by Paul Crilley
“So you're telling me that Temple is a part of this Hermetic Order of Osiris? That he tortured Stackpole?”
Chase grinned. His mouth was filled with blood. “No. You still don't understand. That was me. I had to find out where the map was. Had to stop word of it getting out. Had to lock everything down.”
Tweed wasn't sure he had heard correctly. “So you tortured an innocent man?”
“For the greater good. If people found out about the lizards, there would be chaos. Panic. It would shift every political boundary in the world.”
Tweed sat back on his haunches. “You're insane.”
“No. I do what I do to keep the status quo.”
Tweed glanced up at Octavia. She had been listening to the whole thing. Was it possible? It would explain a lot of things. For instance, why the cult showed up at Stackpole's home. If Temple was a spy, he would have told Sekhem and Nehi about Stackpole and his map. They would have wanted to shut him up, especially if they had their own plans. Stackpole was just someone who was making too much noise at the wrong time.
Tweed frowned. What had Temple said before he left? It could be members of the Hermetic Order come to back Chase up. But no one had mentioned the cult to him. Not Tweed, not Chase. So the only way he could know about them was if…
Tweed straightened up and sprinted out of the chamber, heading back along the passage to the entrance. A bright light was spilling into the tunnel from the outside. Tweed skidded out of the crevice into the valley, then pulled up short. He shielded his eyes and stared upward in shock.
It was the Albion. The airship was hovering about thirty feet above the valley walls. It filled the sky, a massive behemoth, looking like a beached whale that listed slightly to the side.
What was it doing here?
Even stranger. Ornithopters were launching themselves in panicked flights from the top of the flight deck. The ornithopters went in all directions, some of them spiraling to the ground, others turning unevenly and heading back toward Cairo.
Ropes unfurled from the railings of the upper deck. As Tweed stood watching in amazement, members of the crew slid and climbed down to the valley floor, their faces panicked and terrified. Some of them didn't make it. Their hands slipped and they plummeted to their deaths on the hard rocks of the ravine floor.
Then Tweed saw Temple. He stood in the middle of the valley waving his arms in the air, ignoring everything around him. Tweed looked up and thought he could just make out Nehi and Sekhem peering over the side of the flight deck. There was a loud crackle in the air, and then Tweed heard Nehi's voice echoing through the night.
“Do it.”
The speaker system aboard the airship, thought Tweed.
But do what?
A light flared as Temple struck a Lucifer match. The orange flame illuminated cruel and eager features. Tweed had never seen that look on Temple before. He had always seemed to genial. So calm.
Temple bent over and touched the match to something on the ground. There was a spark and a flare of phosphorous light. Then the spit and crackle of flame moved rapidly in Tweed's direction.
His horrified gaze searched the ground. There. Right against the stone walls. A fuse.
The flame was already upon him. Tweed tried to stamp it out, but the flame erupted on the other side of his shoe and disappeared into the cave.
Tweed ran back to the entrance. “Get down!” he screamed as loud as he could. “Bomb!”
A few seconds later there was a loud detonation, a terrific whumping noise that he felt first in his chest, then in his head. A second after that the shock wave hit him, blasting him off his feet and sending him flying into the wall.
Thick, choking dust billowed out of the cave. Tweed coughed and waved it away, trying to see inside.
“Octavia?” he shouted urgently. “Octavia!”
He waited, fear rising high in his chest. Then he heard a slight coughing sound.
“Here,” she croaked.
Tweed sighed with relief. “How you doing?”
“We're…fine! I think. Just…behind a few rocks…Wait…” Her voice trailed away, then came back more urgent than ever. “Something's coming! Tweed, something's coming! Hide!”
Tweed frowned. Something was coming? Had he heard that correctly? How could something be coming?
He was almost too busy puzzling this through to remember she had told him to hide. He darted around the side of the rock that hid the crevice from view, just in time to avoid being run over by a rush of bodies. They bounded out of the cave on all fours, scrabbling over the rock, bounding across the valley floor. Tweed peered through the dust and was astounded to see they were lizard people—Hyperboreans. They looked like their true selves, though, running on all fours toward the airship.
When they arrived beneath the dirigible they launched themselves into the air, scrambling quickly up the ropes and over the side.
That was when Tweed finally realized their plan. That was why Sekhem and Nehi were on the Albion, why this site was so important. Sekhem and his sister were stealing the airship. Tweed had no idea why, but that was what they had done. They had ejected all the crew who remained on board and were replacing them with their own. They must have been waiting on the other side of the cave walls, waiting for Temple to detonate explosives to free them.
Why did they want the Albion though? It had to be something to do with Tesla's plans. They wouldn't just steal the Albion on a whim. This was carefully planned. There was a reason.
But what?
Tweed stared up at the airship in frustration. What were they going to do? Crash it into London? No, nothing so simple. Sekhem wanted a more powerful message than that. He wanted revenge. As he said, an eye for an eye.
But…
Tweed stared speculatively at the underside of the airship. At the empty ropes now dangling from the railings. They couldn't build a super weapon if they didn't have the plans, could they?
He glanced to his right. The dust clouds thrown up by the explosion drifted across the valley, obscuring Temple from sight.
He grinned into the night, spat on his hands, then sprinted from cover, leaping into the air and grabbing one of the ropes.
He started off well, and if good intentions were muscles, Tweed would have been inside the airship by now. Unfortunately, they weren't, and Tweed soon slowed in his ascent. His arms started to ache, his breath came in ragged gasps.
“I…really…have to…get fit,” he wheezed, pausing in his ascent to catch his breath. He looked down. The dust cloud was dissipating. Temple was still waiting down there—Tweed could just see his figure, dark and shadowy through the thin cloud.
“You'll get yours,” Tweed muttered. He felt betrayed by the revelation that it was Temple, not Chase, who was the bad guy. He'd been so sure. When Molock had said there was a spy in the government, and then they'd seen Chase at the hotel, he'd been convinced he was the spy. Well, you would, wouldn't you? It wasn't Tweed's fault.
He shook himself and started climbing again. He looked up. The underside of the ship was about fifteen feet away. Nearly there.
He kept going and finally reached the railing. He pulled himself up and threw his arms over the edge. He'd picked a rope toward the middle of the airship, so that he could hopefully sneak up without Sekhem or Nehi noticing.
He levered himself over and collapsed as quietly as he could onto the wooden deck. His whole upper body was in pain, and when he tried to push himself up he found his arms were shaking violently. He hoped he didn't have to fight anyone right now. That would be embarrassing. He'd have to just whirl his torso back and forth and hope his flailing arms hit somewhere vital.
Tweed peered around. The Hyperboreans were milling around the upper deck, inspecting the remaining ornithopters, staring up at the huge gas bags that kept the airship afloat. One of them was deep in conversation with Sekhem and Nehi over what looked like a map.
Tweed climbed to his feet and dodged around crates that were lashed to
the deck with thick wire. He moved quickly between them, keeping out of the bright moonlight.
He made it to the doors and hurried down the steps into the greeting area. The lights had been dimmed. They cast a weak orange glow over the dark wood of the tables and bar. Tweed slipped into the room beyond, pausing to listen.
Silence.
It was eerie. The ship was designed to be full of life and sound, people milling around, staff and waiters bustling to and fro. It wasn't meant to be empty. It felt like the ship's soul had gone missing.
Tweed realized he was just standing in the middle of the room like a statue. He shook himself and hurried through the door into the corridor beyond, heading for the wide staircase in the center of the airship.
He made his way down the steps and along the passage that led to Sekhem and Nehi's rooms. He tried the door. It was locked. Typical. He tried Nehi's but it was also locked tight.
Tweed glanced over his shoulder, but he didn't think there was anyone around, so he backed up against the opposite wall and then lunged forward, shoulder first.
He hit the wood and collapsed to the floor, groaning in pain and clutching his aching arm. He'll give the Albion makers one thing. They certainly built a solid door.
He stood up and tried using his feet this time. He finally got the door open on the fifth attempt, the lock splintering so that he was able to shove it the rest of the way open. He stepped inside and wedged the door shut.
He had to move fast. He pulled open the door to the adjoining room. This was where Sekhem had told him about his family, about what was happening to his people.
Tweed looked around for the wooden box, the one that held the plans.
It was on the desk.
Tweed grinned and swept it up. It was heavier than it looked. He tried to open it but it was locked. He spotted a leather satchel with some clothes in it, emptied the clothes out, then stuck the box inside.
He grinned, feeling very proud of himself. He'd done it. He had the plans.
The door leading to Sekhem's room creaked. Then there was a shout of anger. Tweed looked frantically around then dropped to the floor, shuffling under the bed just as someone burst into the room. He saw black boots hurry toward the desk, then spin around again.
“They're gone!”
“Teska-dul!”
Tweed wasn't sure what that meant, but he had a feeling it was a rather naughty word.
“I was here only twenty minutes ago,” said Nehi. “They might still be on board.”
You're not wrong there, thought Tweed nervously.
“Alert everyone. I want the ship searched.”
The feet ran from the room. Tweed thought about his next move. He couldn't exactly wait here. They'd take off soon, and if they were searching the ship he'd be found eventually. No, his best bet was to get off the Albion, take care of Temple, then hide with the others until the airship disappeared. Sekhem and Nehi couldn't hang around here indefinitely. They'd stolen the Albion, after all. They would want to get over the open sea as soon as possible.
Tweed slid out from under the bed and crept out into the hallway. He paused and listened. He could hear distant shouting, and the sound of running feet.
How was he going to get out of here? He slung the satchel with the box over his shoulder and moved quickly along the corridor. He reached the end and leaned up against the wall. He peered around the corner. All clear.
He was about to step out from cover when something made him pause, a little tingle of instinct. He crouched down behind a large plant pot and waited.
A second later he heard a scrabbling sound. Then a lizard-man appeared, crawling slowly along the roof.
Tweed pushed himself back against the wall as the lizard crawled past. It paused and looked down the corridor Tweed was hiding in, sniffed the air, then carried on along its course.
Tweed waited for about a minute, then emerged from hiding. He hurried along the corridor, but then had to duck into a room as another Hyperborean came scrabbling along the wall.
This was hopeless. He was never going to get past them.
He peered both ways along the passage.
And his eyes fell on the dumbwaiter at the far end. It was used to ferry food up from the kitchens.
Perfect.
He ran along the carpet and yanked open the doors. A tight fit, but he'd manage it. He pulled himself up, then turned his shoulder and wedged himself into the enclosed space. A rope attached to a pulley disappeared up into the darkness. Tweed leaned out and pushed the button for the top deck. The dumbwaiter shuddered, then reluctantly moved upward, straining with his weight.
The ride felt endless. And it wasn't silent either. He thought the whole airship must hear the sounds of the motor that was winching him up to safety.
He finally juddered to a stop. Tweed slowly slid the doors open. Darkness greeted him. He stared out, hoping his eyes would adjust, but there was no light anywhere. Was it a trap? Were they waiting for him to step out, then they'd all leap on him?
Only one way to find out.
He clumsily extricated himself from the space and straightened up.
Nobody attacked him, which was always nice.
He tried to orient himself, but still didn't know which corridor he was in. He put his hand against the wall, using it to guide him in what he hoped was the right direction.
After a couple of minutes he saw a dim orange glow up ahead. He quickened his pace and arrived at the bottom of the stairs that led up to the greeting room.
Tweed broke into a grin. Nearly there.
He climbed the steps. Nothing had changed in the greeting room. He crossed the floor and hovered anxiously at the foot of the stairs leading to the outside deck.
The sound of approaching feet came from behind him. Tweed took a gulp of air, and scurried up the final set of stairs, emerging into the humid night air. Tweed moved quickly to the railing. He put his hand on the rope and leaned over. He felt his stomach lurch. God, it looked really high from up here.
“Don't move,” said a voice behind him.
Tweed glanced over his shoulder to see Nehi pointing a gun at him. He decided he had a split second to do something unexpected, something to catch her off guard.
So he threw himself over the railing.
The wind pummeled his face. The satchel with the plans slapped painfully against the back of his head. He reached out and grabbed the rope. Pain flared as it slid across his palms. He tightened his grip and pulled it toward him, clamping it beneath his armpit. He lurched, slid some more, then slowed down. Problem was, he didn't want to slow down too much. He loosened his grip again, trying to descend as fast as he could, hand over hand. He looked up. Nehi was on the next rope along, descending gracefully and quickly. She was about twenty feet above him, but she was catching up fast. He looked down. The ground was still about twenty feet below him. He tried to go faster, wincing every time the rope burned the skin off his palms.
He couldn't see anyone waiting below. Where was Temple? He didn't want to land only to be confronted by a gun against his head.
No time to worry about that. When he was about ten feet from the ground he let go. A brief fall, then a sudden impact. He bent his knees and rolled in the dust, pushing himself to his feet and sprinting for the cave where Octavia and Molock were waiting. It was the only place he could go, somewhere they could defend.
He looked over his shoulder just before he ducked into the crevice. Nehi was sprinting toward him. Not only that, but some of the Hyperboreans were swarming from the airship, heading back down to back her up.
Tweed swore and put his head down, sprinting along the passage and into the huge room beyond. He skidded up short and almost collided with Octavia and Molock. They were moving toward him, Molock holding an old bronze sword against Temple's back.
“Where have you been?” snapped Octavia. “Never mind. I don't want to know. Back up. Quick.”
“No can do. I've got Nehi and some lizard-men on my tail
.”
“Why? What did you do?”
Tweed patted the satchel. “I only got Tesla's plans back.”
Octavia's eyes widened.
“Can we talk about this later?” said Molock. “That explosion weakened the structure of the cave. The roof's going to collapse any moment now.”
As if to underline his point, a huge section of rock dropped down and smashed into one of the sarcophagi. Tweed flinched, waving away the dust.
“We can't go out that way. They'll kill us.”
“Then where?”
Tweed could hear Nehi and the Hyperboreans approaching from behind. He grabbed Temple and shoved him hard, sending him stumbling back toward the entrance. Hopefully he would confuse Nehi for a few extra seconds. The dust would make it hard for her to see who it really was.
He turned the others around, pushing them back into the room. The Hyperboreans had to come from somewhere, hadn't they?
They stumbled through the choking dust, tripping over pottery and rocks. There was a huge rumbling sound, then a terrific grinding and crashing behind them. The whole place was coming down!
“Run!” he shouted.
They ran faster. Rocks and boulders tumbled down the walls and rolled across their path. Thick, choking dust billowed everywhere. It was hard to see anything. He could hardly breathe. He reached out and grabbed hold of Octavia's shirt, unwilling to let her out of his sight. She reached back and grabbed hold of his wrist, digging her fingers in deep.
They kept going, deeper into the darkness while the room caved in behind them. Stones fell on Tweed's head, earth trickled into his eyes. He had no idea where they were going. All he knew was the feel of Octavia's hand around his wrist, the sense that she was still close to him. They ran because they had to. Because stopping would mean instant death.
He felt a cool breeze against his cheek. It gave them renewed energy, drawing them closer. They were ahead of the dust now, in a tunnel filled with broken rocks and shards of stone. This must be the point of the explosion.
