by Paul Crilley
They could still see through the bars of the cage. The floor of the pyramid was a frantic swarm of Hyperboreans, some of them jumping into small skiffs and speeding away, others forming into orderly lines while burly officers handed out weapons.
Their view of the floor was blocked every time the elevator drew level with a new floor. Octavia crouched down every time this happened, trying to keep her eyes on what was happening.
When they were about five floors from the ground the armed soldiers moved off to the left. Good. That meant the way would be clear for them once the elevator doors slid open.
They bumped to a stop on the ground floor. But instead of it opening directly into the pyramid, the elevator instead opened onto an enclosed corridor. Molock pulled the cage doors open and they stepped outside—
—to find the orderly lines of soldiers approaching rapidly from the left.
Everyone froze. Octavia thought it almost comical. A tableau of surprise that lasted for the briefest of seconds but seemed to stretch on forever.
The guards acted first. The front two dropped to their knees, allowing those behind them the space to fire. They raised their rifles to their shoulders just as Molock and her mother fired their own guns. Lightning burst out in a wild explosion, crawling across the walls, then arcing and grounding in the soldiers. Their muscles contracted, fingers spasming on triggers. Gunfire erupted, deafening in the confined space. Bullets slammed into the walls and roof, one of them skimming past Octavia's arm. She felt the wind of its passage and fired wildly as she spun around and retreated back into the elevator.
Tweed was already there. Octavia grabbed her mother, yanking her out of the passage. Molock joined them, slamming the cage shut and yanking the lever up again.
“Well,” said Molock with a nervous smile. “That was rather close. Um…any suggestions?”
Octavia waited till the elevator passed the second level, then pulled the brake. She yanked the cage open and ushered everyone out, then slammed the lever all the way up and closed the doors, letting the elevator resume its journey back to the top.
“Quick thinking,” said Tweed. The other four elevators started to rise, filled with soldiers hell-bent on catching up with them at the top.
They pressed themselves up against the wall and waited for them to pass, then used the ramp around the wall to reach the ground floor. Luckily, no one saw them. They hit the packed earth of the pyramid floor and hid behind a stack of wooden pallets.
“Right,” said Molock. “We're in. Now—and I realize we should have finalized this beforehand—but do we have a plan?”
Tweed put his hand up. “Actually, we did talk about this. And as I recall, we kept arguing.”
“Yes, well, you did,” said Octavia. “But we're not going to get into this now. It's not the time.”
“We kind of need to get into this now,” said Tweed. “It is the time. In fact, this is the exact time we need to get into it.”
Octavia lifted her hand to stop him and glanced around the edge of the palette. The pyramid was about two hundred feet wide. The opening to the tunnel was about a quarter that, and over to their left. They couldn't run the distance. They'd be spotted in a second. But they couldn't hang around here either. She looked up. The elevators had arrived up at the top. Once the soldiers realized they weren't to be found, they'd be back down here to search for them. They had to move now.
“There's no point just sitting here,” said Tweed. He slapped Molock on the shoulder. “Come on, old chap. You're the only one that fits in here. Off you go and fetch us a skiff. That one over there will do.” He pointed to a skiff about thirty feet away. Soldiers were loading heavy weaponry into the bed of the vehicle. Octavia thought she spotted some kind of grenade launcher.
“Right,” said Molock. “Yes. Good idea.”
Molock stood up and nervously wiped the dust off. “I'll get the skiff.”
“Chop chop,” said Tweed.
Molock frowned. “You…want me to chop someone up?”
“Figure of speech, old chap. It means hurry up.”
“Oh. Right.”
Molock moved out of cover, walking nervously toward the skiff. Octavia winced. If anyone took a second look at him, the game was up. He looked like he was a wooden toy.
He slowed down enough so that when he arrived at the skiff the soldiers had their backs to him, trying to maneuver more weaponry off a loader. Molock hopped inside the skiff, then quickly activated the vehicle and turned it around. By the time the soldiers realized he had taken it, he was halfway back to their position.
They sprinted from cover and ran toward him. Molock slewed the skiff around, presenting it side on and almost smacking right into Tweed in the process. They leaped aboard as shouts erupted behind them. The crack of gunfire echoed around the pyramid. They ducked down beneath the lip of the skiff as Molock turned it toward the tunnel.
Octavia peered over the edge. The soldiers were chasing them, firing as they came. But then a second, heavier grinding drowned out the gunfire. A beam of light fell down through the center of the pyramid and speared the floor. The beam grew wider, illuminating the pyramid with daylight.
The pyramid was opening up.
Starting at the very top, each level was sliding back like a child's puzzle, opening wider and wider. Octavia saw tiny figures peering down at them.
Octavia smacked Molock on the back. “Faster!”
Molock tried, but the skiff was so weighed down by the weaponry that it couldn't go any faster.
The tunnel was approaching. Brave (or stupid) Hyperboreans tried to block their path, but they ended up diving out of the way when it became clear Molock had no intentions of stopping.
Two small flying machines erupted over the edge of the pyramid. They plummeted downward, then slowed just before they hit the ground, bobbing in the air then surging toward them with a burst of speed.
They were smaller than the skiff they were using, built for speed more than anything else. And they were already catching up.
The skiff crested the lip of the tunnel, rising up then crashing heavily onto the downward slope. Their surroundings dimmed as they left the bright sunlight behind them.
Octavia peered ahead. The tunnel seemed to go on forever. Their pursuers would catch them in no time.
She turned to Tweed and saw him lifting one of the massive grenade launchers that the soldiers had loaded onto the skiff. There were two more lying at her feet.
Tweed was struggling to steady the long weapon on his shoulder. Octavia helped him, grabbing the end to stop it from tilting forward. The pursuing skiffs ramped over the lip of the tunnel and shot toward them in a burst of speed.
“Do it!” shouted Octavia.
Tweed closed one eye, sighting along the barrel, then he pulled the trigger. There was a woosh of sound. The launcher jerked violently in their hands, feeling suddenly lighter.
But nothing happened.
Her mother screamed. Octavia whirled around to see the rocket coursing away in front of the skiff. It crashed into the tunnel wall just as it curved around to the left.
The grenade exploded.
The tunnel wall tore apart. Huge pieces of rock burst outward, careening across their path. Molock veered wildly, sending the skiff left then right as he tried to dodge the falling rocks.
Octavia looked at the launcher in horror, then met Tweed's eyes. As one they both threw the heavy weapon overboard.
It hit the ground, then flipped up and tumbled end over end. One of the skiffs was close behind them, the driver trying to avoid the huge rocks that had fallen in their path.
He failed to spot the launcher.
It smashed into his chest, sending him flying over the side. The skiff veered wildly and smashed into the wall, shattering into pieces that tumbled and spun through the air.
Tweed looked at her in amazement, then broke into a shaky grin. Octavia grinned back.
But there was still one more skiff left. It dodged and weaved
around the fallen rocks, the lizard driver glaring at them with cold fury.
They left the falling rocks behind them. Octavia checked the weapons that remained. Two more launchers, plus some rifles. She decided to leave them where they were and instead pulled out her Tesla gun. She'd never fired a real rifle before and didn't want to start now.
Tweed pulled out his own gun and they fired at the pursuing skiff. Their first few volleys missed, but they succeeded in making the driver slow down and drop back slightly.
They lost sight of him as the tunnel turned sharply to the left. Octavia grabbed the seat to steady herself. She turned around to tell Molock to take the corners easy, but the words died on her tongue as Molock drove them into a huge space easily five times the size of the pyramid.
The area was filled with strange machinery—huge drills, gears, poles, even cogs for some truly massive gears. Vast machines were lined up around the walls, the floor covered in metal shavings and chunks of rocks.
And directly opposite them, a huge hole in the mountain face. A hundred feet long and the same again high.
The opening of the tunnel up to the surface.
Molock gunned the skiff forward, heading for the huge bank of elevators that Octavia now noticed had been built at the bottom of the tunnel.
Octavia heard a noise behind her. She whirled around and saw the pursuing skiff heading in their direction. A second Hyperborean was standing behind the huge circular barrel of a gun. He started furiously cranking a lever and the autocannon rotated, spitting bullets out at a terrifying rate.
Everyone hit the deck. Even Molock. Octavia heard the bullets smack into the side of their skiff. Then there was a bump, the sensation of rising upward, a moment of floating…
They slammed into the wall. The rear of the skiff lifted up then tipped over sideways, sending everyone sprawling out into the elevator. Octavia hit her head against the wall. She cried out in pain, white lights flashing across her vision. Sounds dimmed, everything slowed. She saw all the weapons tumbling into the elevator with them. Her mother was helping Molock into a sitting position. There was blood on his head. Octavia shook her head, trying to stay conscious.
She blinked heavily, looked around for Tweed. Where was he? She had to make sure he was okay.
She saw him, standing up behind the skiff. It was still on its side, shielding them from the bullets that smacked into its underside. Tweed winced at every impact. Blood trickling from a head wound. Why was he just standing there? He was going to get shot.
He looked at her and opened his mouth, shouting. She frowned. She had no idea what he was saying.
Then everything sped up again. The white light receded from her vision, the sounds came crashing back.
“What?” she shouted.
He took one hand away from the skiff, gesturing upward. That was when she realized he was holding the skiff in position where it had crashed, making sure the bullets didn't reach them.
Octavia looked wildly around. Her mother was trying to stanch the wound on Molock's head. She had her back against the levers that controlled the elevator. Octavia moved her aside and yanked the lever down. The elevator started to move. Slowly, agonizingly slowly.
The gunfire was still coming. It was deafening, a staccato roar that battered her senses, blocking everything else out. The skiff was being shredded. Octavia could see light punching in through holes in the bottom of the vehicle. As she watched, another hole opened up only inches from Tweed's head.
He must have seen it too, because he straightened up and gave it a gentle push.
It tumbled out of the elevator and dropped through the air. There was a heavy crash and the gunfire suddenly stopped.
Tweed and Octavia carefully peered over the edge. The skiff had landed on top of their attackers.
The sudden silence rang in her head.
Tweed turned to her. His eyes were shining with excitement and relief. “They don't look too healthy,” he said with a straight face. “Bet they're feeling a little…flat.”
“Tweed!” said Octavia, shocked. “A little good taste.”
“Sorry, sorry. But I bet they're feeling a bit depressed about the whole thing.”
“Quite.”
“They were very determined, weren't they? Took a lot to squash their spirit.”
Octavia giggled, then quickly put a hand over her mouth to stop it becoming hysterical. She was feeling shaky, glad to be alive, overwhelmed, and terrified. All at the same time.
But still, she couldn't resist one. “You could say they were…dying to catch us.”
Tweed snorted with laughter. They both turned away to find her mother and Molock staring at them with open mouths.
Octavia clamped her mouth shut. “I'm so sorry,” she mumbled. “I'm not laughing at them. Just…I…I can't help it.”
Her mother shook her head in disappointment. For some reason that sent her into giggles.
The elevator picked up speed, the walls skimming past in a blur. The four of them sat on the floor, utterly exhausted by the events that had brought them here.
Octavia sat back to back with Tweed, their heads resting against each other. She wasn't sure who had taken that position first, but it felt nice. To feel him so close to her.
It was difficult to judge how far they were traveling. There was no frame of reference. Just the blurred rock that flew past and the cold wind that whipped around them. The tunnel itself was huge, so wide even Solomon's airship could fit into it.
After about half an hour the light changed. Their surroundings brightened, almost imperceptibly at first, then more and more, a bright white light spilling down the tunnel toward them.
They stood up. Octavia suddenly realized that they had no idea what was waiting for them up there. They could very well be rising directly into Sekhem and Nehi's lair. She pulled her Tesla gun out, noting that the others were reluctantly doing the same. No one wanted to fight again, but they might have no choice.
The elevator lurched, then slowed its ascent. They were able to see the actual rocks of the walls now. They slowed even more, and then gradually rose above the lip of the elevator shaft and bumped to a stop.
There was no army waiting.
Instead, there was a cave about twenty meters deep and fifty wide, open to the outside world. A frigid wind brought the tang of snow and ice to Octavia's nose.
They stepped off the elevator and moved toward the exit. As they drew closer, Octavia could see snow-covered mountains in the distance, sharp against a lead-grey sky.
They stopped at the cave opening, looking out onto a freezing landscape. Octavia shivered and pulled her thick jacket tighter. Where were they? The Arctic? Somewhere far to the north, that was for sure. The mountains that surrounded them were craggy and inhospitable. Black, jagged rock was exposed by the biting wind that blew powdered snow from the peaks, sending it swirling into the sky.
“Bit nippy,” said Tweed, but his joke fell flat as they took in the hostile landscape around them.
There were two grey metal boxes against the wall. They paused to search through them, finding blankets, rucksacks, tins of food, flasks of water. Everything they would need to trek through the snow.
While the others packed everything into the rucksacks, Tweed hurried back to the elevator. He picked up the missile launcher, then hit the lever to send the elevator back down to ground level. He checked both sides of the launcher, hefted it right side up, pointed it down into the tunnel, and fired.
Octavia watched in astonishment as the missile erupted from the launcher and disappeared from sight. Tweed dropped the weapon and hurried back to join them.
“What?” he said. “You don't think they would follow us up here? Of course they would.”
As he finished they heard a muffled explosion far below their feet. The ground trembled, and after a few moments a thin cloud of dust drifted up the shaft.
“I suppose we had no choice,” said Molock.
“None,” said Tweed, pullin
g his rucksack onto his back.
Octavia did the same. “What do we do now?” she asked. Where were Sekhem and Nehi? Where was the Albion? How were they ever going to find them?
Molock stepped out of the cave and looked up into the sky. “I think we go that way,” he said pointing up to the left.
The others stepped out of the protection of the cave. The cold stung Octavia's cheeks and nose, stripped her throat raw. But she barely noticed it, because off to their left, moored to the top of one of the largest mountains around them, was the airship Albion.
It was still here. They weren't too late.
“Looks like we've got a bit of a trek ahead of us,” said Tweed. He glared at Octavia. “And you know how I feel about exercise.”
It was early morning. Too early. No one should have to rise at such a ungodly hour. It wasn't natural.
Tweed yawned and stared with a glazed expression at the horizon. The rising sun was just visible in the narrow gap between the grey clouds and the rocky ground. Pink and orange light seeped slowly across the sky, growing brighter with each passing minute. Tweed watched it hungrily, the only hint of color in this freezing wasteland.
He sighed when the clouds finally swallowed the sun, the color fading like a half-remembered dream. Only grey, white, and black remained.
It had been about fifteen hours since they'd left the cave, following a path that wound up around the mountain. They knew it was the way to go because of the deep furrows that had been worn into the ground. It seemed Sekhem and Nehi couldn't do whatever they were doing to the Albion down there. They had to move their supplies to where the Albion was moored above the peaks, safe from any winds that might smash it against the mountains.
Tweed and his companions had slept in a cave signposted by a pile of litter outside the narrow opening. It was obviously used as a resting station because there was even a pile of firewood just inside the entrance.
They had spent a good while arguing about whether to light the fire, but as the night got colder and colder the argument for (we'll die if we don't) won out over the argument against (we might be spotted).
