Secrets of the Dragon Tomb (28 page)

The sand was soft beneath my feet. Every stride took twice the normal effort. I barely seemed to be moving. Sweat stung my eyes.

Another starblade whirred past. It twitched the edge of Freddie's coat as he helped Olivia into the opening. He scarcely flinched.

A hand grabbed my shirt. I wrenched free, but my pursuer stumbled into me, knocking me down. I gasped, and sand filled my mouth as I was driven into the ground.

I spat and rolled onto my back, shaking sand from my eyes. There were legs all around me, hands reaching down. I threw myself aside, colliding with legs. Men cursed. One of them aimed a kick at me. I grabbed his foot and wrenched. He tumbled back, bringing another man down with him, but I was surrounded. Weapons lowered, knife blades sharp in the sunlight.

Then Freddie was there, knocking one man down with his fist and parrying a knife thrust with the sword. I scrambled up, shouldering another man aside. Someone grabbed my arm, and Freddie thrust with his sword. The man let go and jumped back.

“Get them!” Sir Titus screamed, his voice hoarse.

We ran. Freddie reached the dragon tomb a step before me. He dived in and I leaped after him. I hit the floor with a jolt that knocked the air from my lungs. I could scarcely see in the dark. My parents and sisters were pale silhouettes in the black. I could just make out a tunnel, not much more than head high. Putty grabbed my arm and hauled me in.

Someone leaped in behind us. A knife glittered. Then a rock came whistling out of the darkness and caught the man full on the chin. Olivia crouched down and scooped up another rock.

“Back this way,” Putty said, pulling on my arm.

We retreated, eyes on the ragged square of sunlight. Heads appeared for a moment, then quickly withdrew, but no one else followed us in.

The tunnel ended in a smooth set of stairs. Papa led us down into the dark. I held my breath. I had no idea what was down here. The tombs in
Thrilling Martian Tales
always had traps.

We'd only descended four steps when light blossomed around us, growing like sunrise in the desert and racing away from us into the chamber beyond. I forced myself not to flinch.

At first we could see only shapes and the vast depth of the chamber. Then, as the light grew stronger, something emerged from the dark. First I saw its eyes, then the head and the great jaws and the long, sinuous neck. A dragon crouched in the center of the chamber, its eyes fixed upon us. Jane shrieked.

“It's dead,” I said. “It's preserved like the one in the museum.” Its strange, resinous coating glinted.

The light continued to grow, faster now. It spread across the walls and ceiling, tracing a luminous pattern like a million bright veins. Above the dragon, a cluster of globes awoke, as bright as the sun outside. Squinting, I saw dozens of strange machines around the walls of the chamber. Lying between the dragon's feet was a sarcophagus, holding the body of whichever emperor was buried here.

“Oh,” Putty exclaimed softly. “Look, Papa. They have photon emission globes that still work after all this time. How can that be?”

Papa frowned. “There must be some means of adjusting the reflectivity of the internal surfaces, in response to some impulse. As we entered the room … But that would mean the reflectivity must have been absolutely perfect for all these centuries.”

“And the veins of light on the walls…”

“Remarkable,” Papa said. “Tiny mirrors, perhaps, like threads. I must see them closer.”

“No,” Freddie said, pushing in front of them. He was holding a cluster of starblades. He must have grabbed them from Sir Titus's men. “Get to the back of the chamber. I'll cover the entrance.” Statues of dragons and men lined the stairs. Freddie positioned himself behind one.

“For how long?” I asked.

Freddie met my eyes. “For as long as I can.”

He wouldn't be able to stop them forever. Unless we found another way out or some way of defending ourselves, it would be over. I hurried my family across the chamber, around the body of the dragon. Beneath the cloudy resin, the dragon's bright scales still glittered in the chamber's light. Around us, ancient mechanisms lay dormant. Maybe one of them was a weapon. I squinted at them, but I had no idea what they were.

“Come out of there!” Sir Titus's voice echoed from the entrance. “Come out and you'll be spared. If I have to send my men in, there will be no mercy for any of you.”

“That horrible man!” Mama said. “To think that any of you could ever have believed that I had feelings for him. I always said he was no good, even when we were children!”

“Then send in your men,” Freddie shouted. “But the first three men through that doorway will die. Which three will it be, Sir Titus? Perhaps you should ask for volunteers.” He repeated the same in native Martian, loud enough to be heard by everyone outside.

“Perhaps you should lead your men yourself?” Freddie shouted. “You've waited ten years for your dragon tomb. Come and get it! Or are you scared to face me again?”

For a moment, there was silence. Then Sir Titus snarled back, “I fear nothing, Mr. Winchester, least of all you. Prepare yourself!”

Something roared outside. It sounded like a great monster clawing at rock. I wondered for a second if the dragon had come to life. Then I realized: It was one of the excavators.

The light globes above us shook. The ground trembled. Freddie took a step back, then another. Stone shattered and metal screeched. Great pistons thumped. With a crunch, rock gave way. The tunnel collapsed, puffing a cloud of dust and sand into the chamber. The excavator ground its way inward. One of the statues on the stairs toppled. Then the excavator emerged. Great blades hammered down, smashing rocks aside and hurling the broken fragments behind it.

Stone ruptured under the machine. A thunderous crack shook the chamber. Shards of rock exploded. Freddie ducked, but too late. A piece of rock caught him on the side of the head. He fell, his body slumping onto the foot of the stairs.

The excavator shouldered its way into the chamber. Its nose hovered for a moment above the stairs, then its tracks found purchase and it lurched forward, shedding rock and sand.

Olivia pulled free of Putty and raced across the chamber, ducking beneath the dragon.

“Come back!” I shouted, but she wasn't listening.

As the excavator crashed down, Olivia reached Freddie and pulled him back. Dust engulfed the pair of them. Mama screamed. I held Putty tight to stop her chasing after our sister.

I saw Sir Titus in the cab of the machine, safe behind thick glass. His face was twisted into a bloodstained sneer. A moment later, Olivia emerged from the dust, dragging the unconscious Freddie behind her. They were matted in red dust, and even from here, I could see the trail of blood on Freddie's forehead.

The blades of Sir Titus's machine crunched through the wall beside the stairs. Where they cut the traceries of light, brightness flared briefly. The veins of light dimmed and faded across that whole wall.

“He's destroying it,” Putty wailed.

The excavator lurched down the wide steps, scattering the statues, and blundered into a delicate-looking mechanism made of hundreds of connected brass rods and balls. The mechanism crumpled like paper. Beside me, Papa staggered to his feet, reaching out his hands imploringly.

I didn't care if Sir Titus destroyed everything in the tomb. If it hadn't been for this tomb, none of this would have happened.

But if Sir Titus got the gigantic, steam-powered excavator fully into the chamber, there would be nowhere we could hide. His men would pour in behind him. They would kill us. Freddie was unconscious. There was no one else to stop Sir Titus.

“Stay here!” I yelled above the crashing noise.

I cut to the left, skirting the chamber, hoping the chaos of dust, sand, steam, and smoke would hide me. Strange contraptions of brass loomed over me: twisting pipes, dials, tiny mirrors, spindles, fine wires.

The excavator reached the bottom of the stairs. Its blades shrieked across the floor, then it jolted level again. Its tracks clawed on the stone and it lumbered into the chamber. Olivia was still dragging Freddie toward the dragon. Freddie was starting to come around, but now that the excavator had found a level floor, it sped up. Its heavy tracks ground forward just in front of me. Stone cracked beneath its weight. I leaped for the machine. My hand caught a rung, and I swung myself up, over the grinding tracks.

Sir Titus still hadn't noticed me. He was leaning against the glass, trying to force his machine on faster. I felt the thrum of the boiler, smelled the red-hot metal and overheated oil—bitter, like burning rubber—and heard the pistons juddering inside.

The cab was enclosed, with a heavy glass windshield at the front, covered in a thick iron grille, and smaller glass windows at the side. I pulled the door open and swung myself in.

The cabin was no more than six feet square. Two seats faced the front windshield. Sir Titus swiveled as I entered. He released a lever and swung a fist at me. I ducked, and the excavator lurched to the side, knocking us both off balance. I fell to the floor. Sir Titus turned quickly back to his controls, straightening the machine. As I scrambled to my feet, he jerked both levers sharply up, locking them in place.

“Now, boy,” he said, rising, “it's time to put an end to your interference.”

He pulled out a long knife. I grabbed his arm with both hands, wrapping myself around it and pulling. He twisted, then tripped, and came tumbling over his seat.

His shoulder caught the edge of my chest, smashing me into the floor. Something snapped inside. I tried to breathe. It felt like I was sucking in fire. I gasped, and that hurt even more. I kept hold of Sir Titus's arm.

He regained his feet, dragging me with him. He drew his fist back and hammered it right into my face. For a second, everything went black. Then I was falling, back over the seat. My head smacked off the windshield. I slumped, upside down, on the driver's seat. Everything around me was a haze of red. I could hardly see. I scrabbled to pull myself up, but it hurt too much. My arms and legs had lost all their strength.

Sir Titus loomed above me. He raised his knife.

“Your stupid family has been a curse to me ever since your mother lost her inheritance,” Sir Titus spat. “I'm going to enjoy this, boy. I'm going to enjoy it very much.”

I tried to tumble off the seat, but my legs were still hooked over the back, and I was too weak. There was no escape. I looked around desperately.

“It's time, boy,” Sir Titus said. “Do me a favor.” He smiled. “Die screaming.”

My head rocked back. I didn't want to see it. I couldn't bear to. I had failed everyone. I was supposed to save my family. I couldn't even save myself.

My head smacked into something. I almost closed my eyes, but I wouldn't give in like that. I turned my face.

There was a red handle just below me. I blinked. A pressure release valve for the excavator's steam engine. I pulled the handle.

The steam vented from the boiler with a shriek that ripped through the chamber. The excavator's tracks stopped abruptly and it came to a sudden halt. Sir Titus was thrown forward. He put out a hand to support himself, but it slid off the smooth windshield. He crashed down onto the dashboard above me.

He stiffened with a strange, wet cough. His body went limp and he rolled to the side, slipping to the floor between the seats. I pushed free of the chair and slumped to my knees.

Sir Titus had fallen onto his own knife. The hilt and half the blade jutted from his chest; the rest was hidden inside him.

“You've killed me, boy,” he whispered.

Directly above, staring down at us through the windshield, was the head of the preserved dragon.

 

23

The Secret of the Dragon Tomb

The cabin door behind me banged open, and Freddie clambered in. I pushed away from the still-gasping Sir Titus. Freddie looked as bad as I felt. Blood trickled from his forehead, through the thick red Martian dust, all the way to his collar.

“Thank God,” he said. “You're alive, Edward.”

“And Olivia?” I asked.

“She saved me,” Freddie said. “And you saved us all.” He cleared his throat. “Your sister's remarkable, isn't she? Olivia, I mean. Not that your other sisters aren't, that is, but…”

“She is,” I said, and I meant it.

“Thank you,” he said, rather oddly. I wondered how badly he'd been hit on the head.

Sir Titus stared at Freddie, his eyes filled with hate. “So, you win. I am dying.”

Freddie glanced at him. “Don't be ridiculous. The knife missed your heart. You'll live to face justice.” He turned to me. “Edward, could you send Olivia up? I'll need her help to bind Sir Titus's wound. We'll tie him up and leave him here for now. This will make a good cell.”

“What about Sir Titus's men?” I said.