by carl ashmore
A spark of understanding glimmered in the Sphinx’s eyes.
‘You have inhabited this place for too long, and it is wrong you were left here to protect the spear. But, as a true descendent of Atlantis, I claim what is duly mine. I claim the spear for good … for a rightful cause. Your work here is done. You should leave, and roam these lands as a free being. My friends and I can take you there, we can show you the sun again...’
The Sphinx growled threateningly.
‘Please, I do not wish to fight you.’
With a terrible howl, the Sphinx leapt at him, jaws wide open, drool dangling like syrup from yellowing fangs; the stench of its breath fouled the air.
Becky screamed.
Edgar weaved right, skirting the attack. He wrapped his huge arms round the Sphinx’s chest and, with a guttural roar, hurled it to the side. ‘Please,’ he panted madly. ‘I do not want this…’
The Sphinx clambered upright and swung its right paw at him, scythe-like claws glinting in the light. Edgar moved quickly but the claw’s tip sank into his snout, blood spattering the ground. The Sphinx lashed out again; this time Edgar caught the paw, knocking it aside, before sending his fist powerfully into its underbelly. The Sphinx howled. Recovering quickly, it pounced again, two clawed feet targeting Edgar’s head. Edgar grasped them, but the Sphinx’s weight was too much. He fell backwards, smashing his skull brutally against hard ground, dazing him. Pinned down beneath the Sphinx’s colossal bodyweight, he scratched desperately for air.
‘Enough is enough,’ Uncle Percy said, waving his sword high. ‘For Edgar...’
He charged towards the battle.
Will didn’t hesitate. He sent an arrow through the air. Joe did the same. Both arrows slammed into the Sphinx’s chest, but it continued relentlessly. Sensing victory, the Sphinx’s mouth stretched open. Edgar forced his hands against its jaws, trying vainly to push them away, but the Sphinx was too strong.
Slowly, the Sphinx’s cavernous mouth inched towards Edgar’s neck, locking in on it, pointed teeth close to bare skin. More arrows punctured the Sphinx’s body, but nothing could stop its sheer power.
‘No!’ Uncle Percy yelled, metres away from the fight.
The Sphinx’s jaws closed around Edgar’s neck.
Becky’s head spiralled with fear. The Sphinx would kill Edgar. The image scorched her retinas. And then she knew what to do. She veered her gaze towards Poseidon’s statue, towards the spear, focusing hard. Harder than she’d ever focused on anything in her life. At once, she felt a peculiar sensation prickle the top of her head, like dripping water, before spreading over her skull, leaking into her eyes. But this time she expected it. She wanted it.
She controlled it.
All at once, the Spear shuddered in Poseidon’s hand. With a crack, the hand shattered around it. Then, as if with a will of its own, the spear took off, tearing through the air like a bullet, towards the battle, towards the Sphinx. And then -
It plunged into the Sphinx’s back, ripping through flesh, splintering bone. The Sphinx roared with agony as life ebbed from its body, releasing Edgar.
The Sphinx went still. With a final gasp of life, it fell sideways, dead.
Gasps of disbelief swept the hall. All eyes fell on Becky.
Becky opened her mouth to say something, but quickly closed it again. What could she say? In silence, she walked up to the others, Layla following in a bewildered daze.
‘You did it,’ Joe wheezed, still trying to process all that had happened. ‘You did it. You really can move stuff with your mind.’
Becky nodded. ‘I told you I could.’ But her words held no joy.
Uncle Percy’s eyes narrowed. ‘And you can control the telekinesis now?’
‘I think so,’ Becky replied. ‘In fact, I’m sure of it.’
Layla glanced at Becky with a newfound awe. ‘You are a God!’ she said quietly.
‘No,’ Becky replied. She looked over at Edgar and saw he hadn’t moved. Horrified, she said, ‘Edgar … is he -’ She couldn’t finish the sentence.
Uncle Percy dashed over to Edgar, dropping at his side. Quickly, his fingers searched for a pulse. ‘He’s alive.’
Edgar groaned slightly. ‘Barely.’ His eyes flickered open. He glanced at the Sphinx and shuddered, before looking back at the others. ‘Once again, you have saved my life.’
‘My weirdo sister did it,’ Joe replied jubilantly. ‘She’s like a superhero.’ He turned back to Becky. ‘We’re gonna have to get you a cape.’
Becky scowled at him. ‘Shut up.’
Then another voice met her ears. ‘A superhero, eh? How very interesting.’
It was Butterby.
Becky sighed with relief. Butterby was alive. She watched him get to his feet, his face still turned away from them. But it was when he looked back at them that her blood turned cold.
The right half of his face had been torn off. But instead of merely flesh and bone, a metal plate gleamed brightly, interwoven with tendons and shredded muscle. Strips of coloured wire, severed and ragged, drooped outwards like caterpillars. The cornea of his left eye had been split open, revealing a winking yellow light where a pupil should have been.
Terrified and confused, Becky’s gaze found Uncle Percy, who looked more shocked than she had ever seen him.
‘Charming,’ Butterby said. Then his fingers extended upwards and stroked his ravaged face. ‘Ah, that would explain it.’ He gave a repulsive laugh. ‘I am sorry for this rather shocking turn of events. But I just want you to know it’s been lovely seeing you all again.’
Uncle Percy looked like a broken man.
‘What is it, Percy? Butterby scoffed. ‘You look rather surprised. Gosh, haven’t I given you enough clues?’ He shook his head with feigned disappointment. ‘I mean, do you really think the Omega Effect would force you to a Time Point a hundred years from your inputted destination. No, that was a Chrono-Magnetizer I had in my bag. You could’ve set the bus’s time-pad for last week and you’d have still ended up in 1360BC.’ He laughed chillingly. ‘And what about all the other clues - Butterby’s pale complexion, which I rectified with some ladies’ blusher when I popped to the bathroom – his complete absence of perspiration? Do think the living Butterby could have lifted all of those stones?’ He pointed at Joe. ‘Hell, even the brat said Butterby’s hands were freezing cold. Goddammit, Percy, how many more pointers do you need?’ Butterby laughed again. ‘You utter fool. Didn’t I mention at that ridiculous party I’d made some groundbreaking accomplishments in the field of cyrobotics? Surely, you didn’t think it was just prehistoric sharks I could transform into cyrobots? Don’t you ever listen to anything other than your own ego?’
It was then Becky understood exactly what was going on.
Charles Butterby was a cyrobot. And Emerson Drake was controlling him.
Emerson Drake had been with them all along.
Chapter 27
The Chamber’s End
‘So when did you do it, Emerson?’ Uncle Percy said, crushed and defeated. ‘When did you kill Charles? When did you create this abomination?’
‘In the time he returned home from Bowen Hall to prepare for this trip. I was waiting for him with a rather average cognac from his drinks cabinet.’ Butterby smiled cruelly. ‘To be frank, he deserved to die, if only for the quality of his Christmas decorations. He had a white plastic Christmas tree, for heaven’s sake.’ The smile turned into a hideous snigger. ‘Of course, I had to journey back forty eight hours to give me enough time to transform his corpse into a cyrobot, but I returned him to the present, so as far as you were concerned no time had passed other than a few hours. And if you’re interested in how he died, well … it was quite a wretched affair, pitiful even. Clean, of course, I didn’t want it bloody; after all, I needed his torso in as good a condition as possible. But I’ve never heard someone beg quite so much to stay alive. He genuinely wanted to live, which rather surprised me looking at the state of his pitiful life. I’d like to say his death was quick a
nd easy, but I’m afraid that would be a lie.’
Uncle Percy’s head lowered. ‘You’re a fiend.’
‘I’m an artist, Percy. Seriously, who else could conceive and build the Embellic processor - a device, which can turn a corpse into an outwardly living, breathing humanoid. Now, you have to admit, that takes a true innovator.’
‘No, it takes a true deviant.’
‘Oh, come on,’ Butterby replied dismissively. ‘If you weren’t so goody-goody you’d see the brilliance in it. Think about it, his voice, his motor functions, his every movement, all of it controlled by a device no bigger than a matchbox fitted just behind his right eye. That’s the difference between us, Percy, I’ve achieved something you could never dream of doing in a dozen lifetimes.’
‘The difference between us is that I’d never dream of trying.’
Butterby snorted. ‘Whatever. The simple fact is, I could fill the world with cyrobots and get away with murder.’ He laughed again. ‘Of course, murder would be required to acquire my guinea pigs in the first place, but that’s a small price to pay for such innovation. Don’t you think?’
‘I think you’re inhuman,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘Other than that, words fail me.’
‘Thank God,’ Butterby replied. ‘I’m sure we’re all extremely grateful.’
Becky reeled with hatred and confusion. But through everything, one thought echoed in her head. ‘WHERE’S MY DAD?’ she roared.
‘Ah, that old chestnut again,’ Butterby replied with a scoff. ‘He’s safe, I suppose. At least, I think so. To be honest, I haven’t visited him for some time. I’ve had other things on my plate. But if it gives any comfort at all, I get others to ensure he’s kept in the most appalling conditions known to man. Truly horrible conditions. God knows how he’s lasted this long. But the last time I did see him he looked very unwell. As a matter of fact, I’d say he was wasting away to nothing. Perhaps his health is something we should discuss in the future? As I’ve said before, you could help him you know.’
‘But that would mean helping you,’ Becky said in a quiet voice, containing her anger. ‘And I’d never do that.’
‘Then you have no right to be angry with me for all that’s happened to him. One could even say it’s your fault. And besides, you’ve already helped me, my dear.’ Butterby nodded at the sphinx. ‘That creature would have torn this body to bits. Anyway, I must be on my way, but I have made arrangements for you to have company soon enough.’
‘What do you mean, Emerson?’ Uncle Percy said at once.
Butterby’s fingers found his necklace. ‘Well, didn’t you find all of my mutterings somewhat strange? The necklace is a Sonay-transmitter. I’ve been in touch with Doctor Heim throughout our expedition. I believe he’ll be here soon.’ He noted the fearful look on Uncle Percy’s face. ‘Yes, Doctor Heim is quite keen to make your acquaintance. He’s been doing some outstanding work in this time zone and has proven very useful.’ He turned towards the spear. ‘Now, perhaps it’s time I got what I came for.’ He stepped forward.
‘I don’t think so, Emerson.’ In a flash, Uncle Percy drew the Temporaliser and fired.
The blast struck Butterby’s chest. For a fleeting moment, he looked stunned, confused even, but then his face split into a mocking grin. He was still moving. ‘It seems the steel encasing Butterby’s cerebellum has prevented the exclocidiant from working. What a shame…’ He was about to say something else, when an arrow punctured his forehead. Butterby chuckled horribly, before turning to face Will, who stared back contemptuously, his bow raised. He ripped out the shaft and cast it aside. ‘Butterby’s already dead, you moron. And I’m a thousand years away.’ He continued his advance.
Teeth gritted, Uncle Percy drew his sword and charged. ‘NO,’ he shouted. Reaching Butterby in seconds, he swung the blade at his neck. But Butterby ducked the strike. Seizing Uncle Percy’s wrist, he squeezed tightly. Uncle Percy screamed with pain. He fell to his knees, the Temporevolver clattering to the floor. At the same time, Will unsheathed his sword and hurtled forward. Butterby saw this and scooped up the pistol. He targeted Will and fired. BAM! Will froze mid run. Turning the gun on Edgar, Butterby fired again.
‘Now let’s finish something I should have done years ago.’ Butterby grabbed Uncle Percy’s throat, his fingers sinking deep into flesh.
Uncle Percy’s face contorted as he scraped for air.
Joe sent an arrow into Butterby’s wrist. It made no difference.
With a manic grin, Butterby pushed his fingers deeper into Uncle Percy’s throat.
Paralyzed with fear, Becky drew Orff’s knife. She looked at Uncle Percy, the fight deserting his body, and then at Butterby, whose one normal eye blazed with hatred. And then it struck her. The eyes! Drake had said the device that controlled Butterby’s body was behind his right eye. Without hesitation, she ploughed all her energies into Orff’s knife. Almost immediately, she felt the watery sensation brush her skull. Heart pounding, she watch the knife quiver in her palm. And then it was slicing the air. Before she could even catch a breath, the blade had plunged into Butterby’s eye, burrowing deep, right to the hilt. At once, his entire body froze in time, like a battery within had lost all charge.
Uncle Percy prized Butterby’s fingers from his throat and collapsed to the ground, filling his lungs with as much air as he could. A second passed. Will and Edgar emerged from their immobile state, astonished by what they saw.
Colour returning to his cheeks, Uncle Percy panted, ‘Thank you, Becky.’
‘That’s okay.’
Not wasting a moment, Uncle Percy scrambled to his feet. ‘Heim is on his way,’ he said, still winded. ‘I must get the spear out of here.’ His fingers found his wrist portravella. ‘Edgar, take it.’
Unquestioning, Edgar clambered up. In one powerful movement, he wrenched the spear from the sphinx’s corpse.
Uncle Percy punched six digits into the portavella. Almost immediately, the light extended up his arm and across his body. He raced over and gripped Edgar’s arm. The two of them were encased in a giant orb of shimmering light and -
SNAPPP – they disappeared.
Becky didn’t know what to say. Still reeling with shock, she watched as a tiny ball of light appeared in the same spot Uncle Percy and Edgar had been, growing in size, then - POP - they were standing there again, safe and sound.
‘ That’s that taken care of,’ Uncle Percy said, looking refreshed and completely different from how she had seen him moments before. ‘The spear is now buried somewhere Heim and Drake can never find it.’
Becky was about to reply when a deafening crack shook the room. Horrified, she looked up. A giant fissure had severed the roof. Another loud crack, this time to their right. A column had split down the middle. Then it collapsed, clouding the air with dust.
Uncle Percy looked alarmed. ‘Oops. The spear doesn’t appear to appreciate being moved. I never considered that.’
Suddenly, columns were crumbling all around them.
‘Let’s time travel out of here then!’ Joe yelled over the din.
‘I’ve just used the last of the Gerathnium,’ Uncle Percy replied. ‘Err, RUN!’
Becky had never run so fast. Every muscle in her body squealed as she sped out of the temple and into the forest. Trees toppled around her; earth pounded down from above in colossal chunks, sending dense, billowing clouds of soil all around. The group hurtled into the corridor, weaving past the sarcophagi, the marble walls splitting as they passed, before collapsing in on themselves, burying the Minotaur statues forever beneath tonnes of earth. Seconds later, the column of fire came into view; Becky, feeling like her legs would give up on her at any moment, trailed Layla through it into the Chamber of the Ancients, and one by one, they flew up the steps, dripping with sweat, tired beyond belief.
Each step burned Becky’s thighs, but she could see light now.
Daylight.
Chaos still thundered on behind them, but the noise was fading slightly, as, on
e after another, they fought their way up each step, before leaping into the open air, each one of them collapsing onto soft sand, breathless, winded, the excruciating pain of the sprint filling their bodies, searing their very souls.
Becky lay flat on the sand, eyes shut, gulping huge squalls of hot air into her mouth; for what seemed like an age, she listened to the thump of her heartbeat as she waited desperately for the pain to subside.
But then she heard something else.
Layla’s scream.
Jolting upright, she opened her eyes and her world stopped.
Associates surrounded them on all sides; clad head to toe in black suits and mirrored sunglasses, each one held a submachine gun.
Becky’s nightmare expanded as the wall of Associates parted, and a tall, elderly man in a pristine white suit and matching fedora hat strode forward, moving in slow, considered steps, a cruel smile fixed to his mouth.
‘How delightful to meet you all,’ the man said with a heavy accent. His dark brown eyes found Edgar’s. ‘Of course, some of us have already met before. I hope you are in fine spirits, Edgar?’
‘H-Heim?’ Edgar spluttered with terror.
‘The very same.’ His icy stare fell on Uncle Percy. ‘Percy Halifax. Welcome to my care. From the tremendous uproar below, I can only assume you’ve located the Spear of Fate and removed it from its resting place. And as I can see it’s not in your possession now, I can only assume you’ve hidden it somewhere in history. Am I correct?’
Uncle Percy didn’t reply.
‘Very well.’ Heim’s smile broadened. ‘Well, first of all, may I offer my most sincere congratulations on acquiring it. From what Mister Drake has told me, you’ve had quite the adventure. And secondly, would you care to tell me precisely where and when it is?’
Again, Uncle Percy remained silent.
‘Excellent,’ Heim replied. His gaze locked on Becky. ‘In my experience, there’s always something about a child in unconditional pain that makes even the most obstinate man confess everything...’