The Wrath of the Lizard Lord

by Jon Mayhew

  The count raised the rifle and pointed it at Dakkar, then turned it on the gorilla and fired.

  The gorilla yelped and stumbled backward, clutching his ear. ‘Thanks, your greatness,’ he whimpered. ‘I’ll wear that scar with pride.’

  ‘I was aiming for your nose,’ the count said, slapping the empty rifle into Mary’s hand. Another guard ran up with a freshly loaded one. ‘But next time maybe you’ll remember not to let total strangers do your job for you.’ He raised the rifle again. ‘Now, Prince Dakkar, suppose you tell me what it was you were up to in that ascender.’

  ‘You’ll know soon enough,’ Dakkar said, giving a tight smile. ‘You can kill me if you like but your game is over.’

  ‘Well, if I have your permission.’ The count grinned and settled the stock of the rifle into his shoulder.

  Georgia leapt forward, landing a fist square on the count’s jaw, while Mary grabbed his rifle. The gun went off but a louder sound above them drowned it out completely, making everyone freeze and stare upward.

  High above, the cloud layer glowed bright orange and swirled as if blown by some giant’s breath. A deafening roar filled the air and the ground beneath their feet shivered.

  ‘It’s over,’ Dakkar said simply.

  The smouldering carcass of a reptile thudded to the ground between the count and Dakkar. Stefan stared in horror at this strange sight. Then another landed and another, crushing two guards before they could even scream. Another pounded the drill square, kicking up a fog of dust.

  ‘It’s raining reptiles,’ cried the gorilla, running towards the gunpowder store with his hands over his head.

  More rubble began to clatter to earth. Spars of flaming wood stabbed into the ground like giant spears. Rocks and boulders thudded down. One crashed into the cages holding the wild reptiles, killing a few but liberating many. These leapt from their prisons, pouncing on men, ripping and tearing at them.

  The guards around the count began to waver, staring around at the chaos, some looking up at the sky as more debris crashed to the ground. Some fired on the reptiles. Others began to run for the stockade gate, joining an increasing crowd.

  ‘What have you done?’ the count said in a low voice.

  Dust from the falling masonry billowed up in a huge fog. Screams and explosions, crashes and thuds punctuated the continuous rumbling from above. A whole section of wall thumped into the earth, taking the fence of the herbivores’ corral down and panicking the beasts.

  The earth shook more violently as a grey tide of horns and armour plate rumbled across the stockade towards Dakkar and the count.

  ‘Run!’ Georgia cried, grabbing Mary’s hand.

  Dakkar glanced at the count, uncertain what to do next.

  ‘Don’t think this is over, boy,’ Stefan said with a contemptuous sneer, and ran into the mist away from the oncoming wave of reptiles.

  Dakkar had no time to reply. He could see the wild eyes of the creatures, could feel the thunder of their feet through the ground. Turning on his heel, he sprinted after Mary and Georgia.

  The stampede drove them on. Mary stumbled. Dakkar gasped for breath, scooping up Mary by the arm, then he and Georgia dragged her along. The reptiles’ heavy tread thundered in Dakkar’s ears – they were gaining on them. More rocks tumbled from above, some thumping into the startled reptiles and rolling them into a leathery pile-up. Another minute and Dakkar, Mary and Georgia would be crushed by the frantic animals. Out of the corner of his eye, Dakkar spied the main door of the tower. Smoke poured out of it. The tower guards staggered into the path of the terrified reptiles.

  ‘Into the tower!’ Dakkar shouted. ‘We have to find Gog and Napoleon!’

  They veered left, throwing themselves into the tower’s entrance hall as the mass of rampaging creatures crashed against the wall and surged past.

  For a second, they lay gasping in a heap but smoke billowed around the hall and men scurried past them. Somewhere overhead, Gweek squawked.

  ‘I knew you were just pretending to support Cryptos,’ Dakkar lied, catching his breath. ‘Thank goodness!’

  ‘I was biding my time,’ Georgia replied, staggering to her feet, ‘trying to figure out what he was up to and then put a stop to it, but that involved winning his trust.’

  ‘Well, you could’ve just blown ’im up like Dakkar did,’ Mary said, brushing her dark hair from her face.

  Georgia narrowed her eyes at Mary. ‘You were all for abandoning Dax when I first met you and you seemed quite cosy with the count.’

  ‘Dax?’ Dakkar said, pulling a face.

  ‘Well then, you set me a poor example, didn’t you?’ Mary retorted.

  The whole building shuddered and masonry rattled to the stone floor. Gweek flew in through the gaping door and nestled in Dakkar’s jacket, hiding from the noise and chaos.

  ‘We haven’t time for bickering,’ Dakkar said, grabbing Georgia’s arm. ‘We need to find the cells. Can you lead us to them?’

  ‘Of course I can,’ Georgia said, hurrying across the hallway to a splintered door that hung off its hinges. ‘C’mon – down here.’

  They clattered down some rough stone steps and into familiar passageways lined with doors. The entire corridor trembled.

  ‘We need to check each cell and open the doors,’ Dakkar said over the increasing rumble from above.

  A wild-eyed guard leapt in front of them, waving a pistol. Blood trickled down his cheek and dust coated his uniform. Dakkar spied a bunch of keys at his belt.

  ‘Don’t move,’ he said, jabbing the pistol at Dakkar.

  ‘For goodness’ sake, man,’ Dakkar yelled. ‘We don’t have time for this. Look around you – the building is collapsing. Now give me the keys and get out of here, or do you want to wait to be crushed?’ Dakkar nodded up to the ceiling as more dust and mortar streamed from between the sagging roof blocks.

  The man fumbled at his belt and threw the keys at Dakkar then barged past them without a backward glance.

  The deep rumbling grew louder, sending Dakkar scurry­ing along the passage, fumbling at the lock of each door when he saw giants inside. The corridor filled with huge figures – giant men, women and children all wide-eyed with terror. Georgia herded them through the passage and up to the stairs.

  Halfway down, Dakkar threw open a door and there stood Gog, arms wrapped around a giant woman and a boy. They filled the cell yet looked small and lost at the same time.

  ‘Gog!’ Dakkar yelled, and rushed forward, wrapping his arms round the giant’s huge leg.

  The giant’s eyes brightened. ‘Dakkar,’ he said, his voice booming above the grumbling building. ‘What is happening?’

  ‘No time,’ Dakkar said. ‘We must get everyone out.’

  As if to emphasise Dakkar’s point, a huge block fell into the corner of the cell.

  Gog hurried out into the corridor.

  He gave a guttural shout down the passageway and, realising that the guards had gone, the remaining giants inside the other cells began to kick the doors down.

  ‘My son,’ Gog said, nodding to the boy who looked sullenly at Dakkar. ‘And Greela,’ he said, nodding to the woman.

  Dakkar gave a brief smile but this wasn’t the time for introductions. ‘I need to find Napoleon,’ he said, hurrying to the nearest closed door and pressing his face to the bars. A hiss and a swish of claws inches from his nose told him that Bonaparte wasn’t in that cell.

  After two more doors, Dakkar heard the Frenchman calling to him. Dakkar hurried down the corridor and stabbed the key into the lock.

  The sound of grating masonry deafened him now and huge cracks appeared across the vaulted ceiling.

  ‘Thank you, my friend,’ Napoleon gasped, hurrying alongside Dakkar. ‘But when I said a distraction I meant something a little less drastic!’

  ‘I didn’t think it would be so destructive,’ Dakkar said, ‘but it did the job.’

  Gog froze in front of them and glanced back. Giants were still crawling out of the
cells and a huge crowd filled the passage behind Dakkar. They looked up at the motes of dust that poured through ever-widening cracks in the stonework. The ceiling above Gog began to give way.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Sacrifice

  The thunder of falling rock above them grew more intense. Instinctively, Gog heaved his shoulders up against the ceiling, bracing it above him. He screwed his face up and gritted his teeth. For a moment the dust settled and the ceiling held.

  ‘I can hold,’ Gog said, his whole body straining. ‘Go fast!’

  ‘No, we can do something,’ Dakkar said, looking from Bonaparte to Georgia to Mary, helplessly. ‘There must be . . .’

  ‘You know there isn’t time, Dakkar,’ Georgia said, stifling a sob.

  ‘Go!’ Gog grunted again, sweat dripping from his brow. Every muscle in his body bulged and trembled. ‘You live. Hunt. Kill Stefan.’

  Someone barged Dakkar aside and Gog’s son hugged the giant. He stroked his father’s cheek and then was hurried away by his mother, who gave Gog a final, longing look. Dakkar stood frozen, staring into Gog’s pleading eyes. The tide of giants scurrying under Gog pushed Dakkar further and further up the corridor until Mary and Georgia grabbed his arms and pulled him up the steps.

  Gog gave him a last despairing smile and lowered his shaggy head. With a deafening roar, the tunnel filled with smoke and dust as the ceiling collapsed. Dakkar let himself be dragged into the hallway, where rubble bounced down the staircase like a mountain stream.

  The daylight dazzled Dakkar as he stumbled outside and into the wreckage of the courtyard. Gweek wrestled itself out of his jacket and fluttered above his head. Dakkar stood with Mary, Georgia, Napoleon and a growing crowd of giants staring in dazed wonder at the carnage.

  Piles of masonry dotted the ground to the stockade wall. Some chunks of the tower had flattened the wall itself, scattering the huge sharp-pointed logs that had formed it. Here and there, a reptilian leg poked out of the rubble. Smoke and dust filled the air, coating their mouths and noses.

  Behind them the mountain of rocks that had once been the tower sat smouldering, bits and pieces still thumping to the ground or rattling down its steep sides. A ridge of debris stretched off across the clearing and into the sea, clearly marking where the middle of the tower had fallen. Still more had punched new clearings into the thick jungle further away.

  Napoleon slapped the dust from his greatcoat and spluttered. ‘We have escaped from the frying pan,’ he declared, ‘but I fear we have jumped into the fire.’

  The fog of dust and smoke broke to reveal a rank of Cryptos guards creeping forward through the rubble. Some were armed with rifles, a few were mounted on reptiles, but Dakkar noted with grim satisfaction that the rest were on foot. They looked warily at the giants.

  ‘I see fear in their eyes,’ Dakkar said to Napoleon.

  ‘Kill them!’ cried a voice from above.

  Dakkar looked up to see the count leaning from the basket of a hot-air balloon.

  ‘Cut them down. Show them no mercy!’ the count bellowed, his eyes wide with rage.

  The men looked up at the count and then back at the mass of giants who flanked Dakkar and his party. One by one, the giants grabbed at snapped beams or smaller chunks of stone, testing their weight as weapons. Some pulled at the bars of the wrecked cages, straightening the bent metal into makeshift spears.

  ‘What are you waiting for?’ the count howled. ‘Attack! Attaaaaack!’

  But it was the giants who responded to the count’s command, answering him with a deep roar and charging forward. Some hurled their newly crafted spears – Dakkar saw a reptile rider fall, pinioned to his mount as it bounded out of the ruined stockade into the river. The giants charged forward and Dakkar joined them, adding his roar to theirs. A few gunshots went off but the Cryptos Guard didn’t have time to reload before the giants were upon them.

  Some men turned and ran, dropping their weapons. Dakkar snatched up a rifle and turned to aim at the balloon. It had drifted higher but still offered an easy target. He squeezed the trigger.

  A loud thump deafened Dakkar and the world went black for an instant. Smoke filled his mouth and nostrils and stung his eyes. Spluttering, Dakkar dropped the rifle and stumbled back. Whoever owned the rifle had loaded it in haste. The gunpowder in the pan of the rifle had ig­­­nited, making an eye-watering cloud of smoke but nothing more.

  Rubbing his eyes, Dakkar staggered forward, bar­ging into someone. His vision cleared to reveal the bald, ruddy-faced man Dakkar had met bringing the prisoners in.

  ‘You!’ the man snarled, swinging his sword down at Dakkar.

  Dakkar threw up the rifle in his hands to block the blow and pushed back, sending the man tumbling over a reptile carcass. He jumped to his feet but Dakkar brought the butt of the rifle round, catching him square on the jaw. The man twirled round, blood splattering from his mouth. He landed heavily on the ground and lay still.

  Around Dakkar, giants swung improvised clubs, sending Cryptos guards flying in all directions. One giant lay pinned by a reptile rider, its teeth grazing his throat. Dakkar snatched up a bar from a smashed cage in both hands and ran, screaming, at the rider. The reptile turned its head, jaws open, and the bar sank into its throat before the rider could swing his sword down on Dakkar. The reptile reared up, wrenching the bar out of Dakkar’s hands and throwing the rider to the ground, where another giant fell upon him.

  Dakkar hurried on, searching for a rifle. He glanced up – the balloon was growing smaller by the second, carried up on the warm breeze.

  He scanned the heaving mass of giants, reptiles and men and spotted Georgia standing on a boulder with a smoking gun. He nodded and then pointed at the balloon that was getting further away. Georgia pulled out more powder, wadding and musket balls and began loading.

  A gunshot echoed across the battleground and a ball zipped past Dakkar’s ear. It sank into the thigh of a nearby giant, sending him crashing to the ground. The guard who had managed to reload charged forward at Dakkar. Dakkar snatched a bayonet from the fallen guard’s hand and managed to swing it up to parry the man’s rifle butt. Dakkar’s arm numbed from wrist to elbow with the blow. Gweek swooped down, screeching and clawing at the man’s face. Dakkar kicked out as the man stumbled on past him, catching him in the side of the head. The guard scrambled to his feet and drew a pistol from his belt. Dakkar froze.

  Napoleon appeared behind the guard, gripping the man’s pistol arm. The guard spun round and the two struggled, the pistol between them.

  Dakkar ran forward and grabbed at the guard but the pistol exploded into life and Napoleon staggered back. Around them the tumult died and the giants stood panting for breath. The only Cryptos guard still standing held the smoking pistol.

  Napoleon stared in disbelief at the crimson stain spreading across the chest of his greatcoat.

  The guard glanced at Dakkar and the giants, who edged closer and closer, then made a headlong sprint for the gate.

  ‘Napoleon!’ Dakkar ran forward, cradling the emperor as he fell. ‘Georgia, Mary, get bandages! Quickly!’

  ‘No, mon ami,’ Napoleon said with a rattling breath. ‘I am done for.’

  Georgia and Mary hurried to Dakkar’s side.

  ‘We can get the shot out,’ Dakkar almost shouted. ‘We must be able to do something!’

  ‘Listen carefully,’ Napoleon gasped, wincing at the effort of speaking. ‘You must stop the count. He will cause chaos, and France and all Europe will be doomed. Though it pains me to say it, for the good of France you must ensure that my armies are defeated.’

  ‘Rest yourself,’ Dakkar said, his voice soothing. Images of Oginski, pale and fading fast, flashed through his mind. Gog’s final smile. So much death. He could save Napoleon – he must!

  ‘Listen to me!’ Napoleon said, his voice gravelly. ‘I have been calculating while I’ve been here. My double on the surface knows my plan well. He will march up through France and strike the British and
Dutch from near Brussels.’

  ‘Stefan said to me that the battleground had already been chosen,’ Dakkar said, frowning. ‘He wants to annihilate them all.’

  ‘He will try to take them by surprise,’ Napoleon said, his breathing ragged. ‘By my calculation, the tunnel he dug will have reached the surface near there.’

  ‘If he’s marching from Paris, he’ll attack from the west,’ Mary said.

  ‘If it were me,’ Napoleon said, gripping Dakkar’s hand, ‘I would use the forces I have to get behind the British, to outflank them. And that’s what he’ll do.’

  ‘But how can we stop him?’ Dakkar said. ‘We have no armies or cavalry!’

  ‘You have the spark of greatness in you,’ Napoleon said, clasping Dakkar’s fist. ‘One day, men will either fear or celebrate your name. I have faith in you.’

  Napoleon’s hold loosened and he gave one last breath before slumping gently into Dakkar’s arms.

  Dakkar wept. For Gog. For Napoleon. And for Oginski, who might be dead for all he knew. If only he were here, Dakkar thought. He’d know what to do.

  He glanced up to the skies. The count’s hot-air balloon was a tiny speck in the far distance.

  ‘I will stop you, Count Cryptos,’ Dakkar said, holding Napoleon’s cooling hand. ‘I swear it.’

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Farewells and Forgiveness

  A haze of woodsmoke hung over the giants’ camp. In the glow of the fire, men sang and passed food and drink. Gog’s son sat on a huge wooden throne, glowering into the flickering flames.

  Dakkar shivered. ‘We’re outstaying our welcome,’ he said as he sat at the door of his hut, watching the remnants of the underworld tribes dancing and telling tales.

  ‘You can’t blame Gog’s son for resenting us,’ Georgia said, folding her arms and leaning against the hut wall next to Dakkar. ‘To him, there’s little difference between us and the count’s men.’

  ‘You two wearin’ them ridiculous black uniforms doesn’t help,’ Mary said from within the hut. She sat on a makeshift stool carved from an old log. ‘A girl in trousers? You’ll be carted off to the asylum when we get topside again!’