“The water abacus could not decode it,” Papa said. “Of course not. I decoded it myself.”
“That’s impossible,” I said wearily. “Sir Titus has been trying for years. Cousin Freddie has been trying for over a month.”
“Actually,” Papa said, looking a little smug, “it was quite easy”—his voice dropped—“when you realize that the key was not missing at all.”
“I don’t understand,” I said. I’d seen the ideograms on Freddie’s map. Putty and Freddie had explained them to me. There had been no key.
“The absence of the key is the key itself!” Papa said. “There is no ‘key’ symbol because the key is void.”
Putty let out a little squeak of excitement that made everyone jump. “Then—”
Papa nodded, although I still had no idea what he was talking about. “The ideograms relate through void.”
I frowned. “You mean the ideograms don’t relate to each other at all?”
“No, no, no,” Papa said. “Think of the void. The space between the worlds. That is the key. At first, I thought it meant there was no distance between the ideograms, nothing to modify the ideas, just as the void itself is empty, so the ideograms should be read individually. But that was too simple.”
Simple? I had no idea what he was talking about.
“Then I remembered the dragon paths,” Papa continued, excited. “The dragon paths join Mars to Earth, but not in a straightforward way. Mars and Earth are uncounted leagues apart. When ships sail dragon paths through the void, they should take years to arrive. Tens of years. But they don’t. They only take weeks. Somehow, the dragon paths compress the void between the worlds. That was the key! It was not that the ideograms had no distance between them. They had less than that. They overlapped. Once I realized that, it was easy.”
“Easy,” I repeated.
“Yes! All I needed to do was work out how the idea within each ideogram overlapped with its neighbor, and the meaning became clear. But…” Papa’s brow wrinkled. “The key of void has never been used before. I had never even heard of it. It can only mean one thing. This is a dragon tomb like no other.”
He had scarcely spoken the words before the low, constant rumble of the excavating machines cut off. In the silence, a loud cheer sounded.
“They’ve found it,” Putty said. “They’ve found the dragon tomb.”
* * *
Sir Titus came for us an hour later.
We’d sat in silence, listening to the shouts of Sir Titus’s men and the sound of pickaxes and shovels on stone. I’d wondered how he would do it. Would he shoot us or leave us out on the desert sands with no water and no shade? I couldn’t let him. If I jumped him, maybe someone would get away.
Footsteps approached in the corridor outside. I scrambled to my feet. There was nothing I could use as a weapon.
The door slammed open, and I leaped forward. Too late. Sir Titus had already taken a step back and drawn a long sword from his belt. I skidded to a halt.
“Take them,” he said. Half a dozen of his men pushed in and seized us. I struggled, but it was no good. They tied our hands behind us.
“What are you doing?” Papa demanded. He was much shorter than Sir Titus. His glasses had been knocked half off and he was unarmed, but he stood glaring at Sir Titus. “You have your dragon tomb. No one will stop you. Let us go.”
“Let you go?” Sir Titus raised an eyebrow. “But I had so hoped to hold a family reunion first. Bring them!”
“I do not understand what has happened to you, Sir Titus,” Mama said. “You loved me once. I know you did. Why are you doing this?”
A tight laugh escaped Sir Titus’s throat. “Loved you? The only thing any of your suitors cared for was your father’s fortune. Did you think we enjoyed taking part in your ridiculous salons?” He shook his head. “Didn’t you wonder why so many of your suitors suddenly found urgent business elsewhere when your father lost his money?”
Papa lifted his chin. “I, sir, never cared for her lack of fortune. I cared only for the brilliant woman I saw before me.”
Mama turned toward Papa, her eyes suddenly wide.
Sir Titus sneered down at Papa. “You? You are only a tradesman.”
“And he is a better man than you ever were,” Mama said defiantly.
Sir Titus gestured to his men. They dragged us out onto the burning sands. The excavating machines lay nearly silent, emitting only trickles of steam from their stoked boilers. The sharp metal blades gleamed, polished by cutting through the sand and rock. The machines were at least four times the length of a carriage and humped like a sand dune. Dozens of long brass pipes ran up their sides.
Smaller than a dragon, I thought.
A dark hole lay exposed in the side of the valley, not far from the excavators. As we were dragged out, Sir Titus’s men came over to stand in an arc behind him.
He lined us up, then drew his sword again. He strode over to Jane and lifted his sword to her throat. She looked pale, but she stared bravely ahead. Was this it? Was this how he was going to do it? I tensed. I didn’t think I could reach Jane, but I had to try.
Sir Titus turned and surveyed the tumbled rocks around the valley.
“Frederick Winchester!” he called. “I know you’re out there. Show yourself!”
His voice echoed around the valley. There was no answer.
“Show yourself, Mr. Winchester, or I will kill them, one at a time, in front of you.”
Papa threw himself forward. The man holding him jerked him back. Mama shrieked. There was still no reply from the rocks. Where was Freddie? Had his wound overcome him?
“Are you a coward? Very well.” Sir Titus pressed his sword against Jane’s neck
“I am here.”
Freddie emerged from the rocks and strode across the sand, his walking stick swinging from his hand. “Sir Titus Dane. You are a thief, a traitor, and a murderer. Surrender yourself.”
Sir Titus’s men drew weapons and started toward him.
Sir Titus laughed. “Leave him to me. I’ve waited a long time for this.”
He stepped forward, sword held loosely in his grip. I suddenly realized just how big Sir Titus Dane was. He was taller than Freddie. His arms were longer and his shoulders wider.
“Surrender myself to you, Mr. Winchester? Why, you are not even armed.”
With a single motion, Freddie twisted the top of his walking stick. The stick fell away, revealing a slim, gleaming sword.
“Surrender yourself,” Freddie said again. “You may receive mercy.”
They circled each other, swords held ready. The low desert sun flashed on the blades.
“You thought yourself so clever,” Sir Titus sneered. “Sneaking around Oxford, pretending to be a student. I had my suspicions right from the start. I thought you too stupid, even for a student, but it looks like I was wrong. You really are that stupid. Now I have these people you pretend are your family, and I have you, and I have my dragon tomb.”
Freddie only smiled. The smile seemed to drive Sir Titus into a rage. He swung his sword with a great overhand cut for Freddie’s head. Freddie slipped to the side, catching Sir Titus’s sword on his own and spinning past. Quicker than I could have imagined, Sir Titus regained his balance and turned to face Freddie again. Freddie’s hand dropped to the wound on his side before he caught the motion and straightened. But Sir Titus had seen it. He smiled.
“A little kiss from one of my men. Let me give you another.”
Something bumped my hands where they were tied behind my back. Putty had edged her way across while her captor was distracted by the fight. She glanced pointedly down. I understood. Very slowly, I bent my knees until my tied hands were level with hers.
Sir Titus lunged, forcing Freddie to twist across his wounded ribs. Sir Titus followed with a fist. The blow caught Freddie on the side of the face. He stumbled back, and Olivia gasped.
Putty’s fingers started to pluck at my knots. They were tight, and Putty had to mo
ve slowly so as not to draw attention, but she had clever fingers, and I felt the knots begin to loosen.
Freddie turned his stumble into a fall, rolling back over his shoulder and to his feet. He backed away warily, his sword held before him. Sir Titus followed. Around me, his men rushed forward, following the duel. Freddie’s eyes met mine for a second.
“Do you think you can run away?” Sir Titus taunted. “Coward!”
No, you idiot. He’s drawing you away. He was relying on me and Putty to free ourselves.
Sir Titus attacked, hammering blows on Freddie from left and right. Freddie defended desperately, staggering back beneath the heavy impacts. His sword seemed too thin to withstand the assault.
A knot loosened, and Putty dug in faster, tugging it apart.
Sweat dripped down Freddie’s forehead, matting his hair to his skin. His face creased with pain, and he hunched over his wounded side. I heard his harsh breath over the cheers of Sir Titus’s men.
The ropes binding my hands fell away. I found Putty’s ropes, still keeping my hands behind my back in case anyone glanced over. It should have been easier. My hands were untied and free. But my fingers kept fumbling.
Freddie slipped on the loose sand. His leg gave way beneath him. Sir Titus’s sword slashed in. Freddie threw himself to one side, but too slowly. The tip of Sir Titus’s sword cut a thin line across his shoulder.
Freddie kicked out, catching Sir Titus behind the knee. Sir Titus lurched forward. Then both men were on their feet again, circling each other.
My fingernail caught under one of Putty’s knots. I shoved it in further and pulled.
Now Sir Titus’s men had begun to chant, shouting his name and calling encouragement in several languages. The chant seemed to lend Sir Titus new energy. He renewed his attack, trying to batter Freddie’s defenses down with brute force. And it seemed to be working. Each time, Freddie seemed to find it harder to raise his sword. Both his wounds were bleeding. He looked ready to fall.
“All this way,” Sir Titus called, between blows. “All that desperate, pathetic struggle. It comes to this. Cut down on the sands.” He laughed and sent a vicious cut at Freddie’s head, which Freddie barely parried.
At last. The knot moved. I pulled it loose. A moment later, Putty’s hands were free.
“Help Livvy,” I whispered, my voice covered by the rising noise of Sir Titus’s men.
Now what? If we tried to run, we’d be seen. I hoped Freddie had a plan.
Freddie didn’t look like he had a plan. He looked like he was struggling to stay alive as Sir Titus pressed the attack, ever more viciously.
Freddie was a good actor. He’d fooled us into thinking he was a complete idiot. But he wasn’t acting that wound to his shoulder, nor the one to his side.
This was going to be down to me, again.
No, not just me. Putty and Olivia, too. Without them, I’d never have made it this far.
Sir Titus swung wildly at Freddie, a sweeping cut that could have sliced Freddie’s head from his shoulders. Freddie ducked beneath the stroke and slammed his elbow into Sir Titus’s back. Freddie met my eyes, and I nodded minutely, once.
Sir Titus swung around, his sword coming up, and this time Freddie didn’t retreat. He surged forward to meet the attack. Metal screeched on metal. For a moment, they were standing face to snarling face, blades locked. Then Sir Titus slammed his head down to head-butt Freddie.
Freddie was quicker. He tucked his chin to his chest, and Sir Titus’s nose caught on Freddie’s skull. With a roar of pain, Sir Titus staggered back, his hand coming up to his bloody nose, his eyes streaming tears. Blinking, he swung his sword wildly before him.
Freddie stepped in. His narrow blade whipped out, slicing into Sir Titus’s arm. The sword sprang from Sir Titus’s grip. Freddie rested the point of his sword against Sir Titus’s throat.
Around us, the cheering stopped. All I could hear was the gasping breath of the fighters and the low grumble of the stilled excavating machines.
All eyes were fixed on the two men.
“Surrender,” Freddie said again. “It’s over. You’ll never sell these secrets to Napoleon.”
Sir Titus glared down at Freddie. “Over? It isn’t over. My men have your cousins. They have your aunt and uncle. You will be the one who surrenders, or I will have them killed, one by one.” He spat blood onto the sand.
I glanced over at my sisters. Both Putty and Olivia had their hands free.
“Now!” I shouted, and launched myself at the guard in front of me.
I hit him full in the back with my shoulder. Even though he was taller than me, the impact knocked him to the ground. I grabbed his knife and threw myself toward where Mama, Papa, and Jane were being held. The man holding Papa was nearest. He looked around, startled. I collided with him, and we fell to the sand.
Chaos. We needed chaos. We couldn’t outfight all these men. I couldn’t even beat the man I was struggling with. All we needed was enough confusion for Freddie to use Sir Titus as a hostage to get us away. If we got to the airship, we could escape.
A knife pushed into the back of my neck. I twisted, flailing out. My arm cracked against the hilt, knocking it aside. I kicked free.
There was dust in my eyes. My legs tangled with the man I’d been fighting.
“Enough!” The voice spoke English with a harsh accent.
One of the guards had grabbed Mama by the hair and jerked her head back. His knife lay against her throat, pressing hard enough to leave a white line. She was weeping silently, her lips tight together. Papa had reached Jane and was struggling with her guard, but with his hands tied, he had no hope. I didn’t dare move for fear of what might happen to Mama. I couldn’t see Putty or Olivia.
Out on the sand, Freddie still held his sword to Sir Titus.
We were stuck. Stalemated.
All around us, men stood, weapons drawn, unsure what to do.
22
Retreat
The sun beat down on us. Heat radiated from the red sands. No one moved.
Then someone shouted, “Fire!”
Flames darted up the side of one of the tents, catching fast on the canvas and snapping into the air. A moment later, another erupted.
One of the excavators roared into life behind us. Steam shrieked into the air, and the enormous, sharp blades began to spin. I glimpsed Putty’s face in the cab. Men scattered, dodging away. The man holding Mama hesitated, his knife still pressed against her throat. Then, as the machine ground its way toward him, he shoved her away and ran. Mama fell, unable to keep her balance with her arms tied, right in front of the excavator.
Putty tried to turn the machine, but it was too close and too unwieldy.
I shoved myself away from the guards and raced toward Mama. Sand, dust, and grit spun through the air, smacking into my bare skin like tiny needles. The machine’s roar blotted out everything else. I saw Mama’s mouth open in a scream, but I couldn’t hear her voice.
I hit the sand, rolled, and came up against her. The machine loomed over us, shadowing the sun. Sharp metal blades plunged down.
I wrapped my arms around Mama and threw myself to one side. We tumbled over the shaking sand. A blade cut the ground not a foot from my head.
I rolled again. Mama’s head cracked into my cheek. The sand gave way beneath us, undermined by the excavator. We slid back. I couldn’t stop us. There was nothing I could grab.
With a scream, the steam vented from the machine’s boiler and the blades stopped turning. I blinked dust from my eyes. Above me, close enough that I could reach up and touch the scarred, hard metal, a blade was poised to cut down.
Sir Titus took advantage of the distraction. His uninjured arm came up, knocking Freddie’s sword aside. Before Freddie could react, Sir Titus turned and raced toward his men.
Something swished through the air. I ducked as a cloud of buzzdarts rushed through the air above me like a squadron of giant, deadly mosquitoes. They rattled off the excavator like me
tal hail. One of Sir Titus’s men prepared to toss another canister of buzzdarts at us.
I struggled to my feet and hauled Mama up after me. Her eyes were wide with shock, her face pale. Jane and Papa hurried toward us, supporting each other as best they could. I snatched up the knife I’d dropped.
All the tents were on fire now, flames jumping between them and racing over the canvas. A couple of men were scooping up sand and tossing it onto the tents, but it did no good.
Olivia burst from the midst of the burning tents. One of Sir Titus’s men came chasing after her, gaining on her with each stride. Freddie sprinted toward her. Buzzdarts surged at him, but he rolled under them, came to his feet, and kept running. He reached Olivia just as her pursuer caught her. His punch sent the man flying back.
“This way,” I called to Jane and Papa, beckoning them into the shelter of the giant excavator. Quickly, I cut the ropes binding their hands.
“Where now?” Papa panted. His face was flushed, but his mouth was set in a furious line.
“Retreat,” I said. “Help Mama.”
Mama was close to swooning. Only sheer terror was keeping her upright. I passed her to Papa and Jane, then set myself between them and Sir Titus’s men.
Freddie and Olivia ran toward us. A couple of Sir Titus’s men turned to cut them off, but most kept their line, advancing like a ragtag army. Sir Titus urged them on from behind.
We retreated, pressing ourselves against the excavator. The stink of heated metal and oil was almost overwhelming. When Sir Titus’s men reached the excavator, our cover would be gone, and we would have nowhere to retreat but the open sand and rock. Nowhere except …
The dragon tomb. It was behind us, a dark opening beneath the sand, leading down into the unknown. But it would be a dead end.
A dead end or dead on the sand. Not much of a choice.
The two men reached Freddie and Olivia. The first swung at Freddie. He ducked under the blow and kicked the man’s legs away. The second threw himself bodily at Olivia. They went down in a tangle. Freddie brought the handle of his sword down on the man’s head. The man slumped, and Olivia shoved him away.
I waved to attract Freddie’s attention, then indicated the opening to the dragon tomb.
Secrets of the Dragon Tomb Page 20