The Osiris Curse

by Paul Crilley

  Tweed shielded his head and prepared for the second volley, but instead he heard a deep, booming voice echoing mechanically throughout the canyon.

  “Sorry! So sorry! Thought you were someone else. But you're not. Obviously. Um…hello Molock.”

  Molock wiped the dust from his eyes and blinked at the huge airship floating in the air before them. Except it really wasn't like an airship. It looked more like a spaceship from a Atticus Pope novel. Tweed reckoned this was what a minnow felt like facing down a shark.

  “Solomon Okpara,” muttered Molock. There was relief as well as resignation in his voice.

  And a small amount of trepidation as well.

  “Molock!” boomed Solomon Okpara, striding across the deck of his ship and enfolding the smaller Hyperborean in his massive arms.

  Tweed couldn't help staring. Solomon Okpara was huge, a massive, solid slab of lizard with a huge gut. He was about seven feet tall, his yellow and red eyes wide with happiness.

  “I thought I'd lost you, my friend,” said Solomon, smacking Molock on the back then pushing him away to arm's length so he could get a better look at him.

  Molock patted Solomon's arms. “Good to see you too, Solomon.” He looked around. “What happened here?”

  Solomon's face darkened. He moved Molock aside and lashed out to his left, smashing his taloned fist into the closest wall. He then spent a few seconds swearing violently while he tried to wrest his fist free.

  “Royal Guard,” he said, and spat on the deck. “They came soon after you went topside. Caught us all by surprise.”

  Molock stepped away, leaning on the railing of the ship and staring down into the canyon. “Any other survivors?”

  “Oh yes. We had an hour's warning. We got many to safety. What you see around you is the remains of the battle of those who stayed to defend their retreat.”

  “How many lost?”

  “Seventy-two.”

  Molock's grip on the railing tightened so much that the wood splintered and cracked. Tweed raised his eyebrows and glanced at Octavia. He hadn't realized Molock was so strong.

  Solomon put his meaty hand on Molock's slim shoulder. “Seventy-two lost their lives so two hundred and thirteen could escape. But we will make them pay, brother. We will get you your throne back. We will banish the pretenders and bring peace to the land. Just like the old days, yes? Solomon as your royal guard, ordering many flunkies to do his bidding.” He sighed. “Good times.”

  “Sorry to interrupt the reunion,” said Elizabeth. “But I really think we need to start thinking of a way to stop Sekhem and Nehi from doing something monstrous to my people. How are we going to get back to the surface to stop them?”

  Molock turned to face them, his face worried. “You are right. Of course. I had hoped to check our maps, the intelligence we had gathered here…” he looked around at the wreckage. “…It seems we had a wasted journey.”

  “Not quite,” said Solomon.

  Everyone turned to face the Hyperborean. His face split into a huge grin, revealing blackened, serrated teeth. “I followed our attackers. Discreetly of course. But follow them I did. Right back to their rather large and heavily defended base, which, I might add, we have absolutely no chance of breaking into. To think otherwise, I say now with a seriousness of the heart, would be insane and death-wishy.”

  “But insane and death-wishy things are what we do best,” said Tweed, rubbing his hands together. He could feel the old excitement growing. The excitement that drove away the doubts and the dark thoughts. “Isn't that right, Songbird?”

  Octavia said nothing.

  “Ha ha,” Tweed answered for her. “That's right.”

  And here they were, three days later, lying in the freezing snow atop the crest of a hill. Below them sprawled a huge, heavily-guarded compound, sheltering beneath a mountain range that soared up into the obscuring clouds. The wind howled around them, swirling the snow around in blinding gusts.

  Tweed, who was lying just to Octavia's right, said something.

  Octavia pulled back the hood from the thick jacket Solomon had given her. “What?”

  Tweed shifted the scarf away from his mouth. “I said it's rather cold, isn't it?”

  Octavia favored him with a bit of a glare. He had that look. The one where he was enjoying himself entirely too much for it to be appropriate.

  She leaned in close to his ear. “You do realize this is suicide, don't you?”

  “Have you got a better idea?” he shouted back.

  Octavia clamped her mouth shut, frustrated. The problem was, she didn't. According to Solomon, hidden inside this base was the passage Nehi and Sekhem used to travel to the surface. It was their only route home. And Nehi already had a good five or six days lead on them. She had probably met up with Sekhem already. For all they know, they could have already carried out their nefarious plan, whatever it actually was.

  But that didn't mean they should stop. No. They had to go on. They had to at least try. There might still be a chance to stop them.

  She turned her attention to the walled compound below. The central structure was another of those stepped pyramids, but this one had walkways and bridges branching off from each level, linking the pyramid to other buildings behind the compound walls.

  The wind died down slightly and Molock leaned in to them. “I don't want anyone killed,” he said.

  Octavia, Tweed, and Elizabeth all turned to face the Hyperborean. He shrugged and looked slightly sheepish. “These people are still my subjects. They follow Sekhem and Nehi because they are brought up to obey authority. They are simply doing as they are told. Our weapons all have lower strength settings. We can render them unconscious. The end result is the same. Please?”

  “I for one am quite happy not killing anyone today,” said her mother. “I'm not sure I would like that on my conscience.”

  “Fine with me,” said Tweed absently, still staring down into the compound. He narrowed his eyes and Octavia followed his gaze. A squad of armed Hyperboreans was patrolling the snow-covered ground in front of the gate.

  “Have you told Solomon about your no-kill policy?” asked Tweed.

  “I have.”

  “Was he happy?”

  “He wasn't.”

  “Didn't think so.” Tweed sighed. “Look, I don't mean to cast aspersions on your friends, but are you sure he can do this? He seems a little…unpredictable.”

  Octavia attempted to stifle a snort of laughter at the irony implicit in that statement. She was only half-successful. Tweed carefully ignored her.

  “It's just…this plan needs perfect timing.”

  “Do not worry. Solomon might appear a bit on the eh…rough and ready side, but there's no better pilot in the land. He'll do his job.”

  “Listen,” said Octavia abruptly.

  Everyone froze. Off to their left was a pass through the foothills. It led back to a road that cut through the featureless, snow-covered tundra they'd had to cross. Now that the wind had dropped, Octavia could hear a low whine coming from that direction.

  “Here we go,” said Molock.

  They shuffled backward until the rise hid them from view, then they ran diagonally across the hills until they arrived at the tree line they had already picked out as a good place to hide. They hunkered down behind the trees, watching the pass below.

  The skiffs came into view a few minutes later. Three large, flat-bottomed vehicles that skimmed slowly above the ground, their beds loaded with supply crates. Solomon had been keeping an eye on the compound, noting their times and routines. He was very contemptuous of them. Overconfident, he said. Arrogant. Never assuming an attack would come. He then launched into a five-minute rant about what he was going to do to the traitors when all this was over.

  Octavia almost pitied them.

  When the three skiffs were about fifty meters off, Solomon's ship, which he had proudly told them all was called The Boisterous Lady, heaved into view, shooting up past the foothills on the opp
osite side of the pass and dropping into the road with a speed that, frankly, surprised her. She'd been riding on the ship for the last few days, but she had never seen it maneuver as well as it did now.

  The Boisterous Lady came up fast behind the skiffs. One of the guards casually glanced over his shoulder, turned back to the front, then did a double take and whirled around, shouting in alarm.

  The Boisterous Lady fired her guns, huge beams of white light that smacked into the ground beneath the last skiff. The explosion launched the skiff into the air, flipping it over in a somersault. Crates and boxes flew in every direction, smashing to pieces against the walls of the pass. The skiff did two full flips before landing right side up again, thudding hard into the ground. Fragments of wood and splattered food rained down around it.

  The two drivers, who were lucky to be strapped in, quickly patted themselves down for injuries. Then they remembered The Boisterous Lady. The driver looked over his shoulder, squealed, then frantically smacked at the controls until the skiff took off again, struggling to catch up with the others.

  Solomon picked up speed, sailing over the top of the convoy, casting a bulbous shadow across the road. Octavia heard a high-pitched whining, and then the guns fired again, the white light hitting the wall of the pass. Huge rocks exploded across the road, forcing the lead skiff to stop abruptly. The others followed suit. The drivers pulled out rifles and handguns, ducking for cover and firing up at The Boisterous Lady.

  Thin beams of orange light pummeled into Solomon's ship, but she shrugged them off as if they were flea bites. Then Solomon's voice roared through the hidden speakers, “Why you no fight back, puny ones? Why are you just sitting there—oh, you are fighting back? Apologies. I didn't realize.”

  The white light around his front most gun built into an ever-growing circle, then burst toward the ground. Earth and rocks exploded into the air, coming down on the heads of the cowering drivers.

  “Come on,” said Molock.

  While the drivers were occupied, they slid down the bank and headed toward the rear skiff, clambering on board. Octavia and Tweed grabbed the flapping leather cover that had been used to cover the crates and dragged it back into place, using it to shield them from view.

  Musty darkness enveloped them. Octavia listened as the drivers shouted to each other, firing their guns at The Boisterous Lady.

  There was more shouting, this time sounding a bit happier. That meant they were into phase two and Solomon had veered away. Which also meant that the compound had seen the attack and was responding.

  Sure enough, Octavia heard craft zipping past their position. Then the sounds of running feet. The skiff lifted clumsily off the ground and lurched forward. The drivers babbled to each other in their own language as they headed straight for the compound.

  The heavy thrumming of The Boisterous Lady flashed by overhead, followed by his pursuers. Solomon would be hovering high above the compound now, firing randomly at the structures below him. This was tricky, because the Hyperboreans were sure to have heavy weapons in the compound, but the plan was for the gate guards to wave the skiffs through the gates without stopping to inspect them.

  The skiff picked up speed, bouncing and jouncing over uneven ground. It veered suddenly to the left, sending them all rolling against one another. They shifted abruptly to the right, there was a burst of speed, and the light that had been filtering in through gaps in the covering suddenly went dark. Running feet faded into the distance.

  Silence.

  “Think it's safe?” whispered Octavia after a while.

  “Only one way to find out,” said her mother. She sat up and threw the cover back. She waited a moment, then poked her head back under. “It's safe.”

  Octavia stood up, pushing the covering away. “That was needlessly risky, Mother,” she said angrily. “You could have done that without exposing yourself so much.”

  Elizabeth looked at her in surprise, but Octavia didn't change her expression. She had only just found her mother. She didn't want to lose her again.

  “Sorry, love,” said Elizabeth. “Won't happen again.”

  Octavia nodded. Tweed leaped out of the skiff and rubbed his hands together gleefully. “Who'd've thought? It actually worked.”

  Octavia looked around. They were in a long warehouse, a storage facility by the looks of it. Huge crates were stacked neatly against the walls, barrels and drums piled up to the ceiling. More skiffs were parked in neat rows that receded into the distance.

  There was an explosion from outside, followed by panicked shouting. Another explosion, this one close by. Smoke billowed past the doors.

  “He does know we're in here, doesn't he?” said Octavia.

  “He will be attempting to generate cover for us,” said Molock. “Trust me, he knows what he is doing. Despite a rather…unconventional way of looking at things.”

  “I like him,” said Tweed, checking his gun.

  “You would,” said Octavia. “You're both borderline sociopaths.”

  “Octavia!” said her mother, shocked.

  “What? It's not an insult. Is it?” she said to Tweed.

  He shrugged. “Not really. Pretty accurate, actually. Although I hasten to add, I am not the problem. Everyone else is.”

  Octavia raised her eyebrows at her mother. You see?

  Tweed waved his gun in Molock's face, causing the Hyperborean to duck away. “Sorry. How do you change the strength on this thing?”

  Molock twisted the circular fins around the barrel of the gun. “There you go. Enough to knock them out, but no more than that.”

  “We should get going,” said Elizabeth. “No telling how long Solomon will be able to distract them.”

  The others checked their weapons, then they moved through the dim interior to the wide sliding doors. Octavia peered around the corner.

  It was chaos. Hyperboreans were running in every direction, most of them trying to get under cover while beams of furious white heat rained down on them from above, sending explosions of dirt and billows of smoke around the area.

  The Boisterous Lady hovered about thirty feet up, and Solomon's voice boomed around the compound, “Come on, puny lizards. This is all you have for Solomon? I am bored. I crave challenge. Bring me your best fighter. I will battle hand to hand. I will push him to the ground and make him cry for his brood-mother.”

  “He's enjoying himself, isn't he?” said Tweed.

  Molock grimaced apologetically. “Yes, the enforced hiding has not agreed with him. Solomon is a man of action.”

  Another burst of energy erupted from the ship, hitting a two-story structure off to their left. The building exploded, huge fireballs curling up into the sky. Octavia felt the heat against her face even from this distance.

  “Let's go,” said her mother, and they all slipped from the hangar. Her mum first, Octavia next, Molock third, and Tweed watching the rear. They moved around the edges of the compound, using the thick, cloying smoke as cover, ducking behind walls and vehicles whenever someone ran past.

  They headed for the huge pyramid. It was relatively uncrowded there. Solomon was keeping everyone's attention focused on the walls and gate. They crossed a cleared area in front of the structure and headed into a long narrow passage that led to the door.

  When they were halfway along the passage, the door slid open. Five Hyperboreans sprinted out, weapons in hand. Octavia's mother dropped immediately to one knee and fired. Octavia copied her. Orange electricity soared along the dark corridor. The Hyperboreans stumbled to a halt but they barely had time to register their presence before they were wreathed in lightning.

  One of them escaped the first volley and returned fire. Octavia was surprised to see he was using a normal pistol, one they must have brought to Hyperborea from their world. A bullet smacked into the wall next to Octavia's head, chips of stone stinging her cheek.

  Tweed leaped over her head. He landed in a crouch and fired his own gun. A bolt sizzled along the passage and hit the Hyp
erborean in the chest. He flew back through the air, hitting the wall with a grunt of pain and sliding to the ground.

  Tweed looked at her, his eyes troubled, then he turned and ran toward the entrance before any more Hyperboreans could catch them by surprise.

  Her mother leaned in and whispered in her ear. “Your knight in shining armor.”

  Octavia blushed and got to her feet. “That would be fine if I needed a knight in shining armor. Which I don't. Because I'm perfectly capable of protecting myself.”

  “Of course you are. Still, it's nice knowing there's someone out there to watch your back. Someone you can depend on. Doesn't hurt he's quite scrummy.”

  “Mother!” exclaimed Octavia. “Behave yourself.”

  They joined Tweed, who was now standing by the open door. There was a long passageway beyond, with doors opening to either side. At the far end was an arch through which she could see lots of lights. But their shape and brightness seemed to indicate the lights were far away. Noises echoed toward them, bangs and scrapes, distant shouting.

  They entered the pyramid and sprinted along the corridor. The archway at the end opened onto a balcony that overlooked the huge central space of the pyramid.

  “Over there,” said Tweed.

  Octavia followed his gaze. In the opposite wall of the pyramid was a huge tunnel that sloped down into the ground.

  “That will be the passage to your world,” said Molock. “It will drop below the mountains, then climb up through the inside. Easier to keep it hidden.”

  Octavia nodded and studied their surroundings. Right now, they were about fifty feet above ground level. There was a ramp to their left that circled the pyramid wall, and a bank of five caged elevators to their right. They couldn't use the ramp. They would be spotted by the Hyperboreans below. Even the elevators were risky, but they didn't really have any other options.

  They hurried to the closest elevator and crowded inside. Molock closed the cage and pulled the lever down. The elevator lurched and started to drop.