Time Hunters and the Spear of Fate, The (19 page)

Thus if you’re my brother, and your
soul be true

Just let me see daylight, else the
damned shall find you …’

The instant the words left his
mouth, the corridor ahead brightened as if powered by a hidden electric light.
Becky jolted with shock. A short distance away, lining the floor like sentry
guards, were twenty oblong stone caskets, each standing over six feet tall.
They pitched long, ominous shadows onto the dusty floor. The caskets’ frontages
were decorated with men, painted in vivid colours, their eyeless sockets
bleeding, their mouths wide open, screaming with terror as if victim to an
indescribable torture.

‘What are they?’ Joe gasped.

‘I believe, Joe,’ Uncle Percy
replied uncomfortably, ‘they may be
sarcophagi
...’

‘You mean they’re coffins?’ Becky
choked.

‘They are
the twenty
…’ Edgar
squeaked with a mixture of shock and horror.

A scraping sound rent the air - it
was coming from the casket closest to them. Suddenly, bandaged fingers, twisted
and thin, curled around the casket’s lid. Slowly, it was forced open to reveal
a corpse, wrapped from feet to neck in long sweeps of cracked, bloodstained
linen, its head fully exposed, with shriveled, yellowing skin that was
stretched thin across bone like rice paper.

Layla screamed.

A second casket was pushed open …
then another … and another…

‘Mummies!’ Joe exclaimed.

Chapter 25

Mamma Mia

Becky was paralyzed with terror. She
watched dismayed as the mummies raised orichalcum swords into the half-light,
their blades glinting orange. Then, as one, they stepped jerkily from their
caskets, their eyeless sockets, black and cavernous, staring eerily ahead.

Fighting the urge to run, Becky
spluttered, ‘What do we do now?’

Joe raised his Joe-Bow and took aim.
‘Maybe they’re like zombies - one arrow, one brain, one less mummy.’ He sent an
arrow through the air. It thumped into the nearest mummy’s skull. The mummy
didn’t falter. Instead, it reached up and, in one clean movement, yanked the
arrow out. Then it turned chillingly towards Joe, as if somehow identifying its
attacker.

Joe gulped. ‘Okay,’ he said, much
less confidently than before. ‘Anyone else got a plan?’

Will withdrew his sword. ‘We cut
them to bits.’

Dissatisfied with this answer, Becky
looked at Uncle Percy, her voice panic-stricken. ‘You got a better idea?’

‘What was the riddle about?’ Uncle
Percy replied urgently. ‘I didn’t quite hear it.’

The mummies took another step
forward.

‘Summat to do with sharks,’ Joe
replied quickly.

Never shifting his gaze from the
mummies, Uncle Percy slipped his hand into his cloak pocket. ‘What about them?’

‘Them being cold. Oh, and Sphinxes
being warm.’

The mummies advanced another step.

‘And what else?’

‘It wants you to be its brother?’

‘Anything else?’

Joe was about to answer, when the
nearest mummy lifted its sword high. With a bloodcurdling hiss, it charged,
powering towards them with unnatural speed.

Becky’s insides tumbled. Then she
saw Uncle Percy draw something from his pocket – there was a thunderous
BANG
- a dazzling flash of blue. Her eyes widened.
Uncle Percy was holding a
gun!
She glanced back at the mummy - the strangest thing had happened: it
had frozen, mid-run, like an ice sculpture. Seconds passed, everyone staring at
the mummy with disbelief. Then, like waking from a deep sleep, the mummy came
out of its frozen state. Momentarily confused, it hissed wildly and was about
to continue its assault when –

Uncle Percy shot it again.

Once more, it fell stock-still.

Becky gasped.

Then the other mummies advanced as
one, a step at a time, like a lethal wall, swords aimed forward. Uncle Percy
fired twice – two more frozen mummies.

A bone-chilling hiss rent the air.
The remaining mummies charged.

Layla screamed again.

Without hesitation, Will raced into
the onslaught. Mummies surrounded him on all sides, slashing at him, baying for
blood. But he was lightning fast. He blocked a strike, parried another. With a
clean swing, he sliced off a mummy’s hand, sending its sword rattling across
the floor.

‘William!’ Edgar yelled, dashing
after him into the fray. He plucked up two mummies like they were bails of hay
and hurled them powerfully against the wall.

All the while, Uncle Percy kept
firing. Each shot hitting its target. Before he knew what was going on,
however, Joe had pulled his sword free from its scabbard. ‘No, Joe!’ he panted.

‘You can’t use a sword, you donk!’
Becky shouted at him.

‘Watch me learn,’ Joe replied. With
a fearless yell, he rushed into the fight.

‘Uncle Percy, they’ll be killed,’
Becky shrieked.

Grim-faced, determined to protect
Joe at all costs, Uncle Percy fired at the two mummies closest to Joe, striking
them both full on. Then he glanced back at the Minotaur statue, his mind
racing. ‘Cold shark, warm sphinx, brother.’ Realization lit his face. ‘Edgar …
get back here,’ he shouted. ‘We need your blood…’

In that instant, Becky knew he’d
solved the riddle.
Blood.

Edgar, however, couldn’t hear him
over the clatter of swords.

Becky swallowed a great lungful of
air. ‘EDGARRRRRR!’ she screamed at the top of her voice. ‘GET YOUR BACKSIDE
HERE NOWWWW!’

Edgar heard that. Barrelling a mummy
out of his path, he sprinted back, panting madly. ‘What is it, child?’

Becky produced Orff’s knife. ‘We
need your blood. It’s the answer to the riddle.’

Edgar scrutinized the tiny knife.
‘The metal would not break my skin.’

Looking round, Becky glimpsed the
discarded sword. Without stopping to think, she sped off.

Uncle Percy looked horrified.
‘Becky?’ he yelled. ‘What’re you doing?’

Becky didn’t hear him. She dodged
one mummy, then another, before dropping to her knees beside the sword. Her
stomach turned when she saw the mummy’s severed hand still gripped the hilt,
its fingers wriggling like rotting worms. From behind, she heard a sickening
snarl. In the blade’s reflection, she saw a mummy raise its sword.
BANG.
The mummy froze. Scooping up the sword, she scrambled to her feet and raced
back to Edgar.

‘To the statue,’ Becky told him, the
sound of the battle ringing in her ears. She and Edgar ran over. Standing at
the basin, she thrust the sword into Edgar’s hands. ‘I’m sorry but you’ll have to
cut yourself.’

Edgar held out his hand and, without
drawing breath, sunk the blade into his palm, slicing deep into flesh. Blood
leaked out, thick drops landing in the basin, staining the orange surface a
deep crimson.

At that moment, everything changed.
The mummies ceased their assault, their swords falling to their sides. Then,
one by one, they turned slowly and, like automatons, shuffled back to their
caskets, returning inside and closing the lids. As the final lid thumped shut,
a disbelieving silence swept the chamber.

Breathless, Will and Joe returned to
the group. No one knew quite what to say. Eventually, it was Butterby who
spoke, ‘Well done everyone. Marvellous. I’m sorry I wasn’t much use, but you’re
quite the little outfit, aren’t you?’

Becky didn’t hear him. Instead, she
flung her arms around a surprised Joe. Her relief at his wellbeing, however,
soon morphed into anger. ‘Are you mental?’ she barked at him. ‘You’ve never
even used a sword before!’

‘I have on Assassin’s Creed,’ Joe
replied with a smirk.

‘Oh, shut up.’

Uncle Percy extended his hand, a
disapproving look on his face. ‘Sword, please …’ Joe passed it over. ‘What did
I tell you about doing something stupid like that?’

‘Sorry,’ Joe replied, head down.

Will, on the other hand, gave him a
proud smile. ‘You are truly your father’s son,’ he said. ‘When we return to
Bowen Hall I shall instruct you in the true art of swordplay. Although my
instincts tell me you’ll require little tutelage.’

Joe’s face lit up. ‘Ta, Will.’

Becky looked at Uncle Percy’s gun.
‘And what kind of gun is that?’

‘I call it a
Temporevolver
.’

Butterby looked impressed. ‘May I
take a look at it?’

Uncle Percy passed it over. Up
close, it looked like a very old pistol, the kind you might see in a western,
with an octagonal forged barrel and a pearl handled grip, but there was one
notable difference: a small black box with a tiny electric light embedded
within was fixed just above the cylinder.

Enthralled, Butterby turned it in
his fingers like a child with a new toy. ‘Very impressive. And no bullets?’

‘Not as such,’ Uncle Percy replied.
‘Exclocidiant pellets.’

‘Really? So it’s like a standard
Temporaliser?’

Becky recalled the Temporaliser
Uncle Percy had used on her mother the previous month.

‘In essence, yes,’ Uncle Percy
replied. ‘Of course I had to design a more concentrated method of maintaining
its molecular structure until the point of impact, hence, the construction of a
pellet. But the principles are the same.’

‘Fascinating,’ Butterby replied.
‘And only you could invent a pistol that was completely harmless.’

‘Well, I’m never going to invent a
killing machine, that’s for sure.’

‘It’s well cool,’ Joe said.

‘Thank you, Joe. I certainly hope
it’ll be something Tracker division may be interested in looking at.’

It was then Becky noticed Edgar was
not with them. He had moved to the far side of the caskets, his huge bulk
filling what appeared to be a doorframe, the other side of which was bright
light. She nudged Uncle Percy, who looked over, took a nervous breath and said,
‘Shall we get out of here?’

Becky moved over to a trembling
Layla, whose gaze never left the sarcophagi. ‘Come on,’ she said, trying to
sound as upbeat as she could. ‘You’re safe now.’ She took Layla’s hand and
together they approached the doorway, everyone following close behind. Watching
Edgar disappear into the space beyond, she trailed him through.

The sight that greeted her was
nothing less than astonishing.

They were in a sprawling cavern, its
roof hidden by towering trees; flowers were everywhere, their petals shining
brightly in a symphony of colour.

‘I don’t get it?’ Joe breathed.
‘This is impossible.’

‘The Spear makes the impossible
possible,’ Edgar replied.

Butterby looked on the verge of
fainting. ‘The Spear created all this?’

‘The Spear is life,’ Edgar replied
simply. ‘That is its gift, its power. It gives life where it should not exist.’
His voice lowered with reverence. ‘We are in its presence now...’ He disappeared
into the forest.

Becky felt like she was in a dream.
She inhaled deeply. The air tasted like honey on her lips. They had only
advanced a hundred metres or so when Edgar came to a sudden halt. Looking
ahead, she saw why. Through overhanging branches, four steps led up to a
magnificent structure constructed entirely of white marble, with an external
colonnade of tall pillars, inscribed from top to bottom in Atlantean script,
which supported a sloping truss roof.

‘The Temple of Poseidon!’ Butterby exclaimed,
voice aquiver. ‘It exists.’

Becky’s mouth tumbled open. She
heard Joe whistle with astonishment. Unsteady on her feet, she trailed Edgar up
the steps, when a long, wide hall stretched before them, at the far end of
which, shimmering like a sun, was a gigantic golden statue of Poseidon sitting
atop a chariot pulled by six winged horses.

‘Oh – my – Lord,’ Uncle Percy
panted.

Thrilled beyond words, Becky
surveyed the statue. Then her spine turned to jelly. Poseidon’s outstretched
left hand was curled around a spear, its lozenge-shaped tip glowing as bright
as any star; a silvery haze surrounded the spearhead, blurring the air around
it like a mirage.

Not one of them was in any doubt:
The
Spear of Fate.

All round, Becky heard loud gasps of
wonder. As the last gasp faded, stillness filtered through the hall. She
glanced over at Butterby, who wore a jubilant expression. She would have felt
exactly the same way if she hadn’t noticed Uncle Percy draw his Temporevolver,
his eyes alert and vigilant.

‘Be on your guard everyone.’ His
voice dropped to a mutter. ‘This is usually the point where it goes very
wrong.’

With a soft
click
, Will and
Joe extended their Joe-Bows.

Becky felt a jolt of anxiety, when
she sensed movement to her right.

Butterby had stepped forward, an
oddly distant look on his face.

‘Hang on, Charles,’ Uncle Percy
urged. ‘Let’s just make sure everything is safe before we proceed.’

Butterby ignored him, his gaze set
immovably on the spear; trancelike, as if drawn by an unseen magnetic force, he
continued to walk.

Becky was confused. What was
Butterby doing?

‘Charles!’ Uncle Percy repeated,
more firmly this time. ‘Please… wait -’

At that moment, a low growl
resonated from behind the statue, sonorous and bloodcurdling, threatening to
shake the very columns themselves.

Becky’s blood turned to ice.

‘Oh, no,’ Uncle Percy breathed.
‘CHARLES. GET BACK HERE NOW!’ he yelled.

Butterby kept on walking, his pace
quickening.

In a blur, an enormous creature, as
big as a car, hurtled into their line of sight, its furred body patterned red
and black, its muscular front and back legs tipped with giant hooked claws.

‘A Sphinx!’ Edgar said with
disbelief.

‘Y-you said that Sphinxes were the
size of poodles,’ Joe spluttered.

‘This creature has been cursed,’
Edgar replied darkly. ‘This is Thoth’s doing.’

‘Who cares?’ Becky uttered. ‘MISTER
BUTTERBY!’ she screamed, but it was too late.

The Sphinx’s four yellow eyes locked
on Butterby, burning into him, venomous, spiteful. Before he could do anything,
it gave a hideous roar, gluey twines of saliva splashing the floor, and then
charged at him. With a powerful swing, its claws slashed at his face, striking
hard, sending him crashing across the floor. His body skidded to a lifeless
halt, face down, contorted and broken.