Secrets of the Dragon Tomb (27 page)

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 move 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 metal 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.

A door banged open above me. Putty let herself out of the cab of the excavator and lowered herself hand over hand down the rungs on the side of the machine. She dropped to the sand. I hurried to help her up. She was grinning wildly.

“That was so much fun! Except it's very clumsy. Really, they could have a far better gear system. The controls are quite unresponsive.”

Papa frowned. “I wonder if we could use some kind of logarithmic feedback on the levers…”

“Later!” I shouted. “Putty. Take them to the tomb. Hurry.”

One of Sir Titus's men wound a clockwork Martian starblade and sent it whirring toward us. It ricocheted off the excavator. Putty herded our family to the dragon tomb. I backed away, step by step, until the first of Sir Titus's men reached the excavator, then I spun and sprinted for the tomb. Footsteps pounded after me.