The Eleventh Plague (30 page)

C
ORNELIUS
Q
UAINT COULDN’T
believe his eyes as he pelted his bulk through the dusty labyrinthine corridors towards the Hades Consortium’s prison cells.

Madame Destine walked slowly towards him, supporting Faroud. The Scarab winced in excruciating pain with each step, clutching at his tender ribs with his free hand.

‘You always did have an eye for a charity case, Madame,’ Quaint said.

He ran as fast as he could towards her. Destine braced for impact as the locomotive of a man thundered into her. He lifted her into his arms and swung her around in circles like a carousel. They needed no words, these two. It was enough that they were in each other’s arms once again.

Aksak Faroud cleared his throat, forcing apart their embrace.

‘Do not think me unfeeling…but can this wait? It is not exactly safe here!’

‘I can’t argue with that,’ said Quaint. ‘We’ve got about five minutes to get as far away from this place as we can.’ He slapped the map into his palm. ‘
This
is what we needed! The locations along the Nile where Nastasi’s men are going to
deploy the poison.
This
is what we need to put an end to this plot!’

‘You did it!’ gasped Faroud. ‘But I do not understand…you were done for…only death waited for us…how did you get hold of such a thing?’

‘I gave the Devil his due,’ Quaint said.

‘You are truly a marvel, Cornelius Quaint,’ grinned Faroud.

‘I’m more than that, my friend,’ grinned Quaint right back at him. ‘I’m bloody spectacular. So, how about you, Aksak? You look terrible.’

‘I have had better days, it is true.’

‘Can you walk unaided?’

‘Slowly…but yes, I think so,’ replied Faroud.

‘Good, then let’s be going. Madame, you’re with me!’ trumpeted Quaint, as he snatched Destine’s wrist and ran off down the tunnel, with a limping Faroud trailing behind.

Quaint was his usual self – thundering on until his bones snapped, until his muscles tore. But Aksak Faroud was not at all himself. The beating that he had suffered at the hands of his jailer had dislodged something inside him – a fact confirmed when he coughed a sticky wet clot of blood into the palm of his hand.

Retracing his steps, Quaint led Faroud and Destine through the deserted main audience chamber. They froze as they saw the headless body of Lady Jocasta, still sat in the same position at the table.

‘I warned her not to stick her neck out,’ said Quaint.

They continued through the chamber towards the main doors. Destine screamed as she stumbled over another lifeless corpse –
that of Godfrey Joyce. His stumps still wept the last of his body’s blood, and his two severed limbs lay on the floor like discarded cigar butts. He had suffered until his last breath if the contorted expression on his face was anything to go by.

Quaint grinned. ‘You know, Faroud, you said we couldn’t trust him, but deep down, I always knew Joyce was ar—’

‘Hush, Cornelius!’ reprimanded Destine, pushing her finger against his lips. ‘One glib comment is sufficient amusement; we have more important matters at hand!’

Quaint nodded like an admonished pupil. ‘Quite right, Madame, come on!’

With Faroud still bringing up the rear, they quickly reached the huge wooden beam that barred the two stone doors.

‘Faroud, help me with this!’ Quaint yelled.

Groaning madly as the pain scorched his guts, Faroud aided Quaint and they parted the massive doors that reached from floor to ceiling.

A thick curtain of dust dropped down before their eyes, and a gust of smoke evacuated the confined tunnel past them into the cavern. As it cleared, the sight before his eyes brought a lump to Cornelius Quaint’s throat. Just inside the tunnel, littering the ground everywhere, were the charred and scorched corpses of the brigade of Consortium guards. Huge chunks of rock from the stone ceiling were strewn amongst (and crushing) the bodies. Quaint looked down at them, remembering how they had come to lose their lives and his part in it.

‘You obviously came this way,’ said Destine.

Quaint clamped his eyes shut. He prayed that she could not
see the shame carved onto his face, but it was ever so difficult to hide anything from a woman who could sense his emotions as easily as if she shared half his heart.

‘Cornelius, listen!’ snapped Faroud, breaking the conjuror’s thoughts.

It was the unmistakable sound of many footsteps mobilising in their direction, emanating from deep within the adjoining tunnels.

Quaint checked his fob watch. ‘George was true to his word for once. The guards are on the move, people. We don’t have much time!’

They set off as fast as they could, stepping over corpses and rocks, following the scarred crack in the tunnel roof towards the exit.

However, as they rounded the final corner towards freedom, Quaint’s heart sank – the way out was completely barred by fallen rocks.

‘A trifle overzealous with the explosive perhaps?’ said Faroud sarcastically, as he brushed his hands over the rocks that blocked the entire tunnel. ‘Now what? We’re trapped!’

Reinforcing his statement, the heavy footsteps grew louder. The guards were catching up. Quaint and company were facing a dead end – in more ways than one.

A grinding, scraping sound came from the other side of the rocks behind them. Cracks in the boulders appeared as they shifted position and thin seams of bright white light appeared like incandescent veins.

Sobek’s unmistakable voice reverberated through the rocks: ‘Put your backs into it, Scarabs! I want these rocks cleared!’

‘Sobek?’ Faroud’s face lit up. ‘At last – we are free! We are safe.’

‘Don’t count your chickens, Aksak,’ said Quaint, cupping a hand to his ear.

Faroud heard the sounds of their pursuers growing ever louder too and wished that he had kept his mouth shut. ‘Sobek! It is me, Aksak!’ he shouted towards a thin crack in the rocks. ‘Hurry, we do not have much time!’

Destine tugged on Quaint’s robes. ‘Who
are
these men?’

‘The cavalry, Madame!’ Quaint replied. ‘And for once their timing is impeccable!’

At that moment, a contingent of Consortium guards burst onto the scene. Crammed into the confines of the catacombs, they halted twenty feet away from Quaint, Faroud and Destine, blocking the tunnel completely. Each one brandished a weapon, each face twisted into a malevolent sneer.

Quaint considered his situation and the outlook was bleak. Just then, the huge boulders came tumbling down from the barred exit and great spears of illumination breached into the tunnel, flooding everywhere in a blast of raw sunlight. Quaint and his band were lucky, their backs were turned to the rocks, but it was the brigade of soldiers, who had all been glaring with wide, enraged eyes, that bore the full brunt of the explosion of brightness.

They were blinded, but it would not last long.

Sobek’s face peered through the gap in the rocks. Spotting Quaint and Faroud, he beamed a relieved smile at them as he thrust his huge, fat arm through the hole.

‘Come!’ he boomed.

Quaint knew they had seconds to act before the guards would regain their sight.

He looked at Destine. ‘You first, Madame!’

As Quaint grabbed her corseted waist, Destine could tell that
there was no room for discussion. She looked up with uncertain eyes as Sobek’s hairy arms grabbed her wrists and lifted her up into the light.

Several of the Consortium guards’ sight had returned and they began to advance.

Quaint and Faroud had precious seconds to act.

‘You’re next!’ Quaint yelled, grasping the Aksak by his hand.

Faroud shook his head violently. ‘No, Cornelius, leave me! I can go no further.’ He coughed, spitting congealed blood into his hands, a dark, maroon red, almost black, dredged from the very depths of his stomach. He was bleeding internally, his lungs punctured by broken ribs. ‘I am done for, my friend…a gift from my jailer.’

‘Faroud, we’re getting out of here right now!’ Quaint yelled. ‘
Together!
Now hold on tight, I’m going to—’

‘No!’ snarled Faroud fiercely.

‘But we can
make
it!’ pleaded Quaint. ‘It’s right there! Just a stretch away!’

‘Leave me, I say!’ growled Faroud. ‘Someone…has to watch your back.’

Quaint he knew he was right. Faroud was in no condition to go anywhere and the guards were inches away. The conjuror reached into the folds of his commandeered robes and pulled out a stick of explosive.

‘I held one back…just in case,’ he said, pushing it into Faroud’s fingers. ‘Consider it a parting gift.’

‘Just what I always wanted,’ Faroud grinned. ‘Now go…whilst I still…have the strength to do any good.’

Quaint grasped Faroud firmly around the back of his neck and bent him towards him, touching the Scarab’s forehead to his own. ‘I’m sorry I got you into this mess.’

Faroud managed a weak grin. ‘For an Aksak…there are no easy choices, remember? Tell Sobek to take care of Rakmun…and make sure that my men make Nastasi pay.’

With a firm nod, Faroud gripped the explosive in his shaking hands and bit the fuse off with his teeth. Once lit, the explosives would explode practically instantly. Quaint tore a torch from the wall and offered it to the Scarab.

‘Aksak Faroud, I have been proud to call you my friend,’ he said.

‘As have I…Cornelius Quaint.’

With a last nod of respect, Quaint reached for Sobek’s grasp. Reaching solid ground, he fell to his knees as Destine rushed to support him.

‘Clear the entrance!’ he bellowed.

Sobek looked at the breach in the rocks. ‘But, the Aksak…?’

‘It’s too late, Sobek. Everyone to cover!’

The band of Scarabs scattered in every direction as a great explosion rocked the land. The deafening roar filled the ears of thieves, conjuror and fortune-teller alike. Ancient obelisks that had stood in Fantoma for thousands of years shook and toppled, crashing into each other, in turn striking others, pummelling the buildings at their feet. Thick walls of dust rose into the air as columns of ancient stone crumbled like chalk, collapsing onto the entrance to the lair of the Hades Consortium.

In a moment, all was still.

A fitting monument, thought Quaint, as he looked at the devastation around him. The area was cloaked in a wall of impenetrable dust. Surely all inside the sanctum sanctorum would have perished. If there was any justice in the world, not even Hell would take their souls.

‘I have been away from you too long, my sweet,’ Destine said
by the conjuror’s side, brushing flecks of masonry from his curls like a doting mother. ‘I’d forgotten how much mess you can make.’

‘How are you?’ the conjuror asked her.

‘Exhausted, my sweet. You?’

‘Absolutely worn out,’ Quaint replied. ‘Which is a shame.’

‘A shame, Cornelius. How so?’

‘Because this battle is only half won and getting out of there alive was the easy part!’ Quaint snapped.

A
SHORT TIME LATER
, with Madame Destine and Sobek and his adopted pack of Clan Scarabs riding at his side, Cornelius Quaint pulled his horse to a stop. He dismounted and removed the parchment map from the satchel at his waist, spreading it out flat on the ground. Using rocks to keep the edges from curling, he traced his finger down the line of the Nile’s path. The sun was already falling in the sky. Time was in short supply. Motioning for Sobek to join him, the two men became embroiled in a deep discussion, with much waving of hands, confident nodding and pointing towards the horizon.

Nearby, Madame Destine was growing impatient.

Now that their escape from the Hades Consortium base was behind them, her mind had free rein to wander. Her worry for Ahman had returned and increased, and a hungry pain crawled restlessly around her body. Seeing Quaint occupied with other concerns, she sat upon the sand in contemplation. The Scarabs were doing much the same and were scattered in tiny groups, all of them silent and mournful. Their leader was dead and each of them grieved in their own way. Destine glanced at their dark,
weathered faces, wondering how Cornelius had found himself in their company. But that hardly seemed important now; it was a tale for the long journey home to England – one of many, if she knew him. Destine strained her ears to hear Quaint’s discussion. She liked hearing him boss people around – the man had a natural talent for it.

‘We have nine entry points detailed here, Sobek,’ said Quaint to the bulky Scarab overshadowing the parchment map. ‘These are where Nastasi’s men will be depositing the poison. Now that he has complete control over all the nine clans, it’ll be a simple feat for him to mobilise everyone into position, and now…’ Quaint consulted his fob watch, ‘…we only have four hours to stop him!’ He snapped his watch shut to reinforce the urgency. ‘We’ll need to split up, head our separate ways, and with any luck we’ll reach the spots before Nastasi’s men do any harm!’

‘Some of these locations are a long way from here, Cornelius,’ offered Sobek.

‘Then we’d better pull our fingers out! Not one vial of poison can enter the Nile.’ He gripped the large Scarab’s shoulder tightly. ‘Understand? Not a single one!’

Sobek nodded, and his dark eyes fell to the ground.

‘Cornelius…at first, I thought the Aksak was wrong to aid you…to risk our clan’s stability for an outlander…but I then discovered that it was me that was wrong. Now I understand what Faroud saw in you. I only wish that I knew where you get such faith, my friend…for with this task ahead of us, I am in dire need of some!’

Quaint smiled. ‘Sobek, my friend, I have long been a believer that faith can be found wherever you seek it. If we are without faith in ourselves, what do we have left?’

A shadow fell on the two men and the map and they both looked up to see Madame Destine standing over them.

‘Cornelius? A word,
s’il vous plaît
?’

‘You want to do
what
?’ snapped Quaint.

‘He is my friend!’ snapped Destine in reply.

‘Just like Aloysius Bedford was a friend, you mean?’ stormed Quaint. ‘What you’ve just told me is unbelievable! Godfrey Joyce was right! About Aloysius’s diary, about you being in Egypt twenty years ago mixed up in that nasty business in Umkaza – and I knew nothing about any of it!’

‘Do not blame me, my sweet. Neither did I.’

‘You know how I despise coincidence, Madame, but the fact that our journeys mirrored each other…it’s fantastic!’ Quaint exclaimed. ‘We were both following the exact same path…but from different sides! It’s just too ridiculously coincidental to be believed!’

‘I happen to think that it is all very Quaint, my sweet,’ said Destine. ‘Now, you shall misdirect my intentions no longer. Ahman is my friend, as Aloysius was, and I owe him just as much. He needs me. When we were attacked he was seriously wounded, but he is not dead!’

‘Oh, and how can you be so sure?’

‘My gifts have foreseen that he lives.’

Quaint scowled. ‘They’re back?’

‘The ghosts of the past opened my eyes, my sweet.’

‘That’s marvellous news, Madame. Hang on – did you just say “Ahman”?’ asked Quaint, with a determined point of his finger. Destine nodded. ‘Your friend…you say he was hurt near
Umkaza
? A short little chap about so high?’ Quaint held his hand halfway up his chest. ‘Round face and tiny spectacles?’

‘
Oui? Pourquoi…?
’ asked Destine, a subtle smile on her lips.

‘I know where he is!’ exclaimed Quaint. ‘We came across him lying in a ditch by the side of the road just yesterday!’

Destine’s smile grew even wider, her blue eyes even brighter.

‘You mean to say that
he
is your friend Ahman? So the woman that he was searching for…that was you?’ asked Quaint. ‘My word, Destine, the coincidences in this caper just keep stacking up!’

‘I trust you are a believer now, my sweet,’ said Destine.

Quaint rubbed his jaw. ‘I didn’t say
that.
’

‘And so…? What of Ahman? Is he all right?’

‘Well…he was injured quite severely. A deep wound to his shoulder. We sent him back to Bara Mephista for medical treatment in the care of a woman from our crew. She promised to make sure his wound was tended to.’

Destine grabbed at his shirt. ‘
Oui
?
Est-ce que c’est vrai
?’

‘Madame, I’m sure that he’s been well cared for.’

‘I must go to him! I must see for myself,’ insisted Destine.

‘Absolutely not!’ Quaint spat. ‘Nastasi has taken over Bara Mephista’s camp for himself. That place is going to be swarming with Scarabs!’

‘Nastasi? You mean Godfrey Joyce’s accomplice?’ Destine said.

Quaint took a step back. ‘Stop that!’

‘Stop what?’

‘Stop knowing as much about this as I do!’ said Quaint. ‘If I can’t show off now and again, what’s the world coming to? Bara Mephista isn’t on the cards, Destine. It’s too dangerous!’

‘Even more reason why I must
go
there!’ Destine snapped. ‘I shall travel there on my own if need be, but I must make sure he is safe.’

‘Madame, you will do no such thing! Have you not heard a word I just said?’

‘You do not understand, Cornelius! You may have walked your own path these past few days, but I have also walked mine. If not for Ahman I would not have been able to set forth on my journey. He held my head up and kept me travelling in the right direction. I will
not
abandon him when he needs me!’

Sobek interrupted: ‘Cornelius, if I may? I could not help but overhear…I remember seeing this man you mentioned, if only briefly. He was resting in the tavern. Our medical man Bephotsi was tending his wounds.’

‘And when Nastasi attacked did he know that Ahman was there?’ asked Quaint.

‘No, I do not think so,’ said Sobek emphatically. ‘He was too preoccupied with making his grand speech of conquest, and your friend was secreted within the rear of the tavern. Even if Nastasi had seen him, the old man’s presence would certainly not have concerned him. He had visions of victory dancing before his eyes; he was quite blind to detail.’

‘And Polly North? What of her?’

Sobek shook his head. ‘Who?’

‘The Professor! She was tending to Ahman. She was the one who brought him to the camp,’ said Quaint. ‘Surely you saw her at Bara Mephista.’

‘Sorry, Cornelius, no. The old man was alone.’

‘Well, Polly’s the resilient type, I’m sure she’s fine.’ Quaint rubbed his hands down his face and looked over at Destine’s rigid expression. His former governess could still teach him a thing or two about pig-headedness. ‘So…what do we do?’

‘I have a suggestion,’ Sobek said. ‘Let my men and me deal with the Nile and the poison. We still have enough of us to
complete the task. You return to Bara Mephista with your lady here. She is worried for her companion’s life. Would you not feel the same?’

‘I can’t go anywhere, Sobek. I have to see this through to the end,’ said Quaint.

‘You have done enough, my friend,’ said Sobek, as his imposing bulk towered a few inches above Quaint. ‘We are more grateful than you can possibly imagine for what you have done this day, Cornelius…but as our Aksak often spoke: we Clan Scarabs are shapers of our own destiny.’ Sobek reached down and picked up the map from the sand. ‘This is what we needed to defeat these devils…and it was
you
who gave it to us. For that, you will have our thanks for ever. Now it is time to care for your own.’ He gestured with his eyes towards Destine. ‘You have to heed the lady’s request. That is what you need to do now.’

‘But the battle is far from won!’ protested Quaint.

‘Cornelius…not all wars are won on the battlefield.’

‘But I can’t just—’

‘Yes…you
can
,’ insisted Sobek. ‘We shall make Faroud proud of us. We shall shed light upon the shadow of the Hades Consortium and dispel it from Egypt’s lands once and for all.’

Quaint shook Sobek’s hand firmly. ‘Looks to me like you just talked yourself into a job…Aksak,’ he said with a grin.

Sobek frowned, as a barrage of cheers erupted behind him. He turned to face his men, who had all risen to their feet. He raised his arms to meet their cheers.

Quaint pulled himself up into his horse’s saddle and looked at Destine, already mounted upon hers. ‘Well…you got your own way again.’

‘Was there ever any doubt?’ Destine replied with a triumphant smile.