Kree grabbed a ring of keys hanging from a wooden beam. He crossed behind Jake’s back. “Do not move,” he said, punctuating his order with a poke of his knife in Jake’s shoulder.
Jake heard metal scrape metal—then the cuffs fell off and clattered to the floor. Kree stepped back to the front as Jake brought his arms around and rubbed his wrists.
“The Key …” Kree said. “Now!”
Jake reached behind his back and fished into the seat of his pants. He found what he was looking for, pulled it free, and held it out toward Kree. It was Kady’s cell phone. He had to trust that Kree did not know what the Key of Time looked like. The pocket watch remained tucked beneath his undershirt, resting over his heart where it belonged. He would never give it up.
“Is this the Key of Time?” Kree asked, turning the phone around in his fingers. The witch drifted closer, looking over the other’s shoulder.
“See for yourself,” Jake said, sidestepping the question. He pantomimed how to flip open the phone.
Kree followed his directions. As the home screen blinked to life, displaying again Kady’s cheerleading squad, Kree clutched his throat in shock. “What strange alchemy is this?”
If you only knew …
“And this is the Key?” Kree asked again.
Jake had no choice but to lie. “Yes. Yes, it is.”
The slug ignited on his cheek, and Jake kept his face stiff, expecting the burn this time. A moment ago he had screamed, but he had overplayed it, yelling extra loud on purpose, making it look as if he had no tolerance for pain. As the slug continued to sear his cheek, tears welled and rolled from the corners of his eyes.
Let them think I’m crying because I gave up the Key.
Kree didn’t bother even looking over, mesmerized by the glowing screen of the phone. He had fully fallen for the deception, but Heka turned her cloaked face toward Jake, plainly wary. She moved closer, drifting as if afloat.
Before she could reach him, the door to the dungeon banged open. All eyes turned in that direction. A trio of black-robed figures rushed inside, followed by Dogo, looking sheepish and running a palm over his bald head.
“They wouldn’t stop,” the dungeon master said.
The head of the trio came forward and dropped to a knee. They were all clearly members of the Blood of Ka. “Master Kree, I have word from the pharaoh’s bedchamber. He wakes faster than we expected. I think the two princesses suspect something is amiss. Especially that nuisance, Nefertiti.”
Kree shoved the cell phone into his robe. “I will go and speak with them. Calm those waters before suspicion ruins our plans. You and the others prepare more of the elixir. It is time we sent Pharaoh Neferhotep back to sleep. This time forever.”
He swept toward the door, trailed by the others. As Kree passed the dungeon master, he pointed an arm at Jake.
“Kill them. All of them. Slowly.”
Dogo nodded, relieved. He rubbed his palms together as the party cleared out of the chamber. Jake didn’t see the witch leave, but she was also gone.
The dungeon master crossed to the table, put his fists on his hips, and studied his spread of bone-breaking tools. Jake shifted his arms farther behind his back, hoping that Dogo hadn’t noticed that Kree had freed his hands earlier. He had one shot.
Dogo turned around with a wicked set of shears, like those used to trim hedges. The man’s gaze locked on Jake’s bare toes. He was choosing which one to cut off first.
To keep the ogre’s attention up there rather than on the shackles on the floor, Jake wiggled his toes. Dogo smiled, exposing a handful of missing teeth.
He lumbered forward, a glob of drool hanging from his lower lip.
Once his target was close enough, Jake swung both arms wide and slammed his cupped palms against the man’s ears. It was a Tae Kwon Do attack he’d learned, devastating enough to drop a grown man to his knees.
Or a grown ogre.
As Dogo fell forward, Jake moved fast. He jackknifed at the hip and clipped Dogo’s jaw with the crown of his head. It felt as if he smashed his skull against a boulder. Jake’s ears rang, but it was a thousand times worse for the dungeon master. Dogo’s head snapped back in a wicked whiplash, rolling his eyes back, too.
The big man crashed into a dead sprawl across the floor.
Jake swung back and forth from his ankles, keeping an eye on Dogo. The man stayed down. But for how long?
“Jake!” his sister called. “Quit hanging around and get us out of here!”
“What do you think I’m trying to do?”
Again that maniacal laughter rose from one of the cells. More faces appeared in the other windows. They stared at his efforts, hope shining in their faces.
Jake used his body weight to swing back and forth, higher and higher. The shackles cut into the skin of his ankles. Blood ran hotly down his legs, but he continued to swing. He reached an arm out toward the ring of keys, which hung again on the crossbeam in front of him. His fingertips strained, but the keys were still out of reach. He had to roll higher up.
But even then, could he reach them?
He wasn’t sure.
Back and forth … back and forth …
Blood filled his head, setting it to pounding. His vision darkened at the edges. He knew he was close to passing out. He reached out again. His middle finger touched one of the iron keys, setting it swinging; but he came to a hopeless realization. No matter how far he swung, he’d never reach that ring.
He let his body go slack, giving up.
Dizzy from the effort, he flashed into the past, to a moment he thought he’d forgotten. He was riding a carousel with his mother. They were at an old amusement park on the coast of Maine where the operators still hung brass rings for the carousel riders to try to grab. He remembered straining to snatch one as his wooden horse rode up and down. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get one. He was too small.
He again heard his mother’s laughter as she rode behind him.
Jakey, you can do it! Don’t give up!
With that encouragement, he stood in his stirrups on the next pass. He jumped for the ring, managed to hook it, and fell back into his saddle with the prize.
But that was then …
Jakey, you can do it!
His mother’s words echoed in his dazed brain.
I can’t, Mom. I can’t.
“Jake!” The shout was louder than before, but not the least bit encouraging, only threatening.
His head cleared enough to recognize his sister’s voice. “Kady …?”
“Why did you stop, lamebrain? You almost had it.”
“I can’t. My arms aren’t long enough.”
She sighed. “C’mon! You can do it!”
At that moment, her voice sounded so much like their mother’s. Jake closed his eyes, holding back tears.
“For you, Mom,” he whispered, and began to swing again.
His friends crowded at the window, fighting to watch.
Marika called to him, “Just a little farther!”
Pindor was not as optimistic. “If you fail, we can always join the Blood of Ka! As they say among my people, when in Rome …”
Bach’uuk shoved Pindor out of the way. He used his turn at the window to worm an arm out and wave, urging Jake on.
With his friends’ encouragement, Jake used all his weight and strength to propel himself even higher. He reached out for the ring, straining his shoulder. Still it was no good. He touched the longest key with a fingertip, but he couldn’t grab it. His arms simply weren’t long enough.
Pindor groaned, expressing what Jake felt. There was nothing he could do. The hopeful faces of the other prisoners also sank away from their windows, equally defeated.
He had failed them all.
Still, his mother’s words echoed to him.
Jakey, you can do it! Don’t give up!
Kady offered her own final words of encouragement: “Do something! You’re supposed to be the smart one!”
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Smart or not, there was nothing he could do. No matter how determined, no one could break the laws of physics. The science could not be defied.
As he swung, the word science stuck in his head. Why was that? Again Bach’uuk waved to him. His Ur friend’s wristband glinted in the firelight. Then Jake knew the answer.
Of course!
Bach’uuk hadn’t been urging him to swing. He had been offering a solution. If Jake hadn’t been hanging upside down with a fat slug still stuck on his face, he might have thought of it himself.
Jake began to swing more earnestly, cranking hard, ignoring his throbbing head and burning ankles. The key ring appeared ahead. He stretched again for it; but this time he used his other arm, the one with the wristband given to him by the Ur Elder, a band made of magnetite.
As he reached the maximum arc of his swing, he thrust out his arm and bent his wrist toward the ring, still out of reach, but only by inches. The magnetic property of the band shivered and drew a few keys toward him, including the long key he had touched earlier. Jake snapped his fingers down and caught the extended key.
He whistled his relief and clamped tightly—then gravity again reclaimed his body. As he swung back away, the key ring slipped free of the hooked nail and came with him.
A cheer rose from his friends.
With a bit of effort, Jake bent up and finally found the key to unlock his ankle cuffs. He fell to the floor, catching himself with one arm and rolling to the side. He sat for a moment and rubbed circulation back into his legs.
Marika screamed from the cell, “Jake! Behind you!”
He flung himself around as Dogo leaped at him, spitting blood from his split lip. The ogre’s bulk flattened Jake to the ground, pinning him on his back. A flash of silver reflected off the dagger as it stabbed toward his eye.
16
CLOAKS AND DAGGERS
Jake blocked the plunging dagger with his forearm, crossing wrists with Dogo. The tip of the blade hovered over his face and sank slowly toward his open eye. The man was too strong for Jake to hold him back. Matching gazes with the dungeon master, he read the glow of victory in the other’s eyes.
Staring up, Jake spoke the only words that could save him.
“I love broccoli.”
It was a lie. Jake hated broccoli with a passion.
The witch’s slug, still stuck on his cheek, ignited with acidic fire. Jake’s free hand ripped the beast off his skin, burning his fingertips, and flicked it up into Dogo’s open eye. The dungeon master howled as the flaming slug latched on to his eyeball and brow. He rolled away, digging at his face in agony.
Jake scrambled up, grabbed a wooden mallet from the tool table, and clocked Dogo hard on the side of his head. The man fell, going limp. This time he’d not be waking up anytime soon.
But Jake wasn’t taking any chances. He hurried to the cell door and freed his friends. They rushed out. Marika caught him in a fierce hug. Pindor pounded him on the back. Bach’uuk took some limestone scraped from the walls and made a paste for Jake’s inflamed cheek. It immediately took the sting from his burns.
Kady just looked irritated. “You gave that guy my cell phone!”
“What did you want me to do? I couldn’t give him Dad’s watch. It’s our only hope of getting out of this desert.”
Kady frowned, still upset. As she and Bach’uuk used the remaining keys to free the other prisoners, Jake quickly shoved his feet into his socks and boots. His raw ankles kept him hobbling.
They all gathered at the door. Jake found a pile of their gear stacked there, including his backpack. Kady discovered her sword and happily retrieved it.
The other prisoners collected weapons from among the torture tools. They were men and women, young and old, even a pair of red-headed twins who looked a couple of years younger than Jake. Twelve in all.
Even the laughing maniac was set free from his isolated cell. He was a scarecrow of a man with a hooked nose and a gray beard that had grown so thick that it covered most of his face. His left arm ended in a soiled bandage. The hand was missing. His right knee was locked stiff, forcing him to swing his leg wide with each step. Madness still danced in his bright eyes, but he gave Jake a sly wink when no one was looking.
A middle-aged woman stood a few steps ahead, hugging the twins—clearly their mother. From the way her clothes hung on her, she was once portly. But no longer. Even her slave collar seemed too large.
“Thank you, Outlander,” she said. “But what you’ve done will put you in great danger. There will be no place in Ka-Tor, no place in all the lands of Deshret, where you will be safe. The Blood of Ka will never stop looking for you.”
Another man stepped forward. He was Egyptian and wore no collar. A bandage over his left eye marred his rugged features. From under it ran a jagged scar, poorly healed. Fire lit his words.
“There are those who will help you. Those who resist the Blood of Ka. We must get you to them. They will help keep you hidden.”
Pindor brightened. “Anywhere but here sounds good.”
“Follow me,” the man said. He cracked open the door, made sure the way was clear, and waved them all through. He glanced back to Jake before leading the way. “My name is Djer.”
As the woman headed out with her boys, she touched Jake’s shoulder. Her words were full of sorrow. “Djer is Kree’s cousin. He dared speak against the Blood of Ka. Protested the resurgence of the Blood Games.”
Shock made Jake look upon the man with new eyes. If this is how Kree treated his own family …
As a group, they spread into a thin, scared line and wound their way toward the surface. For the moment, the spiraling ramp was empty of guards.
“They must think no one could ever escape this place,” Pindor whispered.
A soft cackle came from behind them. “No one does. Once you go down, you never come up.”
Pindor’s eyes widened.
The madman clapped Pindor on the shoulder in a reassuring manner. “That is, unless they feed you to the teeth in the pit.”
Again that crazed laughter.
Pindor’s face paled.
The woman heard the exchange. “He speaks of the Blood Games.”
Jake moved closer. “What sort of games are they?”
A hiss rose from the front of the line, from Djer. They’d reached the top of the ramp. Sunlight glowed from the arched gate of the pyramid. The man waved an arm to get them to hurry forward.
As he joined Djer, Jake heard a great murmuring, accompanied by singing. A crowd was gathering in the square in front of the pyramid. It was a mix of all the people of Ka-Tor. Many held flowers. One name was repeated many times: Neferhotep.
Djer leaned back against the wall. “Word of the pharaoh’s wakening must have spread.” A brightness shone in his one eye. “The shadow fell over Deshret following his long slumber. But with his waking, the people again have hope.”
“What can we do?” the woman asked.
Djer pointed the mallet he’d taken from the dungeon toward the trio of guards. They were standing at the entrance, watching the square. It would be easy to catch them by surprise.
“Once the way is open, we run into the crowd, scatter among them, and get lost.” He turned to Jake. “At sunset, meet me at the Crooked Nail Inn near the western gate. I will bring trusted friends who will spirit you out of Ka-Tor and over to one of the distant villages, where you will be harder to find.”
Pindor was nodding vigorously. But Bach’uuk stood with his arms crossed, his face stern, matching Jake’s mood. Running would get them nowhere. In a land sealed by a storm, they’d eventually be recaptured.
Jake reached to his neck and tugged the gold watch from beneath his shirt. He used a thumbnail to crack open the case. Once again the second hand swept around and around.
Marika and Kady flanked him on either side.
“It’s working!” Kady said.
She reached for the watch, but Jake stepped away. He slowly turned in a circle.
The tiny hand whipped around wildly—but only when he faced in one direction. He tested it three times to be sure.
Marika faced the same direction. “That’s the way we have to go, isn’t it?”
The watch pointed toward the heart of the pyramid.
“Looks like we’re not leaving yet,” Jake said.
Pindor groaned. “Can’t we come back later? When it’s safer. Maybe when that king is fully awake or something.”
Marika poked him with a finger. “It’s not going to get any safer, Pin.”
Jake knew that to be true. He remembered overhearing Kree and his men. They had something to do with the pharaoh’s coma, and they meant to keep him sleeping forever to maintain their power.
Jake turned to Djer. “We have to stay, to search for something we need.”
“Then I will remain at your side.”
“No. You have to get the others out of here. And the commotion you raise will help us. It’ll keep eyes looking out there, rather than in here.”
Djer looked ready to argue, but he glanced to the woman with the two boys. He slowly nodded and held out his hand. “Be quick about your quest. But remember. Sunset at the Crooked Nail.”
Jake clasped his arm. “We’ll be there if we can.”
As Djer whispered final plans to the other two men, Jake retreated a few steps with his friends.
Marika had found a half-open door and peeked inside. She waved Jake over and pulled the door wider. “Look!”
The small room was dark. Jake spotted a few chairs and tables. A hunk of chewed bone and moldy bread rested on a platter. Must be a break room for the guards, he thought. As Jake stared, a flurry of beetles dive-bombed off the table and scurried into the deeper shadows.
He began to turn away, disgusted, but Marika drew him inside. She pointed to the back wall. A set of garments hung from hooks. She crossed over and fingered one.
“Cloaks. Like the guards are wearing.”
She pulled off one and shrugged into it. It was overly large, but it hid her almost entirely.
“Good going, Mari!”