Jake Ransom and the Howling Sphinx

  Ammon scowled at Jake’s group as if they were to blame for the princess’s sour mood. He waved to their Egyptian guard. “Put the prisoners back in their shackles before we arrive.”

  Nefertiti disappeared down into the hold, and Ammon scurried to catch up with her.

  Marika stood with her hands on her hips. “After all we’ve done, they’re chaining us again. Nefertiti could have ordered us to be set free.”

  Jake agreed but understood. The five of them were strangers here, cursed by using the name Calypsos. Until they were questioned, Nefertiti was taking no chances.

  “She’s not really that bad,” Kady said, standing up for the princess. “Some girls back at school are way nastier than her. And did you see her with that spear, how she moved?”

  Pindor nodded a bit too vigorously.

  “She’s good,” Kady concluded. “Even said she’d teach me some of her moves with that spear.”

  Jake turned away.

  Great, like Kady needs to be any more lethal …

  Beyond the rail, he watched the city below grow larger. He didn’t know what to expect down there, but they’d been sent here for a reason. He just knew it. Nefertiti had described the barrier as impenetrable. So how did he and his friends get through?

  Jake could think of only one possible answer.

  The Skull King’s words played again in his head, scraping out of the darkness between worlds. Jake heard raw desire in that icy voice.

  The Key of Time …

  Jake pulled out the watch from under his shirt and cracked the case open. Had this somehow brought them here? Was that why Kalverum Rex wanted it from the start? Was he even now searching for another way to get past the Great Wind?

  Jake sensed that he was on the right track. He studied the face of the watch. The second hand spun around and around—but something was wrong. The hand was spinning too fast, ticking off minutes twice as fast as it should be.

  He frowned. What was wrong?

  As the windrider descended toward the city, the sweep of seconds spun even faster, as if sensing the approach to Ka-Tor. The closer they drew, the faster it spun, growing more and more excited as it neared the city.

  But why?

  Jake guessed a possible answer.

  Maybe the watch wasn’t only a key—but also a compass!

  Like a Geiger counter tracking radiation, the watch must sense something in Ka-Tor, something so important that it had to be locked within a ring of storms here centuries ago. Something the Skull King desperately wanted.

  Jake studied the approaching city with a sharper eye, sensing now why they’d all been dropped into this strange land. He lifted the watch higher as welcoming horns trumpeted below. He stared at the drawing inscribed inside the case—the ankh symbol: a clue left behind by his parents.

  It all led here.

  Something lost needed to be found.

  But what?

  Could it be some road marker to the true fate of his mother and father? Jake pictured his parents, flashing to the last photo of them both, smiling and happy. Was that the purpose of the compass built into the pocket watch? To find them?

  He stared toward the city.

  The only answers lay below.

  But will I live long enough to discover them?

  PART THREE

  12

  THE DUNGEONS OF KA-TOR

  Back in shackles, Jake and the others were marched down a wide thoroughfare that crossed the sprawling city. The airfield lay outside the main gates. Jake had counted four more windriders parked there, and a royal barge so large that it took three balloons to haul it up.

  Townspeople gathered to either side of the street in a carnival atmosphere. Fingers pointed at them. Horns continued to blare. Men shouted and bartered. Children ran everywhere, even hopping from rooftop to rooftop. Built of sandy bricks, the homes and stalls were mostly one story, with high, thin windows. Glancing inside revealed stone floors and little furniture. The place smelled of cooking fires, sweat, and exotic spices.

  Princess Nefertiti led the procession in a palanquin painted in crimson and gold. Fine cloths, all dyed sky blue, draped her freshly scrubbed form. She wore a circlet of gold on her head. Jake had trouble picturing this painted and polished girl as the hunter in the desert.

  Maintaining her role, she waved in a robotic fashion, plainly out of sorts, as her palanquin was carried aloft by four burly men, all wearing collars. In fact, Jake spotted only a smattering of Egyptians among the throng. All the rest wore collars.

  This must be where the slave-class inhabitants made their homes, but the place seemed far from miserable—the opposite in fact. It was raucous and colorful. Desert flowers sprouted from pots and planter boxes. Community fountains babbled and glistened through channels cut in the rock.

  A tiny saurian the size of a Chihuahua suddenly zipped past Jake’s toes, tripping him a step. It paused to hiss at him; and before it zipped away, Jake spotted a tiny scroll secured like a bow tie under its jaw. Dozens of other such beasts flitted and stormed through the crowd, running on two legs, often darting between someone’s legs.

  Marika hid a smile behind her hand. “They must be like the dartwings back in Calypsos. Running messages around the town.”

  As they marched, Jake occasionally saw a house painted black. Its windows would be sealed with stones. The doorway would be barred shut. None of the people in the streets glanced toward these homes. Some even passed by with their eyes shielded against the sight.

  Jake noted a crimson symbol smudged on the doors: the image of a skull with horns above it. The symbol looked as if it had been painted in blood.

  He counted more than a dozen such homes along the road from the main gate to the inner city.

  When Pindor noticed them, he asked, “Are those places cursed?”

  “I don’t know,” Jake answered. “The symbol on the top—the one that looks like horns—is the hieroglyph for ka, the Egyptian word for soul or spirit.”

  Kady snorted. “And even I can guess what that skull means.”

  Death.

  Jake shared a worried look with his friends. “From the dripping red paint, I think we’re looking at the symbol for that cult Politor was telling us about.”

  Marika turned to him. “The Blood of Ka.”

  “He said they were stirring up trouble, cracking down on people.” Jake nodded to another house. “He also mentioned something about Blood Games.”

  Marika paled. “Do you think all those families are dead?”

  “They’re definitely not home,” Pindor said dourly. He wiped sweat from his face and glowered at the sun overhead.

  By now they’d reached the inner wall and passed through another arched gateway. It was like stepping from a loud party into a funeral. The people lining the streets were mostly Egyptians. They stood stiffly, many shaded by wide umbrellas. They nodded as the princess passed; but Nefertiti ignored them and stayed slumped in her palanquin, lost in worries, judging by the way she absently chewed the knuckle of a finger.

  “Happy place,” Kady whispered.

  As they marched down the main street, Jake studied the Egyptian section of Ka-Tor. Constructed out of black stone blocks, the homes stood taller here, some rising three stories. None were painted, giving this region of the city a stern appearance; but peeks through doorways revealed a brighter heart to these homes: tiled floors, statues, even wooden furniture—a rarity, considering how few trees must grow out in the desert. Most of the dwellings also had courtyards with their own tinkling fountains and flowering desert vines.

  But even here Jake spotted a home sealed and painted with the skull of Ka. So even the Egyptians suffered under the thumb of that cult.

  “Looks like they’re taking us to the pyramid,” Marika said, drawing back Jake’s attention. “I think that must be the royal palace.”

  He stared toward the end of the street where a four-sided pyramid climbed twenty stories. It looked as if it had been sculpted out of a sin
gle block of stone, much like the desert outpost. An arched tunnel gave entry at the base of the pyramid. Windows glowed along the sloped sides. Balconies dotted the higher levels.

  Definitely people living in there.

  And Marika was right. Soldiers in full armor gathered at the opening at the base of the pyramid to greet the returning princess. This had to be the royal palace.

  Once near the entrance, Nefertiti climbed out of her palanquin and rushed forward to meet a clutch of black-robed figures huddled like a blood clot in the shadow of the tunnel. Her words, sharp with worry, reached Jake as he and his friends were marched forward to join her.

  “I’ve heard word that my father has woken!”

  The tallest of the group broke away from the others and bowed deeply. His face was hidden by a cowl. The Blood of Ka symbol had been embroidered in crimson on his ankle-length robe. As he straightened, he shook back his cowl.

  Marika let out a small gasp and covered her mouth.

  The man looked as handsome as a film star, like an Egyptian James Bond. His eyes sparkled, and his features were somehow both rugged and soft, all supported by a square chin. He offered the smallest of smiles to Nefertiti, which hinted at the well of charms hidden beneath the surface.

  But Jake knew Marika’s reaction had nothing to do with his movie star good looks. It was what glowed upon the man’s forehead. A third eye had been tattooed above his eyebrows, so perfect that it looked real.

  “Such glad tidings,” the man said. “The pharaoh has indeed woken from his slumber and asks for you.”

  “I must go up to him!” Nefertiti sidestepped the man and headed toward the arched opening into the pyramid.

  “And what of your prisoners?” the man called after her.

  Nefertiti glanced back, pinching her brows together in irritation. “I leave them to you, Master Kree. They say they are from Calypsos.”

  The man stiffened in shock. For a moment, something ugly flashed across those handsome features. But it vanished, like a fish darting back underwater.

  “Calypsos … surely that can’t be true.”

  Nefertiti waved away such doubts. “That is for you and your witch to decide. I must see my father.”

  The eyes of Master Kree—all three of them—focused on Jake, Marika, Pindor, Bach’uuk, and Kady in turn. “Take them to the dungeons. I will question them in a moment.”

  That didn’t sound good.

  Their guards closed more tightly around Jake’s group.

  Kady protested when a spear poked through her shirt. She slapped it away. “Do you know how much this blouse costs?”

  As they were marched into the pyramid, Jake glanced at one of the guards. Their eyes met. The giant black man looked ashamed. Jake knew why.

  “We helped you,” Jake said. “Back on the windrider.”

  The guard didn’t speak. He only eyed Master Kree as they passed. A tiny shake of his head warned Jake to be quiet.

  Once inside, they were quickly marched down a narrow, spiral ramp that drilled deep underground, lit by torches at every turn. Oily smoke crawled across the low ceiling, drifting upward, seeking a way out.

  Bach’uuk studied one of the torches with a crinkled brow as they passed, plainly bothered by something.

  Before Jake could ask, the guard finally leaned closer, his voice a low rumble. “It pains me to do this to you, but the Blood of Ka must be obeyed. Kree has ears everywhere and wields powerful alchemies. None dare speak against him. They’d end up rotting here. Or worse, used as sport in their bloody games.”

  The guard stared heavenward. “With the pharaoh waking, we all pray things may change.” His eyes found Jake again. “But first, Outlander, you must live long enough for that to happen. So be careful. Master Kree is not an enemy you want to make.”

  They had reached the bottom of the ramp and were blocked by a large iron door sculpted with screaming faces.

  “What are they going to do?” Pindor asked, sidling up to Jake.

  The answer came as the massive door swung open. Beyond the threshold spread a domed cavern lit by a central flaming pit. Surrounding the pyre stood a circle of racks and tables, draped with chains and shackles. A single, bare-chested giant wearing a leather kilt sharpened a set of knives with a dreadful snick-snicking sound. Bald-headed and scarred, the dungeon master looked more like an ogre than a man. He turned as they entered and smiled.

  Marika clutched Jake’s elbow.

  All of the man’s teeth had been filed to sharp points.

  The dungeon master pointed to an open cell along the back wall. They were forced toward it by the guards. To either side were more cells cut out of the rock, sealed with stout wooden doors. Tiny barred windows revealed pale faces, some wrapped in bloody bandages. A ghostly moan echoed out from a cell that seemed set off from the others, set deeper in the rock.

  Jake shivered and glanced around at the dungeon prisoners, picturing the walled-up houses above. Were these the men and women who had once lived in those homes?

  The guards forced Jake and his friends into the open cell and slammed the door shut. The tiny room was nothing more than bare stone with a pile of dried reeds in one corner for a bed. Along the back wall, a dank hole in the floor stank of things Jake didn’t want to imagine. Armored insects the size of his fist dove into that foul pit as Jake shuddered.

  Marika hugged her arms around her chest. “How could they do this to their own people?”

  Jake shook his head. He pictured the raucous, circuslike atmosphere of the outer city. Still, people shunned those sealed homes, refusing even to look at them.

  “I think sometimes it’s easier to turn a blind eye,” he said, “than risk your life by protesting.”

  “So no one’s going to help us.” Pindor sank toward the pile of reeds, but something scurried under the straw. He bolted straight up and backed away.

  Outside, a horrible scream burst from one of the cells. Maybe the same prisoner who had been moaning before. They all stared at one another, wide-eyed with fear. The cry died into cackling laughter, which was worse than any screaming or moaning. It was the laughter of someone whose mind had cracked into a thousand pieces.

  Jake stared at the others. He read the raw desire in all their faces.

  We have to get out of here.

  13

  A CALL FOR HELP

  Jake stalked back and forth across the small cell. He sensed the others’ eyes upon him, looking to him to come up with some escape plan. They had checked the walls, the door, even that foul-smelling hole in the floor. There was no way out.

  Needing a distraction, something to help clear his head, he reached to the chain around his neck and pulled out his father’s pocket watch. He stared down at the dial. Earlier, the second hand had been spinning rapidly as they neared the city. Now it had stopped. He turned in a slow circle, but the needle refused to spin again. He shook the watch. Still nothing.

  “Jake, what are you doing?” Kady asked.

  “When we were landing here, the second hand was spinning wildly.” He pantomimed it with a fingertip atop the crystal face. “Almost like it was responding to something here in the city.”

  Kady looked over his shoulder. “It’s not moving now.”

  “I know that,” he said with a touch of exasperation. He placed a palm against the stone wall of the cell. “I think all this rock is blocking the signal. We have to get back to the surface. Follow where the watch leads.”

  “How?” Pindor asked. “Even if we could get through this door, that wingless grakyl with the knives waits between us and the sun.”

  Jake pictured the brutish dungeon master. The snick-snick of him sharpening his blades had grown to feel like spiders climbing up and down his spine.

  Jake tucked away his father’s gold watch. “We’ll have to look for any chance to escape,” he said lamely, recognizing that it wasn’t much of a plan. He shook his head in defeat. “If only I still had my flashlight from before, the one that got turned in
to a freeze ray when it was fused with that blue ice crystal …”

  Bach’uuk spoke by the door. He stretched up on his toes to stare out the window and sniffed the air. “No good,” he said. “No crystals here. Only fire and smoke.”

  Jake didn’t understand what his Neanderthal friend meant. Bach’uuk settled back on the ground and stared at Jake with his sharp blue eyes.

  Then it struck Jake, too. He remembered Bach’uuk staring at one of the wall torches. Back in Calypsos, the townspeople had used glowing crystals—called hearth-lights—to illuminate their homes. The stones had been powered by the energy given off by the crystal heart in the center of the great temple. But since landing here, Jake had not spotted anyone using crystals. Even the huge windriders were nothing more than clever pieces of engineering powered by a naturally combustive source, namely those firebombs.

  But what did that mean? Had these people lost their knowledge of alchemy when Ankh Tawy fell? Or were crystals forbidden?

  “Maybe those stones don’t work here,” Kady added.

  Jake wasn’t buying that. He touched his throat. He could feel the subtle manipulation of his vocal cords. There was some energy here that allowed them to speak All-World. If that worked, crystals must, too.

  Or he could be entirely wrong.

  “If we had a crystal,” Jake said, “we might be able to test your theory.”

  “I have one,” Marika said, stepping forward.

  Jake swung toward her. “You do?”

  She reached into her pocket and tugged out a chunk of green crystal. She held it out toward him. It was the size of a chicken egg, only broken in half. The other half of the crystal—carried by another—would vibrate in tune with its twin, allowing communication, like a walkie-talkie.

  “A farspeaker!” Pindor gasped out. “Why didn’t you tell us you had one!”

  “I did. Back when I first ran into you all,” she reminded them. “I had been calling Papa on my farspeaker when I was snatched here.”