Jake lay on his back in a shallow pit, hastily scooped out of the sand. The milling bodies of the other captives hid their actions. Sand already covered him from the neck down. To either side, his three friends faced the same predicament. Pindor fidgeted as Nefertiti pushed a mound across his friend’s neck.
“Quit wiggling like a sandworm!” Nefertiti scolded.
“It itches. I’ve got sand up my …” He stammered, blushing. “Up everywhere.”
“You’ll survive.”
Jake hoped that was true. Turning his head, he shared a worried look with Marika. She seemed just as doubtful about this plan. Next to her, Bach’uuk simply sprawled flat on his back, resigned, knowing they had no other options.
If they were to stop the Skull King, Jake had to attempt to cross the storm barrier. To do that, he needed a distraction, some way to escape the noose around the camp. Nefertiti had come up with this plan. It was crazy, but he couldn’t come up with anything better.
The princess returned from the stack of desert survival gear salvaged from the Breath of Shu. She dropped to a knee in the sand next to Jake. “Quick now. Some of the guards are getting suspicious.”
She reached down and pulled a leather hood over Jake’s face. With sand weighing down his body, he had a momentary flare of claustrophobia, as if she were pulling a death shroud over his head.
Then her hands adjusted a set of goggles built into the leather hood. She fitted it over his eyes, and firelight flared as he peered through a diffracted spyglass built into the garment. It was one of the same hoods used by Nefertiti’s hunting party to ambush the velociraptors. It had allowed her and her hunters to hide under the sand.
Nefertiti moved a tube to his lips. “Breathe through the hollow reed. Keep watch. Break free when you think it’s safe.”
There was nothing safe about any of this. But he tested the breathing tube. At least it worked.
She leaned down and filled the vision of his scope. The certainty of her voice fractured into something softer and more sincere. “Jake Ransom … if it’s in your power, please save my people.”
With the reed between his lips, he could only nod.
He would do his best.
She pressed her cheek against his as if thanking him. Instead she said, “Hold still,” and pulled a big scoopful of sand over his face, finishing his burial.
His friends suffered the same fate. Jake had insisted on making this journey by himself, but no one would listen.
Pindor had offered the best reasoning. “If we can’t get through the barrier with you, we can at least guard your back.”
With no time to argue, Jake had relented.
“Get ready,” Nefertiti said, and stepped over to Politor and her uncle.
Through quiet signals, the ship’s crew and rebels prepared themselves. Rocks were furtively slipped into hands. Daggers appeared in fingers. Nefertiti rested her palm on her sword.
No one had yet bothered to strip them of their weapons. And why would they? Kree’s forces—both on the ground and aboard the barge—vastly outnumbered the few prisoners. And on top of that, a snarling horde of harpies surrounded the entire camp.
Even the Skull King and his witch ignored them. The two stood several yards away, their attention fully focused on the pocket watch like two magpies playing with something shiny. Kalverum Rex had been lusting after this prize for so long; and now with it in hand, he showed little interest in the trapped prisoners.
Jake turned his head to the side, causing sand to sift under his collar. Only steps away, his pack lay on the ground, guarded over by a pair of Blood of Ka priests. The bag still held the emerald crystal.
A sharp call drew his attention around.
“Now!” Nefertiti shouted, and yanked out her sword.
The entire camp charged toward the Crackles as if attempting to make a run for its shadowy canyons and tunnels. They hit the surrounding guards like a battering ram. Caught by surprise, Kree’s forces splintered and fell back.
Nefertiti took advantage of the momentary confusion and drove her assault deeper, breaking through the line of guards. But that still left a flying mass of claws and teeth between her and the cliffs. As Nefertiti continued onward, the entire battle shifted in that direction, dragged along with her.
Guards ran over Jake and his friends, pounding after the escaping prisoners. They were followed by the encircling edge of the harpy flock. Within a matter of seconds, the sands were empty around Jake.
He dared not wait any longer.
With a heave, he shoved himself out of the shallow pit. He rolled free, scattering sand and ripping away his hood. The others did the same, like dusty zombies climbing from their graves.
Marika struggled, but Jake grabbed her forearm and pulled her free. Pindor and Bach’uuk yanked out weapons: a sword and an iron cudgel.
Jake turned to find a single priest still guarding his pack. The other had gone after the escaping prisoners. The black-robed figure made a grab for the shoulder straps, but Marika flicked out her arm. A dagger flew from her fingertips and impaled the man through the wrist.
With a cry, he fell and landed on his backside.
Already moving, Jake sprinted, snatched the backpack in one hand, and kept running. He headed away from the fighting and toward the storm. His friends followed. The priest tried to call out a warning, but it was lost in the clash and screams of the battle.
Then a sharper note cut through the commotion: a girlish cry of fury—coming from the sky.
Jake looked, shocked to find a brawl being fought ten feet in the air. Nefertiti hung from the claws of a harpy while battling three others with her sword in one hand and a knife in the other. She finally jackknifed up and kicked the one that was holding her in the face. With a shriek, it let go; and she plummeted to the sand, hitting hard about thirty yards away, driven down to one knee.
The harpies dove after her—and more were on the way.
She would not last long.
Pindor slowed, his eyes twitching toward the battle. Jake saw the pain in his friend’s face, caught between two desires.
Jake understood and pointed to Nefertiti. “Go!”
With a look of relief, Pindor turned and ran to help the princess.
Halfway to the storm, Jake risked a glance across the sand. Off to the side, the Skull King had noted their flight. His black-fire gaze fixed on Jake with a malignancy that caused him to trip. Bach’uuk caught his arm and kept him on his feet.
The Skull King took a step toward them, but he had poor control over Kree’s body and would never be able to cross the distance in time. Recognizing that, he waved an arm to Heka.