Hatshepsut's Collar (The Artifact Hunters #2) (33 page)

Nate scowled. “History says Hephaestion died of typhoid.”

Cara sat up, unable to watch Nate’s upside down movements. “History has a tendency to gloss over things that can’t be easily explained, like killer necklaces and diamond hearts capable of beating and joining two souls.”

The pacing halted and he turned, the scowl becoming a smile at the woman who shared his heartbeat. “Who wore the collar next?”

“The thing disappears from history for centuries until it reappears around the throat of Genghis Khan and we all know his proclivity for invading and conquering.”

“And how did he meet his demise, according to your research?”

“He met his end at the hands of a Tangut princess taken from her family as war booty. Genghis Khan meant to force her submission. They fought, and during the struggle, she tore the collar from around his neck. He had hold of her and they both died from the fatal energy discharge.”

Nate ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t like our current options; we need to find another way.”

ime became the enemy. With the slow passage of minutes into hours, the occupants of the Hellcat fought inactivity. They waited for the cracks scattered over the dragon eggs to rupture and release the occupants, but hoped not before they landed. They waited for news of Victoria’s declaration of war against China and prayed they would return in time to stop her. They waited for any sign of pursuit, but saw none.

Sergei did his best to keep cabin fever at bay telling old legends to Cara, pointing out hills and rivers harbouring slumbering princesses or malicious goblins. Russian fairy tales of Baba Yaga the witch and her house on chicken legs came to life as dense forest passed underneath the airship. His heavy accent and rich tone a mesmerising mix, holding her enthralled like a small child at bedtime. His stories calmed her mind buffeted by events beyond her control.

Day dragged into night and they sought escape in restless sleep to begin the process anew the next day. Morning revealed hair line fractures in the other two eggs, but no more in the larger egg. Nate, Loki, and Sergei poured over topographical maps, narrowing down possible landing points as they neared his cabin.

Down in the cargo hold, Miguel and Cara donned harnesses and clipped themselves to hooks by the open cargo door for a spot of shooting practice. A mechanical arm operated by a crew member launched clay targets into the airship’s wake. Leaning out, boot toes over the edge of the doorway, bodies angled toward the earth, Cara challenged her vertigo.

She preferred a pistol over a shotgun but took one up to save dangling her prized guns over the edge. As the morning wore on, Miguel’s score surpassed her own. Determined to make up the difference, she focused all her attention down the sights. She slowed her breathing, waiting for the small projectile to launch overhead. A metallic ping sounded behind her, a flash of orange and her mind flew with the disc. She leaned into the shot, her finger squeezing the trigger just as the Hellcat rolled on an updraft. Intent on the target, she didn’t adjust her balance with the movement and her feet slid over the side.

A scream tore from her lungs as her body flew out the door in a rapid descent to the solid ground far below. Her nails clawed at the metal of the rifle as though she could use the weapon to paddle on an updraft. Her life never flashed before her eyes; she was too busy yelling, “Oh, fuck!”

Her head snapped. Her fall arrested as her body lurched backward. Eyes wide with fear, she turned to see Nate hanging on to her harness line and dragging her back into the safety of the hold.

“Shut it down,” he yelled, pulling Cara to his chest. “Breathe, I’ve got you,” he murmured against her ear.

Miguel jumped backward, out of the way as crewmen moved to secure the target launcher in its alcove, and others released the metal door. He shucked off his harness and stowed his weapon.

With the cargo door secure, Nate pried the rifle from Cara’s death grip and tossed it to Miguel. Then he took over from her shaking hands and removed her body harness. “Are you all right? Are you hurt?”

Her head nodded no before changing direction to nod yes, then stilled. She closed her eyes, drew a deep steadying breath and then opened her eyes to answer. “I’m fine, just slightly terrified to discover I can’t fly.”

“Now you know why we always secure outriders to the lines.” He tossed the harness aside.

She gave him a weak smile. “To think I used to worry about small, enclosed spaces. I’ve just given myself a whole new paranoia of the wide open.”

Once satisfied she was unharmed, he released his grip. “I came down to tell you we’ll land within the hour. You and I will accompany Sergei while the others will stay with the Hellcat.”

She gave a nod, words still trapped in her chest. “I’ll be fine, once my legs stop shaking.”

The airship landed at the forest’s edge. With snow deep on the ground, the hull sank into an enveloping pillow. Two crewmen threw down the gangplank and a cloud of frothy flakes shot up into the air to rain down again as the small party disembarked. Nate cast his gaze skyward. Night would fall fast and dusk already crept over the horizon.

“We’ll be back tomorrow,” he said to Loki. “Hunker down, it’ll be a cold night.”

Loki gave a thumbs up. “Don’t worry about us, we have plenty of anti-freeze.”

Cara pulled a fur lined hat over her ears, and followed the wake Sergei cut through the fresh powder. Nate covered her back, ever watchful.

Sergei carried the tea chest deep into the forest, his tree trunk legs leaving a wide furrow in the snow. Cara followed his enormous back, questions racing through her mind. First amongst them
, where the heck are we going?

The Hellcat lay far behind them and still they trudged through the never ending snow, laden conifers, and larch. Light broke through the trees and they soon shook off the verdant restraint and passed into a small clearing. A white covered hummock lay in the centre of the circle, looking like a prehistoric burial mound awaiting discovery. Two arms reached from either end of the burrow toward the darkening sky. Intermittent puffs of grey tendrils shot from what looked remarkably like chimneys.

Sergei turned and thrust the chest into Nate’s hands. “Wait here. I will light the lanterns.”

Turning back to the mound, he began scraping at the snow. He worked for several moments, disappearing deeper into the bank until he stood back to reveal a dark packed earth wall and a scarred wooden door. He grasped a cast iron ring―the size of a dinner plate―and yanked. A crack rent the air as a thin membrane of ice sealing the doorway split, and he pried open the door. His body eased into the darkness beyond and the door slammed with a whack, causing Cara to jump.

Evening crept closer around them, swallowing the surrounding Siberian forest and leaving them in a dim circle of light. As they waited, Cara’s old friend, curiosity, reared its head and burst forth. “How the heck does Sergei come and go from this deep in Siberia?”

The slow smile spread over Nate’s face. “Airships aren’t the only things that can fly.”

A thousand more questions burst into her mind. “If that’s smoke coming from the chimney, who keeps the fire going?”

“The same friends who offer him rides closer to civilisation.”

Too many questions short-circuited her brain, rendering Cara silent as she contemplated the implications.

Just as night reached out to embrace them, the door swung open. “Come, come.” Sergei waved them forward, and took the container from Nate. “Let us get warm.”

Cara stepped over the threshold. Wide stone steps dropped below, leading deeper under the ground. Miniature lanterns, no larger than her fist, adorned the wall at regular intervals casting a soft light, sufficient to illuminate the stairs. Sergei’s home lay buried in the earth, the frozen ground above acting as insulation, keeping the interior warm during the long and brutal winter. Another doorway stood guard at the bottom of the stairs and Cara followed the dragon master into a brightly lit living area.

A large, iron light fitting, which looked suspiciously like a former cart wheel, hung from the middle of the small room. Cheerful, blazing lights lit up every surface, revealing a home of surprising comfort at odds with Sergei’s hard exterior. Velvet cushions with long tassels sat on an overstuffed sofa and nearly buried a large armchair. The hardwood floor was softened by the deep pile of lush wolf and bear rugs that overlapped and fought for floor space.

Sergei carefully set the tea chest next to the enormous fireplace. Then he pulled a lever to open the flu, and a breeze fluttered over the embers, flaring them into life. Grunting in satisfaction, he placed a small pile of tinder into the firebox. He watched, waiting until it caught. Once flames licked at the offering, he fed larger pieces to the blaze before closing the door.

Cara shucked off her heavy boots and peeled off her outer layers of clothing. Nate hung their heavy insulated jackets on large iron meat hooks attached to the wall in one corner of the living area. The fire began to throw out much welcome warmth, and she sunk into the sofa.

Sergei ripped the top off the tea chest and pulled a bear fur rug closer to the hearth. He lifted each egg with gentle reverence and created a nest in the deep pile. Soon, three eggs stood at attention in the prime spot, soaking up all the available heat from the roaring and crackling fire.

“Good,” the enormous man muttered to himself. He rose and headed to a small kitchen. “I make dinner. Little one needs feeding up and meat on her bones.”

Cara rolled her eyes. “You sound like my grandmother.” She watched Nate prowl around the room and wished he would settle. She wanted to use him as a leg rest and would kill for a foot rub.

“We can only stay tonight,” Nate said, dropping next to her on the sofa. “We have lost too much time already. We should have returned direct to England; Prince Albert is waiting for us.”

“I know.” She let out a sigh, her gaze fixating on the large shells. “But they’re
dragons
. How much damage can Victoria really do in the time we have been away?”

“In two weeks, she can finish amassing the youth of England, declare war on a foreign power, and lead us down a path that will cost thousands of lives.”