The Ancient One (27 page)

Suddenly, a triangular green head lifted above a large boulder not far ahead. Two thin yellow eyes focused directly on Kate. Then the lizardlike being reared up on his hind legs. He raised his hands to his mouth and readied to call out a warning.

Kate seized Laioni’s arm and pointed at the Slimni. Just then, a winged figure rocketed down from the clouds, talons extended. As the Slimni started to shout, Kandeldandel attacked from behind, digging his talons deep into the green scales of the creature’s back. With a squeal of pain, the Slimni dropped his hands and twisted violently to free himself. Kandeldandel rolled sideways off the boulder, pulling the reptile with him. They fell out of sight.

The group clambered as fast as they could up to the boulder. Monga, first to arrive, froze at the spot. He stood still, growling barely audibly, until the others joined him.

There, standing over the body of the slain Slimni, stood Kandeldandel. Black blood was splattered on his talons and once-white abdominal feathers. The lizardlike being, though nearly decapitated, still grasped one of his legs. Finally the Tinnani succeeded in pulling free, then said in a low voice to Monga, “You can stop growling now.” Spinning his head toward Kate, he added, “One down, five to go.”

“That’s how many you saw?” questioned Kate, placing her throbbing left hand protectively under her right armpit.

Kandeldandel, still clutching his flute, tried to shake the black blood from his leg feathers. “That’s all. There might have been more inside one of the huts, but I don’t think so. They were celebrating, and no scoundrel likes to miss a party.”

“We’re in luck, then,” whispered Laioni. “The rest must be off hunting.”

“Or pillaging,” threw in Kandeldandel.

“Is Sanbu there?” asked Kate.

“He is.”

“Did you see the walking stick?”

The Tinnani’s gaze fell. “No. Either he’s already given it to the Wicked One, or it’s in one of the huts. My eyesight is good enough I’m sure I didn’t miss it.”

“Pretty good spying for a lowly musician,” said Kate, tossing her braid over her shoulder. “I sure hope they still have it. Otherwise all this is for nothing.” She paused. “Hey, listen.”

From far up the ridge came the chanting of husky voices, wafting on the wind. A single drum pounded relentlessly in the background.

“A victory chant,” observed Laioni.

“Come on,” said Kate. “Let’s spoil their party.”

Stealthily, the attackers crept forward across the rocks. Monga led the way, though still hobbled from his last encounter with Sanbu. The brave dog pushed himself to go first, for he, too, had some business to settle at the camp. Laioni followed him closely, hunching her back to keep low. Next came Kate, carrying the spear parallel to the ground so it would not be seen by Sanbu or his men. Just behind came Kandeldandel and Jody, allies for the moment at least.

As they advanced, the chanting voices grew gradually louder. Finally, Monga stopped at the side of a large boulder covered with orange lichen, wagging his prodigious tail. As Kate and the others joined him, crouching behind the boulder, they could see the camp just ahead. Five men, one larger than the rest, sat on stones beside the flames, poking the fire with sticks and singing. All wore deerskin loincloths and black streaks painted across their cheekbones. The warriors seemed unprepared for battle, their black hair falling loose to their shoulders.

In contrast to the encampment of Laioni’s mother, no tools decorated the ground. Instead, Kate saw three spears, all with the same gray head as Sanbu’s, a stone hatchet, several knives, a large pile of firewood, and a bow with two flint-tipped arrows leaning against a stone nearby. The half-eaten carcass of a mutilated deer lay discarded near the fire, covered with flies.

The larger man turned to say something to one of the others, who laughed boisterously in response. As the big man rose to his feet, Kate sucked in her breath, for she could see he was indeed Sanbu. He stepped over to the other warrior and pushed him backward off his stone. The smaller man sprung to his feet and said something in an angry voice, whereupon Sanbu struck him in the jaw with a brutal blow. The warrior fell backward onto the rocky terrain, groaning as he rolled to one side.

Sanbu strutted back to his place and sat down again. He grabbed a slice of dried meat from the man seated next to him, then uttered a command. The warriors resumed their chanting. One of them pounded heavily on a drum of stretched deerskin. Sanbu’s victim rejoined the group, rubbing his tender jaw. Meanwhile, the first reddish rays of sunrise struck the camp, bathing the men and their two brush huts with rubescent light.

“If Monga could jump one of them, that would distract the others,” Kate whispered to Laioni. “Then we could search the huts for the stick.”

Laioni whispered into Monga’s ear, which stood rigid and alert on his head. The bushy tail swished from side to side until she had finished. For an instant his dark eyes connected with Laioni’s, then he bounded off toward the campfire.

Suddenly, he halted, sniffing the air. Laioni turned to Kate and said anxiously, “Something’s wrong.”

Monga abruptly changed his course. Instead of pouncing on one of the men seated by the fire, he veered sharply to the side and bolted for one of the brush huts. At that instant, a shaggy brown dog, a full head taller than Monga, emerged from the entrance. With a ferocious bark, the dog sprang at Monga, who met him in midair just outside the hut. They dropped to the ground, rolling over each other and snarling viciously.

Kate, Laioni, and Jody dashed into the camp, as Kandeldandel took flight. The five warriors leaped to their feet, reaching for their weapons. Sanbu saw Kate running toward him, carrying his own spear, and he let loose an ear-splitting cry of vengeance. The powerful Halami picked up a spear, reared back, and hurled it at Kate.

Just as Sanbu released it, something knocked against his arm, throwing his aim askew. The spear clattered against the rocks as Kandeldandel, talons extended, descended on top of him. Screeching like twenty owls, the Tinnani swiped across his shoulder, cutting deep into the flesh. Sanbu whirled around, grabbing one feathered leg with both of his burly hands. He threw Kandeldandel to the ground and bent to grab the stone hatchet.

At that instant, Kate plowed into his side with the spear, throwing all her weight into the charge. Sanbu roared in pain, dropped the hatchet, and staggered backward. He tripped over one of the sitting stones and fell into the fire. With a shriek, he rolled out of the coals and struggled to pull the spear from his ribs.

At the sight of Sanbu tumbling into the fire, the man he had struck only a few moments before cried out in fear and ran down the ridge as fast as he could. Meanwhile, Laioni and Jody battled together against another warrior, their three arms against his two, wrestling with him on the rocky terrain. Kandeldandel, having regained his feet, danced just out of reach of a stocky, muscular man who now wielded the hatchet. Nearby, Monga fought desperately with the bigger dog. They rolled across the ground in a snarling tangle of brown fur.

Kate seized the opportunity to search for the walking stick. She turned toward one of the two brush huts and dashed to the entrance. Kneeling, she peered inside the dimly lit enclosure, searching for the Stick of Fire.

As she knelt down, another warrior appeared from his hiding place behind a lichen-streaked boulder. He raised his bow, drew back the string, and shot an arrow directly at Kate’s back. His aim was good, and the arrow whizzed straight toward the unsuspecting target. It plunged into the blue day pack and smacked against the metal thermos still within, knocking Kate on her face with the force.

Saved by the thermos, she rose unharmed. She pulled the arrow out of the pack and stared at it, aghast. Silently, she thanked Aunt Melanie for packing the hot chocolate. She peered out the entrance, but could not see the marksman.

Mustering her courage, she darted over to the other brush hut. This time she threw herself inside before anyone could attack from behind. Scanning the interior, she spied a familiar shape in the shadows. She lunged for it, grasping the shaft in her hand—only to discover it was just another spear. She threw it aside, heart pounding like the warrior’s drum. Where is that stick? She hoped it was not already in Gashra’s hands.

In a gesture of hopelessness, she threw back her head and took a deep breath. Two yellow dots gleamed at her from the ceiling of the hut. The walking stick! Hidden in the brush above her head, it was nearly invisible but for the carved owl’s head handle. Kate reached upward and yanked it free, just as a powerful hand grasped her ankle and dragged her violently out of the hut.

The warrior whose arrow had missed its mark stood above her, glowering. Now brandishing a knife instead of a bow, he suddenly kicked hard at her head. Kate dodged the blow and jumped to her feet, still holding the walking stick. As the man spun around to face her, she swung the stick with all the force of a home run hitter, connecting with a thud on his left eye. The blow sent him reeling backward. But before Kate could recover her balance, another hand grasped the shaft.

“Sanbu!” she cried, as the warrior’s angry eyes, roiling with rage, met her own.

He tried to jerk the stick away, but Kate held fast. Then she did the only thing she could think of doing: She bit, and hard. Sinking her teeth into Sanbu’s sweaty wrist, she closed her jaw with all her strength.

“Eeaaaah!” he shouted, smashing his fist against Kate’s shoulder.

Pain seared her upper back, but still she hung on. Again Sanbu struck, this time on the back of her neck. She bit with all her energy, translating her pain into force.

Sanbu suddenly abandoned his grip on the shaft and pulled back his hand, wrenching her neck sideways. As Kate toppled to the ground, he reached to pick up a spear, blood streaming from the wound in his side. Lifting the spear high, he screamed vengefully as he prepared to end her life.

Just then, Laioni hurled herself directly into his chest. “Run!” she cried to Kate. “Escape while you can.”

Sanbu threw Laioni to the ground and stabbed fiercely at her with his spear. Before Kate could even rise to her feet, he sliced into Laioni’s thigh, cutting her deeply. Again he raised the spear, cursing wrathfully at this Halami girl who dared to challenge him.

At that moment, Monga released his death grip on the throat of the large dog. He backed away, staggered, and fell, then lifted himself weakly. One ear hung badly torn, while his right front leg dragged useless along the ground. Seeing Laioni’s peril, he forced himself to bound across the camp. Just as Sanbu was about to drive the spear into her chest, he leaped at the warrior with his last particle of strength.

As Sanbu shrieked, Monga clamped his jaws around the man’s neck. Sanbu fell backward, struggling to pull the dog away. But Monga held firm.

Kate glanced in the direction where she had last seen Jody and Kandeldandel, but saw no sign of them. She stepped to Laioni’s side and helped her to stand, though her leg bled profusely. Together, they stumbled away from the camp, climbing higher on the ridge. Using the walking stick as it was meant to be used, she steadied herself against the increasing weight of Laioni’s body.

“Leave me,” rasped Laioni. “Leave me or they’ll catch us. I’m too weak to go on.”

“I’m not leaving you,” declared Kate, leaning her against an angular boulder. Ripping the purple kerchief from her hand, she wrapped it tightly around the slashed leg to slow the bleeding.

Laioni whispered, “Go on, please. They’ll kill you too.”

“You’re not going to die,” retorted Kate. Gazing at the camp below, she saw Sanbu and Monga still rolling on the ground, locked in deadly combat. Yet she could see no one else. Where were Jody and Kandeldandel? And the other warriors?

All at once, the pale early-morning light swiftly dimmed. Kate turned toward the sky to see legions of dark clouds gathering overhead. A stiff breeze, cold as ice on her face, swept across the ridge. The few shrubs and grasses sprouting from between the scattered rocks bent savagely under the weight of the wind. Then came the first rumble of thunder, echoing ominously over the face of the mountain.

Laioni suddenly started to slump forward. Barely catching her before she fell, Kate draped the unconscious body across her own shoulders, grabbed Laioni’s dangling arm, and lifted her in a fireman’s carry. She straightened up with difficulty, feeling the weight in her knees and lower back. But where to go? She could not carry such a burden very far. She only knew she needed to find some sort of shelter, away from the oncoming storm and any of Sanbu’s men who might try to track them.

Straining to see in the limited light, Kate’s eyes roamed past the camp, across the rocky scree, and into the high reaches of the forest. There the shrunken and twisted trees, though deformed by endless winds, might offer some protection. Farther down the slope stretched the forest itself, visible now only as a sweeping sea of deep green, but for one nearby valley that was utterly dark. Beyond the forest, she could barely make out the towering cliffs of Lost Crater.

A blast of lightning sizzled across the sky. In the momentary light, Kate glimpsed two men, one carrying a spear, standing amidst the boulders just above the camp. They surveyed the ridge, searching for something.

Immediately, Kate turned to climb. Height was now her only hope for escape. Even with the help of the walking stick, Laioni’s weight made progress very difficult. Yet she forced herself, laboring mightily, to ascend the rocky ridge. It did not occur to her that every step brought her closer to the lair of the Wicked One.

XXV:
T
HE
S
ACRIFICE

Higher Kate climbed, step by arduous step. Laioni’s body sagged heavily on her shoulders, causing her to stop regularly to catch her breath. After resting only a few seconds, she continued up the slope, panting in the thin air.

She constantly craned her neck, scanning the ridge for any sort of hiding place that might shield them from the sharp eyes of Sanbu’s warriors, let alone Sanbu himself if he survived Monga’s attack. Yet she saw no sign of shelter, only an increasingly jagged jumble of gray granite and white quartz. Even the shriveled shrubs grew fewer and fewer, requiring something more receptive than solid stone to sink their roots.