The Cult of Sutek (27 page)

The low thunder returned, this time louder. Then another.

Jahi continued. “Ammit is often described as having a hide and body like that of a hippopotamus. That sort of sounds like a giant one running toward us to me. Oh, he also has a head like a crocodile.”

“Wulfrons. Rackals. Ammit. Why can’t we fight something like a bear? Even a really big bear. Just something remotely normal.” said Rondel.

A deep roar shook the forest. Instinctively, Jahi raised his hands to his ears.

Andrasta started edging herself down the path. “We should probably run now.”

* * *

A branch of red leaves whipped Rondel in the face. He would have cursed if breathing wasn’t already so difficult. But he barely had enough air not to pass out. He looked over to Andrasta who dragged Jahi as they stumbled forward.

They were supposed to be running. Injuries, soreness, hunger, and dehydration weighed them down to a sort of stumble and drag.

They had managed to lose Ammit on three occasions. During those lulls, they did their best to rest and examine wounds. However, some other hazard of the forest would hamper them, placing them back in peril. Giant lizards, spitting beetles, and shrieking birds amongst other things all tried killing them. They might have succeeded if not for the low thunder that always returned. Then, as quickly as a battle would begin, it would end. Every creature regardless of size or type recognized Ammit as king. None dared face him.

At least the king isn’t light on his feet,
Rondel thought as the pounding footsteps rose in volume.
We get more than enough warning.

“Forget the sorcery. Just worry about moving your legs,” said Andrasta.

Jahi had been craning his neck to see behind them, a ball of fire in his hands. The flames had weakened with each round of battle. Rondel knew from his travels with sorcerers that they cannot cast spells endlessly. Even the most powerful would eventually tire.

Rondel was glad Jahi had finally come into his own. He doubted they would have made it so deep into The Blood Forest without him.

A deafening roar sounded. The weight of the cry, which started low and ascended into a shrill caused Rondel to stumble. He caught himself before he fell. He was sure that if he hit the ground, there would be no amount of coaxing that could get him back up. His legs screamed at him with each step to stop, just as his lungs begged him to slow down.

Sharp cracks of branches snapping and tree trunks breaking before collapsing to the forest floor rang out.

Dear gods. How big is this thing?

Every ounce of his being told him not to look back, that if he did he would regret it. However, Rondel had always been a curious man. Asking questions to travelers was how he obtained his knowledge. Even his choice in profession had been in part the result of his curiosity to see the world.

I could have just stayed home. Played my lute and sung my songs at dances each new moon without a care in the world.

He peered over his shoulder, wincing as he stretched the slashes in his neck obtained from a bird as large as a small dog. A massive hoof the size of a stump from an ancient oak appeared through the veil of darkness behind him, slamming into the earth. He gasped, looking quickly for the head of the creature, but all he caught was shadow as the foliage from the trees hid most of it.

He spun, somehow finding the strength to increase his stride. He pulled ahead of Andrasta. His panic must have sparked something in them, because they quickened their pace as well.

“Look!” Jahi shouted.

A faint ray of sunlight pierced the gloom of The Blood Forest some hundred feet away, near the floor.

Andrasta mouthed something, but it was lost in Ammit’s next roar. Rondel put his head down, pumping his legs with everything he had. Andrasta and Jahi did the same. All three honed in on that small fleck of yellow as if they were starving and searching for the last crumb in the world.

A loud
snap
sounded beside Rondel. A smell that reminded him of dirty river water tickled his nostrils. He recalled what Jahi said about the head of Ammit being like a crocodile. His stomach jumped into his throat.

Leaves rustled, branches broke, and trees fell all around them as they reached their goal and left the forest. It was like pushing aside a curtain from a dark room. Sunlight blinded Rondel to the point that he had to shut his eyes from the stabbing rays. Yet, still he ran.

“Stop! Stop Rondel!”

Andrasta’s voice cut through the fog of exhaustion. Trying to stop, he tripped and careened to the ground in front of a solid rock face, skinning his knee and jarring his shoulder.

He found the strength to roll over, gasping. Jahi lay on the ground thirty feet away in the small, empty patch of land between the forest and the mountainside. Trees surrounded them on three sides, rock on the other. Andrasta did her best to stand over him, sword in hand. She swayed on her feet, staring back into the forest.

Ammit’s cry rang out once more, bouncing off the rock behind Rondel. He saw the briefest glimpse of the snout of a giant crocodile with eyes as dark as onyx.

“Why did it stop?” she asked.

“In the song, it said the creatures inside could not leave the forest,” answered Jahi. “Right Rondel?”

He nodded, too tired to repeat the verse.

“Did it say how to get out of this?” she asked, gesturing around at the trees butted against the rock face except in the area where they rested.

He swallowed but barely had enough spit to wet his dry throat. “Don’t need to. We’re here,” he managed in a hoarse whisper while thinking of the song’s lyrics.

Going back the way you’ve come
    
is a task suited for the deaf, blind, or dumb.
    
Unless despair has gripped you tight,
    
escape will take hands of might.

He pointed up to the side of the mountain. His hand rose with the rock face. There were far too few handholds or places to stand. Only a master climber and someone possessing a great deal of strength could scale the thing.

He realized the hand he held in the air was his damaged one. He looked at the shortened fingers and then the climb ahead of them.

The gods truly are cruel.

Chapter 16

For a few fleeting moments, Dendera had lost hope. It wasn’t completely surprising given her situation, but in her mind that was no excuse for such behavior.

She had reached the end of the last tunnel, practically beaming with excitement after rounding a turn and coming upon light shining from above. However, her excitement faded when she looked up. A narrow shaft of smooth walls rose countless feet in the air to the outside.

The task of climbing the chute seemed daunting at best. Bracing her arms and legs against the sides, she tried to shuffle herself upward but only made it a few feet off the tunnel’s floor before falling, limbs shaky.

She would never make the climb and chances were neither would any of the other girls in the chamber.

It is too tall and too smooth. I failed.

She sat there in the taunting sunlight for several minutes, debating whether she should even bother returning to the chamber.

A death of dehydration is slower, but it has to be a better option than the Heka.
She thought of all the other women who would have to suffer the ritual and pushed her selfish thoughts aside. It was a silly thing to think, barely knowing any of them except for Oni, but Dendera felt obligated to brave the horrors with them.

She traveled back down the tunnel, pausing only when a brief reflection of sunlight struck her eyes near the tunnel’s floor. She squinted and groped with her hands, pulling out a chisel and hammer. The tools were old and worn, metal rusted, wooden handle rotting.

Still, Dendera’s hope returned in droves. Escape might not be an option, but retribution was a possibility.

* * *

Once everyone caught their breaths enough to hold an actual conversation, they began planning their next move. Jahi mostly listened as Andrasta and Rondel talked over the best course of action. He had been out of his element the second he decided to rescue them from his father’s dungeons. Every moment since then had been a learning experience, each more valuable than the dozens of tutors his father had provided him.

Rondel has actually seen the places I’ve only read about. Gods, he’s met those authors. And the way Andrasta fights. . . . I don’t think any of my father’s men could defeat her. And these lessons aren’t just boring theory, but real in application. Granted, some are a bit too real,
he thought when considering the horrors of The Blood Forest.
I can’t believe I not only fought the fairy tales, but I survived.

Jahi wasn’t sure what his father would say when he learned what they had gone through to find Dendera, but he decided he would not hide any of it. He would tell his father about his talent. There was no telling how much he could help his father if he and Menetnashte came to war.

Think on that later. One step at a time.

“What was the verse again?” asked Andrasta

“Going back the way you’ve come

is a task suited for the deaf, blind, and dumb.

Unless despair has gripped you tight,

escape will take hands of might.”

Rondel paused, voice changing back to normal before speaking again.

Jahi wondered if the former minstrel realized each time he spoke a verse, the pitch went higher, the cadence slower.

“Pretty obvious what we need to do,” Rondel said.

Andrasta stared at the rock face. “Tough climb.”

“If you think so that doesn’t say much for me or Jahi.”

He looked at the woman’s muscular arms.
No kidding.

“Not necessarily. We’ll rest first.”

“It won’t matter,” said Rondel. “You’re the only one with the strength, endurance, and two hands.”

Andrasta pulled out one of her daggers. “Relian steel. Nothing can break it. I could use it like a chisel and make hand and footholds.”

“That might work if we had several weeks, but we don’t have the time or supplies for that.” He lifted his head and pointed. “We just need to reach that ridge. From there, the climb looks like something Jahi and I could manage.”

“Maybe I can sneak back into The Blood Forest and pull loose some of the vines to make a rope. I can climb up, tie it off, and lower the other end to help you up.”

“Not an option.”

“Why?”

Rondel bent down and picked up a rock. He wheeled and threw it into the trees. There was a small thud. The head-pounding cry of Ammit sounded. Jahi covered his ears until the cry ended.

“That’s why,” said Rondel.

“I swear I heard it leave,” said Jahi.

“It was a ruse and a fairly clever one. But the echo of the footfall wasn’t right. They didn’t match what we heard when it closed on us inside the forest,” said Rondel.

“You have a strong ear,” said Andrasta.

“Any good musician should.”

“Now what?” asked Jahi.

Rondel shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m too hungry to think straight.”

They decided they would finish the last of their food. Andrasta had been the only one to grab a pack before their horses had bolted.

Their meal consisted of a half loaf of hard bread, some dried beef, a small wedge of cheese, and two apples. The meager offerings seemed like a feast to Jahi’s empty gut. Though the food didn’t fill his belly to satisfaction, he immediately felt better from the sustenance. Thankfully, they found a small seepage near the base of the mountain which allowed them to drink more than their fill of water.

By the time they finished, it was nearing night. The thought of them doing anything other than rest, seemed to Jahi like a terrible idea.

As much as he wanted to find Dendera, he could barely keep his eyes open and knew any threat greater than a mosquito would overwhelm him.

Despite the sharp rocks he lay on, the occasional laughter from The Blood Forest, it was the deepest sleep Jahi had ever slept.

* * *

“And the farmer’s daughter will be saved by the knight!” sang the chorus of women.

Dendera spoke loudly over the singing. “Are you sure they don’t know something else?”

Oni shook her head. “These are mostly poor women. They weren’t exposed to the things that you and I were.”

“I know. But a children’s song?”

Oni shrugged. “At least the guards don’t seem to care.”

“True.”

Dendera’s arm came down hard against the chisel Oni held, breaking off a sharp piece of rock they set aside. Half a dozen other women worked at similar pieces, slowly chipping one side away until fashioning a crude point on the end of each rock.

The women had been disappointed by her inability to find a way out. However, they put aside their despair and seized on the thought of revenge when Dendera outlined her plan. Since then, the women had worked almost nonstop, trying to create weapons they could conceal inside their clothes.

They planned to lash out in unison at all the cultists present for the Heka, hoping they would not only ruin the ritual, but bring about their own bloody slaughter in the process.

“I don’t how to use something like that,” one girl had objected.

“Just think about what they plan to do to us and do the same to them. Take the point and jam it between their legs.”

What would Rondel and Andrasta say if they saw me now? I doubt they would still think of me as a dumb little girl.
She paused, thoughts growing somber.
Then again, what would Father and Jahi say?

To mask the sound of Dendera’s pounding and the steady chipping away by those creating edges, Oni had suggested the women sing songs. The guards had checked on them with the first tune, but did nothing more than laugh before leaving.

Dendera considered the song being sung about a girl rescued from peril by a great hero.

They probably think we are being childish holding onto hope. They don’t realize we’ve lost hope. And that makes us all the more dangerous.