by Guy Antibes
The entire camp woke with a scream. Bellia sat up to see one of Yezza’s guards rising from his sleep. Menna struck her flint and lit one of the few torches they brought.
“Which way was the scream?” He tried to rub sleep from his eyes.
“Towards the stream,” Bellia said.
They all rose and walked in a group, feeling a measure of protection from the light. Just on the other side of the stream the bloody body of Yezza’s man lay. Long gashes covered his body. His eyes stared sightlessly towards the dark canopy of the jungle above.
“Drag him back to camp.” Yezza instructed her one remaining guard.
Menna held the light as Romo helped Yezza’s last man drag the victim towards camp. They covered the dead man with large leaves to keep the flying insects off and Bellia agreed to round out the last watch. She doubted if she’d be able to sleep.
Morning came quickly to the jungle. The leaves were removed from the victim’s body. The jungle creatures had already begun to reclaim the body, but the wounds were indeed made with large claws.
“Beast men?” Romo said.
“The man I saw was deathly white, but I didn’t notice any long claws,” Bellia said. “Perhaps they use some kind of weapon that makes those cuts.”
Little more was said as they gathered their things. Bellia could see the same fear she felt in everyone’s eyes. Romo and the last guard rummaged through the dead man’s belongings for any hidden treasures and then the party moved on.
“Look,” Yezza said. Bellia saw Yezza’s eyes light up and followed her gaze. To the left a few hundred paces on a hill, stone peeked out from underneath vines.
“Could that be the temple?” Romo asked.
“Probably,” Bellia said. “It matches about how far into the jungle we need to go.”
“And now I become rich.” Menna rubbed her hands together. “What are you looking at Bellia?”
She only shrugged her shoulders and smiled without mirth.
The jungle began to rustle behind them. All five of them ran towards the hill, spreading out as they went. The jungle began to erupt as bone-white men with long claws on their hands began to run after them.
“Run! To the Temple. Run!” Menna cried.
Bellia didn’t need any prompting. The savages began to catch up. Romo, who had taken most of the dead man’s property, began to fall behind. Bellia looked back as the ghosts jumped on top of her and dragged her down. Romo’s screams only made the remaining soldiers of fortune run faster. Yezza was the first to reach the incline up to the floor of the temple. She ran midway up and turned as Bellia and Menna reached the steps, shrugged off their packs and drew their swords. The last guard barely made it. The savages began to use his pack to pull him down, but the man shrugged the pack off as he spurted up the slope.
The savages howled and waved their arms. They milled around at the bottom of the incline.
Bellia sat down, as did the others, once they realized they had reached a sanctuary of sorts. Her chest heaved with exertion and, as the adrenaline quickly wore off, Bellia sunk to the edge of the incline to rest.
She listened to the savages. All their calls sounded like frenetic singing. They began to beat their chests, making them bloody with their claws. Bellia could now see they were sharpened bones fashioned with vines or thongs to fit over their hands.
The brilliant white paint that covered their bodies had begun to wear off of more than a few.
“Ghosts.” Spat Menna.
“Dangerous all the same. And we have to go through them to get out of here.” Bellia said as she saw the savages drag Romo back into the jungle along with her pack. In a few minutes they were all gone.
“Don’t think they aren’t out there,” Yezza said rising from the steps and stretching. “Perhaps we should move farther into the temple should they come with rocks to throw or slings.”
Down to four, they slowly moved up the incline and walked into the temple.
“I wish we had Romo’s food,” Menna said.
“I wish we had Romo.” Bellia felt the loss of another army friend. She thought Menna would show a bit more grief. At least Yezza had stood over her fallen man and muttered a few words in her language.
The inside of the temple stunned them. In a semi-circle at the back of the dome, twelve mounds of vines over twenty feet high had stood as silent sentinels for thousands of years.
Bellia pulled the vines off of the statue of a woman. She spent the rest of the day pulling off vines and using her sword to shear the roots from the statue. The marble had held up well for being exposed for thousands of years. The figure was dressed in a filmy dress. Her hair piled on her head, spilling down one shoulder. In her hand, she held a long spear. The statue was stone, but the spear was made out of a silvery metal that withstood the corroding forces for millennia. Bellia looked down at her sandaled feet and saw the dirt mixed with colored chips. She looked up and realized that once the statue was painted in color just like the Blind God statue at the Tuathua temple. Perhaps the paint had preserved the statues.
“Winna?” Bellia looked at Yezza. At Bellia’s suggestion she gazed at the figure and nodded.
“Might be. Who knows? Winna carries the spear. But a Middab woman would never wear a filmy dress like that to battle or anywhere outside her tent.”
No one slept much the first night. They heard more singing and yelling. The faint shimmer of a fire showed the savages had not left the temple vicinity
For the next three days, they pulled the vines off of all the gods in the pantheon and began to dig down to the floor. Bellia wondered which of the seven males might be the Blind God? There was no way to tell. They all held heroic poses.
“There is a vault somewhere.” Menna said holding out Bellia’s translation. She knew that they had gone as far as the parchment could take them.
“We’ll have to clean down to the temple floor.” Yezza said.
“Perhaps these gods might save us if we perform a clean-up service,” Bellia said.
Yezza and her man nodded. Menna tried to ignore Bellia’s comment, but grunted and began to take vines out and threw them out of the back of the temple to the jungle below. The pile of vines from the statues now reached nearly as high as the wall.
Bellia made pitchforks, picks and scrapers out of stripped tree branches that poked through the sides of the courtyard. None of the others had thought to make additional tools. They just used their swords and knives.
The floor of the temple lay beneath three to four feet of jungle dirt. Yezza and her man started at one end and Bellia and Menna began at the other and first dug down to the original stone floor.
Their supplies were dwindling by the time the temple was cleared. Bellia began to use her short sword to clear out the cracks in the stone floor.
“I’ve found something.” Bellia called the others over to where she labored. The crack in the stone block was a little wider and Bellia shoved her sword down halfway. “This might be where the vault is.”
They took knives along with Bellia’s sword and cleared out the dirt all around the stone. Yezza sunk to her knees and felt the surface. She pushed on a small square stone in the floor and they all heard a sound as the stone pavement raised up on one end, revealing a hand slot cut into the edge.
Bellia and Menna struggled with the stone, as if it didn’t want to reveal its secret after so many years. The resistance ended and they lifted the stone up. Dusty stairs descended into the darkness.
“It’s a good thing we saved a few of our torches,” Menna said as she led the party down into the vault. A few cobwebs barred their way, but everything that once lived in the vault had long since turned to dust. The air was stale but cool and dry. Painted carvings adorned the walls.
Bellia looked closely. This is how the statues looked.” Her fingernail chipped off a corner of paint. No one was interested in her comment.
Menna ran from corner to corner looking for a chest of treasure. Yezza stood with her man
in the center of the room watching Menna.
Bellia continued to look at the carvings and spotted a flower carving that looked a little out of place. She pushed on the flower.
Everyone stopped and held their breath as one. The wall moved to show an edge in the stone. Just like the step above, hand slots were carved in the edge. Bellia pulled. This wasn’t as hard as the paving stone above. The wall was hinged on one side and opened, revealing what looked like an office when Menna poked her torch inside.
Along one wall, piles of dust sat where scrolls had once been stored. An alcove was built into another, holding a chest. All but Bellia ran to touch the chest. Menna pulled out her Pock sword and levered it into the crack between the top and the bottom. She put all her weight on the sword and couldn’t budge the top.
“Let’s see if we can carry it up to the temple.” Yezza said. Her eyes glowed with excitement.
The mystery caught Bellia’s interest as she wondered what three thousand year old treasure looked like. Suddenly she thought of Ned. Was he a survivor of Helevat? Would he know which of the statues was the Blind God? She had a strong desire to bring a bauble from the chest and give it to him and have Ned recognize it.
“Hold the torch, Yezza.” Menna and Yezza’s guard pulled the chest from the alcove and dragged it along the floor.
It was too small to hold a vast hoard of gold, Bellia thought. Yezza moved towards the shelves. Bellia caught a reflection in the torch and walked over to the shelves. She spied a small box nestled in the dust. She picked it up and found it to be made of gold. A clasp held the remains of a wooden lock. She lifted up the top and saw a stack of golden sheets. Writing on the first page matched the scroll and the flute instruction sheet Ned gave her. Bellia put it under her arm as she followed Yezza up the stairs.
They all blinked in the light. As they began to work on the chest, Yezza’s man broke his sword when he put all his weight on the weapon to lever the top.
Bellia just looked on with her hand on her chin. Yezza walked out of her range and returned with her own swords. Her face was set in a grimace as she ran both of her swords into the back of her man. She pulled them out and advanced on Menna. She already had her knife and sword out. She began her windmill approach.
“Stop,” Bellia said.
Yezza looked at her as if to scold her for interfering, distracting her as Menna ran her sword clean through her stomach and twisted. Her face was frozen in a grimace that chilled Bellia. Menna advanced on her friend as Yezza slumped to the temple floor.
Bellia dropped the little box and pulled out her swords as Menna advanced.
“Now I finish you off for the last time.” Menna’s eyes blazed with hatred and not a little bit of madness.
“It’s going to take both of us to get out of here. You can’t carry all of that and fight off the savages.”
“What’s it to you? I can see you don’t want the treasure. It won’t mean anything to a mighty wizard like you. You and your tootling called the little beasties to us, girlie. Now it’s time you paid for that.” The tone of Menna’s voice hurt more than Bellia realized. This was her friend stalking her. Menna had only one thing in mind, taking her life.
Bellia blinked. “I’m no wizard.” She backed up further. The last thing she wanted to do was fight Menna.
Menna gave Bellia an evil grin.
“But we’re friends.”
“Our friendship ended the day you bested me in front of the King.” She lunged at Bellia.
Menna missed and Bellia ran midway across the temple floor. Menna picked up one of Yezza’s swords and advanced on Bellia. They clashed. The sounds of swords were amplified into the courtyard by the half dome. Bellia could see the savages assembling to watch the two women fight.
They closed and pushed each other apart. Bellia fell over Yezza’s body and her shortsword hand fell on the chest. Menna swung her Pock sword down on Bellia’s hand severing the last two fingers on her left hand.
“Ah, small body parts.” Menna said as she stood up, an insane gleam in her eye. “More to come.”
Bellia gasped through tears of pain and, while Menna stood gloating, she thrust her own Pock sword up through Menna’s stomach and into her chest. Menna staggered and fell down the incline rolling all the way down to the courtyard below.
Her hand! Bellia thought as she took her short sword in her other hand and cut off a section of Yezza’s shirt and wrapped her injury watching the fabric fill up with blood. She cut off another section and circled it around her wrist and twisted the ends with a stick to reduce the flow of blood to her hand. She thanked her army training or she knew she’d have no chance. Getting to her feet, She stood holding her hand to her breast and walked to the edge of the incline, seeing Menna’s body below.
She survived the fight only to see the savages line up in silence at the edge of the courtyard. The sun seemed to brighten and as she put her hand to her forehead, she became dizzy. All went black as she felt herself topple over into darkness.
~~~
Chapter Twenty-Two
Defenders of the Temple
~
Bellia awoke sore all over. The moon shone over the Temple courtyard. Menna’s body lay nearby. She raised her hand and felt pain return as she looked at the blood-soaked rags.
Sitting up, murmurs rose from behind her. At first she thought it was singing, then she turned and saw twenty or thirty of the savages kneeling, pointing their fingers at her. She tried to move away from the edge of the courtyard, but a savage walked across the line and stood above her. The man wore a glove of claws on one hand.
She thought after she survived her friends, it was ironic to succumb to ghosts, after all. Her swords were nowhere to be found. Perhaps she dropped them on the incline. The very act of sitting up made her dizzy. She closed her eyes and prepared for the worse.
A gentle touch on her shoulder caused her to open her eyes. The little man put out his hand. He trilled and sang to Bellia, then leaned over and put Bellia’s injured hand in his. More savages entered the courtyard and carried Bellia into the jungle. Perhaps they wanted to eat her for dinner. But if that was the case, why didn’t they bring Menna’s body as well?
The savages carried Bellia perhaps one hundred paces. The jungle opened up revealing a village of stone cottages. The walls seemed like blocks of bleached bone in the moonlight. Her destination seemed to be a larger building with large open-air windows. Her captors carried her inside and laid her on a raised table made of stone.
A sacrifice. That’s why they didn’t take Menna, she thought. They wanted a live victim; perhaps hot blood, just like the Piwati. She could provide that even with her mutilated hand. An older native, not wearing the white paint, stood over Bellia. He held a gourd cup in his hand and put it to her lips as her captors tilted her upper body from the table. A sedative? She struggled but the men held her tight as the older man poured a cold liquid down her throat. Her last thought was that it tasted awful and that the taste would last for eternity.
Bellia woke again. Her first expectation was to see her family in the underworld. She kept her eyes closed as she gathered her strength. Why would she be so weak now? A nudge caused her to open her eyes. The old man’s face looked down at her. More trilling and song from the man and all around him.
Her hand. She brought it up to his face and saw her unbandaged wound covered with a greasy salve. The stubs of her fingers, left from Menna’s downward slash, no longer poked above her knuckles. She felt the tightness of skin pulled over her stubs and sewn together. The salve was a translucent blue. She felt an ache in her hand but no sharp pain. A savage helped her sit up.
The old man smiled at Bellia and, nodding, gave her another gourd. This one appeared to be clear water. Bellia drank it all, arousing a deep thirst. She drank three gourds.
All the while the savages talked to one another with trills and song. Bellia didn’t think words were involved, just music. She was helped from the stone table and they carried
her to a roughly made chair in one of the huts.
Savages filled the hut as the old man presented Bellia with her flute. She had it when she fought. The old man nodded and made playing actions.
These people didn’t treat her like an enemy. She wasn’t slashed to ribbons. Her hand was treated. The least Bellia could do was play them a song. She didn’t know how well she would do with her injured fingers, but her options were few.
She thought of the song on the parchment that presented her with the vision of the temple, wondering what kind of sending the flute would give her now the Temple of Helevat was so close.
A sigh went up from the savages as she put the flute to her lips. The crude windows were full of faces. She began to play. She could still press the holes with the stubbed fingers of her left hand if she used the middle of her whole fingers to work the other holes. She felt pain, but she felt that she had to play for her life. It took her a few rough bars to get used to the difference in fingering, but then the notes began to recede as the vision arrived. Delight painted the faces of all the savages just before Bellia herself was swallowed up in the view.
The temple lay in the midst of a city. The green canopy of the jungle poked over the edges of far away roofs. The vision took her inside where twelve massive stone chairs sat in place of the statues. Larger than life figures walked to golden thrones and sat. Their language mimicked the savages, or Bellia thought, as she listened, the savages’ speech was a poor imitation to what the gods spoke. She saw more of the gods appear in the center of the temple and take their places under the dome.
People ringed the courtyard, looking up the sharp stone steps to the gods. The vision pulled back to show the sun setting on the dome of the temple and then the music ended.
She opened eyes she never remembered shutting. Tears ran down all of the faces, streaking the cheeks of those few who still wore the white paint. Hands reached out to touch Bellia, but none dared touch the flute. Only the old man tentatively stretched out his forefinger and touched the very end of the black stone.
