Entangled

by Graham Hancock

  Don Leoncio’s arm was cut and bleeding, Mary was white as a sheet. Don Emmanuel looked close to collapse and was being tended by Esteban.

  Leoni figured the first two dogs had been let loose for whatever mischief they could do – and they’d done enough – but back down the trail the second two were still baying, choking against the leash, and she could now also hear the distant excited shouts of the hunters.

  Because surrender wasn’t going to be an option with Jack involved, and they were all going to die, she wanted to apologise to Mary: ‘I’m sorry you got dragged into this,’ she said.

  The older woman surprised her. ‘It’s not your fault. We’re all adults here. I’m sorry I reacted the way I did when you told me about John.’ She stepped closer and embraced Leoni: ‘This whole thing. It’s an amazing experience. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.’

  Still nobody had moved. ‘Come on!’ said Leoncio. ‘This way!’ And he plunged off the faint trail they’d been following and led them straight into dense jungle, hacking through the clinging vines and thorns.

  ‘The river’s about five hundred feet over there,’ he explained.

  ‘The river?’ Leoni didn’t see why that was useful.

  ‘Tributary of the Ucayali. If we can get across it we’ll be safe.’

  ‘How do we get across it?’

  ‘Swim.’

  Behind, the dogs bayed.

  * * *

  Five hundred feet is a long way in virgin jungle and just as they reached the river’s high bank, overgrown with palms, a tremendous hue and cry from their pursuers told Leoni the bodies of the dogs must have been found. There was an instant of delay and then the hunt surged towards the river. Crouching down, facing back the way they had come, Matt seemed to have been waiting for this. He fired a long burst from the AK-47, ejected the empty clip, locked a new one into place and fired again.

  ‘In the water,’ yelled Leoncio, barely audible above the rapid rattle of the assault rifle. ‘Ditch your packs. Hold on to each other.’

  Leoni looked down at the muddy swirling river, wide as a football pitch, undercutting the bank fifteen feet below. Monsters, she thought. It’s full of monsters. I can’t get in there. She saw Esteban and Emmanuel jump and realised bullets were flying out towards her from the jungle. There was a whiz and a slap. She felt heat part her hair and a gush of blood poured down into her eyes from her scalp. She put up her hand, fearing that her brains had been blown out, like Bannerman’s, but found instead a shallow bleeding groove running diagonally across the top of her skull. With a yelp she dumped her pack, grabbed Mary’s hand and they jumped together from the bank, hitting the water with a tremendous splash.

  At once the current swept them out towards the midstream where Esteban was keeping Don Emmanuel afloat. A few seconds behind, Don Leoncio hit the water and swam to join them. Matt was the last. Still standing on the bank, he fired a final long burst back into the jungle, threw down the AK-47 and his pack, and jumped in.

  A second later a huge tawny mastiff with jaws like a steel trap came flying off the bank, hit the water and swam after him, fast as an otter, gaining on him. Leoni was still holding on to Mary’s hand and the two of them were treading water, watching hypnotised and aghast, but just before the dog got its teeth into Matt he rolled, pulling a pistol out of his belt, and – Bam! Bam! – shot the animal twice in the head.

  As it sank beneath the surface without even a yelp there was a muffled scream. Mary’s hand was torn from Leoni’s grasp, and there was a tremendous agitation in the water. Turning in horror, Leoni saw the older woman had been seized in the jaws of a massive black cayman. It shook her from side to side the way a terrier shakes a rat.

  Chapter Eighty-Four

  Of the thousand Merell who came out of the forest with Sebittu, most were either too old, too young or had been too badly wounded in previous skirmishes with the Illimani to be any use if it came to a fight. Still, Ria counted a hundred and eighty-seven able-bodied braves amongst them – a credible force. All were armed with the usual assortment of spears, clubs, maces, axes, hatchets and knives, but the real prize was that a hundred and nine of them also carried powerful hunting bows and quivers full of arrows.

  It wasn’t enough to beat Martu and Sakkan – nowhere near enough – but Ria hoped the presence of so many archers might at least make the Illimani think twice before attacking. She put Ligar in charge of them and gave Bont command of the other seventy-eight. Communication was going to be difficult, perhaps dangerously so, but for the vital decisions she needed people who’d fought by her side before. Besides, Ligar already knew a little Merell, and there were Merell in both groups who could speak enough of the Clan language to pass orders on. The arrangement would have to work.

  Then there were the women. Again, there were many who were injured, ancient or infirm, but with Tari assisting her Ria selected close to two hundred who were able-bodied and had them stand to one side. Being Merell, all of them were already armed with some weapon or other. Their job now, Ria told them, was to be the last line of defence for the children and the elderly. She placed Tari in charge of them.

  With half of his men and ten of Ligar’s archers Bont would march at the head of the column with Sebittu, Driff and Ria. Grondin, Oplimar and Jergat volunteered for the rearguard. Ria assigned the rest of Bont’s men, along with ten more archers, to join them there and divided the remaining archers under Ligar’s command to protect the flanks. The column could close up or spread out, depending on the terrain, but this would be the general disposition. Relays of the fastest runners were sent out ahead to scout the route for danger and unforeseen obstacles.

  Ria decided to keep the rescued children together and to preserve the command structure she’d established on the mountain. Birsing, Entu, Panalan and Darza remained in charge and the first task she gave them was to ensure everyone had a weapon – even if it was only a sharp-edged rock or an improvised club. They were to form an organised core within the larger mass of non-combatants at the centre of the column, and unlike the others, who would be no help, Ria told them she expected them to fight back if they were attacked: ‘Fight for your lives. You’ve seen what the Illimani do when they win.’

  ‘Is it true,’ Birsing asked, ‘that their leader drinks the blood of captured children?’

  Word was getting round. ‘Yes,’ Ria admitted, ‘it’s true.’

  Birsing shuddered: ‘But you’re going to stop him, aren’t you? That’s what the prophecy says.’

  Ria smiled: ‘Of course we’ll stop him.’ She could see Birsing believed her, but inside she was filled with doubts and the weight of her new responsibilities weighed her down. Everything in her life was moving and changing so fast that it was hard to remember who and what she’d been just a few days before. Now she was to be a hero to every little girl and boy, some of them only a few years younger than herself, and she had the hopes and expectations of a whole tribe focused on her.

  She would march them through the night, without stopping. That way there would be less risk of encountering the Illimani. And she would march them all the next day. If the spirits were with her she would get them back to Secret Place safely sometime after nightfall tomorrow.

  The return journey through the great forest began before the last light of the long summer evening had left the sky, but when full night arrived, with moonrise still a long way off, the darkness grew thick as blood. This was a Merell forest and scouts who knew it well guided the column through the trees, but still the going was slow and difficult.

  Ria was at the front with Sebittu at her side and with Bont, Driff, Grondin, Oplimar and Jergat all nearby. Sebittu had been talking at length about the Merell’s worship of their goddess, the Lady of the Forest, and about the prophecy she had given in the long-ago that Ria fulfilled. It had been passed down by word of mouth from generation to generation – every Merell learned it in childhood – and it now emerged there were other verses which further strengthened the connection.
One, which described Ria exactly, said that the harbinger would be ‘an unwed girl of sixteen summers’. Another predicted she would be ‘an orphan, born of the Clan’. And a third stated that Uglies would fight beside humans in the army of the harbinger of the light – so the presence of Grondin, Oplimar and Jergat had been taken by all the Merell as further confirmation of the truth of the prophecy.

  It was all very strange, Ria had to admit, yet this was how the blue woman worked – not directly but in roundabout ways, manipulating others to fight Sulpa on her behalf and finding them means and allies. She hadn’t told the Merell yet about her own encounters with the Lady of the Forest. It would have seemed boastful, when they were already acclaiming her as the subject of the prophecy, to hold up her hand and say, ‘Yes, I’ve met your goddess. She gave me my gift of languages.’

  Probably they all took that for granted already anyway.

  As the slow passage through the forest wore on, and the moon rose to light their way, a new phenomenon became apparent. Groups of ragged refugees, mostly women and children but some with braves amongst them, appeared through the trees, following the column, crying out for protection and in some cases for food. They came from many different tribes, though none of them were Clan, and all told the same story of Illimani attacks on their camps, of bloody massacres and spectacular cruelties, and of their own desperate escapes.

  Ria refused nobody, not even a Naveen hunter with shifty eyes and wearing ragged skins who gave her a bad feeling the moment she saw him. The column kept growing with the constant stream of new arrivals and Ria could sense Grondin was troubled. ‘The spirits gave Secret Place to the Uglies to keep us safe from your kind of people,’ he pulsed as another large group was assimilated. ‘Now we’re taking more than a thousand of you inside …’

  This had all been discussed with Brindle before they set out and the policy had been agreed. Despite the appalling risk it posed to the Uglies, all people of whatever tribe who were fleeing the Illimani would be welcomed. Nothing had changed, but Ria understood how scary it must be for Grondin to see for real the flood of refugees their generosity was about to bring into their sanctuary. ‘Who’s to say they won’t just kill us all when they outnumber us?’ Grondin now asked.

  ‘I say that,’ Ria pulsed. ‘I say it a hundred times. I will rule these people until Sulpa is defeated and they will respect and honour the Uglies.’

  Grey dawn light was already filtering through thin clouds and mist lay chest-high across the ground as the column passed in silence through the foul-smelling charnel house of the Merell camp by the stream.

  Soon afterwards they emerged from the forest onto the bleak open moors beyond, and the full numbers of the refugees who had joined them became clear – around another four hundred, Ria estimated, amongst them approximately sixty braves whom she assigned to Bont’s advance party and the rearguard. After being hunted and harried for days it seemed everyone was eager to be part of the great and strong counterforce building before their eyes, and there were no challenges to Ria’s authority.

  But at mid-morning more than a hundred Naveen braves, who had somehow evaded detection by the scouts, appeared over the crest of a hill on a collision course with the column. Although they kept their bows slung across their shoulders they held their spears forward and approached at a threatening run.

  Ligar had his archers stand by but instructed them to keep their bows unbent unless the Naveen fired first. ‘We want these people for allies,’ Ria said. ‘Let’s be friendly.’

  The Naveen commander didn’t carry a bow, but was armed with three spears gathered in a bundle in his huge left hand. He was tall and powerful, a thick, muscular slab of a man, as big as Bont or Grondin. He had high cheekbones, a massive jaw, a hooked nose and fierce slanted eyes. From the lines in his face Ria guessed his age at close to forty summers but he was agile and fast on his feet. His most striking feature was his skull, which was shaved bald except for a topknot of black hair gathered into a pigtail that hung down between his shoulders.

  He drew up his men in ranks twenty wide right in the path of the column and everyone came to an abrupt halt. ‘You are welcome in the land of the Naveen,’ he said to Sebittu, speaking fluent Merell. ‘I am Balaan.’ He looked along the column with its ragged ranks of refugees now spreading out to right and left, and nodded his head. ‘Our valleys too have been invaded,’ he continued, ‘but some of us are ready to fight back.’ He indicated his men. ‘If I add my force to yours we’ll be powerful. My price is joint command.’

  ‘That’s not for me to offer,’ said Sebittu at once. He turned and looked at Ria.

  ‘I heard there was a bitch in charge here,’ Balaan exclaimed in a tone of disgust.

  Trying to hide himself amongst the braves behind Balaan, Ria recognised the shifty-eyed hunter whom she’d noticed the night before. He was another of those Naveen who spoke good Merell – in fact, the two languages were closely related. Obviously he’d only stayed long enough to estimate the column’s strength and gather what tittle-tattle he could before fleeing to report to his master.

  ‘What a fucking waste of effort,’ Ria spat, pointing out the spy. She spun towards Balaan: ‘You could have stopped us any time,’ she yelled, ‘and asked me anything you wanted to know and I would have told you. You can still do that. We all face the same enemy.’

  The Naveen commander studied her in silence for what felt like a count of thirty. His eyes, hard as flints, roamed her body. ‘I don’t work with bitches,’ he said at last.

  He turned to Sebittu: ‘So, joint command – yes? You and me? But the bitch goes back where she belongs with the women and kids, otherwise no deal.’

  Ria took another step forward. ‘I’m in command here,’ she told Balaan. ‘No one else. Call me a bitch again and you’ll have to fight me.’

  Chapter Eighty-Five

  Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam! – Matt fired at point-blank range into the cayman’s monstrous armoured body but it seemed unaffected. Its heavy tail churned the muddy water into a wild foam, caught Leoni a glancing blow along her left side and shoved her under, choking and swallowing the river. She resurfaced screaming, and saw the creature’s jaws were clenched across Mary’s waist, its snaggle teeth locked into her like meat hooks. There was blood but Mary was still alive, still struggling, her face contorted with terror, and – Bam! Bam! Bam! – Matt was still firing. The cayman’s tail threshed the water like an iron flail and it shook its head from side to side with great violence. Leoni saw Mary’s poor body flipped around, her arms and legs flapping scarecrow-limp. Suddenly the monster barrel-rolled twice amidst a tremendous surge of waves and spume, and Mary was torn almost in half in an instant, blood spewing out of her in a dark mass, her guts fouling the water. Leoni got an awful glimpse of her friend’s dead eyes, frozen wide open in her last moment of horror. Then the creature carried her beneath the surface and she was gone in a swirl of blood.

  Leoni’s first thought was of self-preservation.

  With so much blood around she had to get out of this fucking river before another cayman surged from the murky depths or she was stripped to the bone by a school of piranhas. She could feel hysteria and uncontrollable panic building and began to thrash towards the bank, kicking and splashing, her skin crawling.

  ‘NO, LEONI!’ Matt yelled after her. ‘WRONG SIDE!’ He jerked so hard on her ankle that he pulled her head under. She surfaced at once, spluttering and screaming, and he grabbed her by the shoulders and steadied her just as they heard the clack clack clack clack of automatic rifle fire and the zing! bzz! splash! splat! of a swarm of bullets smacking into the water all around them.

  She looked back. At the point on the bank where they themselves had entered the river – now three hundred feet behind them, thanks to the speed of the current – their pursuers had burst out of the jungle. There were maybe a dozen, some with gringo fair hair visible even at this distance, but none showed any inclination to jump in and there was no way for them to continue the purs
uit along the overgrown bank, so they just kept shooting.

  ‘DIVE!’ Matt yelled. ‘DIVE!’ He took her hand: ‘HOLD YOUR BREATH AND DIVE!’ A bullet plucked at Leoni’s ear, she felt Matt dragging her under and she dived – Screw the piranhas – swimming blind, suddenly not caring any more.

  They surfaced and dived again.

  The next time they surfaced Leoni saw Don Leoncio just ahead but there was no sign of Esteban and Emmanuel. ‘AGAIN,’ Matt yelled.

  She held her breath and dived and when they came up for air the firing had stopped. The men back on the bank were just dots now as the river swept Leoni and Matt round a wide curve and carried them out of sight.

  They dragged themselves out of the water onto a short stretch of sandy beach a few hundred feet beyond the bend, on the opposite side of the river from their pursuers. Leoncio had got out just ahead of them.

  Leoni looked for Esteban and Emmanuel.

  ‘They didn’t make it,’ said Matt. ‘Hit by a burst of fire from the bank. At least it was quick for them, not like poor Mary.’

  ‘I’m beginning to feel like the fucking Angel of Death,’ sobbed Leoni. ‘Everyone I touch gets killed.’ She squinted at Matt and Leoncio through her tears ‘You sure you guys want to stick around?’

  Leoncio’s voice was grave: ‘To play a part in a great cosmic struggle, perhaps even to speed the victory of the light – what more could any true shaman ask? Besides, we’ve all lost good friends fighting this darkness. It would dishonour their sacrifice to give up now.’

  ‘I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life,’ said Matt. ‘I pledged to protect you.’

  Neither man had been hit. Leoni had a piece the size of a dime missing from her right ear, a burning groove across the top of her skull, and a row of aching bruises down her side from her shoulder to her hip, but she knew how fortunate she was to be alive.