At length the valley, now extremely narrow, dog-legged again. The way into that passage required a tricky little climb up a ten-foot granite wall. Jake eventually found viable if treacherous footholds and hauled Mandie up once he’d made it. Panting heavily, he called camp under a gnarled fig tree. As the pair munched on sticks of hard-boiled kelp, they pondered the way ahead - a gently undulating eastern passage.
“Can’t be far,” Jake mused.
“If this ain’t the valley,” Mandie said, grasping for a positive, “at least we’ve run our trackers ragged.”
Jake had to smile at that. But to find nothing would be devastating. There was no evidence of groundwater here, but an above-ground rivulet was visible further down the way. He was eager to continue, his hopes intact. The eastern passage, though extremely narrow, was blessedly devoid of boulders.
And yet a new danger had emerged - the ground was slick with moss and dangerous underfoot. Worse still, the north bank was heaped with scree. Jake found it nigh impossible to walk on those smooth pebbles, finding himself flat on his back more than once. It was easier to walk through the water.
Frustrated by their lack of progress, Jake maintained a stony silence for an hour and a half before the passage officially became a steep-sided ravine. The pair inched their way across slick granite sheeted with ice-cold water. At least now they could use one of the sheer walls to keep balance.
Jake could only imagine the injuries the monks sustained carrying heavy gear through this passage. A pleasant breeze from the south lifted his spirits as they edged forward through the chasm.
Ahead, Jake could see the distant plain trending to a hazy horizon. His wrist pad told him they were more than 1400 feet above sea level. It was certainly harder to suck oxygen up here. All the duellist could do was concentrate on his footing and keep his head down. He tried to regulate his breathing and maintain a clear head.
The pair finally emerged onto a goat track that hugged an imposing, white-capped peak to the west. They had effectively circumvented its base and were now on a path that spiraled its upper slopes. The track was extremely narrow - barely wide enough for walking.
Jake needed to inch his way along, his back to the sheer granite mountain wall. The drop to the east was severe for around ten yards, then eased out into a slope of small pebbles. The scree extended for another two hundred yards before hitting a lowland forest.
The bottle green coriolis pine filled a cauldron-shaped valley that had no visible exit. It was a classic ‘hung’ valley, the kind that remained untouched for long periods. Jake inched along the treacherous path, his hands flat against the warm, sun-kissed granite.
“The monastery,” he said quietly to Mandie. “It’s gotta be down there somewhere.”
“You think?” she replied. “We’ll break our necks.”
“There must be a little give in that scree,” Jake mused. “Otherwise that forest would be full of dead monks.”
Mandie smiled at the thought.
“If you’re wrong,” she said with twinkling eyes, “We’ll be stuck down there forever.”
“Fine,” Jake said. “Eat, drink, fuck. The way it should be.”
Mandie laughed out loud, a husky, abrasive sound that Jake was growing to love. But they still had to get down.
Jake unshouldered his pack, careful not to topple off the path.
“Use this as a sled,” he said, handing it over. “I’ll improvise.”
Mandie was about to argue but Jake shook his head.
“We don’t have time,” he pointed out. “A sniper might have us in his scope right now.”
“They’re monks,” Mandie reminded him, but she accepted the pack.
“I have a theory on doing stupid things,” she went on, studying the drop intently. “Go quickly and pray for dumb luck.”
And with that, she was gone. Holding the pack to her chest, she launched off the track and thudded against the granite wall below Jake. She skidded across the pebbles beautifully, riding the pack right to the bottom of the slope. Her joyous howl echoed and bounced off the mountain. Jake didn’t mind in the slightest - both knew that a stealthy approach was more likely to arouse suspicion and get them killed.
But Mandie wasn’t safe just yet. She scudded at high speed into the trees and disappeared. Jake swallowed, deciding that her theory on doing stupid things was fairly solid. He hurled himself from the goat track, his only plan to try and tumble-bounce somewhere near the beginning of the scree slope.
The pebbles rose to meet him with queasy speed. He struck the stones with forearm and shoulder,trying to spread the shock of impact. Pain radiated through his body as he ricocheted at least three yards into the air. Unable to control the second fall, he landed flat on his back. He gasped for breath as he was whisked down the scree.
Through bleary eyes he glimpsed the darkness of the forest before striking a hidden boulder. His body was turned around and he spun dangerously into the trees. All he could do was cover his head and hope the next impact didn’t kill him. It didn’t. His long legs hooked themselves round a tree and he slowed to a halt.
Rising feebly to his hands and knees, Jake spent a full minute regaining his breath. Even though his body throbbed in several places he didn’t seem to have any structural damage. Once his lungs were happy, he rose to his feet unsteadily and went to find Mandie. She was kneeling beside the pack, dazed but otherwise OK.
“We ain’t getting back up that slope,” she said dryly. Jake smiled, sore but flush with adrenalin.
“What next?” Mandie asked brightly, shouldering the pack.
“My guess is southeast,” Jake said, peering through the shadowy forest. “The valley can’t be more than two miles across.”
The pair began their exploration of the valley that had been so hard to reach. The forest was silent - most of Tranda’s wildlife seemed to be nocturnal. One major difference was immediately apparent, however. The terrain was terraced, as if there had been some kind of geological upheaval. As the pair stepped up and down the strange terraces, Jake wondered if the soil profile was stable.
The earth had simply collapsed in several places. Whether that process was incremental or violent, he couldn’t really tell. The coriolis trees were healthy enough and none of the deeper holes sank more than ten yards or so. Still, it was a strange phenomenon.
“There!” Mandie exclaimed, pointing to a wooden hut through the trees to the east. It was a good pick up - the dark slats of wood were almost camouflaged against the surrounding terrain.
Jake felt his heart soar. This valley must be the place! He realized he was grinning like a madman as he followed Mandie to investigate. Jake’s wrist pad crackled as they approached.
It was Fusar and she sounded panicked.
“I’m here,” Jake replied. “I found the valley. Are you in trouble?”
“Fusar, just sit tight and I’ll come get you.”
“I’m workin’ on that,” Jake said, deciding that he needed to meet this ‘Van’. “You’ll hear from me soon, Fusar. I promise.”
Jake killed the com, his heart dying a little. There was no time to lose. He rushed past Mandie and to the front of the cabin. He kicked open the door furiously, listening for telltale signs of movement. Nothing. He ventured beyond the door, wrinkling his nose at the smell.
It was a smokehouse. Several haunches of a deer-like mammal hung from hooks in the ceiling A shallow pit in the floor contained hundreds of coals. It was rudimentary but judging from the intense smell, effective.
“Jake,” urged Mandie from outside. He found her by a locked cabinet at the side of the hut. Jake kicked the doors in with brutal efficiency, stepping back as a clutch of plasma rifles clattered out. They were old, almost antique, but clearly in working order.
<
br /> The duellist hefted one and looked down the reflex scope. Good craftsmanship, if a little raw. Probably built right here in the valley.
Jake aimed the weapon at a nearby shrub and fired multiple shots in quick succession. The foliage started to smoke, then burn. The hunting rifle was built for silence and wouldn’t have been heard by anyone beyond twenty yards. But the smoke plume would be seen by anyone paying attention.
“We don’t have time to explore,” Jake muttered, tossing the rifle away. He drew both his beloved plasma pistols and raised them in the air. Keeping his arms aloft, he headed due south with Mandie at his side. She also had her gun raised but looked none too happy about it.
The pair walked for several minutes but all they encountered was a slight breeze stirring the pine fronds. Beginning to feel a little silly, Jake lowered his arms slightly, wondering if he’d gotten things wrong. If the monastery wasn’t here, the Fidelis Prime monks had missed a golden opportunity. The valley was hidden from below and probably from above also. It was protected from the prevailing winds and well supplied with water. There was good, hard timber and, judging from the smoking cabin, meat to be hunted. Who had built that?
“We welcome you,” came a deep male voice.
10
Jake and Mandie turned slowly. There were several grey-robed monks standing amongst the trees. None of them held weapons, but Jake wasn’t prepared to doubt their combat skills. They’d already demonstrated an ability to move through the forest like ghosts. The duellist made sure his arms were raised high.
“We mean you no harm,” he said in a calm voice. “We’re here as penitents.”
The speaker cocked his head. Jake wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but this monk wasn’t it. He was tall and willowy like most Nostroma, and every square inch of exposed flesh was covered in religious tattoos. His face was particularly harsh. Stone eyes, furrowed brow, flat, anvil nose that looked as though it’d been broken several times.
“Long way to come to be … penitent,” the monk said with a knowing smile. “But Fidelis Prime is here to serve.”
Jake nodded, content to say nothing further. He wanted to absorb as much as he could before playing his next card. The monk stepped forward and thrust a hard, calloused hand forward.
“I’m Van,” he said in his honeyed baritone. “Allow me to take you to the Abbot.”
Jake nodded, glad he hadn’t been met with outright hostility. It was rumored that these remote monasteries could go entire decades without visitors or even external communication.
Eyes alert, Jake was happy to fall in line with the monks. Many of the others looked just as weathered as Van. Some had blood lesions on their faces, and two of them were missing hands. The duellist filed the observation away for now, prepared to put it down to coincidence. Judging from her questing eyes, Mandie had noticed the same thing.
The monks escorted the pair to the south. Van took point and walked at a brisk pace. The monks were clearly quite fit and accustomed to the uneven forest terrain.
Before long Jake got his first look at the monastery itself. An ocher wall was visible through the trees. Van led the party through a moist, dark tunnel overhung with vines. At length they emerged into bright sunlight. Jake needed to blink several times before his eyes could adjust.
He was standing in a courtyard bordered by three storeys of intricate Gyllisian architecture. He marveled at the classic beauty on display. Many cultures had tried and failed to replicate the challenging style. The elegant archways and cool balconies seemed to suit the rugged, sunny atmosphere of the valley.
Van was looking at Mandie with an expression that sent chills down his spine. A man he would need to watch, no doubt.
Mandie seemed as entranced with her surroundings as Jake was. A couple of chickens clucked in the dust, disturbed by the new arrivals. Starting from one of the corners, the monks had begun work on a colorful mosaic. Each tile couldn’t have been larger than an inch across. A pair of monks were laying tiles in their correct position. They were surrounded by trays filled with various dyes and putties.
“A little project to keep the men in touch with their physical selves,” Van murmured. “The labor compliments prayer and meditation.”
One of the workers was the third man Jake had seen missing a limb.
“I admire your devotion,” he said in a bland tone. “It must get hot out here.”
“Our dedicates can handle a little sunlight,” Van assured him. Jake thought he heard a slight note of derision in the monk’s tone.
“Come,” the monk went on. “Abbot Reed is available to see you.”
Van ushered Jake and Mandie into the shadowy space that lined the courtyard at ground level. Again, Jake’s eyes needed several moments to adjust. He got a slight shock when he was confronted with several placid monks lounging on a long wooden bench.
Some looked at the visitors blankly, others smoked rustic pipes and contemplated the sun-kissed courtyard. Many sported lesions on their faces, arms and legs. Jake wanted desperately to investigate but wondered if the subject was a sensitive one.
Was there an apex predator in these mountains? Perhaps a local species of mountain lion? Or were these men suffering from some kind of degenerative disease?
Jake focused on Van’s muscular back as they ascended a wide flight of stairs to the top level. He found himself in an austere corridor lit by coal braziers. He knew certain monastic orders tended to avoid technology where possible, but this place appeared to be completely power-independent. It said much about the philosophy of the place.
Van sauntered to a heavy door and knocked once.
“Enter,” came a sonorous voice from within.
Van gestured to the room, a curious glint in his eye.
“The Abbot awaits,” he said softly.
Jake met his gaze and said nothing, waiting for Mandie to step inside first.
The interior of the room was about as spartan as Jake expected. A polished wooden cabinet squatted in the rear corner and contained a number of rectangular data troves. It was the first concession to technology Jake had seen so far. The Abbot himself turned from his desk by the window. He was a bald, scrawny man with black-rimmed glasses. He didn’t sport any of the lesions and deformities of the other monks.
“The mountains throw us exotic objects at times,” the Abbot said with a tinge of regret.
Jake extended his hand. “Jake Le Sondre,” he said. “This is Mandie Flane.”
“I apologize,” Reed said, standing and accepting Jake’s hand weakly. “We don’t get many visitors here.”
“It’s a monastery,” Jake said lightly. “If anyone should apologize, it’s me.”
“How did you get here?” the Abbot asked once Jake and Mandie had seated themselves in plain wooden chairs. “Has one of the passes opened up?”
“I think we followed the original trail,” Jake said. “And I do believe it was as difficult as it’s always been.”
The Abbot’s shoulders sagged in relief. “I’m glad to hear it,” he murmured. “What can I do for you? Off-worlders occasionally crash on the plain but we normally see them heading south to The Anchorage.”
Jake nodded. This man was no fool. To trek all the way up here was to want something from Fidelis Prime. And yet he wasn’t sure how to approach this critical moment.
There was something dank about Reed’s office. The windows were shut even though it was a glorious day. From the look of them they hadn’t been opened in years. Trails of mold snaked from the ceiling. The building might have been glorious once, but the monks had let it drift into a forlorn, decrepit state. A state mirrored in their own eyes.
There was something wrong about this place.
“I’ve come to relieve you of a burden,” Jake said carefully, figuring he would tell the truth from the outset. Instinct suggested that the monks would grow more suspicious with every hour that he stayed. Taking a direct approach would yield the result he was after. Especially with six deadly Nos
troma climbing the mountain in his wake.
“Everyone is burdened,” the Abbot said with a faint smile. “To what do you refer?”
“There’s a Jaj girl in this monastery,” Jake said. “It’s time she went home.”
The Abbot sniffed and scratched his nose.
“Supposing you are correct about this,” he began in a thin voice. “One cannot simply arrive on our doorstep and demand such things. I’ve yet to even see your credentials.”
Jake leaned back in his chair. His gamble had back-fired, but at least his cards were on the table.
“You can’t keep her against her will,” Jake said.
“I’m afraid it’s not as simple as that,” the Abbot said, unable to meet Jake’s gaze. “The girl came to us at a very young age and has developed a serious mental illness. We have done everything we can to meet her needs. Removing her could be disastrous.”
“What’s her name, Abbot?” Mandie asked in a hard tone.
Jake’s smiled inwardly. It was the perfect question.
The Abbot blinked and looked away. Jake began to wonder if the man had full control over the facility or the monks.
“She came to us in a bad way,” Reed said. “We encouraged her to let go of the past and embrace her future with us.”
“Bullshit,” Jake said tersely. “Her name is Fusar. Something a man with her best interests at heart should know.”
The Abbot recoiled from the duellist’s fury, aghast at how the conversation was going. Jake regretted that things had to get ugly, but Mandie had been right to expose this weak bastard. No amount of patient negotiation was going to get the job done here.
Jake’s trigger fingers twitched and he immediately began appraising the stale office as a possible holdout position. And yet, as he looked deep into the old monk’s rheumy eyes, he knew he didn’t stand a chance of surviving a pitched battle against these strange men.
For all he knew Van was standing just outside the door. He seemed to know how to handle himself.
“Look,” Jake said with a deep breath. “We’ve come here in good faith. You know what we want. Our business with Fusar is our own. All you need to know is that she’s willing to leave.”
The Emerald Duellist (Five Empires Book 2) Page 8
