His body tensing, Jake looked down through a window and saw a clutch of new arrivals talking to Van.
Nobblar was there. Basko by his shoulder. They both looked a little worse for wear. Beyond them, at the rear of the group, was a man that made Jake’s skin crawl. His brother Fashon stood leaning against a sandstone pillar with an air of mild disdain. The tight ball of anxiety in Jake’s chest became malignant.
He might’ve guessed his brother would be vindictive enough to follow his trail. It wasn’t enough that Jake had ripped away his sympathetic circuitry - Fashon would demand to know why. The psychopath would happily kill him if the answer wasn’t satisfactory. To engage in any kind of discussion would be like entering a thick, lethal swamp.
The man standing beside Fashon had a shock of orange hair and a smug expression. Jake’s rapid assessment pegged Ginger Boy as a duellist and Fashon’s new play thing.
To Ginger Boy’s left stood two women that Jake knew intimately. The tall one was a cybomancer and Jake’s former lover - Sweet Jean was her name. She was broad-shouldered and muscular, with a broken, scarred face. Her short hair was blond and lank.
The duellist in this dreaded tandem was Jake’s sister Verity. Her jet black hair curled all the way to her lower back. Folks said she was pretty in a luscious way, and Jake supposed she had a certain allure. Her large brown eyes were devastatingly expressive when she allowed them to be. Right now she was looking intently at Van in that faintly expectant way of hers.
The tattooed monk was gesturing amiably, eyes twinkling with mirth. Jake didn’t doubt he was having the time of his life. Of course, none of the tandems had much chance of leaving the valley alive. Under the eaves of the first floor, several monks looked on with dull eyes. Troops that Van could call on if needed.
Nobblar’s expression almost made Jake smile - it was one of vague disgust tempered by the knowledge that he had walked into a dangerous, unpredictable place. And yet that was the only positive Jake could take from the new situation. Would Van allocate rooms to the visitors? Would Jake and Mandie be given up as a peace offering?
If Van had any sense at all he’d confine the newcomers to a prison cell and leave them to rot. Fidelis Prime had a dirty secret. One that wouldn’t be allowed to travel off-planet. If Ajon Prime knew the state of this monastery he would have intervened already. And trying to recruit all six newcomers was an impossible task. Besides, two of them were female and would cause problems amongst the men.
Jake cursed under his breath - everything now rested on a knife’s edge. There were two ways of looking at this new development - crisis or opportunity. Jake adopted the latter perspective, finding it didn’t really make him feel better.
12
He rushed down the corridor and descended the northeast stairwell. Thankfully the passage was deserted. He knocked on Mandie’s door urgently.
“It’s Jake,” he said. “We need to go.”
Mandie stepped into the corridor. Her face was ashen.
“They threatened to rape me if I didn’t open the door, she said. “Someone ordered them away just as they were about to knock it down.”
“Bastards,” Jake said furiously, holding Mandie close. “It’s over now.”
“What’s happening?”
“Three tandems have arrived,” Jake said. “Basko, Nobblar, Sweet Jean, my sister Verity, my brother Fashon. Some duellist I don’t know.”
Mandie gave Jake a look - there were too many adversaries to handle on their own.
“We need somewhere to lie low,” he said, leading her down the hallway. Van didn’t know exactly where they were, which was pretty much the only thing in their favor. Within minutes every monk in the monastery would be looking for them.
On cue, the bell tolled from the belfry. Jake wondered if Denholm himself was pulling the rope.
The cells to either side weren’t empty. Muttered oaths slithered through the doors. A monk with no arms came shuffling toward them.
“Quickly,” he said to Mandie, ushering her down the nearest stairwell.
Raised voices further down the stairs caused Jake to pull up abruptly.
“Not this one,” he said. “Come with me.”
The pair raced back up the stairs to the second level. There were several monks in the corridor so Jake did what any self-respecting duellist would do - he ran full pelt toward them. Jake brandished his pistol and cleared a path to the northern end of the corridor and down the stairwell. The pair were greeted with silence on the ground floor but Jake knew the monks would arrive within seconds.
Trying not to panic, he assessed his surroundings. A peal of laughter rang out from the courtyard - that was Fashon’s unmistakable bark. Further progress was available via three doorways. One led to the courtyard, a second to what looked like a storage room and Jake was fairly sure the third led to the kitchens.
There would be more options there, as well as an exit outside, but something made him hesitate. Fleeing through the coriolis forest was a poor plan. The monks were adept hunters and knew the valley intimately.
“Here,” Mandie said, dragging a wicker tub aside to reveal a hinged trapdoor.
“Go,” Jake said without hesitation.
Jake climbed down after Mandie and pulled the wicker tub as far as he could. Without someone up top it would be obvious someone had used the trapdoor. Hopefully they had bought themselves several minutes to find a hiding place. Jake pulled the trapdoor shut behind him and plunged them both into thick, cloying darkness. Mandie bumped into something further ahead. A shaft of light suggested she’d found a door.
“Cellar,” she reported brusquely, disappearing into the gloom. Shutting the door behind him, Jake followed her in, marking the long rows of dusty, cob-webbed wine racks and the faint lines of light leaking through the ceiling floorboards. He crept his way down the central aisle. The monks had squirreled away quite a collection of bottles but Jake doubted any were better than the crudest moonshine.
Mandie slipped through another door at the southern end of the cellar. Jake paused before following, listening hard. Nothing to suggest they were being followed. A small stone staircase rose to a door to the ground level. Jake toyed with the idea of leaving it open to throw the monks off their trail but decided it was too risky.
He continued south, seeing Mandie descend a set of rough-hewn stairs into darkness. The air here was surprisingly thick and mild. Jake had lost sight of Mandie but could hear her fumbling along the wall to his right.
“Careful,” she murmured. “There’s a breeze coming in from the floor.”
It was true - as Jake reached the end of the staircase he felt a gentle zephyr against his cheek. The smell was fleeting, but horribly foul.
“We need a light,” he said, anxiety rising in him like a king tide.
“Working on it,” Mandie puffed. There was a wrenching pop from her position at the wall. Suddenly her torso and lower jaw was illuminated. She held a candello lamp before her like a prayer candle. Candellos used slow-release powder and could last for days when activated. From the humble light cast by the lamp Jake could see sections of glistening wall behind Mandie.
“Very moist in here,” he observed. “Almost sultry.”
The duellist’s boots squelched as he walked across the soft ground. The exposed dirt was wet enough to form mud. He heard a steady trickle coming from the eastern wall.
“The water wheel,” he said, taking a few more steps.
“Jake,” Mandie said abruptly. “Don’t go any further.”
The duellist froze. Mandie moved closer, bringing the candello lamp to bear. It illuminated the edge of a circular pit. One more step and Jake would have fallen into a pitch black hole.
“Wait a second,” he said with a frown. “Why is the dirt moving?”
“That’s not dirt,” Mandie said in a tight voice, holding the lamp close. Jake’s stomach heaved. The edge of the pit was a heaving mass of maggots. A hand over her nose and mouth, Mandie inched her way arou
nd the foul hole. Jake followed, seeing the carcass of a hoofed animal. Its belly had been ripped open and was now ripe with the squirming creatures.
“… the fuck?” Jake said as he joined Mandie at the east wall. He could hear the water wheel churning on the other side.
“We’re almost under it,” he said thoughtfully. “The stream might as well be on top of us.”
The smell in the chamber was becoming unbearable. Every now and again an unholy waft would escape the pit. Mandie gagged, which triggered a lurch deep in the duellist’s own guts. What was this ghastly place? What did the monks do down here? One thing was certain - Fusar wasn’t here. And that pit was wholly unsuitable as a hiding place. He was about to suggest they move on when he heard a faint voice. From the pit.
“Who’s down there?” he called.
“You’re not a monk, are you?” a female voice asked.
“It’s Jake,” the duellist said, his relief almost overwhelming him. “I told you I’d come. How do we get down to you?”
“Use the winch,” came the tired, defeated voice. They found the rope hidden under a pile of maggots and rotten detritus. It was connected to a scum-covered handle on the wall. Jake turned it with all his strength and they heard a squeaky whine from the pit. He kept pulling and at length a wooden platform appeared. Jake held his breath in anticipation, but nothing could have prepared him for what lay on top.
Fusar, the first live Jaj Jake had ever seen, lay on her side. A series of canisters had been arranged around the edge of the platform. They were all connected via transparent tubes to her midriff.
“Seven hells,” Mandie blurted.
The Jaj looked away, ashamed. She looked young, barely out of puberty.
“What the hell is this?” Jake said angrily, kneeling next to the prone woman. “What have they done to you?”
“Please,” Fusar begged, eyes on one of the canisters.
Jake nodded and detached each canister in turn. They were filled with a thick, viscous liquid. The monks had been milking her. He swallowed his cold fury, knowing it wouldn’t help Fusar right now.
“Your arms,” Mandie breathed, stepping behind Fusar. The girl’s arms were bound at her back.
“Be careful,” she panted. “I think I’m locked.”
“So much for no technology,” Jake said in disgust. “Quantum lock, code-shielded.”
Mandie nodded. “It’s an old one,” she said. “I can crack it.”
“Make it quick,” Jake said. “The monks will be here soon.”
Jake locked eyes with Fusar. He wasn’t sure whether he was sorry for taking so long, or sorry that his own kind had abused her in the worst possible way.
Fusar looked far too exhausted for sorrow and regret in any case. Jake banished the emotions from his mind - there would be time for that later.
“It’s good to see you, Jake,” the Jaj said in a faint voice. “But you know how to keep a girl waiting.”
The duellist could’ve filled the rancid pit with his tears. Before he could reply there was a click and Mandie snorted with satisfaction. The Jaj began removing the tubes attached to her torso. Jake darted up the stairwell and listened at the door. There were faint shouts from the ground level. Their pursuers would arrive at any moment.
By the time Jake returned, Fusar had buttoned the soiled shift she was wearing. She was shorter than he’d expected, but was very solid. If she ever had cause to barrel into him, he doubted he’d be conscious enough to know how it felt. Her face was petite, with a long, sloping nose and deeply lined brown skin.
The famous magenta anjar braids were tied together and cascaded to her shoulders. Jake caught himself staring and checked himself. Anjar braids were the defining characteristic of the Jaj. Well, that and the sheer size of the males.
Though the braids looked like thick hair follicles, they were actually highly sensitive extensions of the Jaj brain. Male braids tended to be rather drab in color but the increasingly rare females sported vibrant, attractive colors.
Free of the horrible milking equipment, Fusar stood before Jake, her gaze lowered.
“Fusar,” he said, feeling inadequate. “I have a million questions, but we need to leave now.”
The Jaj nodded. “I understand. The only way out is back the way you came.”
Jake looked up the stairwell with trepidation. “What’s down in the pit?” he asked. “Air is coming through there.”
Fusar retched violently against the wall. It was mostly bile. The girl hadn’t been fed properly for quite some time.
“There’s nothing down there,” she said.
Jake considered the foul-smelling hole. He was sure there was a network of tunnels down there. Tunnels that had something to do with the terraces out in the forest.
“What’s down there, Fusar?” he asked again, looking at the wall that held the stream at bay.
“Worms,” she replied, her voice trembling. “The monks say they’ve been down there since the last Trandian Ice Age.”
Jake blinked. Those worms must be big to cause so much upheaval. The duellist didn’t have time to get a handle on these creatures - all he really wanted to know was what they meant to the monks.
“What would happen if I flooded that hole?” he asked, looking around for a tool of some kind.
Fusar’s dead eyes momentarily came alive. “The entire colony would rise,” she said in wonder. “The water might even reach the queen.”
“Get your pistol ready, Mandie,” Jake muttered, standing poised with Love and Lust.
“Wait,” Fusar said. “There’s a sledgehammer in the cellar. The monks use it to hammer stakes into the mud.”
“I’ll go,” Jake said, already halfway up the stairs.
He opened the door an inch, praying it didn’t squeak. The cellar was silent. He moved forward in a crouch, his hamstrings screaming at him. The sledgehammer was standing in the corner with a shovel, some buckets, a bundle of stakes. He hefted the heavy tool and scurried back down into the pit room.
“Stand back,” he muttered as he sized up the moist eastern wall. Mandie had left the candello lamp on the floor so he could at least aim his blows. Pivoting his hip for extra force, he landed the hammer into the middle of the wall and jarred his arms. Ignoring the spine-tingling pain, he continued to rain blows on the same spot.
In the confined space the noise seemed immense - there was no surer way of advertising their position. But, as Jake kept telling himself, this was a crisis play.
In between blows Jake heard the piercing retort of Mandie’s blaster. The monks had found them.
13
“Keep going!” Mandie yelled above the din. Jake glanced over his shoulder to check on Fusar - she was huddled in the corner.
He renewed his attack on the wall. The craftsmanship was beyond doubt, but nothing could resist the prolonged attention of a sledgehammer. On the twelfth blow a clutch of stones tumbled free, allowing water to gush into the chamber. Saturated, Jake kept plugging away, grinning like a madman.
Within seconds he’d opened up a gap roughly four yards across. A torrent of stream water cascaded into the pit, ricocheting against the sides and disappearing into the sultry, meaty darkness. Fusar leaned over the hole, her eyes alive with malicious glee. Jake didn’t like that look at all - it suggested that the tunnel’s inhabitants were not going to be happy.
Mandie peeled off several shots from the top of the stairs, for the moment keeping the monks at bay.
“Through the wall!” Jake yelled above the flow of water. Mandie nodded and scrambled down the steps. Fusar stepped forward gingerly, clearly unused to being upright.
“Just let yourself rise to the surface,” Jake said. “Wait for me in the trees.”
A familiar face appeared in the doorway - Van. He bounded like lightning down the steps, showing elite agility for such a muscular man. The Blue Orchid merc wasn’t able to whip her gun around in time and received a front kick to the sternum. Breathless, she staggered back ag
ainst the wall.
Before Van could press home his attack Jake stepped between the pair, turning side-on to the monk’s closed fist. It struck him painfully in the shoulder. Ignoring the pain, Jake crouched low and tried to sweep the monk’s legs with his forearm.
Van wasn’t there. Overbalancing, Jake fell forward into the mud. He barely had time to register this indignity before his skull seemed to cave in. Van had hit him hard. Would’ve been a killing blow for other men, but Jake was a hardy specimen. Wondering if his cranium had been fractured, Jake tried to move but was pinned down by the astonishingly strong monk.
“I gave you a chance to examine your soul,” Van said in the duellist’s ear. “Just like I have.”
Jake braced himself for an attack that never came. Instead there was a meaty clunk and Van fell on top of him. Mandie hauled him to his feet, holding the sledgehammer with her free hand. Half of Van’s scalp was a mat of thick blood and gore. Incredibly, he was still alive, and tried to claw his way across the mud to Jake.
“Climb through,” the duellist instructed Mandie. A section of wall collapsed under the weight of water, reinforcing the voluminous flow into the pit.
“Quickly!” Jake said. Mandie obeyed, forcing herself into the gap and stroking powerfully. Jake had Lust in his hand as a pair of monks appeared at the top of the stairs. A few blasts dissuaded them from making a kamikaze run like Van had.
The last thing Jake heard as he pushed himself through the wall of water was a high-pitched squeal from the pit. That was the sound of angry, frightened animals.
The stream was frighteningly cold. Jake felt his extremities go numb as he launched himself through the water profile. The water wheel loomed large and he was forced to duck underneath it. On the far side of the hulking mass he saw the bright, shimmering surface and bulleted toward it. He broke free with a savage intake of air.
He stroked instinctively for the eastern bank, climbing over a bed of coriolis needles and collapsing behind a sturdy trunk. His head throbbed from Van’s blow but he seemed reasonably intact. Several shouts could be heard from inside the courtyard but there was no activity along the stream banks.
The Emerald Duellist (Five Empires Book 2) Page 10
