The Seventh Scroll tes-2

by Wilbur Smith

  main concern is to get out of the gorge and back to civilization."

  He looked up the slope. The trail above them had been obliterated

  beneath the rock fall. "We can't get back that way," he told her, and

  took her hand. But when he lifted her to her feet she gasped and quickly

  shifted her weight to her right leg.

  My knee!" Then she smiled bravely. "It will be all right.)

  However, she was limping heavily as they scrambled down to the rivet,

  terrified that their movements would set off another rock slide. They

  ended up waist'deep in the water under the bank.

  Royan stood behind Nicholas and washed the blood and dust from the wound

  in his scalp. "Not too bad," she told him. "Doesn't need a stitch."

  "I have a tube of Betadyne in my pack," he said. He fished it out, and

  she smeared the wound with the yellow brown ointment before binding it

  up with the Paisley bandana.

  "That will do." She patted his shoulder.

  "Thank the Lord for my burn-bag,'Nicholas remarked as he zipped it

  closed. "At least we have a few essentials with us. Now our next job is

  to look for any other survivors."

  "Tamte!'she exclaimed.

  They floundered along the bank. The river was clogged with loose rock

  and earth that had fallen from the cliff. In the deeper places they were

  forced in up to their armpits, and Nicholas carried his pack at arm's

  length above his head. The loose rock was treacherous, and gave way

  under them when they tried to scramble out of the water to search for

  the other members of the caravan.

  They found the bodies of two of the monks, both of them crushed and

  half-buried. They did not even attempt to dig them free. One of the

  mules lay with one leg in the air and the rest of its body completely

  covered with broken rock. The pack that it had carried had burst open

  and the contents were scattered about. The rolled skin and trophies of

  the dik-dik had been churned into the muck. Nicholas rescued them and

  strapped them on to his burn-bag.

  "More to carry,'Royan warned him.

  "Only a pound or two, but worth it," he replied.

  They made their way towards the point below the itail where they had

  last seen Tamre and Aly. But though they searched for almost an hour

  they found no sign of either of them. The slope above them was

  devastated: raw ravaged earth, great rocks shattered, bushes and trees

  uprooted and smashed to kindling.

  Royan climbed as high as her injured leg enabled her, then cupped her

  hands around her mbuth and shouted, "Tamre I Tamre! Tamre!" The echoes

  took her cry and flung it from' all to valley wall.

  "I think he is done for. The poor little devil has been buried,'

  Nicholas called up to her. "We have been at it an hour now. We cannot

  afford more time, if we are to get out ourselves. We will have to leave

  him."

  She ignored him and worked her way along the rockslide, loose scree

  rolling under her feet, and he could see that the knee was giving her

  pain.

  "Tamre! Answer me," she called in Arabic. "Tamre!

  Where are you?"

  "Royan! That's enough. You are going to damage that knee even more. You

  are putting both of us at risk now.

  Give it up!'

  At that moment they both heard a soft groan from higher up the slope.

  Royan scrambled up towards the sound, slipping and sliding back almost

  as far as she climbed, but at last she gave a cry of horror. Nicholas

  dumped his pack and went up after her. When he reached her side, he too

  dropped to his knees.

  Tam-re was pinned down in the rubble. His face was barely recognizable.

  It was torn and lacerated, with half the skin ripped off. Royan had

  lifted his head into her lap, and was using her sleeve to wipe the filth

  out of his nostrils to allow him to breathe more freely. Blood was

  oozing from the corner of his mouth, and when he groaned again it welled

  up in a fresh flood. Royan dabbed at it, smearing it across his chin.

  His lower body was buried, and Nicholas tried to clear the broken rock;

  but almost immediately he realized the futility of it. A lump of raw

  rock the size of a billiard table lay across him. It weighed many tons,

  and must certainly have crushed his spine and pelvis. No single man

  would be able to move that massive weight unaided. Even if it were

  ossible, the grinding action of any movement would inevitably aggravate

  the terrible injuries that Tamre had already sustained.

  "Do something, icky," Royan whispered. "We have to do something for

  him."

  Nicholas looked at her and shook his head. Royan's eyes flooded with

  tears, and they broke over her lower lids and scattered like raindrops

  into Tamre's upturned face, diluting the blood to the pink of ros6 wine.

  "We can't just sit here and let him die," she Protested, and at the

  sound of her voice Tamre opened his eyes and looked into her face.

  He smiled through the blood, and that smile lit his dusty, broken face.

  "Ummee!" he whispered. "You are my mother. You are so kind. I love you,

  my mother."

  The words were bitten off and a spasm stiffened his body. His face

  contorted with agony and he gave a soft, strangled cry, and then

  slumped. The rigidity went out of his shoulders and his head rolled to

  one side.

  Royan sat for long time holding his head and weeping softly, but

  bitterly, until Nicholas touched her hand and said EentIv. "He is dead,

  Royan."

  She nodded. "I know. He held on just long enough to say goodbye to me."

  He let her mourn a little longer, and then he told her softly, "We must

  go, my dear."

  "You are right. But it is so hard to leave him here. He never had

  anybody. He was so alone. He called me mother.

  I think he truly loved me."

  "I know he did," Nicholas assured her, lifting the boy's dead head from

  her lap and helping her to her feet. "Go wait for me. I will cover him

  the best I can." down an Nicholas crossed Tamre's hands upon his chest,

  and folded his fingers around the silver crucifix that hung around his

  neck. Then he piled loose rock carefully over him, covering his head so

  that the crows and vultures could not reach him.

  He slid down to where she waited in the water, and slung his pack over

  one shoulder.

  "We must go on," he told Royan.

  She wiped away the tears with the back of her hand and nodded. "I am

  ready now."

  They waded upstream, pushing hard against the current. The rock-slide

  had blocked half the river bed and the waters squeezed through the gap

  that was left. When at last they reached the point on the bank above the

  avalanche, they climbed out of the river and picked their way up the

  steep bank until at last they could crawl out on to the intact section

  of the pathway.

  They took a moment to recover and looked back. The river below the

  rock-slide was running red-brown with mud. Even if the monks at the

  monastery downstream had not heard the explosions, they would be alarmed

  by that flood of discoloured water and would come to investigate.

  They would find
the bodies and take them down for decent burial. That

  thought comforted Royan a little as they struck out along the trail,

  with two days' hard travel still ahead of them.

  Royan was limping heavily now, but each time Nichoto help her she

  brushed his hand away. "I am all right. It's just a bit stiff." She

  would not allow him to inspect the knee, but kept on stubbornly along

  the trail ahead of him.

  They marched mostly in silence for the rest of that day. Nicholas

  respected her grief and was grateful for her reticence. This ability to

  be quiet and yet not give out a sense of alienation and withdrawal to

  those around her was one of the qualities he admired in her. They spoke

  briefly late that afternoon while they paused to rest beside the path.

  "The only consolation is that now Pegasus will believe that we are

  safely buried under the rock-slide and they won't bother to come looking

  for us again. We can push on without wasting time scouting the trail

  ahead," Nicholas told her.

  They camped that night below the escarpment, just before the path began

  the climb up the vertical wall.

  Nicholas led her well off the path, into a heavily wooded gully, and

  built a small screened fire that could not be seen from the trail.

  Here at last she relented and allowed him to examine her knee. It was

  bruised and swollen, and hot to the touch.

  "You shouldn't be walking on this," he told her.

  "Do I have any option?" she asked, and he had no reply. He wetted his

  bandana from the water bottle and bound up her leg As tightly as he

  dared without cutting Off the circulation. Then he found a phial of

  Brufen in his burn-bag and made her take two of these anti,

  inflaminatories.

  "It feels better already," she told him.

  They shared the last bar of survival -rations from his pack, sitting

  hunched up over the fire and talking quietly, still subdued and shaken

  by their experiences.

  "What will happen when we reach the top?" Royan asked. "Will the trucks

  still be parked where we left them?

  Will the men that Boris left to guard them still be there?

  What will happen if we run into the men from Pegasus again?"

  "I can't give you any answers. We will just have to face each problem as

  it comes up."

  "One thing I am looking forward to when we reach Addis Ababa - reporting

  the massacre of Tamre and the others to the Ethiopian police. I want

  Helm and his gang to pay for what they have done."

  He was quiet for a while before he replied. "I don't know if that is the

  wisest thing to do," he ventured at last.

  "What do you mean? We. were witnesses to murder.

  We cannot let them get away with it."

  "Just remember that we want to return to Ethiopia. If we make a huge

  fuss now, we will have the entire valley swarming with troops and

  police. It may put an end to our further attempts to solve Taita's

  riddle, and to trace the tomb of Marnose."

  "I hadn't thought of that," she said thoughtfully. "But still, it was

  murder, and Tamre-'

  "I know, I know," he soothed her. "But there are more certain ways of

  wreaking vengeance on Pegasus than trying to turn them over to Ethiopian

  justice. Consider for the moment the fact that Nogo is working with

  Helm. We saw him in the helicopter. If Pegasus have an army colonel in

  their pay, who else is working for them? The police? The head of the

  army? Members of the cabinet? We just don't know at this stage."

  "I hadn't thought about that either," she admitted.

  "Let's begin to think African from here on, and take a leaf out of

  Taita's scrolls. Like him we must be devious and cunning. We don't go

  rushing in shouting accusations. If we could just sneak out of the

  country, leaving everybody to believe that we are buried under the

  avalanche, that might be ideal. It would make our return to the gorge

  that much easier. Unfortunately I don't think we will be able to get

  away with that. But from now on, we should be as cagey and careful as

  circumstances permit."

  She stared into the dancing flames for a long while, then sighed and

  asked, "You said there is a better vengeance to he had on Pegasus. What

  did you have in mind?"

  "Why, simply whisking Marnose's treasure out from under their noses."

  She laughed for the first time that long cruel day. "You are right, of

  course. Whoever owns Pegasus wants it desperately enough to kill for it.

  We must hope that depriving him of it will hurt him almost as badly as

  he has hurt us."

  Both of them were so tired that it was already half-light'when they woke

  the next morning.

  As soon as Royan tried to stand she groaned and sank back. He went to

  her immediately, and she made no protest when he placed her bare leg

  across his lap.

  He unwrapped the bandana, and frowned as he saw the knee. It was nearly

  twice its normal girth, and the bruising was plum and ripe grape. He wet

  the bandana again, and rewrapped the knee. He made her take the last two

  Brufen from the phial, and then helped her to her feet.

  "How does it feel?" he asked anxiously, and she hobbled a few paces and

  smiled at him bravely.

  "It will be all right as soon as I walk the stiffness out of it, I'

  sure."

  He looked up the escarpment. So close in under the wall, the height was

  foreshortened, but he recalled every tortuous step of the way. It had

  taken them a full day to come down.

  "Of course it will." He smiled encouragement at her, and took her arm.

  "Lean on me. It'll be a stroll in the park.

  They toiled upwards all that morning. The trail seemed to rise more

  steeply with every pace they took. She never complained, but she was

  ashen pate and sweating with the pain. By midday they had not yet

  reached the waterfall, and Nicholas made her stop to rest. They had

  nothing to eat, but she drank thirstily from the water bottle. He did

  not try to ration her, but limited himself to a single mouthful.

  When she tried to rise, and go on, she gasped and staggered so violently

  that she might have fallen if he had not steadied her.

  "Damn! Damn! Damn!" she swore bitterly. "It's stiffened up on me."

  "Never mind," he said cheerfully, and stripped his bumbag of all but the

  most crucial items of equipment. He kept the dik-dik skin, however,

  rolling it into a tight ball and stuffing it into the bag. Then he

  rebuckled it around his waist, and grinned at her cheerfully. "Skinny

  little thing like you. Hop on my back."

  "You can't carry me up there." She looked up the trail, steep as a

  ladderway, and was aghast.

  "It's the only train leaving from this station," he told her, and

  offered her his back. She crawled up on to' it.

  "Don't you think you should dump the dik-dik skin?" she asked.

  "Perish the thought!" he said, and started up.

  It was slow and heavy-going. After a while he had nothing left over for

  talking, and he trudge' upwards in dogged silence. Sweat drenched his

  shirt, but she found neither the wet warmth of it that permeated her

  blouse on to her own skin, n
or the strong masculine odour of it

  offensive. Instead, it was comforting and reassuring.

  Every half hour he stopped until his breathing became regular and even

  again. Then he opened his eyes and grinned at her.

  "Hi ho, Silver!" He pushed himself to his feet, and bowed his back for

  her to scramble aboard.

  As the day wore on, his jokes became more forced and feeble. By late

  afternoon the pace was down to an exhausted plod, and at the more

  difficult places he had to pause and gather himself before stepping up.

  She tried to help him by climbing down from his back, and supporting

  herself on his shoulder as they struggled over the more arduous pitches,

  but even with this respite she knew that he was burning up the very last

  of his strength.

  Neither of them could truly credit their achievement when they reeled

  around another corner of the track and saw before them the waterfall,

  spilling down like a white lacy curtain across the trail. Nicholas

  staggered into the cavern behind the sheet of falling water and lowered

  her to the floor. Then he collapsed and lay like a dead man.

  It was dark when he had at last recovered sufficiently to open his eyes

  and sit up. While he was resting Royan had gathered'some wood from the

  monks' stockpile and managed to get a small fire going.

  "Good girl," he told her. "If ever you want a job as a housekeeper-

  "Don't tempt me." She hobbled over to him, and examined the cut in his

  scalp. "Nice healthy scab," she told him, and then suddenly and

  impulsively she hugged his head to her bosom and stroked his dusty,

  sweat-stiff hair off his forehead.

  "Oh, Nicky! How can I ever repay you for what you did for me today?"

  A flippant reply rose to his lips, but even in his weakened state he had

  the good sense to bite it back. He was in no state to attempt any

  further intimacy. So he lay in her embrace, enjoying the feel of her

  body against his, but not taking the risk of scaring her off with a move

  of his own.

  At last she released him gently, and sat back. "I very much regret, sir,

  that the housekeeper cannot offer you smoked salmon and champagne for

  your dinner. How about a mug of mountain water, pure and nourishing?"

  "I think we can do better than that." He took the drycell torch from his

  burn'bag, and by its beam selected a round, fist-sized stone from the

  floor of the cavern. With this in his right hand he turned the light