As they fought, as they fled, the chateau shuddered deep in its foundations. Moorings set deep in stone began to pull free. The floor tilted, and so did the view from the windows. Debris slid into Drake’s feet, pushing him back. He fought it. The house juddered again, slid a little more. Glass smashed in every window and the frames buckled. Huge shards and planks of wood tumbled down the mountain. A screaming gush of icy wind blasted inside.
Drake leapt over the debris and let it slide into the far wall. Another sickening, fundamental lurch and they felt the entire structure pulling away from the mountain, growing more unstable with each judder. Dahl sent elbow after elbow into his attacker’s face, targeting the exposed teeth and ignoring when his arm began to bleed and then his flesh began to tear off in tatters. Blood flowed, but teeth broke too, and one came away in the Swede’s arm. He ignored it as they came up against the far wall.
“It’s not the mountain wall!” Brynn cried. “C’mon!”
What she was thinking Drake didn’t know, but understood that a corridor ran behind this wall and probably alongside the face of the mountain. They ran for the door, lurching once more as the floor swayed and then grew rapidly skew-whiff. A villager fell over and began to slide. Mai caught him and dragged him up. Alicia caught her and pulled her along. Brynn reached the open door and hung on to the frame.
More structural shrieks. Drake saw the empty windows tilting, the view down now terrifying, the bottom of the valley almost visible as sunrise flashed over the mountains. He saw the madman, Dantanion, sliding straight toward the new drop and smiling, robe billowing. He grabbed the shoulder of the man who fought Dahl, a part of the human chain. Below him two more people held on—Curtis and Anica.
Brynn struggled through the door and then more villagers. Arms reached back inside to help pull the weaker folk through. Mai and Alicia helped the chain along. A chunk of masonry fell from above, followed by a bank of wiring, sparks flying from the exposed ends. A waft of flame traveled the length of the cabling. Drake punched Dahl’s opponent in the neck and felt the strength fall away from him.
Oh, shit. Why’d you have to do that?
He staggered to one knee. Drake used the right thigh to jump over, dragging Curtis and Anica along too. Dahl reached out and took hold of Drake’s arm. A scream sounded, hollow and terrifying, and another villager lost their grip of the door frame just as the house seemed to bounce. Bolts fought their anchorage, as the weight pulling against them began to prove too much.
“Drake.” Alicia reached out for Dahl and him, her expression hopeless. “There’s nowhere to go.”
And no way to stop it . . .
CHAPTER FORTY FIVE
Hayden led Kinimaka and Smyth deeper below the mountain. If Dantanion had spread the rumors of mad brothers and wandering flesh-eaters to deter the curious then he had done a decent job. Despite their caution and constant vigilance, they saw and heard nothing. They followed a trail marked by wall torches down and down, largely ignoring them when Smyth broke out some excellent flashlights that shone as far as the eye could see. Maybe the blinding lights kept the cave-dwellers away. A wide cavern with enormous stalactites was traversed and two skeletons found, clothes rotting off the bodies. Hayden marked their spot, but knew it was impossible to tell who they were right now. They pressed deeper. A sprinkling of cave dust occasionally revealed footprints, mostly shoes but also some rather unnervingly showing bare feet.
The passage rarely branched off and when it did the adjoining passages were narrow and impassable. When they found the entrance, it appeared entirely unremarkable. Just another rock wall with a narrow, ragged archway and then a right turn into a larger cave. Without the intense flashlights they might even have missed it. Hayden saw the gold glittering as the light picked out its keen edges, pure golden liquid pouring across the floor.
“Oh, wait,” she said. “I think . . . I think we found something.”
They crowded around the cave entrance, dumbstruck. The hollow stretched a long way into the rock, ran high and widened. The cave was crammed full with treasure, enough to take the breath away. Hayden struggled to take it all in, simply staring at the reflected glow.
Vases full of golden flowers, engraved masks studded with rubies and emeralds, bracelets and necklaces and sparkling anklets; daggers, short swords and headdresses; animals fashioned out of pure gold and silver; plates and bowls adorned with rubies—all comprised just a portion of what was the most incredible vision she’d ever laid eyes on. If she stared at the shimmering wealth any longer she feared it would blind or corrupt her forever.
And the centerpiece crowned it all.
A four-tiered fountain, formed from pure gold, shining like burnished sunlight on the brightest day the world had ever known, stood at the center of the cave, the lesser treasures arrayed around it. Gleaming with it, and its myriad reflections, they complimented it but stood back in awe, stunned and reverent. It took Hayden over a minute just to take it in.
“All this to ransom one man?” Kinimaka found his voice. “Gold and silver mined from the Andes mountains and then returned to them.”
Hayden looked speculative. “And I remember reading that this wasn’t the best of it. Something about the Royal Fifth.” Seeing Mano’s blank look she went on. “Twenty percent of all loot taken was reserved for the King of Spain. The ‘Quinto Real’ or Royal Fifth. Pizarro trusted only his brother, Hernando, to take the treasures they’d already stolen straight to Spain. Most were melted down, but just a few of the most exquisite pieces were left intact and displayed for a while before they too, were melted down. Such a terrible cultural loss for the world.”
Kinimaka still hadn’t turned away from the incredible golden vista. “The Incas must really have loved their king.”
Hayden nursed her finger. “And how much would you ransom for Drake? For Dahl? For me?”
The Hawaiian smiled. “I dunno. All of El Dorado?”
“Ha. Would you believe that the myth of El Dorado was inspired by this very Inca treasure that stands before us now? Europeans heard of the riches and came running, hoping to join expeditions and get rich. Tales of a king who covered himself in gold and a city whose walls were built of gold quickly spread, but many died in the steamy, disease-ridden jungles, sun-blistered plains and ice-covered mountains without seeing a single nugget. El Dorado was a shiny illusion, driven by factual stories of a genuinely glorious Inca treasure. So how much would you give?”
An insipid sensation wormed through her mind, almost as if the darkness were reaching out, trying to touch her. She ignored it, concentrating on the gold and remembering how the deeper shadows always seemed to hide the worst demons.
Kinimaka was looking at her. “How much would I give? Everything, I guess.”
“The Spanish captain, Pizarro, lost all this because he couldn’t keep it in its sheath. An old lesson, never learned.”
Something touched her hair as gently as mist. The wind? She reached back to brush it off, imagining a spider, and her fingers touched rough, bare knuckles.
“Ahh!”
It launched from off the wall, where it had been crouching in an alcove; raw, twisted arms worming a way around her neck, teeth already drooling into her face and gnashing, spraying less than an inch away from her skin. She fell back, hit the floor hard, and cracked her skull. Smyth was skipping away as if a rat pack were slipping between his legs. Mano was trying to catch up. Hayden brought her hands up fast, repulsed as she touched bare skin and dirt and sticky sweat. Her flashlight bounced to the right, aiming back down the tunnel. The teeth closed in and she pushed her head back as far as she could, straining her neck into a bow, using every ounce of strength just to keep the teeth at bay.
No way did she possess the power to throw this being off.
And now, behind them in the flare of the flashlight, she saw something else detaching itself from the ceiling above their heads, sliding down a dank piece of rope like an arachnid might slide down a web, arms and legs splaye
d.
“Jesus!” cried Smyth, seeing it too. “Flesh-eaters! Look lively.”
Hayden planted her elbows into the ground, barely managing to keep the hissing, plunging creature away. By the waving, strobing light of three battery-powered flashlights she watched Smyth and Kinimaka engage the second attacker, meeting a lunge head on and batting the head aside. A snarl crawled up the tunnel and up her spine. The thing atop her kicked at her shins and thighs with bony legs. It gritted its teeth so hard its gums began to bleed, dripping right onto her face. She wrenched her head aside, felt fangs on her cheek, thrust back with all her might. The body bore down. Her muscles shook.
Kinimaka whirled in the darkness, missing his attacker completely. Teeth latched on to his shoulder, a blow to the ribs made him scream. Smyth was right there, tearing the body away and dashing it against the wall. A crunch didn’t stop it or slow it down one bit. Kinimaka turned, breathing hard and it was back upon him, forcing him down; taut, scrawny sinew pulsing with power. Whatever Dantanion had made and cast out down here used their limbs every day—perhaps he fed them still.
Hayden tried to roll, but her assailant just thrust down again and again with savage strength and she knew her time was almost up.
“Help!”
Kinimaka jerked up at the cry, just in time to unknowingly smash his head right up under his own attacker’s jaw. Shocked and surprised, the creature fell away. Smyth launched himself atop it. Kinimaka also looked amazed, then lunged toward Hayden, scrambling in the dirt and the dust and the filth, crossing flashlight beams, his face clearly aware of nothing else but Hayden’s peril—terrified, driven, suffering.
Hayden let it all go and stopped holding the man off. His own force sent him face first into her shoulder, momentarily surprising him. Then Hayden felt teeth tearing at her jacket, skeletal fingers digging into the spaces between her ribs as if ready to pull her insides out. Maybe they were, but Kinimaka bowled into it then like a wrecking ball striking a wooden hut. The impact was huge, the outcome devastating. Bones shattered and the figure stilled; whatever it had been was now a lifeless shell, a mockery of humanity. Hayden looked up to see Smyth climbing off the other flesh-eater, bleeding but nodding grimly.
“And there it is,” Smyth panted, nodding again at the treasure cave. “Everything, right there. Job done. We should head back now that we found it. Give the guys the good news and get reinforcements down here. No telling how many of these things are creeping around.”
“And help the team,” Hayden said. “The kids are all fine so let’s go. C’mon.”
They retraced their route, found Yorgi and Fay, and continued on toward the house. It was when Hayden walked into the cave’s living quarters that the explosions began. Smyth stopped beside her and Kinimaka took ragged breaths.
“What the hell is that?”
Above, the entire roof began to break away. It was only when Hayden saw it wrench upwards and rubble began to rain down that she realized it was the bottom foundations of the house.
And they were ripping from their moorings.
As the ceiling canted over, the caves became open to the skies and Hayden was witness to the entire chateau breaking free.
Shocked to the core, shaking uncontrollably, she fell to her knees.
CHAPTER FORTY SIX
Drake heard screams as the house no longer paused in its descent, but pulled away from the wall and started to slide down the mountain. Wreckage smashed everywhere, exploding through walls and the floor, collapsing from above. The great table slid straight through the picture window, tumbling end over end into the vast void. The only option was to run, and run they did.
Racing uphill, fighting momentum, they attacked the sloping floor like it was an enemy they sought to conquer. The far right-hand wall of the house began to crumble away. Drake saw cracks spreading everywhere, even underneath his own feet. Brynn and the villagers were already out in the corridor and, as he reached the doorway, he saw why.
Wooden panels had been ripped from the wall, hands were bleeding profusely. In other places the structure had sheered away, exposing the places where the house had been moored to the jagged rock face. These moorings were large and craggy, full of metal, rock and deep niches; torn joints and couplings. Already, several villagers had climbed inside and were pressing hard into the rock to make room for more.
Drake jumped up again and again, gaining a few feet with every leap. Dahl dragged him and the others dragged the Swede. Alicia and Mai made it through the door, then Kenzie. Curtis somehow managed to hold tight at the end of the line, barely able to walk. Then, a deep groan and the entire floor sank a bit, smashing down just a few centimeters but jarring everything that continued to hold it together. Drake lost balance, but swiftly regained it. Dahl fell to his knees, grip broken with those who pulled him up, and suddenly, terrifyingly, it was just Dahl now at the top of the line, holding out a huge hand that gripped nothing.
Nothing at all.
Dahl’s face turned from determined to stunned and destitute in the span of a heartbeat. Those below depended on him. The Swede’s muscles bulged; cords standing out along his arms, neck and forehead. His knees slipped downward in the dust and rubble. He labored even harder. Drake somehow tried to grip those below tighter whilst putting less strain on Dahl, but wasn’t entirely sure it worked. Dahl let out a tortured bellow and heaved. His knees held, his body bent upward—an inch was gained. He yelled again, scrabbled for purchase here and there—anywhere. Just a few centimeters from the wall and he took a deep breath for one enormous effort, lunged, heaved the entire line along with him and grabbed hold of the door frame, four fingers gripping the wood.
A moment’s respite, then pulling again. Drake planted his feet and heaved upward; Anica and then Curtis too. The man at the end of the line faltered, body swaying to and fro more than the others. Dahl made sure his grip was strong and hoisted the line mightily one more time.
The wooden door frame cracked around his fingers, destroyed by his grip and the pressure it was exerting. Dahl was left holding splinters.
“No! No! Bollocks!”
Only sheer, perfect balance kept them from sliding down, but even that would only last a few more seconds. As Dahl wavered and reached desperately for a solid surface that just wasn’t there, the line began to slide down the tilted floor of the house toward the broken windows and the great drop beyond. With one last superhuman effort Dahl stalled the momentum.
And saw Alicia, held by Mai, struggling through the shattered door. Holding hands, the two managed to reach out to Dahl, grab his arm and pull. Mai was joined by Kenzie in the doorway, adding her incredible strength. As Kenzie pulled, her katana fell away unnoticed, clattering down to the floor. Together, the three women pulled Dahl up through the doorway and then took responsibility for Drake, Anica and Curtis.
Drake put his back against the corridor wall that separated it from the great hall and heaved until the two villagers came through, then hugged them close.
The chateau screamed in its final death throes.
“Drake!” Alicia cried. “Run! Jump! For God’s sake, jump!”
The floor was breaking away from the mountain wall, the entire area crumbling square meter by square meter. A groaning, thunderous crash told them the other wall had torn free. Drake and the others were now standing on a ruined floor of just a few feet in width and length, exposed to both sides. The enormity of the valley beckoned below.
“The moorings!” he cried.
They leapt through empty air, hands outstretched. They caught hold of steel stanchions and bent pilings, of torn framework and half-destroyed scaffold that jutted from the mountain. The steel was still sound where it went into the rock; nothing could change that. Drake grabbed hold of a jutting piece of pipe, wrapping his hands around it. To his right Curtis managed to skip into a niche where some of the foundations had once been. The roaring of a dying beast accompanied the final destruction of the chateau. Bricks and mortar, slabs of concrete, in
credible metal support skeletons twisted free and fell away. A huge sliding skin of debris slipped part way down the mountain, crashing like a wave, rebounding again and again and smashing upon rock after rock, a great tidal wave of rubble until it swept right off a precipice and became a tumbling waterfall all the way to the valley floor.
Drake watched the slithering ruins. “That’s why it didn’t fall right away,” he said. “The ground underneath wasn’t sheer. It was flat and then just a slope.”
Several grunts and groans of agreement and appreciation were sounded out. As Drake looked beneath his feet, looking for a safe place to jump down where the rock was flat and not littered with debris, he saw a familiar face staring up at him.
“ ’Kinell,” he muttered in broad Yorkshire. “Now that’s a welcome sight if ever I saw one.”
Dahl swung from one jutting bar to another, the drop and the near-miss not fazing him. “What on earth are you . . . oh, Hayden. Well, yeah, that’s odd.”
“Can you make your way down?” Hayden shouted up.
“Ropes would be better,” Drake shouted back. “Give us a minute to think it through, ’cause I guess one of has to take a risk and jump down, then clear the way for the others to land safely and—”
He stopped, because Dahl had already jumped to the nearest bed of rock and was sweeping the rubble away with his hand.
The Swede looked up. “You thought it all through yet?”
Inca Kings (Matt Drake Book 15) Page 26
