Ready for Anything, Anywhere!

by Beverly Barton

  “You were brought to the palace of Lord Baruti yesterday,” one of the women replied.

  Yesterday? That meant she had been asleep—unconscious—for at least twenty-four hours. She vaguely recalled seeing a white light hit Mick and then her father. She had been the last struck with the weapon. A tranquilizer of some kind? If so, it certainly was powerful, to produce such a long-lasting effect.

  “Lord Baruti is the high priest, isn’t he?”

  “Yes,” another answered.

  “I was brought here with two men. Where are they?”

  “The men are in another area of the palace,” a third woman responded. “You will join them for an audience with Lord Baruti.”

  “When?” Gwen asked.

  “Before the sun reaches a midpoint in the heavens,” the fourth woman told her. “We have come to prepare you for the ceremony.”

  “The ceremony?” Gwen’s stomach tightened.

  All four women smiled, but only the first one spoke, as if they had to take turns. “The Ceremony of Olumfemi. Those who are sacrificed are the beloved of the gods. Even those who have done great evil find redemption in death.”

  Chapter 16

  On the trek to Mount Kaphiri, Will had given Jordan a minicourse in combat and survival. Despite his lack of experience, the guy had picked up on the essentials quickly and agreed without question that Will was in charge. When they had reached the foothills at daybreak and stopped in a village called Bahiti, Will had made the decision to leave Cheryl behind. There was no point putting her at risk, especially since she would only slow them down, and Jordan would be distracted by her presence because his first priority would be to protect her.

  Will’s gut told him he could trust Sebak not to give them away. After all, if he or the other villagers had wanted to turn them over to the elite brigade, they could have done that immediately after they arrived on Umi.

  “I will take care of your woman,” Sebak had told Jordan. “If you do not return, I will make sure she leaves Umi safely. If you return, I trust you to do no harm to my village.”

  “Your village is safe from us,” Jordan assured him, then looked to Will. “Isn’t that right?”

  “We will repay you for your help by not harming you or your people,” Will said.

  Jordan had thanked Sebak for all he’d done for them, then spent a few minutes alone with Cheryl to say goodbye. Will had led Sebak aside and questioned him, knowing that any knowledge the man possessed could help them when they reached Lord Baruti’s palace.

  “How long do we have?” Will had asked.

  “I do not know for sure,” Sebak had replied. “They will not perform the Ceremony of Olumfemi before the sun is at its highest point in the sky.”

  “This ceremony—”

  “A ceremony of sacrifice. Emery and the others will be sacrificed to the gods, and in this way, they will be redeemed for having committed a grave sin.”

  Sebak’s knowledge of the high priest’s palace was limited to what his son, the scholar who lived atop Mount Kaphiri, had shared with him. But even that information was better than nothing.

  During their climb up the mountain, Will and Jordan used the roadway that wound steadily upward like a slithering snake. At any hint of danger, Will led them off the main pathway, a twenty-foot-wide rock lane similar to the ones that ran through the jungles, only this road was wider. Twice on their journey, Will spied checkpoints that were guarded by two men he assumed were members of the elite brigade. Their physical appearance was similar to the other natives, but their attire differed. They wore dark-blue loincloths, silver breastplates and heavy sandals with straps that rose to midcalf. The two men stood at either side of the road and each held a spear, but the tips were rounded instead of pointed, which made Will wonder about their purpose.

  Taking no breaks, they arrived outside the walls of the palace shortly before high noon. Will ascertained from their appearance that the walls were undoubtedly more for decorative purposes than protection. Rising no higher than eight feet, with sections of silver-and-gold metal stakes carved in intricate designs, the open fencing allowed a breathtaking view of the interior. Built a good twenty feet higher at the very apex of the mountain, the palace rested like a goddess on a cloud. Will guessed the palace covered at least an acre. It was a magnificent structure of stone, with numerous enormous columns and huge statues guarding the entrance.

  Richly dressed people stirred about, each one apparently rushing to the same area of the palace. Rushing to witness the Ceremony of Olumfemi?

  “We can’t enter through those front gates,” Will said. “There are too many guards. We’d be spotted in seconds. We’ll have to find another way to get in.”

  “All those people are hurrying in one direction.” Jordan’s gaze focused on the palace. “Maybe that’s the way to the temple where Sebak said the ceremony will be performed.”

  Will looked up at the noonday sun. “We don’t have any time to waste. Just remember to follow my orders. And if anything happens to me, leave me behind. Save Gwen, then get her and Cheryl off this godforsaken island.”

  With an expression of somber acceptance on his face, Jordan nodded.

  Obviously, those who lived high above the lowly natives on the island below had few worries about uninvited guests. Will found it far too easy to breach the security of the palace grounds and even the palace itself. If their physical appearance was not so vastly different from the people of Umi, Will would have secured native clothing for Jordan and himself.

  “We watch and wait,” Will said. “Once the coast is clear and everyone is assembled in the temple, we’ll make our move.”

  Jordan nodded.

  Suddenly a loud trumpet sounded. Jordan’s gaze met Will’s.

  Will ventured a guess. “It’s a signal that the ceremony is about to begin.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

  “You know how to use the Ruger I gave you, how to aim, fire and how to replace the clip. When the time comes to act, don’t stop and think about what you’re doing, just do it. If we get out of this alive, there will be plenty of time later to think about how many people you killed.”

  Jordan swallowed.

  “If we can save all three of them, we’ll do it,” Will said. “But my main objective is to rescue Gwen. Understand?”

  “Understood.”

  The four doe-eyed maidens had dressed Gwen in a diaphanous, single-strap, cream gown, then placed golden sandals on her feet and a heavy gold choker about her neck. They had braided her long hair into three layers and painted her face with the type of makeup they wore. Although she had asked them numerous questions, they had responded to only a few, while keeping up a stream of idle chit-chat.

  As they led her down the black-marble-floored corridor, one phrase the women had used often kept repeating itself in Gwen’s mind. “A willing sacrifice will receive great honor in the afterlife.”

  A willing sacrifice? Not hardly. But until she saw her father, knew that he was alive, she planned to cooperate. Besides, what good would it do her to put up a fight? The maidens had informed her that resisting was useless, that if necessary the elite brigade could use the sefu of Baruti to subdue her. It had taken her several questions to get enough meaningful answers so that she could figure out that the round-tipped spears her abductors had used to shoot a powerful white light to render her, her father and Mick unconscious was what the maidens referred to as the sefu of Baruti.

  The maidens led her along three different corridors, taking her from building to building within the palace grounds. She caught only glimpses of the exterior, slashes of palm trees in magnificent garden areas that boasted incredible greenery and an abundance of flowers. As a botanist, she could happily spend endless hours exploring the gardens.

  When they reached a structure slightly apart from the main palace—a two-story, tan building decorated with bright emblems in reds, blues, yellows and greens—the maidens paused, as loud trumpets proclaimed t
he beginning of the ceremony. The massive silver doors swung open to reveal two long lines of the elite brigade flanking either side of the path that led to a dais where an elaborately clothed man of undeterminable age stood waiting. Gwen assumed he was the high priest, Lord Baruti.

  At Lord Baruti’s side stood Gwen’s father. Her heart leaped with joy when she saw that he appeared to be not only alive, but well. Like she, he had been dressed in elaborate native attire.

  While keeping her gaze focused directly on her father, Gwen caught flashes in her peripheral vision of people standing behind the elite brigade.

  As she neared the dais, she hazarded a quick glimpse to her right, where a small group of robed men knelt, their heads bowed. She counted six men in all. Then she glanced to her left. Blazing fires flickered like freshly lit torches atop six twelve-foot pillars that lined the wall directly behind a large marble slab.

  Gwen gasped.

  A completely naked Mick McGuire lay atop the marble altar, his arms lifted over his head and secured with gold chains. Identical gold chains around his ankles held his legs in place.

  Her survival instincts told her to run, to escape by any means necessary. Forcing down the salty bile that rose to her throat, Gwen focused once again on her father’s face. Oddly enough, he appeared not only calm but serene. Had he been drugged?

  When they reached the steps leading up to the altar, the maidens stopped. Her father held out his hand to her. She hesitated, then walked up the two marble steps and hurried to her father’s side. He opened his arms and wrapped her in a trembling embrace.

  “This is your daughter?” Lord Baruti asked. “Your only child?”

  “Yes, Lord Baruti.” Emery released Gwen and turned her so that she stood in front of him, facing the high priest.

  “You have risked your life to aid your father,” Lord Baruti said. “Such devotion and loyalty to a parent will be rewarded.”

  Gwen released a quivering breath, wondering if by some miracle this all-powerful ruler intended to spare their lives. After all, his attitude toward her father was far from hostile.

  Nothing else was said before the high priest turned, leaving Gwen and her father on the raised podium. Drums beat rhythmically, a repetitive cadence, a musical announcement. With his sheer robes floating behind him like transparent, low-slung wings, Lord Baruti descended from the podium and walked directly to the altar. Gwen reached down and clasped her father’s hand.

  A member of the elite brigade, who carried a four-foot-long silver case, approached the high priest, knelt in front of Lord Baruti and lifted the case high above his head. The priest opened the case and removed a gleaming golden sword with a shimmering two-foot blade.

  Gwen watched in mesmerized horror as Lord Baruti approached the altar where Mick McGuire squirmed, his voice ringing out with threat-filled obscenities. Lord Baruti stood over Mick and lifted the sword with both hands over his head. A robust shout erupted from the onlookers.

  Squeezing her father’s hand, Gwen stood on tiptoe and whispered, “Can’t you do something to stop this?”

  “The gods demand sacrifices,” her father murmured. “McGuire will have a chance to redeem himself in the afterlife.”

  Releasing her death grip on her father’s hand, Gwen stared at him, unable to believe that he could accept this inhuman act with such a cavalier attitude.

  “Daddy?”

  “Quiet, daughter.” He hushed her. “Show this solemn moment the respect and reverence it deserves.”

  Oh, God! Why was her father acting this way? It wasn’t possible, was it, that he had been brainwashed in less than twenty-four hours? Didn’t he realize that once Mick McGuire was killed, they would probably be next?

  Will and Jordan managed to sneak onto the narrow mezzanine area of the two-story central chamber inside the temple. The chamber was filled to capacity, but the upper level was vacant except for the carved stone dignitaries seated in silver pews. Will glanced at the silent, imposing figures and wondered who or what they represented. With no more time to waste musing about this strange place, Will motioned for Jordan to go left while he went right. They kept down, out of sight, and moved in absolute silence. Positioned on either side of the overhanging railing, which was fashioned out of pink marble and decked with heavy metallic ropes, Jordan and Will peered down at the ceremony taking place in the temple.

  Will clenched his teeth when he saw the man he assumed was the high priest raise the glistening sword and slash open Mick McGuire, from neck to pubic area. Mick screamed in pain as the blade cut him open, effectively gutting him.

  Will’s gaze connected with Jordan’s. Will issued him a silent warning—suck it up and sit tight. Well aware of the fact that Jordan had never been exposed to such deadly violence, Will hoped the young guy didn’t fall apart on him.

  While the priest’s assistants caught McGuire’s blood in a silver bowl, Will scanned the room and saw a pale-faced Gwen standing beside her father on a raised platform. She wore a sheer gown that revealed the ample curves of her body. A thick coating of heavy makeup had been applied to her face, and her long, dark hair had been plaited in three braids.

  The soft, eerie music of flutes filled the temple, the sound unnerving and oddly out of place at a ceremony that glorified human sacrifice. The priest’s underlings brought the bowl of blood to Lord Baruti, who carried it with him as he returned to the podium. He set the bowl on a marble stand, then turned to Dr. Arnell and Gwen.

  “For the high crime of removing the life-giving Eshe plants from the holy fields, the first sacrifice has been made,” the priest announced to his audience. A loud cheer rose from the crowd. “But the gods are not satisfied. They demand another sacrifice.”

  Gwen’s heart caught in her throat when Lord Baruti looked directly at her father. What had he meant by another sacrifice? Had her father made a bargain of some kind with the priest, a bargain to save Gwen’s life?

  Lord Baruti motioned for them to come to him. Her father went without hesitation, all but dragging Gwen with him. The priest smiled.

  “Emery Arnell, you came to Umi to steal the precious Eshe plant and take it back to your world. But it is forbidden for anyone other than my elite brigade, under my guidance, to harvest the Eshe plants. Do you understand the severity of your crime?”

  “Yes, Lord Baruti,” Emery replied.

  “And do you understand that the penalty for stealing the Eshe plant is death?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “But you still desire the Eshe plant, do you not? You treasure it above all else?”

  Gwen’s stomach knotted painfully.

  “I do, Lord Baruti. I have spent my life searching for Umi, dreaming of the day I could return to my world with samples of the Eshe plant and give all people the gift of good health and long life.”

  “You are a benevolent seeker,” the priest said. “I shall spare your life and allow you to return to your world with a sample of the Eshe plant, if you are willing to pay the ultimate price.”

  “I will give you anything you ask for,” Emery said. “No price is too high.”

  Baruti’s ring-adorned hand lifted. He pointed his index finger directly at Gwen. “I give you the choice—your life and a sample of the Eshe plant in exchange for your daughter’s life.”

  Gwen held her breath.

  Emery turned to her, grasped her hands and sighed heavily. “You know that I love you more dearly than anyone on earth.”

  “Yes, Daddy, I know.”

  “I wish it could be different,” he said. “I wish I did not have to make such a terrible choice.”

  Every nerve in Gwen’s body trembled with realization, every muscle constricted.

  “It is with great regret that I give you my daughter as a sacrifice,” Emery told Lord Baruti.

  Despite hearing her father’s declaration, Gwen did not fully comprehend that he had chosen his own life and the Eshe plant over saving her life. Before her brain absorbed the horrific truth, Gwen watched as
the high priest motioned her father to him, then led him to the bowl filled with Mick McGuire’s blood. He dipped his index finger into the blood, painted a slash across her father’s forehead and across each cheekbone.

  Another riotous roar rose from the assembled group. The elite brigade stomped their spears, the sefu of Baruti, against the marble floor.

  It was at that moment, with the roar of the crowd thundering in her ears and the glazed look of madness shining in her father’s eyes that Gwen realized he had finally lost his mind.

  “You, Emery Arnell, are a fool to believe that anything, even the Eshe plant, has greater value than one who is blood of your blood, bone of your bone.” The priest bowed his head for a moment, then shouted, “For such unforgivable foolishness, both you and your daughter will be sacrificed to the gods!”

  “No, no!” Emery cried. “You can’t do this. You promised me the Eshe plant. You swore to me—”

  “Silence!” Lord Baruti motioned for two members of the elite brigade to come forward and take Emery.

  Emery struggled against them, crying out to Gwen, who tried to go to him but was restrained by one strong, burly guard.

  “Daddy!”

  Lord Baruti followed the precession to the altar, where others of the elite brigade were unchaining Mick McGuire’s mutilated body. The guard restraining Gwen dragged her off the podium while the drums began beating again. Loudly. Rhythmically. As if announcing the departure of one soul and the beginning of a new ritualistic sacrifice.

  All eyes focused on the altar and the high priest as Mick’s body was carried away and maidens rushed forward to wash the bloody marble slab. Gwen’s guard loosened his tenacious hold on her, enough so that after a few minutes, she managed to free herself without him noticing. She stayed at his side, not wanting to alert him that she was only biding her time until she could slip away from him.

  While the drums pounded and the people chanted, Gwen searched the temple for any means of escape. As her gaze lifted to the mezzanine, she saw a flash of movement near the pink marble banisters. Her heart caught in her throat when she noticed a man cut through one of the metallic ropes draped across the banisters. With the crowd’s attention focused on the ceremony, Will climbed down the metallic rope and dropped onto the floor, only a few feet behind a group of people absorbed in the gruesome spectacle. Gwen slowly moved away from her guard and managed to edge ever so gradually toward the back wall. By the time the guard realized she was missing, Gwen had escaped. Within minutes, she met up with Will, but not before they were spotted.