by Lara Nance
“What?” Perron’s eyes narrowed.
“Can’t you hear it?” Belle pointed behind them, her hand trembling. “That has to be the door in the cannon room opening. They’re going to fire on our friends. They’ll be killed.”
Perron’s brows went up. “We must leave here at once.”
Belle wasn’t sure she could take another step as despair swept over her. She had saved her father, but at what cost? She would lose Benji, Armani, Jasper and Sam. The whole Mandagol tribe could be wiped out. All her fault.
“Hurry, we don’t have much time,” Perron jerked her arm.
“Wait, what’s going on?” Rett asked.
“We sabotaged the cannon so when it’s fired it will not shoot the projectile out, instead it will blow up inside the ravine. It may not ignite the remaining shells but it will bring the mountain down on top of it.”
Rett and Belle shared a look of horror and started running, pulling Sir John between them, almost dragging him along. The spies rushed ahead to the engine room.
“Rett, I don’t think he can climb up the rope,” Belle gasped out the words as they ran. “He’s too weak.”
Rett frowned. “We’ll have to tie the rope to him and pull him up last.”
“We have to hurry,” she said.
Perron spun the metal wheel and the door to the engine room opened. They hurried through the maze of machines to the rope. The Gandis group scampered through the opening in the rock and climbed up the rope with the speed and agility of monkeys.
“Go, Rett, I’ll tie him up. You have to be ready to pull as soon as I’m up.” Belle looped the end of the rope around her father’s waist.
“Belle…” Rett’s face held a tortured light.
“Go!” she yelled. “There’s no time. I’m right behind you.”
He took hold of the rope and pulled himself through the opening into the chasm, his last look at her sent chills up her spine. Did he really care so much if something happened to her?
“Father, listen. Once I’m up we’ll start pulling. Just push off from the walls so you don’t get hung up. Okay?”
He put his arms on her shoulders. “Belle you’re the best daughter a man could ever have. Did I ever tell you that?”
“You just did.” She smiled and reached up to kiss his cheek. He grabbed her and held her close for a second.
“All right, go on, my dear.” He gave her a wink, just like old times.
She wriggled through the opening and began the climb using the knots in the rope to push up with her feet. One foot slipped and she almost lost her hold, dangling in the bottomless chasm. She grimaced and held tight until her feet found the rope again. She was more careful then to keep from losing her foothold.
It seemed like it took forever but finally she reached the edge. Evening shadows cast a purple haze over the sky striking a strange contrast to the artificial atmosphere in the underground city.
“Pull,” she yelled as soon as she swung her feet over the rim. She scrambled to her feet and ran behind Rett to help. “Go, pull!”
The black clad spies had the end of the rope and they all strained back. The rope slowly moved then picked up speed. Her hands chafed from gripping the rough line, and she heard Rett grunting in the effort. A scream escaped her lips when her father’s head finally showed above the top of the crevice.
Rett grabbed his shoulder and hauled him over the edge. Sir John gasped for air and his face took on an ashen hue.
“Father, come on we have to get off this mountain,” she said as she untied the rope from his waist. The spies ran down the hill, their feet sending rocks flying.
He gave her a weak nod and with Rett on one side and her on the other they supported him as they slipped and scrambled down the rocky cliff.
“Belle,” her father panted. “You should go on without me. I just can’t take another step.”
“Yes, you can. Come on. Where’s the man who told me never to give up?” she yelled. “You have to make it. The whole world is depending on you.”
He grimaced and pressed his lips together, struggling over the uneven terrain and groaning.
Thankfully they reached the bottom with her father still on his feet. Their horses had already been unhobbled and harnessed by the Gandiss men, but there was no time for saddles. They had to be as far from the mountain as possible when the cannon was activated.
“Sir John, can you ride?” Rett asked him.
He nodded with eyes closed, his breath coming in short gasps.
Suddenly the earth shook under their feet.
“They must have fired the big cannon,” Belle said, she could feel sand shifting under her feet.
“We have to get out of here.” Rett pushed Sir John to a horse and practically threw him on his mount.
Belle didn’t wait; she’d ridden bareback many times as a child. She grabbed the reins and swung up, throwing one leg over the horse’s back. Another rumble sounded and the horses pranced about on the vibrating earth.
“Let’s go,” Rett yelled. He had the reins of Sir John’s horse.
Her father slumped over but his hands gripped the horse’s mane.
“Hold on,” she called. They kicked their horses into a run back toward the hills where they had met the Gandiss spies the previous night. The other group was already far ahead of them.
Behind them another explosion sounded and Belle put her hands over her ears at the deafening sound. Debris hit her back and the horses’ eyes went white in fear as they ran. She was afraid to look back, instead she kept her eyes focused on her father, making sure he didn’t slide from his horse. But Rett turned and glanced over his shoulder.
He yelled at her, “We’re being followed.”
She turned then. All she could see was a huge rolling mass of dust, obscuring any view of the mountain. Riding out of the edge of the dust cloud was a small group of riders coming in their direction. It looked like three or four, but she couldn’t be sure. It might be a coincidence, just other people escaping the catastrophe. But somehow she didn’t think so.
“Keep going, we have to get to the hills.” She waved Rett on.
They rode until they reached the shelter of the hills where the Gandiss spies camped. Belle wondered if they were still there or if they had already left to return to Lord Ismatan and tell him of their success.
They slowed their horses and Rett dismounted. His gaze froze into a blank mask when he turned toward where Manu Picca had been.
Belle pulled her horse to a stop and looked over her shoulder. The mountain wasn’t visible above the dust cloud that now reached into the clouds above it. The riders behind them still headed in their direction. She hung her head thinking of all the innocent people who died without ever knowing the reason for the tragedy. Why did evil people like Dr. Krakov have to exist? They always caused heartache for people who were just trying to lead normal lives.
“We need to hide,” Rett said. “I don’t trust anyone coming from that place.”
“Let’s see if Perron and his men are at the camp. We have to let them know.”
“All right, let’s go.” Rett started off, leading his and her father’s horse.
“Belle?”
She raised her head at her father’s voice and slid from her horse. “Are you okay?”
He nodded, still slumped over the horse’s neck, and mumbled, “Water.”
“Come on, let’s get to the camp. They had water there.” She pulled the reins of her horse, following Rett as he moved quickly among the hills.
Before they reached the camp, a dark figure appeared standing silently in the trail ahead of them. She breathed a sigh of relief. The Gandiss spies had stayed. The figure walked forward and took the reins of Sir John’s horse from Rett and they continued in silence until they reached the camp.
“My Lady, we are glad you are safe,” Perron said coming forward to greet them.
“Please, help my father,” she said, weariness overcoming her. One of the spies too
k her reins and led their horses away. She collapsed on a log by the fire.
They carried Sir John from his horse and placed him on a rug beside her with his head propped up on a pillow. Perron handed him a cup of water which he grasped as though it were gold and drained it in one gulp. The fire crackled and the smell of food made her stomach rumble but she could not relax until they knew who followed them.
“We’re going to have company soon,” Rett said. “There’s a small group of riders that look as though they came from the mountain. They’re just behind us.”
Perron frowned. “I find it hard to believe anyone escaped from that explosion. There was no way they could know what would happen when they fired the cannon.”
“Nevertheless, I suggest not trusting them until we know their intentions.”
Perron rubbed his chin thinking for a moment, and then he moved his hands out to his sides with two fingers out on each hand. His men split and went into the trees on either side of the camp, quickly hidden by the vegetation and rocks.
“I can’t move my father. We’ll stay here, they saw the three of us and know we’re here anyway,” Belle said.
Perron nodded. “Very well, I shall be watching from that hill.” He pointed behind Belle and moved silently taking his sword and rifle with him.
Rett grabbed a jug of water and took a long drink. He poured more in her father’s cup and handed the jug to her, then sat on a rock across from her where he had an open view of the pass into the camp.
“I don’t like this,” he said. “Perron’s right. If they were in the mountain, they should be buried under a pile of rubble right now.”
“Maybe they weren’t inside. While riding by they could have been caught up in the explosion’s aftermath .”
Rett raised one brow, but didn’t reply. He cocked his head to the side and pointed to the pass. “Here they come.”
She slid her hand to her holster and removed her shooter. She hadn’t had time to reload and quickly plugged more bullets in the twelve holes of the cylinder. She snapped it shut just as the sounds of horse hoofs crunching on twigs and scattering rocks approached the camp.
She and Rett rose to their feet, alert and ready. Her father rested, frail and wan, on the rug at her feet. He whispered, “Be careful, Belle.”
Three men came into the light cast by the campfire. They were dressed in black tunics and pants tucked into knee high boots. Scarves draped over their heads and looped around the bottom half of their faces. Sarcs. Belle’s heart sank.
The one in the lead had dark brown eyes she recognized from their encounter in Harruca and they were focused on her while the other two shifted their gazes around as they advanced.
“Where are the others?” the leader asked.
“What others?” Rett asked.
“This camp is well set up. You were only a few moments ahead of us. Where are the others?”
“The camp was here when we arrived. Whoever was here left before we found it. Who are you?”
“Ask Lady Arabella,” he replied.
Rett cast a sideways glance at her.
“They’re Sarcs,” she said, glaring at the man. “He’s the one who kidnapped me in Harruca.”
“Give me the stickpin, put down your weapons, and we will grant you a quick death.”
“How did you get out of the mountain?” Rett asked.
“We were not in the mountain. Sarcs do not put themselves in confined places such as that cursed underground city. We camped outside and saw you leaving when the mountain began to collapse.” He took a step closer but the other two moved out to the sides, they hefted their rifles pointed in front of them. The leader seemed to be unarmed but Belle felt sure that was not true.
“I can give you money,” Belle said, moistening her dry lips with her tongue. “You can take your pin and the money if you let us live.”
A brief laugh came from the leader but his eyes remained cold. “Whatever money you have is meaningless to us. The taking of the stickpin is a matter of honor. You’re only choice is to die quickly or slowly. Choose.”
Where were Perron and his men? She hoped they were going to do something soon. Then fear sliced through her. What if there had been more than three of the Sarcs and they had circled around, found Perron and his men and killed them?
“Okay,” Belle said. “The pin’s in my pocket.”
“Put your weapon down and take the pin out slowly.”
She dropped the shooter and it landed beside her father. Carefully she slipped a hand in the pocket of her pants. The stickpin was actually back on Gambit in the pocket of her leather money satchel. She’d almost forgotten about it after they landed at the oasis.
Rifle fire crackled in the air and everything happened so suddenly, Belle couldn’t tell how it all occurred. Insidiously, the details burned into her head like a horrid nightmare you can never forget. The two Sarcs behind the leader staggered backwards and fell to the ground. Like in slow motion, the leader raised his arm toward her. A fingerless leather glove covered his hand with a small box sitting on top of his wrist.
His opposite hand reached for the box and three projectiles emerged, headed for her. She screamed but couldn’t move, it all happened so fast. She closed her eyes and a body crashed into her, taking her to the ground. Then shots rang out from every direction.
She waited for the pain. Surprising, she imagined there would be pain when she died. But all she detected was a heavy body draped over her and she struggled to move it off of her. The shooting stopped and Rett called her name.
Finally, the body rolled to one side and she scrambled away on hands and knees.
“Belle,” Rett called again. “Are you okay?”
Suddenly he was at her side, pulling her to her feet. She took a deep breath and looked around the camp. The Sarcs were sprawled about, dead, and Perron’s men emerged from the trees. They dragged in the body of another Sarc and let it fall to the ground beside his companions. There had been another one. If it hadn’t been for Perron and his men they would all be dead. The Gandiss men walked forward, their eyes solemn as they stared at her.
She ran hands over her arms and chest. She was okay. A shaky laugh tumbled from her lips. “What happened?”
Rett gazed at her, eyes full of sorrow. She frowned, then she looked down. The man on the ground, he had thrown his body in front of hers to take the projectiles the Sarc had meant for her. Three brass spikes protruded from his back through the black fabric of evening tails now dirty and tattered. Her father.
She fell to her knees as the world spun away from her. Despair hit like a fiery knife piercing her heart. Denial was the only pillar she could cling to. It just couldn’t be. She pulled out the spikes and threw them from her, filled with revulsion and then rolled his body over.
His eyelids fluttered and her heart leaped. He wasn’t dead.
“B, Belle,” he whispered. His eyes flickered open for a second focusing on her then closed. “I… love …you…” And he slipped away.
An inhuman cry rose in her throat and spilled forth, a shrill howl full of loss and despair. She fell over him, sobs wracking her body. It couldn’t be. She had come all this way and they had saved him. He was supposed to go back to Urbannia and pick up where he left off…saving the world…and being her father. The one person she could always count on, the one man who always understood and supported her.
As though from a distance Rett called her name, but it was surreal. He wasn’t part of this pain and sorrow. He belonged in another world. She clutched her father’s coat as the moisture of her tears fell and covered her hands until she could no longer feel the fabric. It all ended here and she didn’t care anymore. Her father was dead and the world could go to hell.
Chapter 21
Rett’s heart sank when the Sarc fired the spikes from his wrist weapon, but he was too far away to stop it. All he could do was roar his outrage as he lunged toward Belle. He had thought the man was unarmed by the way he stood with his arms
at his sides, holding no weapons. He had believed the lie of his sleeve covering the projectile mechanism.
As if in a dream, Sir John leaped from the ground and threw his body in front of Belle. The projectiles went into his back and he fell against his daughter taking them both to the ground. The Gandiss group took out the Sarcs with their rifles. The assassins fell in a rain of bullets from both sides of the camp. He barely noticed as he ran to Belle.
She collapsed on top of her father’s lifeless body, her cries inconsolable. He didn’t know what to do. Unbelievable. They had come all this way and by a miracle had rescued Sir John. They had even destroyed the people who had planned this. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.
He tried to pull Belle up but she waved a fist to keep him away, screaming, “No!”
Her sorrow ripped at his heart and he wanted desperately to comfort her, but she didn’t want him. He looked up at Perron and the Gandiss man shook his head.
“She has earned the right to grieve,” Perron said. He motioned to his men and they moved back standing with their hands crossed over their chests in a sign of respect for the dead.
Rett sank to his knees beside her, not touching, but there. They stayed this way until her tears ran out and her sobs subsided to whimpers.
Rett finally drug her away from the body and she allowed him to pull her to the rug and wrap her cloak about her, too exhausted from sorrow to protest. He put his arms around her and rested her head on his chest.
The others moved then, bringing a blanket to wrap Sir John’s body in. They stoked up the fire and put water on to boil for coffee. The food preparation resumed and soon the smell of spicy meat wafted in the air making Rett realize he hadn’t eaten in a day.
But he didn’t want to move. Holding Belle was his grip on sanity at the moment. If he started trying to figure out the right and wrong of life he thought he would go mad. Sir John was one of the finest men in the world. A leader of nations. A man who fought to bring peace and prosperity to countries less fortunate. He didn’t deserve this fate.
One of the spies brought him a skewer of meat wrapped in a hunk of bread and a cup of coffee. He nodded in gratitude and with the hand that wasn’t holding Belle he stuffed the food in his mouth. He took a sip of coffee and then held up the cup.
