Aisha jumped off her horse. “No. This is ridiculous. That’s some dark cult’s temple and you’re standing here like you’re just going to charge in and rescue the damsel in distress. I’m your damsel right here, right now. I’m only distressed about you falling for the oldest trick in the book and thinking about going in there. I fought for you the night before last. I won. You’re mine, and you’ll stay right here beside me where it is safe.”
“Nowhere in this world is safe from my conscience.” He loosened his throwing axe in his belt.
“What’s that mean?”
“When I was a boy, I learned the code of my people. It is said that even when everyone knows the right thing to do, you still have to be willing to do it.”
“And?” asked Aisha.
“It means I’m going in there,” he said with finality.
“No!” she shouted. “I don’t even hear a call for help anymore.”
“Then I had better hurry,” said Ole.
“How will you get in there?”
“There’s a raft.” He pointed to a muddy little thing on the shore, so covered in detritus and river scum that it had almost been invisible.
“Then I’m coming with you,” she said.
“Thought you might see it my way.”
“What do you think you are doing?” asked Catlo. “When I said let’s go in, everyone said no. Catlo says let’s move on and suddenly you stop to go looking in some ruin of a crypt. No! Let’s go.”
“Someone cried for help. I’m going to go check it out.”
“No,” said Catlo, “you owe me. Don’t go getting killed before you have paid me back!”
“You tried to free him of the debt at the poison tree. Remember?” snarled Aisha.
Catlo gulped. “Yes, well, then I jumped in and helped you. It was a trying time for all of us.”
“Especially for Ole,” said Aisha with dripping disdain for Catlo.
Catlo called, “Musa. Will you go with us?”
“No,” replied the Umoja. “But I’ll watch your horses. If you don’t come back, they are mine.”
Catlo smacked his forehead in frustration. “See how stupid this plan is? They are probably right there watching us in the dark, right now, laughing at how gullible we are to come inside for a single cry of help.”
“I heard it three times.” Ole pushed the raft out into the river.
“Well, I’m not coming with you, then,” said Catlo.
“Fine,” said Ole.
“Good,” said Aisha.
Catlo stood looking at them as the raft careened out into the river just a foot or two. He came running and jumped aboard. “Damnit! I can’t let my two-favorite people in the world just go and take all the potential treasure in an old temple for themselves, can I? I mean I can’t let anything happen to you both.”
“He means it,” said Ole. “He doesn’t want us to find anything he can’t have a part of.”
“You’ll be grateful for another sword.” Catlo drew his blade and looked at the looming temple.
The river was deeper here but moved slowly with only the occasional swirl of the current dragging it northward. The temple itself looked to be built upon a jutting crag of rock in the middle of the river. Whoever had built it had marvelous architectural skills that had not been utilized in this land for centuries. Cleary whomever had made it was not living in this region any longer. Aisha wondered if it might have been the same peoples which had reared the ruins of Agarti. But those people had built of adobe, and this was firmer stone and made with finer skill in its artistic endeavors. The pillars were starting to crack and crumble, yet they retained some finer edges along the divots that ran vertically upon them. The wide steps met the river and dove deeper than could be seen. Portions of the roof were crumbling and caved in, but enough remained to keep the interior shrouded in darkness.
A few stones here and there had fallen upon the veranda and there were just a couple of scrubby plants trying to grow in the cracks. A snake was coiled near one of the crocodile head statues, but no other reptiles were visible, nor any other sign of human habitation. But the torch within still flickered denoting a physical presence that could not be very long removed.
The raft stopped at the steps and as they jumped off, Ole gripped the edge and pulled it up the steps so it would be there for their return.
He drew his axe, Aisha her sword, and Catlo, with his blade already drawn, they fanned out just slightly apart from each other, ever wary for any sign of movement.
No sound came from deeper inside.
Ole and Aisha used hand signals and kept their backs to opposite sides of the wall as they entered. They let their eyes adjust to the gloom and crept in farther. Catlo waited outside the threshold until they were more than ten feet in. Then he followed close to Ole. A torch crackled on a wall sconce beside Aisha and granted a small bit of orange light to the t-shaped entrance. Passages went to the left and right, and even with the thick dust upon the ground, it was difficult to tell which way had most recently been used.
Glancing around the corner, Aisha saw nothing to the right or the left. They signaled to go left first. Crouching they went on down the passageway and another torch cast an eerie light upon the ruinous hall. An exposed room with a broken door was black as pitch and did not appear to be in use. The hall curved again to the right and they followed it on, uneasiness growing swiftly like fungus. The sharp sound of a whip crack further on snapped them to attention. Their eyes were becoming used to the dark and there was another corner to the right again. Apparently, this hall just followed the square outline of the outer walls and was leading them to a central passage or room.
Sure enough, near the center they found another opening, and within, more flaring torches. Steps led down into the water and a path just above the surface that ran into the center where a man-made island was the focal point of the bizarre temple. A trio of black-garbed priests stood in the center with their prisoner. It was difficult to see any features of the dark-clad priests, but the woman was completely exposed. The priests whipped the pale-skinned woman, her dark hair trailed down her naked back.
Even in the dark Aisha recognized the woman. Diamanda! What was she doing here? How had she been captured again by these cultists? She startled from her inner thoughts as Ole charged toward them.
Ole flung his small throwing axe directly at the center priest and the silver blade buried itself to the haft in the man’s back. The stricken priest made no vocalization, but the terrible crack of a split spinal cord echoed through the chamber. The priest fell forward while the other two wheeled to face their attackers.
They were not human.
Faces of crocodiles with ragged toothy maws stared at them. One still had a whip in his human looking hand and the other drew a curved falchion. They screamed something unintelligible to Aisha’s ears and ran down the narrow path.
Aisha swept her blade up to meet them, but Ole struck one with his big axe and sent the thing spilling into the pool. The priest with a whip tried to keep the attackers back as he retreated a few steps. He let out a loud, curious whistle.
“He must be calling for reinforcements,” said Aisha. “We can’t get trapped in here.”
Catlo nodded and ran to the doorway, just as it slammed shut. “Libnah’s backside! Why did I come in here?”
The final priest continued whipping at them to keep them back but Ole slowly advanced.
As the priest again reached the small man-made island, the enraged Diamanda jumped on his back, tearing at him, Distracting him enough that Ole and Aisha charged ahead. Diamanda tore the crocodile mask from off his head and shoulders and revealed an old man.
He fell into the water as he struggled to escape the Princess of Irem.
“Bastard jackals! I spit on them!” she snarled. She looked up at her would-be rescuers and recognized Ole and Aisha. “And I spit upon you heathens as well! May Cybele eat your bones!”
“I told you this was a mistake,” sa
id Aisha.
Ole shrugged. “It was still the right thing to do. She didn’t deserve that.”
“I’m not so sure.”
Catlo broke the wail of curses. “Diamanda? I got here as quickly as I could. I am so sorry they hurt you. What can I do to tend to your wounds?” He glanced down at the priest swimming in the water beside the elevated path. He struck the priest across the face with his sword tip and the man quit moving and sank.
Diamanda crossed her arms and scolded him like a matron. “Don’t act so happy to see me. It’s your fault I am in this mess.”
“My fault?” Catlo looked hurt. “No, I only want to protect you, my love. When this is all over we will look back and laugh about these strange misunderstandings.”
Aisha countered, “How is it our fault? You should have ridden back with your own men, instead Xargon pursued us further to his detriment.”
Diamanda, was just as unconcerned with her lack of dress as ever, but her attitude changed as she spoke. “I have not seen him in many days. He swore to follow and capture you all for my father. I was sent back to my father but along the way, my men were slain and I was stolen in the night by these heathen dogs. I don’t think they realize the doom they have put upon themselves.”
Catlo said, “That much is true, I will punish them for their wretched treatment of you, and we will plunder their treasure!”
Diamanda crossed her arms. “They have no treasure. They are just a bunch of old men who worship cruel crocodile gods, left over from another epoch. They are so old they didn’t even think of trying to handle my charms.” She brushed her hands over her body.
Ole frowned in disgust.
“They may be made for each other,” Aisha whispered. “They’re both self-absorbed miserable—”
“I can hear you,” said Diamanda, ruefully. “How about instead of conspiring you just get us out of here?”
“We’re in trouble. We’re sealed in,” reminded Aisha.
As if on cue, a droning chant began, and then the grinding sound of sliding stone grabbed their attention from the far side of chamber.
Diamanda continued, unconcerned. “They were angry at me for my harsh words and wanted to beat me before I was sacrificed. But now that you are here it shouldn’t be a problem.”
“What problem?” demanded Aisha.
“They wanted to sacrifice me to their crocodile gods, but you all are here with weapons, you can take care of it.”
“Crocodile gods?”
“Yes, they worship something peculiar here, I’m told,” said Diamanda.
“Not just crocodiles?” muttered Catlo.
The torch light faintly illuminated something moving across from them. It caught the glow of yellowed eyes and Aisha was confused. It smelled reptilian, but the eyes were taller than a crocodile should ever be. They should never move at three feet off the ground or that fast.
The crocodilian behemoth galloped across the edge of the room, past the doorway and one of the two torches. It was the size of an adult crocodile to be sure, perhaps fifteen feet long, but its limbs were enormous, well-built, and lengthy. They reached almost as long as a man’s legs, making it taller and faster. Aisha had never seen such a thing. A half dozen more appeared, some diving into the water to come at them from across the pool while several more followed the galloping leader down the narrow path.
The monstrous crocs hissed like alligators and snapped their jaws with hungry abandon. Three sets of snouts and eyes peaked up out of the water as they drew ever closer.
Ole tore his throwing axe from the spinal column of the dead priest and sent it hurtling toward the lead crocodile. He buried the edge between the eyes of the beast but still it came on, hurtling uncontrollably over the side just before it reached them.
Aisha and Catlo had their blades at the ready for the next monster. It snapped at their swords and caught Catlo’s blade in its teeth, yanking it from his grasp with a mighty pull, despite it ripping a massive wound in its own jaw.
One of the waterborne crocs reared and snapped from the dark pool and was met with Ole’s axe smashing its brains in.
Diamanda retreated a few steps but was confined to remain close at hand.
Shouts came from above, where more of the crocodile worshippers watched the melee. Splashes sounded far off in the corners and a few of the long-legged crocodiles turned about from the fight to charge away at whatever was happening in the gloomy waters.
Aisha slammed her blade against the closest wounded crocodile and lanced a bloody gash across its eyes. It whipped about in a fury, knocking one of its brethren behind into the pool before diving away itself.
One of the monsters snapped his jaws shut on Catlo’s calf and took him screaming into the murk. He drew his dagger and slammed it into the brain of the crocodile before disappearing under the waters.
Diamanda cried out for the first time, as if the full danger of the situation finally occurred to her. She teetered on her tiptoes at the most central point of the tiny island, right behind Ole. She held her hands upward and cried to the Kathulian goddess Cybele to save her life. If Aisha had time to think, she would have made a mockery of the girl’s faith and how it was her she should be praying to save her life.
Catlo burst from the water, gagging. Ole grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and hauled him from the water as Aisha slashed at another of the bizarre monsters.
Ole swung his axe, destroying another set of jaws as the open-mouthed monstrosity snapped at him.
The closed door they had entered swung open with a bang Musa stood there with a bloody, dripping spear.
One of the long-legged crocs turned and looked at him and charged. Musa sent his spear all the way down its gullet and the monster didn’t stop until the tip of its nose was almost to Musa’s hands. His eyes grew wide with fear, but he stood braced and ready for the worst. The thing died at his feet and he struggled to retrieve his weapon.
“Let’s go! Now!” cried Musa.
“Thanks for coming, even if you said you weren’t going to,” said Catlo angrily.
“We must go now!” Musa insisted.
“Kinda busy,” shouted Aisha, as she cut the shoulder of another croc that snapped viciously at her.
“The Kathulians are coming! I saw their dust trail as I scouted from the highest hill. They are only a mile or two away. We must flee!”
Ole slammed his axe into another crocodile and glanced at Diamanda. “Stay here if you like but tell them we saved your life!”
“No, she comes with us,” said Catlo, still struggling to get to his feet.
“Liability,” growled Ole, shaking his head.
“I don’t care. I want her.”
Diamanda smiled. Aisha guessed that the scornful Princess of Irem wanted to be wanted, even if it was by a lecherous bandit who was just as narcissistic as herself.
Aisha cut the last crocodile across the neck as Musa slammed a spear into its side. It groaned and fell into the sacrificial pool.
“Where are the priests that shut the door on us?” asked Aisha.
“I slew them when I was trying to find you. Did you not hear them scream?” asked Musa. “I threw them over the side from their hidden balcony where they watched over your doom.”
“We heard them, but I thought it was because they were angry at us killing their gods,” said Aisha.
Musa continued. “They were all old men and couldn’t put up much of a fight. If you had found them first before entering this room, you would have dispatched them easily.”
“Now we know,” Aisha grumbled.
“Help me, friend.” Catlo limped on his wounded leg. “We must find their treasure hoard and bury it away from here before we leave. We can’t leave it for those foreign dogs.”
Musa laughed, a rare act for him. “There is no treasure here, just rotten old men who worshiped strange gods. They were the last of a dying breed.”
“The old men or the crocodiles?” asked Aisha.
“B
oth,” answered Musa with a shrug that mimicked Ole’s typical style of answer.
Ole pushed the raft out into the river then held to the rope, keeping it steady as everyone boarded the wobbly craft. Musa wrapped a makeshift bandage about Catlo’s leg and slapped him hard on the back to signal he was done.
Musa asked, “Why did you let it bite you? You are lucky to be alive. No one comes back from a death roll.”
Catlo looked at him and shook his head. “Well, I did. Just get me to my horse.”
19. Wayfarers on the Storm
Out into the river Musa pointed to the northeast where they could all see the rising dust from many horses charging toward them.
“We must hurry,” declared the Umoja.
“Which way?” asked Ole.
“They are on the opposite side of the river, but it will not take them long to cross and find our trail,” said Musa.
“We need to keep following the river, do we not?” asked Catlo.
“Only most of the way,” said Aisha. “We can try and cut across the dunes to the south and lose our pursuers. With this breeze, out trail will be eaten by the winds.”
Ole shook his head. “Sounds dangerous, heading into another desert. I’d rather stay near water.”
“We won’t go more than a few miles out, we’ll be all right with the skins we have until we can return, that, and I know the way to a hidden oasis within a day of the mountain.”
The Northman nodded his approval. Catlo grimaced as he repositioned his bitten leg, then smiled up at Diamanda like lovesick dog. The scantily-clad princess of Irem reluctantly went along with them, though she cast rueful glances back toward the rising dust cloud signifying her people’s approach. Once they reached the shoreline where Musa had left the horses tethered, she ran a few short steps away and shouted for the Kathulians.
It was still too far and windy for them to possibly hear her, but Catlo was angered. “Hey, should I have left you for the crocodiles? Show some gratitude.”
“I want my father,” Diamanda protested.
Sowing Dragon Teeth Page 19
