The hooded Prophet relied on his stick to get enough balance to seat in his big armchair. He really seemed to be considering Esclarmonde’s offer while fearing the method.
“You must understand, I need a clue in order to...”
“I agree,” he suddenly interrupted her.
Esclarmonde’s face lighted up. Even if helping her worst enemy could never be seen as a valid motivation, to discover the mystery of his surprising longevity, being divine or not, was a real scientific challenge Esclarmonde couldn’t refuse.
“Is the process dangerous?” The Prophet added, falsely reassured.
“What kind of risk could scare an immortal man?”
“I don’t expect you to understand. I can’t stand the simple idea of suffering. As you can imagine, I’m trying to avoid everything which could make me suffer even more. So? Do I need to worry?”
“Not at all. You’ve my word.”
“If anything goes wrong, the Legatee has some specific order concerning our dear Paul.”
“I’ve no doubt about this...”
“And also about the small community of Kalia,” he interrupted her.
Hearing this, Esclarmonde felt a chill going through her whole body, from head to toe. If she had to protect the life of the devil personified to save the five thousand souls of Kalia and let Paul a chance to survive, she would do it. The warning, as blunt as it was, had at least reached one goal. She had no doubt about how determined the Prophet was. If the time should come, the vile dictator would show no mercy. She was quite sure that as soon as she would finish the researches, she would be taken care of. She was still hoping the Kathars would get her out of here. Time! She would need to save time, to let the analysis dragging on, to develop some fake trails and to discover a way to destroy, once and for, all the Church’s foundations, to give back their freedom to the population that Inosanto had taken for so long.
*
* *
The race
Matilda was slightly bending over in order to assess the canalisation tilt. For safety, she firmly grabbed one of the ladder bars leading to the next level. The metallic platform, from where Blanche and she would start, seemed grafted in the mountain over a vertical slope. But, senses could be baffling, and often provided a biased analysis of the fact. And a forty degrees slop was therefore perceived by the less daring minds as much more than that.
“Are you sure about yourself, Matilda?” Ermengarde discreetly asked her, without getting closer to the edge. “There are at least eighty degrees,” he added, scared.
“You mean eighty per cents?” She confronted him.
“Uhh! Maybe. Maths isn’t really my cup of tea, you know!” He admitted, embarrassed.
Even if she seemed confident, Matilda still checked her long board bearings one last time. Blanche was doing the same on the other side of the platform, helped by Aymeric. Until now, the two opponents were formally ignoring each other. The tension on the platform was at its highest - it smelled in the air like the Kang Kong flower fragrance invading the centre of Kalia during bad weather.
It hadn’t been easy for the two opponents and their respective assessors to reach this old metallic structure built on the mountains slope more than two centuries ago. Located at an altitude of sic hundred feet, the departure area was providing a direct access to the huge canalisation formerly used to generate electric power. At this time, water was flowing inside to drive a turbine, six hundred feet below. Since they had arrived in the vicinity, the Kathars had adapted it for training and physical preparation purposes. The turbine access, also out of order, had been blocked by adding a badly adjusted and quickly welded metallic door, forming a narrow bend before another less steep part of the canalisation. The whole structure of the tubular construction was dotted with hollow holes dug by rust. In some places, some holes created over time by pockets of stagnant water were visible. Beforehand, Blanche had briefed her young opponent about the track topography so she could avoid having any bad surprise and in order to make the challenge she had accepted as fair as possible. Ermengarde and Aymeric were both carrying a backpack filled with climbing equipment and medical kits. Those precautions were essential. The risk of a serious accident happening was very high according to Blanche, who had been practising on this canalisation for several years. Ermengarde was seriously freaking out, and he was trying to joke about it for himself.
“You’re sure you want to dive in this rotten tube?” He discreetly whispered to Matilda. “What speed will you reach going down there? Seventy-five? One hundred miles per hour?” He added, speaking to himself.
Focused on the last tunings of her board, it seemed the young woman wasn’t listening to her young assistant. She finally straightened back, and, while her mate was staring at her, she spoke to Blanche with an exceptional confidence.
“So! What are you waiting for to start? The next radioactive storm?”
Unlike the tube where the train was going through, the canalisation of the former hydroelectric plant didn’t allow for two skaters to go side by side or even less at the same time. Therefore, Blanche had offered to do a timed race. She would go first and as the diameter was never bigger than six feet, she would favour a lying position. The ride should take approximately two minutes, and, once Blanche would reach the finish line, Trancavel, who was waiting down there with Gaucelin, Ermessende and Phoebus, would give the signal for Matilda to begin and start the timer. Blanche having the benefit of knowing the ground, they had collectively agreed on a 50% bonus for Matilda. In a simple way, if she would finish the race in less than three minutes, she would be admitted for the mission. That being said, Trancavel was convinced he took no risk while agreeing to this rule. Indeed, he didn’t believe the arrogant young woman could cross the finish line. Aymeric’s walkie-talkie triggered.
Tssss! Tssss!
“Aymeric, Trancavel here, how is it going? On our side, everything is good. We’re just waiting for your signal.”
“Aymeric here, chief. Blanche will start very soon. Get ready! Over,” he answered looking into Blanche’s eyes for approval.
“Well received! Trancavel, over.”
Wearing some sports clothes made of Kevlar and padded in several places, revealing enough to release all Aymeric’s tension of this moment during a few seconds, Blanche got closer to the edge, avoiding at all cost Matilda’s look. The platform was just big enough for the two opponents to stand side by side next to the tubular abyss. Matilda was hearing the tenuous breath of the Kathar warrior. She was practising a kind of ancient meditation known as Yoga. According to her, all the muscular and psychic tensions, such as stress and anxiety, could be tamed with simple breathing exercises. Like a conscious breathing, deep and mindfulness. Out of respect for her opponent and in order not to disturb her, Matilda held her breath. While she was still ignoring her, Blanche raised her right fist at shoulder level to inform Aymeric she was ready. He switched on the walkie-talkie by pressing twice on the call button to warn Trancavel of the impending departure. Trancavel did the same. Blanche laid her long board on the latch inside the canalisation at the platform level, which was planned for this specific use. She put her helmet with its panoramic visor and a mouth guard, then she took position lying on the gigantic skateboard, her feet directed downward on some holds, grabbing with her hands the brake and the steering levers. After taking a deep breath, she enabled the latch by herself which automatically felt back, letting her fall into the void.
“Let’s go!” Aymeric yelled into the communication device.
Fully conscious about the inherent risks due to the obsolescence of the facilities and due to the vertiginous slop, Matilda had to let her pride got forgotten in a small part of her smeared stomach. The combined noise of the bearings and of the wheel friction coming from the abyss depth in which Blanche had just disappeared, enhance the reality of how dangerous this contest was. The tension stepped up. The fear was inevitably showing up. Her heartbeat also seemed to get carried away. Matild
a tried to do a few breathing exercises. In vain. She had no knowledge about this notorious technique called yoga, and she could perfectly feel how ridiculous this was. She avoided looking at Ermengarde, who wasn’t so confident either. The poor little bugger was livid. However, he wasn’t the one who had to go in the pipeline. What could happen right now? Was Blanche doing as well as usual, mastering it? Did she have to break to negotiate the dangerous turn of the former turbine? Aymeric, as anxious as his firery-haired fellow, was, however, granted with more wisdom thanks to his advanced age. Already 50 years old, he knew how to remain calm in any situation. Nevertheless, the simple idea of his friend losing control of her board and getting into a bad situation, was making him smirk in a disgraceful way. In other words, his lips, normally completely hidden by a long beard and moustache, were finally appearing in a bowl smile, meaning he was wildly gnawing his teeth to fight against his sense of helplessness.
Already thirty seconds had elapsed. Matilda focused on her memories to find the peace of mind and concentration she needed for this contest. She was remembering her crazy race in the Tibesti Ravines. This year, she was barely 16 years old, and she won the mountain long board competition, first of the ten events of the yearly Tibesti Games. Her whole body was shaking from the memory of this turn where a few too reckless competitors had lost their life. This same turn she took faster and more dangerously than the others, so she got the needed speed to miraculously avoid a fatal fall and take the leading position, alone, in front of the 28 other madmen eager for recognition and honours. The triple champion of this contest didn’t see her coming. Neither on his long board, nor during the nine following events. The barefoot marathon in the desert. Climbing the majestic lion waterfall of 2,000 feet high. The following wingsuit race, ending by Tibesti magnificent wild lake. The swimming race in the middle of the crocodiles and other exotic beasts, during which the slowest ones had no chance to survive. The osprey hunt with a bow and a single arrow. The oars shooting of the Ivory Horn rapids. The survival contest in Borkou Lowlands. The quad race in the narrow Zouarké Canyons. And finally, the most important one - the kiss on the huge king cobra’s forehead, living in the Tigui Caves.
Matilda always had shown some extraordinary physical skills. Nevertheless, she was always the best when she was cornered. Immature, thoughtless, she was never as good as when she was in the heat of the moment. If she was thinking too much, she wouldn’t take the chance. The latch was up, and without waiting any command from Aymeric, she put her long board on it, bracing it properly to avoid a false start. Ermengarde wasn’t even daring to speak to her any more, as she seemed to be deeply focused. In fact, she wasn’t at all. In Matilda’s mind it was like the wild west. A total confusion. Maybe from this chaos, she would be able to deeply understand the events. At this crucial moment, just a few seconds before to start, Ermengarde could have told her anything, she wouldn’t have heard. Her mind was filled with the frenzied music of the djembes that Kalia big orchestra used to play during the fire procession. In her mind, the flame basin was frantically twirling in the wind, carried by hundreds of dancers with painted chest - showing the most beautiful symbols of the sacred lands. She closed her eyes, synchronised her breath on the tam-tam sounds and let a deep a prime feeling investing her, so primitive and unique it was coming down from the time. Without opposing any resistance, she let the picture of the cave paintings of Niaux Cave coming into her mental slump made of sounds and images. Unable to understand how or why, the ancestral roots linking the bisons, the horses and the ibexes with the former African tribes’ tradition naturally came to her. It was only then that she vaguely heard Aymeric telling her “you can start whenever you want, Matilda” She opened her eyes. Everything froze. Only her heartbeats filled both the space and time. Attracted by a black mass, she looked on her right. It was Ermengarde’s backpack, filled with climbing ropes and first aid kits. She made the sign of the cross.
Give me the strength!
While she was getting ready to take position on the long board, she took a break to look one more time at the big black backpack which was weighing around forty-five pounds. She looked at Ermengarde, whose pale face was reflecting how much he worried. She gently smiled to him, and, in a fast and very accurate motion, grabbed the bag and swung it over her shoulders. Without leaving them time to react, she jumped into the void toward her long board. Aymeric and Ermengarde, open-mouthed, didn’t get time to say anything. When Aymeric finally understood what she had done, it was already too late. Matilda who had pulled the latch mechanism, half crouched on her deadly board, just disappeared in a blink.
“Uhh... Matilda just left! She just left,” he repeated, astonished. “Start the timer!” He yelled, amazed. “You won’t believe it.... you won’t believe it...” He added.
Ermengarde put his hand on the walkie-talkie, and, with one finger, signalled to his fellow to keep silent. Aymeric released the device button, disconnecting the communication.
“What? What’s happening?” Trancavel yelled.
“Don’t say anything. Let’s just hope she will reach the finish line alive,” Ermengarde whispered, keeping one hand on the device.
Aymeric played along. Whatever, the damage was done. He pushed the walkie-talkie button and raised it in front of this mouth.
“She has released the latch alone, by herself, as if we weren’t here. Over,” he finally answered.
The only answer he got was silence and contempt.
*
* *
Despite the roughness, the race wasn’t much more complicated than what Matilda had expected. Her long board was vibrating more than usual. Regardless how she adapted the tire pressure and tilt and how she adjusted the suspensions to get as much flexibility as possible concerning her gear reaction, some areas of the canalisation forced her to deviate from her ideal trajectory in just a few seconds. The track was divided into three parts. The first, on which she was right now, had a 40-degree slope and was approximately 400 yards long. Perceiving such a tilt was like sensing being on a complete vertical line. In fact, it was still comfortable enough so she could crouch on the long board. Nevertheless, just a few more degrees and she would rather have to be lying. That being said, when carrying 45 pounds on one’s back, going down lying would have requested a few technical disposition to ensure the fixation. This part was leading toward the famous elbow-shape turn, indicating the beginning of the long second part - two and half miles long and with a 15-degree slope - almost identical to the tube they would need to blow up during the mission. Concerning the final part, it was rising slowly of a few degrees on approximately 200 yards, to let the racer slowing down before the finish line. This trail had two main pitfalls. The first one was the crazy amount of holes dotting it. The second one that Matilda was getting ready to overcome, was the almost horizontal position of the elbow turn at the end of the first part. It was unthinkable to pass it without drastically braking while getting close to it. Thanks to some holes all along the canalisations, daylight was coming through, providing a quite acceptable visibility. A constant and measured pressure on the long board brakes let Matilda keeping a speed a bit higher than 55 miles per hour. Approaching the fateful turn, she understood how wise Blanche’s advice were. The canalisation was literally cut in two distinctive parts the size of a man. Not Ermengarde’s. More like Gaucelin’s. The Kathars had linked the two parts by welding a quarter of a pipe section so nobody could find a good angle to use the centripetal force. In other words, braking was compulsory to cross the small almost horizontal section. This, without reckoning the 45 pounds extra Matilda had taken with her. While she was braking a bit more to reach a more comfortable speed, both front wheel disks suddenly broke down.
Shit! Too much weight! Shit! ...
Despite Matilda’s small loss of speed, without the front brake disks, she couldn’t even think about going through the elbow-turn comfortably. Without letting herself daunted by the situation, she remembered her race at Tibesti. She remembere
d barely avoiding the abyss thanks to her excessive speed. Having just a few seconds left to react, she understood she could only rely on the backpack weight. She let go on the brake to speed up again, then veered to the canalisation side to take the turn with her head directed to the ground. So, a loop. The only problem was that, when she would be in the void, she would have many chances to be ejected outside. Now upside down, right when the front wheels of her vehicle were into the void, then directly followed by the back ones, Matilda grabbed her board with one hand and released her bag hanging out from her other hand. The counterweight had the expected effect. Carried by the momentum, she was tilted at 45 degrees when the front wheels reconnected with the canalisation on the other side of the elbow-turn. Huddled on the long board going very fast, then, taking back a horizontal position, Matilda put back her bag to roam the two and half miles of the slight slope of the second part of the trail. Blanche’s advices came back to her during her crazy race.
Don’t forget, two holes in the first quarter of the second part will force you to change your trajectory if you don’t want to fall!
Matilda was going fast. Maybe too fast when she reached the first hole. Sixty. Maybe seventy miles per hour. Remembering one instruction was one thing. Experiencing it in the heart of the action was another. Her first reaction saved her, thanks to her crouched position, she slightly jumped while grabbing her long board and the first hole was quickly behind her. When she thought she noticed the second hole two dozen yards further, her senses troubled by the lack of light, she understood a second last minute jump wouldn’t be enough.
Let’s talk about a hole! It’s a damn crater. She swore interiorly.
The Convoy Page 5
