Tonight was different, somehow. Perhaps Nagaq was hungrier than usual, or maybe it could tell they had three offerings instead of one. Kuching Kangar could no more read a god's mind than he could predict the future, but tradition told him it would mean something momentous for the tribe if great Nagaq should ever deign to come inside the City.
From the sound of things, momentous massacre would be more like it. Great Nagaq was surly at the best of times, but if its snarls were any indication, then it must be positively rabid at the moment. Men were screaming in the courtyard, some of them in mortal pain, the rest in fear.
Kuching Kangar, emerging from his quarters, was uncertain how he should react. There had been no rehearsals for this moment, nothing to prepare them for a house call from the forest god.
He frowned and took his spear along for comfort.
Just in case.
A hundred yards separated Kangar's sleeping quarters from the courtyard of the shining fountain. There was no sign of Nagaq when he arrived but there were several bodies—and parts of bodies—scattered in the courtyard, as if some gigantic child had run amok and torn his toys apart. Fresh blood was everywhere, its sharp, metallic scent strong in the night.
Where was Nagaq?
The temple doors were open, wild screams issuing from those inside. The drums were silent now, but something had replaced their background noise. A rumbling sound, much like the purring of a giant cat.
The whisper of Nagaq.
Kuching Kangar was moving toward the temple when a babble of excited voices from the gate distracted him. A small group of his fellow tribesmen had collected there, wanting to flee the City, but something seemed to block their way. As Kangar stood watching, he was treated to a new and wholly unexpected sight.
An elephant came through the gate, trunk furled, tusks flashing in the moonlight, bellowing a high note to announce itself. Astride the gray behemoth's neck, a slight man with snow white puffs of hair and flowing robes sat watching with a smile as his mount trampled one of Kangar's brothers, then scooped up another with its trunk and flung him far across the courtyard.
Great Nagaq would have to wait. This stranger had the gall to trespass in the City with his elephant, slay members of the tribe as if they were insects. It was every tribesman's duty to defend their sanctuary from the Outside, make sure the secrets of the City were preserved for future generations. Even normal members of the tribe, excluded from its sacred rituals, were still expected to lay down their lives, if necessary, for the common good.
Kuching Kangar knew what he had to do. He didn't hesitate, but took a firm grip on his spear and charged directly toward the elephant, lips drawn back from his sharp white teeth as he unleashed a fearsome battle cry.
He couldn't kill the elephant, perhaps, but that wasn't important Given time, sufficient spears and arrows, they would bring it down or chase it back into the forest. No, it was the man who mattered, one who could betray their secret to the Outside.
The toss was perfect. He could actually see the spear arc toward its target, silent, deadly—
No!
Somehow the scrawny man had snatched his spear out of the air before it struck. Kuching Kangar stood speechless, stunned. Could such a thing be possible? Should he believe his eyes, or was the whole scene a hallucination, prompted by the lethal aura of Nagaq?
Before he had a chance to ponder that, Kangar observed the old man toss his six-foot spear into the air, reversing it, and catch it, primed for throwing, with the point directed back from whence it came. His feet refused to move somehow, and he was rooted to the same spot when the lance burst through his chest and out his back, below one shoulder blade. The impact knocked him over backward, and he would have fallen, but the three-foot shaft protruding from his back was jammed into the dirt. He screamed as gravity took over and his body started sliding down the wooden shaft by inches, creeping toward a rendezvous with Mother Earth.
He never made it, though, because the elephant stepped forward, following instructions from its master, and a large, round foot came down on Kangar's lower body. His last coherent thought, before eternal darkness, was a quick prayer to the only god he knew.
Avenge me, great Nagaq!
A living nightmare stepped in through the open temple doors. Or rather, hopped in, since the movement was distinctly birdlike, even with the new arrival's bulk and clear reptilian aspect. Remo thought it most resembled re-creations of Tyrannosaurus rex, except that this one had a blunt horn on its snout and bony knobs above each eye. A quick guess made it twenty feet in length, with half of that devoted to a heavy, twitching tail that helped the creature balance on its stout back legs and three-toed feet. The forelimbs looked a bit like chunky human arms, except for the four-fingered hands with wicked claws designed for holding lively prey.
"Ceratosaurus!" Dr. Stock well blurted out. "Extinct since the Jurassic period!"
"Why don't you tell him that?" said Remo, looking for a weapon that would let him keep some distance between himself and what appeared to be one pissed-off prehistoric carnivore.
"This is incredible!"
"You'll think so, while he's snacking on your ass," said Remo, scooping up a fallen spear. It felt more like a toothpick in the presence of their snarling enemy, but it would have to do.
Pike Chalmers recognized the better part of valor, in the circumstances. Dodging to his left, he grabbed a quaking pygmy, scooped him up and threw him at the monster like a basketball. Nagaq, or whatever the hell it was, snapped once and caught the offering in midair, chomping down a time or two before it shook its head and spit the mangled body out.
No sale.
By that time, though, Pike Chalmers had a lead and he was out of there, arms pumping as he ran. The Brit ran true to form. True-blue to himself, that was. Women and children last.
The snarling dinosaur was momentarily distracted by some stragglers from the audience, a couple of them kneeling down to worship him, while others had the good sense to evacuate. The supplicants were first to die, pinned down with giant three-toed feet and shredded with a set of teeth that looked like sharpened railroad spikes. That done, Stockwell's ceratosaurus started checking out the temple, looking for more agile prey.
"We'd better get a move on if we're going," Remo said.
Behind him, Sibu Sandakan and Audrey were intent on emptying the contents of their stomachs, gagging at the sight of mutilated bodies down below. Professor Stockwell stood erect and glassy eyed, as if he had been hypnotized.
"Incredible," he said, and then repeated it for emphasis. "Incredible."
"Unfortunately, we are not inedible," said Remo. "I'm afraid we have to leave right now."
With Audrey's help, he hustled Stockwell off the dais, toward the wings, with Sandakan behind them, bringing up the rear. Nagaq let out a screech that sounded like Godzilla dragging claws across a chalkboard, and you didn't need a special training course on dinosaurs to recognize the sound of big feet slapping on the stonework, gaining on them in a rush.
It would be snack time any moment now, and Remo felt a little like an appetizer, destined to be eaten raw.
One thing about this morsel, though, he thought. Nagaq might choke before getting it down.
Chapter Eighteen
Remo passed the trapdoor up deliberately. They were already short of time, with an alarm in progress, and he didn't care for the idea of getting ambushed on the stairs—or in the winding corridors that led back to the exit, either. It was a deliberate gamble, since he didn't have another way out of the temple readily in mind, but with the rush of tribesmen to escape their hungry god, he reckoned something would present itself.
The natives weren't just running, though. Enough of them still had their wits about them to remember who they were and who they were supposed to serve. Nagaq might be a bit disgruntled at the moment, snacking down on some of their compatriots back in the amphitheater, but what else could be expected from a demented, jungle-dwelling lizard-god? For a believer, it was only logical to think their god would be even more pissed off if it got done with the hors d'oeuvres and found out that its acolytes had let the main course slip away.