Drake felt gratitude and affection rise inside and attempted to keep it hidden. “The entire village?”
“Dahl may be exaggerating somewhat,” Mai said. “But they all want to help in some way. These people possess such a sense of integrity it reminds me of my old home.”
“We settled on eight,” Dahl said. “Eight of them. Eight of us.”
“But how will we get them down—”
“Matt.” Mai held up a hand to stop him. “We will find a way.”
The night deepened. Animal screams or worse flowed down out of the mountains. Drake fancied he could see torches wavering up there, distant as the stars, showing something the way home. A sense of urgency fired his soul and then a sense of loyalty as the eight chosen villagers walked up. They carried extra jackets for the soldiers.
“The cold cuts deep up there,” Brynn said. “We will all need the extra protection.”
With quiet and heartfelt goodbyes the soldiers, along with Curtis and Desiree, Anica and Marco, Brynn and others, took their leave of Kimbiri and lit their torches, following a landscape of flame and shadow, treading the final path that would either finally rid them of a terrible, clinging evil or send them plunging into a pit fashioned in the more desperate chambers of Hell.
A torchlit procession wound up the mountain, guns and ammo strapped around their waists and chests and thighs and anywhere else they could physically attach it. Utter darkness crouched just beyond the flames, a tangible force. Distant, bleak, stars glittered high above and half of a barren moon lit the edges of scudding clouds with silver. Drake and Dahl walked ahead.
“Seems like we’re always heading out on some do or die mission, mate,” Drake said.
“Not like this,” Dahl replied. “I’ve never done anything like this.”
Drake took in the surroundings, the team and their compliment of villagers. “Shocking that nobody would help them.”
“But look how they’ve thrived with just a little help.” Dahl took the lead through a narrow gap as they started to ascend a mountain. “Sometimes, that’s all a person needs.”
“I do feel responsible for them.”
“You and me both, pal. You and me both.”
Onward and upward, circuiting first one mountain and then another, following narrow trails cut or worn into the bare rock, by turns inching along a rocky outcrop with a deadly fall to the left and then hugging pitched stone faces as they climbed a random rockfall. In one way they followed a trail left by the cannibals, in another a route recommended by some of the men. One by one they helped each other along, pulling, prodding, encouraging. Sixteen chasing many and with retribution on their minds.
And finally the great house that clung to the mountain came into view, lights ablaze warding away the night, walls thick and lofty and strong and seemingly insurmountable. Drake flinched as a terrifying, vicious howl echoed through the night.
“What the hell was that?” Alicia was suddenly an awful lot closer. “Alpaca?”
“Worse,” Dahl said. “Sounded remarkably like—”
“We’ve heard these stories,” Brynn said, shuddering, face cast into fiery shadows by the torches. “Killer wolves. They’re guarded by killer wolves. I didn’t think they were all true.”
Fearful, the villagers regarded the moving shadows.
Drake listened as more mournful voices took up the call, as the baying grew louder and hungrier. He watched the track ahead.
“We’re about to find out,” he said.
CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT
Hayden soon found that the few short hours she thought she had vanished faster than the last embers of a dying fire. Fay questioned her some more and then last night’s victims spoke up about their ordeal. It wasn’t as if Hayden didn’t know what was going to happen. The question was — were all the situations she saw unfolding around her worth going through it all?
She saw frightened youths — male and female — who’d signed up to participate in a test and wanted out. She saw others on the road to an unsteady acceptance — either because they liked the idea of belonging or were too scared to protest. She saw others who appeared intoxicated with the drug Dantanion had introduced and were desperate for more. Within the group wandered older initiates, spreading more poisonous persuasion and honey-coated lies. Each one was fair of face, lithe of body, and displaying a fixed smile that looked like it had been carved in place. Hayden had seen it before on ballet dancers and pageant queens, and thought it about as hideous a subversion of true happiness as was possible.
She wandered to the bolted doors, but saw no way through them except by key. The locks were gleaming and large. She imagined a guard carrying it around his neck. When two initiates came over and gently guided her away she knew they were all subject to a vigilant eye. She did take a few moments to examine them though, and saw gloves on their hands, under which the impression of bandages could be seen. Did they walk awkwardly too? Did one of them wince every time he touched his own chest? She didn’t want to delve too deeply — the monstrous imaginings that slithered through her mind would last forever.
A gong sounded, deep and ominous. The initiates all clapped, grabbing attention but grinning now with just a little more venom. It was time for the real party to begin.
I’m a prisoner. They wanna take my body and leave my mind intact to remember every last minute of it.
“We will make our way to the feasting hall,” one of the women said.
Hayden saw Fay blanch, saw the indecision, and held out a hand to the girl. “Stick together,” she said. “We can get through this.”
If Fay was eighteen she was lucky, but she looked on Hayden with eyes that had suffered too much. “I’m scared.”
Hayden wanted to say, me too, but held it back. They joined the line and waited. Dantanion’s underlings walked up and down the line, ensuring all stayed together and answering questions with nothing but knowing smirks. Presently, they moved and Hayden shuffled forward. The line filed through the door and then up a narrow corridor, lit by artificial sconces. The going was slow, hesitant, but seemed to suit the assistants. As Hayden neared the end of the corridor she saw those ahead turn to their left and disappear. Soon, the loud noise of chatting, laughing and quiet conversation filled her ears.
Roll of the dice.
What to do?
No actual guards were in evidence, but Hayden was totally alone and she knew what the spider creatures were capable of. She saw them now as she entered the feasting hall, capering around the outsides to the beat of an unknown song. Clad in black, they cavorted like jesters, some partially climbing walls, others flitting between the crowd and encouraging shrieks. Hayden took a long look at all the recruits.
Young and pretty. All alone. And this was the work of the Devil.
Torches flickered all along the walls. An enormous table dominated the center of the room, already laid with cloths, cutlery, napkins and warming dishes. Servants flitted here and there, barely noticed. Bottles of wine stood open, breathing, everywhere. Plates of nibbles were distributed through the gathering which, to Hayden’s relief, looked to be bread in all its forms.
The throng quietened on seeing the recruits, staring with mixed gazes dripping with appraisal, judgment and expectation. Hayden saw a man standing on a dais — clad in a sheer black bodysuit — and striking a pose on one leg with one arm around his back. How he stood so still for so long she didn’t know, but was forced to wonder about the symbolism.
She saw banners unfurled along a far wall, floor to ceiling, black with a red logo that she had to assume was Dantanion’s personal crest. In a far corner musicians strummed quietly, faces red probably from liquor or drugs. Pedestals rose among the people, surfaces taken up by silver plates full of plastic cups that held a clear liquid. Dozens were ingested every minute, invoking some darker pall that fell over the crowd. The table itself was so brightly illuminated it caused after-images to blur Hayden’s vision.