“Tree? You mean the tree Wesley blew up?” He had seen it happen from a distance. The reckless soldier had gone barreling in to the fray, not even thinking, and started blowing up everything in sight.
“Yes.” The fellow was either too smart or too frightened to look triumphant. “It’s gone.”
Kennedy thought hard. Had he lost all his men for nothing? There had to be an answer. “Can they plant a new one?” Once again, the truth was in the man’s eyes, and he didn’t try to deny it. “What do they have? Cuttings? A seed?”
“The seed is in the temple, in an urn on the altar.”
“Show me.” Kennedy yanked his knife hand free from the man’s tiring grip, stood, and hauled him to his feet. “Don’t make a sound. If we see someone, we hide. Don’t you do anything, anything to rat me out. I can spill your guts and be gone in an instant, and you’ll die slowly and painfully for nothing. Got me?”
The man nodded, turned, and guided them back down the path, Kennedy holding on to his shirt tail. They reached the pyramid without incident, and the man led him up a sloping tunnel, then down a steeper one. He wondered if he was being led into a trap, but how could one have been set?
He spotted the urn the moment they stepped into the gloomy temple.
A brown-haired woman with olive skin knelt before the altar. At the sound of their entry, she turned and her eyes went wide with shock. “Brian,” she gasped. “What has happened?”
“Miri, I…”
“Don’t say another word, or you both die!” Kennedy might just kill them anyway. He’d had more than his fill tonight. “Is this the urn?” The man, Brian, nodded, and Kennedy gave him a shove that sent him sprawling on the ground at the woman’s feet. She knelt beside him, scowling at Kennedy and taking Brian in her encircling arms like a mother bear protecting her cub.
Kennedy mounted the steps to the altar, reversed his KA-BAR, and brought it down hard. Miri cried out as the urn shattered. Fishing through the shards, he pulled out a large, grayish seed. He held it up in the lamplight to get a closer look.
“That is not…” the woman began. Too late, Brian clapped a hand over her mouth.
“What do you mean?” Kennedy formed each word like a death sentence, because that’s exactly what it was — Brian’s death sentence.
The woman shoved Brian’s hand away, and they both clambered to their feet and backed away. “That is not the seed,” she whimpered. “That man must have taken it. The one from outside.”
“Dane Maddock?” The name was a curse on Kennedy’s lips. He leapt down and stalked the pair as they backed around the altar.
“I suppose so. He and his friends took the seed and left through the door. Look back here!”
“Miri! No!” Brian’s words fell on deaf ears as Miri ran to the altar, pressed something, and a hidden door swung open.
“This is the way out,” she said. “It will take you under the land of the Mot’jabbur. The dead warriors. You will not have to pass through their lands this way.”
Kennedy’s eyes narrowed. What if this was a trick? Maybe she had just opened the door to a pit like the one that had taken the life of one his guides just two days before. Then again, why would you build a death trap into the back of an altar?
Kennedy leaped forward, grabbed the woman by the wrist, and yanked her to him. “Tell you what, lady. You go first and show me the way.” She screamed and clawed at his arm, trying to get loose.
“No!” Brian yelled. “Take me! I’ll show you the way.” He started babbling, explaining how he had stolen the seed, replaced it with a fake, and given the real one to Maddock. He even described the woven grass pouch in which he’d placed the seed.
Kennedy was seriously considering killing him just to shut him up when a roar filled the temple, and he whirled to see a burly man with brown hair and a short beard bearing down on him, holding an ancient sword aloft. This was Hamilcar, the one who had chased him earlier. Kennedy owed him. He turned and charged.
Hamilcar’s sword sliced through empty air as Kennedy dodged to his left and delivered a swift kick to the man’s foreleg. The man was sturdily built, though, and the kick didn’t faze him. Hamilcar was also faster than Kennedy expected, and his backhanded swipe nearly opened Kennedy’s throat, but the miss left him vulnerable. Seeing the opening, Kennedy struck, and his KA-BAR opened a gash in Hamilcar’s side.
Hamilcar didn’t even wince, but took a step back and resumed his attack. The Bronze Age sword was no more than two feet long, but that still gave Hamilcar a decided reach advantage over Kennedy with his knife. Kennedy parried a thrust and danced to the side, looking for an opening.
Something flew through the air, just missing his head. Brian was atop the altar, hurling pieces of the broken urn at Kennedy’s head as fast as he could.
The distraction was almost the death of him. Hamilcar aimed a vicious thrust for his heart, but Kennedy spun at the last second. The sword whistled past him. Hamilcar had overextended his attack, and before he could draw back, Kennedy lashed out with his KA-BAR, going for the throat. Hamilcar ducked, and the blade caught him on the crown of his head, nearly taking his scalp. He roared in pain and swung his sword at Kennedy’s legs. Kennedy sprang back and crouched, ready to finish it, when a half-dozen armed men burst out of the passageway and through the antechamber.
Out of options, Kennedy turned and ran for the trapdoor.
Chapter 32
The passage spiraled downward as if a giant had twisted a corkscrew into the ground. Dane walked hunched over, one hand on the wall, the other on the cold stone above, until the ceiling was finally high enough that he could stand. Deeper into the darkness he went, with every step seeming to heap a greater weight upon him. Two thousand year-old passageways didn’t inspire confidence, but he reminded himself this place had stood for this long. Why shouldn’t it last a bit longer? He soon caught up with the others, and was pleased to see Matt had held on to his flashlight.
“You didn’t think to snag a few of those for the rest of us?” Dane joked.
“Nope. You were all guns and munchies, so that’s what I got for the rest of you. Besides, we were sort of in a hurry.” Matt let the light play around the sloping passage. The stonework was solid, with every block fitted together with precision.
Breathing easier now, Dane checked on Willis and Tam, both of whom insisted they were fine, though Willis was keeping one hand on the wall and moving slowly.
“What’s supposed to be down here?” Bones asked. “Jimmy Hoffa?”
“A subterranean river. We follow it, and it will take us to a canyon close to the lagoon where we left the boats. This way, we won’t have to fight our way through the Mot’jabbur.”
“Sweet!” Bones clapped him on the shoulder. “Looks like things are finally going our way. In fact,” he cocked his head to the side, “I think I hear the river up ahead.”
Dane listened intently, and could just make out the whisper of water running over rocks. “Great. Now, let’s take stock. What do we have in the way of weapons and provisions?”
“I have my flashlight!” Matt replied. “But you already knew that.”
Willis still had his Mossberg, but was running low on ammunition, and everyone except Tam still carried a side arm. If they did manage to avoid the Mot’jabbur, they should be okay. Food was in short supply. Everyone carried a pack with a few freeze dried meals and a canteen. They would try to supplement along the way back, but there was no reason they couldn’t make it back to what passed for civilization in these parts on what they had, though they’d all probably be a few pounds lighter when they arrived. The worst part would be listening to Bones complain, but it would hardly be the first time.