his long muscular arms whipped around Nicholas's neck like the tentacles
of an octopus.
The two of them came to the surface for a moment, both of them drew one
quick, harsh breath, then Helm forced Nicholas's head backwards and
water flooded into his open mouth. The lock on his neck tightened, and
he felt the tension on his vertebrae. It was a killer grip. If Helm had
only had a solid purchase he could have exerted the last ounce of
pressure which would have snapped his spine. But Nicholas kept rolling
back in the direction of the thrust, giving with it, and preventing Helm
from bringing all his strength to bear. As he went over he saw Helm's
face in front of his, magnified and distorted through the tainted grey
water. He looked monstrous and evil.
As Helm rolled over the top of him Nicholas locked both hands around his
waist to hold him firmly, then brought up his right knee between Helm's
legs, hard into his crotch, and felt the bone of his kneecap make
contact.
The bunch of genitals was full and rubbery; Helm contorted and his lock
on Nicholas's neck eased. Nicholas used the slack to reach down and grab
a handful of Helm's damaged testicles and twist them savagely. He saw
the man's face inches in front of his own twist into a rictus of pain
and Helm pulled away from him, releasing his lock on Nicholas's throat
and reaching down to grab his wrist with both hands.
Again they came to the surface close alongside the floating log, and
Nicholas realized that the current had taken hold of them again and was
carrying them away through the outlet of Taita's pool into the full
stream of the river. Nicholas released his grip on Helm's balls and with
his other hand aimed a punch at his face, but they were too close to
each other and the blow lacked power. It glanced off Helm's cheek, and
Nicholas tried to lock his extended arm around his neck, going for a
headlock himself Helm hunched his head down on his shoulders slipping
under the hold. Then suddenly he reached for-ward fast as a striking
adder and sank his teeth into Nicholas's chin.
The surprise was complete, and the pain was excruciating as his teeth
locked into the flesh. Nicholas shouted and clawed at Helm's face, going
for his eyes, trying to drive his fingernails through the lids. But Helm
squeezed his eyes tight closed and his teeth cut in ever deeper, so that
Nicholas's blood welled up and oozed from the corners of Helm's mouth.
The log was still floating beside them, inches from the back of Helm's
head. Nicholas seized his ears, one in each hand, and twisted him around
in the water. He could see over the top of Helm's head, while Helm's
vision was blocked. There was a nub of raw wood sticking out of the tree
trunk where an axe had hacked away a, ride branch.
The cut was at an angle, leaving a sharp spike. Through tears of agony
Nicholas lined up the spike with the back of Helm's head. He could feel
Helm's teeth almost meeting in the flesh of his face. They had cut
through the lower lip so that blood was starting to fill Nicholas's
mouth. Helm was worrying him like a pit'bull in the arena, wrenching his
head from side to side. Soon he would come away with a bloody mouthful
of Nicholas's flesh.
With all the strength of pain and desperation, Nicholas hurled himself
forward, and, using his upper body and his grip on the sides of Helm's
head, drove him on to the sharp wooden spike. The point found the joint
between the vertebrae of the spine and the base of Helm's skull, going
in like a nail and partially severing the spinal cord.
Helm's jaws sprang open as he went into spasm. Nicholas pulled away from
him with a flap of loose flesh hanging from his chin, and blood
streaming and spurting from the deep ragged wound.
Helm was impaled upon the spike, like a carcass on a butcher's hook. His
limbs twitched and the muscles of his face convulsed, his eyelids
shivered and jumped like those of an epileptic, and his eyeballs rolled
back into his skull so that only the whites showed, flashing grotesquely
in the gloom of the chasm.
Nicholas pulled himself up on to the tog beside the Texan's body, and
hung there panting and bleeding in gouts down his chin on to his chest.
Slowly the log revolved un er the eccentric weight distribution, and
Helm began to slide off the spike. His skin tore with a sound like silk
parting, and the vertebrae of his spine grated on wood.
Then the corpse, at last quiescent, flopped face down into the water and
began to sink.
Nicholas would not let him go so easily. "Let's make sure of you, dear
boy," he grated through his swollen, bleeding mouth. He spat out a
mouthful of blood and saliva as he stretched out and grabbed the back of
Helm's collar, holding him face down in the water under the log. They
icked up speed rapidly down the last stretch of the canyon, but
Nicholas held on doggedly, drowning any last spark of life from Helm's
carcass, until at last it was torn. from his grip by the current and he
watched it sink away into the grey, roiling waters.
"I'll give your love to Tessay," Nicholas called after him as he
disappeared. Then he gave all his concentration to balancing the log and
staying aboard for the ride through the tumbling, racing current. At
last he was spewed out -AL
through the pink rock portals into the bottom reach of the DandeTa
river. As he was swept beneath the rope suspension bridge he slid off
the log and struck out for the western bank, very much aware of the
terrible drop into the Nile that lay half a mile downstream.
Sitting on the bank, he tore a strip from the tail of his shirt. Then he
bound up his wounded chin as best he could, strapping it around the back
of his head. The blood soaked through the thin wet cotton, but he
knotted it tighter and it began to staunch the flow.
He stood up unsteadily and pushed his way through the strip of thick
river in bush which bounded the river, until at last he struck the trail
that led down to the monastery and hobbled down it on his bare feet. He
only stopped once, and that was when he heard the sound of the
helicopter taking off from the top of the cliff above the chasm far
behind him.
He looked back. "Sounds as though Tuma Nogo made it out of there, more's
the pity. I wonder what happened to von Schiller and the Egyptian," he
muttered grimly, fingering his injured face. "At least none of them are
going to get into the tomb, not unless they dam the river again."
Suddenly a thought occurred to him.
"My God, what if von Schiller was already in there when the river hit!"
He began to chuckle, and then shook his head. "Too much to hope for.
justice is never that neat." He shook his head again, but the movement
started his wound aching brutally. He clutched his bandaged jaw with one
hand and started down the trail again, breaking into a trot as he
reached the paved causeway that led down to the monastery.
ahoot Guddabi ran full into von Schiller around a corner of the maze,
and in a peculiar way the old man's presence, even thoug he was of no
conceivable value in this crisis, steadied him and kept at bay the panic
that threatened at any moment to boil over and overwhelm him. Without
Hansith the maze was a weird and lonely place. Any human company was a
blessing. For a moment the two of them clung together like children lost
in the forest.
Von Schiller still carried part of the treasure that they had been
examining when Hansith had panicked and run.
He had Pharaoh's golden crook in one hand and the ceremonial flail in