Flight of the Phoenix Page 9

  Fenix grabbed Priest’s arm. “He was inside of you.”

  Priest nodded. “He’s been tormenting me since I was reborn. Screaming at me inside my head, ordering me to kill and rape.”

  Fenix snorted. “And you had a problem with that?”

  Priest tilted his head and nodded. “Actually, I did.”

  * * * *

  While all the commotion coming from the middle of the village drew attackers and residents alike, Bryn slipped into Kivunjo’s hut. The dagger had to be here. She began a thorough search of the dim interior of the immaculately kept hut. The floor swept, bowls and eating utensils stacked neatly on a wooden bench. Bedding was folded and set against one wall along with some articles of feminine clothing. As her eyes adjusted to the dark, she spotted the altar. Skulls sat on a low table, bowls filled with offerings of food and some kind of crushed stone sat in front of the skulls. A rattle, feathers and a lion’s tail lay on one side. Something had been placed near the offering bowls wrapped in a golden skin. Power emanated from the bundle. She touched it and knew the dagger was inside.

  Bryn snatched the wrapped bundle and held it close to her heart. Heat radiated from the small package; heat and power. Filled with a sudden sense of wellbeing and infallibility, Bryn raced out of the hut. The screaming and shrieking in the center of the village had stopped. She had to find Fenix.

  The sight that greeted her eyes when she reached the center of the village was incredible. A wizened old man cavorted naked in the center of a crowd of warriors from the village and the attacking party. Vampires stood frozen with shock. Draak Priest hovered close to her sister. And then Bryn noticed the old man was growing taller, his skin smoothing out as ropy muscles appeared in his chest and arms.

  She ran to Fenix. Ignoring Priest, she grabbed Fenix and tugged on her arm. “What the hell is going on here?”

  Fenix pointed at the dancing man. “Cardinal Malenfant.”

  “What?”

  “He was living inside of my head,” Priest said. “He’s evil.”

  The dagger in Bryn’s arms heated. She hugged it tightly and the power of the artifact spoke to her. “He’s only partially here,” she said to Priest and her sister. “The cardinal is a ghost.”

  Priest shook his head. “No, no, he’s as real as you or I.”

  “It’s an illusion,” Bryn snarled. “And why am I talking to you anyway? Come on, Fenix. I completed our mission.”

  Priest whirled on her. His face and robes were coated with blood, his own and that of the many who had just died here. His face, so recently youthful, was lined and old. “You found the dagger! Give it to me. It’s mine. I must have it.”

  He snatched at the wrapped bundle in Bryn’s arms, snagged the golden skin holding the artifact, and tore it off. The dagger was revealed and Fenix gasped. Her surprised exhalation drew the evil attention of Malenfant. He spotted the dagger in Bryn’s arms, shot toward her with supernatural speed, grabbed the dagger out of her hands and disappeared into thin air with it clutched in his claw-like hands.

  The three of them stared at the spot where he’d disappeared with horrified eyes, stunned into immobility for several moments before Bryn began screaming. “I lost it,” she wailed.

  In her entire life, Bryn had never felt so robbed, so thwarted. All of her plans to end the curse had rested in that dagger which just seconds ago, she’d had in her possession.

  She fell to her knees sobbing. “It’s gone. It’s gone. I was so close.”

  Fenix dropped into a crouch beside Bryn and wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders. “We’ll find him and get it back.”

  Bryn closed her eyes. “I thought our quest was finally over. I thought I’d succeeded. Now all of my hopes and dreams are gone, snatched right out of my hands by a specter.” She rounded on Priest. “This is all your fault. You brought him here.”

  “I didn’t mean to. He was in my head. How was I supposed to know he’d suddenly exit my brain and steal the dagger?”

  “You should have stopped him,” Bryn wailed. “And to think, he was only a ghost and he now has the dagger.”

  “No, he was real,” Priest said. “When he came out of my head, he was real.”

  “He can probably slide in and out of his corporeal body,” Bryn said as she heaved a sigh of resignation. “Or maybe he’s part of both worlds because he was dead and then reborn from blood. I bet the vampire blood is what did it. Vampire blood is filled with a strange life of its own.” She thought for a moment. “And then the dagger was here adding its immense power to the mixture. It was a bizarre and unique set of happenstances and it produced whatever he is.”

  “How can we track him if he can go between worlds?” Priest said. His entire demeanor was of someone worn to the bone; dispirited and tired almost to the point of death.

  A sudden panicked screech echoed through the village followed by frantic screams. “We have to run,” Fenix yelled. “Kivunjo must have discovered the dagger is gone.”

  The war between the two tribes had been resurrected. The remaining vampires gathered around Bryn, Fenix and Priest protecting them. Tures grabbed Fenix by the arm. “Lazarus would come back to give me the true death if I let anything happen to you.”

  Bryn didn’t have time to wonder what that meant. Lazarus was dead and gone. They grouped in the protective circle of the vampires and took off for the escarpment and the camp. As the vampires sliced their way through the screaming, hysterical natives, more blood flowed and the vampires increased the fury of their fighting fueled by the excessive violence and the presence of huge quantities of human blood.

  Suddenly, Kivunjo was in front of them surrounded by his warriors. He wore white paint over his black skin turning him an ashy ghost-like gray. His lion-mane headdress stuck out around his head stiff with blood like a crazy halo, while his eyes glowed with the red light of insanity and his lips were drawn back in a feral snarl. “My knife! You white devils stole my precious dagger. Kill them!” He ordered his warriors in Bantu. “Find my dagger.”

  The natives threw themselves into the fray with zeal, attacking the phalanx of vampires even though they must have known it was an impossible task and were filled with fear of the supernatural. Kivunjo urged them on and their insane terror of him overpowered their fear of the undead. But they were quickly hampered as the warriors from outside their village fell on them with renewed fury from behind. The vampires punched a hole in the confusion and Tures dragged Fenix through. Bryn stayed close behind Fenix followed by Draak Priest who seemed lost and unsure of himself.

  When they were out of the village and halfway up the cliff to the escarpment, Bryn turned and shoved Priest in the chest. “Go away. You’re not wanted here. I’d kill you, but I’ve seen enough blood this day to last me the rest of my life no matter how long it is.”

  Priest lifted sad dark eyes to stare at her. “I have nowhere to go.”

  Bryn’s head dropped. It was like kicking a wounded dog. “We have been enemies for centuries, Draak Priest. Crawl back into the hole you crawled out of.”

  He scrambled up the hill behind her. “I won’t be any trouble. I can be of help tracking down Malenfant. We have a connection. He was alive in my head. Surely that will enable me to at least locate him and the dagger.”

  Bryn sighed. He could be right. “Fine, but I don’t trust you and I definitely don’t like you.”

  When they reached the escarpment and the camp, Bryn raced for the tent she shared with Quinn. She needed to see him, to know he was safe and on his way back to good health. She was halfway across the clearing when Sam erupted from the tent with a horrified expression on her face. Bryn grabbed her former lover’s shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

  Sam’s eyes filled with tears. “I only left him alone for a second to watch what was going on in the village. I swear, it was only for a few minutes.”

  Bryn shook Sam hard. “What are you saying?”

  “Quinn…he’s gone.”

  Chapter 15


  Bryn led a small party down the side of a huge waterfall. It dropped out of the mountains and into the lake beside Kivunjo’s village. Quinn’s tracks along with broken limbs and crushed vegetation had led her this way. Never had she longed for Fingle, her trusty tracker, so much. But her connection to Quinn was strong and she felt him moving ahead of her, disoriented, sick and out of his head. There must have been another of the disgusting loa loa in his mouth that they had missed.

  Fenix trailed behind, but Tures had taken Sam and her vampires to gather the fuel they needed for the undersea vessel. Her sister now possessed powers Bryn didn’t understand. Fenix was stronger and faster than her, almost as fast as a vampire. The blood she’d shared with Lazarus had obviously been the transforming factor. Hearing Tures speak of Lazarus like he stilled lived also disturbed her. Was he communicating with Fenix in some hidden way? Fenix had so much self-confidence and assurance. Her baby sister was gone replaced by this mature and powerful person Bryn did not know or trust.

  And then there was Draak Priest. Bryn glanced over her shoulder. Their evil nemesis now wanted only to help them. His possession by Cardinal Malenfant had given him new insight into the dark psyche of pure evil. He seemed to want none of it, but Bryn didn’t trust him or his transformation.

  Tures had flatly refused to help Bryn find her lover. With Tomlinson, the Commodore and Fingle back at Stanley Falls Station working on the strange aircraft, their numbers had seriously dwindled.

  “Can you sense him?” Fenix asked.

  “I don’t think he’s too far ahead. When we get to the bottom of the falls, I hope to be able to see him or pick up a trail.”

  Fenix suddenly stopped. “Look, see this?”

  She pointed to a broken twig completely stripped of leaves and hanging off a stunted tree precariously attached to a small deposit of dirt in a crevice. A narrow ledge led right into the falling water. “It looks as though Quinn walked into the water.”

  Bryn dropped to examine the stony path. She saw a scuff mark and stood up. “You’re right. He went into the water. Why would he do that?” She leaned over the edge to stare down into the pool far below. “I don’t think he went over the falls. He’d be floating.”

  Fenix shrugged.

  Draak Priest pulled himself onto the ledge. He reached his hands toward the water. “There’s a chamber behind the water.”

  Fenix nodded. “I think he’s right.”

  Bryn groaned. “Fine, I shall check.”

  She inched along the ledge until the spray of water grew so heavy she was afraid of being swept away. A sudden gust of air blew the spray away from the cliff side and Bryn clearly saw a dark shadow appear in the rock face. There was a cave. She turned and waved Fenix and Priest forward, then leaped into the darkness.

  She landed on a slippery, slime-coated rock floor, slid forward and fell, scraping her leg. Fenix jumped in after her followed by Priest, who teetered on the brink screaming for help. Fenix reached through the water and snagged him before he tumbled over the falls.

  They paused in the huge entrance of the cave staring around in wonder. It was obviously man-made. Tool marks were apparent on the ceiling, walls and even the floor. This cave had once been either inhabited or used by humans for some important purpose.

  “Look,” Bryn knelt in the slime and pointed at a sliding foot print in the algae. “Quinn was here.”

  Fenix shook her head and stared long and hard into the darkness. “Why did he come this way? Surely he didn’t just stumble up the side of a waterfall and into this cave. Something or someone must have led him here.”

  “He’s mad with fever,” Bryn said. “It can’t be anything more. He’s not a sensitive. He can’t read minds or feel spirits.”

  “I’m sorry,” Fenix mumbled. “But there’s no way he just wandered in here. Something is pulling him or he’d stop and rest. He feels driven. Like he’s on a mission, but not one of his own making.”

  Bryn sighed. “Perhaps.”

  She began following Quinn’s tracks. They led toward an arched entrance into the very heart of the mountain. “It’s dark in there. We need a light.”

  “Like this?” Priest held up an old torch.

  “Where did you get that?” Bryn took the torch. It had a wooden handle topped by linen strips soaked in fragrant tree sap. “This thing is ancient.”

  Priest pointed to a rack set against the wall with dozens of the torches. Fenix gathered two and handed one to Priest. “I suggest we only light one. There’s no telling how deep this tunnel is or how far we will have to walk to find Quinn.”

  “I guess he doesn’t need to see,” Bryn said. “You must be right, Fenix. He’s being driven somewhere, called by something. Concentrate and see if you can discern a call or a telepathic signal or voice.”

  Bryn tapped the end of the torch with the end of one finger and lit it. The sudden flare illuminated writing over the arched doorway into the rock face of the mountain. “Can you read that?” She asked Fenix.

  Fenix shook her head. “It’s not like any writing I’ve ever seen. How about you Draak?”

  She turned and saw Priest staring at the writing with wide open horrified eyes. Bryn groaned. “I guess he can. What does it say, Draak?”

  “Those who enter live only to serve and feed Sakarabru. All hail Sakarabru.”

  Bryn gasped. “That’s the demon of darkness, the exact opposite of Ra. He was said to live in the Mountains of the Moon.”

  Fenix nodded. “And that is where we are. Draak. What’s Sakarabru supposed to look like?”

  Draak shook his head. “I’ve heard he’s huge, with an enormous nose, big teeth and skin like leather. He has clawed hands and feet and lives in the deepest depths of the mountain. His chin is rumored to be pointed and he wears a goatee but has no hair on his head.”

  Bryn walked to the entrance and glared into the darkness. “Perfect. And he’s hungry as well. Quinn, what have you gotten us into this time?”

  * * * *

  They entered the tunnel system beneath the terrifying words, walking into an arched passageway carved out of the living rock. The air was cool and damp. Every once in a while a strange breeze wafted up from below. The draft smelled like rotten meat. “There’s something dead down there,” Fenix said.

  Bryn kept walking in front of their small column, keeping a brisk pace. “I don’t think it’s just one dead thing,” she said. “It smells like a charnel house.”

  “I sense great power below us,” Priest said in a mournful tone. “Power such as we have never known. Do we really have to go this way? I thought we needed to follow Cardinal Malenfant and the dagger.”

  “We do,” Bryn snapped. “But not until we have Quinn.” She stopped and grabbed Priest by the front of his cassock. Fenix had to dive out of the way. “You may leave at any time. No one invited you to accompany us.”

  “I have nowhere else to go. I can’t wander around the jungle by myself.”

  “You can turn into a dragon and go anywhere.”

  “That’s one of my problems. I’m having difficulty transforming into my dragon form. You of course, can still become the crow, but I am stuck in this hideous old body. We must find the dagger so I can regain my youth. When Malenfant left me, I returned to being a seventy-year-old man. I loved being young, and seeing life through his evil eyes changed me. I’m good now. I swear.”

  Bryn let him go and began trekking down the dark passage again. “That remains to be seen,” she said over her shoulder. “Good is much more than just a word. You’ll have to prove to me you’ve changed.”

  The tunnel began to abruptly drop. The floor slanted down at a steep angle. Water flowed out of the rock, creating a stream bed on the trail making it slippery, slimy and dangerous. Priest suddenly fell onto his face and belly. Fenix leaped out of the way as he took off sliding down the steep decline. Bryn didn’t dodge in time. Priest knocked her over. She landed on her back and took off after him, sliding down into the darkness. Her tor
ch dropped to the floor and sputtered.

  Fenix grabbed the torch keeping the flame alive and carefully followed them. Far below, she heard a splash and cursing followed by another splash. There must be a pool of water at the bottom. She hurried as fast as she could down the dangerous trail. When she hit water, she cautiously waded down the submerged path. Bryn abruptly appeared out of the darkness. She was dripping wet and angry. “That ass tried to kill me.”

  Fenix stifled a giggle. There was nothing funny about where they were. She reached out and twitched a lock of Bryn’s hair out of her face. “He didn’t mean to fall, dear one. The path was slippery.”

  Bryn wanted no comforting. She brushed Fenix’s hand away and waded into the dark. “Come with me. The pool is deep. I think we need to cross it.”

  “Can you see if Quinn was here or not?”

  Bryn said nothing, just held up a scrap of leather. Fenix recognized the piece as belonging to Quinn’s breeches. Priest surged out of the water on the far bank of the pool, and Fenix started swimming behind Bryn, carefully holding the torch out of the water. It was the only one they had now. The remaining two were lost.

  On the other side of the pool, the stench became stronger. The cavern ceiling was high above their heads. Priest was visibly shivering. “I’m so cold,” he moaned. “My bones ache. Oh, how I miss my youth. Curse you, Malenfant. I’ll find you if it’s the last thing I do.”

  “Hush,” Bryn snapped. “I hear something.”

  A sudden scream halted them for a second and then Bryn began running. “That was Quinn!”

  Chapter 16

  Quinn’s eyes fluttered open. Where was he? Inside his mouth, a terrible pain had blossomed into an all-consuming agony. He fought the scream that welled up in his throat. His clothes were soaked and all around him rose a miasma of stinking, rotting flesh. A claw reached down and poked him. He opened his eyes and found himself staring into golden orbs the size of dinner plates with a black pupil running from the top to the bottom like a cat’s. A huge maw opened and Quinn saw row after row of sharp teeth. The golden dragon’s breath rolled over him, stinking of sulfur and death. He closed his eyes. Maybe the dragon would eat him and then the pain in his mouth and throat would end.