Sam followed the trail of blood, more convinced than ever he was existing in a nightmare. After several minutes of groping his way towards the source of the light, he saw a narrow opening in the wall just large enough for a full-grown man to squeeze through. Sam peered through the constricted opening. A large stone sarcophagus dominated the tomb, but in the far corner, Sam saw a rebel soldier wearing a suicide vest, on his hands and knees in the act of prayer. The man was rocking from side to side and moaning as if in sorrowful supplication. Sam saw the detonator hanging from the man’s belt and calculated whether he could rush over and cut the wires before the soldier could detonate his jacket. The man was preoccupied with his invocations so Sam squeezed through the tiny gap like a shadow, with his Swiss Army Knife in hand. He had taken two strides into the tomb when the man turned his head towards Sam from the floor of the tomb and scrambled for his detonator. But his right hand was shaking and he struggled to grasp it.
‘Help me!’ the man implored as he looked at Sam. An eight-foot Egyptian cobra was wrapped around his left arm and its fangs were buried deep into his wrist. Drops of blood seeped from the man’s eyes, ears and nose as the snake’s toxins thinned his blood. Vomit dribbled from his chin and pooled onto the floor in front of him.
Sam backed away from the gruesome sight as two heavy iron bars dropped from a hidden cavity above the narrow doorway and locked into receptors in the floor with a click. Sam tugged at the bars but they were locked in place and there was no room to squeeze around them. Great, thought Sam, I’m imprisoned in a tomb with a suicide bomber and a vicious cobra for company. What else could go possibly wrong?
He stepped back from the barred doorway to seek an alternative exit, and noticed a deep crevice near the bottom of the wall to the right of the doorway. He peered into the crevice and noticed a rusty metallic lever near the back of the hole. Sam suspected it had something to do with the iron bars that blocked his escape, but the crevice was thick with cobwebs and scuttling insects. He looked at the man on the floor and noticed the cobra had lost interest in its victim and was now staring at Sam with vicious hostility. It unwound its coils from around the man’s arm and extended its hood. Sam put his arm into the hole and felt for the lever. His arm disappeared to his elbow as his fingers groped for the rusty metallic lever. A cockroach scuttled up his arm and his fingers brushed against something soft, cold and reptilian. He jerked his arm back, but he felt the searing pain of the creature’s twin fangs as they buried themselves deep into his hand. ‘Shit! Not again!’ Sam pulled out his arm and examined the deep puncture wounds on his right hand. He saw the yellow snake venom mixed in with his blood. Within seconds, his hand tingled in excruciating pain and his arm felt heavy and numb. His head swam and he had difficulty retaining his balance. His stomach knotted and he became nauseous. The floor pitched and rolled and Sam had to drop to his hands and knees to stop himself from keeling over. From somewhere deep in his tortured brain, he heard the iron bars that imprisoned him in the tomb rise from the floor and retract back into the roof. He tried to look over his shoulder towards the doorway, but his limbs and neck muscles refused to respond.
He became aware of a powerful leonine odour and a low, guttural growl vibrated off the stone sarcophagus. The hairs at the back of his neck stood on end. The temperature in the tomb plummeted and Sam’s failing breath clouded around him as he exhaled. He raised his eyes towards the rebel soldier and saw the cobra slither away and into a hole in the corner of the tomb. The soldier raised his eyes towards the doorway and they bulged in terror. He tried to scream, but no sound emerged from his constricted throat.
Sam heard the soft padding of feet behind him and once more he tried to raise his head, but the toxin in his bloodstream had left him paralysed and his vision was blurring. It was all he could do to stay on his hands and knees.
The creature padded past him and Sam caught a glimpse of booted feet as it approached the suicide bomber. Its legs were muscular like those of an athlete, yet feminine and shapely. He could see a frayed brown leather skirt and a long steel sword hung from a scabbard strapped to its waist. Try as he might, Sam could not lift his pounding head to look at the creature’s face. As his vision blurred further, he heard the sound of the steel sword scrape from its scabbard. At the extent of his peripheral vision, he saw the blurred outline of the creature’s hand grasp a handful of the martyr’s hair and jerk his head upwards, exposing his throat. Then with a swift stroke, the creature severed the soldier’s head from its body and tossed it into the corner like a rotten cabbage.
Sam felt bile rise in his throat as the creature padded towards him with its bloodied sword raised in preparation for a second strike. Sam’s chest constricted and his breathing was shallow. The creature grasped his hair and jerked his head upwards to expose his throat.
Summoning all his strength, Sam blurted, ‘I know the whereabouts of the errant priest you seek, my lady.’ His throat was as dry as sandpaper and his voice feeble.
The grip on his hair loosened and the bloodied sword was lowered.
‘You know of the priest?’ The creature’s voice was hoarse and accented with a strange dialect.
‘I know him.’
‘Where is he?’
Sam’s vision faded to black and he became drowsy. ‘I’m dying, my lady. I can’t think clearly.’
‘Would you like me to end to your suffering?’
The toxins in Sam’s body were spreading fast and it was only a matter of minutes before his vital organs shut down. He managed to nod his head and prepared himself for death.
Once more the creature grasped his hair and then plunged a sharp needle-like object into his neck. He felt an ice-cold liquid trickle into his veins. Slowly his vision cleared and the pressure in his chest receded. The headache that had threatened to explode inside his skull eased and the vertigo that had pinned him to the floor vanished. His limbs were still weak and his head was too heavy to lift. He tried to rise from the floor, but he realised it would be some time before he could stand. He could only stare at the creature’s deer-skin boots.
‘The temple is under attack and Sienna is in danger. I must warn her,’ Sam said.
‘The priest?’
‘The men who have invaded your temple are dangerous. There isn’t a minute to lose.’
‘They are of little consequence to me. The priest and his brethren are a far greater threat. They must be destroyed.’
‘Who are the brethren?’
‘They have usurped my religion for their own ends and they threaten the world. If you know the whereabouts of the priest – their leader, you must tell me.’
‘I know him, but he is protected. I can help you destroy him.’ Sam felt the feeling return to his lower arms and torso. With a mighty effort, he managed to sit on his knees but his head was still heavy and his legs paralysed. Once more he tried to gaze at the creature’s face, but he could not lift his head. He exhaled in frustration. He needed to see who or what was responsible for his suffering. But he sensed something about the creature had changed. The strong leonine smell had dissipated and in its place Sam recognised the familiar scent of frankincense. The shape of the creature’s legs looked less powerful than he remembered, and more feminine.
‘Why is the priest so important to you?’ Sam asked.
‘The priest betrayed his sacred oath. He is using the knowledge he gained in the temple to further his own egotistical needs. While he lives, he puts the fate of the world in dire peril.’
Sam thought hard. ‘Did this priest also betray his position of trust when your Oracle arrived at your temple as a young girl, twenty years ago?’
The creature was silent for a while. ‘My Oracle was most grievously abused.’
‘You have my word I will track him down, but right now I need to protect the Oracle and the temple from the intruders.’
The creature sheathed its sword and drew Sam’s head in towards its tattered leather skirt. It let Sam’s head rest against the apex of i
ts legs while it ran its fingers through his hair.
‘The four murderous assassins within the temple have all been dealt with, but there are a hundred more waiting outside. One of their number is your own flesh and blood.’
‘My own flesh and blood? I don’t understand,’ Sam said.
‘You will understand in due course. But you will need to be at your most shrewd to protect the temple and my Oracle.’ The creature’s voice had softened and its thick accent had almost disappeared.
The creature stepped back and out of Sam’s field of vision. He noticed the temperature in the tomb had lifted by several degrees. As the serum chased away the last of the venom in Sam’s nervous system, the feeling in his legs and neck returned. His muscles were still stiff but he picked himself up off his knees and raised his head to look into the face of who or what had confronted him.
The heavy scent of frankincense still pervaded the tomb, but there was no sign of the goddess or her Oracle.
CHAPTER 23
Sam found no trace of Sienna in the inner sanctum of the temple, and he had no intention of wandering through the trap-infested maze of corridors that led to the temple’s library. Instead, he took the short corridor that led to the courtyard in the hope she’d had the sense to exit the temple before the main attack commenced.
As he approached the temple entrance, he heard Arabic voices muttering in the courtyard. A full moon and bright stars shone overhead, making discovery a real possibility. Sam kept to the shadows and slipped into the cool air outside. He skirted around the edge of the rock face, looking for the concealed entrance that would take him outside the sandstone edifice and into the desert beyond.
Just as he spotted the gap in the sandstone rock, he was dazzled by a white flash and the crump of a hand grenade. The rebel’s second wave was making its belated attack on the temple complex. A dozen veteran fighters poured into the corridor from which he had emerged not two minutes before. Their AK-47 rifles blazed and Sam prayed Sienna had indeed escaped. He suspected she would be shown no mercy by the zealous rebel army.
Sam snuck through the tiny rock entrance, almost under the nose of a lone sentry who had taken that moment to empty his bladder against the wall. Sam heard the distant rattling of a machine gun echo from the confines of the temple and the crump of another grenade. With his back against the outside of the sandstone monolith, he surveyed the rebel army positions as best he could in the reflected light of the stars. In the distance, their rocket emplacements were pointing southwards away from the rock, and the eighty or so reserve troops were facing outwards as if they believed their rear was secured by the rock. Half a kilometre away, Sam could just make out the strange, mushroom-shaped rock where Cantara had crashed the Sirius over a week before. I’ll head to the rock to check if there’s any trace of the Sirius, he decided. There’s a two-way radio in the car – I might be able to summon help. The mushroom-shaped rock was located well away from the main rebel position and its bulk would shield him from casual observation at least until sunrise.
As he approached the spot where the Sirius should have been, he saw nothing but a mound of sand that had been blown there by the khamsin. ‘Shit!’ Sam swore in frustration, but then he noticed a glint of metal reflecting the moonlight that he recognised as part of the car’s roofline. Sam brushed away more of the sand and exposed the entire roof. As far as he could tell in the dark, the delicate solar paint had not been damaged.
Sam laboured into the night, digging the Sirius out of the sand with his bare hands. His wound ached and the pain in his ribs had become unbearable. At last, he eased himself through the broken passenger window and into the car. It was pitch black and Sam had to feel for the two-way radio with his hands. He pushed the power button on the transmitter but the radio’s battery had discharged. Sam squeezed across to the driver’s seat and felt for the keys. They were still in the ignition, but as he suspected, the main battery had also discharged. Sam worried the delicate electronics may not have survived the rocket attack and the car would not recharge when the sun rose in the morning. Sam pulled out the shovel from the back seat. He would use the remaining hours of darkness to free the Sirius from the grip of the desert sands.
* * *
As the first rays of sun rose over the horizon, Sam smoothed over the artificial mound of sand he had created to hide the Sirius from casual view. For good effect, he scattered a few desiccated bushes on top of the mound. Any rebel sentries looking across from the sandstone monolith would not see the car unless they approached within twenty metres. Sam had changed the damaged wheel and had removed as much of the sand and debris from inside and around the car as he could. It was a long shot, but if the car’s electronics and mechanics were still serviceable, it would give him a chance of escape.
Sam headed back to the monolith and decided to scale the fifty-metre-high edifice from its east face. He wanted to see if he could assess the rebels’ position both inside the natural hollow and outside the rock where the main body of troops were dug in near the geologist’s encampment. The sandstone rock offered plenty of handholds and he arrived at the summit in fifteen minutes. He crept along the summit, keeping his profile as low as he could until he came to the lip of the hollow. About ten rebel troops were lounging in the vegetable garden near the temple entrance. Closer to the centre of the hollow, a broad, open space the size of a football field dominated the scene. Sam imagined in centuries gone by it might have been a marketplace or gathering ground for the faithful. To the north, Sam spotted a natural archway in the hollow that led out to the desert. It would have been impossible to see the archway from the ground as it was protected by a natural fold of rock that obscured it from view and created a natural defensive barricade against any attacking forces. The archway had been built in ancient times so it was large enough for a chariot to pass through, but any attacking force would have to negotiate a series of sharp bends to get around the protruding fold of rock.
Sam froze as he saw a group of four rebel soldiers leading Sienna and the elderly servant Sneferu out of the temple. One of the rebels shoved Sienna in the back with his rifle butt and she stumbled on the rocky path leading to the garden. Sam scanned the hollow fifty metres below. There were at least fourteen well-armed veterans in the courtyard and possibly more hidden in the shadows. One of the rebels was brandishing a sharp knife and another was setting up a camera on a tripod as if preparing to film her imminent execution.
Sam decided to return to the Sirius to think through his strategy. He could already feel the heat from the rising sun. He rushed down the steep eastern slope of the monolith and five minutes later, he was at the controls of the Sirius. He touched the screen on the computer console, but the Sirius did not respond. Every attempt at coaxing life from the car was futile. He leaned back in frustration and stared out of the windscreen as the sun blazed on the car. A faint whirring deep within the dashboard caused him to sit up. Seconds later, the slight chill of air conditioning cooled his face. The computer console flickered then sprang to life as the battery indicator displayed ten per cent. ‘Yes!’ Sam grabbed the two-way radio and switched it on. He heard the crackle of static from the car’s speakers. The loud noise made Sam jump and he turned down the volume lest he draw the attention of a passing patrol. He pushed the transmit button and spoke into the transmitter.
‘This is Sam Jardine requesting emergency assistance. Over.’ He listened for a reply, but received only static by way of reply. He repeated his message five times and changed channels to one used by Tom Bradshaw and his team of geologists before their demise.
‘This is Sam Jardine requesting emergency assistance. Over.’
After the final attempt, he threw the transmitter in the passenger seat in frustration and focused his attention on the Sirius’s computer screen. The battery was thirty per cent charged and Sam pushed the green ignition button. The lights on the dashboard flared and the familiar surge of power rippled from the engine.
A burst of static hissed
from the speakers.
‘Sam? Sam, is that you? My God, please let it be you.’ Sam’s spirits soared as he heard Cantara’s sweet voice. He grabbed the transmitter.
‘Yes Cantara, it’s me.’
‘Is that really you? Where are you, Sam? Everyone has given you up for dead. We were going to head back to Cairo if we couldn’t find you today.’
‘I’m in the same spot where you left me. It’s a long story, but the temple is under attack and Sienna is a hostage. I think they’re going to execute her.’
‘Sienna? You found her?’
‘There isn’t a moment to lose. Are you in touch with the Rapid Deployment Forces?’
‘I’m at the military base of El Kharga. It’s about four hours away by car, but there are two Apache attack helicopters still here.’
‘Cantara, they’ve set up an anti-aircraft missile battery. They’ll shoot down the helicopters.’
‘Look, Rania is here with me. I’ll put her on.’ There was silence on the radio for a minute before the minister of internal security burst onto the car radio.
‘Hello, Sam? Thank goodness you’re alive! Look, we’ll get you out of there in about half an hour. Are you somewhere safe? Things are going to warm up pretty quickly. Cantara tells me there is a missile battery nearby?’
The Last Oracle: A Climate Fiction Thriller (Sam Jardine Crime Thrillers Book 3) Page 17