Indiana Jones and the White Witch

by Martin Caidin

  He'd heard that sound before on an expedition north of Finland in bitter winter. Cold fell upon them within an arctic blast. Cold so intense and swift that ice crystals formed in the air and rained down like glass snowflakes.

  Yet... he felt none of the cold! Through brief breaks in the mist he saw the faces of the two men contorted in fear and pain as their skin froze; their limbs seemed encased in huge blocks of ice. But this was impossible!

  He turned back to Gale. Her body trembled with some unknown effort; the knuckles of her hands ground into her temples. So great was her concentration she would have fallen were he not holding her upright.

  He heard a strangled cry of terror, choked off before it could be completed. One of the two men emerged from the icy mist, his body frozen and stiff, to begin the long slide to death down the side of the zeppelin. Indy looked quickly at Gale, then back to the second man, the one with the gun. What had been black was now ice-covered. The gun fell from his hand, bounced off the catwalk, fell from sight. Moments later, frozen as stiffly as if he had been in a bath of super-cold liquid nitrogen, their attacker began that long drop from which there could be no return.

  Gale's legs, trembling, gave way. Indy held her as close as he could in the wind and swaying of the zeppelin.

  "J-just hold me... cold... so cold," she said, huddling against him, shivering.

  They were alone on top of a floating world, racing away from the storm front, the moon shining cold and amazingly clear.

  Indy held Gale to ease her trembling. Finally he understood what had happened. Gale Parker, soul sister to Caitlin St. Brendan, raised amid sorcery and the power of the witches' clan that had endured more than a thousand years.

  "You never told me," he said to Gale, "that you could do something like this."

  She looked up, still shivering. She managed a weak, tired smile.

  "You never asked me."

  18

  Gale tended to Caitlin's wounds with the efficiency and knowledge of an experienced nurse. Indy stood and watched, helping whenever Gale requested assistance. Anyone who had spent the time, as Indy had, in distant lands, burrowing deep underground, hacking through jungles, suffering cuts, bruises, bites, stings, slashes, scrapes, torn muscles, and broken bones, could survive without the presence of a doctor. To say nothing, Indy reminded himself, of all the men with him who'd been shot, stabbed, struck with shrapnel, or gassed.

  Caitlin suffered, but with gritted teeth and in silence. Indy helped remove her outer garments, then stepped back in the cabin, sitting on the opposite bunk, as Gale carefully, almost reverently, removed the golden leathery tunic. Then, as gently as she could, but with hand pressure she knew must hurt Caitlin terribly, she pressed parts of the tunic against the worst wounds.

  Of all the wonders Indy had seen in his travels throughout the world, none matched this. The worst bleeding had already stopped from the pressure of wearing the garment woven from the scabbard of Caliburn. Now the slash wounds closed and began to seal before Indy's eyes. Gale washed away the caked blood, revealing purple and dark bruises about each wound, all the clearer now for him to witness the sorcery of Merlin.

  "How was the scabbard turned into her tunic?" Indy asked finally. He'd been told before; he wanted to hear it again.

  "Kerrie, her father, knew the ancient secrets," Gale replied. "They placed the scabbard in a caldron containing oil and other liquids to loosen the fastenings from the metal beneath. This way the leather, with its gold threads, unraveled slowly, without tearing. Then her mother, with several of the elders assisting, worked the strips on an ancient loom. That's about the only way I can describe it; everything had to be done by touch and feel. Then they stitched the strips together with more gold thread. That formed the tunic perfectly to Caitlin's size and shape, and the additional gold threads gave it great strength."

  Indy nodded. "I know she's in shock. Can she hear, can she understand us now?"

  Caitlin's voice came whispered but strong. "Yes."

  "I need to say some things to you, Caitlin. I'm asking you not to argue with me," Indy told her. "This isn't a matter of right or wrong, but of experience."

  "I will listen."

  "No matter what happens in the next day, or the next few days," Indy began, "you've got to stay out of it."

  Caitlin struggled to raise herself up on one elbow. Her look at Indy was dark and brooding. Through pain-filled eyes she managed to speak. "That is not for you to decide," she said in a tone that would not brook argument.

  Indy didn't take the hint, strong as it was. "It is for me to decide," he snapped. "Listen well to me, Caitlin." He was amazed with himself for slipping into her tone. "The authority to decide isn't a matter of who's in charge about anything," he said sternly. "Both Gale and I have placed our lives on the line for you. Several times we've been a hairsbreadth away from being killed." He gestured to forestall comment. "No one is asking you for gratitude. Gale, as she's told me and I've seen, is your soul sister. You two have been bonded through your lives."

  He took a deep breath as he looked down on Caitlin, doing her best to conceal the pain still coursing through her body. "But I'm not part of the family tree, so to speak. I'm here more because I believe in you, and Gale, than for any other reason. I don't give a hang about gold. Ancient coins, yes. Historical artifacts, yes. But even those are hardly worth skidding around the top of this blasted oversized hydrogen bag in an ice storm over the ocean! Especially when people are doing their best to slice us into strips. Okay, that's behind us. For the moment, anyway. But if someone comes after us now, you, lady, are not strong enough yet to defend yourself, and you sure as thunder can't protect us. It's the other way around right now. In short, when you're hurt, we look after you. When we're cut down and hurt, you look after us."

  He paused, knowing he was getting in over his head. "Caitlin, the long and short of it is that you can still die. You can be killed." He reached down to lift the edge of the tunic Gale was still pressing against Caitlin's wounds.

  "Not even this great magic can save you if you take a bullet through the heart, or the brain. Magic, like everything else, has its limitations. Confound it, Caitlin, we're in this together. I'm on your side. But avoiding reality won't do a thing for any of us."

  Caitlin motioned for Gale to help her sit up. She gritted her teeth, holding back any sounds to indicate the severe pain she still suffered. She closed her eyes and took long, deep breaths to clear her mind. When she opened her eyes again, they were clear and sharp.

  "If everything you say is true," she said at last to Indy, "then what Merlin hath wrought shall be put to its greatest test. If I fall, if I succumb, another will take up my sword and my banner." She looked to Gale. No words were needed to tell Indy that Gale would step forward to assume Caitlin's role were that necessary.

  "The death of my mother," Caitlin continued, softly now, "must be put to right. No matter how many others have been defeated, no matter how many have gone to the permanent terrible darkness beyond, Cordas must die. And not until that moment will my mother's spirit find peace, and the long rest awaiting her."

  Indy stared at her for a long time. He made his decision. This was not the moment for arguing. Caitlin must sleep. Her wounds were far more serious than she realized. Even with all the sorcery of past ages, her body required time to heal.

  Caitlin also recognized this. Indy's words, and what she read in his eyes, ended all resistance. "Gale, you know what I need," she said suddenly.

  Gale nodded, rose to her feet. "I'll be right back," she told Indy. She left the cabin. Less than five minutes later she returned, holding within her jacket a large vial containing a liquid unknown to Indy. Gale held the vial for her friend. Caitlin drank slowly but emptied half of it. She nodded to Gale, leaned back, and her eyes closed.

  Indy watched her breathing, deep and steady. "Is she asleep?" he asked Gale.

  "More than sleep. Yes, she sleeps, but she is also in a trance. The liquid will permit her body to
heal faster. Don't be concerned with our voices. She cannot hear us and," Gale said somberly, "we still have much to talk about."

  Slowed by the storm, more than a hundred and seventy miles off course, the Graf Zeppelin made a painful return to its former steady flight. The tears in the cotton fabric of the hull raised no alarm. The Graf had been in worse shape from wind damage before, when one entire rudder was torn open, the duralumin twisted, the cotton cover flapping like a rag. Yet even that damage had been repaired by the crew.

  Indy was far more concerned about the loss of men from the zeppelin. No one among the crew, especially its officers, seemed to have noticed anything unusual. Which was patent nonsense. Whoever kept the records of the crew and worked those men knew all too well that men had been lost overboard. There were still several men with terrible wounds aboard the airship, but Indy knew this could be explained away by the storm, throwing men against metal, causing them to fall and smash into equipment. And whoever knew what was going on was managing very well to keep the injured out of sight—not only from the passengers, but from Captain Eckener.

  A visit from Kurt Jaeger, the ship's navigator, settled most of Indy's questions. "I do not know if you are aware that during the storm last night," he began, "we suffered both illness and injury to several of our passengers."

  Jaeger hadn't come to their cabin for chitchat or a rundown on who threw up or twisted an ankle. "I must ask your confidence on another matter," he said, his words uttered slowly and carefully. "We have kept this information from the passengers, as you will understand in a moment."

  Indy and Gale glanced at one another, a silent agreement to go along with whatever this man was bringing them. Jaeger was stepping far beyond the bounds of his job.

  "During the night we sustained rather serious damage to some of the structural elements of the Graf," Jaeger went on. "It was a most tragic event. Several of our crew fell from their work positions within the hull. Some were caught by catwalks and beams, but several men also fell completely through the lower outer covering of the zeppelin. They were lost, of course, swallowed up by the ocean."

  Jaeger went silent, but Indy was immediately aware of the import of his message, and grateful for his careful phrasing of it. Indy wondered who the devil he was working for; most certainly it was not only the Zeppelin Company. For Jaeger, without specifically saying so, had just told Indy and Gale that officially, there had been no fighting within the zeppelin the previous night, that no one had battled anyone else, that everyone involved would remain nameless. And most important of all, the matter would not only be dropped from the airship's records, but what had taken place would never be noted in the logs.

  "Herr Jaeger," Gale began suddenly, "do you know—"

  Indy moved swiftly, clamping a hand across Gale's mouth. She resisted by reflex, but then went silent and unmoving as she felt a steady, deliberate pressure from Indy's hand. Slowly he removed his hand. Gale offered him a slight nod; she would go along with whatever it was he wanted.

  "Herr Jaeger, thank you for your consideration. It is..." Indy paused, searching for the proper words. "It is gratifying to know that the situation, and the records, are indeed in such capable hands."

  Jaeger offered a brief smile, aware that Indy had caught all his meaning. He bowed slightly. "Thank you, Mr. Parker. It is my fervent hope that the remainder of this flight will go smoothly for you. In perhaps thirty-six hours we will be at Lakehurst. I have sent a wireless ahead. You will be greeted upon landing and your transport will be waiting for you. I bid you pleasant voyage." He turned, closing the door quietly behind him as he departed.

  Gale stared at the closed door. She shook her head slowly before turning back to Indy. "Pinch me, I think," she whispered. "Do I get the idea that our peerless navigator does more than steer this gasbag about the skies?"

  Indy leaned back against the cabin bulkhead. "How might Merlin say it?" he murmured. He smiled at Gale. "Methinks the gentlemen doth tarry on both sides of the brook."

  Gale grimaced. "Indy, that's terrible. Talk American. Merlin would flip-flop in his grave if he could hear you."

  "With all due respect, I believe he can," Indy said softly. "However, the point you're chasing... Either Herr Jaeger is on our side, and we won't say any more than that, or he's working for both sides. I wager he's no stranger to a certain gentleman by the name of Thomas. And that is enough." He tapped the bulkhead. "Ears grow in the strangest places. We'll play it safe and drop it."

  "The, ah, visitor mentioned thirty-six hours to go. By then, Caitlin should be fully recovered."

  Indy blinked. "That's incredible. Are you sure?"

  "I've seen it before."

  "What happened?"

  "She has an affinity for animals. Almost as if they're in communication with one another," Gale said, her voice showing excitement at the memory. "One day she was in the deep woods, her hunting bow on her body, plenty of arrows in the quiver. A bear rushed her from thick undercover. That alone is unusual. Normally there's a warning of some kind. Bears are like that."

  "Was this one wounded?"

  "That was what we thought at first, but—" Gale shook her head. "Infected tooth. The animal must have been crazy with pain. It rushed her and caught her unawares. Before she could defend herself, she was slashed open by its claws. It tried to sink its teeth in her throat, but by then she had her hunting knife, the one she always carries, in one hand. The bear mauled her and got a good grip on her shoulder instead of her neck. She knew the knife couldn't kill the bear before it killed her. Caitlin never loses control. She brought up the knife and slashed the animal across its eyes. It dropped her immediately, pawing wildly at its eyes."

  "Which let Caitlin get away," Indy offered.

  "No. She wouldn't leave the animal like that. Bad as she was bleeding, and hurt, she went after the bear. Not with the knife, but she managed to get an arrow strung, and her aim was true. Right into the heart. At that close range the arrow had great penetrating power. What also saved her was the roaring of the bear as it tried to kill her. The sound carried, men came running. They found the bear dead and Caitlin, unconscious and near death herself, atop the animal. Wisely, they stopped the bleeding, kept her comfortable, and a man ran back to the Glen to get her father and the tunic made from the scabbard. It was touch and go, Indy. For a while we thought we'd lost her. Three days later Caitlin was up and about. And that bear tore her up a lot worse than what she's taken here."

  Indy shook his head. "I'm ready to believe just about anything where she's concerned." He turned to go through some papers. "Anyway, the time won't be wasted. We do not leave Caitlin alone, not for a moment. I'll have meals brought to the cabin. When we leave here, it will be with the other passengers."

  "Do we dress her again in that Japanese outfit?"

  "Yes. Let the other people see the same person leaving the ship that they saw board."

  Gale nodded. "Mind some questions?"

  "Ask away."

  "From everything you said before, Indy, you know, going over the maps, and that coded telegram, well, I'm still confused about how certain you are about where the gold is."

  "You're not alone, Gale." He laid out a map for her to study. "We're playing a game of blindman's buff. A jigsaw puzzle with broken and missing pieces. The best we can count on is that the gold was transported between Jacksonville and Steinhatchee. From that point on it is simply"—Indy shrugged with resignation—"lost."

  "But what about the railroad? The tracks should let us follow the path that the gold followed." She looked at his face. No agreement there, she saw.

  "Nice try, Gale. If we were working with should-be's you'd be right. Unfortunately, the railroad line, here"—he tapped the paper—"and here, and the points in between, is gone. After the war the South needed metals desperately. So these rail tracks, like many others, were torn up and sent to the ironworks for reprocessing into tools and other items. This is semitropical country. It didn't take long, what with heavy rains
, horses, and heavy undergrowth, to destroy any sign of the old railbeds."

  "And I suppose the roads used by the mule trains didn't fare any better," Gale said.

  Indy nodded. "Dead ends in all directions. But," he emphasized, "now we get down to guesstimates and experience in searching out other ancient sites, heavily traveled a lot earlier than this area. There are other clues and we'll be falling all over them."

  "Fascinating," she said, not quite believing Indy. She had visions of thick undergrowth, snakes, alligators, and other creatures in an abandoned countryside.

  "My opinion," Indy went on slowly, "is that the gold was lost, abandoned, or concealed somewhere between the Gulf and the Atlantic coastlines. Either on or near the site of one of the last great battles fought in that area. That means they've left clues almost everywhere."

  "And you talk about me and Caitlin using magic?" She leaned back and sighed. "You run around in riddles that would make even Merlin envious."

  Indy patted her hand. "It's all in knowing where to look and what to look for."

  "What isn't?"

  "Blast it, Gale, you're not thinking. Or more to the point, you're thinking in contemporary terms. Where we are going is like traveling down a time tunnel."

  He seemed so perturbed she paid him her full interest. "Try to imagine the war fought here. It was more than seventy years ago. No tanks, no modern artillery, no communications lines, no airplanes, no bombs from the sky. Just rough, dirty, wearying slogging, a savagery of wounds and a killing ground that turned the earth to blood. Now concentrate on the weaponry and the debris it leaves behind. That's how we'll find the greatest battles. By what they've left behind."

  "Indy, I'm trying, but I don't understand what—"