The Seventh Scroll tes-2

by Wilbur Smith

  recognizable as human.

  17"

  by the time it was discharged through the butterfly fountain on the far

  side' of the mountain. From there the torn fragments were washed down

  the diverted Dandera river to join, at last, the wider and more stately

  waters of the Blue Nile.

  he waters pouring through the gap in the dam i wall picked up the yellow

  front-loader and tumbled it over the waterfall into the chasm as though

  it were a child's toy. Nicholas had a glimpse of it in the air below

  him. Even as he fell himself, he realized that if he had stayed with the

  machine he would have been crushed beneath it. The huge machine struck

  the surface of the pool in a fountain of white spray and disappeared,

  Nicholas followed it down, falling free, even managing J11 to keep his

  head uppermost, feet foremost, as he swooped I down the waterfall. The

  flood that carried him cushioned his fall, so that instead of being

  dashed against the exposed boulders at the bottom, he bounced and

  tumbled in the racing torrent. He came to the surface fifty yards

  downstream, tossed his wet hair out of his eyes and glanced around him

  quickly.

  The tractor was gone, swallowed deep into the pool at the foot of the

  waterfall, but ahead of him was a small island of rock in the middle of

  the river. With a dozen overarm strokes -he swam to it and clung to a

  rocky spur.

  >From there he looked up at the sheer walls of the chasm an remembered

  the last time he had been trapped down here. The ation "ie a felt at

  the destruction of the dam and the flooding of Pharaoh's tomb

  evaporated.

  He knew that he would not be able to climb those slick, water-smoothed

  cliffs that offered no handholds and which belled outwards in an

  overhang over his head.

  Instead he weighed the chances of working his way back upstream to the

  foot of the falls. From here it looked as though there was some sort of

  funnel or crevice up the east side of the chute which might offer a

  ladderway to the top, but it would be a hard and dangerous climb.

  The volume of water coming over the falls was not as heavy as he had

  expected, considering the vast body of water that was being held back by

  the dam. He realized then that the greater part of the wall of gabions

  must still be in place and that this torrent was only the result of

  water escaping through the narrow gap he had torn in the centre of the

  wall. The remainin gabions must still be 9 holding in place under their

  own weight. However, he realized that they could not hold much longer

  and that the river must soon plough them aside and burst through in full

  force. So he abandoned the idea of swimming back to the foot of the

  falls.

  "Have to get out of its way," he thought desperately, as he imagined

  being caught up in the terrible flood which would certainly come down at

  any moment. "If I can reach the side somewhere, perhaps find a ledge,

  climb above the flood." But he knew it was a forlorn hope. He had swum

  the length of the canyon once before without finding a handhold on the

  slick walls.

  "Swim ahead of it?" he thought. "A slim chance, but the only one I

  have." He kicked off his boots, and gathered himself. He was about to

  push off from his temporary refuge, when he heard the rest of the dam

  wall high above him give way.

  There was a rumbling roar, the crackle of logs snapping and breaking,

  the grating and grinding of heavy gabions being -thrown around like

  empty rubbish cans, and then suddenly and terrifyingly a solid wave of

  grey water burst over the top of the falls, carrying with it a wall of

  trash and debris.

  "Oh mother! Too late. Here comes the big one!'

  He shoved off from his rock, turning downstream, and swam with all his

  strength, kicking and flailing his arms in a wild crawl stroke. He heard

  the roar of the approaching wave and glanced back over his shoulder. It

  was overhauling him swiftly, filling the chasm from wall to wall,

  fifteen feet high and curling at the top. He had a fleeting mental II

  image from his youth, waiting to surf that notorious wave at Cape St.

  Vincent, hanging on the line'up and seeing it humping up behind him,

  this great wall of water, so mountainous and so overwhelming.

  "Ride id' he told himself, judging the moment. "Catch it like a slider."

  He clawed through the water, trying to get up speed to ride up the wall.

  He felt it seize him and lift him so violently that his guts swooped,

  and then he was on the crest of it. He arched his back and tucked his

  am-is behind him in the classic body-surfer's position, hanging in the

  face of the wave, slightly head down, the front half of his body thrust

  clear of the water, steering with his legs. After the first few

  terrifying seconds he realized that he was ic abated and riding her high

  and had some control; his pan he was overcome by a sense of wild

  exhilaration.

  "Twenty knots!" He estimated his speed by the giddy i blur of the canyon

  walls passing him on either side. He steered away from the nearest wall,

  sliding across the face, taking up station in the centre of the wave, He

  was caff ied along by the wave and by the thrilling sensation of speed

  and danger.

  The increased depth of water in the chasm covered the dangerous,

  knife-sharp rocks, enabling him to ride clear of them. It smoothed out

  the waterfalls and the chutes, so that instead of dropping down them and

  plummeting below the surface of the pool beneath he slid down them with

  a smooth rush, holding his position in the face of the wave with a few

  quick overarm strokes or a kick of the legs.

  "Hell! This is fun!" He laughed aloud. "People would pay money to do

  this. Beats the hell out of bungee jumping." A

  Within the first mile the wave began to lose its shape and impetus as it

  spread out. down the canyon. Soon it would no longer have the power to

  hold him up in the surfing position, and he glanced around him swiftly.

  Floating near by, keeping pace with him in the flotsam of debris from

  the dam, was one of the treetrunks that had formed part of the raft with

  which Sapper had plugged the gap in the wall.

  He steered across to this ponderous piece of timber. It was thirty feet

  long and floated low in the flood, its back showing like that of a

  whale. Its branches had been roughly hacked away by the axemen, and the

  spikes that remained provided secure handholds. Nicholas pulled himself

  up on he treetrunk, lying on his belly, facing downstream, to with his

  legs still dangling in the water. Swiftly he recovered his breath and

  felt his full strength returning.

  Although it had smoothed out and lost its wave formation, the flood was

  still tearing down the chasm at a tremendous pace. "Still not much under

  ten knots," he estimated. "When this lot hits Taita's pool, I pity von

  Schiller and any of his uglies who are in the tomb. They are going to

  stay in there for the next four thousand years." He threw back his head

  and laughed triumphantly.. "It worked! Damn me to hell, if it didn't

  work
just the way I planned it."

  He stopped laughing abruptly as he felt the treetrunk veer across the

  river towards one of the canyon walls.

  "Oh, oh! More trouble."

  He rolled to one side of the treetrunk and kicked out strongly. His

  ungainly vessel responded, swinging heavily across the current. It was

  sluggish steering, not enough to avoid contact with the rock wall

  entirely, but instead of striking full'on it was merely a glancing

  collision that pushed him back again into the main flow of the current.

  He was gaining confidence and expertise every moment, "I can ride her

  all the way down to the monastery!'

  The AL

  he exclaimed delightedly. "At this rate of knots I might even get to the

  boats before Sapper and Royan."

  Looking ahead, he recognized this stretch of the chasm that he was

  hurtling through. -i@

  "This is the bend above Taita's pool. Be there in another minute or two.

  I expect the scaffolding has been washed away by now." He pulled

  himself as high on the log as he could without upsetting its balance,

  and peered ahead, blinking the water out of his eyes. He saw the head of

  the falls above Taita's pool racing towards him, and he braced himself

  for the drop.

  The long, smooth chute of racing water opened ahead of him, and the

  moment before he flew down it he had a glimpse into the basin of rock

  below it. He saw at once that his expectations had been premature. The

  bamboo scaffolding had not been entirely washed away, although it was

  badly damaged. The lowest section was gone, but the Upper part hung

  drunkenly down the rock cliff, just touching the surface of the racing

  waters. It was swaying and swinging loosely as the current snatched at

  it, and incredulously he realized that there were at least two men

  trapped

  on the flimsy structure, clinging desperately to the ladderway of

  lurching, clattering poles. Both of them were trying to claw their way

  up it to the top of the cliff.

  In that fraction of a second Nicholas saw a flash of steel'rimmed

  spectacles under a maroon beret, and realized that the man nearest the

  top of the cliff was Tuma Nogo.

  Then Nogo succeeded in reaching the top of the scaffolding and

  disappeared over the top of the cliff. That one glance was all Nicholas

  had time for before his log was plunged into the water-chute, gathering

  speed until it was tearing downwards at a steeply canted angle. The

  point dug in as it hit the surface of the pool at the bottom, and the

  log almost pole-vaulted end over end, but Nicholas clung on to his

  handholds, and gradually it righted itself.

  For a few moments the log was stalled in the vortex below the falls, but

  almost at once, the current grabbed it again and it gathered speed,

  bearing away down the length of Taita's pool as ponderously as a wooden

  man-'-war.

  Nicholas had a second of respite in which to look around the basin of

  Taita's pool. He saw at once that the entrance tunnel to the tomb was

  entirely submerged and, judging by the water level up the cliff wall, it

  was already fifty feet or more beneath the surface. He felt a leap of

  triumph. The tomb was once more protected from the depredations of any

  other grave-robber.

  Then he looked up the battered remnants of the bamboo scaffolding skewed

  down the cliff, torn half away from the ancient niches in the rock, -and

  he saw the other man still clinging to the wreckage. He was twenty feet

  above the water level, and seemed frozen there like a cat in the high

  branches of a windswept tree.

  At that moment Nicholas realized that his log was swinging in the grip

  of the river, curling in towards the dangling scaffold. He was about to

  try to steer it clear, when the man on the framework high above him

  turned his head and looked down at him. Nicholas saw that he was a white

  man, his face a pale blob in the gloom of the canyon, and a moment later

  he recognized him with a stab of hatred through the chest.

  "Helm!the exclaimed."Jake Helm."

  He had an image of Tamre, the epileptic boy, crushed beneath the

  rockfalls and of Tessay's burned and battered face. His outrage and

  hatred surged. Instead of steering the log away from the scaffold, he

  reversed his thrust and swung in towards the cliff. There was a

  breathless interval when Nicholas thought he might miss, but at the last

  moment the leading end of the log swung sharply and the point of it

  crashed into the trailing end of the bamboo, hooking-on to it.

  The log's weight and momentum were irresistible. The bamboo poles

  crackled and snapped like dry kindling, and then the whole rickety

  structure tore loose from the wall and came crashing down over the log.

  Helm swung out overhead, then released his grip and dropped feet first

  into the water close alongside the log. He went deep below the surface.

  While he was under, Nicholas pulled himself up to sit astride the log

  and grabbed a length of bamboo pole that had broken off the scaffolding

  and was floating alongside.his perch.

  The log was trapped in a back eddy of the swollen river, and now it

  began to spin slowly in the slack water outside the main current.

  Nicholas was still riding high on the log. He hefted the bamboo,

  swinging it back and forth like a baseball bat, to get the feel of it.

  Then he cocked it over his shoulder and waited for Helm to show himself.

  A second later the Texan's head broke out, streaming water. His eyes

  were screwed closed, and he let out a gasp Of water and air and tried to

  suck in a breath. Nicholas aimed the pole at his head and swung with all

  his strength, but just at that moment Helm opened his eyes and saw the

  blow coming.

  He was as quick as a water snake, rolling his head under the swinging

  club so that it merely touched the side of his cropped blond head and

  then glanced away. Nicholas was thrown off balance by his own swing, and

  before he could recover Helm had drawn a quick breath and ducked below

  the surface again.

  Nicholas poised the club, ready to strike a second time, peering down

  into the murky water, muttering angrily at himself for having missed the

  first blow while he still had the advantage of surprise. He had no

  illusions about what he was in for, now that Helm had been warned.

  The seconds drew out with no sign of his adversary reappearing, and

  Nicholas looked behind him anxiously, trying to anticipate where he

  would come up again. For a long minute nothing happened. He lowered the

  club nervously, and changed his grip so as to be ready to stab in any

  direction with the sharp broken tip.

  Suddenly his left ankle was seized in a crushing grip below the water

  and, before he could grab a handhold to resist, Nicholas was jerked from

  his seat on the log and went over backwards into the river. As he

  plunged beneath the water he felt Helm's fingers clawing at his face. He

  grabbed one of the fingers and wrenched it back, feeling it snap in his

  grasp as he forced it back towards its own wrist.

  But Helm was galvanized by the agony of the disloca
ted joint, and one of

  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