His Only Obsession (Protectors #27)

by Beverly Barton

  “Daddy? Daddy!” Gwen patted his cheek.

  With his eyes wide open but dazed, he looked either dead or unconscious. She felt for a pulse. He was alive, but just barely.

  Daring a glance over her shoulder, through the plush jungle greenery, Gwen saw what appeared to be ornately carved golden chariots off in the distance, just outside the fields. But before she could ascertain whether she was hallucinating or not, a thin beam of light struck her chest and the world went black.

  Sebak led Will, Jordan and Cheryl to the Fields of Eshe. They arrived moments before dawn. Will realized what had happened as soon as he discovered that not only was Gwen missing from Oseye, but so was Dr. Arnell and Mick McGuire.

  “They’ve gone to the Eshe fields,” Will had told the others.

  “But why? They knew you were— Damn!” Jordan shook his head. “Gwen did this, didn’t she?”

  “She didn’t want you to risk your life,” Cheryl said.

  “Yeah. And I should have known what she’d do. Damn stupid woman!” His chest ached with emotion. He’d never been so angry with anyone and at the same time had never been so certain that a woman loved him beyond all reason.

  “What can we do?” Cheryl had asked.

  “What else? Go after them.”

  So, here they were approaching the fields, with Sebak in tow as their guide. But there was no sight of Gwen, her father or McGuire. The Fields of Eshe looked serene and undisturbed.

  “Fan out and search for any sign of them, anything the least bit out of the ordinary,” Will ordered. His gut told him that they were too late. “Cheryl, you search around the periphery while we enter the fields.” He turned to Sebak. “If they aren’t here—”

  “You will not find them,” Sebak said. “I tried to tell you that the elite brigade captured them and took them to Mount Kaphiri to be punished by Lord Baruti.”

  Glowering at Sebak, Will grabbed him. “If we don’t find them, you will guide us to Mount Kaphiri and tell us how to find this Lord Baruti.”

  “No, I cannot. I am but a lowly village leader. I am unworthy to ascend to Mount Kaphiri.”

  Will shook Sebak, then circled his neck in a death grip. “Worthy or unworthy, you’re going to show us the way. Either that or I will wipe out your entire village, starting with you.”

  “You cannot think you are capable of overpowering an entire village. You and Jordan are only two men.”

  “Two men with weapons. Guns. Do you know what a gun is? I just happened to have picked up a couple of them when I went back to my boat yesterday, and they’re safely tucked away in my backpack.”

  “If your guns are weapons that render people unconscious, then I know what they are. The elite brigade have such weapons.”

  “Do their weapons kill?” Will asked.

  “Kill? No, they do not kill. There have been no murders on Umi in a thousand years.”

  “No murders, huh? What do you call human sacrifice?”

  While Sebak stared at Will, a perplexed expression on his face, Cheryl cried out, “I’ve found something!”

  Will forced Sebak forward. Cheryl, who had gone approximately thirty feet into the jungle, turned to face them, a dirty handkerchief in her hand. Jordan came running up behind them.

  “It’s The Professor’s handkerchief,” Cheryl told them.

  “They were here,” Jordan said.

  “And now they are gone.” Sebak shook his head sadly.

  “We’re going after them.” Will didn’t care what it took, didn’t care if he had to move heaven and earth, he was going to find Gwen. “Sebak says the elite brigade took them to Mount Kaphiri.”

  “It will do no good to follow them,” Sebak said. “You cannot rescue them. Their lives are now in the hands of Lord Baruti.”

  Will gave Sebak a hard shove. “And your life and the lives of your fellow villagers are now in my hands. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, I understand. I…I will show you the way to the foothills of Mount Kaphiri, but I can go no farther. I would be of no help to you. I have never been up the mountain itself, but when my son, who is a scholar, has visited me, he has told me that there is a road that leads from the foothills straight to the high priest’s palace. But the elite brigade guard the entrance to the palace, day and night.”

  Gwen regained consciousness slowly, at first not remembering what had happened, but the minute her eyes opened and she didn’t recognize her surroundings, the events of their capture came back to her. When she sat straight up, her head pounded unmercifully, forcing her to lie back down on the soft pillow. Lying flat on her back while the throbbing ache in her head subsided, she glanced right and left, up and down. She lay in an intricately carved black bed. Ebony? The sheet beneath her felt like silk. The walls were decorated with murals, island scenes of waterfalls and villages and the Fields of Eshe.

  When she tried sitting up again, more slowly this time, she realized that she was naked. Dear God, what had happened to her?

  And where was her father? Where was Mick? For that matter, where was she?

  She wrapped the silk sheet around her and tucked one end under the edge that crisscrossed over her breasts, then walked across the room to the gilded door. The handle was gold, encrusted with gems—rubies, diamonds and emeralds.

  She tried the handle. The door opened to reveal a long, narrow hallway with stark white walls and a black marble floor. The moment she stepped into the hallway, four women came through a door at the end of the long corridor and rushed toward her.

  She stopped and waited for them to come to her. Better to get this initial meeting over now, she told herself.

  When the women came near, they paused and looked at her as if waiting for her to either say or do something. The four women looked like sisters, each dark-haired, tall, slender, doe-eyed and elegantly dressed in azure blue off-the-shoulder dresses tied with silver cords directly below their breasts.

  “Where am I?” Gwen asked, hoping beyond hope that one of them could speak English. “How long have I been here?”

  “You were brought to the palace of Lord Baruti yesterday,” one of the women replied.

  Yesterday? That meant she had been asleep—unconscious—for at least twenty-four hours. She vaguely recalled seeing a white light hit Mick and then her father. She had been the last struck with the weapon. A tranquilizer of some kind? If so, it certainly was powerful, to produce such a long-lasting effect.

  “Lord Baruti is the high priest, isn’t he?”

  “Yes,” another answered.

  “I was brought here with two men. Where are they?”

  “The men are in another area of the palace,” a third woman responded. “You will join them for an audience with Lord Baruti.”

  “When?” Gwen asked.

  “Before the sun reaches a midpoint in the heavens,” the fourth woman told her. “We have come to prepare you for the ceremony.”

  “The ceremony?” Gwen’s stomach tightened.

  All four women smiled, but only the first one spoke, as if they had to take turns. “The Ceremony of Olumfemi. Those who are sacrificed are the beloved of the gods. Even those who have done great evil find redemption in death.”

  Chapter 16

  On the trek to Mount Kaphiri, Will had given Jordan a minicourse in combat and survival. Despite his lack of experience, the guy had picked up on the essentials quickly and agreed without question that Will was in charge. When they had reached the foothills at daybreak and stopped in a village called Bahiti, Will had made the decision to leave Cheryl behind. There was no point putting her at risk, especially since she would only slow them down, and Jordan would be distracted by her presence because his first priority would be to protect her.

  Will’s gut told him he could trust Sebak not to give them away. After all, if he or the other villagers had wanted to turn them over to the elite brigade, they could have done that immediately after they arrived on Umi.

  “I will take care of your woman,” Sebak had t
old Jordan. “If you do not return, I will make sure she leaves Umi safely. If you return, I trust you to do no harm to my village.”

  “Your village is safe from us,” Jordan assured him, then looked to Will. “Isn’t that right?”

  “We will repay you for your help by not harming you or your people,” Will said.

  Jordan had thanked Sebak for all he’d done for them, then spent a few minutes alone with Cheryl to say goodbye. Will had led Sebak aside and questioned him, knowing that any knowledge the man possessed could help them when they reached Lord Baruti’s palace.

  “How long do we have?” Will had asked.

  “I do not know for sure,” Sebak had replied. “They will not perform the Ceremony of Olumfemi before the sun is at its highest point in the sky.”

  “This ceremony—”

  “A ceremony of sacrifice. Emery and the others will be sacrificed to the gods, and in this way, they will be redeemed for having committed a grave sin.”

  Sebak’s knowledge of the high priest’s palace was limited to what his son, the scholar who lived atop Mount Kaphiri, had shared with him. But even that information was better than nothing.

  During their climb up the mountain, Will and Jordan used the roadway that wound steadily upward like a slithering snake. At any hint of danger, Will led them off the main pathway, a twenty-foot-wide rock lane similar to the ones that ran through the jungles, only this road was wider. Twice on their journey, Will spied checkpoints that were guarded by two men he assumed were members of the elite brigade. Their physical appearance was similar to the other natives, but their attire differed. They wore dark-blue loincloths, silver breastplates and heavy sandals with straps that rose to midcalf. The two men stood at either side of the road and each held a spear, but the tips were rounded instead of pointed, which made Will wonder about their purpose.

  Taking no breaks, they arrived outside the walls of the palace shortly before high noon. Will ascertained from their appearance that the walls were undoubtedly more for decorative purposes than protection. Rising no higher than eight feet, with sections of silver-and-gold metal stakes carved in intricate designs, the open fencing allowed a breathtaking view of the interior. Built a good twenty feet higher at the very apex of the mountain, the palace rested like a goddess on a cloud. Will guessed the palace covered at least an acre. It was a magnificent structure of stone, with numerous enormous columns and huge statues guarding the entrance.

  Richly dressed people stirred about, each one apparently rushing to the same area of the palace. Rushing to witness the Ceremony of Olumfemi?

  “We can’t enter through those front gates,” Will said. “There are too many guards. We’d be spotted in seconds. We’ll have to find another way to get in.”

  “All those people are hurrying in one direction.” Jordan’s gaze focused on the palace. “Maybe that’s the way to the temple where Sebak said the ceremony will be performed.”

  Will looked up at the noonday sun. “We don’t have any time to waste. Just remember to follow my orders. And if anything happens to me, leave me behind. Save Gwen, then get her and Cheryl off this godforsaken island.”

  With an expression of somber acceptance on his face, Jordan nodded.

  Obviously, those who lived high above the lowly natives on the island below had few worries about uninvited guests. Will found it far too easy to breach the security of the palace grounds and even the palace itself. If their physical appearance was not so vastly different from the people of Umi, Will would have secured native clothing for Jordan and himself.

  “We watch and wait,” Will said. “Once the coast is clear and everyone is assembled in the temple, we’ll make our move.”

  Jordan nodded.

  Suddenly a loud trumpet sounded. Jordan’s gaze met Will’s.

  Will ventured a guess. “It’s a signal that the ceremony is about to begin.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

  “You know how to use the Ruger I gave you, how to aim, fire and how to replace the clip. When the time comes to act, don’t stop and think about what you’re doing, just do it. If we get out of this alive, there will be plenty of time later to think about how many people you killed.”

  Jordan swallowed.

  “If we can save all three of them, we’ll do it,” Will said. “But my main objective is to rescue Gwen. Understand?”

  “Understood.”

  The four doe-eyed maidens had dressed Gwen in a diaphanous, single-strap, cream gown, then placed golden sandals on her feet and a heavy gold choker about her neck. They had braided her long hair into three layers and painted her face with the type of makeup they wore. Although she had asked them numerous questions, they had responded to only a few, while keeping up a stream of idle chit-chat.

  As they led her down the black-marble-floored corridor, one phrase the women had used often kept repeating itself in Gwen’s mind. “A willing sacrifice will receive great honor in the afterlife.”

  A willing sacrifice? Not hardly. But until she saw her father, knew that he was alive, she planned to cooperate. Besides, what good would it do her to put up a fight? The maidens had informed her that resisting was useless, that if necessary the elite brigade could use the sefu of Baruti to subdue her. It had taken her several questions to get enough meaningful answers so that she could figure out that the round-tipped spears her abductors had used to shoot a powerful white light to render her, her father and Mick unconscious was what the maidens referred to as the sefu of Baruti.

  The maidens led her along three different corridors, taking her from building to building within the palace grounds. She caught only glimpses of the exterior, slashes of palm trees in magnificent garden areas that boasted incredible greenery and an abundance of flowers. As a botanist, she could happily spend endless hours exploring the gardens.

  When they reached a structure slightly apart from the main palace—a two-story, tan building decorated with bright emblems in reds, blues, yellows and greens—the maidens paused, as loud trumpets proclaimed the beginning of the ceremony. The massive silver doors swung open to reveal two long lines of the elite brigade flanking either side of the path that led to a dais where an elaborately clothed man of undeterminable age stood waiting. Gwen assumed he was the high priest, Lord Baruti.

  At Lord Baruti’s side stood Gwen’s father. Her heart leaped with joy when she saw that he appeared to be not only alive, but well. Like she, he had been dressed in elaborate native attire.

  While keeping her gaze focused directly on her father, Gwen caught flashes in her peripheral vision of people standing behind the elite brigade.

  As she neared the dais, she hazarded a quick glimpse to her right, where a small group of robed men knelt, their heads bowed. She counted six men in all. Then she glanced to her left. Blazing fires flickered like freshly lit torches atop six twelve-foot pillars that lined the wall directly behind a large marble slab.

  Gwen gasped.

  A completely naked Mick McGuire lay atop the marble altar, his arms lifted over his head and secured with gold chains. Identical gold chains around his ankles held his legs in place.

  Her survival instincts told her to run, to escape by any means necessary. Forcing down the salty bile that rose to her throat, Gwen focused once again on her father’s face. Oddly enough, he appeared not only calm but serene. Had he been drugged?

  When they reached the steps leading up to the altar, the maidens stopped. Her father held out his hand to her. She hesitated, then walked up the two marble steps and hurried to her father’s side. He opened his arms and wrapped her in a trembling embrace.

  “This is your daughter?” Lord Baruti asked. “Your only child?”

  “Yes, Lord Baruti.” Emery released Gwen and turned her so that she stood in front of him, facing the high priest.

  “You have risked your life to aid your father,” Lord Baruti said. “Such devotion and loyalty to a parent will be rewarded.”

  Gwen released a quivering bre
ath, wondering if by some miracle this all-powerful ruler intended to spare their lives. After all, his attitude toward her father was far from hostile.

  Nothing else was said before the high priest turned, leaving Gwen and her father on the raised podium. Drums beat rhythmically, a repetitive cadence, a musical announcement. With his sheer robes floating behind him like transparent, low-slung wings, Lord Baruti descended from the podium and walked directly to the altar. Gwen reached down and clasped her father’s hand.

  A member of the elite brigade, who carried a four-foot-long silver case, approached the high priest, knelt in front of Lord Baruti and lifted the case high above his head. The priest opened the case and removed a gleaming golden sword with a shimmering two-foot blade.

  Gwen watched in mesmerized horror as Lord Baruti approached the altar where Mick McGuire squirmed, his voice ringing out with threat-filled obscenities. Lord Baruti stood over Mick and lifted the sword with both hands over his head. A robust shout erupted from the onlookers.

  Squeezing her father’s hand, Gwen stood on tiptoe and whispered, “Can’t you do something to stop this?”

  “The gods demand sacrifices,” her father murmured. “McGuire will have a chance to redeem himself in the afterlife.”

  Releasing her death grip on her father’s hand, Gwen stared at him, unable to believe that he could accept this inhuman act with such a cavalier attitude.

  “Daddy?”

  “Quiet, daughter.” He hushed her. “Show this solemn moment the respect and reverence it deserves.”

  Oh, God! Why was her father acting this way? It wasn’t possible, was it, that he had been brainwashed in less than twenty-four hours? Didn’t he realize that once Mick McGuire was killed, they would probably be next?