“I’ll wager some of those must be enchanted weapons,” offered Ole, reaching and yanking free a sword that was half-lodged in the upper shoulder of bones that would rival the largest of elephants. The blade, covered with tiny red pits, the sword looked formidable despite its age.
“If that is worth any money, I still get my share from its sell, huh?” grated Catlo.
“Look around,” said Aisha, “there is more here than we could ever carry away.”
“I don’t know, I think I could keep coming back and haul all of this away eventually. I could become a king of Dar-Alhambra or Afghulistan,” he proclaimed, as he put a golden necklace on. Rubies hung from golden baubles and reflected the horrific light of the volcano’s fires.
Aisha noted that only Musa was not taken in by the enormous wealth. He still looked to the sky in curious wonder. “Musa, are you all right?”
He shook his head. “I can hear the spirits murmuring, but I cannot make out the words. I wish I could understand what they say.”
“You will. Give it time and take in this spectacle. No matter what Catlo says, this is a once in a lifetime find. More than once in a lifetime. What other humans have even stood where we now are?” she asked.
“Only the secret kings,” he answered softly. “Only the secret kings.”
Catlo bounced giddily from place to place, picking up each newfound bit of treasure, before discarding it for the next piece. Ole seemed especially pleased with the sword and worked at removing the faint rust that stained the blade.
“Bless my cursed soul! Look at this!” Catlo cried. The others rushed toward him.
A clutch of eggs were bunched together into a hollow of stones. They were as large as a man’s head, but shaped slightly wider than a normal egg as well as looking ridged and rougher than even a sea turtle’s egg. There was no doubt as to what they were.
“Are they still…. alive?” asked Aisha.
Ole reached down and touched them. “They’re still warm.”
“The mountain keeps them warm,” said Musa. “Legends say that a dragon’s egg can sit for a hundred years and still produce offspring.”
“Smash them,” said Aisha, overcome with emotion, remembering her father slain in a dragon’s clawed hand.
“You’re crazy,” said Catlo. “You know how much we could sell them for?”
“We cannot move them from the mountain,” shouted Musa. “If they still live, they would die.”
“Who cares?” snarled Catlo. “She doesn’t care, she doesn’t even know their value as keepsakes.”
“I don’t care about selling them or keepsakes. I want them eradicated.”
“No one has seen a dragon in a hundred years and you want to destroy these? Pfffff,” hissed Catlo through his teeth. “We could sell them in Avaris for thousands of Denari. Thousands!”
“I’ve seen them.” She raised her sword to smash the eggs. “And I want them gone from this earth.”
Ole caught her hand. “No, wait, we have other worries.”
A dozen paces away, a massive hyena standing on two legs like a man, stuck its head through the mouth of the tunnel. Blood from the horses dripped from its awful muzzle and the single clawed hand. Its body was like that of a man but so much larger. Muscles rippled beneath its skin and it made even Ole seem small by comparison. Its pectoral muscles stood out almost as large as dinner plates and its forearms were as wide around as Aisha’s own body.
“The Bouda of Bouda’s,” whispered Musa. “Never have I seen one so large. Surely it is endowed with sorcery beyond its known ken for this to be.”
“I took its hand, now I’ll take its head,” growled Ole.
The monstrous Hyena turned and looked at them, its yellow eyes narrowed. A terrible smile curled upon its slavering lips. It charged with blinding speed.
27. Tooth and Claw
The monstrous dog man came at them running upon two feet and alternating chaotically with one of its arms or forelegs in a wild zig-zagging attack.
Ole drew up his axe, ready to strike, but the speed of the terrible Bouda was too much and only the haft of the axe caught the shoulder of the monster instead of burying into its mangy flesh.
Aisha swung her sword but was forced to hold back, as the monster pushed Ole in front of her slash. Both actions likely saved the Northman, for if not for Aisha’s attack the monster would have taken his head off. Its mouth snapped and the teeth, like daggers, were easily capable of shattering bone.
Musa charged in with his spear, but missed as the Bouda bounded aside only to slash with its one good paw and rip a massive gash open on the man’s head. Scarlet ran freely over Musa’s scalp, and he spun into the rocks and landed, unconscious.
Catlo took a defensive stance with his rapier and held his ground.
The Bouda tried to circle him but Catlo turned to the side, and anytime the monster came within reach, Catlo pierced at its body or paw. The final inch of his blade was painted crimson.
“Come and get more, beast. I can stab you all day,” taunted Catlo.
It roared its deafening anger, but while no grievous wounds were dealt, Catlo at least was making the thing bleed.
Ole struggled to his feet.
“We have to work together, Catlo has the right idea, in working together we can take this thing,” said Aisha.
“Hear that? First time ever you sing my praises,” said Catlo as he jabbed again at the Bouda.
“I wasn’t singing,” said Aisha.
The Bouda bounded away and vanished behind some boulders and jetting gas.
“We can’t let it ambush us, let’s move into the clearing and watch from all sides. Back to back,” said Catlo, stepping farther into the center.
“Help me move Musa first, he’s bleeding,” said Aisha. She watched the rocks above warily. The constant movement of gases and roiling fumes played tricks on their eyes as there was always something churning and creating the illusion of life around them.
“If we stop for him the thing could jump upon us. Did you see how far it could leap?” argued Catlo.
“If we leave him there, it will come back and finish him,” said Ole. “He’s coming with us.”
Catlo snarled an unintelligible oath then said, “Fine, but you carry him then. I’ll watch your back.”
Ole watched the steaming rocks and calamitous boulders above as he reached to pick up Musa’s body. The Umoja was bleeding freely but still breathing. Just as Ole bent down to pick up Musa, the monster leapt from the grey fumes.
The Bouda careened into the Northman, ripping and tearing with its claws and teeth. Catlo tried to stab at the monster but stuck Ole in the calf instead.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Catlo shouted in a panic. He glanced at Aisha. “Ole is gonna kill me. I stabbed him! I’m sorry!”
But Ole gave neither him nor his wound any heed, he was in the fight of his life with the gargantuan werehyena.
Aisha shouted and slashed a shallow cut along the backside of the Bouda, careful not to hit Ole.
Claws and fangs raked over Ole’s flesh as the big Northman fought to keep those hungry jaws from his throat, he kicked and squeezed with his fingers, tearing at the monstrous form that held him like a babe. He had lost all weapons but his own body. As the monster crushed him in a killing embrace, Ole bit into its throat. With his own teeth he ripped a chunk of flesh and the Bouda cast him aside in a howl of pain.
Scarlet dripped down its chin and neck. It panted as it glared at Aisha who charged with her sword and dagger. The monster leapt aside but crashed into Catlo’s blade. The dueling blade bit deep into the Bouda’s lower vitals and it howled in pain before backhanding the bandit chief to the ground. The fine silver blade broke at the hilt as Catlo retained a firm grip, the long edge caught in the monster’s pelvis.
Aisha raced to complete the assault and the monster dodged aside but Aisha’s attack was two-fold. She had anticipated the monster’s dodge from her sword and swept the long dagger wide where it
caught the beast in the ribs.
It screamed and swatted Aisha away. It pulled the dagger loose and let it drop to the black ground, now dotted red. It put its good hand to its bleeding ribs and let a low growl roll off its pained tongue.
Aisha groaned, struck senseless by the blow. Catlo was hardly any better, as he too had been dashed among the rocks. Musa remained unconscious.
“I will feast on your flesh,” came the deep guttural voice of the Bouda.
“No, you won’t.” Ole struggled to his feet.
The Bouda was bleeding yet still gave a wicked chuckle-like bark then said, “No mere man can stand up to my kind. We were kings of the earth before your kind even knew how to till.”
“All I see is a dog,” answered Ole, wiping away a stream of blood and sweat from his bruised forehead. He never took his eyes from his opponent, but leaned down and picked up a small stone from the ground.
“This dog will send you into the fiery hells,” said the Bouda.
Ole gestured with his right hand. “Come and fetch me then.”
The Bouda stretched and arched its back. Bones snapped as its great muscles flexed. It popped its neck back and forth. “My sorcerous master will give me a new hand for the one you stole. I think I will use yours. How do you like that? Your hand will slay men, women, and children, until I might blot out your foul race.”
“You talk too much.”
The Bouda howled and launched itself at Ole. The Northman leapt up a boulder then brought his mighty fists down on the Bouda’s head as its great arms clasped around him. The hyena squeezed Ole nigh unto death with those enormous, powerful arms. But Ole, the stone clasped in his fist, slammed the missile into the Bouda’s head again and again, cracking its skull like a coconut.
Too primeval to even know it was dead, the monster continued to crush Ole against itself before flinging him aside. The Bouda was enraged and blinded by the flowing blood and brains from its own broken skull. It screamed and stepped back, tearing at its own face in a mad effort to see.
Ole’s ribs were broken and lacerations shredded his body. None of the cuts were too deep but he had lost so much blood.
The Bouda struggled blindly before the Northman and finally collapsed. Barely able to lift a sword, Ole hefted the blade and painfully raised it and chopped the were-hyena’s head clean off. The body jerked, raised up on its hands, as if it might run away on all fours, the stump of a neck gurgled blood, and bubbles from the lungs signified the final attempt at breath, and the thing fell back, never to rise.
Ole rested a moment, leaning upon his sword, then swooned and fell over from loss of blood.
28. Musa Remembers
Aisha had helplessly watched the last few moments of that heroic confrontation. If she had not seen it herself, she would have been hard pressed to believe that a mere man could stand up to a monster like the Bouda. But then again, Ole was the most impressive man she had ever met.
She crawled toward him, to see if he still lived. His chest moved up and down and he was covered in gore, half of it, not his own. She crawled halfway atop him. “Don’t you die on me, you big pale bastard!” she said, as she shook him.
He blinked awake. “Get off me,” he whispered.
She took his face in her hands and smothered it with kisses.
“I can’t breathe,” he slurred hoarsely.
Aisha leaned back and began wiping away at his wounds. She used a bit of silk from her torn shirt to staunch the flow of his more grievous wounds.
Catlo stood up behind her and stretched. “That was unexpected.”
She ignored him as she continued tending to Ole. She watched from the corner of her eye as the bandit chief stalked toward the tunnel entrance. He disappeared inside the cavern only a few moments and returned shortly with one horse.
“Now we only have one horse, Diamanda’s that was pressed to the rear of the chamber. I don’t know how the Bouda missed it, but I guess that is at least one small blessing for me today.”
“Just one?” scoffed Aisha, as she wrapped a strip of cloth over Ole’s slashed forehead and swollen eye.
But the bandit chief wasn’t listening to her. “And no way to move all this treasure to the river,” lamented Catlo. “Or at least, not much beyond what I can fit in my saddlebags.”
“I weep for your pain,” scolded Aisha.
Catlo snorted. “Hey! My most trusted comrade is dying on the ground.” He beckoned to Ole.
“He’ll make it,” she said, as much to herself as to argue with Catlo.
He stalked around her and picked up the sword Ole had used to behead the Bouda, glanced at the dark, gore-stained metal and tossed it far away.
Aisha turned and glared at him. “What are you getting at?”
Catlo bent his hat to the side and scratched at his chin. “Just with Ole dead.” He shrugged imitating how Ole always did it.
“He’s not dead. Just badly wounded. He can pull through this.”
Catlo shook his head sadly. “We don’t have a horse to carry him.”
“We have one horse. Ole is worth a thousand such treasures!”
Catlo laughed. “No man is worth this much. It was only a question of time, until I had to be rid of you both. And now the gods have seen to it, that you are both in my power.” He drew his dueling blade.
Aisha was on her knees at Ole’s side. The big Northman was in no condition to do anything. With a master duelist like Catlo, with his rapier drawn and only a pace from sticking the point into her heart, there was nothing she could do to fight him off.
“After everything I’ve done for you, you worthless—”
“Now is not the time for the poetry my dear, I’ve heard it all before. I’m grateful you got me here and laid down your life for my gain, but it must be my gain. And mine alone.”
Aisha shook her head, glaring. If she died in this moment, it would be cursing Catlo, but at least a true man, Ole, laid beside her.
“I can hear them! I can hear the spirits!” cried Musa, breaking the reverie, just as Catlo prepared to strike.
“What do they say?” asked Aisha, garnering the Umoja’s attention, hoping against hope for a chance to counter Catlo’s checkmate. But the bandit chieftain did not move his gaze nor his pointed blade from her breast, instead he grimaced at Musa’s sudden jubilation.
“They say that no one but an Umoja may know or have any of the treasure and that anyone who is not Umoja must die! I hear them finally!”
“Musa, shut up!” growled Catlo, his blade never leaving Aisha’s direction.
“You too, Catlo,” said Musa gravely. “All must die here. The spirits say.”
That grabbed Catlo’s attention just enough to shift his gaze to the tall Umoja instead of Aisha.
“But we’re friends, Musa. And I am your captain. You do what I say, not some damned spirits. How hard did you get hit in the head anyway?”
The tall dark man smiled, rubbed a hand along his bald pate and saw the smear of bright red. But he was disinterested in the head wound. Instead, he nodded excitedly, saying, “I know, and I am sorry, but the spirits have told me and you must all die. Please know that I bear you no ill feelings and will give you respectful burials at the foot of the mountain. But your bodies cannot remain in this sacred place.”
“You crazy black dog! How dare you betray me!” shouted Catlo. He backed away from Aisha until he was beside the horse. Musa grinned at him like the devil. Catlo took one of the Kathulian spears from beside a saddle bag and threw it at the Umoja, but the tall man easily dodged aside as the missile fell behind amongst the jagged stones.
“Catlo, I have ridden with you many moons and you have never been respectful of the spirits. Now they say you must die,” said Musa, preparing to cast his own hunting javelin at the bandit chief.
“Traitorous dog! Do your worst! I’ll kill you!” cried Catlo waving his rapier. “Face me and I’ll cut you down!”
“I know your tricks and I have no time for them,” sai
d Musa coldly.
“Face me!” Catlo took an aggressive challenging stance.
Musa shook his head slowly as his coiled arm shot the javelin straight at the bandit chief like a black comet.
Aisha was amazed at the speed of the throw, it seemed as if Musa possessed a power greater than he had heretofore. She gripped Ole under the arm and pulled him to his knees.
The spear struck Catlo in the face, right below the nose, with a sickening crunch.
The sound of the smashed bone and gory, pulped lips sickened Aisha most, even though she had slain so many men before hearing this gruesome smack.
Catlo dropped to his knees, his eyes bulging in horror, but a weak voice still exited his partially open mouth, “Pullt…titt…tout.”
Musa strode over to Catlo, braced his right foot on the bandit chief’s shoulder and yanked the javelin free. Catlo gasped his last breath and fell dead. Musa wheeled to find the others, his face a mask of calm. His eyes darted this way and that hunting for his prey, but Aisha already led Ole away into the mists of darkness and belching mountain fumes.
“Come on,” Aisha said to Ole. “He didn’t do that as a favor to Catlo so much as to have a weapon to use on us!” She grabbed the wounded bear of a man and half-drug and half carried him to the shelter of massive boulder. Jets of steam and smoke burst all around them granting a hint of concealment.
The mountain rumbled and shook, making even Musa pause to retain his balance.
“Aisha!” called Musa. “I honor your bravery. But you are not Umoja. You cannot be here. We are friends, but I must obey the spirits.” He hunted for her and Ole through the plumes of smoke. He rounded a large boulder with his spear ready to pierce. But they were not there.
“You are a good woman. You have saved my life. I will make it quick and painless. I will not make you or Ole suffer, I swear it,” he called again, as he spun about hunting for any sign of movement.
Aisha had drug Ole into a crevice between boulders a scant fifteen feet away. In hurrying to get the dazed Northman to safety she had lost her sword. She had only her dagger. It would be a tough call to defeat the skilled Umoja with that weapon. Stealth must be her ally.
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