The Traiteur's Ring (45 page)

“After my friend,” Chris said and tossed Ben’s helmet back to Reed. “You can stay here if you want.” Reed smiled.

Fuckin’ A, right.

Malloy shrugged and turned to his men who all nodded.

“Shit, we’ll go with you,” he said. “Got nothing else to do.”

They called the snipers out of the trees, briefed a quick search and recovery mission, and headed westward out of the village. As they entered the jungle again they fanned out.

The voice Reed heard in his head sounded so crisp and clear that he turned around, weapon drawn.

Ben will need you very soon. He has nearly completed his task here, and then he will need you very badly.

There was no one behind him, and he lowered his weapon and scanned the surrounding jungle in a quick circle – nothing.

I’m losing my fucking mind. I blame you, Ben Morvant, and you owe me a big fucking drink when we get home.

*   *   *

Ben moved swiftly behind the half-naked man that led them through the jungle at a stiff pace. Despite his great condition, he felt sweat literally pour off of him, and yet the warriors beside him seemed barely to glow with perspiration and smiled each time he looked over. Ben felt complete amazement at the total silence with which the villagers moved and he winced each time his booted foot would make a soft “crack” on a rare piece of dry jungle wood.

Bare feet must be the key.

He had started to regret his impulsive tossing of his headset. At the time, he needed to shut off the calls of his teammates, and he guessed he needed the “No Going Back” finality of losing the gear. But now that he felt his target close he had begun to wonder just how in the shit he would get back to his team once he finished his mission. The ultimate goal in his mind still remained getting home to his family, and he had made that tougher with an impetuous act.

Ben thought again of Christy and his son inside her. He had heard her thoughts, or at least he had convinced himself he had (he didn’t want to admit it could as likely have been imagination fueled by desperate hope). He knew he had to keep such distracting ideas out of his head and focus on the mission, but he had no clue what to think or how he would handle it – no understanding of what was expected of him or what power would be needed to defeat the powerful One with the black blood. So, he found it difficult not to let his mind drift. He thought also, with a great deal of guilt, about his team. He hoped and prayed they were safely back at the JSOTF base, but he knew that would not be the case. His team would never leave without him (or at least his body) any more than he would leave one of them behind. All he could do for now was pray for their safety and complete what had to be done.  Then, they could all finally be secure.

Ben heard the soft rumble and realized what it was a moment after his imagination made it something much scarier. He listened to the sound of rapidly moving water and tried to pinpoint it as ahead of them or off to the side. Either way, he realized the ground beneath his feet had become softer and boggier. By the time the warrior ahead of him raised his hand to stop (Ben marveled at how like the SEAL team hand signal it appeared – he guessed warriors had been the same for thousands of years when it came down to it) the sound had increased to a roar, and he suspected the moving water must have come from some elevation, though through the dense jungle he could get no sense of whether the terrain rose ahead of them.

But it must, obviously.

He crouched beside the two villagers and the point man touched his lips and his left ear, which Ben thought meant they should be quiet.

We must be close
.

Ben doubted that anyone could hear them over the loud roar of the river he could not yet see, but he moved forward slowly now anyway, his body in a combat crouch and his ears straining to hear past the echoes of the tumultuous water. He realized he came equipped with more senses than that though, and closed his eyes a moment – his mind reached out ahead of them in a soft blue light.

He heard several voices which fought over each other in his head.  He felt there might be seven or eight men total. He realized that if some were the voices of dark ones inside the Al Qaeda fighters then it might be a few less, but there might also be a couple more that he just didn’t separate from the others.

Call it ten to be safe.

Nice. One SEAL (though well trained and somewhat well-armed) and two unarmed, primitive and usually peaceful villagers against nearly a dozen heavily armed terrorists. Perfect.

What could possibly fuckin’ go wrong?

He followed the lead villager, the three of them now belly crawling so he knew how close they must be, and in his mind he counted out the bullets in his spare magazines as he often did to keep relaxed. Then, the villager gently parted the thick jungle grass and moved aside so Ben could peer through.

Ben felt a chill at the familiarity of the structure. The river was clear blue water instead of the flat and black mirror he had seen down the bunny hole. It ran over the top of the ruins instead of through it and formed a waterfall as it fell off the top of the heavily overgrown, squared off arch. The river itself seemed to defy physics – it ran with great speed and volume and yet beyond the ruins he saw no rising terrain– not so much as a little hill much less a mountain – to provide the gravity force to push the water.

Nonetheless there it was, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, pouring over the archway and onto the jungle floor, and then veering off to the left in a rushing flow. The parallel steps that formed the sides looked much shorter than the building he had sat atop with the Attakapa. It seemed more the essence of the ancient structure that looked familiar.

It sure as shit smells better.

This river still has the life of the Living Jungle – the river you visited before is on the other side, the death side.

Ben dismissed the Elder’s voice since it seemed to hold information irrelevant to the task at hand – but tucked it away just in case.

Ben saw four bad guys, two on either side of the waterfall at the base of each of the stepped walls of the ruins. They stood just inside of the falling water and seemed relaxed, but Ben could sense they all held the thoughts of dark ones, as well – and he knew those fuckers might just be able to sense him, too – so he kept the blue light of his mind in his own head.

No sense letting them know we’re here until we have to.

He realized he had no idea if it worked that way. He was completely making this up as he went along. Still that
felt
right, and he had nothing else to go on, so screw it. He strained his eyes to see past them, to see into the dark and cave-like interior of the ruins, blocked by the curtain like waterfall. He saw only shadows – but he knew his target was there. He didn’t hear the One with the black blood in his head, but somehow he knew he was there. He pulled back from the parted grass and took a deep breath. He needed a minute.

The villagers lay beside him in the jungle grass and watched. They had done their part by delivering him here, he suspected. Now, it was his show.

You will know what to do.

Yeah – right.

Ben did his four-count tactical breathing and then slowly parted the grass again, this time with the barrel of his rifle. He suddenly wished he had his sniper rifle with him instead of the shorter range and less powerful M-4. He ignored the whisper of the Elder in his head telling him he needed neither.

Tough shit. My show – my way.

Ben peered through the long range sight and drew down on the terrorist on the right side of the river fall, closest to the water – the most difficult target. He felt no wind, but corrected in his head for the distance and raised his sight up slightly above his intended target. He knew if the dark ones were inside these assholes then shooting them wouldn’t stop them. But his very limited experience told him that it would slow them down a few minutes and gain him hopefully enough time to get past them and into the objective and find his target.

No time to stop for a snack – which seems to be the only way to actually kill them for good.

His stomach turned slightly at the thought (memory), and he forced it out of his head. He sighted again, took a slow, deep breath and then held it at the end of the exhale.

Ben squeezed the trigger back and watched through the sight as the terrorists head erupted in a cloud of pink and grey. He immediately pulled his rifle left and sighted on the inboard target on the right side of the waterfall. This target now moved rapidly and Ben led him slightly to correct and then fired again.

Chapter 46

The rifle shot sounded completely unmistakable to Reed, and the second and third shots that followed it confirmed what he knew – it was the sound of an American-issued M-4 rifle.

“Lead – Five,” he nearly shouted into his microphone.

“I heard it, Five,” Chris answered curtly. “It had to be his, but we don’t know who has it and is firing. Viper – Ghost – move quickly and spread out.”

“It was fucking close – just up ahead,” Auger called.

“Radio discipline,” Chris chastised.

Reed moved quickly, his rifle up and ready as he scanned around him through the holographic sight. When he broke out into a clearing suddenly, he nearly tripped in an effort to stop his forward momentum. Instead, he capitalized on the stumble and dropped himself into a prone position as his mind tried to make sense of what he saw.

The rocky outcroppings on either side of the waterfall slowly made sense to his brain as stone stairs rising up on either side of the river. His mind had tricked him at first, because the stairs were nearly completely overgrown by jungle moss and grass. Only a few patches on either side were clear of the encroaching vegetation, maintaining the look of the man-made structure they had once been – hundreds if not thousands of years ago he guessed.

Then, his mind finally registered something else – something no less unexpected and hard to believe.

The figure that stood up over the body of the fallen terrorist had a short rifle raised in a combat stance and scanned over it. Then, he saw the muzzle flash and a split second later heard the retort of the M-4. The figure wore cammie pants and a body armor combat kit over an otherwise bare torso covered in sweat. He looked through his sight at the figure’s uncovered head just as he disappeared behind the water fall.

Ben – holy shit it really is him.

Reed pushed aside the obvious and disturbing “what in the fuck is he doing here?” thoughts and keyed his mike.

“Lead – Five – I have Three in sight.”

“Where?’ Chris’s voice came back sharply. “I don’t see him. Where the hell is he?”

“Just disappeared behind that water fall,” Reed said. He felt his voice find some sort of calm center. “I’m going after him.”

“Negative, Five, Stand by One,” Chris commanded.

Too late, boss.

Reed sprinted across the short clearing towards his goal, his rifle up and ready, and his head on a swivel.

“We’ve got company – up on the top,” Auger’s voice came. “Shit, it looks like a bunch of them.”

Reed looked up just as he arrived at the base of the steps to the right of the river and saw at least a dozen figures move along both sides of the water above him.

“Set up a better perimeter,” Chris commanded. “I need Eagles up also – snipe anything with a weapon that didn’t come with us. I’m going after Five and Three.”

Reed peered into the dark behind the waterfall and saw that it masked the entrance to a long, wide tunnel. He looked down at the dead terrorist at his feet and kicked the AK-47 clear of his grip just in case.

“I got two KIA’s here, Lead,” he said into his mike. “Looks like a tunnel of some sort, just behind the waterfall. I’ll wait at the entrance for you.”

The officer might have thoughts of court martial in his mind for him, but they might as well do the breach correctly anyway. His radio began to fill with chatter as the Viper and Ghost teams both started to call out targets and engage the enemy above him. He heard the sound of both M-4s and the AK-47s of the bad guys and the occasional deeper, throaty spit of the sniper rifles. A moment later Chris put a hand on his shoulder, and Reed peered back at him.

“Ben went down this tunnel,” he said. “He looked like he wasted another bad guy over there,” he gestured with his eyes to the other side of the tunnel, “and then he went inside.”

Chris pointed at a wide blood trail that snaked into the dark opening along its right wall.

“Looks like one of the shit heads didn’t die on cue. Looks like he went after Ben.”

Reed nodded and then waited for his boss to make the call.

“You take the left side of the tunnel, and I’ll take the right. Shoot anything except Ben.”

“Roger that,” Reed said with a tight smile.

Together they entered the constricting tunnel, and Reed flipped his NVGs back into place, turning the air an eerie green and the wide blood trail black. He doubted that whoever left the bloody remnants would be much threat by the time they got to him – it looked like he had left most of his bodily fluid on the floor of the cave.

Reed scanned back and forth over his rifle and watched the infrared dot paint a pattern of parallel red lines on the walls. Then, he moved deeper into the dark and strangely quiet cave.

*   *   *

Ben moved as quickly down the tunnel as he dared and cursed himself again for not bringing his helmet and NVGs. He had flipped his rifle sight to night vision mode and held his face close to the sight, but the small field of vision made it difficult to scan the wide tunnel as he moved. He could hear whispered sounds behind him and over that another sound – like a wet bag being dragged over dry concrete. He suspected one of the dark ones had pursued him. The whispers were something different, but he dared not reach out with his mind for fear that the powerful One might hear him coming.