War From The Clouds (9 page)

When i was finished, the circle had quieted down considerably and all the bodies had returned to their original brown hue. The chief motioned to his son and Purano hastily left the hut and came back with a low wooden stool. The chief settled on it and I marveled that he didn't settle all the way to the ground. That stool literally disappeared in the folds of his buttocks. The others, including Purano, stood around with their arms folded, waiting for the chief to continue this absorbing conversation.

"Pico speaks truly," the chief said, "but he knows nothing of that which happened after he left for his hiding place in the mountains. I will tell it all to you, from the beginning."

And he did. Using his soft growl and his still melodious voice to best dramatic effect, he spun a tale of horror that would have done proud any of his ancestors who had stood around campfires in the dead of night frightening the young and the sensitive with horrifying stories of yore.

It seems that Ancio had found an ancient map made up by a long-forgotten ancestor and had used the map to find the entrance of the sacrificial cave. When the tribe had given up human sacrifices more than two hundred years ago, the men had sealed up the cave and had destroyed all visual evidence of its existence, such as maps or descriptions of its locations, even recorded stories of what had taken place there. Even the tribal storytellers were reluctant to mention the cave in the succeeding generations.

But one ancestor had kept a detailed map and this map had been handed down in his own family, kept secret from others in the tribe. More than thirty years ago, an old man on his deathbed summoned Ancio to his side. The old man had no family to give the map to, so he entrusted it to Ancio, forbidding him on pain of death ever to reveal its existence, or to use it to find the cave. According to new tribal gods adopted two hundred years ago, any Ninca who entered the cave, or approached its forbidden entrance — even accidentally — would be burned to a cinder. That was the curse the new gods put on the cave.

The old man died and Ancio went secretly to the cave. He had already begun to think of himself as a god, so he figured he was immune to the spell. Sure enough, he found the cave, went inside and came out again. Not a hair had been scorched, which proved only that the spell of the devil was so strong in him that the new gods couldn't touch him.

In time, Ancio began to take young children there to make sacrifices to the old gods. Or, as Botussin put it, to the devil. Ancio soon enlisted others in his grisly scheme. Before long, the cave became the scene of sexual depravity as Ancio and his friends took young maidens there, abused them in every conceivable fashion and then burned them.

It was when other members of the tribe began to notice smoke rising from Alto Arete that they tumbled to what was really happening to the children and maidens disappearing with regularity from their lands. They didn't know that Pico had discovered Ancio's secret cave and the scene of his depravity. They thought at first that Pico was a victim, having stumbled across his former friend's secret.

But a month after Ancio's disappearance, twenty maidens disappeared from the tribal camp in one night alone. Among them were two of Botussin's daughters, princesses. They were ten and twelve years old. Purano was an infant and was thus spared. One of Botussin's daughters, the twelve-year-old, had the presence of mind to tear small bits of fabric from her garment and drop them on the trail. Botussin and his spearchuckers followed the colorful fragments and found Ancio's encampment on a slope of Mount Toro, where they had apparently stopped to enjoy the maidens prior to going on to the cursed cave.

In the ensuing battle, many of Ancio's friends were killed. He, however, got away with a few of his followers, leaving the map behind. Since the maidens were rescued safe and sound, Botussin did not follow. Ancio never returned, nor did any of his friends.

"If they should ever return," the old chief said in his soft growl, "the spearchuckers will have them. The tribal council has banished them all and has sentenced them to death if they are found."

"Has Pico also been banished and sentenced to death?" I asked. After all, Pico had been Ancio's friend and the tribe never knew why Pico had disappeared.

"No," Botussin said. "Although we knew nothing of what you have told us about Pico, we suspected that he had known of Ancio's activities. After all, his own daughter had disappeared and we all knew that she must have become one of Ancio's victims. Pico has suffered greatly. Although he is not Ninca, he is welcome in Ninca lands if he wishes to return. His enemies are our enemies, his friends our friends. You are obviously his friend or you wouldn't be alive to tell me what you have told me of Pico."

I wanted to clear up that point about Pico eating people who came into his territory, but there was something else of far more importance.

"The map," I said, wondering just how I should phrase the question. "Was it destroyed?"

The old chief took a long time answering that. He looked at the faces around the circle, but there was nothing I could read on those dark, stony faces. His gaze finally fell on his son's face. Slowly, Purano nodded. The chief looked back at me.

"My father was the chief when Ancio was banished from the tribe. It was his decision to keep the map. He entrusted it to me and I shall entrust it to Purano when I go away from life."

"May we see the map?" I asked. I could feel Elicia and Antonio suck in breath at my bold request. Given the knowledge of the Indian's superstitions, or religious beliefs, about that cave, I was a bit surprised myself at my boldness. But a great deal was at stake here.

Once again, the old chief studied his lieutenants' faces and once more it was Purano who gave the nod of assent. The old man responded with a signal and Purano left the hut. The chief nodded toward two guards near the door.

"Remove their bonds," he commanded. "They are friends."

Elicia, whose body had been tense with fear, sagged against me. I glanced at her and her eyes were full of love. I was really turning the girl on and all I was doing was trying to save our lives the best way I knew how. Soon, I would have to do something to kill that love. It couldn't lead anywhere but to a broken heart for her. Or could it? I felt something stir inside me as I gazed into her soft, brown, adoring eyes. It wasn't lust.

While we were still rubbing our wrists and ankles trying to restore circulation, Purano returned with a scroll that looked like the world's oldest high school diploma. It was tied with a length of material that looked like a cow's artery. I learned later that it was.

Botussin dismissed all his lieutenants except Purano and the two of them gently spread the scroll out on the floor of the hut. Antonio, Elicia and I bent over it.

We couldn't make head nor tails of the thing. It was done in hieroglyphics. Nobody through the years had thought to transcribe it into more modern symbols. And there was a fragment of it missing, in the upper right hand corner. Much of what was left was so badly stained or faded that it might as well have been blank.

"None of us can read the map," Botussin explained. "The elder who died without heirs and entrusted the map to Ancio explained its hidden meanings to him. When he fled, he took the secret with him."

The map was obviously useless, but there was still a chance if the old chief were willing to help us. I put the issue to him.

"I'm afraid the map isn't of much use to us, Chief Botussin," I said, "and even though Pico has been to the cave his memories of that night have been virtually erased. We need your help, though. Don Carlos plans to touch off a bloody revolution in just three days. We have no time to search for the cave. We have to find a way to get up the side of the mountain. Will you provide warriors to help us?"

While he was considering the question, Antonio picked up the map and began to study the weird symbols and signs.

"You know something of such writings?" the chief asked.

"In our school, we learned of various Indian writings and cultures," Antonio said. "These look familiar to me. May we take the map? I would like to study it. Perhaps in time…"

The old chief sighed.

"You both ask much," he said in a weary voice. "I cannot help you with warriors in so hopeless a cause. Already, the most important religious leader of Apalca, a greedy monk named Intenday, has arrived in Nicarxa to meet with Don Carlos. Already, Intenday's caravan moves from the capital to the base of Mount Toro. Guards and soldiers are plentiful. I cannot lend warriors to be killed in attempts to reach the unreachable. You must understand our plight. So many of our maidens were killed by Ancio and his fanatic followers. When Purano was born, we had a large crop of male sons in that year. Today, Purano is past marrying age, yet he has not found a maiden suitable as a bride."

"What about those twenty maidens, including your own daughters, who were saved that night you discovered Ancio's encampment?" I asked.

"They were spoiled before we reached the encampment," Botussin said, matter-of-factly. "They could not become brides, thus could not produce offspring. Certainly none suitable for a prince of Purano's stature."

I thought the old man was being the utter fool, especially since I had noticed Purano giving Elicia a really thorough going-over with his dark, penetrating eyes, but I was in no position to mix in the tribe's cultural affairs. I let that subject drop.

"The map," I said. "May we at least take the map?"

Again Purano nodded and the chief said: "Take the map. Whether it serves your purposes or not, destroy it. I do not wish it to fall into evil hands."

Antonio was almost bowing in thanks to the fat old chief when a sudden thought hit me.

"You say an important religious leader from Apalca is on the way to see Don Carlos."

"Yes, his name is Intenday."

"How do you know such things?"

"We have ways. We keep informed of the activities of Don Carlos Italla. What he does will have devastating effects on the Ninca tribe."

"Will that religious leader be traveling alone, or with a group?"

"He will have his monks with him."

I knew then how to penetrate Don Carlos's tight security. I was ready to leap up and leave the Indian village instantly, but something the chief said held me.

"Why would the activities of Don Carlos have a devastating effect on the Nincas?"

"He hates us," the chief says. "He wants to destroy us. If you can find a way to get to him and not be destroyed in the process, I will supply warriors. Otherwise, we must keep our men here to defend the village when Don Carlos comes to kill us."

I was still puzzled. The old man wasn't making any sense.

"Why would he come to kill you? Why would he single out your tribe?"

"Because he is one of us. Don Carlos is a Ninca."

The puzzlement grew, and it showed clearly on my face. The old chief sighed again, seemed to sink deeper onto the stool and looked to his son for approbation. Purano, the silent, nodded once more.

"Don Carlos Italla," the chief said with a distinct growl, "was once banished and sentenced to death by the Nincas. Don Carlos Italla and the man you know as Ancio are one and the same."

I knew I had to go alone. It was not only too dangerous for Elicia and Antonio to go with me, but what I had to do was a one-man job. A job designed for N3, for AXE's top Killmaster.

Meanwhile, we were all nearing exhaustion and I knew that even I would fail without rest.

"What will we do, Senor Carter?" Antonio asked after Botussin and his son had left the hut.

I regarded his handsome, young face in the dim light from the single torch left by the tribal council. He was a courageous young man and I knew that if I told him what was on my mind he'd insist on going along. So would Elicia. She was still sitting close to me, touching me, looking a little disappointed that we weren't still tied together.

"First, we sleep," I said, avoiding Antonio's honest gaze. For some reason, I found it difficult to lie to this young rebel. Just as I found it difficult to be dishonest with Elicia. I could have made love to her on a number of occasions, especially back there in the jungle when she was bathing, and singing to herself, just behind that wall of vines.

"All right," Antonio said, lying back on his pallet and covering himself with the coarse blanket Botussin's servant had brought us. "But we must leave at first light. We must find a way up the mountain and we must do it soon."

"True," I said, lying back also and watching Elicia settle herself on her pallet right beside me. "Too true. But now, we sleep."

Antonio insisted that the torch be left on for a time so he could study that infernal map. Elicia clearly showed her disappointment. I knew she was waiting for darkness to slip under my blanket. Where would all my honesty with her be then? Would I refuse her again? I didn't know. Frankly, there was a lot of disappointment of my own when Antonio asked that the torch remain lighted.

The girl was getting to me. That song in the jungle kept running through my mind: "When my love is near me, I am like the rose; Budding, blossoming, flowering, More than my love knows." I could hear her sweet, bell-clear voice singing it. I could even feel her soft body touching me, rubbing against me.

And it was more than the song and the voice and the physical touching. The girl was touching me in other places, deep in my soul. Of all the women I had known in my uncountable escapades as N3, few had strummed those deep chords. There had been some I had loved, some I had merely dallied with — even been dishonest with. They were all different. Or, to put it another way, Elicia was different.

The open honesty that I could see readily in Antonio was there in spades in Elicia. In spite of all that happened to her, she was truly the innocent, the unsullied, the pure. That was because everything that had happened to her had happened only to her flesh. Nothing had harmed her soul, her goodness. And what she wanted from me was not a mere meeting of the flesh. My flesh was ready, God knew; it had been ready since that first night on the trail when she had overcome her aversion to the rapings and had begun to touch me, subtly, in the dark. But as yet my soul wasn't ready for that honest and pure meeting with this precious girl.