The Cult of Sutek Page 10

  But Rondel disagreed, and though he wanted to leave as badly as Andrasta, he needed to do something first. It was his way to repay Horus for the favor from earlier when he had saved Rondel from complete embarrassment at dinner.

  Then I can worry about trying to convince Andrasta to continue to trust me. Twenty senyu is still more than we had before.

  He hustled through the hall and darted toward Dendera.

  Rondel realized that he had ignored her completely since their arrival. A guilty conscious had much to do with it. Whether the marriage to Kafele was the right thing to do or not, he still felt sympathy for her.

  Dendera stood next to King Kafele, looking bored, disgusted, and dismayed. Kafele spoke with another lord that Horus hoped to gain support from. The count occasionally glanced down at his much younger bride-to-be, lingering at the hint of cleavage peeking out of her top. A tiny smirk, absent of several teeth, shone between his thin lips.

  Kafele noticed him approach and raised an eyebrow. Rondel forced a smile. “Excuse me, King. My partner and I were just about to leave, and with your permission, I would like to say good-bye to your future wife.”

  “Well, I would rather—”

  “Thank you.” Rondel cut the man off as he pulled Dendera aside.

  “What is it? Making sure I marry that shriveled old man isn’t enough?” she hissed when out of earshot from anyone else.

  He let go. “I just wanted to say that I really am sorry that your father wants you to marry that man. However, you have to promise me you won’t run away again.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Your father needs this marriage. Far more than you realize.”

  “Did he say something to you?”

  “Yes. But it isn’t for me to tell. Just don’t mess this up.”

  Rondel turned on his heels and left before Dendera could argue with him. He knew that if the girl wanted to run away again, she could. His last minute plea would probably mean very little to her, but he couldn’t leave without saying something.

  Across the hall, Andrasta waited in front of the double doors that led out of the hall. Horus walked in front of her, blocking Rondel’s view of her disdainful expression. The king and a southern noble standing near her began talking in earnest.

  Rondel looked back to his partner just as she straightened. Sniffing the air, her arm went down to the sword at her waist.

  What? He smelled it too. Like a rotting corpse.

  The great hall went dark.

  Swords clashed, people screamed, and chairs and tables clattered to the floor in the pitch black chaos. Rondel drew his own sword and dropped to the floor, not wanting to be a casualty in the mayhem.

  He didn’t have to wait long as the hearth, candles, lamps, and even the torches of the fire-eaters all re-lit themselves as quickly as they had been extinguished.

  Screams continued as people pointed toward the doors. Andrasta stood over the prone bodies of King Horus and two of his guards. Blood dripped from the edge of her sword.

  She looked down and then across at Rondel, confused. Guards surrounded her and demanded she drop the weapon. She scowled at Rondel as if it were all his fault.

  What did she do?

  “Dendera! Where is my Dendera?” came the shout of an old man’s voice. “By the gods, not again.”

  Heads turned toward a panicky King Kafele. “She’s not here.” His eyes drifted to Rondel. They widened as he pointed. “He was with her last. Arrest him!”

  Rondel cursed while thinking of the look Andrasta had given him.

  We should have left when we had the chance.

  Chapter 6

  Rondel thought his heart might jump out of his chest as the beats matched the flickering torchlight dancing off the limestone walls of Horus’s dungeons.

  Twice the guards struck him across the back of his head, threatening far worse. His head throbbed from the blows, but the pain was nothing compared to the fear gripping him. He tried to remain calm, taking deep breaths, but he could not inhale or exhale slowly enough to ease his anxiety. Each echoing footfall along the walls of the cool, underground dungeon brought back jolting memories from the hell he had once known.

  “Gods, look how scared he is. Is he going to make it?” one of the guards asked.

  “Who cares if he doesn’t? They’re bringing the other one behind us,” said another.

  “She’s tough though,” whispered the first.

  “They all think they’re tough.”

  Rondel’s tongue felt as thick as a pillow and as dry as a harsh desert. The meaty hand squeezing his arm urged him to take a right at a fork in the dim corridor. It looked darker that way and Rondel’s feet refused to move.

  A curse sounded from behind at his hesitation. Something struck him across the shoulder. He cried out while being yanked in the intended direction.

  Gods, I can’t live like this again. I’ll kill myself first.

  The guards stopped in front of iron bars. One fumbled with a set of keys until the tumbler turned. The cell door creaked open.

  They threw Rondel inside. It smelled of mildew and piss.

  He careened to the floor, turning his shoulder so it took the brunt of the fall. Andrasta followed him in.

  Guards dragged them to opposite walls of the cell. They were chained to thick, metal rings hammered into the rough limestone.

  “You’re not going to loosen these?” asked Andrasta.

  Head down and staring at the floor, Rondel didn’t see the slap that struck his partner, but he heard it. Andrasta spat and cursed. He looked up as a guard backhanded her again.

  Andrasta clamped her mouth shut over her bloody lip, but could not wipe away her venomous expression.

  The guards left, locking the cell. “You better pray to the gods that the king doesn’t die.”

  Footsteps faded away and with it the torchlight that had illuminated the space.

  Lyrics from one of the darker songs embedded in his memory pushed to the forefront of his mind.

  Lost again in nightmares

  Even in the company of others, I feel alone

  There is no escape from these horrors

  Hell is now my home

  * * *

  Andrasta’s hand clenched in anger as the welt on her face throbbed. She used that anger to flare and flex her chest, arms, and back. She pulled and twisted, joints screaming for her to stop. She didn’t stop until her head spun with dizziness. The manacles were too strong for her to break.

  She rested her head back against the cool, limestone wall, allowing her burning muscles to relax. Blood pumped in her ears as she caught her breath.

  Why did I ever agree to this partnership? I always worked alone.

  Something about Rondel had caught her attention. It was the same something that had stopped her from leaving him behind in the city after they escaped the prison.

  He did distract the bodyguard. It bought me enough time to kill the behemoth.

  Is that why I helped Rondel escape the city? Out of guilt for him helping me?

  The thought of once needing his help continued to anger her. She had doubled her training efforts after her fight with Fern, remembering the harsh words of her old master.

  “Why do I waste my time with a girl? You will never be a match for the men of our tribes.”

  He had meant those words to belittle her. To get her to quit. But they drove her.

  They still did.

  The hasty inhale and exhale of breath from Rondel jarred her thoughts.

  “Calm down,” she snapped.

  Perhaps the better question is why do I continue to stay in this partnership? What has it brought me other than frustration and headache?

  “I can’t live in a place like this again,” he muttered, voice shaky.

  “The likelihood of us living here for any length of time is slim.”

  “Huh?”

  “They’re going to kill us. Sooner rather than later, I’d imagine. So, calm down and
test your binds. Perhaps yours are weaker than mine.”

  Andrasta couldn’t see anything, but she heard Rondel grunt and struggle as chains slid across stone. After a few moments the scraping stopped.

  “Any luck?”

  “No.”

  “I didn’t think so.” She blew out a heavy breath. “I guess we wait until the guards return.”

  “And do what?”

  “We try to escape.” She paused. “How do you want to handle it? We won’t be able to do the same thing as before since both of us are bound.” She paused, considering their situation. “What is it with you and prisons?”

  “I could say the same thing of you. And are you trying to say this is my fault?” Rondel’s voice was beginning to find life.

  Good. Anger is better than pity. Anger gives us a chance.

  She pushed. “It was your idea to bring the girl to Girga. It was your idea to stay for some ridiculous celebration rather than getting our money and leaving. It was your idea to accept that pathetic reward. And it was your idea to go talk to the girl before leaving.”

  “It was you who stabbed Horus.”

  She sucked her teeth. “Don’t tell me you believe that.”

  “You were holding a bloody sword with two dead guardsmen and an injured king at your feet.”

  “Think. I didn’t try to kill the king any more than you kidnapped the girl.”

  Silence stretched and she grew frustrated.

  I’m finding fewer reasons to maintain this partnership all the time.

  “You’re right. I’m sorry.” His voice came out calm and even.

  Finally. He’s getting his wits together.

  “Now, I did kill the guards.”

  “What?”

  “I had cause for that. Before the lights went out, there was a smell of old death in the air, like a decomposing corpse. It was faint, but strong enough to make the hair on the back of my neck stand.”

  “I smelled it too.”

  She continued. “That’s when I reached for my sword. When the hall darkened, voices spoke in a different language. Swords came loose of scabbards and someone mentioned killing the king in a language I actually understood. I sensed someone was about to attack me so I defended myself. When the light returned, I saw it had been the guardsmen.”

  Rondel swore. “We were set up to take the blame.”

  “It appears that way,” said Andrasta. “But by whom?”

  “It could have been anyone. The hall was filled with tension and uncertainty. Whoever it was, they knew what they were doing, waiting until we were about to leave, after we met with Horus alone. It’s possible they knew we were discussing compensation with him and that we’d be upset with what was given us. The guards who accompanied Horus when he told us about being broke will think we had cause for trying to kill him.”

  Good. His fear passed and he’s thinking clearly again.

  Andrasta clicked her tongue. “A lot going against us.”

  “Except Horus is alive. He’ll listen if we explain what really happened.”

  “Maybe. But we both saw how close to death he was. Even if someone doesn’t try to finish the job, he may die on his own before sunrise.”

  Rondel sighed. “You’re right. We need to figure out how to escape when the guards come back. Odds will be against us but it’s better than just sitting around waiting.”

  “I’m open to ideas.”

  “Me too.”

  Andrasta snorted.

  I hate relying on others.

  She thought of where they would be if they had left when she wanted to.

  Where I could be.

  She had carried the pouch of money, not Rondel. She could have left him and the city behind. She had considered it, but as with each time she thought of abandoning Rondel, a niggling pull in her stomach kept her from doing so.

  She hated that pull.

  Her master once told her that every warrior should ignore their mind and follow their gut when in the moment. She began to realize that outside of battle, that advice did not hold the same weight it did when a sword was in hand.

  * * *

  Andrasta’s faint snoring drifted through the darkness in a way that Rondel found surprisingly comforting.

  I’m not alone.

  His talk with her had eased his worries. He couldn’t explain why since the facts remained the same. They would likely be tortured and put to death.

  But I guess there is at least the promise of death rather than the endless nothingness I had in prison before. He felt like he could take the pain, no matter how severe, if there was a release at the end.

  Easier to think that now. How will I feel when the pain starts?

  He and Andrasta had talked through several possibilities of escape. All were filled with holes and what-ifs. Still, with their best plan decided upon, Andrasta fell asleep.

  Rondel’s lids grew heavy at the constant, low drone from Andrasta. He wondered if it would be the last sleep he’d ever have.

  “Rondel. Andrasta. Are you there?” came a hushed voice.

  Rondel’s eyes opened. Andrasta’s snoring ceased.

  Neither said anything.

  A sigh pierced the silence followed by a spark that lit a small torch. A hint of sulfur hung in the air. Rondel looked away from the bright glow at the cell door. It pained his eyes, causing them to water.

  “There you are. I feared you might already be dead.”

  Rondel blinked and faced the light. Jahi stood on the other side of the door, fumbling with a set of jingling keys.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  “Getting you out. I thought that was obvious.”

  “Is this a trap?” asked Andrasta.

  “Yes, because it makes complete sense that the son of the man you are accused of trying to murder would come alone to a dungeon and free you only to lead you to another place to die.”

  And I thought I could be sarcastic.

  “So, you don’t think we tried to kill your father? Or kidnap your sister?”

  “I wouldn’t be here if I did.”

  The door swung open and Jahi entered, but not before quickly looking back down the corridor. “We have to do this fast,” he said.

  Andrasta turned her back to Jahi, exposing her chains. “Then hurry.”

  “Not yet. We have terms to discuss.” Jahi came over to Rondel, knife in hand. His free hand went to the leg of his trousers.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Stay still. I promise I will not harm you. I will explain after I check.”

  The boy yanked down Rondel’s trousers, exposing his inner thighs. He grunted and went to Andrasta.

  “You touch me, and I’ll kill you. I don’t need my hands to do that,” said Andrasta.

  “Maybe. However, if you kill me, then you have no chance to get out of here.”

  “What are you looking for?”

  “I said I would explain afterward.”

  Andrasta growled. “Fine.”

  To the boy’s credit, he checked Andrasta as quickly as he had Rondel, not lingering as most boys his age would have.

  Jahi stepped back. “I need your word that you’ll help me.”

  “Help you?” asked Rondel.

  “You both dismissed me when I tried to talk about the Cult of Sutek. I figure that since you’ve been set up by them, you might be inclined to not only agree that they are a real threat, but also be willing to help me do something about it.”

  “The cult was behind what happened?”

  “Yes. The captain of my father’s personal guard stripped the bodies of the guards that died near Andrasta. We found the mark of Sutek on their inner thighs. Afterward we searched every guard and servant on staff. We found a half dozen others with the same mark. They all managed to avoid questioning by killing themselves with a pill they kept in their mouths.”

  “Idiots,” hissed Andrasta.

  “What does the marking look like?” Rondel asked.


  “It’s a tattoo of an upside down skull, fractured down the middle by a burn on the flesh.”

  “You saw we have no mark. You have no right to hold us then,” said Rondel.

  “Sure we do. You are in our city,” said Jahi. “And my father’s captain isn’t entirely convinced you weren’t involved in what happened. He plans to keep you locked up until Father wakes.” He paused. “We can’t afford to wait that long. The cult must have my sister too and only the gods know what they plan to do with her. I need your help getting her back.”

  “Why should we do that?” asked Andrasta. “Your father is broke.”

  “Because I will otherwise leave you here. I’ll go find her myself if I can’t count on you. And if both my father and I die, there would be no heir to his lands. What do you think will happen to you in that case? At best, you’ll hang. At worst, you’ll be forgotten in the grab for power that follows our deaths and starve slowly.”

  Rondel cleared his throat. “When you put it like that, I think I speak for both of us by saying we’ll be more than happy to help you find Dendera. Besides, your father is a good man and a good friend. I saw how happy he was to have his daughter back. Why wouldn’t I want to help him again?”

  “Good. Your weapons and things are outside the cell.”

  * * *

  Jahi led Rondel and Andrasta through two more levels and at least a dozen turns before exiting the dungeons at an unguarded, narrow tunnel that acted as a back entrance. The warm night air was a relief against Rondel’s skin from the cool cells below.

  “Why does your father not have anyone watch this exit?” asked Rondel, standing.

  “Assigning a guard would only make others aware of it. Father made sure no one but me and Dendera knew of its existence. We’re only supposed to use it in the case of an emergency.” He gestured to the opening as Andrasta squeezed out. “The opening is barely noticeable, and we’re mere feet from it. From down there,” he said, pointing to the lower parts of Girga, “it’s impossible to see.”

  Does every noble have a secret exit out of their home?

  “Fair enough. What’s the plan?” asked Rondel.

  The boy frowned. “I don’t have one. I only thought far enough ahead to get you out.”