They were panting from exertion and also from the heat — the rocks were even hotter here than at Hamata. They had to remove a layer of clothes as they stood in the shadow of the mountain.
There was a cave entrance nearby, nine feet high by seven wide. Large, jagged boulders stood on either side, like rocky sentries. It was the doorway to Sabbah Eid’s cave, exactly as described in the legends of the Um Aineh. According to the stories, only a successful quester and his companion could enter. All others would perish horrifically if they stepped across the threshold.
Jebel and Tel Hesani gulped, then started forward in silence. They passed the boulders and stood gazing into the darkness of the cave.
“Do you go first, or should I walk ahead of you?” Tel Hesani asked.
“I’m not sure,” Jebel said. “Maybe we should enter together.”
“I would like that.” Tel Hesani smiled. “And don’t worry. I’ll be beside you every step of the—”
Something struck the back of his head and he dropped, gasping with pain. Jebel thought a stone had fallen on Tel Hesani, and was bending to help him up, when a loud, angry voice froze the boy to the spot.
“Leave that cur alone, and stand with your hands over your head!”
The voice came from one of the boulders to Jebel’s left. Looking up, he saw half a dozen vicious, ragged creatures, five men and a woman, bone-thin, nicked with cuts and bites, their faces badly scarred, some missing ears, a nose, eyes, fingers. And at the front, the worst of the lot, both ears ripped off, one eye gone, a chunk torn out of his left cheek so that anyone looking at him from the side could see his tongue, was their leader — the crazed, enraged, vengeful Qasr Bint.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
As the Um Biyara leapt from the rocks, Tel Hesani struggled to his feet and drew a dagger. He tried to push Jebel behind him, but the boy refused to be shielded. “We fight together!” he cried, drawing a knife of his own.
“Very well,
The zealots outnumbered Jebel and Tel Hesani but were in a worse state than the boy and the Um Kheshabah. The bats and um Gathaah had savaged them, and the road to Tubaygat had drained them even further. Only their hatred had kept them going as their strength failed and survivors dropped along the way. It was by no means an even fight, but Jebel and Tel Hesani stood more of a chance than they would have in a fight with six healthy opponents.
Qasr Bint and three of the men struck at Tel Hesani, leaving the woman and the remaining man to deal with Jebel. The man wielded a spear, the woman a pair of knives. When the man jabbed at Jebel, the boy sidestepped, then deflected the woman’s blades as she followed up. He moved faster than his assailants, and even had time to strike at the man and open a wound on his right shoulder before preparing for the next attack.
To his left, Tel Hesani had killed the foremost of the Um Biyara, but that was no great achievement — the man was almost dead anyway. He had been pushed ahead to distract Tel Hesani as the others launched a coordinated attack. They struck rabidly, snarling and spitting as they dug at him with knives, spears, and sticks, forcing him to retreat.
Jebel’s pair closed in on him again. This time the woman came first, knives twirling, teeth bared. He avoided her first lunge and turned her second blade aside. But he couldn’t dodge the man’s spear as it jabbed into his hip, bounced off the bone, and ripped free of his flesh.
Jebel cried out but didn’t drop his guard. Though the man was too far away to hit, Jebel feinted at him, forcing him to take a half-step back. Then the boy lashed out at the woman and caught her left hand, slicing the top of it wide open, causing her to drop her knife and flail away from him.
Qasr Bint prodded the top of his staff into Tel Hesani’s face, working on his eyes, trying to blind him with the beak of the baby vulture’s head. But Tel Hesani kept his chin low, bobbing his head left and right.
As Jebel avoided another assault, one of the men with Qasr Bint stepped too close to Tel Hesani, and the Um Kheshabah drove his knife deep into the man’s throat. Before Qasr Bint and his remaining companion had time to take advantage of the situation, Tel Hesani slipped out of reach. The advantage was his now, and on a level field he would probably have gone on to dispatch the final pair. But the fragile rock of the al-Meata floor crumbled beneath him as his foot came down. Although there was no pit, the drop of a few inches sent him tumbling. Before he could steady himself, Qasr Bint was over him, screaming triumphantly. Tel Hesani caught a glimpse of the zealot’s staff raised high. Then Qasr Bint drove the tip — which he’d sharpened to a spearlike point — deep into Tel Hesani’s chest, just below his heart.
Tel Hesani roared with fierce pain. The world flashed white. His fingers went limp, and the knife dropped. He fell back, helpless. It was a fatal wound, and he knew he would be dead within minutes unless Qasr Bint chose to finish him off sooner.
Jebel saw Tel Hesani fall. Ignoring his own safety, he darted towards his one-time slave. The woman stuck her leg between his and tripped him. He crashed to his hands and knees, scraping them raw. Grimacing with pain, he propelled himself to his feet — but was knocked down by the man, who drove an elbow into the small of Jebel’s back, then pinned him to the ground while the woman disarmed him. When she’d done that, she replaced the man on Jebel’s back and perched on him like a wild cat, digging in with her nails.
Jebel struggled until he realized how futile it was. Pausing, he looked over to see what sort of a state Tel Hesani was in. Qasr Bint had withdrawn the tip of his staff and was staring at the blood oozing out of the hole. He looked disappointed, as if he was sorry to have finished the slave off this quickly.
“Can I kill the boy now?” the woman asked, pointing her knife first at Jebel’s left eye, then his right.
Qasr Bint shook his head. “Not yet.” Stepping away from the dying Tel Hesani, he stood before Jebel and grinned demonically. Because of the missing flesh in his cheek, the grin seemed to stretch around the side of his face.
“So, boy, we come to our end. I’m sure you thought you’d seen the last of Qasr Bint and his children. But although many wicked spirits fell foul of those accursed bats, the pure among us made it over the bridge. We fought back the um Gathaah, and then we pushed on. I knew you’d come here.”
“How?” Jebel moaned. “We never told you where we were going.”
“You think I don’t know the mark of a quester?” Qasr Bint roared, poking at Jebel’s right arm with his staff, where the tattoo of the coiled serpent was hidden beneath the um Wadi’s sleeve. “That’s the reason I chose you in the first place. I knew, when I saw you in the Uneishu, that you were a quester and his slave, on their way to worship the false god Sabbah Eid.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Jebel asked.
Qasr Bint smirked. “I was biding my time. I’ve long been curious about this place. I decided the time was ripe to explore, to come here with you and expose your god for the fake that he is. But I didn’t want to reveal my hand too soon. You might have—”
Tel Hesani groaned. Qasr Bint glared at the Um Kheshabah, then looked at Jebel again, nervously now. “We planned to kill you when you arrived. You cursed our mission. You’re the reason we fell foul of the bat-worshippers. You need to be wiped from the face of Makhras forever. But…” He hesitated.
“The fire,” one of the men said softly, gazing at the cave. “We sent a woman in first, and an unearthly fire devoured her. She died screaming.” He gulped.
“There’s no such god as Sabbah Eid,” Qasr Bint snorted. “Our gods alone are real. But sometimes one of them gets trapped on Makhras and mistaken by fools for a different deity. Such a god obviously resides in Tubaygat.”
Qasr Bint squatted beside Jebel and forced his chin up, so that they were staring directly at each other. “You
“I don’t understand,” Jebel wheezed. “What do you want me to do?”
“Take us in,” croaked Qasr Bint. “Only a quester and his companions can enter that cave. You’re going to get
