Journey to the Lost Tomb (Rowan and Ella Book 2) (40 page)

She
clawed into her memory to recall what Halima had told her about the third test.

There would be three choices. She would
need to use her instincts. She would need to trust herself.

           
They
would all three die if she guessed wrong.

           
Squinting
across the valley, she could see the facing cliff was only about two hundred yards
away. As she fought to see through the distance in the gloom, she could make
out the ghostly form of something hanging from a large banyan tree on the verge
of the facing cliff. It was a sling. Ella knew without knowing how she did that
Rowan and her baby were in that sling. A terrible craving began to pull her to
the edge of the cliff, toward them. She reached out her hand for the rope she
knew would be there—anchored by nothing from above but her faith that it
would hold her. She grasped the rope and wrapped the end around her waist and
leapt off the cliff.

           
As
soon as her feet left the ground, the chasm between the two cliffs widened,
pushing the sling further and further from her. The emptiness beneath her
filled up with a dark roiling movement like a thundercloud developing. As she
swung out over it, an unseen hand reached up to grab her foot and when she
looked down she could see that the abyss was full of the torment of many
tortured souls swimming in a sea of fire and death, their arms reaching, grasping,
flailing in their attempts to bring her down among them. Ella pulled her knees
up and focused on the sling nearly within her reach now on the other side.
Suddenly, she felt the hard rock of the facing cliff under her feet and she
dropped the rope and scrambled to where the sling hung, the moving forms inside
clearly that of her husband and child.

           
As
soon as she touched the sling it dissolved in her hands. She stood on the
opposite cliff and fought down her frustration and anguish, reminding herself
that it was all just a hallucination.
Was
that the first test? Had she passed?
She turned to look beyond where the
sling had been and saw a simple altar set up before her. The night had morphed
into morning and a beautiful beam of sunlight lit up the altar. She walked
quickly to it. On the left side of the altar was a stack of three gold
bars—enough to make anyone wealthy for the rest of their days. On the
right was a small lamb, its left forefoot caught in a snare of hemp and metal.
Ella reached for the snare to release the creature but before she could touch
it, like the sling, the altar with the lamb and the gold disappeared.

           
She
swallowed her fear and worry.
Was that
the second test? Were they all going to be this easy? Was there a trick coming
up with the final test?
 

           
She
snapped her head in the direction of the interior of the woods that led from
the cliff’s edge and then froze. She had heard something she had never heard
before. Something she couldn’t possibly have heard.

           
It
was the sound of her baby’s cry.

           
I’m coming, Tater! I’m coming!
she
thought as she turned and ran in the direction of the sound. Her heart beat
hard and her panic ballooned with every step, threatening to overwhelm her.
Was someone hurting him? Was he hungry?
Scared?
She ran faster, led by the soft low wailing that she knew as well
as she knew her own breath. When she came to the sarcophagus sitting in the
middle of the woods, she knew she had found the final test.
The sling. The lamb. The coffin
. As she
approached, she watched the coffin change shape, like a hologram, from a
sarcophagus to a baby crib and back again.

           
She
moved without hesitation to the coffin and grabbed the lid with both hands. It
was heavy and she was forced to slide it off at an angle to see what was
inside. She didn’t know if she had been consciously expecting to find Rowan’s
body inside—or the baby’s—she tried to remind herself that this was
all not real, no matter how important it felt. And yet when she opened the
coffin and looked inside, she recoiled in horror at what she saw.

           
The
sarcophagus was filled with hundreds of swarming, slithering serpents of every
size and kind. They were biting each other and lunging up at her as she stood transfixed,
watching them. There were adders and timber rattlers, cobras and mambas, all
intertwining in a frenetic convulsive knot of venomous ire. Ella’s stomach
bucked at the sight and her first instinct was to pull the lid shut to make
sure they didn’t get out or come after her. Before she could act, she saw it.
There, beneath the mass of slithering snakes, she caught a glimpse of a wooden
figurine at the bottom of the coffin. It was a carved statuette of a man
holding an infant in his arms.

           
This was it.
Without pausing to think,
Ella leaned over the coffin and plunged her arm into the depths of the swirling
maelstrom of striking, biting evil, feeling every bite as the snakes latched
onto her hand, until she touched the statue and grabbed it by the base. As soon
as she did, the snakes vanished. Ella stumbled to her knees, holding the statue
to her chest. When she recovered herself enough to look at the statue, she could
see it was a statue of a man
and a woman
standing
together, their arms cradling the child between them. And then the statue
disappeared from her hands leaving behind not even dust or the faint scent of
the cedar it had been carved from. Ella put her hands to her face to cover her
eyes and tamp down the feeling of overwhelming loss that began to engulf her.

           
“Ella?”

           
She
dropped her hands to see Rowan sitting up at the base of the ravine, his shirt
soaked with blood, rubbing his face with one hand.

She was back.

           
“What
happened? Where are we?” Rowan was struggling to get to his feet.

           
Ella
began to move toward him and then awkwardly stumbled. She steadied herself and
realized that she was pregnant again. She waddled over to him and put her hand
on his cheek to turn his face to the light. “Rowan?” she whispered, barely
daring to believe it. “You okay?”

           
“I
feel like I’ve been rolled down a goddamn hill. Wait a minute!” His face
glowered with a sudden realization. “That bastard Digby stabbed me!” He touched
a tentative hand to his chest and withdrew fingers coated with gore but further
probing revealed no wound. He looked at Ella in confusion.

           
Ella
laughed and fought not to give into hysteria. She threw her arms around him and
crushed him to her until they both fell over in the dirt and the bushes.

           
“Ouch,
Ella,” Rowan said with annoyance. “I’ve got every kind of bruise and cut you
can imagine.”

           
“Oh,
Rowan,” Ella said, wiping tears from her face and laughing outright again. “I
can’t even begin to explain to you what happened and I’m not sure you’d believe
me if I did.”

           
“Okay,
you’re going to have to get off me, babe,” Rowan said, patting her bottom to
urge her to move off of him. “We can have this reunion dance or whatever it is
some place a little less hard and wet.”

           
“Rowan?
Rowan, is that you down there?”

           
Ella
and Rowan lifted their heads to see Marvel carefully skidding down the ravine
to where they were sitting.

           
“What
are you doing down here?” she asked. “Oh, my God, Rowan! You’re hurt! Did they
shoot you? What happened?”

           
Rowan
got to his feet and held out a hand to help Ella up. “It’s not my blood,” he
lied, glancing at Ella who had stopped laughing and was now frowning at Marvel
as she descended the hill.

           
“There’s
been a battle going on. Did you miss it?” Marvel said, dusting off dirt from
her dress.

           
“A
battle? What are you talking about?” Rowan, perhaps seeing how clean Marvel
looked, began to slap dirt off Ella’s robe. He looked at her in confusion. “Why
are you out here in your dressing gown?”

           
“Yes,
we were attacked!” Marvel said. “Josh said they were desert rats. There were twenty
of them! Or more! All armed and shooting. I cannot believe you didn’t know
about it. Every man in the camp was shooting and fighting them off.”
 

           
“Are
they gone now?” Rowan asked, looking up the ravine where the camp was.

           
“Yes,
Josh says we ran them off. He thinks they were trying to rob the payroll.”

           
“How
did they know where it was?” Rowan asked as he and Ella began to climb up the
ravine together.

           
“That’s
just what Mr. Carter wants to know!”

Julia stood at
the base of the valley, partially hidden by a large desert shrub and watched as
the last of Ammon’s men galloped away into the night. She listened to the
sounds of their horses’ thundering hooves fading until all that was left was
the eerie quiet of a silent Egyptian night.

She had been able
to keep her eye on Ammon’s white robes for awhile during the fracas but
eventually she lost sight of him. She heard the guns—so many guns! And
everyone seemed to be yelling at once. It didn’t seem to have lasted very long,
it felt like minutes, really, and then she was watching the men race away on
their ponies, over the rise and out of the valley. When she saw them go, her
heart began to pound in her ears and her throat went suddenly dry—even
more than when she was watching the battle below. She found herself praying
they weren’t leaving because they’d seen their leader fall. She prayed they
were leaving because Ammon had told them to. She then prayed he wasn’t leading
them in their flight away from the camp.

Ammon had
positioned her here where she might be close enough to see the battle but not
too close to be harmed. He had kissed her then—unusual for him in front
of the men—and taken her pony and indicated to her that she was to wait
for him.

He had taken her pony.

Julia listened to
the sounds of camp as it returned to normal. She thought she could hear the
deep rumble of Mr. Spenser yelling to his men and the higher pitched voices of
the camp servants in response. At one point she heard a horse whinny loudly and
she hoped none of them had been hurt in the battle.

What folly this had been. To attack the camp—even with
the element of surprise, they had been hopelessly outnumbered. How desperate
had she been to urge him to do this?

She wiped her
hands on her dress. It was filthy and in virtual rags. Except for one washing
in a creek polluted with camel dung, she had not cleaned it or changed it in
the five months she had lived with Ammon’s people.

She pulled the
branches of the bushes apart to start walking in the direction Ammon’s men had
gone when suddenly, she heard a sound that made her whirl around. It was the
sound of a stealthy footstep, behind her.

He had come back for her!

“Ammon?” she
cried out, and then immediately cursed herself. He would want to steal away
secretly, of course.
Why else would he be
creeping back to her so silently? It didn’t matter. None of it did. The only
thing that mattered was that he had returned for her.

She emerged from
the bushes.
I knew you wouldn’t leave me,
she thought, her heart racing with anticipation.
I knew you wouldn’t.

“I hate to
disappoint you, my dove.”

Julia stopped.
That didn’t make sense. That
voice
didn’t make sense.

He tore the
branches aside from the highest bush that separated them and grinned at her.

It was Edward.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Julia gasped when
she saw him. His clothes were soiled and disheveled but it was the look in his
eye that astonished her the most. It was wild, fevered.

And utterly mad.

“You!” she said
and took a step backward. The disappointment at not seeing Ammon was so
intense, she didn’t even care that he had a gun in his hand and that it was
pointed at her.

“Yes, my sweet.
Or perhaps not so sweet? I say, precious, you’ve gone native. I’ll be doing
your family a favor by putting a bullet between your eyes. Save your father the
trouble. Or did you think he’d just welcome you home after you’d rolled about
in the muckheap with every sand wog in the Sahara?”

Julia stood
facing him and felt the cavernous emptiness of her loss roll over her in a
gut-wrenching wave.
Would she really
never see him again? Was he really gone for good?

Without warning,
she pressed her fists to her temples and screamed in a long wail of anguished
frustration.

“I say, old
girl,” Digby said casually, “screaming won’t help.” He pointed the gun at her face.
“Everyone in camp is just a tick distracted at the moment as I’m sure you can
imagine. Which is why they won’t think a thing of finding your body with a
bullet hole in it. These things happen in a battle, you know. People get hurt.”

“I don’t care,” she
said, sinking to her knees on the ground.

“Jolly sensible,
my dear,” Digby said, cocking the gun, “for everyone concerned. I say, you do
look a sight. Never would have thought it of you, Julia. You were never that
keen when
I
had a go at you.”

“If you’re going
to kill me, just do it,” Julia said dully, staring down at her hands. “Just
bloody well do it,” she whispered, closing her eyes, and letting her misery
cascade over her.

“If you do, it’ll
be the last thing you do.”

           
Julia
jerked her head up to see a strange man walking quickly up to them. The front
of his shirt was covered in blood and he had a large gun pointed at Digby. She
watched her husband’s face go white.

           
“It’s
not p-p-possible,” Digby stuttered. “I…you’re dead.”

           
“What
makes you think that, asshole?” the stranger said, glancing briefly at Julia.
“You okay, ma’am?”

Julia nodded
dumbly and slowly got to her feet.

 
“Would it be because you stabbed me and
left me for dead an hour ago?”

           
“It’s
not possible!” Digby repeated, turning his body toward Rowan as if to shoot him
and finish the job once and for all.

           
“Put
the gun down, Digby,” Rowan said.

           
Digby
wheeled back to Julia who was looking between the two of them with growing confusion.
“You will not stop me this time!” he cried, aiming the gun at Julia.

           
Rowan
shot him in the shoulder and took a step nearer as Digby clutched his shoulder
and swung the gun in Rowan’s direction. Before he could raise it to aim, Rowan
shot him again. Digby stood stunned for a moment and then dropped his weapon.
He looked down at the small spray of blood that spurted from the center of his
chest and then up at Rowan. He sank to his knees and then fell face-first into
the hard packed dirt on the trail.

           
Rowan
scooped up the dropped gun, stepped over Digby’s body and put his hand on
Julia’s arm. She looked at Edward’s body on the ground. The handsome stranger
was talking to her as if he knew her. It felt like it was all happening in a
dream. She looked into his face and realized he had kind eyes.

           
“Julia?”
Rowan gave her arm a light shake. “You okay? You’re not gonna faint on me, are
you?”

           
Julia’s
large blue eyes widened as she looked back and forth from Rowan to Digby.

           
“You
really
do
exist,” she said, then
closed her eyes and fainted.

           
Julia
woke up in Rowan’s arms as he carried her back to camp. He glanced down at her.
“Hey, there. How you feeling?”

           
“You’re
Ella’s husband?”

           
“I
am.”

           
“Is
Ella here?”

           
“Julia!”
Ella ran out of their tent when she saw them approach and Rowan set Julia on
her feet. Ella threw her arms around her friend. “We heard you scream,” Ella
said. “Are you okay?” She pulled a long matted curl out of Julia’s face.

           
“My
Lord, Ella,” Julia said, taking a step back to get a better look at her, “you
are going to have this baby within
minutes
.
Your husband just saved me. Edward was intent on shooting me, if you can
believe it! Oh, Ella, Ammon left me!” Julia burst into tears and Ella pulled
her into her arms and patted her on the back. She looked at Rowan over Julia’s
shoulder.

           
“What
happened?” she asked.

           
Rowan
ran a hand through his thick brown hair and shrugged. “Well, Digby’s dead.”

           
“Yes,
dead
,” Julia said pulling out of
Ella’s arms. She faced Rowan. “Thank you. I am so sorry not to have said that
before now. You saved my life.”

           
“My
absolute pleasure, ma’am. I’m not sure I didn’t do it mostly for myself.”

           
Julia
turned back to Ella. “Ammon’s through with me.” Her lips quivered in her
attempt not to cry.

           
“I
know, sweetie,” Ella said, taking her hand and leading her toward their tent. “You
told me. Let’s have some tea. Doesn’t that always make everything better?”

           
Marvel
stood in the doorway of the tent barring their entry. When they heard Julia’s
scream, Rowan had grabbed Marvel’s gun and took off at a run but not before
ordering the two women directly back to Rowan and Ella’s tent.

           
“Maybe
my
tent would be better,” Marvel said
ominously, looking at Rowan, who frowned.

           
“Your
tent?” Rowan said. “Why?”

           
“Oh,
she’s talking about Abdullah,” Ella said, looking at Julia as if trying to
gauge how upsetting a dead Arab at her feet while drinking a cup of tea might be
for her.

           
“Abdullah?”
Rowan said. “
Digby’s
man?”

“Can we talk
about this another time?” Ella asked, starting to steer Julia toward Marvel’s
tent. “Thank you, Miss Newton. I’ll take it from here.” Ella couldn’t help
notice how attentive Marvel always seemed toward Rowan.
Or was she this way with every man?

Rowan stopped
Ella with a hand on her arm. “You two go on,” he said to Marvel. “We’ll be
along in a minute.”

Marvel tucked
Julia’s arm under hers and began to lead her down the path toward her
tent.
 
“Now, Lady Digby, not to
worry,” she said.
 
“Mr. Spenser has
some housekeeping to do in Ella’s tent and he’s just run off to get what he
needs to do that so we’ll have tea in my tent. Will that be alright?”

           
Julia
looked over her shoulder at Ella as she was led away as if to ask:
who is this person?
 

           
Rowan
turned to Ella. “Why is Abdullah in our tent?”

Ella could see he
was starting to work himself up over it and all of a sudden she wasn’t feeling
very perky. The thought of a long explanation felt suddenly more wearing than
the actual conversation.

           
“Look,
Rowan,” she said with a heavy sigh, “I just haven’t had the chance to tell you
the whole story, is all,” she said. “After you lit out last night to rescue
poor frail Miss Newton, I got a visitor.”

           
“Abdullah?”
Rowan raked a hand through his hair, his eyes darting from Ella’s face to the
tent opening as if envisioning the scene with his pregnant wife being attacked
in the night by the giant Arab.

           
“No,
Ra
came in with this big-ass knife
and
lunged
at me.”

           
“I’ll
kill him.”

           
“Well,
you might not need to. Anyway, Abdullah must have been lurking about because he
came in and the two fought.”

           
“And
Ra killed him?”

           
Ella
nodded.
 

           
“But
then why—”

           
“I
was able to get away while they were fighting. Abdulla broke Ra’s arm and after
Ra killed him, he ran away.”

           
Rowan
was silent for a moment. “So Abdullah tried to save you.”

           
“He
did
save me, Rowan. If it hadn’t been
for him, I wouldn’t be here.” She touched her stomach. “
We
wouldn’t be here. And speaking of that, you know, I don’t feel
so good at the moment. If you think you could either find me a place to lie
down or move Abdullah’s body, I really think I’m about three hours from my
worst nightmare coming true.”

           
Rowan
ran his fingers down her arm and took her hand. “You think you’re in labor?” He
led her to a camp chair by the opening of the tent.

           
“I
don’t know for sure,” she said, wincing, as she eased herself into the chair, “having
never been in labor before, but I’m willing to bet if labor is one of the top
five most miserable things you can feel in your life then I’m easily inching my
way into the ballpark.”

*
                                 
*
                                 
*
                                 
*

           
Twenty
minutes later, Ella was lying on a clean camp bed in Josh Spenser’s tent with
Rowan sitting on a chair beside her.

           
“I
can’t believe this is happening,” she said to him as she stared up at the tent
ceiling, the sheets surrounding her were bunched in her fists. “I can’t believe
I’m not going to make it to an effing hospital. Even a damn
field
hospital would be better than a
tent!”

           
“It’s
gonna be fine, Ella. Trust me. I’ve delivered a few babies before.”

           
“I
want a hospital!” Ella wailed. “I want drugs and ice chips!”

           
Julia
slipped into the tent and tugged on Rowan’s sleeve. “I can help. I’ve done this
before.”

           
“You
have not,” Ella snapped. “She’s lying, Rowan. I’m not a
horse
, Julia. You’ve never done this with a
human being
.”

           
“I
did so. I helped deliver Waddi’s baby at the camp not two weeks ago.”

           
“You
mean you watched Gita do it,” Ella panted.

           
“Well,
she let me bring in the water.”

           
“I’m
going to die.”

           
“I
know I can be of assistance, Mr. Pierce.”

           
“I’m
sure you can, darlin’,” Rowan said. “For starters, you can tell Spenser to get
the cook fire going—”

           
“Oh,
Jesus, Rowan if you start talking about ripping my petticoat into strips I’m
going to seriously lose confidence in you.”

           
“You
just focus on yourself and Tater,” Rowan said, squeezing her hand. “We may have
to do this first one without drugs, but I know you can do it.”

           
“Do
I have a damn choice?!”

           
“No,
but you have free rein to cuss as much as you want.”

           
“Shit,
Rowan, I do that when I’m
not
giving
birth.”

           
“That
is true,” Julia said. “She definitely does. I have to say I still can’t believe
you’re real, Mr. Pierce. I was convinced Ella made you up.”

           
“I’m
real, darlin,’” Rowan said. “But I am going to need lots of clean sheets. As
many as you can find. Ask Miss Newton. She’s a genius at finding anything.”

           
“Jolly
good,” Julia said. “You’re doing marvelously, Ella. Really smashing job so
far.”