Return to Dark Earth (26 page)

Primitive, but effective. And they knew the
terrain.

Their little band was following the cliff
face. The mutant dogs trotted along beside them, deceptively calm,
tongues lolling. But any time they looked at one of Nera’s group,
they growled.

She pulled in a breath. They just had to be
patient and wait for an opportunity. And if anyone tried to hurt
Niklas…well, they’d soon realize that was a mistake.

Ahead, two more warriors appeared out of the
vegetation, calling out to the others in their strange language.
They, too, had black tattoos covering their bare chests. They were
talking quickly and gesturing.

One of their captors prodded Nera and she
moved on. They passed fences of sharpened spears pointed toward the
jungle. On one, she saw the decaying remains of zombies. Ahead, she
saw a huge cave entrance in the rocks, with more sentries flanking
it.

They passed inside. Nera watched Niklas
looking around with interest, and she shook her head. The man just
absorbed everything and loved learning. The tunnel was wide and
well-used, the dirt floor compacted down.

Soon, they came to a junction, three tunnels
spearing off, each in a different direction. Their captors kept
going, taking them straight ahead into the largest tunnel.

Ahead, Nera heard the echo of voices,
smelled smoke.

The tunnel opened up into a giant
cavern.

Holy stars, it was huge. She looked up and
saw different levels carved into the rock walls, and what looked
like dwellings. There were people everywhere, with the same leather
and fur clothes, and tattoos etched on their skin—arms, chests,
even their faces. There were men, women and children. Nera tried
not to stare. Some of the children had terrible deformities. Large,
tumor-like growths on their faces. A few with eyes missing. One
child looked at them, and Nera saw what appeared to be a second
mouth on her cheek.

They were led to a stop at the far side of
the cavern. On a huge chair carved from a twisted black tree, sat a
woman.

Nera eyed her coolly. The woman wore a short
leather skirt, with some sort of fur covering her upper body, and
she had leather gauntlets on her arms. Deadly black knives were set
into sheaths on the gauntlets. She was also beautiful and
completely free of any deformity. Her black hair fell in a rain
down her back.

She stood, her sharp gaze moving from each
one of them to the other. Nera didn’t like the look in the woman’s
eyes. She watched them like they were possessions, not people.
Suddenly she barked out some words at them.

Avril cleared her throat. “Hello, I’m Dr.
Avril Luma-Smythe. I’m the leader of this expedition—”

Everyone in the room cried out, and
mutterings broke out across the cavern. Some people gestured with
their hands, others looked like they were praying.

The leader barked out a word and silence
fell. She walked closer to them. Her gaze passed from Avril,
lingered on Niklas, then paused on Solomon. Or rather Solomon’s
blond hair. Then her gaze came to Nera.

Yep, I’m a bitch just like you.
Nera
lifted her chin.

The woman finally stopped in front of Avril.
“You…speak the language…of the ancients.”

English
. The woman could speak
English. It was halting and heavily accented, but clear.

“Yes,” Avril answered. “It’s the business
language of the galaxy.”

“Galaxy?” The woman frowned. “You come…from
the stars?”

“Yes. We are descendants of the people who
lived here on Earth but left.” Avril looked around. “Before the
fighting that destroyed the planet.”

Another woman, this one old and wrinkled
with a missing eye, moved up behind the leader. Her white hair fell
almost to her ankles. She called out in their language. The crowd
tittered and gasped.

“I take it she’s translating for the
masses,” Niklas murmured.

“No one…survived the time of destruction,”
the leader said. “Only the Rumin.” She thumped her chest. Others in
the cavern mimicked the movement.

“Rumin,” Niklas said. “That’s not familiar,
but I think their language was one that was native to this
area.”

“Some people survived by leaving the
planet.” Avril cleared her throat. “You must know there were great
cities, and great technology, before the time of destruction.”

The leader gave a nod. “But that time is
passed. Now the Rumin rule.”

“We mean you no harm. We just wanted to find
pieces of history. We were searching for a lost treasure of an
ancient culture. The Inca.”

The old woman crowed something and again the
crowd gasped and cried out.

“Uh, I don’t think that went down so well,”
Solomon muttered. One of the guards shoved him.

“The Inca gold is sacred,” the leader said.
“Our ancestors have always protected it from anyone who came to
find it. We are the children of Ruminahui. It must never fall into
the hands of those who would misuse it.”

Niklas made a small noise.

“What?” Nera murmured.

“I think they are descendants of the Incas.
Ruminahui…that’s the name of the Inca general who hid the treasure.
I think the Incas had people here to protect the treasure, right
from the beginning.”

Nera raised her brows. “That would explain
why anyone who came looking for it never made it out of the
mountains.”

He nodded. “I think maybe a group of them
lived up here, in these very caves, and that helped them survive
the nuclear devastation.”

Nera looked around, her gaze falling on a
small boy with a hunched back. “If you call this surviving.”

“You come to take something that is not
yours,” the leader said. “It falls to me as Sapa, the leader of the
Rumin, to decide your fate.”

“Not good,” Solomon muttered.

“We meant no harm or disrespect,” Avril
said, keeping her voice smooth and deferential. “If you let us go,
we’ll leave now.”

The Sapa strode back to her chair and sat.
She studied them with dark eyes devoid of mercy. “So you can return
with more of your…technology? And take with force what is not
yours?”

Not dumb, this leader. Nera tensed, seeing
the guards moving.

“Please, great Sapa.” Solomon stepped
forward, a smile on his handsome face. “We mean no harm.”

Clever man
. Nera hid a smile. Solomon
had noted the Sapa’s interest in him earlier.

The leader tilted her head. “Why should I
listen to you?”

“No reason. Just that I tell the truth.”

The Sapa’s dark gaze wandered over him. “You
are blessed by Inti. The woman, too.”

Nera realized the Sapa was talking about
her. She raised a brow.

“Your hair,” Niklas murmured. “Gold. Like
the sun.”

“You must be a prince of your people,” the
Sapa said.

Solomon stiffened. “I’m not a prince. I’m
just a treasure hunter.”

The Sapa’s face changed. “Someone who takes
what is not theirs.”

“Hang on—”

The Rumin leader waved a hand. “I am the
protector of the treasure. You are all sentenced to capacocha. That
is where your fate is decided. Anyone who survives is granted a
boon and may leave.”

Nera tensed further. Which likely meant
whatever the hell the capacocha was, they weren’t likely to survive
it. She caught Niklas’ gaze and vowed she’d get him out. Or die
trying.

“Any idea what capacocha is?” she asked.

“I’m not positive…”

“Niklas, just tell me.”

“I think it was some kind of sacrifice.”

Just great.
They were herded into
another wide tunnel. Torches attached to the walls flickered. They
kept moving and soon they heard a familiar groaning and
snarling.

Oh no.
Nera forced herself to relax.
She needed to be prepared for anything.

They rounded a corner and the tunnel
changed. It was lined by cells carved into the rock walls. Bars
made of hardened wood had been built-in, allowing them to see the
zombies packed into each cell,

Claw-tipped hands reached out through the
bars, and the zombies’ cries turned frenzied.

One of their captors thumped his spear
against the nearest cage and bit off something in their
language.

The zombie shrank back and quieted a
little.

“I really, really don’t like the look of
this,” Niklas said.

The tunnel opened into another cavern.

Nera’s stomach clenched.

This room had tiers built into it, and on
each rock ledge people were sitting and others were filing in from
other smaller tunnels. People watched, faces alight, and a sense of
excitement swept through the cavern. On a raised platform on the
far wall, the Sapa had arrived. She lounged on a pile of furs, two
people hovering beside her holding platters of food.

In the center of the room was a sunken
pit.

“A colosseum,” Niklas said.

A nearby guard snarled and jammed the back
of his spear into Niklas’ side. Niklas grunted but Nera was already
in motion.

She kicked the guard in the back, sending
him staggering. He spun, and she used her tied hands to capture the
end of his spear. She planted a boot in his belly and used the
leverage to leap into the air. She wrapped her legs around the
man’s neck, and got a quick glimpse of bulging eyes, before she
dropped her weight back. As they fell toward the floor, she used
the strength in her thighs to twist, and snap, the guard’s
neck.

They hit the dirt, but Nera was already
climbing to her feet. The poison on the spear head had eaten
through her bindings and they fell onto the dirt floor. She dusted
herself off.

Other guards surrounded her, spears and
knives pointed her way. She sank into a fighting stance. Out of the
corner of her eye, she noted Niklas close by, his big body tensed,
ready to fight.

The Sapa called out and reluctantly, the
guards lowered their weapons. The Rumin leader shot Nera an
inscrutable look. Then she waved her hand to the guards.

One guard stepped forward and dragged the
body of his dead friend away. Another, rather warily, ushered all
of them to a small area right above the pit. They were pushed to
their knees on the dirt floor.

Niklas shifted until he was pressed close to
Nera. “What do you think is going to happen?”

“Nothing good.” She eyed the energized
crowd. “These people have survived a long time doing things their
way. I don’t think they’re interested in what we have to offer, or
in letting us go.”

He nodded, his gaze brooding.

The Sapa stood and clapped her hands. Nera
stared at her. The woman was really beautiful—with a round face,
straight nose and deep, dark eyes. The old woman was standing
behind her, swaying, an eager light in her eyes. Two men joined the
leader, sitting down on nearby piles of furs. They, too, were
handsome and well-built with strong jaws and thick, dark hair.

Niklas was studying them. “I bet that’s how
they select their leaders. Those who are the least deformed, the
most physically strong and attractive.”

Nera raised a brow. “How you look has
nothing to do with how smart you are, or if you’d make a good
leader.”

“They may not believe that. They obviously
see some pretty terrible birth defects. And a lot of their babies
must not survive. To see one arrive in perfect condition…it must be
special to them.”

Guards moved out of a neighboring tunnel,
dragging a bound man between them. His head was hanging low, and
his shoulders sagged.

In the crowd, a woman stood and cried out.
She started yelling. She hugged a small girl with no arms to her
ragged skirts.

The man lifted his head, looked at the woman
and child, heartache etched on his face. Then the guard shoved him,
and he stumbled over the edge into the sunken pit, sprawling onto
his hands and knees in the dirt.

The woman started wailing and turned her
daughter’s face away from the pit, pressing it into her skirts.

A second later, Nera heard the zombie. Four
guards escorted the creature, working hard to keep it contained.
They all held long poles, with vine-rope loops attached to the end.
Each loop was around the zombie’s neck.

At the edge of the pit, they slashed the
vines confining it away and then pushed it in.

“Oh, gods,” Avril gasped.

“This must be how they punish their
lawbreakers,” Niklas said.

The man and zombie looked at each other. The
man’s face was covered in fear and resignation. The zombie’s eyes
lit with a wild hunger. It shambled forward.

The man fought. He had no weapon. No hope.
But he fought. Nera hoped the little girl in the stands remembered
that.

But soon the zombie slashed into him, blood
splattering onto the sand floor. And then the fight was over.

The zombie crouched over the man’s dead
body, biting into his belly and making horrible noises as it
feasted.

“It’s like the gladiatorial combats of very
ancient Earth.” Niklas leaned closer, his fingers brushing Nera’s.
“There are partial e-records of the Roman Empire. They forced
gladiators to fight amongst themselves. The public loved to watch
the gory spectacles.”

And apparently not much had changed over the
millennia. At the less-civilized edge of the galaxy, there were
pit-fighting worlds where fighters battled against each other to
the death. “But they didn’t make them fight monsters.”

“Not zombies, no, but they did put people in
the ring with wild animals.”

Suddenly, another man strode out of a
tunnel. He was tall and muscled, and with no sign of a deformity.
He wasn’t quite handsome, but an air of confidence radiated off
him. The crowd cheered.

He looked up at the Sapa and bowed his
head.

Then he leapt over the edge and into the
pit.

Nera leaned forward, watching intently. This
was no cowed prisoner. The man had no weapons, but he wore some
primitive armor. Scarred leather plates on his arms, legs, chest
and abdomen. This was a warrior.