The Trojan Icon (Ethan Gage Adventures Book 8) (18 page)

“I worship the light.”

“Don’t be sure the light is all that different from the dark. All men are dual, good and evil, high and low. Come, sit beside me on the platform here and tell me of your journey. I’m a lonely man, despite my servants. I enjoy hearing about the world.”

With no weapons and nothing to bargain with, I had little choice but to comply. The unspoken assumption was that I was negotiating for the life of my son. Caleb and Dolgoruki had made me their decoy, and made my son a piece of bait. But while buying time for our desperate scheme I’d also try to learn if this precious palladium even existed. So I sat on the edge of the platform with my feet on the carpeted floor, a careful four feet from the reclining ogre.

“I’m a student of the past seeking antiquities of rare power,” I began. “I come from Egypt where knowledge began, and have studied in a dozen great libraries. My goal is to obtain wisdom.”

“You mean power,” Dalca said.

“Wisdom is power.”

“Nonsense, sorceress. A man can be stuffed with knowledge and be both a fool and a weakling. Science is powerful, but no individual can own it. Scientific discoveries are shared, or stolen, or copied. Bah! What use is knowledge that anyone can know? I seek
objects
of power, and their magic. The ancients knew how to call on the underworld in ways we’ve forgotten. I don’t pretend that I only want to learn. I want to control. To dominate. To rule. Any sensible man is selfish.”

“No parent would say that.”

“Children are the most selfish of all, making their parents into slaves. Look at you, required to come here and submit to me.”

I wouldn’t dignify his absurdity with argument. “Children give us immortality,” I said instead. “They carry on what we give them.”

“I want
real
immortality, not brats as my surrogate. Sons disappoint. Longevity is a triumph.”

“You’ve defeated death?”

“I’ve lived a very long time. Do you know I was once a great warrior? No, you don’t believe, I can see it in your eyes. No matter. I persist, and my wisdom is that while all people desire, few obtain. Frustration is the fundamental condition of mankind. So I refuse to be human; I strive to be superhuman. I don’t merely yearn. I possess. I feast. I live.”

What strange image did he have of his own bag of a body? What triumph did he think he’d achieved in this wormhole? What satisfaction did he live for? But I saw opportunity. “Then we can work together. Find together. Treasure hunt together.” I’d rehearsed this bargain to buy time.

The greed of his grin was ghastly. “Offer me something I don’t have.”

Here I had to invent. “There’s an elixir of eternal youth held by the defiant Maharaja Yashwant Rao Holkar of Indore.” I’d read in the newspapers about this Indian prince who doggedly resisted the British. “A sip makes you a god. That’s what our fellowship is after, my duke, eternal youth. But Yashwant has an army of a hundred thousand men. We can’t take his potion from him. We need something to tempt him to share it, and something to allay his greatest fear.”

“Which is?”

“Defeat and subjugation by the English. All India is falling under their control. Another war is sure to come. But my family heard of an ancient artifact, a wooden statue of Athena, that makes a nation unconquerable. Yashwant would desire such a relic. He’s fascinated by Greek myths. If we could locate this statue we could be partners.” I tried to watch Dalca’s eyes, to see if they’d give away his secret of possession, but I couldn’t even see the orbs. It was as if someone had driven fingers into the dough of his face.

“You want to trade this statue away?”

“For an elixir of youth. The Trojan Palladium is an old icon, all but forgotten, possibly impotent. Men assume it lost. But it’s said that the pagan world lives on in Balbec. Rumor says you may possess it, and together we could tempt this Moghul prince. Antique rubbish from your cellar exchanged for the vigor of a twenty-year-old.”

“You mean the ancient image that protected Troy. Older than the Egyptian pyramids. Fallen from the sky. Wood that never decays.”

“So you do have it. Fate has indeed brought us together.”

“This palladium is what brought you to the Carpathians?”

“We’d make the dangerous journey to India for you.”

Dalca laughed without mirth, and his thick lips parted to reveal pointed teeth, so sharp that I suspected they’d ben filed. It was a guffaw without joy, and an expression of slyness deteriorating into madness. “How bold you are! I’m to give you a relic of impregnable power and send you thousands of miles away to pursue another rumor? Surrender invulnerability? Give up what has controlled the fate of the world?” He shook his head. “It would be absurd even if it was possible. But it isn’t. You offer what I don’t need in return for what I don’t have.”

“You don’t have the palladium?” My heart sank. All this risk for nothing.

“I know the legend, and I know where the statue might be—in a palace a hundred times as impregnable as this one. And I don’t believe in your elixir, priestess. Eternal youth? Alchemists sought immortality from the philosopher’s stone. Ponce de Leon sought the fountain of youth. Faust bargained with the devil. Cagliostro and the Comte St. Germain boasted they lived for centuries. Religious prophets promise eternity in the afterlife. It’s all a rainbow. What paradise won’t become tedious after a thousand years, let alone a trillion? What hellish torture won’t become boring as it extends to forever? Endings are what makes existence meaningful.”

So he wasn’t tempted. “You accept death.”

Dalca shook his massive, shaggy head. “I fear it with all my heart. I dare not join it, for dread of my soul. So I don’t embrace eternity, sorceress, I endure it, outliving everyone and everything I cherish. Except for my immortal companions.”

“Your female banquet guests.”

“My harem.” His tongue protruded for an instant, brushing his lips. “Are you curious, Astiza of Alexandria? The Egyptians prepared for the eternal journey. Greek heroes sought elevation to the ranks of the gods. Jesus was resurrected. Mohammed ascended into heaven. You can’t have the palladium, and you can’t have Indian elixirs, but you can have my own formula for eternal preservation.”

My task was only to buy time. “You’ve used this secret on yourself?”

“How old do you think I am?”

“Old enough to be rooted to that settee.”

“Old enough to learn what can be done and not done. Old enough for genius the outside world is not yet ready for. Come!” He pointed to the man chained to Horus. “Decebal, bring the boy, too.”

He clapped his hands, servants rose from the shadows, and the couch became a litter. Dalca’s slaves carried it to a doorway where a ramp curved deeper into the earth, torches flaring on the walls. The duke went first with a coterie of guards, then Horus and his warden, and then I followed with more guards behind, snickering at me as they waddled and leered. Sulfur scented the air. This place was already hell, I suspected, hell on earth, and the last thing a guest would want is to stay here forever.

Its bloated overseer disappeared into a wider chamber ahead and stopped. Wicks were lit. Horus entered and gave a cry and whimper. And then I stepped inside, to survey a macabre scene lit by a table of candles.

“I’ve reserved a seat for you,” Dalca said.

Two-dozen young women with waxen skin sat around a long banquet table set with plates of gold and tableware of tarnished silver. All were erect, hands artfully placed near a crystal goblet as if dining. Heaped in the middle was wax fruit and meat. The women spoke not a word, every mouth set in a warped imitation of a laugh, molded from a grimace of final horror. They saw nothing because their eyes were milky agates. Cobwebs draped from cheek and elbow. Dust was on their shoulders and brittle hair.

They were the opposite of what Dalca promised.

“What a gift I can give you, Astiza!” the mad duke exclaimed. “Instead of the certainty of rot, the eternity of preservation. I’ve far surpassed the priests of Egypt with my taxidermy and wax. Here sit the most beautiful Romanian women I could lure, promising them eternal youth as you’ve promised me, and here they enjoy each other’s company for all time. There’s no need for your elixir. Look how they chortle! Look how full their breasts remain, how blushed their cheeks, how delicate their painted nails. A special bath of my own formulation will allow you to join them, while your son joins me. I know I seem a solemn man, a dour duke, a reclusive tyrant, but here I sing and joke with my ladies as we share an endless last supper. Like these others, you’ll give your essence to me and we’ll both keep living in very different ways.” Now his look was one of raw hunger, monstrous and insatiable.

Upyr
was the Tartar word that Czartoryski had given Ethan. Evil spirits. Witches, warlocks, and vampires.

The women’s skin was curiously preserved like veined marble. Their gaiety was a failed façade, gums receding from yellowed teeth, clothes rotting, and makeup thick in a vain effort to give them color. They were mummies without wrapping. “My essence?”

“Your life-force. Your blood. I’ll take it in return for your immortal preservation and adoption of your boy into our fraternity. You’ll become my twenty-fifth wife. I’ll drink you dry, and maybe then I’ll whisper the real secret of the palladium into your preserved ear.” He laughed, jowls and belly shaking, as his servants grinned in a scene from an asylum. Reason had fled this castle long ago. “After my soldiers have had you first, of course.”

No one would ever hear my screams.

“Don’t hope for rescue. Your husband and his foolish friends have been watched for hours, and the bear’s jaws just snapped shut on them. Ethan Gage will see you after your chemical bath, I think. I’ll let him kiss your eternal corpse before I put him out of his misery. It will be touching, yes?”

“You’re insane.”

“I’m a creator.”

As I’d warned my son I pretended to faint, drawing everyone’s attention to my collapse on the floor.

Horus bit the man who chained him, the one named Decebal.

The warden howled. The collar came free.

CHAPTER 22

B
albec Castle perched atop a rock tower, sheer cliffs descending to a canyon on all sides. Its gate was connected to the ridge road by a spindly drawbridge. The only other possible approach was to descend to the canyon bottom, swim a mountain torrent, and climb the other side. There’s no trail. We picked our way down into the chasm on icy rocks, clinging where we could to saplings and tree roots. Caleb, Dolgoruki, and I each fell several times, bouncing and skidding until a tree or rock stopped our fall. By the time we reached the floor of the ravine and crossed its icy river, it was dark. We were shaking from wet, cold, exertion, and the dispiriting drag of fear.

“You’re certain there’s a tunnel entrance somewhere up that cliff?” I asked for the hundredth time. We could see little except that frost rimed the ledges and overhangs challenged every feasible route.

“So I was told after a mixture of threats and bribes to the village smith,” Caleb said. “He could have been lying, but then I’d kill him.”

I studied the sheer face. “On the contrary, I think he was fairly certain we’d plunge to our deaths. He could tell you whatever you wanted to hear.”

“Most fortresses have some kind of sally port and escape gate,” Dolgoruki insisted. “Look. There’s a dark hole up there. And there.”

“Or shadows. Or discolored rock. You’re both mad.” Even as I said so there was a rumble of warning thunder from a cap of cloud.

“Madness is opportunity,” Dolgoruki said impatiently. “It’s not whether this is the best plan, Gage, it’s the only plan. It’s as difficult to go backward as forward and your family awaits rescue.”

I despised the man but I respect bitter logic. “Well said.”

The prince swung his arm to the cliff face. “After you.”

We started up. It didn’t help that we each had a shouldered gun, Dolgoruki a sword, Caleb a coiled rope, and me the medieval horse pick. There was nothing to tie the rope to so we climbed without its aid, each of us taking a turn leading. We were climbing blind, unable to see the castle, a best route, or any enemies. I waited for a shot, arrow, hurled spear, or dropped stone, but none came. Had Astiza succeeded in preoccupying Dalca? We’d timed our attempt before moonrise, and climbed in a cocoon of darkness.

The plan forced upon me by my two conspirators was to make Astiza our Trojan horse. Her job was first to get through the gate, distract the wicked duke, and with Harry’s help somehow find this rumored back tunnel and lead us to the castle’s core. We’d seize Dalca as a hostage, grab the palladium, and bluster our way out by using the duke as our shield. I calculated there were only half a hundred things that could go wrong with this scheme, but my son had been sold as bait, my wife had been sent as trophy, and I still needed the scoundrels I was partnered with. Only the very real chance of falling a thousand feet kept my resentment at bay. Fear is wonderfully distracting.

The rock was rough and fissured, and in a couple hours we made slow but commendable progress. Yet finally we came to what appeared to be an insurmountable pitch. The cliff blistered, its face angling outward like a sloped ceiling. There was a small ledge beneath where we paused to reconnoiter, but when we crept left or right we couldn’t find a way around the overhang. We were stuck.

“This wasn’t obvious from the bottom,” Dolgoruki said. “No wonder they don’t post sentries.”

“Yes, how lucky,” I said sourly.

“We can retreat and search for a different seam,” Caleb said.

“That could mean all the way down to the river,” the Russian calculated.

“We’ve already gained a thousand feet,” I said. “Now you want to go back?”

“Not back,” Caleb said. “Around.”

“That will take hours.”

“It will take a day if we have to go all the way to the bottom,” Dolgoruki warned, “because the moon will rise and reveal us.”

“You didn’t consider this possibility before sending my wife and son into the lair of a reputed monster?”

The other two were silent.

“Give me the rope.”

“Ethan, it’s impossible.”

“It’s impossible not to try. Give me the rope. If I make it, I’ll tie it off and you can pull yourselves over the overhang. If I don’t, my death will relieve me of the regret of ever having met either of you.”

“Your grumpiness is unfair,” Dolgoruki said. “We’re just as determined.”

“Except for Caleb’s preference for going backward.”

“I’m only thinking aloud, little brother. I salute your courage.”

“Hold the salute and take my rifle. I’ll haul the firearms up with the rope before you follow.” I paused. “When you’re clinging to the line for dear life, hauling yourself over the bulge, nothing but air beneath you for a thousand feet, pray that I don’t take it into my head to let go as payback.”

That silenced them.

I put the horse pick shaft in my teeth and flexed my fingers. At least there were cracks in the sloping overhang in which to jam my hands. I reached up, seized one, and stepped up off the ledge, my toes still finding purchase. The other hand advanced and clutched. I climbed a few feet until my head was pressed sideways against the rock, my body tilted outward, my torso trembling from the strain.

“Ethan, by the holy Mother …”

I released my lower hand, groped upward, and slapped rock blindly, feeling for a hold. There, a ledge an inch wide! I seized it with my fingertips and my feet lost their grip. My legs swung out into empty space, the river a gray line far below. I gasped. My other hand fell away so I was dangling by one arm.

“Gage!”

Lightning flickered, dazzling my vision. The boom shook but it illuminated another fissure in the rock.

I seized the pick from my jaws with my free hand and swung upward at the crevice. The point penetrated and stuck. For a moment I simply hung, swaying like a pendulum as my muscles squirmed. Then I leaned my head out, sucked air, and pulled with all my might, chinning myself upward. Now my belly was against the pregnant rock, giving me slight friction. I shifted some of my weight onto the hammer of the pick. My fingers were screaming, arms throbbing, I let go my free hand and slapped again.

Another handhold! I rammed my fingers in so tight that my knuckles bled, but for the first time I had the leverage I needed. I kicked, pumped, and squirmed, my knee against the bulge. I wrenched out the pick, swung it hard into a new crevice, clawed, and suddenly I was past the overhang and atop its inward slope, charging like a spider. My bleeding palms found a flat spot and I hauled myself onto it and collapsed, shuddering with relief. So my medieval tomahawk was proving useful! I twisted my head around to see where I was and grunted with satisfaction.

I’d climbed to the mouth of a cave.

Rusty eyebolts showed where a chain or rope might once have hung into the chasm below. Could Astiza and Harry really be near? I turned back toward my companions.

“Ethan?” The quiet call came from below.

“Let me tie off.”

The cave opening was just roughly my height, the roof slanting down as its throat penetrated the castle mountain. Protuberances of rock provided a kind of fence on its sides. More extrusions jutted from the lip of the cave roof. Not trusting the old iron rings, I tied the rope around a lower rocky fang and let it fall to Caleb and Dolgoruki.

“Got it,” they hissed.

First I hauled up our guns. Then the two conspirators climbed after and collapsed with me at the entrance.

“You didn’t cut the line,” my brother said.

“I thought the weight of your lies might break it.”

We recovered breath, looking out at the dark basin of mountains that surrounded Balbec Castle. The strange, cold, rainless lightning storm continued to rumble. A lurid flash briefly lit us.

“
Dalca
means ‘lightning’,” Dolgoruki said.

“Now you tell us.”

The cave safely sheltered us from watchers above. I examined the rock protrusions and felt their sculpted smoothness. “These aren’t natural,” I said. “They’re carved.”

Dolgoruki inspected them. “Like teeth. Pointed teeth. Animal teeth.”

Caleb leaned out, studying the cliff above, and then pulled himself in. “Bear teeth. Our cave, gentlemen, has been shaped into the mouth of a bear.”

The Russian grimaced. “I ran from the wolf and encountered the bear. It’s an old proverb.”

“Meant to swallow?” I wondered.

“Meant to frighten,” Caleb said. “Like that damned howling from the castle. This Dalca warlord tries to scare everyone away.”

“Maybe he’s all bluff.” But I doubted it.

I used a tinderbox to light a candle, took my rifle, and led the way. We bent as we penetrated the bear’s throat, the cave ceiling lowering until we were bent almost double.

“Defenders could pick off attackers one by one,” Dolgoruki said. “Be ready for ambush.”

“It’s worse than that.” I saw a dreaded pattern ahead. “Iron bars.” I crawled forward to inspect. A grill blocked the passage. “Did your informant mention this?”

“I believe he didn’t,” Caleb replied. “Again why they post no guards.”

We inspected the barrier. The grill was a door with a heavy lock. I grasped the barrier and shook. The bars were set solid.

“We have to retreat,” the Russian mourned.

“They hell we will.”

Then there was a snap and sharp squeal.

With a resounding crash, a second iron gate fell from a fissure in the cave ceiling behind us and slammed into the floor.

We’d climbed our way into a cage.