A Baneful Bequest, Part 4 of 6
Previous installments: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3
The woman's pulse was very slow, and she didn't seem to notice the men standing over her, trying to rouse her. "I guess we'll just have to carry her," the other man said, scooping her up. She cuddled her head against his shoulder like a child.
They made it halfway up the ramp when a tremendous crack shattered the quiet. A rumbling followed, petering out after a few seconds.
"So much for the way out," Orion's host said, his eyes locked on the remains of the tunnel above them. The whole wall above the top of the ramp had caved in. The pile was still settling, and several stones fell into the cavern, clattering on the ramp terraces on the way.
"Look out!" his partner cried, but it was too late. Something massive plowed into Orion's host, then curled around him. Tendrils of living rock had sprouted from the wall to ensnare him, wrapping around his limbs and torso. He couldn't even move his head.
He gasped in pain, then screamed in agony as something crushed his right leg at the knee. Orion himself felt like screaming, but the pain quickly dulled to an ache. Sorry about that, the voice in his head said. There's no reason for you to feel it all.
Pain or no, he did feel the horrible sensation of crunching as whatever had hold of him shattered the bones in his leg, then tore the limb in two. The rock tightened around his leg above the knee a moment later. His sensed host was nearly paralyzed with the pain.
"Give me back my sacrifice," boomed a woman's voice from below them. "Or I'll pull your friend's limbs off one by one. I can keep him alive while I do it."
"Don't do it, Spendlove!" Orion's host gritted out.
What? Spendlove? Orion demanded of his possessor. The voice replied, That's right. Now hush, the end draws near.
"Don't worry, Jack," Spendlove whispered, winking. Louder, he continued, "Alright, you win. I'll bring her down."
Spendlove slowly carried the woman down to the cavern floor, where the leader of the ritual waited, sword in hand. The rock thing that had sprouted from the wall followed him, carrying Jack along.
The robed woman spoke in a normal voice. "Here, on the altar. Don't try anything funny." She waved her left hand, the hand not holding the sword, at them. She'd contorted it into an odd, uncomfortable pose. Her voice was western, with a northern European accent.
Spendlove half glanced back at Jack, then stepped up to the altar. He asked, "You're not from around here, so who are you? You sound Belgian."
The woman's shadowed face turned to him, but before she could answer Spendlove took a step back from the woman and fired a single shot from the pistol he'd concealed in the white robes.
Jack immediately fell to the floor, gasping, as the rock tendrils went limp and released him. The woman screamed in fury and slashed the curved sword at Spendlove, who ducked back and tripped over Orion---no, Jack, Orion thought---sprawling to the floor and cracking his head on the stone.
Orion felt Jack struggling to gather the strength to stand, to fight, as the cultist approached. His hands were numb and couldn't hold the Thompson that was resting on his chest, and he could feel his strength ebbing as his blood flowed freely from the stump of his leg, the living rock tourniquet no longer holding it in check.
The woman's left hand was a bloody ruin, but the sword was steady in her right. She ignored Jack as she raised the sword and stabbed it down at Spendlove.
Jack finally got his good leg under him and dove, desperately, trying to tackle the woman. He missed completely. Instead, he landed across Spendlove's chest, crushing his useless submachine gun between them.
The sword was ice as it passed through his back, out his chest, and stopped hard in the foregrip of the Thompson. He gasped once, and Orion gasped with him. Blood flowed from his mouth, staining Spendlove's khaki shirt, and Jack went still.
Thanks for reading. Part 5 will be up tomorrow evening.