Indiana Jones and the Peril at Delphi, page 18
"You go on, Alex. I'm going to lie here awhile and rest."
"You sure?"
Just then she heard a wheezing noise.
"What was that?" Mandraki said. He stood up, and shoved the stall door open.
The straw and dust tickled the inside of Indy's nostrils. His nose twitched; he held his breath. He tried his best to hold off the sneeze that was building up. Mandraki was only a few feet away, and would surely hear him. In spite of himself, his head jerked spasmodically and he let out a choking, muffled sneeze.
"Damn it," he hissed under his breath. The door of the next stall creaked open. Indy waited, frozen in place. A hand slid into his field of vision; it patted the nose of the
horse above him. If Mandraki opened the gate, he'd see him. No doubt about it.
"What's wrong, boy, got a cold?" Thank God. He thought it was the horse. "You don't look so good," Mandraki backed out of the stall, and moved on.
Indy's relief was short-lived; almost immediately, another sneeze started to build. Hurry, get out of here, he silently told Mandraki as the colonel saddled a horse in another stall. Finally, after one of the longest minutes in his life, Indy heard Mandraki leading the horse out of the stall.
"Are you sure you're okay?" the colonel asked Dorian. "Yes. I'll be coining along in a few minutes." As soon as Mandraki galloped off, Indy let out a loud sneeze that ended in a hoot. It felt so good he smiled. But a moment later the smile faded. "Who is there?"
The danger of Mandraki had been so great that he'd forgotten about Dorian. "No one."
"Jones! Is that you?"
As he stood up, he touched his belt and wished the guards hadn't taken his whip. Dorian definitely was someone to approach with caution. He opened her stall and stared at her; he felt as if he were watching a poisonous spider. She was lying on her side, propping her head up with an elbow. He didn't see any weapons on her, but he wasn't about to let down his guard, either.
She sat up, threaded her hand through her hair. Bits of straw fell over her shoulders. "Come in here," she said in a low, throaty voice. A few days ago, that same voice had been seductive. Now it was viperous.
He didn't move, didn't say a word. Her eyes beckoned him.
"Did you hear what I told the king when we were in the vapors?" she asked.
"I heard the translation."
"What did I say?" She opened her dark eyes and stared intently at him.
He wasn't sure whether she actually didn't know or was simply testing him. He repeated what Panos had said to the king.
"I warned him of a threat against his life," Dorian said. "You see, I defied Alex."
"Did you?"
"I saved the king's life, Indy. You were going to kill him."
"That was what your boyfriend wanted me to do," Indy countered. "Now he wants to kill me, and my friends."
"I can help you."
He shook his head. "I don't trust you, Dorian. I know too much about you."
Her dark eyes seemed to burrow inside him. "What are you talking about?"
"Your old boyfriend, Farnsworth. You killed him, and his brother. And who knows how many more."
"I did not."
"I'm going." He backed out of the stall, and moved to the adjoining one. But as he saddled the horse, Dorian blocked the doorway.
"I haven't always done the right thing, Indy," she said in a soft voice. "I've let Alex manipulate me. But that's over. I swear. I can help you get your friends away from him. I'll prove to you that I'm not what you think."
"Thanks, but I'll work on it myself."
"If you go to the hotel, you will be killed." She said it matter-of-factly. "That is exactly what Alex expects you to do. He won't kill them until he has you. They are his bait. If you want to live, hide until morning. I'll bring your friends to the temple at eight-thirty."
He thought about it. She was probably right about the hotel. He had little chance of getting Shannon and Conrad away from Mandraki without at least one of them getting killed. "Make it earlier."
"No. Eight-thirty. Be on time. No later."
Indy knew from the schedule in Dorian's locker that the vapors would rise at 8:38. What the hell did she have in mind now? But then what choices did he have?
It came down to this: Dorian was the least trustworthy person he knew, but at the moment her help seemed his only option.
"I'll be there."
20
New Rising
Fog covered the ruins like piles of freshly cut wool. Panos could see only a vague outline of the thatched hut where he had spent the night, and turned away from it in disgust. Despite the fog, he was confident that Belecamus—Pythia—would be here within minutes. She would be drawn to the vapors just as the rich and powerful would soon be attracted to Delphi like ants swarming over spilt honey. Soon, Delphi would flourish in a renaissance of the ancient ways. The Oracle's coffers would weigh heavy, and a new temple would be built on the ruins of the old. There would be no place for thatched huts at Delphi. He would make sure of that.
The hut had been Doumas's way of connecting the past with the present, but it had been a feeble link in comparison to the potent strength of the Return. But Doumas had been a contradiction. He had ponderously sought to understand the Order of Pythia in the same way that he had studied old crumbling buildings. Although he was never actually inducted into the Order, he had become privy to many of its secrets. But in the end he must have been jealous of the power the oracle priest would amass. He'd foolishly tried to change the tide of history and erase the inevitable return of Pythia.
No, that wasn't quite right, Panos realized. Doumas had wanted the power himself. That was why he had attacked him, instead of Pythia. But of course he was unsuccessful, and his life had abruptly ended in failure. Thanks to Grigoris, Panos had escaped a similar end.
In the two hours since he'd gotten up, Panos had eaten nothing, and he would continue fasting until after the rising. This morning he would ask Pythia how the king would respond to what had happened yesterday, and how long it would take before her power was widely recognized. The more specifics he knew, the better he could plan.
He'd spent more than an hour this morning seated on the dirt floor of the hut figuring out how long the spans between risings would be in a week, a month, a year, and longer. At first, he had been worried about how rapidly the span between risings was increasing. Soon there would be only one rising a day, then one every two days. But he realized that as the quiet periods became longer, the speed of change slowed down. By the time there was a week between risings, it would take ten weeks before the quiet time expanded by another hour, and two hundred forty weeks or almost five years before the breaks would increase to eight days. After that, the increases would be even slower. Decades would pass before the breaks were two weeks long.
He heard footsteps approaching from behind the hut. She was here. He knew it. But then Grigoris emerged from the fog. "What are you doing here? I told you to stay away this morning."
"They are coming, Father. I saw Pythia leave the hotel."
"I knew she would," Panos snapped, then forced a smile. "Thanks for telling me." He had a hard time staying angry with Grigoris, especially so soon after his son had saved him from tumbling into the crevice. Grigoris always tried to do what he thought was right, just as Panos had taught him. But he'd also taught him to obey his commands, and that lesson was the one Grigoris had the most difficulty following.
"But I thought you would want to know that she is not alone."
Indy had slept in what he had hoped would be the least likely place that Mandraki would look for him. The fact that he was still alive told him that the cave above the ruins had been a good choice.
Now, he slowly worked his way along the ledge. He couldn't even see his feet through the fog. It was much thicker than yesterday, making the walk particularly treacherous. One step in the wrong place and he would plunge down the mountainside. The walk was nothing less than a metaphor of what his life had become. One wrong move and he was dead.
As he carefully worked his way around the boulders, he thought back to those first days here when he had spent hours waiting and watching as he timed the risings of the vapors. He'd been terribly bored and restless. Now he was neither. The struggle for survival had honed his senses, making him keenly aware and interested in what was going on around him.
Finally, he reached the end of the ledge and moved along the path. By quarter after eight he was still on the mountainside a couple of hundred feet above the ruins. But when he gazed down at ancient Delphi all he saw was a harsh white haze that looked like a fresh blanket of snow.
He climbed down the rest of the way, not bothering to hide; he was already hidden, but so was everyone else, if indeed there was anyone. He stopped as he reached the Sacred Way and peered through the fog. He couldn't see
more than ten feet in front of him. He moved forward, looking from side to side with each step.
Then he heard voices. He listened. Yes, voices like the distant gurgling of water. He couldn't tell which direction they were coming from, or how far away they were. He moved ahead again, stopping every few feet to listen. Had he imagined the voices? Maybe they were the collective babble of all the Pythias drawn back to wander in the fog looking for their sacred Delphi, or to greet the new Pythia. Then again, maybe he hadn't heard anything at all.
Suddenly, the pillars at the entrance of the temple loomed in front of him. He pulled out his watch. It was 8:33. The vapors would rise in five minutes. He looked around, wondering what to do.
"Jones, where are you?" It was Dorian's voice and it echoed through the temple. So she was here.
He peered past the tilting columns toward the crevice. "Right here," he shouted.
"Come up here. Right now," Dorian commanded. "I have your friends."
He hesitated.
"Quickly. I've kept my side of the bargain."
He walked into the temple, and approached the mound. "How do I know?"
"Tell him," Dorian said.
"We're here with her. No one else," Shannon said. But Indy thought he detected a sharp edge to his voice.
"Get up here, Jones."
He stopped at the bottom of the mound. "Why up there?"
"The vapors, of course. I want you here to see what happens."
He was halfway- up the mound before he saw three silhouettes shrouded in mist. "What's the point?"
"You'll see."
He kept climbing, and now he could make out more
details. Shannon and Conrad stood to one side of Dorian. Neither was handcuffed. Why hadn't they tried to get away? Then he saw the reason. Dorian raised a revolver, and aimed it at him.
"Sorry, Indy," Shannon said. "She was holding it on my head."
He heard a sound behind him, and realized what he had feared all along; it was a trap.
Panos didn't like the fact that the two outsiders were with her, or that Jones was climbing the mound to join them. She must have known they were dangerous, though; that was why she was armed. But why had she brought them here, why now?
He climbed the mound, Grigoris at his side, knowing there was nothing he could do about them right now. They were here; so be it. But in a matter of seconds Belecamus would catapult into trance, and then he would take charge.
The moment he accepted the outsiders, their presence suddenly made surprising sense. He knew why they were here, and what Pythia would tell them. He was in tune with her. He knew her words even before they were spoken. That was the way of the oracle priest.
Jones looked startled when he saw them, but he sounded almost relieved. "You guys! Dorian, what are they doing here?"
"What do you think? The vapors are rising," Pythia responded.
It was time, and Pythia dropped down onto one knee. It was impossible to distinguish fog from vapors, but Pythia inhaled deeply. Her head was bent low, and her hair had fallen over her face. Then the haze thickened and she was no longer visible.
Panos waded into the vapors, Grigoris at his heels. Pythia stood up, rocked from side to side. He looked at her hands and saw that she no longer held the gun. Her head
lolled forward, then she raised it up. Her eyes, which had bulged when the king stood here, were now mere slits. There was something different about her. It was as if she were concealing something. She looked at him, then cocked her head, peering at the other men. Finally, her gaze settled on Jones. She smiled, an odd, crooked smile, then stepped forward and embraced him.
Jones don't return the embrace. His body was rigid. She muttered something under her breath which Panos couldn't hear. It didn't matter; he knew what she was saying.
"Pythia says you are to leave today for your homelands and tell all those you know about the return of Pythia. Many wonders will soon be taking place here, and the world must know about it."
Pythia laughed, a disturbing cackling sound, and stepped back from Jones.
"Like what?" Jones asked. "What sort of wonders?" "Guidance concerning the future. Those who know what to expect will be far stronger than those who do not."
"Nobody believes in that stuff anymore," the tall, red-haired man said.
"You are a fool if you don't believe," Grigoris said, and stepped forward as if to challenge him.
"What wonderful things does Pythia foresee?" Jones challenged as he stared intently at her. "Tell me something." "It is a great gift she offers the world, which must be used wisely," Panos said. "Not for your entertainment." Pythia giggled again, and grinned. Jones looked doubtful, and Panos was about to admonish him when he heard a voice from outside the vapors. "Dorian, where are you?"
It was Mandraki. "Ignore him," Panos said.
"It's a trick," said one of the outsiders.
"I'll take care of it," Grigoris said.
"Wait!" Panos shouted, but Grigoris ignored him.
An instant later, Panos heard the report of a gun, and a cry from his son. "No! No!" He rushed from the vapors; Grigoris was lying on his face halfway down the mound.
Panos stumbled down the slope, and dropped to his knees by Grigoris's side. His son's head was tilted in an odd way. He turned him over. His face was a shattered mass of blood, chips of bone, and brain.
Panos jerked his head back in horror. "You. . . you!"
He stared into the icy eyes of Colonel Mandraki, who stood at the bottom of the mound amid the clearing fog, a rifle in his hand and an ammunition belt strapped from shoulder to waist.
"You killed my son."
A shell clicked into the firing chamber. "Malaka," Mandraki cursed, and aimed at Panos's head.
He pulled the trigger.
At the sound of the first shot, Indy ducked to the ground. Conrad and Shannon did the same. But Dorian remained standing.
Why hadn't they run from the mound while they had a chance? Dorian's gun had disappeared from her hand, and she was cackling like an old witch. What the hell was this effect the vapors had on her? But they'd stood there and watched and listened to Panos's prattle, and now Mandraki was here.
Another gunshot exploded. Christ. What was going on out there? Indy didn't really want to know. He wanted to be as far from here as possible. But now they were trapped between Mandraki and the crevice. Either direction was certain death.
"Dorian, come out of there," Mandraki bellowed.
Shannon was at his side. "We've had it, Indy. Soon as the vapors are gone, it's over."
"Dorian," Mandraki called again.
Their only other option was to walk around the crevice
and drop into the gully, but that was no good either. They'd be trapped, as good as dead.
Dorian took a step forward. The vapors were starting to thin, and Indy could vaguely make out Mandraki's form.
"Dorian, where are you?" Mandraki demanded. "Do you have all three of them?"
She remained silent. Was she still Pythia, or somewhere in between? Then Indy saw her pull the revolver from the folds of a cloth belt. She raised the muzzle to her head. God, she was going to kill herself. "Alex," she shouted. "Watch out!"
Then she lowered the gun, aimed, and fired.
Mandraki took a faltering step back. His rifle clattered to the ground. He rocked on his heels, clutching his chest. Then he crumpled over, joining the carnage.
21
Parisian Pals
"I killed him in self-defense," she said quietly. "He was going to kill all of us."
Indy stared at the bodies sprawled across the mound. "Why would he want to kill you?"
"Plenty of reasons. Jealousy mainly. Panos told him about us. But he was angry that the king got away and he blamed me."
He watched her closely. There was no sign of any trance-induced aberrations in her features. She was calm, and actually looked relieved after killing her long-standing lover. The gun dangled loosely in her hand. He hoped she was going to drop it, because he was going to pounce on it when she did.
His eyes slid to Shannon and Conrad who were standing to one side of him. They were as nervous now as when he'd arrived.
Dorian sensed their unease. "Don't look at me like I'm some kind of madwoman. You're all alive because of me."
"What are you going to do now?" Conrad asked, taking a step closer to her.
She smiled amiably. "I know exactly what I'm going to do, and you three are going to help me."
Conrad moved another pace closer, and held out his
hand. "That's good, Dorian. I'll take the gun. You don't need it anymore."
Her body tensed and she pointed the revolver at Conrad. "Don't patronize me, Professor. I know what I'm doing. Sit down, all three of you. I'm going to give you a little history lesson about Delphi. You like history, don't you, Professor?"
She grinned at him, and for an instant Indy recognized the expression he'd seen on her face when she was Pythia. He wondered about that, and sat down with the others as she'd ordered.
"In ancient times, Delphi was like a magnet that drew people from around the Mediterranean," she began.
