The Word of God (5 page)

Another yell from Gwen caused Peter to glance anxiously in her direction. He was just in time to see another Devil Worshipper lunge at her with a knife. In a twinkling the man's arm had been grabbed and he was hurled on his back, the knife skittering off over the cliff. The man scrambled to his feet, avoiding Gwen as she closed to grab him again. Mixed emotions flitted across Peter's mind: concern for Gwen, replaced by wry amusement as he remembered that she was a Black Belt in Judo. He had never seen her in a fight before and was impressed.

Satisfied that Gwen and Megan needed no help Peter turned back to face the furious leader. For a moment longer Peter and Joy faced the man. Peter's eyes scanned frantically for sight of the pistol. He did not want to get involved in wrestling with the man again.

Shouts and screams again distracted Peter for a moment. He glanced over his shoulder, just in time to see one of the Devil Worshippers slashing at one of the prisoners with his knife. Red blood flowed. The Devil Worshipper raised his knife to plunge it into the prisoner's chest. Stephen was nearest. He moved with incredible speed, hurling his walking stick. The stick struck the Devil Worshipper hard in the temple. The man reeled back and clutched at his head.

“No!”

Peter wasn't sure if it was his shout, or Gwen's, or whether they both shouted. His horrified eyes registered the fact that the Devil Worshipper had slipped at the back edge of the huge boulder. Before the man had time to call again he had fallen. One instant he was there, the next he was gone.

A terrible scream rang out, to be cut off almost instantly. There were a few moments of shocked silence, then Stephen, Gwen and Graham ran across the top of the boulder to peer over the far side. As they did Peter looked quickly around. No Devil Worshippers left, he noted.

He turned back to face the leader, who still stood facing them a few paces away. The man was breathing heavily and his eyes glittered hate.

“Give up,” Peter called.

“You die first!” the leader shouted back. He spat, then screamed at the top of his voice: “You have interrupted Satan's Sacrifice! You must pay for that. Now you will die, and it will be a terrible death.”

Peter braced himself for another fight, aware that Joy was tensed beside him. The leader suddenly spun round and bolted. Before either could reach him he had run past them, across the smooth rock and out of sight.

“Let him go,” Peter said.

“I was going to,” Joy replied.

Peter looked down at her. She was breathing fast and her face was flushed. His arm went around her shoulders and he hugged her.

“Thanks. You saved my life then. Are you alright?”

“Yes,” Joy replied breathlessly. “I was nearly sick when I saw him point that gun at your head.”

At my head!
Peter felt nauseous at the thought. “Where did the gun go?” he asked.

“I kicked it into that bush,” Joy said, pointing.

Peter released her and walked over to the bush. In a moment he had
retrieved the pistol. He held it up and inspected the mechanism and magazine.
That mongrel might come back
, he thought as he checked that the pistol actually was cocked and loaded. He slipped on the safety catch and placed the gun in his basic pouch.

Joy helped Megan up and fussed over her. Peter told them to stay there on guard and walked down through the bushes onto the top of the rock. Stephen, Graham and Gwen met him beside the three prisoners.

Stephen was looking distraught. “He went over the edge!” he muttered in a stunned voice.

Peter gestured at the man lying at their feet. “It wasn't your fault Steve. You saved this bloke's life. He was going to stab him and you had no choice.”

“But he might be still alive. He only fell about ten metres. He is among the trees below this rock. I'm going to have a look,” Stephen replied. He was pale and trembling.

Peter wasn't sure if this was a good idea but Stephen was determined, and obviously very upset so he just nodded, and said, “Be careful. Where did the other Devil Worshippers go?”

Graham laughed and pointed. “That way! At a great speed. The moment they saw us they shouted ‘army' and took off along the side of the slope. Another one went up past you somewhere. Gwen bowled one over too.”

At that Graham laughed again. It was nervous release and Peter joined in. “I know. I saw it. Well done Gwen. You should have seen the look of surprise on his face.”

Gwen gave a brief smile. “What do we do now?” she asked.

Peter stood for a moment to collect his thoughts. He found he was staring down at the three prisoners who were staring back as though unable to believe their eyes. The sight of their blood-stained but naked bodies brought him back to the moment.

“Gwen, go back up with the other girls. Graham, help me unite these people,” he said.

“Don't be ridiculous!” Gwen retorted. “I'll see if I can find their clothes.”

She turned and left as Stephen vanished out of sight down the steep slope beside the rock. Graham took out his knife and bent to cut the ropes. Peter knelt beside the first man, a tall, red-complexioned man with fair hair.

The man swallowed to clear his throat. “Thank you. You arrived just in time,” he said in a carefully modulated English voice. He sat up and began to rub his wrists and ankles, his whole body shivering.

Peter crouched beside him. “Who are you? And why were they going to kill you?” he asked.

“I am Sir Miles Falworth,” the man replied.

Definitely English
, Peter decided.
And very well educated. An upper class type.
“How do you do? I am Peter Bronsky, and that cheerful ratbag is Graham Kirk,” Peter replied.

Gwen stepped down beside them. “And I am Gwen Copeland,” she said.

Peter was shocked. “Gwen! He hasn't got any clothes on,” he said, reddening with embarrassment.

Gwen shrugged. “Doesn't bother me. That's how God made us,” she replied.

“Well it might embarrass him!” Peter snapped.

Gwen knelt and smiled into Sir Miles' eyes. “I'll apologize if I do. Sorry sir, we haven't any spare water to wash your cuts. We ran out. Here are some clothes for you.” She held out a bundle of clothing.

Sir Miles managed a smile in return, although it clearly hurt him. “Thank you good lady. These are our clothes. Now, if you don't mind I will ask you to turn your back while I dress.”

Gwen did as she was asked. Peter moved to help the other two men as Graham cut them free. The others introduced themselves as Adrian Jones, from Gordonvale, and as Sir Richard de Burg.

On hearing the name Peter raise an eyebrow. “Sir Richard?” he enquired tactfully. Sir Richard was a few years older than Sir Miles and had a lined and tired face.

Sir Richard nodded. “Yes, we are knights of the Catholic Church,” he replied.

Peter was mystified, not really understanding but did not know how to ask without being bad mannered or appearing ignorant. He temporized. “Is that why the Devil Worshippers were going to kill you?” he asked.

The two knights exchanged glances and Sir Miles grunted a reply: “That would be reason enough to them. We are Christian Knights who fight against the Devil and all his works at every opportunity.”

To Peter, who rarely went to church and did not take religion seriously, it was all a bit incredible.

At that moment a cry from below interrupted them. It was Stephen. Graham and Peter made their way to the edge and carefully looked over. It was a very steep slope. The first ten metres was a sheer drop, then the mountainside dropped away in an almost vertical, scrub-covered slope. This went on and on, far down into a deep valley, then across a saddle before rising up to the even higher, jungle-covered slopes of the Bellenden Ker Range.

Peter found himself suffering an attack of vertigo. He felt so dizzy and
unsteady on his feet that he feared he would fall over so he knelt down to look. Even so he could only just make out Stephen amidst the bushes and rocks.

Graham lay down and looked over. “Hello!” he shouted.

Stephen looked up. “I've found him. He's alive, but I won't be able to get him up on my own. It will take the three of us.”

“OK, We will come down,” Peter called back.

“Don't bring the girls,” Stephen yelled, his voice cracking oddly. “Why not? We might need all of us to get him up,” Peter replied, mystified by the odd tone in Stephen's voice.

“Don't! Whatever you do, don't!” Stephen shouted back, raw emotion clear in his voice. “They must not see what is here.”

Chapter 4

SUNSET

A
s soon as he heard Stephen's plea Peter's blood ran cold. Dark suspicions crowded his mind and he just knew somehow what Stephen had found. He also knew that, however much he did not want to do it, he had to go and look. First he looked around to check where the girls were.

All three were busy helping the three released prisoners up onto the flat area where the packs were.

Graham looked at Peter, his mouth set in a grim line. “Doesn't sound good. We'd better go down.”

Peter nodded. “Yes, but I'll make sure the girls are busy first. You go down. I'll be with you in a moment.”

Graham moved to the edge of the rock while Peter walked up to where the others were. All three girls were busy fussing over the men who were now seated as comfortably as they could. Peter noted that at least two of the men were shivering badly. He also noted that Megan was shaking. Only then did he realize he was so tense that he was trembling himself.

“Megan, you get up on top of that rock and act as sentry in case those men come back again,” Peter instructed. “Joy, you sort out this gear and search through it. See if there is any water or food. Gwen, you look after these three blokes. We are going down to try to help Stephen with the injured man.”

Gwen stood up from wiping blood off Sir Miles' face. “You will need help. We will come too.”

“Wait till we call you. Fix these blokes up first,” Peter replied. He knew that if he mentioned not wanting them to see that they would really start to worry. His own stomach was now churning with reaction, exertion and anxiety. He looked at the sun. Half gone now. A glance at his watch showed it was only 5:40. He had expected it to be later than that.

Things must have happened very fast
, he mused as he made his way reluctantly back down onto the sacrificial rock.
But we'd better hurry. It will be dark in half an hour at the most
.

Already everything was bathed in a ruddy glow and the other mountains were looking more black than green. Biting his lip Peter moved to the side of the rock where Stephen and Graham had gone down the slope. There he
hesitated. He found his heart was pounding and he seemed to be short of breath. In an emotionally detached part of his mind he knew what it was:- fear. A terrible sense of impending dread was gripping him.

With a sob, knowing that whatever it was he was going to see would be with him for the rest of his life, Peter climbed down off the rock into the scrub.

The slope was so steep that it was almost vertical. The bushes were all stunted and twisted, most growing out of cracks in the rock face. Peter had to cling on and push down through them. His skin and clothes were scratched but he persisted. Twice he slipped and had to cling on grimly to stop himself crashing out over the rocky outcrop below him.

By following the track broken by Stephen and Graham Peter was able to make his way down the slope. The route led him down below the side of the huge rock. This was in deep shadow and for the first time he felt cold. He licked dry lips and rubbed his forehead. It felt hot and feverish to the touch and he knew he was getting sick from the over-exertion and dehydration.

Below the rock he came out onto a slope so steep he still had to hold on to the spindly trees to stop himself sliding. As he rounded the base of the huge boulder he came out into the blood red glow of the setting sun, to find Graham and Stephen wedged among rocks and bushes. Nearby lay the injured man.

“How is he? Is he… Oh my God!”

Peter found himself speechless with horror as his eyes registered what it was he was looking at. As his mind absorbed the ghastly scene he felt his stomach heave with nausea.

Just beside the man was a rotting corpse impaled on a splintered sapling. The flesh had mostly rotted off, what remained appearing a mixture of blood red and revolting yellowy-brown in the light of the setting sun. It was just like something out of a horror movie.

Or my worst nightmare
, Peter thought.

For a moment he was too stunned and frightened to speak. He could only cling to a tree and stare in ghastly fascination at the macabre scene. The skull, he saw, was still attached to the man's neck (Had it been a man? He wasn't sure). A broken branch stuck up through the rib cage. Strips of dried and rotten flesh and skin hung in ribbons. Tufts of hair still clung to the scalp of the skull.

Stephen had been sick and was shaking. He looked ghastly, pale even in the red glow. “You see why I didn't want the girls to come?” he gasped.

Peter swallowed, licked his lips and nodded. “Yes,” was all he could croak.

Graham pointed: “There are more. At least two more.”

Peter now saw that there were bleached bones scattered down the slope
amidst the rocks, bushes and dead leaves. Another wave of fear and horror swept over him. After licking dry lips and swallowing to moisten his dry throat he said: “So the man at the bottom was telling the truth; they were going to kill these people.”

Graham nodded. “Looks like they have done it quite a few times over the years. I wonder how many bodies are here?”

“Never mind that!” Stephen cried, his voice cracking with emotion. “Let's get this bloke up to the top.”

Peter forced himself to tear his eyes from the skeleton. He moved over and knelt beside the injured Devil Worshipper. The man was crumpled amongst the rocks and his leg was twisted back at an odd angle. Stephen had removed the man's balaclava and Peter could see that he was unconscious and had a huge bruise on his temple.