"What's wrong with you?" the king gasped.
Then Panos was moving behind her. "Your Highness, Pythia has returned," he boomed. "What is it you wish to ask?"
The king stared. Pythia moved closer to him and leered at him, her tongue hanging from her mouth. "Get away; get away from me."
Suddenly, she was babbling. The words gushed from her mouth, but made no sense. Indy detected a familiar word here, a phrase there. Latin. French. Greek. English. But it was gibberish.
"Pythia is addressing you, Your Highness," Panos said. "She says you are the one who should get away.
You are in
danger. Someone very near wants to kill you. Flee this place; flee now for your life. But go with the knowledge that Delphi will soon rise in fame again, and the fortunes of our country will change."
"Who are you to tell me this?" the king demanded. "It is not I; it is Pythia who speaks." The king looked skeptically at Dorian. Her head hung to the side, her eyes were closed, and she was rocking back and forth.
"She is Pythia?"
Indy jerked his head as the hulking figure of Doumas appeared. His arms were outstretched; he lunged for Panos and grabbed him around the waist. Dorian was knocked off her feet; her head bounced hard against the ground. Indy lurched toward her, but Doumas and Panos rammed into him.
Indy stumbled back, trying to recover his balance, but his feet slipped over the edge of the crevice. He slid down, clawing at the earth until he clutched a partially buried rock at the very brink of the hole. But the rock was loose. Oh God, no. I don't want to die. Not here. Not with these guys.
He pulled as hard as he could, raising his chest over the edge of the hole just as the rock broke free. His legs dangled; he inched forward, threw a leg over the top, then rolled over on his back.
He looked up just in time to see a foot about to stomp on his face. He grabbed it at the last instant and shoved it back. Then he saw that the foot belonged to Grigoris, who was coming at him again. But Doumas collared him. He held father and son by their necks and spun them in circles dangerously close to the edge.
At any moment they could tumble over, and take Indy with them.
Indy tried to roll further away from the crevice, but as he did several feet tripped over him and bodies tumbled toward the crevice. Someone yelled, and Indy saw hands grappling for purchase. He reached out and grabbed a
wrist. Whoever it was hung precariously in midair, stretching Indy's arm to its limit.
He heard a prolonged scream as one of the men—he couldn't tell who—plunged into the abyss. His yells echoed down the chasm, and finally trailed off into deadly silence. To his left, Panos was hanging half over the ledge, and Grigoris struggled to pull him up.
Who had fallen—Doumas? Then who was hanging onto his hand? With an effort that took all of his strength, he pulled, digging his feet into the loose earth. He saw an arm, a shoulder, then the neck and head of the king. With the help of the king's free hand, Indy pulled him the rest of the way out of the hole.
They got to their feet at the same time, and the king stared at Indy for a long moment. "I'll remember this,"
he said. "You saved my life."
As suddenly as the vapors had arrived, they dispersed, like fog burned off by the sun. It was as if Doumas had been eaten alive by the power below Delphi and now the enigmatic force was retracting its ethereal tendrils.
Suddenly, the king's aides were attending to him, hus tling him away from the ruined temple. "He wanted to kill me," the king said.
"Who did?" one of his aides asked.
"The obese one, the archaeologist. But I was warned by Pythia. That woman is Pythia."
Mandraki, meanwhile, scooped up Dorian, and Grigoris was helping his father to his feet.
"Good time to get out of here," Indy muttered, and hurried away. He cut behind the theater to the path leading to the stables. He ran as best he could, his bruised thigh throbbing with every step. The vapors hadn't done a damn thing for his thigh, or his ribs, for that matter. The path ended at the workshop, and he dashed across the grassy yard to the stables.
He walked along the stalls and picked out a horse, one
that Dorian had said was the strongest and fastest. He threw the saddle over its back, but as he did, the horse reared up, knocking the saddle off and nearly trampling Indy.
He quickly abandoned the stall. "Try you some other day, fellow."
The next stall was empty, but in the one after it was the horse that Indy had been riding. He quickly saddled the steed, and was about to mount him when he spotted Mandraki headed his way carrying Dorian in his arms. He could ride past them, but Mandraki was probably armed.
He cursed under his breath and turned the horse back into the stall, removed the saddle, and ducked low. A few seconds later, Mandraki lumbered into the stable. Stay away from this stall, Indy ordered in his mind. He closed his eyes as he heard the creaking of a door. It was the next stall, the empty one. Mandraki placed Dorian on the hay-covered floor.
"Dorian, wake up. We've got to get going"
Indy heard a sharp slap, then another. "Damn it, Dorian. What's wrong with you?"
Dorian blinked her eyes as she felt a hard slap across one cheek, then the other. She didn't know where she was. Then she saw Alex's face looming over her. She looked around. "What am I doing in this stable?
Oh, my head." She gingerly touched a lump near her temple.
"Everything went wrong. What were you doing in the vapors? You were supposed to leave with me."
"I did, but then I don't know what happened."
"Well, the king got away, and he knows there was an attempt on his life," Mandraki said. "Did Jones try to push him?"
"I don't know," Dorian answered. "I couldn't see. I was just trying to find my way out of there without falling into the hole. Are we in trouble?"
Mandraki shook his head. "No. He thinks it was Dou mas who tried to kill him, and he's dead. He fell."
"So we're safe."
"Not until we clean up after ourselves," Mandraki said. "We've got to act fast."
"What do you mean?"
Mandraki frowned at her, confused by her sudden denseness. "We've got to get rid of Jones and his friends. Then when we're done with them, I'm going to personally handle those two village idiots, the father and son. Any idea what they were doing there?"
She turned her head aside. "I don't know."
"The other day the older one told me that Jones was pursuing you. Why would he take an interest in my affairs? Or should I say yours?"
Mandraki had always tolerated her flings with younger men, unless he thought they were lasting too long. Then he ended them, his way. Jones would be no exception, she knew. But she wanted him alive.
Somehow, she had to stall Mandraki. She had her own plans for Jones.
"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,"