Carpathian 23 - Dark Storm

her. As long as she walked in
     her mother’s footprints no thorn or spiny-leafed plant would harm her.
    They walked for what seemed like hours. The heat was oppressing in the stillness beneath
     the thick canopy. At times the ground beneath their feet was open and it became easy
     to walk, and then suddenly they would once again be in thick foliage, nearly impossible
     to penetrate. Riley kept a very close eye on her mother as they trekked, noting she
     began to lag behind more and more.
    Both Jubal and Gary slowed their pace, obviously keeping an eye on Annabel. Riley
     took her pack. It was significant that Annabel made no protest when Riley shouldered
     her mother’s pack with her own. After half an hour, Ben Charger dropped back and took
     the pack. The three men took turns carrying it. Annabel never looked up. Her shoulders
     became slumped, weighed down, the closer they got to the base of the mountain. Her
     footsteps dragged, as if she waded through quicksand and every step was a terrible
     effort. Even her breathing became labored.
    It was clear the guides were rushing the sun, trying to make the base of the mountain
     before nightfall, which suited Riley, but her mother wasn’t going to make it. She’d
     fallen silent, watching Jubal’s back to stay in line, but she swayed with weariness
     and her clothes and hair were damp with sweat. They had to stop and rest.
    Fortunately, Weston complained bitterly. “Are we in some kind of race?” he demanded.
     His voice rose with every step.
    “Miguel.” Jubal’s voice carried authority as he spoke to the guide in Miguel’s native
     language. “We have to stop and rest. Half an hour. No more and we’ll start out again.
     Let them rest and get a drink. They’ll move faster for you.”
    Miguel glanced up at the sky, looking very apprehensive, but he nodded abruptly and
     found a tiny clearing with a few rocks for them to sit on. Riley nodded to Jubal in
     thanks as she took her mother’s pack from him and moved to the edge of the trees to
     give her mother some privacy. She was grateful more attention hadn’t been drawn to
     her.
    “We can’t stop,” Annabel whispered the moment they were alone. “We have to hurry.”
    “You need rest, Mom,” Riley protested. “Here, drink this.” She handed her water pack
     to her mother.
    Annabel shook her head. “You’ll have to leave me if I can’t make it.”
    “Mom.” Riley forced herself to be firm. Annabel looked so exhausted and pale she just
     wanted to wrap her in her arms and hold her protectively. “You have to tell me what’s
     going on. What are we facing up there on that mountain? I can’t be kept in the dark
     anymore.”
    Annabel looked around for a place to sit, found a small boulder nestled between two
     trees and sank down onto it. Her hands trembled as she folded them carefully into
     her lap. “All those stories you were told as a little girl about the mountain and
     the Cloud Warriors, those weren’t scary stories, Riley. They were the truth. The history
     of our people.”
    Riley swallowed hard. Those “stories” were the thing of nightmares. A terrible evil
     preying on the greatest warriors, tearing out their throats, drinking blood, demanding
     human sacrifices, children, young women, yet nothing appeased the demon. “Mom, the
     Incas conquered the Cloud People . . .”
    “They were able to because,” Annabel interrupted, “their best warriors had already
     been killed. The people were living in fear.” Her eyes met Riley’s. “The Incas were
     strong, with fierce warriors as well. They took some of the Cloud women as wives.
     Including your ancestor, a woman named Arabejila. She was the one who handed down
     the truth—as well as her gifts—to her daughter. The evil continued for years and years,
     killing the warriors of the Incas just as it had those of the Cloud People. No one
     seemed able to defeat such a bloodthirsty demon.”
    Riley wanted to scoff at such ridiculous lore. She’d heard the stories, but she’d
     also read history, as much as had been compiled about the Cloud People and the Incas.
     There were a few obscure references to human sacrifice and warriors dying, but very
     little, certainly not enough to support the story her mother was telling her . . .
     But, the feeling of evil was growing beneath her feet as they grew closer to the mountain.
     She felt the earth tremble every now and then, and with all the strange events, the
     attacks