Then Krysty’s arm encircled Akhnaton’s neck from behind and jerked him off his feet.
JAK AWAKENED with a start. His impression was that he had been sleeping a long time and that he had been dreaming. In his dream, he had come to the frightening realization something was terribly wrong.
To loosen his stiff neck tendons, Jak rolled his head. Through the open mouth of the shaft, the light of the setting sun colored his restricted view of the sky. He heard a dim murmur of sound from far below, but it was too faint to identify.
He thought of his love, of Nefron, of what she wanted him to do, and flickers of raw emotion passed through his mind. As he eyed the projecting knob of the deadfall lever, revulsion filled him. Chilling an enemy in a face-to-face was one thing, but crushing him through traps and treachery was the act of a cowardly mercenary, like the coldhearts who had murdered his wife and baby.
Jak desperately sought the image of Nefron and the feelings of love she had expressed for him. He found the image, but no feelings of love—only anger overlaid with sexual energies and lust. Not lust for him, but for power.
His revulsion deepened, and he tried to talk his gut out of it. He couldn’t. His heart lurched and his breathing was suddenly heavy. Jak knew on a profound, intuitive level that he had been tricked, hoaxed, conned and used.
He didn’t know why he felt this way so intensely, but he wasn’t going to analyze the reasons. The taste of his own shame was so bitter he almost vomited.
Bitter.
He replayed in his memory the many, almost countless cups of astringent liquid both Kela and Nefron had cajoled him to drink.
Jak climbed unsteadily to his feet, teetering for the moment on the edge of the rock shelf. Whether Pharaoh was indeed the monster Nefron had described, he knew that his actions could be no more loathsome than her own.
He sprang up, bracing himself with sweaty palms against the shaft walls, feet scrabbling to secure a hold. Inches at a time, he began worming his body up the vertical passage, pushing with his hands and heels. Climbing up would be far more laborious than climbing down.
A ghostly wail full of soul-deep pain wafted up from below. He froze for a second, nape hairs tingling in fright. His boot soles suddenly slipped, and he plummeted downward, shoulders and back scalding with friction-induced heat. His right leg flailed wildly, kicking out for some kind of purchase or support.
His foot found it, and when Jak pushed himself up, a gunshot-loud crack echoed within the shaft. He froze for only a microsecond, listening. Immediately following the fading echoes of the sound, he heard a rumble.
“Shit,” he said aloud.
Frantically, he began to climb again, clawing and dragging his way up the shaft.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Akhnaton was at least a hundred pounds heavier than Krysty, yet she sent him reeling half the length of the King’s Chamber with one arm. The bronzed giant staggered and stumbled, losing his headdress but managing to regain his balance.
He gaped at Krysty, his face sagging in an expression of astonishment that was almost comical. Then, snarling, his upper lip curled back over his teeth. He straightened to his full six-foot-plus height, raising his fists over his head in rage.
“You bitch! You mutie whore! You dare to profane me with your soiled touch?”
Akhnaton was on her in a roaring rush, swinging keglike fists in a flurry of punches. Krysty managed to duck and backpedal out of the reach of his arms.
Ryan resisted the urge to interfere. He recognized that strange, dreamy half smirk on Krysty’s lips. She was in the grip of Gaia now and far more dangerous than Akhnaton had ever dreamed she could be.
Akhnaton came at her again, sweeping both arms at her head. Krysty ducked the first punch and stepped inside the second. She put her right fist into his belly and swung her left in an uppercut that rocked him back on his heels.
Though Akhnaton had no knowledge of the finer points of hand-to-hand combat, Ryan knew he would depend on his strength to absorb punishment to carry him through a fight. Krysty’s problem lay in avoiding his punches and landing enough of her own to wear him down. He prayed she had the stamina before the power of the Earth Mother left her.