A Tiger in the Garden: Part IV

    

 A disgraced and exiled noble, stripped of his status, spends his days drinking and whoring in the exotic jungle colonies. When pressed to pay his debts he gets entangled in a deadly plot involving deceit, murder, and the dark magic of the deep jungle. Published in Storyhack Action & Adventure Issue 0 

PART IV

The old man led Valan, Bartholomeus, and Henrik out into the jungle night. They marched in a single file, hands tied behind their backs. In the rear, the big shirtless native carried the musket pointed at their backs. 

The path took them through the plantation garden and out into the jungle proper. The night air was wet and sticky, filled with the constant buzz of predatory insects. The deeper they went into the canopy the more oppressive it felt. Valan could not banish the constant feeling that they were being watched.

He looked up at Bartholomeus who was walking silently in front. "Hey, this is what I get for humoring your sense of honor."

"Nobody asked you to come for me," coughed Henrik from behind, "I can take care of myself."

"Yeah, I can see that."

"You never even came because of me, you most likely wanted to impress Arabella or rob the place."

"Impress Arabella," laughed Valan, "you mean like walking into her father's chamber all excited like a giddy school boy. 

"I was set up! She told me to meet her there."

"You're still an idiot."

The serpentine old man whipped around. "Silence!" he yelled. At that instant, Bartholomeus tripped and fell face first over some tangled roots and vines. "Clumsy idiot! Get up before we shoot you." He walked over and pulled him up. "If any of you talks or falls down again we are going to leave you bound in the jungle to be eaten by beasts."

They marched in silence, their only light a small flickering torch carried by the old man. Around them, Valan heard the bestial screams of the jungle, his mind imagining the malevolent forces that dwelt in the dark. After what seemed like hours they reached a rope bridge suspended across a dark ravine. On the other side, Valan saw the massive shape of a step pyramid jutting out of the jungle canopy. Thick vines enveloped its base, snaking up the central stairway that led up to a torch lit platform. The architecture was nothing like anything Valan had ever seen. It felt ancient and sinister.

Crossing the swaying bridge, Valan tried to see how deep the ravine was, but the bottom was obscured by darkness. The closer they got to the pyramid the worse Valan felt. This is not what he expected. He figured they would be held for ransom, or sold to slavers. Something else was going on here. For the first time tonight he started to worry.

"What in the god's name is this place?" whispered Henrik, his usually confident voice faint.

"I have no idea, but it doesn't look good for us."

With the bridge behind them, the three prisoners stood at the base of the pyramid. The wide rough stairway was lit all the way to the top by torches. The old man and his brute ordered for them to continue up. Valan looked around, there was nowhere to run, and with his hands bound behind his back, there was no way he would stand a chance against the musket. Ahead, Bartholomeus climbed the steps in expressionless silence. 

"Alright, I get it," began Valan, "you guys have a crazy ancient temple you want to show us."

"There is much you don't know about Angkasa. Now hurry up!" said the old man.

The top of the pyramid was a flat platform, its center illuminated by a circle of torches mounted on bamboo shafts. The floor was covered in patches of damp moss and littered with debris. The light from the torches threw monstrous shadows across the surrounding jungle making it seem like every tree was covered in writhing dark creatures. 

The shirtless brute led them to one of the corners and motioned for them to sit down. Valan started to sit slowly when the old man grabbed him."Not you, Master Valan, you serve a different purpose. When our demonstration is over Captain Henrik will surely cooperate." He tied a longer rope around Valan's wrists and pulled him towards the center of the platform.

"When this freak show is over I'm going to kill you!" spat Valan.

"You will do no such thing," he grinned and tied the longer rope to a metal hook sticking out of the stone at the center of the platform. 

Valan struggled but the rope was strong and the hook did not budge. Each time he pulled pain shot through his shoulders as the knot tightened, pulling him closer to the ground. Inside the ring, the torchlight was intense making it difficult to see anything past the edge of the platform. All he could see was the other two prisoners on their knees, hands bound behind them. Bartholomeus was silent and composed. His eyes focused on Valan. Beside him, Henrik was slumped over, covered in sweat. His eyes darted in every direction reminding Valan of a frightened animal. The old man and the brute stood watch, musket ready.

Suddenly silence, as if the jungle took a deep breath and held it in. Valan could no longer hear the buzz of insects or the screeching of the night birds. Something unnatural was going on. His heart raced as fear began to edge in on his thoughts. He should have tried to escape earlier, should have gone for that musket. His arrogance got in the way of prudence and he underestimated the situation. 

He heard a sharp scrape from the opposite end of the platform. Something was coming up the side of the pyramid. Valan struggled to see what it was but the shadows and bright light obscured his sight. The scraping sound came closer. He looked around, hoping to see something that might be useful. But, to his horror, he realized that what he earlier thought was rubble was actually bone. The platform was littered with human bones. He took a deep breath and prepared himself to face the unspeakable.

A massive black tiger came out of the shadows. It was twice the size of any tiger Valan had ever seen and the wrong color. Its fur was midnight blue with ink-dark stripes that gave it a monstrous appearance. Its paws were the size of a man's head and with each step, its razor sharp claws scraped the stone floor.

It stood still gazing at Valan. Its eyes were pure darkness reflecting none of the torchlight, betraying a sinister intelligence beyond any natural beast. Valan met the tiger's gaze and shivered with dread. He knew the beast wanted not only to devour him but to consume his very soul.

The beast roared and began to circle. Valan pulled on the rope harder, desperately tried to slip his hands out of the tight knot. Nothing. The rope was tied well, all he managed to do was rub his wrists raw. The tiger stopped its pacing and crouched down. Valan began to panic, he was going to be eaten alive.

It pounced, launching itself through the air. Sharp claws flying at him. Less than a hands length from his face, Bartholomeus body collided with the beast mid-air, sending both of them rolling. A whirling mass of flesh and fur. Valan exhaled. Somehow Bartholomeus managed to get out of his bindings and rushed in at the last moment. 

Across the platform, the shirtless brute raised his musket and tried to aim, but the tiger and Bartholomeus were intertwined. He pulled the trigger right as Henrik leaped up and rammed his head into his gut. The barrel kicked up and the shot discharged high into the jungle. Henrik's blow and the recoil from the musket sent him sprawling onto his back. Not wasting a moment Henrik followed his initial attack with several vicious kicks pushing the brute over the side of the pyramid and to most certain death down in the ravine.

Valan closed his eyes and pulled on the rope. He felt the muscles in his shoulders tearing. The coarse rope around his wrist ripped at his flesh. He bared his teeth and struggled harder against the excruciating pain. Finally, one bloodied hand slipped free. He spun around, grabbed the longer rope with both hands and pulled with all his strength. The iron loop he was tied to shot out of the stone platform right as the old man approached, deadly dagger in hand. 

He spun the rope above his head, iron loop whistling through the air and smashing into the side of the old man's head. Valan dropped the rope and leaped on top of him, smashing his fists into what remained of the man's face. 

"Valan!" he heard Henrik yell, "Behind you!"

Turning around, he saw the tiger on top of Bartholomeus. The beast was tearing chunks of flesh from his arms and chest. Blood was everywhere. He had to do something quick or his friend was going to lose the struggle.

He grabbed one of the bamboo torches and charged the tiger flame forward, spearing it right in its face. The beast let out a painful roar as it rolled away, it's face covered with flaming torch oil.

Bartholomeus lay in a bloody heap, but he was still breathing. Henrik ran up to them after freeing himself using the old man's dagger. He was shaken but unhurt.

"Get him out of here," Valan told Henrik and turned to face the tiger.

The tiger's face was badly burned. Its remaining eye fixed on him with a dark intensity. Valan slashed and jabbed with the torch. Each time he got close the tiger dodged out of the way and continued to circle. They danced in this fashion for minutes. The tiger trying to break Valan's perimeter after each thrust of the flame. Valan knew this was no regular jungle beast, it moved and reacted with a human intelligence.

He went for a deep thrust with the torch. It was a mistake. The tiger seemed to anticipate the move and slashed the bamboo torch out of his hand. It leapt at him, digging its sharp claws into his shoulders and bringing him down. Its massive body pinned him onto the ground digging its claws deeper.

The pain was excruciating. The beast's claws burned his flesh. It took all of his will to remain conscious. He looked up at the tiger's open mouth and saw its dagger-sharp teeth dripping with saliva. He prepared himself for the end. That's when he noticed what appeared to be a silver chain holding a coal black gem around the beast's neck. 

With his remaining strength he forced his head forward and bit the chain, jerking his head back he ripped it off the tiger's neck. The gem flew across the platform and bounced off the edge. The tiger reared up on its hind legs, giving off a hideous roar. It rolled onto its side and began violently writhing on the ground making unnatural noises. 

The pyramid shook and the jungle exploded with sound. The screeching of monkeys, birds, and other creatures was deafening. Whatever dark magic silenced them was no longer in control. 

Valan could barely move. His vision was red with blood. He forced himself up, right as the stone beneath his feet began to shake and crumble. He ran. Pushing himself as fast as possible down the pyramid steps and across the rickety rope bridge. 

Safe on the other side his legs gave out and he collapsed. Across the ravine, the pyramid was falling onto itself. His head spun, and he began slipping into darkness. The last thing he saw was the shape of a naked woman that looked just like Arabella.

#

Several days later the three of them stood on the deck of The Princess Eliza, Henrik's flagship.

"Thank you for coming back to get me," said Valan. He took a sip of wine out of his flask and raised it to his friends. After he lost consciousness at the edge of the ravine, Henrik managed to drag him out of the Jungle all the way back to the city. Once safe, he gathered his crew and quickly set sail without looking back. 

"The two of you came back to rescue me," said Henrik, taking the flask.

"You can thank Bartholomeus for that. I wanted to leave you."

Bartholomeus nodded and raised the flask. 

"Well, once I drop you off at the nearest port we will be even."

"Not so fast. If what I saw wasn't pain-induced delirium, that vile sorceress Arabella is still alive. That means that the colonial authorities still think you're a murderer. You might need our help."

Henrik nodded and walked away. A small part of Valan enjoyed the fact that both of them were now disgraced outlaws. But, he had to admit that for all his faults Henrik acted honorably back in the Jungle.

"So old friend, what do we do now?" he said, elbowing Bartholomeus. 

"Knowing you, booze, smoke, and some filthy pleasure house."

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