Through Mines of Deception

tribe’s ancestors had chosen to lay their dead to rest down in these dark depths. The stalactites formed beautiful shapes in this crystal cavern of wonders. A hundred feet high in some places, the dripping teeth bit down, meeting their lower counterparts to form bars and oval windows that looked on to yet more bizarre shapes.

  What seemed like a trick of the light at first revealed, on closer inspection, faces and human forms worked into the limestone. But these were no carvings. These were real human remains, impossibly old, petrified in the rock. These limestone tombs must have stood for generations; monuments to lives lived and used up long before white man even dreamed of empire.

  From behind a cluster of sharp formations, Twala suddenly appeared at a run Lazarus would have put past the tubby chief. Whirling his assegai, he lunged at Umbopa, a blow that was expertly deflected by the ever-ready warrior.

  “What the devil is going on!” yelled Rider as the two warriors entered a death-defying duel like two cobras, hissing and striking at each other.

  “Either the chief has gone mad,” said Lazarus, “or his jealousy of Umbopa has turned him to treachery.”

  The older man may have been at a disadvantage due to his years and his less than agile frame but he had clearly been a formidable warrior in his youth and still presented a challenge to young Umbopa. But he tired quickly and began to get sloppy. Feinting, Umbopa struck his chief’s spear to one side with his own and jammed his sandaled foot onto his breastbone, hurling him backwards.

  Lazarus winced, seeing the danger. Twala toppled backwards and landed upon a sharp cluster of stalagmites which were pointed enough to pierce his body in six or seven places. Their bloodied nibs protruded through his abdomen and grew lager as the weight of his body slowly forced him down, impaling him further. He stopped struggling and died with a gurgle and a grimace of agony on his lips.