The Mongol Objective mi-2

by David Sakmyster

  “They can wait longer.” Caleb crouched, dragging the pack right up to the back of Orlando’s legs. “Keep the light on us!” he yelled back, then winced against the blaze.

  “Tell me when,” Orlando said.

  Caleb could see his feet shaking. His boots, dirt-caked and torn at the sides, wobbled on a plate tilting out of the earth. He could see the levers underneath leading to the closest statues, somehow triggering them into movement.

  He dragged the pack onto the back of the plate, inching it forward little by little. “Lift your foot, Orlando. Just slightly. Lean forward. Keep your toes on it. There…”

  Something grated and Orlando flinched. It took all his effort not to move off the plate. “Boss? They’re gearing up, and their blades look freakin’ sharp. Vorpal sharp, even. At least I know I won’t feel it when-”

  “Stop. Now, just ease forward. All your weight on your left foot.” Caleb slid the pack two more inches, covering now the space where his right foot had been.

  Balancing, back foot in the air, Orlando slowly set it down, next to his front foot.

  Caleb took his hands off the pack, gently, with his eyes closed. Then opened them and looked up, breathing a sigh. “Okay?”

  “Still in one piece,” Orlando said. “It’s holding. Can I run for it?”

  “Not yet.” Caleb glanced back and saw Qara behind the others, pulling Phoebe with her. Saw their eyes. Saw Qara’s expression, and her lips moving: Do it.

  Caleb put his hand back on the pack while getting up into a kneel, and with his other hand took Orlando’s arm. He could pull him down easily, down and away from the statue’s reach, just as he pulled the pack off the plate. Both of them would be ducking, and after the two statues swung horizontally, the arrows would fly at perfectly coordinated angles, missing the other statues and striking with a maximum spread at anyone standing on the shore.

  Take them all out. Do it.

  He tightened his grip on the backpack, glancing around at all the lights dancing off the taut visages of the warriors standing in their eternal positions, poised and waiting for this chance to defend their master.

  Caleb blinked away a bead of sweat. Shook his head. No. Not like this.

  He eased Orlando back, around the plate, even as he stood up from a crouch, and led him slowly, carefully back along their footsteps.

  Back to the party on the shore, away from the frozen warriors, who watched them with resigned indifference.

  Qara stood up, fury in her eyes. But Phoebe pushed past Renee and Chang and threw her arms around Orlando’s neck. She pulled back, looked into his eyes and gave him a big kiss before pulling away and slapping his cheek. “Don’t ever do that again!”

  “What?”

  “Risk your life on an unsupported vision. You want to be part of the Morpheus Initiative, you’d better wise up.”

  Orlando’s grin was unwavering. “It was worth it. For that kiss.”

  “I’d rather drink that mercury water,” said Renee, “than listen to any more of this crap. Let’s get moving.” She moved behind them and pointed her gun at their backs. “Let’s go. Down into the tunnel.”

  9

  “Don’t move, kid!”

  Montross tightened his hold on the Emerald Tablet. The giant warriors on the wall were bent over, crossbows aimed to take out anyone on the shore. “Not a muscle. Do… not… move.” He glanced back. “Nina? Options?”

  She thought quickly, looking to the large duffel bag at her feet. “RPG?”

  Thinking for a moment, Montross nodded. “I’m sure, given enough time, we could RV this moment, try to figure out what the builders had in mind, how to bypass this trap and get that gate open.”

  “But time is something we don’t have,” Nina said, unzipping the bag. She put her Beretta away and reached inside the bag for the rocket launcher and one of three missiles. She screwed it in and stood, raising the rifle butt to her shoulder, flipping over the reticule and peering through it.

  “Aim for the ledge between the second and third warrior,” Montross said. “Right, Colonel? Would that be your advice?”

  Hiltmeyer, his face ashen, his flashlight trembling, only murmured his assent. He kept staring at the body of his last soldier, staked into the ground, back arched at an awkward angle, head swiveled with dead eyes locked on him.

  Nina aimed. “Duck, Alexander. Now! ”

  She fired. Just as Alexander’s movement triggered something and the second archer swiveled four degrees, lining up a shot with the boy’s location.

  The missile struck, exploding the entire rampart under the statue warriors, blowing two of them into chunks and sending debris in all directions. Alexander tucked himself into a ball, wincing as a few smaller pieces struck his back and a powdery dust swirled in the flashlight beams. He rubbed his ears, amazed that anything could produce such a tremendous sound, then waved away the smoke and stood, not sure which direction was which.

  “Wait,” Montross cautioned.

  He and Nina led Colonel Hiltmeyer out as the smoke cleared and they looked up. The statues were gone, all but the lower torso and crouched legs of the left-most warrior, standing on a cracked edge over the gap. “Nice work,” Montross said. He pointed to the gate and said to Nina, “Now kindly open that door.”

  “Wait!” Alexander said, shaking his head. “I see something.” He closed his eyes, after ripping off his gas mask and taking in deep breaths. The air was clearer now, smelling of something fresh and pure blowing over the walls. “Water,” he said. “A lot of it, just past the gate.”

  “A ‘sunless sea,’” Montross whispered. “Coleridge.” He glanced back. “It couldn’t have been the river he was talking about, and it surely wasn’t anything topside. But beyond these walls…”

  “A sea,” Alexander repeated. “And I think it’s fresh, not like that river.”

  Montross nodded. “You’re right. Genghis created an underground Venice. His city, his mausoleum. It’s half-submerged. Instead of a moat on the outside of his castle-city, he built the moat on the inside, an enormous lake, enclosed by forty-foot-high walls.”

  Nina scanned the area above the wall where now she could just make out a series of glowing lights, and as her eyes adjusted, shapes appeared: towers and domes, long spires and lonely minarets. She pointed. “I think Caleb’s team made it to the other side at least. Look. Flares.”

  “So what happens,” Hiltmeyer asked, “if you blow open the gate?”

  Montross scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Out comes the sea?” He glanced left and right, shining his flashlight. High walls in either direction beyond the tunnel from which they’d just arrived. Walls that met other walls of Genghis’s city.

  “We drown,” Alexander guessed. “That’s what happens.”

  “Back in the boat,” Montross said. “We’ll latch ourselves down.”

  “Wait, I’ve got a better idea,” Nina said. She dug into the supplies and pulled out a coil of rope and a grappling hook. “Why not just go over the wall?”

  They chose a section of the wall unguarded at the top and Montross climbed up first, followed by Hiltmeyer. Alexander went next, hauled up by Hiltmeyer as Montross supervised.

  When he got to the top and clambered over, standing on the five-foot-wide precipice, he felt like he was standing on China’s Great Wall, gazing out into the gloom over an ancient city. His eyes followed a pathway below, bathed in a flickering radiance, a bridge over the sea, winding in a serpentine fashion and branching out into smaller avenues, connecting the various palaces and halls, reaching distant temples and monasteries, which in turn had tributaries joining other domed buildings and structures whose purpose eluded any guesses he could come up with. All around these silent buildings lay the darkness of the subterranean sea. Placid, motionless. Reflecting the towers and domes in the faint light of the scarlet flares burning high above.

  In the flickering light, Alexander could only shake his head in wonder. And then he let his roaming eyes focus and
follow the length of the wall as it stretched into the shadows and circled around the great city. Across the dismal sea, he could picture his father somewhere on the opposite wall, staring out over the vast gulf of crimson-tinted shadows, over the final resting place of the great Khan, and across to Alexander.

  Just hold on, Dad. We’re coming. I’ll find you.

  “There,” said Nina, pointing down over the wall. “We can lower ourselves to the walkway.”

  “I don’t like the looks of that,” Hiltmeyer said, squinting. Extending from about half-way up on the gate’s interior below, the walkway-thoroughfare was made up of a series of great blocks, connected to each other by short arched bridges. “I’m not psychic like you guys, but I suspect those blocks might fall into the sea when we step on them.”

  “And,” voiced Alexander meekly, “maybe there are piranhas in there. Or sharks. I hate sharks.”

  Montross shone his light down on the first section, then over the bridge. “If it’s a trap, I don’t see what can be done to avoid it.”

  “Unless,” said Nina, “we’re meant to swim.”

  Alexander shuddered. “With the piranhas?”

  “Or,” she continued, “we bring up the boat, then drop it on this side and just row over to his mausoleum.”

  “And just where is this mausoleum supposed to be?” asked Hiltmeyer.

  Montross unzipped his pack and reached in for the Emerald Tablet. Took it out and held it up. “Turn off the lights for a second. I want to try something.”

  They did, and the bridge went dark while Nina shifted her aim, watching the colonel stiffen in the green radiance.

  Alexander’s eyes adjusted, and then he saw something strange. Like a reflection of the tablet itself, something flickering in the distance. It came from a large rounded structure surrounded by immense pillars and defended on all sides by water, except for a lone pathway from the center avenue.

  The light-actually a pair of lights-came from a window in the upper reaches of the dome.

  “There,” said Montross. “That’s where we’re going. There’s his mausoleum.”

  Alexander whispered, “I’m guessing those lights are your keys.”

  “It would seem so.” Montross lowered the artifact. “They’re responding to the tablet, I imagine, and to the one around my neck. Now, Alexander. A quick glimpse, and let’s see if old Genghis has any more diabolical tricks up his sleeve.”

  At that moment, with Nina’s attention fixed on the distant lights of the mausoleum, Colonel Hiltmeyer took his chance. All his anger, fear and drive for revenge exploded at once. He lunged, striking Nina, roaring into her, gripping her under the shoulders and flipping her over the wall.

  Before Alexander even heard the splash, the big colonel had raced past him, leaping for Montross.

  A second before it happened, Montross had gotten a flash, a glimpse of Hiltmeyer charging him, bowling him over, grabbing him by the neck.

  So late! Usually the visions came long before any such threat of death. But recently, with so many crisscrossing events and track-jumping, the future was being constantly rewritten, and his sight took a hit.

  Better late than never, he thought, grunting as Hiltmeyer struck him. He had managed to lift the arm holding the tablet and to grip it tighter. He absorbed the impact, letting Hiltmeyer bash him against the rampart, and then, with one big effort, he brought the tablet down on the colonel’s head.

  Not enough force to kill him, but enough to daze him, and with that slight loosening of his grip, Montross slipped around, raising the tablet again for another strike.

  Hiltmeyer rolled onto his back, bent his knees and kicked out, catching Montross in the gut and knocking him to the floor. The Ruger had fallen and was kicked across the stones in the melee to where Alexander stood, too shocked to move.

  In a flash, Hiltmeyer was on Montross, this time slamming a knee into his stomach and bringing a fist down, hard, against his cheek. Then another to the mouth. Hiltmeyer was an enraged bear, striking again and again and — until the shot bellowed through the cavern, echoing across the walls, domes and among pillars.

  Hiltmeyer staggered to his feet, then shuffled backward. It looked like he was choking himself, except for the dark liquid streaming from between his fingers. His eyes were open in wide shock, staring into the gloom, to the area above the shaking light held in Alexander’s hand-opposite the hand holding the smoking Ruger.

  Which promptly fell, released from trembling fingers.

  Montross craned his neck and looked past the swelling on his face. He spit out blood and grinned. “Thanks, kid.”

  Hiltmeyer dropped to a seated position, his back thudding against the wall, his head falling forward, hands at his side as the blood continued to pump down the front of his shirt.

  “I killed him.” Alexander stared at his open hand as if it belonged to someone else.

  Montross stood, wobbling. He picked up the tablet, then snatched up the Ruger, sliding it under his belt. Then, with a glance at Hiltmeyer and a look of newfound respect for Alexander, he went to the wall and scanned the darkness below.

  “Flashlight.”

  Alexander remained motionless.

  “Now, kid! Snap out of it or we’re going to lose her.”

  The light bobbled, came over and aimed below. Alexander held it in both hands, still shaking. Montross focused, looking left and right.

  “Here!” shouted a voice.

  The light sought her out, then found her, clinging to the side of the first block. She looked ragged. Her sleeves were torn. The beam fell on her battered face, illuminating streaks of blood and a patch of her hair ripped away.

  She squinted, then with great effort pulled herself up and rolled onto the platform, chest heaving. She held up a hand to ward off the light, and said, “You definitely do not want to fall in.”

  She stood, testing her balance, and Alexander and Montross tensed, expecting the block to fall into the waters or to break apart and drag her under. But nothing happened.

  “I guess we’re safe on the walkway,” Alexander said.

  “Appears so. At least that one,” Montross agreed.

  “And,” called Nina, “at least the water’s fine. Drank a gallon of it under there while I fought with something. I don’t know exactly what, but they were slimy, long and had lots of teeth.

  Montross eyed the bubbles below. “I think we still want to RV this area, to be sure. And now, thanks to Alexander, we don’t have to worry about getting backstabbed by Mr. Liability over there.”

  Alexander hung his head. “Why did I shoot him?” Alexander asked. “When I could’ve shot you?”

  Taking his hand away, Montross looked down, meeting Alexander’s grave stare. “I’m sorry kid. I really am. About your mom. About all this. But someday, soon I hope, you’ll see what I’m doing-what I’ve done-and you’ll understand.”

  “Never.”

  Montross shrugged, and his face darkened before the tablet’s glow lit it up again. “Come on, I’ll lower you down to Nina, and we’ll make our way to the Mausoleum.”

  “Where we’ll see my dad?”

  “I’m positive of it.”

  “What about all these other buildings. These temples, those palaces? All that treasure?” Alexander’s eyes lit up and he licked his lips. The enormity of what he had just done was fading under a renewed boyhood enthusiasm for adventure, overwhelming the onslaught of witnessing so much death. “All that gold must be piled up somewhere in here.”

  “If you want to explore and sightsee,” Montross said, “then you come back here with your own annoying kids someday. We’re only here for the keys.”

  10

  The underground river below the terra cotta army was more like a sewer tunnel system than a river. The water was about knee-deep, and fortunately it was fresh, without a hint of the toxicity of the outside stream.

  Cupping some in his palm, Caleb took a tentative drink. A sip, then a hearty swallow. Then he washed off h
is face as the others saw him and gratefully did the same.

  “Keep moving,” Renee ordered. “Unless you want to RV this portion of the tunnel as well. But it seems odd that they would trap the very route just rewarded to us for solving that riddle up there.”

  “They’ll booby trap everything,” Phoebe said. “It’s what they do. Sadists.”

  Qara made a clicking sound.

  “Or,” Caleb said, “they just want to make sure we’re worthy.”

  “You’re not,” Qara said quietly. “No one is.”

  Renee turned to her, splashing in the cool water. “Then why is this tunnel here?” The radiance from the flashlights reflected off the water, and danced like sunbursts in her eyes. “Why have we gotten this far, if your great Khan didn’t want someone to find him?”

  Behind her back, Qara’s wrists worked the straps. Blood dripped into the water, the flesh cut through almost to the bone. Her face bore no expression.

  “No,” Renee continued, “our presence here is proof. It was meant to be found. Found, and taken.”

  “By you?” Phoebe asked. “I don’t think so. This is just like the Pharos Lighthouse. It was designed to keep out everyone except those with our kinds of abilities. And despite your minor glimpse at our RV session, I don’t think you qualify.”

  “We’ll see,” Renee said. “I’m blessed in other ways. Chosen.”

  Qara worked her shoulders, pulling, tugging, twisting her fingers back at a nearly impossible angle, getting under the plastic.

  Caleb stood by his sister and addressed Renee. “You want these keys, the translation and the tablet. Want it returned to your master. But Marduk’s long gone. And your cult, it’s nothing anymore, is it? So what is this really about?”

  Renee smirked. “You have no idea. Once we have those keys, and once we find the-” She stopped herself suddenly, smiled and turned away.

  Find the what? Caleb thought. Something else of Marduk’s?

  Renee looked back and smirked. “Thoth’s failure will be complete, and all this secrecy and protection will be all for nothing.”