The Thrones of Eden 3 (Eden)

by Rick Jones

  But one of the ministers found four thimble-sized indentations that were deep enough to place the four fingertips inside them, excluding the thumb. The excited minister shouted in Turkish, drawing immediate attention.

  They soon discovered more recesses.

  “They’re finger holds,” Alyssa said. “The idea is to allow people purchase points to turn the key at its foundation.”

  “But in what direction?” asked John.

  “That’s a good question. And one we’ll need to answer before turning the plinth in a certain direction.” She looked at the lettering: Use the key unwisely, then darkness shall you forever see. “We cannot afford to make the wrong choice,” she added.

  “So what do we do now?” asked Hillary. “Since the choice is fifty-fifty. We either turn the base to the left or to the right.”

  The four ministers began to scrutinize the plinth closer, which drew a warning from Alyssa for them to be careful. “There has to be something more,” she said. “The lettering surrounding the eye of the Ankh, that’s the riddle. The problem is I can’t piece enough of it together that makes any sense.”

  “You’ve done well so far.”

  She studied the lettering along the teardrop-shaped eye of the Ankh—the symbol of the womb. She then scribbled the archaic symbols on the scratchpad, trying to come to a determination as to their meaning.

  After translating, she was left with more questions than answers.

  John Savage looked down at what she wrote on the pad. “Were you able to figure it out?”

  She shrugged, obviously unclear as to the translation. “A lot of this is based on assumptions of what I think the symbols mean. It’s like taking a redacted statement and inserting words to make it whole again. But an incorrect word here” –She tapped the pad with the point of her pencil—“can alter the riddle’s entire meaning. I’m not exactly confident about this, John.”

  “What did you come up with?”

  She stared at the scratchpad for a brief moment. “Paraphrasing, I think it says: Four Wise Men from the four separate corners of the (Earth) meet at a junction. Since none of the Wise Men can determine who got there first, they all move forward in (unison) without (colliding) into each other. Choosing the possibility of this act will provide you with a half-chance of using the Key wisely. Use the Key poorly, then darkness shall you forever see.”

  John took the scratchpad and studied it. “From the four separate corners of the Earth,” he said more to himself.

  Hillary knew immediately. “I believe its mention is about the four major points of the compass: North, South, East and West, where the points finally converge to a single point at the junction, or at the crossroads.”

  Savage agreed.

  “Should the Four Wise Men continue on without stopping,” added Hillary, “then they would eventually collide into one another. But they don’t, each Wise Man choosing a method so that this does not happen. So the question is: how do they do this?”

  “It’s a direction riddle,” said Alyssa. “Since the Wise Men move forward simultaneously, they eventually have to change direction in order to avert a collision, yes?”

  Savage nodded. “And that leaves only two directions,” he said. “They either have to turn left or right, in unison. That means that the base of the Ankh has to move in either a clockwise or counter-clockwise motion.”

  “But why give four directions in the riddle if the Ankh can only move in two, and not four?” asked Alyssa.

  “There are four directions,” Hillary confirmed. “Think about it. Perhaps in the riddle’s meaning the structure can move upward as well, to the North. And perhaps it can be lowered into the floor just the same, to the South. If this is true, then that means that a clockwise motion, the Wise Men moving to their left, represents East, whereas the counter-clockwise motion, moving to their right, represents West. So if the Wise Men are forced to move to their left or right to avoid collisions, to their East or West, it obviously means that they must move in either one of the two clockwise rotations. But which way do you turn the screw?”

  John examined Alyssa’s translation further. Choosing the possibility of this act will provide you with a half-chance of using the Key wisely. Half-chance? And suddenly it came to him. Half-chance was a fifty-fifty scenario. “There has to be something else,” he finally said. “There has to be a definite direction, left or right. It can’t be a fifty-fifty deal.”

  Alyssa knew what he was talking about. “It specifically says half-chance.”

  John knew she was right. There was no other alternative. Use the Key poorly, then darkness shall you forever see. It didn’t say use the Key wisely, it said ‘poorly.’ A poor decision, or wrong decision, meant obvious death: darkness shall you forever see. “I don’t like the odds,” he finally stated.

  Alyssa concurred. “Neither do I.”

  “Are you talking about aborting?” asked Hillary.

  “I think it would be prudent,” said Alyssa.

  “That’s out of the question.”

  Savage took a step forward, confronting Hillary until they were nearly toe to toe, their faces inches apart. “This isn’t a game,” he told him. “These hallways can come alive like you wouldn’t believe. And they’re not built to be user friendly. In this particular case there’s no concrete answer here—just a decision that gives us a fifty-fifty chance of surviving. If we choose incorrectly, then we die. It’s that simple.”

  “Getting a little over dramatic, aren’t you, Mr. Savage?”

  “Over dramatic? Are you serious?”

  “This structure is more than 14,000 years old,” he said. “Whatever weights and balances created by the original architects to move these walls have certainly diminished over time, becoming useless.”

  “They worked quite well inside the temple of Eden.”

  “We’re not aborting anything,” he told him firmly. “We’re going to make a decision and stick with it.”

  “Then you do it without Alyssa and me.” When he grabbed Alyssa’s elbow to escort her from the amphitheater, Hillary raised a fisted hand, a predetermined signal to Demir, who joined the circle from one of the lower tiers and lifted a halting hand with his palm held forward, disallowing Savage and Alyssa to move another step.

  “Please, Mr. Savage. No one leaves alone,” he said.

  “You can’t detain us.”

  “Sure I can.” Demir didn’t even flinch.

  Then to Hillary: “What do you think you’re doing?” asked Savage.

  “I cannot do this without your help. I need you both. The Turkish government and the Ministry need you as well.”

  “Yeah, maybe. But we don’t need them.” When they tried to sidestep Hillary, Demir raised a hand and placed it on Savage’s chest, stopping him.

  “Mr. Savage, please.”

  “You Hillary’s lackey now? Whenever he raises a hand you come to his beck and call.”

  Demir lowered his hand. “Mr. Savage, it’s not our intent to use force against you or against Ms. Moore. But without the two of you our mortality rate would undoubtedly grow exponentially without your skills to get us through. We need you. We need Ms. Moore. The government and Turkish Ministry would greatly be indebted to you for your services.”

  “And if we don’t want the government and Turkish Ministry to be indebted to us?”

  “The discovery of Eden inside of Turkey’s borders is bringing worldwide attention to our nation. The world expects much from all of us.”

  “Even if it comes with the cost of us dying?”

  “The price of progress has always been destruction,” he told him. “My men understand the nature and importance of this mission . . . If you choose to leave, Mr. Savage, then we will go on without you. But if we press forward without your skills to aid us, and we must, then many of my men will probably die.” He let the statement hang for a long moment. “And as a former soldier, Mr. Savage, you of all people should understand the importance and value of the men wh
o serve under your command.”

  Savage suddenly bit down, causing his muscles to work the back of his jaw. He felt as if he had just been kicked in his soft spot, at the point of his absolute weakness. He had commandeered his SEAL Team to the Philippines on a rescue mission while mentally and emotionally compromised, his lack of awareness ultimately costing him the lives of half his team as well as the primary targets of rescue. There was no doubt in his mind that Demir read his dossier, and was now using it effectively against him in a one-two punch.

  He turned to Alyssa and rubbed her shoulder. “I have to go on,” he told her softly, almost apologetically. “But if you want to go, I’m sure that Demir will have someone—”

  She cut him off by placing the fore- and middle fingers against his lips. “I’m not going anywhere without you,” she said. Her lips curled slightly at the edges, and her eyes were alight with endearment.

  He turned to Demir, his face registering the fact that he wasn’t too happy about the commando striking him with an intentional low blow and playing upon his guilt. He then looked at the Ankh, at the crystal foundation, knowing that they had a fifty-fifty chance of surviving should they make the wrong decision as to which direction to turn it. “If we’re going to do this,” he finally said, “then we need to come to a logical conclusion as to which direction we need to turn the base.”

  Hillary stepped forward with his finger raised. “This Ankh,” he stated, “is the Key to Life, yes?”

  “That’s right.”

  “When we put a key into a lock, in any lock, what direction do we normally turn it in order to open a doorway?”

  “To the right,” said Alyssa.

  “Precisely. We usually turn the key to the right in a clockwise direction.” He looked at the structure, at the magnificent display of crafted work that was nearly perfect in its shape and form. “We turn the Ankh to the right, to the East.”

  To Savage it sounded solid. Then to Alyssa: “What do you think?”

  This was a difficult choice for her as she examined the faces of Demir and the ministers who seemed to wait with subdued anticipation and dread at the same time, with each one looking at her as if she was an oracle who knew what the immediate future would hold—good, bad or indifferent. “It’s . . . logical,” she finally said.

  Savage picked up the lack of confidence in her tone. “But?”

  She shrugged. “It’s still a fifty-fifty chance.”

  “But taking into consideration the rational approach in regards to the Ankh being the symbol representing the Key of Life—logically speaking, of course—then turning the Key in a clockwise direction makes the most sense here. Don’t you concur?”

  Savage had to agree. Eden was filled with riddles—and sometimes riddles within riddles. But everything seemed to fit . . . logically speaking.

  “OK,” said Savage. “If we’re going to move on, if this place has something more to show us, then I’m sure turning this structure is the key to opening the next gateway or passage.”

  Hillary walked around the Ankh, admiring it. “Of course I’m a man of age who does not have the strength.” He let this hang like bait, which Demir quickly accepted.

  “My men are more than capable,” he said. Then he motioned to two of his Berets with a hand gesture to leave their posts along the amphitheater’s wall and join them by the Ankh, both beefy soldiers with broad shoulders and thick arms, men of obvious strength. Demir then proffered orders in Turkish, speaking in a quick clip while pointing to the crystal base.

  The men quickly maneuvered into position and inserted their fingers into the indentations, the men now on their knees and looking as if they were clawing the foundation with the tips of their fingers deeply embedded inside the foot of the crystal.

  On the given command, they began to turn the Ankh in a clockwise direction, finding it immoveable at first, the men straining, the veins in their necks sticking out like cords, their teeth gritting. Then suddenly the structure started to give. The Ankh, the base, began to turn slowly with the sound of stone grating against stone, their efforts now becoming paramount as the base turned faster and with more ease, unlocking a gate, a passageway.

  Eventually the Ankh clicked in place with a sound that was loud and definite.

  The air was still and tomblike. Not a breath could be heard.

  And once again the world began to shake.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Weights and balances that could not be seen with the naked eye moved with the Key’s turn, causing stone and silica formations to shift and alter like doors opening and closing, giving entrance to new venues while sealing off others.

  The concentric circles of seating were the first to go, the rows sinking into the slanting floor until the ground surface was flush and smooth, the amphitheater now shaped like a funnel, the floor converging downward to the central point of the Ankh at a steep angle, the Ankh itself sinking into the floor, and then gone, leaving a gaping hole that was as black as pitch.

  John reached out for Alyssa and caught her by the forearm. Then he clung to her as he pressed himself against the floor, the angle not as steep by the hole, but still steep enough as her feet dangled over the edges of the maw as she kicked for purchase but found no traction. With great effort he pulled her back from the brink, away from the drop, the cordlike muscles in his arm becoming well defined.

  Hillary stayed close to the floor where the angle was almost a flat plane, his face horrifically twisted as he lay there with paralytic terror.

  Demir, however, fought for the survival of his men. He was leaning over the edge, the bottom unseen, with a soldier in the grip of each hand. The men had slipped when the Ankh broke through the floor, the silica giving beneath their feet. But Demir’s holds were beginning to weaken as his men kicked madly for the purchase of a foothold, their combining weight beginning to pull Demir over the edge.

  Savage grabbed Demir’s ankle and tried to anchor him.

  But the weight was too great. Demir was going over.

  “Don’t let go!” yelled Savage, holding Demir with one hand while pinning Alyssa down with the other. “Hang on!”

  But Demir couldn’t as the grip of one man began to slip from his grasp, the hand slowly riding down Demir’s wrist until they clung by the points of their fingertips, and then he was gone, the soldier’s arms pin-wheeling as he fell into the depths of the abyss and into darkness, his cries fading to a whisper.

  Demir reached over and took hold of the remaining soldier by grabbing the man’s wrist with both hands, and called out to Savage for assistance. “Pull me back!”

  Savage grit his teeth and made an attempt to do so, but the weight was too great, the slight angle making matters worse, like trying to keep a boulder from rolling downhill. “I can’t!”

  The hanging soldier’s eyes grew to the size of communion wafers as an undercurrent of terror coursed through him like something cold and electric.

  “Saaaavaaaage!” Demir’s struggles beginning to fail him, the man at the end of his arm growing heavy beyond imagination.

  The room continued to shake dramatically. And the men standing sentinel along the upper tier where the angle was greatest lost their footing and fell, their bodies sliding along the downward angle of the funnel-shaped floor toward the hole, their speed picking up momentum the further they slid, each man clawing for something, anything, but finding nothing. Some turned onto their bellies and scratched at the surface, each trying to slow the impetus of their slide.

  Some were able to brake, using the points of their boots to anchor them.

  Others, however, continued to pick up speed and flew off into the abyss, their screams fading to cold silence.

  When everything stilled, when everything became silent, with Savage holding onto Demir, the clinging soldier reached up and grabbed the edge with his free hand. And with adrenaline-fueled effort, he pulled himself out of the hole and laid along the edge with an arm dangling over the abyss, his chest laboring for ca
lm.

  As the commando regained himself, Demir gave a quick examination of his men and noted the sudden shift of the amphitheater’s configuration. The room had changed to something cone-shaped, the downward angles of the floor leading to the choke point of the pit’s mouth.

  By his estimate he lost four men. The one who lost his grip and the three that slid into the abyss. In a moment that lasted less than a minute, he had lost a quarter of his team. Demir slowly closed his eyes, suppressed welling emotions, and said a silent prayer for those he considered to be brothers forever lost.

  Beside him the ministers, as well as Hillary, John and Alyssa, got to their feet and aided the soldiers who were clinging to the angled siding to gainful footing along the surrounding edges of the hole.

  Eighteen were left.

  “Now what?” asked Hillary. He flashed his light against the surfaces of the room, the light reflecting off the black silica walls. There were no openings, no passageways, at least nothing that he could see. The wall had shifted when the amphitheater closed the doorway where they had entered.

  There was no way out.

  “Four men,” was Demir’s response. It was a whisper meant only for him as he cast his eyes into the abyss. “Good men.” But the mention did not go unheard.

  Savage knew exactly what Demir was feeling, the moment of remorse. It was never easy to lose men under one’s command.

  Demir, however, regained himself by raising his chin and straightening his back, the showmanship of a strong leader when situations were not always at their best.

  “Now what?” Hillary repeated, wanting to be heard like a child spoiling for attention. “There’s no way out.”

  Savage walked the circular edge that surrounded the void. “There is a way out,” he said.

  Hillary looked into the hole, then at Savage. “Are you crazy? That’s a bottomless pit.”

  Savage raised his forefinger and waved it, as if admonishing Hillary but making a point instead. “It’s an opening,” he answered. “And it’s the only one in the room.”