The Doomsday Key and The Last Oracle with Bonus Excerpts

by James Rollins

  Gray hoped he was right, but the entire valley reeked of burning peat. It was a slim chance the dog could nose out the subtle seep of smoke from the subterranean fires. But what other course did they have?

  And maybe the dog did sense something. As they headed out, the terrier’s path switchbacked through the woods, with sudden stops and turns.

  Gray kept their pace to a slow trot, balancing speed and caution. The dog bounded through the snow and across an icy stream. It seemed impossible that on a night so cold, with the ground mantled in snow and ice, there could be a hellish inferno below.

  But they were reminded of just that danger as a red deer leaped past their trail, frightened by the fires. It flew sure-footedly through the trees, then bounded into a snow-filled gully. The ground gave way beneath it. Its hindquarters dropped into a fiery pit, casting up a swirl of flames and burning ash. Its neck stretched in a silent posture of agony, then its body went limp and fell the rest of the way out of sight. Smoke roiled upward. A wash of heat chased back the chill of the night.

  It was a sobering lesson.

  “Christ on a spit,” Kowalski mumbled atop his pony.

  Seichan’s arms tightened around Gray’s waist.

  As they continued through the smoky woods, new blazes grew throughout the forest as the spreading inferno lit dead trees into torches. They gave one such tree a wide berth. It was an old oak, brittle and lightning-struck. The flames danced through its white branches, a warning of the danger flowing under its roots.

  Even Rufus began to slow. He would stop often, his head swiveling, nose in the air, whining, plainly less sure. But he kept them moving, sometimes having to backtrack, dancing straight through the legs of their skittish mounts.

  Finally, though, he came to a complete standstill. It was at an old dry riverbed, a shallow declivity that wound across the way ahead. There didn’t appear to be any threat, but the dog sidled back and forth across the nearest bank. He made one tentative move down into the channel, then thought better of it and retreated. Something was spooking him. He returned to the head of their stalled line of ponies. His low whine turned into a fearful whimper.

  Shifting in his saddle, Gray stared into the woods. All around them the wildfire below had begun to crest to the surface, showing its true fiery face. Not far off, a large pine toppled into the forest, taking smaller trees with it. It crashed with a spiraling wash of flames. More and more of the woods was suffering the same fate. Whole sections were now collapsing into the burning bog, either knocked to the ground as their roots were burned away or felled by their sheer weight as the ground itself turned to fiery ash.

  They had to keep moving. The longer they waited, the worse their circumstances. They needed to reach the hills.

  “C’mon, you old cur,” Wallace urged his dog in a gentle admonishment. “You can do it, Rufus. C’mon, boy. Find us a way home.”

  The dog stared up at his master, then down at the gully. With a tremble, he sat down. He continued to shake, but his judgment was firm. There was no safe way forward.

  Gray slid out of his saddle and passed his reins to Seichan. “Stay here.”

  “What are you doing?” Rachel asked.

  Gray crossed to a mossy stone beside their trail. He had to know for sure. Bending at the knees, he hauled the rock free and lumbered to the edge of the snowy riverbed. With a swing of his arms, he heaved the stone in a low arc over the bank. It landed in the middle of the gully—and crashed through to the fiery bog below. Flames spat up. Snow melted around the edges and boiled back up with a hiss of steam.

  The hole immediately grew larger, sending out blazing tendrils. Other spots erupted along the channel. Tossing the boulder had been like throwing a stone in a pond. Fiery ripples spread outward in a cascading effect as fresh oxygen reached the buried inferno. Flames spat, and more steam rose. It spread outward, following the course of the old riverbed.

  “You had to do that,” Kowalski said. “Couldn’t leave well enough alone.”

  Gray ignored him and stepped to another stone. He dragged it up, and using his entire body, he swung and tossed the rock to the other bank. It was less than eight yards across. The stone struck the far bank and landed with a dull thud. It sat imbedded in turf and snow.

  “It’s still solid over there. If we can reach the other side …” Gray turned to Wallace. “How good are these Fell Ponies at jumping?”

  The professor eyed the fiery course. “They’re good,” he said hesitantly. “But that’s still a bloody long leap.”

  Kowalski added his assessment. “Not like we have much choice.”

  Another tree crashed deeper in the woods behind them. “Aye, that’s true,” Wallace said.

  “I’ll go first.” Gray hurried back to his mount. He raised an arm toward Seichan to help her down.

  “I’m going with you,” she said.

  “No. Our weight will only make it harder to—”

  “Do you see any free horses running around here?” Seichan snapped back, cutting him off. “I have to ride double with someone. And your stallion’s the biggest.”

  Gray realized she was right.

  He pulled up into the saddle. The others cleared to the side as he backed the horse a good distance away from the bank. “Hold tight,” Gray said.

  She obeyed, hugging her arms and pressing her cheek against his back. “Go,” she whispered.

  Tilting forward in the saddle, he kicked back and gave the reins a crack. The stallion, already bunched, as if knowing what its rider wanted, shot forward with a thunder of hooves. It accelerated into a full gallop within only a few strides.

  Gray felt the power of the stallion through the saddle. Its heaving breath streamed white behind them. Its neck stretched as it gained even more speed—then hit the bank.

  With a surge of muscle, it leaped high. Gray went weightless, lifting from the saddle with Seichan strapped tightly to him. They crested the fires. He felt the wash of heat from below.

  Then they struck the far bank.

  Gray slammed back into the saddle, catching his weight with both stirrup and skill. The stallion trotted a few paces to wean away momentum. Gray pulled on the reins and quickly turned his mount.

  Seichan still clung hard against him.

  He returned to the fiery riverbed and heaved out a sigh of relief. He waved an arm for the others to follow, not yet trusting his voice. A shudder passed through him, but Seichan’s arms held tightly.

  “We made it,” she mumbled to his back.

  The others quickly followed. Wallace came flying over with Rufus clutched in his lap. Gray had to give the old guy credit. He could definitely ride.

  Rachel came next. She backed her horse and made a smooth run for the river. Gray might have the largest pony, but Rachel had the fastest. It hit the bank, but something went wrong.

  One hoof slipped as the edge crumpled beneath it.

  Gray knew immediately there was trouble. The jump was too low, the pony’s body turned to the side.

  They would never make the far side.

  Rachel fought to keep her seat. As the mare leaped, she immediately felt the center of gravity shift under her. She clenched her legs to keep in her saddle. She pulled the reins close to her chest and leaned hard over the saddle’s pommel.

  Twisted askew, she stared straight down into the fiery heart of the wildfire. She wasn’t going to make it. The pony was already dropping. Searing heat bathed her.

  She heard cries of alarm.

  Then they hit the ground. The front hooves struck solid turf, reaching the far bank, but the mare’s hind end crashed into the smoldering edge of the river of fire.

  The impact threw Rachel flat on her stomach atop the pony. With the wind knocked out of her, she lost the reins and her footing and slid backward toward the fire.

  Beneath her, the poor mare screamed in agony and fought to kick herself free, which only stirred the flames higher.

  As she slid, Rachel caught the edge of the saddle. Fir
e burned the soles of her boots. The bucking mare, frenzied by agony, threatened to throw her off. Worse, the mare began to roll.

  “Hold on!” a voice screamed.

  She glanced up. It was Seichan. The woman dove forward and grabbed the mare’s lead. Gray came up on the other side and tried to get hold of the halter’s crownpiece.

  Together, they fought to keep the mare from rolling.

  Seichan wrapped the lead in her arms, dropped to her backside, and dug in her heels. Gray lost hold of the halter as the mare thrashed its head and screamed. He made another lunge for it.

  “Just get her!” Seichan yelled as she was dragged toward the river herself.

  It took all of Rachel’s strength to keep her grip. She felt her legs burning, pictured her pants on fire. Then fingers clamped on her wrist. Gray was suddenly there, sprawled across the mare’s withers. He yanked her forward with one arm, his other braced on the saddle’s pommel. He hauled her up to his chest, his face red and strained.

  “Climb over me!” he ordered her, staring straight at her.

  The iron resolve of those steel-blue eyes hardened through her.

  Gasping, she reached up and clutched a fistful of his coat. She pulled herself atop him, reached to his belt with her other hand, and crawled over him. At last she cleared the river’s edge and rolled off him to land on her hands and knees in the snow.

  Gray scrambled back, dropped next to her, then scooped her under one arm and half-carried her up the bank. They collapsed together into the snow. She hugged him, suddenly sobbing.

  Behind her, a gunshot blasted.

  Jerking around, she saw Seichan standing below, her back to them. She held a smoking pistol. The screams of the mare ended as its body collapsed to the ground and slid farther into the fire.

  Seichan sank to the snowy bank, cradling her pistol.

  Great.

  Still on the other side of the fiery river, Kowalski had watched Rachel’s mare stumble. Her pony still burned at the river’s edge. How was he going to make it across? His mount, a gelding, was not as tall as Gray’s stallion and not half as fast as Rachel’s mare. Plus his pony had no balls, which already made him edgy.

  Kowalski held a hand to his stomach. He really should have gone on that diet Liz was pushing.

  Gray called from the other side. “What are you waiting for?”

  Kowalski lifted one of his fingers at Gray. He patted his pony’s neck. “You can do this … right?”

  His pony tossed its head and rolled a scared eyeball at him.

  Right there with you, bud.

  He backed his pony, going a little farther, giving himself more of a running start. Still, he hesitated. The pony did, too. It refused to set, dancing its hooves nervously. They both had as much to lose.

  We just have to calm ourselves, take a moment to collect—

  A pine exploded directly behind them. It went off like a Roman candle. Flaming debris blew high, pelted the back of his coat, and struck the pony’s rump.

  Given a fiery kick, the gelding took off with a surge of adrenaline-driven muscle. Kowalski came close to falling but quickly regained his balance, riding high in the stirrups. The pony thundered under him, hit the bank, and went airborne.

  If Kowalski were braver, he would have whooped. Or if he had a cowboy hat, he might’ve waved it. Instead, he leaned down and clung tightly to his gelding with both arms.

  Below, as if knowing the last of them were escaping, the entire creekbed collapsed into an inferno of fire. Flames shot upward around them.

  Kowalski squeezed his eyes shut, bathed in searing heat.

  Then they hit the far side with a crash of hooves on solid ground. The impact threw him over his pony’s head. He went flying and landed in a snowbank. He lay on his back for a stunned breath and took inventory.

  Still alive…

  He pushed up to his elbows and gained his feet. He staggered over to his mount, both their legs still trembling. Once at the gelding’s side, he threw his arms around its neck and hugged tightly.

  “Freakin’ love you, you ball-less wonder.”

  * * *

  Twenty minutes later, the exhausted team climbed a rocky path out of the valley. Flames danced their shadows across the slope. Below, the entire valley smoldered and burned.

  Seichan, aching and bone-tired, rode behind Kowalski. She stared over at Gray and Rachel. They rode together atop his stallion. Rachel had her arms around Gray’s waist, her head on his shoulder. After the near-fatal fall, she had stayed close to Gray, drawing off his solidity and strength.

  Seichan tried not to sneer at her vulnerability.

  But she could not so easily dismiss another pang.

  She took note of how quickly the two melded together, how easily they became one. While riding double with him earlier, she had also held Gray, smelled the musk of his sweat, felt the heat of his body. But she had felt nothing more from him. She might as well have been a saddlebag.

  Yet even now, as she watched them, Gray rubbed a palm along Rachel’s arm. It was a comforting gesture, done reflexively, as he continued to keep an eye on their rocky trail.

  Seichan turned away, anger building. Not at Gray, but at her own foolishness. She remembered Kowalski’s words to her before the forest exploded. Two schoolkids with the hots for each other. She had thought she’d kept her feelings hidden better than that. But what about the man’s assessment of his partner? Could he be right about Gray?

  She allowed herself a moment to believe it to be true. But only a moment. She stared over at him and recognized there could be no future between them. The gulf was too deep and too wide.

  And it would only grow deeper and wider.

  Especially with what must happen next.

  Free of the woods, it was time she moved her plan to the next level.

  2:07 A.M.

  Gray called for a halt so they could rest and water the horses. They had reached an ice-blue tarn, one of many that dotted the region like droplets of quicksilver.

  He also wanted to check on Rachel’s burns. He had packed her lower legs with snow immediately after her mishap to draw off any residual heat. Her skin had been bright pink and a couple of spots might shallowly blister, but he wanted to double-check.

  The group slipped off their ponies. They were all saddle-sore and burned crisp around the edges. Even after clearing the fiery river, it had been a close call.

  If it hadn’t been for Rufus leading us the rest of the way out…

  Gray watched the professor fish out a piece of dried sausage and feed it to his terrier. Rufus deserved heaping platters of sausages. Still, the terrier was more than happy to get a good scratch for a job well done.

  Wallace leaned down and scrubbed his fingers along the dog’s side.

  “Good boy, you mangy mutt.”

  His tail wagged furiously.

  Even Seichan tossed Rufus a crumble of cheese as she stretched her legs. The terrier caught it deftly. He seemed to have gotten over his initial distrust of her. She wandered down to the icy tarn and stood limned by the moonlight reflecting off the water.

  Gray studied her.

  Back when Rachel had come close to falling into the flames, Seichan had been the first out of the saddle, racing to her aid. Even Gray was a half step behind her. He had never properly thanked her for her help.

  But first he had some details to attend to.

  Kowalski had started a small fire with some twigs and matches. Despite all that had happened, the night was cold and a fire was still welcome. Everyone headed toward it like weary moths to a flame.

  Gray took a moment to warm his hands. Then, with a sigh, he shrugged off his pack and dropped to his haunches. He unzippered a flap and slipped out his satellite phone.

  “Calling home?” Kowalski asked.

  “Have to update Painter. Let him know we escaped that hellhole.” As Gray lifted the phone, Seichan spoke behind him. “I don’t think so.” He turned to find her pointing a gun at his face.r />
  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “Toss me your phone.

  “Seichan…”

  “Do it.”

  Gray realized the futility of resisting. He knew how well this woman could shoot. He flipped the phone over to her. She caught it smoothly, her pistol never wavering, then lobbed the phone underhanded into the lake.

  “Time for all of us to drop off the grid,” she said.

  Gray could guess what she meant. If he never reported in, Painter would think they’d never made it out of the burning forest. It would take searchers weeks to sift through the ashes.

  But what Gray still couldn’t understand was why.

  The question must have been plain to read.

  Seichan explained. “Our goal is to find the key Father Giovanni was hunting. In the past, you’ve proved quite capable, Pierce.” She lifted an eyebrow toward Gray. “The Guild has full confidence in you.”

  Gray shook his head, kicking himself. He had suspected she might use these events to her advantage, to help her return to the good graces of her former masters—whether truly or as a double agent. Either way, he had thought she’d make her move later. He had let his guard down. But in truth, it was more than that. Fury built in him. A part of him had trusted her.

  He let some of that anger show. “How are you going to get us to cooperate? You can’t hold a gun against us the whole time.”

  “That’s true.” She holstered her pistol.

  The move made Gray even more worried. Her next words confirmed his fear.

  “That’s why I poisoned Rachel.”

  Shock silenced Gray.

  Rachel stepped forward. “What?”

  “In the tea.” Seichan didn’t even look at her. She kept her focus on Gray. “A designer biotoxin. Kills in three days. Unfortunately, symptoms will progress. Nausea, headaches, eventually the bleeding will start.”

  Rachel stammered for a moment, clearly fighting her disbelief. “But you saved my life. Out in the woods.”

  Gray understood. “She needed you alive.”

  Seichan shrugged. “There is an antidote. An enzyme specifically designed for this toxin. A lock and key, you might say. There is no other cure. And just to be clear, I don’t know what the antidote is, where it might be found, or how to obtain it. You’ll be given the antidote only when you hand over the key.”