by David Wood
“Time to die,” Stefan whispered.
“You’ve got bad breath, pal,” Maddock muttered. He thrust his head forward, driving his forehead into Stefan’s nose. Letting go with his right hand, he grabbed the man by the hair and drove his head forward, butting him in the face again. He felt blood on his face and knew that it was not his own. A fierce tremor rattled the ground beneath them, and Maddock felt Stefan’s footing give. Another blow and now Stefan was pushing away from him. Maddock gave the man a shove, reaching back for the sword as his assailant stumbled backward.
Stefan recovered himself quickly. The man’s face was a mask of blood, and he fixed Maddock with a crazed, broken-toothed grin as he came forward, knife at the ready.
Maddock brought the sword free, swinging it in a sharp, downward arc. He heard Stefan scream as the sword parted hand from wrist. The dark-clad man reeled, staggering blindly toward the edge of the pathway. Maddock sprung toward him, delivering a vicious kick to the small of Stefan’s back, and sending him crashing into the water. Maddock watched as the current swept him away. He turned to find Atiq waiting for him, hands folded across his chest.
“Thanks for the help,” Maddock muttered, letting the sword hang down by his side.
“You were doing fine on your own,” Atiq said. He turned and walked toward the glowing object. “Come.”
Maddock followed, his eyes fixed on the apparition before him. As the light touched him, his cares seemed to drain away. All thoughts of the fight with Stefan, his concerns about escaping the underground temple, all evaporated as he marveled at the sight before him.
The light that radiated from the white sphere touched him as if it had substance. His pace slowed. He felt as if he were swimming in a sparkling stream of mother-of-pearl light. Overcome with wonder, he shuffled along the path. He scarcely noticed that he was now trailing the tip of the sword along the stone walk.
“It is all right, Mr. Maddock,” Atiq said calmly, “come inside.” The old man stood at the door, beckoning to him. Maddock took another slow step forward.
Stefan clutched the huge stone with all of his remaining strength, straining against the force of the current that threatened to drag him to his death. The tremor had jarred loose a sizable portion of the tunnel roof, blocking his descent over the falls and into the pit below. He lay motionless as first the old man, then Maddock passed only meters away. The rock lay between them, and the half-light in this portion of the tunnel rendered him nigh invisible. When the two men moved out onto the walkway that extended above the yawning abyss, he knew that he was safe.
Holding on tight with his left hand, he kicked hard, struggling to pull himself up. He gained an inch, then another. Soon, he was able to hook his right arm over the rock. The cold water had slowed his heartbeat, but blood continued to flow from the stump where his right hand had been. He pulled with both arms now, and felt the jagged stone tear through the fabric of his clothing and cut into his exposed flesh. He struggled forward, inching closer to the path in the middle of the passageway.
He felt no pain, only rage. For the first time, he had failed. His team had been picked apart by the old man’s henchmen. The sword was beyond his reach now. He could not hope to recover it unarmed and in his present condition. His all-consuming goal now was to live long enough to obliterate the unholy sphere, Maddock and the sword along with it. He would cleanse this pagan sanctuary with holy fire.
Chapter 31
Maddock walked slowly into the glowing sphere, scarcely noticing the bars that seemed to envelop him like a porcelain web. In the center lay a rectangular slab of the opalescent stone. But it was what lay atop the block that drew his attention.
A huge skeleton lay in full repose. Its form was vaguely human, but with a broader chest and a tiny waist. Sturdy arm and leg bones spoke of powerful muscles. Its skull was like that of a human, but with a higher forehead. The face was like an inverted triangle, ending in a narrow chin. Spread out on either side of the body, curving up above the head and sweeping down below knee level was a lacework of delicate bones.
“He has wings,” Maddock whispered. Even in death, the creature was both beautiful and terrible. He felt strangely serene in its presence. He stood silently for a moment.
“So, the Devil is dead?” he finally asked.
Atiq laughed and placed a hand on Maddock’s shoulder. “A common misconception. Lucifer was a sinner like the rest of us.” The old man paused, scratching his bearded chin. “Well, not like the rest of us, but a sinful creature still. Over time, his story became intertwined with theology, resulting in the Satan story that many people believe in today.”
“How did Goliath come by the sword?” Maddock asked. It was all so confusing. “Did Rienzi know about…this?” He could not tear his eyes from the amazing creature before him.
“Tradition holds that Goliath found this place. Claiming descent from the Nephilim, he believed that it was his destiny to wield the sword. He and his brothers built their tombs in the rock above, in imitation of the upper chambers. The false wall, with the carvings of the Philistine giants, was built to conceal their resting place, with the sword as the key. Sometime after the death of King David, the sword was recovered and buried with Goliath.”
“Behold, I saw a star fall from heaven to earth, and he was given the key of the shaft of the bottomless pit,” Maddock whispered. He did not know how he managed to recall that bit of scripture, but in this situation it seemed to fit.
Atiq nodded and continued. “Centuries later, the Nabataeans rediscovered the temple. The sword was returned to this place, Goliath’s cavern walled up, and the Protectors formed to guard the wonders of the temple. Sadly, as Petra’s importance diminished, so did the diligence of the Protectors. When word of Rienzi’s claims reached the Protectors, they verified the loss of the sword. They reconstructed the exterior wall, which Rienzi had broken through and reaffirmed their commitment to protecting the temple. My grandfather’s great-grandfather was one of those Protectors.”
Maddock drew his gaze away from the dead angel and stepped to the edge of the sphere. He looked down into the blackness beneath. The walls of the cavern plunged straight down, vanishing into the depths. The river that poured over the edge fell silently in a sparkling curtain of droplets. He could certainly understand why they called this the bottomless pit. Wherever the bottom was, it was a long way down. “So that isn’t hell, down there?” He turned back to see Atiq shaking his head. “Why did you want me to see this?”
“I sense in you a need to believe in something.” The elderly man paused as if expecting Maddock to say something. When no answer was forthcoming, he continued. “I do not expect to change your life in one moment, Mr. Maddock. I do have a question, though. Do you now believe that God is real?”
Maddock gritted his teeth. He looked back at the skeletal remains of the angel, of Lucifer, and then back to Atiq. “I don’t know what I believe,” he admitted, speaking slowly in order to choose his words carefully. His mind was still struggling to come to grips with all that he had seen and experienced. “But I’m more inclined to believe now than I was an hour ago.” He looked again at the mythical seraph, and then stepped over to where the body lay. Raising the sword, he took one long, last look and laid it gently, respectfully on the surface of the stone. It was home.
Atiq nodded sagely. His brown eyes narrowed, and he raised his chin and fixed Maddock with an appraising look. “I wonder, when you leave this place, will you tell of what you have seen?”
Maddock thought for a minute, and then shook his head. He could not put words to it, but the very thought of sharing this place with the world felt wrong. The experience was too… intimate was the only word that came to mind.
“I believe you,” Atiq said softly. “I should have you killed for what you have seen, but I cannot do that to the man who returned the sword. Come, I will show you the way out.”
Maddock saw the man turn, and then stiffen as if frozen.
Stefan
stood in the doorway, his olive skin pallid from immersion in the icy water. His right arm hung limply at his side, blood oozing from the stump and pooling on the stone by his right foot. His shredded pants revealed scraped and bleeding flesh. His black shirt was rent. What Maddock saw beneath it made his eyes bulge. A wide, gray swath of neoprene was wrapped around Stefan’s abdomen, holding in place a device that was obviously a bomb.
“I told you,” Stefan whispered, his voice slurring from cold and loss of blood, “I wanted you to know who it was that was killing you. I have come to complete the task.” His left hand moved sluggishly toward the bomb strapped to his body. “Behold,” he said, his eyes glassy and his speech deliberate, “I open the scroll and break the seal.”
“You will not!” Atiq screamed. Springing forward at a speed Maddock would not have thought the old man capable of, he was on Stefan before the injured assassin could react, forcing him out of the doorway and back onto the walk.
Maddock watched as the two men as if in slow motion, tumbled over the edge, and into the emptiness below. He opened his mouth to call out, but Atiq was gone.
Stefan’s mind was playing tricks on him. He seemed to be floating in darkness. A gentle breeze blew his hair. Where was he? What had he been doing? He thought for a long moment, and then remembered. His numb fingers sought the number pad on the side of the bomb. The Bringer of Holy Fire, as he now thought of it. He found it difficult to concentrate. The floating sensation was growing uncomfortable, and he was feeling dizzy. Deliberately, he punched in the five-digit code, then pressed the hot button.
The walkway beneath Maddock trembled, and the sphere rocked sickeningly from one side to the other. Another tremor, he thought. Then he saw, far below him, a faint orange glow appear in the depths of the pit, glowing brighter. He turned and dashed back up the walkway toward the underground tunnel. He felt the bridge that connected Lucifer’s prison to the path in the river begin to give. He stumbled and fell down on all fours. He scrambled to his feet, then felt his footing slip as the stone rampart slowly fell away from the rock wall. He leaped up, extending his arms as far as he could reach, and grunted as his fingers caught the edge of the stone path where the walkway had broken free. He felt the stone collapse beneath him. Clinging by his fingertips, he looked back to watch as the final resting place of the rebellious angel dropped noiselessly into the bottomless pit. Lucifer had finally joined his comrades in arms.
The entire pit shook harder, and a wave of hot, dry air swept up the shaft, engulfing him. A hollow rumble rolled up on its heels. The river rushed angrily by on both sides. He felt the froth on his face. The cool spray seemed to give him a renewed surge of energy. Maddock’s feet scrabbled against the rocky surface of the cavern, seeking a toehold. He gained a footing and pushed up, getting first his arms over the edge, then his chest. Finally, he lay sprawled face down on the cold stone. He was spent but knew he had to run.
As he regained his feet, a wave of heat coursed through the tunnel, searing his back. An intense, golden glow illuminated the passageway. The tunnel shook. He dodged to the left as a large block of a stone dislodged from the ceiling and came crashing down alongside him. He staggered forward, feeling the rock beneath his feet shift. The pathway was breaking up!
The rumbling grew louder as the ground heaved, and the river flowed over the broken ground. Icy waves crashed over the undulating pathway, nearly sweeping his feet from under him. He reeled forward, the glow from the flames scarcely evident this far down the passage. He gasped for breath. The fire was sucking the oxygen out of the tunnel. Only a frantic, desperate desire to live kept him on his feet as the stone crumbled beneath him.
The ground gave way beneath his left foot, and he dropped to one knee, cold water lapping over his leg. He staggered to his feet again, only to feel the path below him fall away. As he fell, a strong hand grasped him by the back of his collar.
He dangled in midair, the front of the shirt cutting off his wind. Whoever had hold of him was not strong enough to pull him up; at least not with one hand. Maddock reached up and felt for a handhold. His fingertips found a rung like the ones he had used to climb into the tunnel. He grabbed hold and pulled up with all of his remaining strength. The added lift of his rescuer was enough to vault him up and into a dark passage.
“That’s twice I’ve fished you out of the river,” Bones voice’ sounded in the darkness. “Come on.”
Dazed and unable to believe how close he had come to death, and how fortunate he was to be alive, Maddock let himself be hauled to his feet by the back of his belt. Someone slid beneath his right shoulder and wrapped a slender arm around his waist. Kaylin! His two companions half-carried, half-dragged him down the passageway. The rumbling continued unabated, the tunnel shaking all the while. Apparently, Stefan’s bomb had exacerbated the seismic activity in the area.
They rounded a bend, and the tunnel glowed faintly in the light of a single glowing stone set high in the wall. Through the dust raised by the tremors, Maddock could barely see Bones’ face.
“We came back up the third tunnel,” Bones explained, pausing often to gasp for breath. “It branches off in several places, and we had to try them all. Kaylin thinks that one of them leads to the blocked passage you two found yesterday. Anyway, it isn’t too much farther to the well.”
“It better not be,” Maddock gasped. “I don’t have much left.” The earth trembled again, and Maddock staggered to his right. He heard Kaylin grunt as she slammed into the side wall.
“I’m fine,” she said. “Keep moving.”
They turned another corner, and Maddock could see that the tunnel ended up ahead. He felt the damp cool of the well shaft and smelled the moist air. Both were welcome to his senses.
Reaching the end of the tunnel, Bones pointed to the handholds in the wall of the well. “You first,” he said. “Don’t argue with me, Maddock!” he shouted as Maddock opened his mouth to protest.
Maddock saw there was no point in arguing. He found two handholds and a foothold and began his ascent. He did not bother to look up. The memory of his fall down the well was fresh in his mind, and he knew how deep it was. Tired as he felt, if he were to actually see how far he had to climb, he would be tempted to give up and let himself fall back into the cool, inviting arms of the river.
One handhold at a time, one foot at a time, he scaled the cold, slick stone wall. Twice, he nearly lost his grip as the well shaft undulated with the tremors. Both times, Kaylin’s voice spoke from beneath him.
“If you fall, I fall too,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone. “No pressure.”
Maddock climbed higher. Pieces of the well shaft broke away as the underground complex continued its collapse. Chunks of rock struck him on the head and arms, but he no longer felt pain. He wanted to live.
He was surprised when he finally reached for a handhold and found only air. He was so taken aback, in fact, that he nearly lost his remaining hand grip. Clutching the edge of the well, he drew himself up and over the side, and fell heavily to the floor. With the last of his strength, he stood and offered a helping hand first to Kaylin, then to Bones. Arms linked, the three of them ran from Goliath’s tomb.
The bright morning sun was a shock to Maddock’s eyes as he stumbled out into the daylight. The dry, dusty air burned his nostrils. A number of diggers were gathered outside the tomb, and they stared in astonishment as the friends appeared from within the heaving bowels of the earth. The shock wore off quickly, and several of them rushed forward to lead Maddock and his friends away from the collapsing tomb.
A safe distance away, Maddock turned and fell heavily to the ground. He sat and watched as a cloud of dust poured forth from within the stone sepulchre. With a final heave, the entire plateau fell in upon itself.
He stared in numb disbelief. The sword was gone. Meriwether was gone as well, with naught to mark his passing but a pile of rock. There was no tomb, no temple. It was as if none of it had ever been there. As far as Maddock was concerned, tha
t was the case.
EPILOGUE
The sun shone bright across the green expanse of Arlington cemetery. The white headstones, arrayed with military precision, gleamed like polished buttons on a uniform. Many considered it an honor to be buried here. Bones, of course, thought it was bland and lacked the individuality that he so valued. He had already planned his own memorial and intended his cremated remains to be sprinkled into ashtrays at his favorite Vegas casinos and adult entertainment establishments.
Maddock had warned Bones that he had better produce offspring because Maddock was not about to carry out those final wishes. The picture of himself at eighty years old, tottering through a strip club with a bag of ashes in one hand and a cane in the other nearly made him smile.
Returning his thoughts to the present, he watched in silence as the honor guard folded the flag and presented it to Melinda Wells, Meriwether’s granddaughter and only living relative. She accepted it with a firm nod of thanks.
She’s got her grandfather’s spirit, Maddock thought. As the uniformed men and women marched away, his gaze fell on the small mound of earth where they had interred Meriwether’s dog tags, along with an urn containing the ashes of Rienzi’s Bible.
The minister, a short, stocky young fellow with a voice much too big for his body, said a few words, none of which came close to doing justice to so fine a man. He closed with the Lord’s Prayer.
When the mourners were dismissed, Maddock turned to leave. Bones caught his eye long enough to indicate that he planned to stay with Melinda for a while longer. Maddock nodded and turned to find Kaylin waiting for him. She stood with her hands on her hips and a slight, upturned smile on her face, tempered only by the solemnity of the occasion.
“What?” Maddock asked.
“I saw you back there,” she said, a mysterious look in her eyes. “You were praying, weren’t you?”
