“Okay, I'm game for conducting a séance. It's as good a way as any to spend the last hour of my life.” Holstering his gun, Johnny followed Mike.
The sergeant stood quietly at the edge of the chamber while Mike guided Shalira to the foot of the effigy. Annoyed at himself, Mike realized he was averting his eyes from the statue’s cold face. “What we want to see will be a spark of red light,” he explained over his shoulder to Johnny.
“Right.” Thumbs hooked in his belt, leaning on the wall, his cousin made no effort to keep his skepticism from showing.
“Ready, Shalira?” Mike squeezed her hand as she nodded. “Then let's go for it.” He stepped away but stayed close enough to catch her if she became light-headed.
“I hear the doubt in your voice, Sergeant Danver, but channeling the powers and spirits is my gift,” she said. Not waiting for a response, she began a low-pitched chant. She extended her arms, hands palms up in supplication, as before.
This time her song droned on for three or four minutes, endlessly repeating the same phrases, but there was no answer whatsoever. The effigy remained uncaring, cold stone, no soft sighs disturbing the air. Shalira broke off mid-verse, swallowed hard, began singing again, her concentration obviously slipping under the strain. Choking a bit, she compressed her lips, shaking her head. Hands on the edge of the bier, head down, breathing hard, she said, “Mother, much as I regret disturbing your rest twice, I need your help. Please.”
Mike caught a whiff of intoxicating perfume which hadn’t been present before, so intense it robbed his lungs of the already scarce oxygen, leaving him dizzy and short of breath. A dim red spark flickering between the fingers of the statue caught his attention. “Keep trying,” he whispered. “I think this idea is going to work.”
Echoing through the chamber, a loud crack heralded intense shaking as if an earthquake had begun. Thrown forward, Shalira struck her head a glancing blow on a corner of the bier and fell lifelessly to the floor. Mike tottered against the rolling ground and managed to pick her up, checking the pulse at the base of her throat.
“She's alive.” Eyes narrowed, he glared into the face of the statue, locking eyes with it. “Come on, don't condemn your daughter to die in here. Don't let the empress win—show us the goddamn way out.”
As if spurred by his curse, the ground below his boots heaved. Mike put out a hand to steady himself and his precious burden against the bier. Touching the cold stone, his fingers burned as if doused in acid and he yanked his hand back. Red sparks flew from the edges of the bier, whirling together like a dust devil, higher and higher, drawing his attention to meet the eyes of Lindia.
There was intelligence in those eyes this time.
He could have sworn Lindia’s effigy blinked. Her lips struggling to say something, the beautiful face shifted and shimmered, as if someone or something was trying to animate the cold stone into a semblance of life.
“Just—show—us—the way—OUT,” he said, hardly able to form intelligible words, horrified by what he was seeing, “and we'll leave you to your peace.”
The red sparks flew, crashing against the wall next to a white-faced, open-mouthed Johnny, promptly winking out. After one more paroxysm, the ground was quiet.
Mike stole a glance back at the statue and he felt as if his heart stopped beating for a moment.
Instead of gazing straight ahead so anyone entering the tomb would immediately see the image of Lindia full in the face, the statue's head was now turned in the direction of the western wall, where the sparks had flown to mark a destination only she’d known.
Carrying the princess, Mike retreated, one cautious step at a time, eyes locked on the statue, until he felt the wall at his back and Johnny's hands catching at his arm.
“Lords of Space, what the hell happened? Did you see–”
Mike shook his head impatiently. “Not now.”
“Yeah, maybe not ever,” Johnny agreed, swallowing hard.
Mike issued orders. “Saium, take the princess. Johnny, get the torches.”
“There's nothing here,” Johnny said a moment later, as they brought the waning light from the torches to bear on the section of wall indicated by the sparks. Even when he focussed with his special night vision, the surface appeared to hold nothing more remarkable than the intricate paintings of leaves and flowers and the latticework of the gazebo. Mike ran his hand over the fresco as high as he could reach, to the low roof, and then bent to examine the floor.
“Don't worry about singeing my hair. I've got to see.” Mike motioned for his cousin to bring the torch closer.
“Found it.” He pointed at a small, floor-level button in the wall, painted over as if intended to pass for the center of one of the lavender flowers. Without the guidance of the red sparks, he probably never would have found it, as the small disk was set flush with the stone. Glancing at his companions for a moment, Mike gave the button a push.
He stumbled out of the way, his Special Forces reflexes saving him as part of the floor slid back with a snap, revealing an endless flight of stone stairs. He wasted no time in jubilation over the proof of his theory. “Johnny, take point. I'll bring up the rear. Saium, can you manage the princess?”
Nodding, the older man adjusted her slight weight in his arms. “Of course. But we’ve got to take the saddlebag with the tribal insignia. We must not go without those.”
“Right.” Mike crossed to the other side of the chamber, keeping as much distance between himself and the statue as possible. Glass crunched under his boot as he retrieved the bag. Glancing down, he saw shards of the vial that had contained Shalira’s magic eye potion. With some vague idea of having a scan run on the substance, once he was home in the Sectors, he carefully selected two of the largest pieces and also scooped up the chipped emerald stopper. Tucking them into the saddlebag, he ran to join his impatient companions.
With Johnny in the lead, the group descended the long flight of slippery, damp steps.
CHAPTER FIVE
There were fifty-two stairs leading into the stygian gloom. For lack of anything better to occupy his mind, Mike counted them as he descended. Behind him, he heard a quiet click as the trapdoor sealed off their escape.
“These stairs better be taking us somewhere good, folks,” he said, “because the door just closed, and we don't know where the switch is on this side.”
At the bottom of the staircase, the corridor widened slightly, so at least they weren't going to be grazing their elbows. Apparently conscious his torch wouldn’t burn much longer, and not knowing how far they had to travel, Johnny set a fast pace.
Considering he was suffering most from the bad air, and had the unconscious princess to carry, Saium held up well. Mike was at the rear, saddlebag slung over his shoulder, trying not to think about how much longer his torch would burn. He walked for what seemed like an eternity, treading carefully on the uneven tunnel floor. Water dripped from the ceiling, making the surface slick in spots. Once or twice Mike heard slithering sounds behind them and even swung around abruptly with the torch, but if there were snakes in the gloom, the reptiles stayed hidden.
Finally, the tunnel sloped upward.
“Coming to another flight of stairs, folks,” Johnny warned them.
“Hold up,” Mike ordered. “Saium, can you slide over enough for me to get past?”
The older man squeezed against the stone wall. Being careful to hold his torch well out of the way Mike moved past to join his cousin. “Vreely may have thought of this, too. We'd better be careful in case he's sent someone into the emperor's tomb to wait.”
“Any bright ideas about how we're going to open the trapdoor at this end? This is so nuts anyway,” Johnny said, shaking his head. “What the hell was the emperor building tunnels for? Ghosts don't need tunnels to travel, do they?”
Mike laughed. “Nothing makes a whole lot of sense on this planet, does it? I can't remember another mission where things were so bizarre. Be glad Kajastahn thinks his ghost needs a tun
“Be my guest.” From his tightly compressed lips to the tense set of his shoulders, Johnny plainly wanted the whole episode to be over. The torch in his hand was quivering ever so slightly. His attitude indicated he would do whatever it took to get out of the tunnel, into fresh air again.
Mike climbed another long flight of stairs, hoping he wouldn’t find himself in a life-or-death fight immediately upon entering the next tomb.
No secret control devices were needed here since the practical tomb builders had installed a big lever at the top of the stairs for their own convenience. Pulling on the rough wood, Mike encountered resistance. He tugged again with greater force, awkward and one-handed. The door over his head groaned and opened about half way.
Swearing, he gave one last yank, only to stagger back clutching the broken handle in one hand while the trapdoor stayed where it was.
He called over his shoulder to those at the foot of the stairs. “We'd better get out of this tunnel in a hurry. I broke the works. If this door decides to close, we can't stop it, and we can't reopen it.”
As his companions started their ascent up the staircase, Mike lifted his torch past the threshold and cautiously peered into the gloom to reconnoiter. A giant stone bier was waiting in the center of the empty space, carved top set off to the side. From Mike's location, it was impossible to make out any features, but he had no doubt a lifelike effigy of emperor Kajastahn waited patiently to entomb its model. Illuminated in flashes as he moved the torch, murals of hunting and battle scenes met his eyes.
I saw enough of those renderings during our stay at the palace to last me a lifetime. He wasted no more time in examining the surroundings. Happy to see Vreely hadn’t covered all contingencies, Mike laid the torch aside on the floor for a minute to pull himself into the room. “All clear. Lift Shalira to me.”
He managed to get the unconscious princess out of the tunnel with a lot of difficulty, the close quarters making it hard to maneuver. Mike held her while Saium and Johnny crawled thankfully into the bigger chamber. The guardsman retrieved Mike’s abandoned torch as he entered the room.
“Apparently a duplicate of Lindia's in design,” Saium said, sweeping his torch carefully through the air. He pointed with the flaming tip. “There's the exit corridor.”
“Right,” Mike agreed. “Head for the entryway. We can plan our next move there, in fresh air and sunlight. I'll take care of Shalira, and you lug the saddlebag.”
Johnny took point again, with Mike behind and Saium bringing up the rear, huffing and puffing. Walking into the diffused sunlight of the vestibule, Mike felt his nerves unwind a bit. Johnny took up his station by the open door while Mike made the princess comfortable on her loosely woven gray cloak, the saddlebag serving as a lumpy pillow.
Satisfied he’d done all he could for now, Mike drew his gun and stepped away. “Johnny, take a recon run and see what Vreely is doing. The other tomb door ought to be closing in about fifteen minutes, so they're probably still on station.”
“You planning our own ambush?” asked the sergeant.
Checking his ammo, Mike nodded once. “Hell, yes. I'm not giving Vreely a chance to develop some other clever gambit for finishing us off.”
“Back in five.” Johnny ducked out the gaping entrance and was gone, working his way down the valley toward Lindia's tomb, taking full advantage of every bit of cover.
Mike considered where best to station Saium. “Stay here and guard the princess. If she regains consciousness while we're gone, I don't want her alone, in an unknown place.”
Hefting his gun, the guardsman frowned, bushy white eyebrows drawn together. “I owe those thugs a thing or two myself. I want to be in on the kill.”
“Someone has to stay with Shalira.” Mike wasn't prepared to yield the point.
“Someone has to stay where with me?” Clutching her head with both hands, Shalira sat up. From her expression and reluctance to move, she was expending a tremendous effort to function. Swaying dizzily, she didn’t try to stand. “I have the worst headache.”
In a heartbeat Mike was at her side, kneeling to place a steadying arm around her shoulders. “Easy now, we're safe, hidden in the vestibule to your father's tomb.”
Closing her eyes, she licked her dry lips. “What happened to me?”
“You banged your head on your mother’s sarcophagus and you've been out like a light ever since. You may have a concussion, so I want you to lay back and rest easy.” He helped her to recline, smoothing the saddlebag under her head into a more comfortable pillow.
“My mother’s spirit showed you the secret passage?” she asked.
Mike didn’t answer right away, not wanting to relive any part of the last scene in the tomb, nor try to explain what happened, not even to Shalira.
Fortunately, Johnny came sliding back into the entrance. “The vultures are sitting in the valley, apparently counting the minutes till the door slams, trapping us.” He peered into the gloom, eyes narrowed as he realized Shalira had regained consciousness. “Glad you’re back in the land of the living, Your Highness.”
“Thank you, Sergeant Danver. Michael, what are you going to do?” She half-rose on one elbow and clutched at his arm as he made to rise from where he was kneeling at her side.
Gently, he disengaged his sleeve from her grasp. “We're going to deliver some payback, exact a little justice on your behalf and ours. Stay here, out of harm’s way until I return.”
If he expected any protest, he didn't get it. The idea they might fail and Vreely's men might find her apparently didn't even occur to the princess. Merely nodding her agreement to stay in the vestibule, she closed her eyes. “Be careful, please, all of you.”
“Vreely had his chance at me, and he missed it,” Johnny said. “He ain't getting another opportunity, my word on it.”
Leading the others from the tomb, Mike moved from the cover of one boulder to the next, ducking behind stands of the impenetrable rollweeds as he worked his way down the valley toward Lindia's tomb. Johnny and Mike had been doing this kind of thing ever since they played kids’ games on their home planet and then on a life-or-death basis in the last twenty years as Sectors Special Forces operators on countless worlds. Vreely had no idea of the vengeance that was coming his way.
Saium kept up easily, noiselessly, apparently drawing on the skills he’d learned as a boy in forests and mountains of Mahjundar.
After a few minutes, Mike reached a position to the side and behind Vreely and his men, who were in a half circle facing away from them, all guns trained on Lindia's open tomb.
Nudging Mike's arm, Johnny pointed with his chin, to a spot beyond the horses. A small bundle of colored rags lay there in a broken heap. “The maid,” he whispered, face drawn in grim lines.
Mike nodded, continuing his assessment of the soldiers. “Waiting for us to make a last break. Not too worried about the outcome, either, judging by the careless way they're handling their weapons and joking around.”
“They're in for a surprise.” Showing his teeth in a feral grin, Johnny didn’t try to disguise his eagerness to engage the enemy.
“Vreely's mine,” Mike said, taking careful aim. “On the count of three.”
At the last second, the Mahjundan major moved and Mike's bullet only grazed his shoulder. Johnny and Saium were more fortunate, killing their first targets. The remaining six soldiers dove for cover behind rocks and returned fire. Saium picked off the one closest to the tomb when the man overconfidently ducked out to try for a quick shot.
“Going to be a standoff unless we get the drop on them again somehow,” Johnny said, picking off a soldier who rashly tried to streak for better cover. “Mike, let's you and me work our way up the valley wall, try to get behind them.”
A fusillade from the empress's guardsmen sent rock splinters flying from the top of the boulder sheltering Mike. Immediately, Saium popped up and answered the fire, ducking to safety as another concentrated round of incoming imploded where he’d been seconds before.
Mike holstered his gun. “You're right. This could go on all day if we don't outmaneuver them. Saium, lay down covering fire while we try to outflank them.”
Taking the guardsman’s agreement for granted, he and Johnny slunk into the tall grass and boulders, going toward the temple, far enough away to get out of Vreely's direct line of sight, before climbing the steep slope unseen by the Mahjundans. Mike found it fairly easy to work his way across the top of the cliffs without being spotted. Settled in behind a big red rock, Saium shot often enough to keep Vreely’s troops pinned down. Mike’s plan called for the decoy to keep any of the soldiers from making an escape.
Vreely evidently decided Mike had to be out of ammunition or else trying some kind of flanking maneuver. Suddenly, he and his remaining four men made a concerted rush for the tethered horses. Mike and Johnny shot from their new location high on the valley wall. Rising, Saium started blazing away. Only Vreely managed to get to the mounts. He ducked under one, tugged the reins free and, keeping the horse’s bulk between him and the attackers, rode at a breakneck speed toward freedom.
Keeping his balance somehow, Mike slid down the steep hill, gun in hand. He half rolled to a stop next to the thoroughly spooked horses, and stood. Yanking the reins off the tether line, he mounted the black stallion and galloped after Vreely.
The assassin had a head start, but the black horse was faster. Mike was gaining ground easily. As soon as he came into the limited range of the local weapons, he shot, but missed. Vreely returned fire as the horses swerved around the next bend of the valley. Stinging along Mike’s cheek signaled the enemy had scored a near miss.
As the half-ruined temple came into sight a few hundred yards ahead, Mike urged his horse to greater speed. Once Vreely’s out of the valley, he could go to ground anywhere and I won’t be able to spare the time to hunt him down. Can’t let him escape to carry tales to the empress. Trying to accelerate in response to Vreely's furious goading with his spurs, the other horse stumbled on a patch of gravel, collapsing with a frightened whinny. Mike rode at full gallop, leaning on the stallion's neck to obscure his quarry’s field of fire. The Mahjundan fought to free himself from the stirrups, rising and getting off one more shot as Mike dismounted in a spray of gravel from his horse's abrupt stop. The bullet whizzed by his head and Mike didn’t give the enemy another chance to kill him, firing at point-blank range.
-->
