The God Extinction

by Kevin Tumlinson

  Kotler was watching the man’s face. “Let them go,” he said, nodding to Denzel and Maalyck. “Let everyone go. Clear the camp, and I will show you exactly how to get in.”

  Sarraf was watching Kotler’s face. He nodded and turned to Ammon. He reached for the sword, which Ammon handed over, a baffled expression on his face.

  Sarraf held up the sword, inspecting it. He raised it, looking at it in the morning light. He glanced back to Kotler, and then suddenly turned and thrust the blade forward.

  “No!” Kotler shouted.

  Denzel stood, frozen, looking at the wild insanity in Sarraf’s eyes.

  He looked down to the blade.

  Dr. Maalyck was hunched, his eyes wide, his hands raised to clasp the blade that penetrated his midsection. He looked up to Kotler, then slowly tilted, falling to the ground. Blood was already pooling around him, soaking into the soil.

  Kotler tried to rush forward, but one of Sarraf’s men slammed him with the butt of his rifle, then aimed his weapon at Kotler’s head.

  Kotler stumbled, and with Nesahor’s help, he managed to stand again. He looked at Maalyck, who lay curled and bleeding on the ground.

  Sarraf raised the blade again, this time bringing the point of it to Denzel’s throat.

  Denzel glared at him.

  “Please,” Kotler said. “I’ll open the door. Just … please …”

  Sarraf turned and faced Kotler, smiling. He handed the sword back to Ammon who immediately began cleaning the blade with his own shirt, almost frantic in his motions. “You might have damaged it!” he shouted.

  “It was made for blood,” Sarraf said. “Now, Dr. Kotler, if you will?” He motioned to the gate, beyond which was the path leading to the chamber where Credne’s door awaited.

  Kotler led the way, and Denzel was shoved along behind him.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Kotler struggled up the path, his legs still a little rubbery after the previous night’s ordeal. His entire body ached, but he was starting to loosen up. Adrenaline was fueling him now.

  Martook, he grieved. He didn’t dare look back down. Sarraf and his men were driving them forward, and any hesitation was met with brutal assault.

  Ammon had stepped in beside Kotler and chatted inanely as they made their way up the stone path.

  “This find is really quite remarkable,” he said, almost as if he were merely conversing with a colleague, rather than a prisoner. “The Alihat Iadida consider this to be a prime site, in the study of the gods. The door to the Otherworld! Quite exciting.”

  Kotler said nothing but concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. He also made a concerted effort not to fling himself at Ammon and dash the man’s head against the rocks. It might have been worth it, to take a bullet from Sarraf’s men, just to see Ammon bleeding and dying on the ground the way Maalyck was down below. But in that event, Denzel and all the people in the research camp were bound to die as well. Kotler kept moving.

  The trek up the mountainside took longer than Kotler would have liked, but by the time they reached the entrance to the Credne vault he was almost grateful for the exercise, as his body limbered, and his strength returned. While his convalescence in the camp had been brief, he’d gotten plenty of fluids and calories. He’d even managed solid food before Nesahor accompanied him to the gate.

  Kotler had tried to talk Nesahor out of going. He’d practically ordered the man to stay behind, using all the authority he could muster as the lead at this site. He explained that this was likely to be a one-way trip. Nesahor would be in danger, perhaps even be killed.

  “You say that they plan to kill everyone in this camp,” Nesahor replied. “I would prefer to die while doing something, rather than be herded and shot like cattle.”

  Kotler couldn’t fault him for that. Though it did raise certain questions about whether they should inform the rest of the camp of what was happening. Ultimately Kotler had decided that it would cause undue panic and, worse, possibly accelerate Sarraf’s timetable. He hated leaving anyone ignorant of what was to come—it gnawed at him. He would want to know. He would want to be able to prepare. But time was as much his enemy as it was theirs.

  Kotler consoled himself with the hope that he could figure a way to stop all of this and to save all of them. Somehow.

  The entrance to the Credne vault was a ragged gap in the mountainside, widened by the research team to allow for easier passage, but otherwise nearly in the same condition as the day it was found. The vault had once been concealed behind a large stone that had to be rolled away, with considerable effort. After the discovery of the entrance, handrails and even stairs and walkways had been installed, as well as runs of cables for light and power. There was a ventilation system pumping fresh air into the space as needed.

  They moved deeper into the mountain, and Kotler was taken for a moment by the presence of light.

  Looking up he saw that at irregular intervals there were shafts in the stone—some of which were natural chimneys formed as part of the cave system here, and some were apparently carved by whoever built the vault. Embedded in these shafts were large blocks of polished quartz, most about the size of a fist, but some as large as Kotler’s head, or perhaps a bit larger.

  Kotler had seen shafts such as these before, twenty years earlier, as he and Martook Maalyck—at that time only a young boy—had explored the brass hall of Credne. The builders of this site had turned practically the entire mountain into a temple of sorts, with a network of chambers, vaults, and halls woven into the stone here and sealed away for millennia. The builders were ingenious and innovative in their designs. It made Kotler wonder at their level of technology.

  Boring through the stone of the mountain was no mean feat. Doing so by hand wasn’t impossible, but it presented challenges that made it seem improbable. All of it required a level of thought and consideration and planning that was beyond anything modern archaeologists attributed to the cultures of the period.

  The mechanisms that protected the brass hall and the Credne door were impressive. They hinted at technical proficiency and advancement on a level much higher than anyone would expect. And they hinted at a culture and civilization that operated at a higher level than anything that the archaeological community thought possible.

  Kotler was part of a school of thought, within the archaeological community, that believed there was a culture that came before recorded history. A technologically advanced culture with capabilities that seemed like magic to the generations that followed, and a lost civilization, erased from history, with only scant traces remaining.

  The gods, Kotler believed, and the mythologies of the world, all stemmed from this lost civilization. There were too many coincidences, too many commonalities for it to be anything else. Somehow a civilization at least equal to the modern world had come and gone and left barely a trace of itself.

  Except, of course, for sites such as this one.

  The Credne vault was filled with artifacts and objects that were tantalizing in their implications. Kotler would have enjoyed digging in here, examining everything to see how the pieces fit. He wanted to explore and discover.

  It would have to wait. He hoped he would live long enough to get the chance.

  “The door is this way,” Ammon said, his voice tinged with excitement.

  Kotler wanted to strangle him. But he couldn’t fault him for his enthusiasm. Despite the circumstances, this really was an incredible thing to consider. They were about to open a door that had remained shut for thousands of years. A door that, by all indications, opened to an entire world of new and ancient things to explore.

  The Otherworld.

  Kotler wasn’t sure what this would turn out to be, or what he expected. But it had the weight of something that might alter the course of history, and despite their circumstances that made him excited.

  They came to the door. The face of Credne, his eyes closed, met them like a guardian looming over the chamber. Kotler was shoved t
oward it by one of Sarraf’s men.

  “Open it,” Sarraf ordered.

  Kotler looked back to see Sarraf and Ammon standing in the foreground, with Nesahor to their side. Beyond them, Denzel stood between the two guards, his hands cuffed in front of him.

  This was it. Time to get to work.

  Kotler huffed and faced them.

  “First,” he said, “I’m going to need you to turn off the lights.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Sarraf stepped forward, pressing a gun to Denzel’s head, ordering Kotler to open the door right that instant or the agent would die.

  Kotler held up his hands, preparing to explain, but was relieved when Ammon intervened. “I have seen this,” he said to a wary Sarraf. “There is light, from a shaft above.” He gestured to the ceiling.

  “It is a trick,” Sarraf spat. “A distraction.”

  In the end, it was Dr. Nesahor whose quiet voice convinced Sarraf. “He is correct,” Nesahor said. “We discovered the shaft years ago, though we never ascertained its purpose. It opens when Credne’s face is pressed inward.”

  Sarraf studied Nesahor for a long moment, and to Kotler’s surprise he nodded and ordered one of his men to go and shut off the lights. The guard ran out of the chamber to the circuit box just inside the cave entrance.

  When the lights snapped off, an eerie silence also fell upon the room. The ventilation fans stopped, the hum of the motors dying as the fan blades spun down. Before the lights were shut off, Sarraf turned on a flashlight, and the wide beam of it provided enough light to allow everyone to see. He was still aiming his weapon at Denzel’s head.

  Kotler turned, examining the door, the ceiling, the floor. He reached out and pushed the face inward, and there was the sound of stone grinding and moving.

  “I need it to be dark,” Kotler said over his shoulder.

  There was a pause, and he glanced back at Sarraf. The man shook his head at first, then said, “If you try to escape, I will shoot him.” He turned to Denzel. “If you move, I will kill you without hesitation.”

  Denzel nodded, saying nothing.

  “This is necessary,” Kotler said.

  “There is a shaft for light to come into the room,” Ammon assured Sarraf, pointing to the high ceiling. “I have seen it.”

  Sarraf scowled and nodded, then turned off the flashlight.

  It took a moment for Kotler’s eyes to adjust, but soon the stream of morning sunlight seemed as bright as any flashlight beam. He glanced up at the ceiling. High above them, he surmised, was another polished quartz porthole. It allowed light to enter, and perhaps even magnified that light.

  “I need the sword,” Kotler said.

  Ammon handed it to him without hesitation, and Kotler hefted it.

  He could end Ammon right now. He might even be able to reach Sarraf before being gunned down. But Denzel would surely be killed in the scuffle.

  Kotler reluctantly let the fantasy pass, and held the sword by the hilt, balancing the flat of the blade against the fingers of his left hand. He held it parallel to the floor, aligned it, and then pressed it into the opening in Credne’s mouth.

  He pushed, using an even and steady pressure, not forcing it. In return, he felt and heard the ancient mechanism engage, though nothing seemed to happen in the room around them.

  Ammon was leaning closer, and Kotler could hear his excited breathing. He resisted the urge to shiver.

  There was a pause, and Ammon rose. “It did not work!”

  Kotler shook his head. “It worked. It just isn’t finished.”

  “Finished?” Ammon scoffed.

  Kotler reached into his pocket and removed the pommel, holding it up for Ammon to see in the light from the shaft.

  “What is this?” Ammon asked.

  “The piece you were missing,” Kotler replied.

  He turned to the sword and raised the pommel, aligning it so that he could press it into place and turn it. With a click, it locked onto the hilt of the sword, and Kotler stepped away.

  The light from the shaft struck the jewel in the pommel’s center and cast a crimson ray to the floor. Kotler and Ammon both bent to inspect it.

  “A map?” Ammon asked in awe.

  “To the Otherworld,” Kotler said, his voice just as quiet.

  He knelt and ran his fingers over the texture of the floor.

  It was indeed a map, and in combination with the pattern etched into the floor it created a sort of bass relief, almost like a 3D projection.

  Kotler recognized it.

  “This is a contour map of these mountains,” he said quietly. “Here,” he said, pointing to a particular spot. “This is where we are. This, here, is the brass hall. And these are the other sites we’ve discovered. These … we haven’t located these. This map is the key to the entire site.” He shook his head. “Incredible.”

  “But what of the Otherworld?” Ammon asked.

  Kotler detected the impatience, the growing frustration.

  “Give me a moment,” he said.

  Sarraf yanked Denzel forward, forcing him to his knees. He pressed the gun to Denzel’s head hard enough that Denzel was forced to tilt away from it. “You have ten minutes, Dr. Kotler. Open the door in that time, or I will shoot Agent Denzel in front of you.”

  Kotler held up his hands. “I’m doing my best! Please, give me time!”

  “Ten minutes!” Sarraf shouted. “Beginning now.”

  Kotler turned back to the map, studying it, trying to work out the message that the builders had intended.

  Why a map?

  The door seemed the most obvious means for gaining access to whatever the Otherworld turned out to be. Credne's face acted as a sort of guardian for it. The sword was the key. But the door remained firmly shut, and before them, all they really had was a macabre vision of Credne impaled on the sword. Death, then.

  Death.

  Kotler looked up to Credne’s face. If this was how the god had died, in some unrecorded bit of mythology, then this door really should lead to the Otherworld. If that was the case, however, then why would the builders need the map? What message were they …

  It hit Kotler then, sudden and bright.

  A message. A pattern.

  He looked again at the map on the floor and ignored the contours, focusing instead on the positioning of the landmarks. He was looking at the patterns.

  Ignoring the contours of the landscape, the placement of each of the sites in the region formed an overall pattern that Kotler recognized. Three lines—acute triangles, really—lay in parallel to each other, oriented toward three primary locations.

  “Awen,” Kotler whispered.

  “Awen?” Ammon replied.

  Kotler indicated the pattern he was seeing, tracing it with his finger.

  “Here, do you see? These sites are all aligned to a pattern. Do you … I need a piece of paper and a pen, something to draw with.”

  “Here,” Nesahor said, patting his pocket and producing a small notepad and a pencil. He handed this to Kotler, who nodded appreciatively.

  Kotler sketched a rough approximation of what he was seeing.

  He showed the drawing to Ammon and to Sarraf. “Three rays, you see? They represent three rays of light, or three flames. Those three circles represent three gods—a holy trinity. The two outer rays represent male and female. The center ray represents balance. Sort of a Celtic yin and yang. This symbol is supposed to be Neo-Druidic, traced back to the 9th century. But it may have roots even earlier than that.”

  “What does it mean?” Ammon asked quietly.

  Kotler considered, thinking about the symbol in context. “This map is supposed to lead us to the Otherworld,” he said. “It clearly reveals the secret chambers of this site.” He looked at it again, holding the paper in the light.

  “Look,” he said, after a moment.

  Ammon leaned in.

  “Three deities,” Kotler said. “Three was a significant number in Druidic culture. These rays rep
resent the balance of the sexes, but they also represent mind, body, and spirit. Also earth, sea, and sky. But notice, here …" he pointed to the drawing. "All three rays point to the center deity."

  “Is that significant?” Ammon asked.

  “I think it’s what we’re looking for,” Kotler replied. “I think this is where we’ll find the Otherworld. Not here. Not this door. This,” he motioned to the door before them, and to the chamber itself. “This is another decoy. A … a map room. Here,” he said, pointing to the floor. He put his finger on the spot where the middle deity would be, represented by one of the primary sites on the map. “We have to go here.”

  Sarraf shoved Denzel to the floor and ordered his man to cover him. The other guard had returned now, and Sarraf stepped forward, bending over the map, studying it. “I recognize this,” he said. “That area is difficult and treacherous. It has not yet been opened to exploration.” He straightened. “If you are lying …”

  "I'm not," Kotler said. "That's the place. If the Alihat Iadida wants to gain access to the Otherworld, it's going to happen there."

  Sarraf shook his head. “This will require significant resources,” he replied. “It will expose us.”

  At that moment, Dr. Nesahor stepped forward. Kotler expected to see the guards raise their weapons, or for Sarraf himself to react. But Nesahor was allowed to move freely. “It is a risk we must take,” he said to Sarraf.

  He looked to Kotler, who still knelt beside the map, confused. Slowly the truth dawned on him.

  "For the order," Nesahor said then, and turned to Sarraf. "Make the arrangements."

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  FBI Headquarters, Manhattan

  Ludlum stood with Agent Brown in what they were calling the war room—a control room allowing remote viewing of the actions happening in Egypt. They were guests of the US Department of State, on a floor of their New York offices. In addition to their FBI credentials, they wore guest badges that gave them access to select areas. Ludlum was fidgeting with this badge, hanging from a lanyard around her neck, watching as a contingent of US operatives worked in conjunction with the Egyptian military, in a raid on the Credne site.