David Sakmyster - The Mongol Objective

“Orlando?”

Overcome by need and immediacy, the fullness of the experience nearly knocked him over. No matter how many times Orlando had experienced this, it always took his breath away with its suddenness. Its raw power, colliding with his psyche, at the same instance gently gliding over his perceptions…

In light chain mail, colorful heraldic symbols blazing on their chests, the knights rise up in a victorious cheer. Under the English tower named the Lion, the men roar and taunt the fleeing soldiers of Sultan Mehmed II.

Cannons smoke and men lean against the walls, dropping their crossbows. Flags wave from the other towers, each one constructed in its own style, and the knights from Italy, Spain, France and Germany cheer each other in repelling this latest offensive. Below, the passages twisting through narrow turns and successfully defended gates bear witness to the strength of this castle’s design. The bodies of the invaders litter courtyards and lie in arrow-pierced piles on the steps.

The captain surveys the fortifications, then eyes the wounded forces retreating into the descending twilight. “They will return,” he says to his men, then points ahead to the smoking holes blown through sections of the walls by the enemy cannon.

“ We must thicken the walls facing the mainland. Take a team in the morning. Gather more stones from the Mausoleum.”

Another flash, and Orlando reeled, reaching out and scraping the flesh of his palm against a greenish-hued stone…

A different commander, with a Fleur-de-lis on his tunic, stands atop the tallest tower. He speaks in French, but the words are understood through some other means. “Suleiman will try again, and the walls are weakening. Gather more blocks from the ancient site and put them to use.”

“ There are not many stones left, Grand Master,” says a wide-eyed youth, a knight with blood spatters on his face. “But what of the statues and the reliefs? There are still more that have not been smashed or crushed for lime.”

The Grand Master considers the sprawling layout of the Castle’s interior, the blank walls, empty alcoves. “Take them as well. They deserve a place of honor.”

Orlando half-emerged from the vision, clinging to it just barely, straddling this world and the other, as he reached for the iPad.

Phoebe moved closer, crawling on her good leg, moving around his side to watch. She put a finger to her lips, stifled a gasp, and stared as he drew a chaotic battle scene-what looked like half-men, half-horse creatures savagely attacking townspeople, and getting more than a little amorous with the women.

Just then, her cell phone rang. She flipped it open.

Caleb’s voice. “Phoebe. I’m no good up here. Nothing. I’m not seeing anything.”

“Don’t worry, we’ve got it covered.” She studied the rendition. “Hey, is there some kind of wall carving there? Mythological? With centaurs?”

“Yeah, on a wall in the French section. Hang on, just walked by it.”

“I saw something, and it looks like Orlando’s drawing the same thing right now. He’s still in a trance.”

“Okay, I’m looking at it now, but I don’t see anything obvious. Tried touching it, hoped for a vision, but got nothing. Not even a daydream.”

“What I don’t know is what it means. Why the centaur?”

Caleb took a moment to respond. “The battle symbolized nature versus civilization. Lapithe and Centaures were twin sons of the god Apollo. Centaures was born deformed and later mated with mares, creating half-human, half-horse hybrids. This scene shows a legendary battle between the brothers’ descendents, all started over some alcohol abuse at a wedding.”

“Why would that have anything to do with the Books of Thoth, and those keys?”

“I don’t know, but it might fit-in the sense of reconciling man’s nature, both sides of what we’re seeking here: the raw physicality of what we’ve become versus our psychic potential. This scene represents the conflict and the overthrow of one by the other.”

“Whatever, but we still need to know where the key is. Maybe Orlando can figure it out.”

“He’d better draw fast.”

“Why?”

“I don’t think I’m alone in here.”

Caleb had been kneeling in front of the marble carving of the classic Greek scene, the battle of the Centaurs and the Lapiths, when he heard something. Two heavy scansions and a thick rope set off the ancient artwork from the walkway, but Caleb had stepped over it to scrutinize the carvings more intently. Pulling his fingers away from the most prominent centaur, he snapped the phone shut and backed away toward the northeast corner of the room.

He had heard a step, a scuff, someone trying to be stealthy. He ducked around a corner, into another room with a red coat of arms hanging on the wall and a glass case full of spearheads, axes and maces discovered in a Phoenician wreck. There was one exit straight ahead, which he kept an eye on as he opened the phone and called Agent Wagner.

“Renee here,” she answered. “What did you find?”

Whispering, he said, “Not sure yet, but-are any of your people inside?”

“No, why?”

A shadow flitted across the light in the doorway. “Have them look in on my location. I think I’m being tracked. Someone’s here.”

Caleb backed further into the shadows while keeping a clear view of the corridor.

“Nothing, Caleb. My snipers aren’t seeing a thing, and I’m tracking you with the GPS signal on your phone. We can see you in that room through the western window.

“There’s someone in the hallway behind me.”

“Impossible.”

“Maybe someone hid during the evacuation, or there’s a secret passage or something. Someone waiting for me. Maybe it’s him.” Or worse, Caleb thought. It’s Nina, and I’m as good as dead.

“Okay, listen Caleb. If you think you can chance it, run through the other door and keep running. It’s a long hallway, but with a lot of windows, and-”

Another sound, and a silhouette filled the doorway.

Caleb hoped Renee knew what she was doing. He snapped the phone shut, ducked his head and started to run for the door-just as a dark figure eased into the room before him.

Caleb froze, raising his hands, still holding the cell phone. Completely covered in black like a ninja, the intruder glided toward him. It said something incomprehensible from under a black facemask and then did a strange thing. It stopped, and bowed.

Caleb didn’t know how to react. Should he run, laugh or return his bow? Instead, he shifted a foot to his right, concealing the scansion behind his back.

When the stranger’s head raised, his gloved hands rose, and were now holding long curved daggers.

Caleb reached behind him, gripping the cool metal. “Wait, let’s talk a sec.”

The attacker leapt. Caleb ducked and spun around, hauling the heavy scansion up with him and taking his unaware foe in the chest.

A dagger dropped as he grunted, fell, but then sprang right back up. Only two feet away, the dagger beckoned within Caleb’s reach as he let go of the scansion, but he had already made his move toward the door and the long passage.

He ducked and lunged forward, just as something clanged off the granite wall where his head had just been. Then he was sprinting, weaving slightly side to side. Panting, passing each window and getting a glimpse of the towers and walls, the trees, the hills.

Come on, somebody take a shot.

The footsteps behind him were gaining. Maybe preparing another knife for the back of his head. Caleb crossed in front of another window, the last one before the next doorway and a steep winding staircase inside the German tower.

He lunged like an Olympic sprinter at the finish line just as he heard the distant pop and, as he skidded into the tower, angling for the stairs, he heard a grunt and a flopping sound.