David Sakmyster - The Mongol Objective

“My master,” whispered Qara, from just ahead. She tried to lower herself to one knee, but a soldier hauled her back up.

“Everyone back,” Renee barked, moving ahead. “But not you, Caleb. You come up here. I believe this sort of thing is your specialty.”

Phoebe held her brother’s arm. “Be careful. We haven’t had time to study this.” Then, whispering, said, “Fake it if you have to. I’ll do the heavy work back here.”

Chang played his flashlight beam over the letters. “This is difficult. I recognize not many symbols.”

Renee grabbed Qara by the back of her neck and shoved her forward. “Read it, Darkhad. And no tricks.”

Qara stumbled weakly, hair over her face, hands tied behind her back. She squinted. As she read, a smile formed. “It says, If you have come seeking death, continue. If you have come seeking agony beyond measure, enter. If you have come seeking madness, proceed. But if you have come seeking treasure, turn back, for there is nothing here for you. Turn back, and live with the one treasure alone that never lasts.”

Chang frowned and turned around. “What treasure never lasts?”

“Life,” Phoebe said at once. “He’s talking about your life.”

Renee snorted. “Caleb? Shouldn’t you be drawing something?”

“I’ll do it,” Phoebe said, “since I saw the vision the clearest.” She stepped forward. “Orlando, can I have your iPad? I’ll show you what I’ve seen, the design of this door, and the chambers immediately beyond it.”

Orlando unslung his backpack and fished it out, turned it around and handed it to her. “All yours.”

The light from the screen stung at her eyes, but Phoebe concentrated, then moved closer to the door and sat, crossing her legs.

“Hurry,” Renee said.

“If you want us all dead, I will.”

Renee played her light along the edges of the slab, dancing over Temujin’s face and banner, looking for seals or handles. “No stalling. Get this door open or I’ll have my men blast it apart.”

Orlando cleared his throat. “You can’t rush this kind of thing.”

Caleb fidgeted, feeling useless. “Not unless you like pain and agony and madness. And all the other stuff he talks about on that wall.”

“Yes,” urged Qara. “By all means, blast it open.”

“Shut up.” Renee glanced back up at the darkness behind them, as if expecting it to release a surge of armored warriors.

She headed into the shadows and spoke into the transceiver attached to her shoulder, attempting to communicate with the team outside. When no response came, her face fell and she gave up the effort.

Phoebe called up the images she had seen, flashes of workers toiling with the creation of diabolical traps, of masons crafting elaborate sliding walls and interlocking shafts, holes bored through the earth and fitted with gears, levers, pulleys and springs. Finally, she withdrew from those sights and instead focused on the structure of the passageways, viewing a general layout.

And then she started sketching. The men milled about quietly, breathing shallowly, some of them extinguishing their lights to save the batteries.

“Here,” Phoebe said, standing again. Chang moved in first to get a look while Orlando and Caleb tried to peek around them. She showed them the design.

“It’s a little crude, since I wasn’t allowed much time, but here’s the door, and beyond it you’ve got a double T-shaped area, with a small chamber almost immediately to the left and right beyond this door. And then a short distance ahead, the passage ends in a wall where you can go right or left. Long passageways extend both ways, with a sizeable chamber at the end of each hall.”

She pointed to the first intersection, then glanced at Qara to see her reaction, but her face was cloaked in shadow. “Here, there’s something nasty waiting for us.”

“What?”

“Huge metal spikes. As far as I could tell, they blast out from either side.”

“How do we avoid them?” Orlando asked.

“There’s a trail I saw, highlighted in green, something about the stones which make up that section. I think we’ll see it when we get past this door.”

“And how,” Renee said, flashing her light back to the Temujin’s haughty face, “do we do that?”

Phoebe sighed, then turned to Qara. “On this part, I’m sorry to say, I’m blind. I saw them build it, set it in place. It’s seriously thick, but I couldn’t see how it opens.”

“That’s unacceptable,” Renee said.

Caleb turned to Qara. “You want to help?”

The Darkhad grinned through her pain. Shook her head.

Renee raised her. 45, pointed it at Qara’s leg. “Oh, she’ll help.”

“Wait!” Orlando shouted. “Hold on, I’m not bad at these things, either. After all, I did see you.”

Renee lowered the gun. “Very well. Go on.”

Orlando studied the door, narrowed his eyes and took a deep breath. He took a few steps forward, palms out. Phoebe experienced a moment of dread, fearing that to touch the door would release some kind of horrific trap to bury them all. She really hadn’t seen anything about this door, and that alone surprised her. Had no one been through here since they set the door in place? She had concentrated on seeing the door open, had asked that question, but nothing came of it, just a humming and the consistent view of the mural-covered wall.

“Try remote viewing the unlocking mechanism,” Caleb suggested. “They must have built one, although my guess is that no one has ever used it.”

“That’s exactly what I’m trying, boss.”

“Wait,” Renee said. “I thought Kublai and his other sons were buried here too. Wouldn’t they have had to open the door?”

Phoebe shrugged. “That’s what I thought too, but I’m not getting anything.”

Qara had overheard and when Caleb glanced in her direction, she gave a grudging nod. “Temujin alone lies here. His descendents, like the rest of Mongolia, feared to trespass upon his necropolis.”

“But Kublai had no problem building his own city above it?”

“That was part of Temujin’s will,” she said. “We never knew why. It made the sacred mission of the early Darkhad difficult, since it brought undue attention to the very area we wished to conceal.”

“I can think of two reasons,” Caleb said, raising his hand with two fingers out. “One is that Kublai would have subscribed to the same tenets as his grandfather. He knew the value in hiding secrets in plain view. And the second reason has to deal with symmetry and the mystical precept of ‘as Above, so Below.”

“That never gets old,” Orlando says. “Kind of like Twinkies.”

“So where are they? His sons?” Caleb asked. “Back on the Sacred Mountain?”

Qara’s expression never wavered. “Perhaps.”

“Hang on,” Orlando said, brushing off more dirt from his face. He lurched toward the door, shook his head to clear a vision, then headed right. Three soldiers moved out of his way, keeping their lights on him as he moved along the wall, past the script and to the corner. He pointed. “Up there.”

The lights followed his outstretched hand and index finger indicating the broken section Caleb had noticed before, the area he thought had crumbled through, pierced by a tree root.

“That would have to be some seriously deep root.”

“Not a root,” Orlando replied. “Although designed to look the part. Get two of your men, Agent Wagner. One boost the other. Grab hold and pull.”

Renee snapped her fingers, then brought her flashlight to the scene as two commandos rushed around Orlando. One knelt and made a step out of his hands to lift the other, then pushed him up on his shoulders. The top man gripped the root-like thing.