David Sakmyster - The Mongol Objective

The lights danced on his face, bringing out tears in his eyes as he refused to close them, hoping to get one last look at Phoebe.

“Sorry,” he said glumly. “I screwed up. I don’t know how, but I must have. I know this is right, I see the trail, but-”

“You didn’t screw up,” Caleb said. “I did.”

“What?” Phoebe was at his side, clutching his arm.

Renee turned toward him. “How is this your fault? Other than not seeing it for yourself and trusting this crucial task to a junior member.”

“Nothing junior about him,” Caleb said. “And he’s seeing the right trail.”

“I am?” Orlando asked, his voice cracking. He looked down at his feet, even as his knees started wobbling.

“It’s the right trail,” Caleb continued, “just at the wrong altitude.”

“Huh?”

“The riddle,” he said. “I figured it out. Unfortunately, a little late.”

“The way past,” Renee intoned. “Same as the way in?”

“Yeah. The secret of the entrance. Remember?”

Phoebe slapped her hand against her forehead. “They moved the river!”

“Exactly.” Caleb pointed down. “I’m guessing there’s an entrance or a tunnel back here somewhere, where the river we just came down continues under this section in another subterranean tunnel. Weaving its way under the warriors.”

“Damn it!” Orlando hissed. “I should’ve figured that out. I even saw what looked like water, glowing water, but I thought it was just part of the vision.”

“Don’t worry, you did good.” Caleb sighed. “Now we’ve got to get you out of there.”

“Impossible,” Renee said. “He takes his chances. Just duck, roll and run back. With any luck, he’ll make it.”

The other soldiers had taken wary steps back, and were spreading out, ducking their heads.

“Get some cover if you can,” Renee barked. “I suspect the arrows might be flying any second.” She turned to Phoebe. “Sorry about your boyfriend, but at least we don’t have to worry about his untrustworthy visions anymore.”

Caleb had to hold Phoebe back as she squirmed. “You bitch!”

“Stop,” he said. “Just wait. We need to think.”

“No time. Chang, find that entrance. Check the walls and the ground back by the water.”

As Chang busied himself with that task, Caleb moved ahead, scanning around. He put his hands down, then slipped off his backpack. Turned around. “Get supplies off that dead man. The heaviest things he’s carrying.” He dropped to his knees and began digging, prying out rocks and chunks of earth and stuffing them in the pack.

Phoebe knelt beside him and started helping. “Good idea.” Her eyes were red and heavy.

“We’ll save him,” Caleb whispered.

Phoebe tried to smile. “I’m not so sure.”

As they filled the pack as much as possible, then zipped it up, Qara, who had been standing mutely near the shore, came closer. “Maybe,” she said quietly, so only Caleb and Phoebe could hear, “this is an opportunity.”

“What do you mean?”

“To free yourselves.”

“If you’ve got any secrets, spill ’em now,” Phoebe said.

“I believe,” she said, “your friend has a chance. Not only to save himself, with the help of your counterweight here, but also perhaps to set off an attack by these warriors. A volley of arrows that would surely injure most, if not all, of Agent Wagner’s men.”

“And not us?” Caleb asked.

“Not if we’re lying flat at the right moment.”

“What are you talking about?” Renee spun away from Chang and came in close.

“Do you want to survive this or not?” Qara said, holding her head up.

Renee studied her. “I don’t trust you. But for now, you live. Just move back, away from Caleb.”

“I have it!” Chang yelled. Two men were on their knees, brushing away the earth in a section just a few yards ahead of the prow of the second boat. Lights converged on the area, illuminating a rounded outline cut into a marble-like surface.

While they went about clearing out the handle and prying it open like a manhole cover, Caleb dragged the backpack toward the field of warriors, where Orlando stood teetering on the balls of his feet, ten yards out. Surrounded by warriors poised to strike both high and low, he looked terrified and miserable.

“Please hurry, boss. Don’t want to get all cliche on you, but I don’t want to die just yet. So much left to do and all.”

“Hang in there, Orlando. I’m coming.”

“I could tell you, but you probably won’t believe me. I’ve never even-”

“I don’t need to hear this, really.”

“-kissed a girl.” He smiled back. “What did you think I was going to say?”

Caleb shook his head. “Never would have guessed. A suave guy like you.”

Then lower, “I love your sister, you know.”

Caleb ducked under the first two warriors. He held his breath, trying to step exactly in Orlando’s footsteps as he lugged the eighty-pound pack. “You can tell her that yourself, when we get out of this.”

Orlando shook his head. “Nope. I think I’m shish kebob. Or hibachi. Whichever.”

“For hibachi you need fire. Kebab is skewering.”

“Ah. Well then.” His body gave a tremor and his back foot almost slipped before he caught himself and regained balance. “These hungry fellows here have waited a long time for their dinner.”

“They can wait longer.” Caleb crouched, dragging the pack right up to the back of Orlando’s legs. “Keep the light on us!” he yelled back, then winced against the blaze.

“Tell me when,” Orlando said.

Caleb could see his feet shaking. His boots, dirt-caked and torn at the sides, wobbled on a plate tilting out of the earth. He could see the levers underneath leading to the closest statues, somehow triggering them into movement.

He dragged the pack onto the back of the plate, inching it forward little by little. “Lift your foot, Orlando. Just slightly. Lean forward. Keep your toes on it. There…”

Something grated and Orlando flinched. It took all his effort not to move off the plate. “Boss? They’re gearing up, and their blades look freakin’ sharp. Vorpal sharp, even. At least I know I won’t feel it when-”

“Stop. Now, just ease forward. All your weight on your left foot.” Caleb slid the pack two more inches, covering now the space where his right foot had been.

Balancing, back foot in the air, Orlando slowly set it down, next to his front foot.

Caleb took his hands off the pack, gently, with his eyes closed. Then opened them and looked up, breathing a sigh. “Okay?”

“Still in one piece,” Orlando said. “It’s holding. Can I run for it?”

“Not yet.” Caleb glanced back and saw Qara behind the others, pulling Phoebe with her. Saw their eyes. Saw Qara’s expression, and her lips moving: Do it.

Caleb put his hand back on the pack while getting up into a kneel, and with his other hand took Orlando’s arm. He could pull him down easily, down and away from the statue’s reach, just as he pulled the pack off the plate. Both of them would be ducking, and after the two statues swung horizontally, the arrows would fly at perfectly coordinated angles, missing the other statues and striking with a maximum spread at anyone standing on the shore.

Take them all out. Do it.

He tightened his grip on the backpack, glancing around at all the lights dancing off the taut visages of the warriors standing in their eternal positions, poised and waiting for this chance to defend their master.

Caleb blinked away a bead of sweat. Shook his head. No. Not like this.

He eased Orlando back, around the plate, even as he stood up from a crouch, and led him slowly, carefully back along their footsteps.