David Sakmyster - The Mongol Objective

“There,” said Montross. “That’s where we’re going. There’s his mausoleum.”

Alexander whispered, “I’m guessing those lights are your keys.”

“It would seem so.” Montross lowered the artifact. “They’re responding to the tablet, I imagine, and to the one around my neck. Now, Alexander. A quick glimpse, and let’s see if old Genghis has any more diabolical tricks up his sleeve.”

At that moment, with Nina’s attention fixed on the distant lights of the mausoleum, Colonel Hiltmeyer took his chance. All his anger, fear and drive for revenge exploded at once. He lunged, striking Nina, roaring into her, gripping her under the shoulders and flipping her over the wall.

Before Alexander even heard the splash, the big colonel had raced past him, leaping for Montross.

A second before it happened, Montross had gotten a flash, a glimpse of Hiltmeyer charging him, bowling him over, grabbing him by the neck.

So late! Usually the visions came long before any such threat of death. But recently, with so many crisscrossing events and track-jumping, the future was being constantly rewritten, and his sight took a hit.

Better late than never, he thought, grunting as Hiltmeyer struck him. He had managed to lift the arm holding the tablet and to grip it tighter. He absorbed the impact, letting Hiltmeyer bash him against the rampart, and then, with one big effort, he brought the tablet down on the colonel’s head.

Not enough force to kill him, but enough to daze him, and with that slight loosening of his grip, Montross slipped around, raising the tablet again for another strike.

Hiltmeyer rolled onto his back, bent his knees and kicked out, catching Montross in the gut and knocking him to the floor. The Ruger had fallen and was kicked across the stones in the melee to where Alexander stood, too shocked to move.

In a flash, Hiltmeyer was on Montross, this time slamming a knee into his stomach and bringing a fist down, hard, against his cheek. Then another to the mouth. Hiltmeyer was an enraged bear, striking again and again and — until the shot bellowed through the cavern, echoing across the walls, domes and among pillars.

Hiltmeyer staggered to his feet, then shuffled backward. It looked like he was choking himself, except for the dark liquid streaming from between his fingers. His eyes were open in wide shock, staring into the gloom, to the area above the shaking light held in Alexander’s hand-opposite the hand holding the smoking Ruger.

Which promptly fell, released from trembling fingers.

Montross craned his neck and looked past the swelling on his face. He spit out blood and grinned. “Thanks, kid.”

Hiltmeyer dropped to a seated position, his back thudding against the wall, his head falling forward, hands at his side as the blood continued to pump down the front of his shirt.

“I killed him.” Alexander stared at his open hand as if it belonged to someone else.

Montross stood, wobbling. He picked up the tablet, then snatched up the Ruger, sliding it under his belt. Then, with a glance at Hiltmeyer and a look of newfound respect for Alexander, he went to the wall and scanned the darkness below.

“Flashlight.”

Alexander remained motionless.

“Now, kid! Snap out of it or we’re going to lose her.”

The light bobbled, came over and aimed below. Alexander held it in both hands, still shaking. Montross focused, looking left and right.

“Here!” shouted a voice.

The light sought her out, then found her, clinging to the side of the first block. She looked ragged. Her sleeves were torn. The beam fell on her battered face, illuminating streaks of blood and a patch of her hair ripped away.

She squinted, then with great effort pulled herself up and rolled onto the platform, chest heaving. She held up a hand to ward off the light, and said, “You definitely do not want to fall in.”

She stood, testing her balance, and Alexander and Montross tensed, expecting the block to fall into the waters or to break apart and drag her under. But nothing happened.

“I guess we’re safe on the walkway,” Alexander said.

“Appears so. At least that one,” Montross agreed.

“And,” called Nina, “at least the water’s fine. Drank a gallon of it under there while I fought with something. I don’t know exactly what, but they were slimy, long and had lots of teeth.

Montross eyed the bubbles below. “I think we still want to RV this area, to be sure. And now, thanks to Alexander, we don’t have to worry about getting backstabbed by Mr. Liability over there.”

Alexander hung his head. “Why did I shoot him?” Alexander asked. “When I could’ve shot you?”

Taking his hand away, Montross looked down, meeting Alexander’s grave stare. “I’m sorry kid. I really am. About your mom. About all this. But someday, soon I hope, you’ll see what I’m doing-what I’ve done-and you’ll understand.”

“Never.”

Montross shrugged, and his face darkened before the tablet’s glow lit it up again. “Come on, I’ll lower you down to Nina, and we’ll make our way to the Mausoleum.”

“Where we’ll see my dad?”

“I’m positive of it.”

“What about all these other buildings. These temples, those palaces? All that treasure?” Alexander’s eyes lit up and he licked his lips. The enormity of what he had just done was fading under a renewed boyhood enthusiasm for adventure, overwhelming the onslaught of witnessing so much death. “All that gold must be piled up somewhere in here.”

“If you want to explore and sightsee,” Montross said, “then you come back here with your own annoying kids someday. We’re only here for the keys.”

The underground river below the terra cotta army was more like a sewer tunnel system than a river. The water was about knee-deep, and fortunately it was fresh, without a hint of the toxicity of the outside stream.

Cupping some in his palm, Caleb took a tentative drink. A sip, then a hearty swallow. Then he washed off his face as the others saw him and gratefully did the same.

“Keep moving,” Renee ordered. “Unless you want to RV this portion of the tunnel as well. But it seems odd that they would trap the very route just rewarded to us for solving that riddle up there.”

“They’ll booby trap everything,” Phoebe said. “It’s what they do. Sadists.”

Qara made a clicking sound.

“Or,” Caleb said, “they just want to make sure we’re worthy.”

“You’re not,” Qara said quietly. “No one is.”

Renee turned to her, splashing in the cool water. “Then why is this tunnel here?” The radiance from the flashlights reflected off the water, and danced like sunbursts in her eyes. “Why have we gotten this far, if your great Khan didn’t want someone to find him?”

Behind her back, Qara’s wrists worked the straps. Blood dripped into the water, the flesh cut through almost to the bone. Her face bore no expression.

“No,” Renee continued, “our presence here is proof. It was meant to be found. Found, and taken.”

“By you?” Phoebe asked. “I don’t think so. This is just like the Pharos Lighthouse. It was designed to keep out everyone except those with our kinds of abilities. And despite your minor glimpse at our RV session, I don’t think you qualify.”

“We’ll see,” Renee said. “I’m blessed in other ways. Chosen.”

Qara worked her shoulders, pulling, tugging, twisting her fingers back at a nearly impossible angle, getting under the plastic.

Caleb stood by his sister and addressed Renee. “You want these keys, the translation and the tablet. Want it returned to your master. But Marduk’s long gone. And your cult, it’s nothing anymore, is it? So what is this really about?”