The Crypts of Eden

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

They were down to five lanterns, the light a very precious source that was quickly losing its value. When there were ten lamps, more light; five lamps, less of a circle of light, the radius shrinking.

In Hall’s little group there were three lamps. One was in the possession of Aussie and the other under the control of Butcher Boy. The light only threw enough of a circle to cast no more than a protective shield of five to seven meters. Anything could be waiting in shadow beyond those limits.

“How are we going to get out of here?” asked Hall, whining like a child and gesticulating wildly with his arms. “Everywhere we turn… those things, the moving walls and floors…”

Aussie thought the man was on the verge of tears. “Grow a pair of balls, mate. That bloody Turk over there showed more grit and tenacity than you did. It’s gonna be a shame when I ‘ave to kill ‘er.”

“We’re almost there,” said Butcher Boy. “If we can make it through the gauntlet back there, then we can make it through anything.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Hall said evenly. “You’ve lost two of your own and we haven’t reached our goal yet.”

Butcher Boy drew in a lungful of air and exhaled through his nostrils. The man was right. They were only on the second level with a ways to go before reaching the next. Worse, they were being pursued by something incredibly dangerous and running low on ammo. “We’ll get there,” he finally said.

Hall‘s only reaction was to nervously rake his fingers through his hair.

Standing, Butcher Boy looked at Aussie who shook his head in disgust of Hall.

“We need to get moving,” Butcher Boy said. “That wall is only a temporary barrier. Sooner or later those things will find another way around.” And then: “Ms. Moore!”

Savage was walking away from her when her name was called. Harika sat close to Alyssa, unmoving, but quiet as always.

“Yes.”

“We need to get going,” he said. “And it appears there’s only one direction to take.”

She looked beyond the circle of light and into the darkness, got to her feet, swept her hands across her bottom, and aided Harika into a stance. “She can’t take point,” Alyssa told him. “She’s in shock.”

“Yeah, well, tell her to get out of shock. She’s taking point,” he returned demandingly.

Their gazes held for a moment, and then Alyssa held the lamp high while walking Harika along with a corralling arm.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“What you told me to do.”

“I said for her to take point. Not you. You’re too much of an asset.”

“She can’t do this on her own. She’s in shock.”

“Fine.” Butcher Boy turned the point of his weapon onto Savage. “All right, Savage, you told me you would do things because you’re a decent person and not a soldier. Well, here’s your chance, hotshot. Get in there and replace Ms. Moore at point.”

Though he didn’t like taking commands from Butcher Boy or from anyone else, he was glad to do it if it would take Alyssa out of harm’s way. After relieving her of the responsibility of watching over Harika, he pulled the senior archeologist close while holding the lantern aloft with his free hand.

“Very nice,” said Butcher Boy. “Now move.”

Savage led the way with quite a distance to go.

It was almost ten meters in length, or 33 feet, which, even by the standards of Megalania Prisca, exceedingly large.

It had been the king of its domain for fifty years. And when meat became scarce, cannibalism was a way of life. And this apex predator would seek out its own kind and consume their flesh with relish. Once it had its first feed, it knew it would never go hungry again, since their kind was bountiful within the halls of the temple.

But there was a new scent on the wind, something its receptors picked up, something that was wonderfully delicious and had the coppery scent of warm blood, driving it forward.

Whereas most of its kind on average was marginally larger than half its size, this creature stood alone in its kingdom as its subjects avoided this brutal creature with the highest measure of self-preservation.

This taste in the wind was magnetically different and enticing, a new challenge to take down and devour.

As it made its way to the source, the lizard often stopped in its tracks and sent up its frill like the dish of radar, its receptors picking up signals and then conveying them to the creature’s brain, telling it how to follow through.

Knowing that it had no rival, it moved in the direction of its sonar without caution.

The temple was essentially a puzzle with open slots and recesses to be filled when the temple came alive by the movement of balances and weights. As one passage closed, another would open, thereby providing opportunities to move from one place to another freely.

When the temple walls shifted, a massive doorway opened, which allowed the creature access to new hallways and warrens.

So it hastened its way to meet a new challenge. The footfalls of its nearly two-thousand- pound body shaking the floor as it raced to meet its game.

They were moving to the center of the pyramid at a pretty good clip with Savage leading the way. Though they moved in silence, Alyssa was quite aware of her surroundings.

There were markings on the walls, ancient script, barely decipherable, but the general idea was that the temple was more than just a place of worship. It was also a library with the black silica panels serving as the pages of a book marking untold years of history onto mineral walls.

She was entranced as the ‘scientist’ in her lost focus to the dangers that were in pursuit or lying ahead.

“You look enamored,” said Hall.

She refused to dignify him with a response.

After a forty-minute march into the heart of the temple, they came upon what appeared to be a mausoleum entrance, suggestive of a baroque style with flowing designs and decorations. It had sweeping lines with bas-relief carvings surrounding the door. The bull, the lizard, the bear were all in perfect form. Surrounding the mausoleum entrance were several colored gem tiles with each one bearing a unique symbol.

Above the mausoleum door was ancient scripture:

Alyssa stood looking upward, her mind working.

“Problem, Ms. Moore?” asked Hall.

“You could say that,” she said, pointing at the ancient writing. “It’s another riddle.”

“Can you decipher it?” asked Butcher Boy.

“I’m trying.”

Hall began to meander about looking at the stepping stones that led to the mausoleum entrance. Green for emerald, red for ruby, blue for sapphire — the tiles having unique and archaic designs on them.

“Don’t get too close, mate,” said Aussie. “’Aven’t you learned your bloody lesson from last time?”

Hall held his hands up in surrender and backed away.

“Well,” she finally said. “It’s definitely a riddle.”

“Can you decipher it?”

“Hopefully.” She stepped closer, but sensible enough to stay away from the colored tile. A lantern was raised to read the text. “Upon the thrones of a magnificent kingdom sit the three Kings of Man’s Self: Truth, Lie and Wisdom. The King of Truth always told the truth; the King of Lies always told a lie; the King of Wisdom sometimes told the truth, but sometimes told a lie. However, the three kings look exactly alike, so that no one could determine one from the other. In order to enter the Chamber of the Primaries, the riddle determining the three Kings must be decided by the answers to three questions. When the King sitting upon the throne on the left is asked: “What throne does the middle King sit upon?” He answers ‘I am Truth.’ When the King sitting upon the throne in the middle is asked: “Who are you?” He answers ‘I am Wisdom.’ When the King sitting upon the throne on the right is asked: “Who is the middle King?” He answers ‘I am Lie.’ Should you choose your answer and path wisely, move forward and the Primaries you shall see.”

“Are you serious?” said Hall. “How are we to figure that out?”

“With patience,” she answered. Truth, Lie and Wisdom, the three components of Man’s Self.

“All right, so what do we know thus far?” she asked in general.

Savage stepped forward, his eyes focused to the writing above the door. “We know the king on the left said that the king in the middle was Truth”

“And that means?” led Hall.

“It means that if the left King said that the middle one is ‘Truth,’ then the left King cannot be ‘Truth’ because there can’t be two ‘Truth’ kings,” said Savage.

“That’s right,” returned Alyssa. “So if that’s true, and if the middle King said that he was ‘Wisdom,’ then he cannot be ‘Truth.’ Therefore, that leaves the right King as ‘Truth.’”

Savage nodded. “And according to the right King, the King of ‘Truth,’ then the middle King is ‘Lie’—”

“So that leaves the left King as ‘Wisdom,’” she interrupted.

“Correct.”

Alyssa made her way to the colored tiles and noted the symbols on them. “So what do we have?” she asked rhetorically. “We have ‘Wisdom’ on the left, ‘Lie ‘in the middle and ‘Truth’ on the right”

She stared at the tiles. There were several on the left, but only one that read: The King of Wisdom.

She stepped on an emerald tile, the green overlay descending about an inch. Nothing else happened beyond that. That’s a good sign, she considered.

Behind her, everyone was holding their collective breath.

In the middle sat several ruby tiles. Only one, however, read: The King of Lies.

She took an immediate sidestep until she stood pat, another good sign when it lowered an inch and nothing happened.

That left the ‘King of Truth’ on one of the sapphire tiles to the right.

Three of the tiles, however, were difficult to interpret.

“Is everything all right, Ms. Moore?” Butcher Boy took a step closer.

“I can’t figure out which of these three tiles is the correct one.”

She tilted the light of the lamp every which way, as if the proper shedding of light would enlighten her. One of the tiles in question was beyond her capability to step on from her point. So it had to be the tile directly in front of her, or the tile behind her and to the right.

Which one? Which tile?

Her line of vision was alternating from one tile to the other, deciding.

Which… one?

And then it clicked. Should you choose your answer and path wisely, move forward and the Primaries you shall see.

The right side was the King of ‘Truth.’ So the answer could only be the truth.

Move… forward… and the Primaries you shall see.

…Forward…

Alyssa raised her foot and took a direct step onto the tile in front of her. The tile sunk an inch beneath her foot.

And then the earth began to shake.

Oh, no!

The apex-predator sensed movement.

The walls, the floor beneath its massive paws, shook and vibrated, telling it that they were once again on the move, shifting, the temple reconfiguring into new and wondrous shapes.

In agitation the Megalania Prisca reared up into a bipedal position, more than five meters in height, sixteen feet not counting the length of its tail. Its frill shook like a tambourine while its receptors tried to register the source which seemed to be everywhere, confusing it.

And then the earth stood still, the reconfiguration complete.

The Megalania Prisca remained in its standing position, its frill fanning outward picking up new sensations.

Its quarry was close. Their scents were quite strong.

But they were behind walls of black silica, leaving Prisca the option of running a maze of warrens to get to its prey.

It then it fell down to its natural quadruped nature and launched itself forward with unbelievable speed for something so large, and navigated easily through the cloak of darkness as if it had full sight.

With every step it took, the scent grew stronger.