King's Crusade (Seventeen) (37 page)

Giant, stone roller doors leaned against the walls next to the main entrance of every floor, ready to be moved to close off the access to that level of the complex. They passed ventilation shafts dropping hundreds of feet into the earth and narrow wells that carried the rush of a distant, subterranean river.

The monk finally staggered to a halt at the junction of a pair of tunnels two hundred feet below the ground. Shadows shifted at the end of the passage on the right. Alexa raised the Sigs, her fingers on the triggers. She froze, before slowly lowering the guns.

Reznak and Carrington stormed into the intersection with a large company of men; they had met up with the Freemasons. Although Reznak’s team had fared better than her own party in terms of numbers, they had still incurred significant injuries. Alexa could see blood trailing from bullet wounds on the legs and chests of several of the men.

‘Any sign of the rest of the Hunters?’ she asked briskly.

Reznak shook his head, a scowl darkening his face. ‘They’re two and half miles down the valley.’ He glanced at the men behind him. ‘This is it for the time being.’ His gaze shifted to the monk. ‘It’s good to see you again.’

Yonten nodded distractedly and pointed at the staircase at the end of the opposite tunnel. ‘Hurry,’ he said, breaking into a run.

They went after him.

‘We’re close to the tombs,’ said Alexa seconds later as they pounded down the wide stone steps.

‘How do you know?’ said Reznak beside her.

‘Because my birthmark is burning.’

Alexa felt her godfather’s stare on the back of her neck. They reached the bottom of the staircase.

A pair of thick, oak doors with wrought iron hinges stood at the opposite end of a shallow vestibule. An empty alcove was visible on the left. A small corridor disappeared into the gloom to the right.

‘Is Jackson in there?’ said Alexa stiffly, indicating the closed doors with a sharp head tilt.

Yonten nodded, his expression sober. ‘There are a lot of sect members on the other side,’ he said. He motioned her toward the recess to the left of the doors.

Bullets thudded into the ground behind them as a group of guards poured down the stairs. The Hunters and the Freemasons returned fire.

Alexa and Reznak followed Yonten into the alcove. The monk pointed to the wall ahead. A dim light washed across a slit-like opening at waist level. They crouched down and peered through the narrow aperture.

An enormous circular chamber with a barrel-vaulted ceiling lay at the bottom of the short flight of steps that dropped down from the thick, oak doors to the right. Dotted in the thick limestone walls was a network of niches holding a collection of relics and ancient weapons; the gap Alexa and Reznak were spying through was at the back of one of these recesses.

A battalion of heavily armed sect members occupied the expansive floor space beyond the stairs. Half of the men stood guarding the entrance to the chamber. The rest were moving crates up a ramp and into a giant, arched opening on the opposite side of the room.

Alexa caught a glimpse of the tombs as they disappeared on a pair of electric, flatbed goods trolleys into the gloom of the tunnel beyond. Her gaze finally alighted on an altar in a wide alcove to the left of the chamber.

The Emerald Tablet and Anna Godard’s gold pendant glimmered on the top of the solid limestone block that rose out of the ground. A document that might have been the
Mutus Liber
and a second sun cross pendent rested beside them.

She froze.

Chapter Thirty-One

J
ackson stood shackled to the
wall next to the altar, his wrists locked in iron fetters above his head. Blood coated his face and the exposed skin of his arms and chest where he had been beaten and cut. The knuckles of his fists were red and raw. His left eye and cheek were swollen and badly bruised.

Cavaleti stood close to him and pointed imperiously at the artifacts on the limestone block. Fresh crimson trails stained the polished edges of the Schiavona broadsword in the older man’s hand as he shouted indiscernible commands at the Harvard professor.

A wry smile crept across Jackson’s face. He murmured something through his bleeding lips. Cavaleti’s eyes darkened. He nodded briskly at someone hidden behind the curve of the wall. Boyko Dragov stepped into view and punched Jackson in the stomach.

The Harvard professor gasped and choked as he struggled to catch his breath. Scarlet drops dripped down his chin and onto the floor.

Icy rage flooded Alexa’s mind. The trishula blazed at the back of her neck. She rose to her feet and stormed out of the alcove.

Bodies crowded the staircase leading to the vestibule. The Hunters and the Freemasons were using the cover of the dead sect members to shoot at the men coming down the steps.

‘Do you know where this leads to?’ she asked the monk, jerking her head at the passage opposite the alcove.

Yonten glanced at the oak doors. ‘Somewhere on the other side?’ he hazarded.

Alexa turned to Carrington. ‘Give me the C4,’ she ordered curtly.

The Crovir immortal looked at the doors blankly before slowly sliding his backpack from his shoulders. He handed her two blocks of explosives, a handful of blasting caps, and a remote control detonator.

She finally looked at Reznak. ‘Take half the men and go.’ She indicated the narrow corridor on the other side of the vestibule.

Sporadic gunfire sounded in the distance. Her godfather gazed at her inscrutably for timeless seconds. Schmidt frowned at them from his position near the staircase.

‘Okay,’ Reznak murmured, his fingers whitening on the gun in his hand. This time, he spoke the words he had refrained from uttering earlier that day. ‘Be careful.’

Alexa nodded and watched him leave with Carrington and a mixed band of Hunters and Freemasons. Six men stayed back to cover the stairs. She turned to the doors and packed the C4 around the hinges before joining the rest of the group in the alcove.

‘Get Jackson and the artifacts,’ she instructed in a hard voice, looking steadily at Schmidt and Yonten. The two men glanced at each other and nodded. The Crovir Hunter yelled at the men guarding the steps. They turned and rushed inside the alcove.

Alexa flexed her gloved fingers, took a deep breath, and depressed the switch on the detonator. The force of the explosion shook the ground beneath their feet.

She was up and running through the billows of dust and flying splinters of wood before the final reverberations died down. She flashed past the wreckage of the damaged doors, stepped off the top of the stairs beyond, and leapt into the air, the Sigs singing in her hands as she swung her arms out and wide.

The guards reacted too slowly. By the time her feet neared the ground, she had disposed of the first five men. Adrenaline streamed through her veins, sharpening her senses and focusing her hunter’s skills. A grim smile dawned on her lips.

She had never felt more alive than she did in that moment.

She reloaded the guns a heartbeat after she landed and raced for the line of advancing men, the weapons unwavering in her grip. Her shots did not miss a single target.

Cavaleti yelled an order from the other side of the room. Alexa glimpsed an orange streak out of the corner of her eye and heard gunfire behind her. Yonten was heading for the altar with Schmidt.

She looked around and saw Cavaleti running toward the dark tunnel at the rear of the chamber. Dragov stood his ground and turned to face the monk and the Crovir immortal.

A second later, she was inside a ring of sect members. She holstered the Sigs, pulled the sais out of their sheaths, and jumped into a powerful roundhouse kick that floored three men.

A stranger dressed in saffron robes and wielding a jō staff dashed past her right as she spun a sai against her forearm to block a blow to her head. A second, similarly dressed figure armed with a lacquered bō appeared on her left just before she delivered an elbow slash to a guard’s throat and back-fisted another one in the face.

Alexa looked over her shoulder at the dozens of men in orange robes pouring through the doorway behind her. The monks from Abbot Kelsang’s order had arrived.

She slipped out of the way of an uppercut aimed at her temple, flicked the second sai against her forearm, and struck the man in the chest and head with the handles of the blades. She shifted, front snap-kicked another guard in the groin, and brought her leg around in a curving knee strike into the abdomen of a third sect member.

The three men folded to the ground. Four more surrounded her.

Grinning savagely, Alexa jumped in a high reverse round-kick that knocked out the first two men, flowed into a spinning hook-kick to bring down the third, and dropped into a floor-sweep that tripped the last sect member to the ground. She elbowed him in the face, rolled out of the way of a stamping boot, and rose smoothly to her feet.

A flurry of fists darted toward her. She ducked, blocked a low kick to her midriff, flipped the sais in her grip, and jabbed her two attackers in the neck and face. A blow glanced past her left hip. She stepped to the side, dropped her leg in a stomp-kick that broke her assailant’s foot, twisted to avoid strikes from another pair of guards, palm-heeled one of them in the nose, and hammer-fisted the second one in the throat.

Across the way, Yonten engaged Dragov while Schmidt shot open the manacles that bound Jackson to the wall. The Harvard professor collapsed in the Hunter’s arms and raised his head weakly. Bloodshot, puffy blue eyes blinked slowly. He froze when he saw her. Shock and relief flashed on his face.

A deep wrenching ache tore through Alexa’s very being and made her breath catch in her throat. Flames licked the birthmark across her nape. Before she knew it, she was moving through the horde of men separating her from the altar in a deadly dance of kicks, punches, and strikes, the sais blurring in her hands as she snapped them through rapid grip changes.

A bullet whizzed past her head a second after she leapt into a butterfly kick. Another one grazed her right thigh when she landed on the ground, the three sect members she had struck in the head falling around her. She looked toward the mouth of the tunnel and saw the immortal with the pale blue eyes aim his gun at her again.

Alexa shifted to the side as a third bullet flashed past her hip, hurled a sai above her head, pulled a Sig out, and returned fire. Her shots slammed into the immortal’s left shoulder and flank. He stumbled and collapsed against the wall of the tunnel. She holstered the Sig, grasped the dagger as it fell toward her, and looked toward the altar. Her breath froze in her lungs.

Schmidt was on his knees by the limestone block. He shook his head dazedly, blood dripping from his mouth and nose. Dragov’s foot swung up like a sledgehammer and slammed into his gut. The Crovir Hunter’s body rose three feet into the air before crumpling to the ground. Jackson struggled from the floor and staggered toward the giant.

As Alexa sprinted toward them, her body gliding automatically into a frenzied flow of strikes and blocks, Yonten stepped up against the altar and jumped into a powerful reverse roundhouse kick. His foot collided with Dragov’s jaw with an audible snap.

The giant reared back. He reached out with lightning speed, grabbed the monk by the arm, and swung him up against the stone wall with a sadistic smile. Yonten struck the rock face with a thud. Crimson jets streaked across the limestone.

Air left Alexa’s lips in a hiss of anger. She sheathed the sais, whipped the Sigs from her body holster, and fired ruthlessly at the men in her path.

Dragov released the injured monk, scooped the four artifacts on the stone altar into a small wooden chest, and headed briskly toward the tunnel at the back of the room.

Movement drew Alexa’s gaze to the right. Ice filled her veins. The blue-eyed immortal was back on his feet. He raised his gun once more and squeezed the trigger.

Her head whipped around. Time slowed.

Her mouth opened on a cry as the bullet hurtled through the air toward Jackson. She saw a figure rise out of the corner of her eye.

Yonten pushed Jackson out of the path of the bullet. The shot slammed into the monk’s chest with a solid thunk.

‘No!’ screamed Alexa.

Jackson caught Yonten as the monk staggered backward into him. The two men stumbled to the ground. The Harvard professor sat up slowly, his eyes widening in horror when he saw blood bloom across the saffron robes.

She pointed the Sigs toward the tunnel and pulled the triggers until the magazines clicked empty. Dragov and the blue-eyed immortal retreated further inside the passage. A second later, she reached the fallen men near the altar. Schmidt stirred on the floor and coughed.

Alexa gripped Yonten’s hand tightly, her heart sinking as she watched the crimson stain expand across his chest. Jackson pressed down firmly on the wound. Blood continued to pour past his fingers.

The monk looked up at her with a frail smile. Sweat beaded his pale brow. ‘Time to die,’ he gasped softly.

Alexa clenched her jaw and gazed into his limpid eyes, her fingers shaking tremulously around his.

Jackson stared at Yonten. ‘Why did you—’ he whispered, anguish flaring across his battered, ashen face.

The monk turned his head slightly. ‘You still have a purpose to fulfill.’ He raised bloodstained fingers and touched Jackson’s face gently.

A figure landed beside them and dropped to its knees. It was one of the other monks. The jō staff in the young man’s hands clattered to the stone floor. ‘Yonten,’ he said brokenly, dark eyes gleaming wetly.

Yonten’s gaze shifted. ‘Brother,’ he acknowledged in a weakening voice. ‘Now is not the time for tears.’ His breathing grew ragged. ‘I have...a request.’

‘Anything,’ said the other monk hoarsely.

‘You must tell the Abbot that Guru Rinpoche was right.’ Another gasp shuddered past Yonten’s lips as he turned to Alexa. ‘The immortal warrior truly lives on.’ His eyelids fluttered closed and his hand went limp in her grasp.

Alexa’s knuckles whitened as she squeezed his fingers.

A heartbeat later, Yonten opened his eyes one last time and stared at her. ‘Death is but a door,’ he murmured with a bright smile. ‘See you in the next life, warrior.’

Alexa could dimly make out the sounds of the nearby battle as she watched the light fade in the monk’s black pupils. She crouched motionless for long seconds before folding his fingers over the bloodied trishula mark on his palm and placing his hand gently on his chest. She closed his eyes with a steady hand and brought her lips to his forehead.

‘I will avenge you,’ she breathed in a hardening voice. The birthmark on her neck flamed at her words.