"Didn't the Druids practice human sacrifice?" Michael asked.
Kit gave a gasp of horror and moved to open the door, ready to hurl herself downward. Lucien intercepted her. "Wait," he said sharply as he caught her upper arm. "Stay close to me."
She looked at him blindly, and he guessed that she was linked with her sister's mind again. He gave her a little shake. "Kit, if we are to rescue Kira, you must stay with us mentally as well as physically."
She gulped, then nodded, her eyes clearing. "I understand."
Michael opened the door again, then led the way down the stairs. The others followed, first Jason, then Kit, with Lucien bringing up the rear. The worn steps and rough walls were the coarse stone of medieval construction. As they descended, the chanting became much louder. A single deep voice would intone a phrase, followed by a chorused response. The language was largely unintelligible, but might be a bastardized form of Latin.
The thrumming intensified as well, vibrating through the stone. With every step, the sense of menace increased until Lucien wanted to jump from his skin.
He suspected that his unease was less a premonition of disaster than concern for Kit. Though he was not a stranger to mortal peril, in the past he had risked only his own life. Now he was far more worried about Kit's safety than he had ever been about his own.
It didn't help that Kit seemed ready to shatter from nerves. The bond between them might not be as close as he wished, but it was strong enough for him to be affected by her emotions. The depth of her fear struck haunting echoes of the desperate panic he had felt when trying to save Elinor.
His mouth tightened. He had failed his sister, but he would not fail again.
The corridor at the bottom of the steps ran in both directions, while the stairs turned and continued downward. To the right was more of the old stonework, but the chanting and light came from the left, where the passage seemed to have been carved directly from the chalk core of the hill.
Lucien touched Kit's shoulder inquisitively. She grimaced and pointed at the blank wall. Apparently, Kira was ahead of them and it wasn't clear which would be the best way to reach her.
Soft-footed, Michael went to investigate the light and disappeared around a corner. A few moments later he came back into view, surprise on his face, and made a gesture that ordered both caution and silence. The other three went after him.
What they found was astonishing. The corridor led to a shadowy wooden gallery that ran around all four sides of a huge chamber. It appeared to be a natural cavern that had been shaped into a roughly cubical space. Moisture glistened on the walls from the rain that was saturating the hill. Well below them, in the center of the chamber, stood the Disciples, garbed in scarlet robes and vaguely ecclesiastical headdresses. Lucien was surprised to see that there were only thirteen. The eerie echoes of the chanting had made it sound like a much larger group.
In each corner of the chamber stood a burly man in black robes and turban, holding a broadsword upright before him. Ives had been right; the guards looked like retired pugilists.
Most startling of all were the statues, a double circle within the square of the chamber. There were easily thirty figures, all of them larger than life, perhaps seven feet tall. Each effigy depicted a weapon-wielding warrior, with no two alike. A Roman gladiator with a short sword and round shield stood opposite a fierce African with a vicious throwing knife. A bearded Viking with a battle-ax snarled across the room at a menacing Turk with a scimitar while a foot soldier with a halberd glared at a mace-bearing medieval knight.
Made of metal and painted to look real, they were unnervingly lifelike. Lucien had a nightmarish vision of the effigies coming alive and using their weapons to destroy anyone who tried to pass through the rings to reach the Disciples.
In the very center of the chamber, standing between two bonfires, stood the leader, the only one facing toward the intruders. It was Mace, his arms stretched high over his head. Above him hung a large chandelier and behind was a large, flat stone altar. Lucien's stomach turned; the altar looked as if it was designed for human sacrifice.
Kit must have guessed that, for she gave a shudder. Luckily, there was no sign of Kira. If she was scheduled to be the sacrificial victim of some barbaric rite, it hadn't happened yet.
Kit stepped back and pointed downward and back the way they had come. Kira must be on the same level as the ceremony. After a last look at the bizarre scene, Lucien followed the others as they returned to the stairwell and descended again.
The stairs ended on the next level. This time a passage led straight, as well as to right and left. Kit moved confidently into the middle corridor. Candles burned in niches along the walls, illuminating devils' masks that had been carved into the soft chalk. They leered with life, the faces glistening sweatily with the moisture exuding from the stone.
As they followed Kit, Lucien began to believe they might be able to extricate Kira without alerting the Disciples. That would be the safest course, though Lucien would regret not having the chance to wreak violence on the arrogant bastard responsible for the abduction. He comforted himself with the thought that justice might be delayed, but it would be done. He would make sure of that
Kit was several feet ahead of him, looking neither left nor right as she strode along. The other two were behind, keeping a sharp eye on their surroundings. Ahead of Kit, Lucien saw that a band of darker stones crossed the corridor floor. Concealed within were holes several inches square. The dark band ran up the walls and continued across the ceiling. As he wondered what the purpose might be, Kit stepped on one of the dark stones.
The stone shifted with a clink, and all hell broke loose.
Chapter 36
Heavy bells began clanging, reverberating through the passage with ear-numbing power. Kit froze, her head whipping around to see what had happened.
Lucien heard a grating sound and looked up. A heavy iron portcullis was starting to fall from a slot masked by the dark stones-and Kit was standing directly below. He shouted her name and hurled himself forward, knocking her beyond the pointed stakes of the plummeting gate. She pitched to the floor, and he came tumbling after her.
With a boom that echoed through the passage, knocking chips of chalk from the ceiling, the portcullis crashed into the stone floor. Something grazed his right ankle, and he looked back to see that he had not jumped quite far enough to clear the path of the gate.
By sheer luck his leg lay between two of the viciously pointed stakes. A few inches to either side and his ankle would have been impaled, pinning him to the floor. As it was, his foot was caught in the narrow space between the floor and the bottom bar of the portcullis.
The bells were still tolling, and in the cavern a furious voice bellowed, "Intruders have entered. Find them!"
Bloody hell! Lucien wrenched his foot free, then scrambled up. If the portcullis couldn't be raised, Michael and Jason would be trapped between it and the angry Disciples.
Michael had already seen the danger. He heaved at the iron gate, then shook his head. "We'll never move this thing. Luce, you and Kit keep going." Calmly he unslung his carbine and cocked the hammer. "Travers and I can handle that lot."
Kit had risen and was staring at the other men, her face stricken. Lucien grabbed her arm. "We can't do anything. Don't worry, they're armed. Our job is to find Kira."
Kit gulped and nodded, then turned to continue along the corridor. "She's very close now."
The passage turned left. Fifty yards later, it split into four narrower tunnels that wound out of sight like Medusa's locks. Kit stopped and stared at the new obstacle.