“There’s plenty there,” Gabriel said and he switched off the light. He fixed both of the Wingards with a concerned stare. “Remember, the first element was earth, and the crypt was underground. What we’re looking for isn’t on the water. It’s under it.”
Chapter 14
The cave smelled of spice and smoke. Deep in meditation, Vassily Platonov knelt before the altar, a low, flat boulder surrounded by candles whose flames illuminated the cave with a flickering glow. Incense smoldered from inside a stone brazier next to the boulder. With his headdress on the ground by his knees, he bowed his bald head in reverence. No statue of Ulikummis graced the altar. Such images were forbidden—theirs was a god of darkness and secrecy, his face so terrible it was said no mortal, not even his most devoted follower, could look upon it. Instead, resting at the center of the altar on a small woven blanket was a human skull that had recently been flensed of its skin.
In a low singsong Vassily chanted verses from memory—the ones he had been taught as a child and the ones he had only been permitted to learn upon turning twenty-one. He had recited them morning and night for decades now, and the words blended together as he sang them rapidly, his tongue flicking against his palate. With both hands he made the signs of Ulikummis and traced them along his chest. The time was coming near: World’s End, as the prophecies described it. When it came, the ancient stories would be played out again Just as Ulikummis had been born to defeat Teshub, Vassily had been born to become Ulikummis’s renewed vessel on earth, a shell for their god to inhabit when he once again descended to their plane to plunge the world into darkness and despair.
A rustle of movement drew Vassily from his thoughts as someone entered the cave behind him. “High Priest,” a voice said in Russian.
Vassily got up from where he knelt, placing the headdress back on his head. One of the younger brethren stood in the doorway, dressed in his street clothes instead of the ritual robe and skull mask. The young man was breathing hard and rubbing his hands anxiously on the thighs of his jeans. It was clear he had run to the cave with important news, but as with so many of the younger brethren, he had to be taught proper respect first.
“In the presence of our god’s altar, Arkady,” Vassily said, “you will address me in the sacred tongue, not the corrupt language of our adopted land. Is that clear?”
Arkady’s face flushed with embarrassment. “Yes, High Priest,” he answered in Nesili.
“Deliver your news,” Vassily said.
“We have confirmation our enemies have left Borneo,” Arkady said. “Our brother in the…” He paused, struggling to find words that didn’t exist in the ancient language. Vassily nodded, allowing him to substitute Russian words for them. “…in the airport reports both the man and the woman were on a flight to Turkey this morning.”
“And the Star of Arnuwanda is with them?”
“Yes. Our brother caught it on the…” He struggled for the words again. Vassily was losing patience with this young one, as he often did with so many of them. The younger generation seemed less interested in serving Ulikummis than in the mere fellow-feeling of being a member of the group—that and indulging in the occasional violence their god demanded. Vassily wearily signaled permission with a wave of his hand, allowing Arkady to use Russian words again. “Our brother caught sight of the Star in the baggage X-ray, but without privacy he could take no action at the time. The flight landed in Antalya this afternoon. The man and woman were spotted checking into a hotel.”
Vassily nodded. “Have our brothers in Turkey keep eyes on them at all times. I must be informed of their every move.”
“Yes, High Priest.” Arkady bowed stiffly. “Shall I gather the brethren and tell them to ready themselves for travel?”
“Not yet. Have the thieves followed for now, but take no action against them until my order.” Vassily picked his staff up from the ground. “What news of the others we fought? The army of outsiders?”
“They are gone,” Arkady replied. “They left us no trail to follow.”
Bad luck, Vassily thought. The first Eye was in their possession and would have to be retrieved. But the Star of Arnuwanda was the priority. It had to be captured at all costs. Only the Star could lead them to Teshub’s Spearhead.
Vassily returned to the altar, knelt before it. How foolish the old storm god had been, hiding such immense power from men in the name of mercy. Mercy was a word without meaning to Ulikummis, as the world would soon find out.
The boat was named the Ashina Tuwu and belonged to one of Daniel Wingard’s colleagues, an engineering professor at Akdeniz University who had made a bundle from an invention of his, something involving lasers. He reluctantly agreed to lend the boat to them. A Hatteras 77 Convertible, the Ashina Tuwu was more yacht than fishing boat, with black-tinted windows lining the flybridge, two luxury cabins belowdeck, and a streamlined white fiberglass hull that sliced effortlessly through the water as Gabriel steered it out of its mooring at the Setur Antalya Marina and into the open Mediterranean Sea. Traveling at a speed of 33 knots, it wouldn’t take them long to reach the coordinates they’d calculated from the map.
Daniel joined Gabriel on the flybridge, taking one of the riding seats beside the helm chair. Four state-of-the-art displays were embedded in the forward console just past the steering station: compass, speedometer, sonar, and a touch screen where the ship’s computerized system monitored everything from engine diagnostics to fuel transfer and tank levels. Gabriel would have preferred a more old-fashioned bridge, with fewer controls—fewer things to go wrong—but you made do with what you had.
“Where’s Joyce?” Daniel asked over the low hum of the engine.
“Belowdecks,” Gabriel replied, his eyes scanning the horizon. “She’s checking on the dive equipment.”
Daniel nodded. “I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t found her, Gabriel,” he said. “She came very close to dying, didn’t she?”
“Yes. We both did.”
“This isn’t what I wanted for her,” Daniel said. “This life. Don’t get me wrong, I was happy when she showed an interest in archeology and anthropology. In fact, I took quite a bit of pride in it, knowing I’d had a hand in it. Her favorite uncle.” He smiled weakly. “When she was younger, she would spend more time with me than with her parents. I would tell her stories about all the amazing things I found whenever I went on digs. You should have seen the way her eyes lit up, hearing about it. I knew even then that she had the bug. I hoped she might find a good university to teach at, do some traveling, work a dig site or two during her off time. The usual routine. But that’s not how it turned out.”
“What happened?” Gabriel said.
“You did,” Daniel said. Gabriel didn’t say anything, just continued steering. “I remember the day she brought me a copy of National Geographic and asked me if the man on the cover was the same boy she’d met all those years ago at my house in Maryland. I told her yes, it was. You remember that article?”