Bennett ate his bread and cheese, surprised at how hungry he was. Hupcka refilled his mug with hot coffee.
Rana stared down into the valley. She caught Bennett looking at her and smiled. “It seems like just yesterday,” she told him in a small voice, “that I was working for the Calcutta police force.” She shook her head. “How did I get here?”
Ten Lee looked at Rana above the rim of her mug. “You were called, Rana, as we all were called. We are here for a purpose.”
Rana looked up. “What purpose?”
Ten Lee, sitting in the lotus position with her back as straight as a bamboo cane, looked as thin as Buddha after his period of denial. She blinked her canted eyes and regarded Rana evenly. “I do not know. We will find out when the time is right.”
Rana half-smiled and looked at Bennett, who tried not to smile himself.
He finished his coffee, moved to the river and swilled out his mug in the water. He remained squatting on the bank, staring down into the valley. He tried to detect movement between the pale trees, the first sign of animal life down here, but saw nothing. When he returned to the camp, the others had bedded down for the night. He lay on his bedroll, closed his eyes and tried to sleep.
He must have succeeded, as he was awoken some time later by the murmur of voices. He rolled over and opened his eyes. Ten Lee was sitting cross-legged on her bedroll, eyes closed in meditation. Hupcka, Mackendrick and Rana were gathered around the stove, sipping mugs of coffee. He joined them, feeling surprisingly refreshed.
“How long have I been asleep?”
Rana passed him a mug of coffee. “About six hours, Josh.”
Hupcka was staring down the valley at the fungal trees. “I feel we’re getting somewhere,” he said at last. “The chamber is widening the further we go. Perhaps we’re almost there.”
“There?” Bennett asked.
Hupcka shrugged. “Wherever it was that Quineau claimed he made contact.”
They packed away their bedrolls and ten minutes later were ready to move on. Bennett and Hupcka led the way, striding down the gentle incline. They kept to the bank of the river which bisected the valley. On the far side was the forest of pale, leafless trees, as intricate and delicate as undersea coral. This side of the river was bare of vegetation save for a pale fungal growth which covered the ground and made walking treacherous. They made slow progress until the incline levelled out and the fungus gave way to bare rock.
Perhaps one hour later, as they were still trooping through the vast cavern, Bennett saw something. He happened to be looking to his left, to where the wan, ghost-like trees climbed the slope on the far side of the valley, when he caught a flash of movement from the corner of his eye. He turned and stared. He could have sworn that he saw a tall, upright figure move quickly into a stand of distant trees.
The others had halted. Mackendrick was pointing. “There,” he said, his voice unsteady. “I saw it too. It had…” He looked at Bennett. “It was watching us. It had red eyes, and it was watching us.”
Perhaps, had he been alone, Bennett might have persuaded himself that he was hallucinating. Mackendrick’s confirmation that he had indeed seen something filled him with unease.
They moved on. Bennett led the way with Hupcka, keeping close to the big man. The valley widened, and soon they left the forest in their wake. Now the terrain was flat on either side, a smooth expanse of dun rock stretching as far as the eye could see. At least here they knew that they were not being watched.
One hour later the ground began to slope downwards, and Bennett hurried ahead and then came to a halt as the valley floor dipped more dramatically. He caught his breath and stared, aware of the others pausing beside him and gazing in wonder at what stood before them. They were standing on the edge of a vast amphitheatre, perhaps two kilometres across, though more amazing still was the structure that occupied its centre.
A towering, monolithic ziggurat rose in a great series of steps connecting the floor of the great hollow to the stone high above. It was as if the ziggurat had been laboriously wrought from the solid heart of the mountain, as if the chamber had been expressly excavated to produce this startling feat of architecture, and then the jet stone polished to create a lustrous, midnight gloss.
The others halted at the edge of the amphitheatre, staring down in silence.
Only then did Mackendrick speak. “Christ,” he whispered. “Christ almighty, look!”
He swung his arm in a gesture encompassing the entire circumference of the chamber which contained the amphitheatre.
The pink radiance was faint here, and the distant walls were in shadow, but even so the serried rows of hollows in the surface of the surrounding rock could be seen, and within their dark depths the twin ruby points of staring eyes.
Bennett tried to deny the fact of what his senses were communicating, but as he stared with a mixture of awe and fear, he made out more than just the staring eyes. It was, he thought, a vast gathering of the august beings, a convocation. He guessed that there were hundreds, maybe even thousands, of individuals stationed silently in their hollowed caves. They sat with their great shanks crossed, their backs ramrod straight, their heads held high and staring ahead.
Mackendrick looked at Bennett. “Quineau said… over and over he said one word: temple. It didn’t mean anything at the time, of course. I didn’t give it a second thought.” He stared down at the polished jet ziggurat.
“I feel,” Ten Lee said in a whisper, “I feel as if I am being drawn towards the temple.”
Bennett nodded. Perhaps it was nothing more than the knowledge of the aliens’ massed regard that suggested to him, too, that they were being tacitly invited to continue.
He turned to Mackendrick. “Are you sure it’s safe?” he began.
“Of course it’s safe!” Mackendrick almost snapped at him. “You don’t think I came all this way… ?” He gestured impatiently. “Enough talk. Let’s get down there.”
They set off again, slowly this time, moving in a group down the steep slope towards the rearing ziggurat. The slope eventually bottomed out and they stood in the great dish of the amphitheatre, still perhaps a kilometre from the first step of the ziggurat. Only when they began walking again, and the structure grew before them so that they had to crane their necks to make out its summit, did the ziggurat’s true size become apparent. They were reduced to the size of ants as they stood in the shadow of the first step.
Before them, a long stairway was carved through the rock of the great step, leading to a shadowy archway high above, itself the size of a three-storey building. They began the steep ascent, the high steps—clearly not designed for human use—a final torture after so long a trek.
Perhaps ten minutes later they reached the top of the stairs. A wide apron of polished inlaid rock, as midnight dark as obsidian, stretched away to the arched entrance of the ziggurat proper. As one they made their way towards the awesome portal, their footsteps echoing on the burnished rock.
Bennett stopped suddenly. He made out movement in the shadow of the archway. The others came to a halt around him, staring.
A figure stepped from the entrance and paused before them, a human figure dressed in a simple robe and smiling at them with an expression of beatification.
“My friends,” he said, his voice as calm as his expression. “Do you come in the name of peace?”
Mackendrick stepped forward. “We come in peace,” he said. “I… I knew Quineau. He told me of the Ancients.”
The man smiled. “So Quineau made it back with word of the truth.”
“Carstairs?” Bennett said. “Is it really you?” He shook his head. “We thought you were dead.”
The gaunt, balding man, his face thin and pale from so many years spent underground, inclined his head. “Iwas dead,” he said. “A man called Klien shot me, many years ago.” He turned and gestured up at the ziggurat. “Welcome to the temple of the Ahloi,” he said.