“Sure you can, mate.” Aussie sounded genuinely despondent.
“And I don’t need anyone’s help, either,” he said, looking at Savage.
So Savage accepted the message, raised his hands in surrender, and backed away. “It’s your call, kid.”
“I ain’t a kid!”
Whatever.
Savage looked at Alyssa who was cradling the two young Turks in her arms. Oddly, he had never heard the Turks speak but they communicated by the way they looked at him, their imploring eyes calling out to the priest who wasn’t a priest, a man of god who worshipped a god not their own, but a savior nonetheless. They could see it in his eyes.
In his mind, Savage thought of one thing: I’m not a priest. But in their eyes it didn’t matter. They believed in him. Suddenly he was aware of the knife at the small of his back, and the knife at his ankle.
Not now. Not yet. The time isn’t right. Harika smiled, and then she nodded. It was a light smile, a tic of an emotion, but Savage saw it clearly.
Butcher Boy raised his hand and circled his finger. “Let’s move, people.” And then: “Ms. Moore, what direction?”
She released the young Turks, who stayed close. “Not far,” she said. “Two, maybe three hundred meters behind the Crystal Wall.”
“Then let’s haul ass, people. I want the Turks to take point.”
“No way,” said Alyssa. “I’ll take point.”
“I don’t think so,” he returned. “You’re too valuable an asset.”
“And they’re not?”
“Certain people are expendable,” he shot back. “They are. You’re not. They take point.” He raised the point of his weapon until it was leveled at Harika, and began tapping his finger against the trigger guard.
Alyssa huffed in clear exasperation.
“I’m glad that you see it my way. Turks to point. Aussie, I need you to bring up the rear, since those things are somehow behind us. I’ll stay close to the point guards.”
“Got you, mate.”
Butcher Boy walked past Hall, who appeared to be looking for instruction and looked confused when he didn’t get it, and made his way to Savage. “Talk to you for a moment.”
They headed away from the team. When Butcher Boy felt they were out of earshot he spoke to Savage in hushed tones. “From one soldier to another,” he said. “Keep an eye on Carroll.” The way he spoke, it sounded more like a question than a demand.
Savage considered this. “I won’t do it as a soldier,” he said. “But I’ll do it as a decent person.”
Their gaze met for a moment longer. “I don’t care who you do it as,” he responded, “just as long as you do it.”
“I’ll do it.”
He nodded in appreciation. “Thank you.” And then he walked off calling out directions, calling out orders, people responding in chop-chop fashion.
Savage hung back and perused the chamber. Shadows pooled everywhere and he could not determine if they were moving or if it was just a play of his mind. Obviously he was hoping for the latter.
“Savage!” It was Butcher Boy. “We’re waiting on you! Let’s move!”
Savage waved his hand. Coming! With the Turks leading the way, they headed for the Master Chamber.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“Thank you.” Alyssa’s voice was barely above a whisper.
Savage leaned into her. “For what?”
“For helping me out back there when Hall was trying to act like a tough guy by slapping me down.”
“Yeah, well, you got to learn not to piss people off,” he said with a gentle smile.
“I can’t help myself with some people. And he falls under that category.”
Suddenly their mood shifted into something between somber and depressing. Savage turned and noted her elegant profile and considered how beautiful she really was, at the way her finely chiseled features formed the lines along her exquisite face. “I heard what he said about your friend,” he stated with regret. “Montario, is it?” She nodded. “I’m so sorry, Alyssa.”
Even though it was the first time he had called her by her first name, she didn’t respond as they maneuvered their way through dark warrens and passageways, side by side, his barometer holding steady.
The Master Chamber was not too far from the Room of the Crystal Wall, or the Central Chamber, which marked the epicenter of the temple’s top tier.
With Eser and Harika leading the way, holding their lamps forward and Butcher Boy holding the mouth of his weapon steady, they came upon a square room where the walls had been created by sheets of gemlike minerals — emerald green, ruby red, sapphire blue, the colors rich and bright.
On the floor, as her father related in the pages of his journal, was the circle of rings. The center circle, roughly the dimensions of a manhole cover and made of crystal quartz as pure as spring water, was the symbol ¥, the cuneiform character for the number one.
The outer ring that surrounded the center circle was fashioned of clouded quartz and bore the archaic figures ¥ — ¥, meaning 11, since they were separated by the dash. The next outer ring, the third ring, was made of clear quartz, the etched numbers ¥ — ¥¥ — ¥ - ¥, representing 1211. The fourth ring, bearing the etched numbers ¥ — ¥ - ¥ — ¥¥ — ¥¥ — ¥, meaning 111221, and so on, until the final ring held no numerals at all, but a blank spot for the correct set of numbers to be placed, the final piece.
Alyssa walked around the circle, around the rings, the light of the quartz reflecting up into her face giving her somewhat of an ethereal glow. Obsidian Hall ran his hands along the smoothness of the gemlike walls, putting his faith in his team to protect him, taking for granted that he was safe and well within a comfort zone.
Eser and Harika circled the rings with their lanterns held high. Butcher Boy and Aussie scoped the area for threats, while Savage stayed close to Carroll, who was fighting a battle of survival from his knees and coughing up blood.
“This is it,” Alyssa whispered in wide-eyed wonder. “The Riddle of the Rings.” She produced the pages regarding her father’s considerations of the missing numerals of the final ring. While tracing her finger across the numbers on the page, she sought for a pattern. “The first row: One,” she said softly and more to herself than anybody else. “The second row: One-One. Third row: Two-One. Fourth row: One-Two-One-One.” She couldn’t figure out a pattern. “Fifth row: One-One-One-Two-Two-One. Six row: Three-One-Two—”
1
11
21
1211
111221
312211
13112221
?
“Problem, Ms. Moore?” Hall broke her concentration. “It’s apparent to me that the last row needs the correct sequence of numbers from the twelve sets given on the final ring to fill in the appropriate combination.”
Deep down she wanted to throttle him. “I know that,” she told him. “Finding the right sequence, however, is the riddle.”
Hall placed his hands behind the small of his back and walked around the crystal rings. “I guess one set is as good as another, don’t you think?”
“No, one set of numbers is not as good as another.” She studied the final ring. Etched into the crystal circle were twelve sets of numbers. One set, however, was the correct value that would open the way to the lower level.
“I see math is not your strong suit,” said Hall, circling. She held her hand up to him so as not to interrupt her calculations. And then: “Mr. Aussie.”
Aussie made his way beside Obsidian Hall, who was pointing at the numbers along the final ring. “Do you see those numbers along the last ring?” he asked.
He did see twelve numerical sets: 1132122321, 1211312113, 1311211312, 1231221131, 1112113123, 1123312211, 1211322211, 1112311132, 1113213211, 1222133112, 1113321231, and 1123331121.
“Yeah, mate.”