“What the bloody ‘ell does that mean?”
“It doesn’t make much sense,” she said, rereading the lines. “’Should you solve… the riddle… before time runs low.’” For the moment the line was vague. What was plain, however, was ‘Choose your gate wisely, the Light you shall see; choose your gate poorly, forever darkness it will be.’ Obviously it was a reference to one of the three gateways. Choose the right one, then it grants the way to the Primaries. Choose the wrong one, then death — forever darkness it will be.
“Should you solve—”And then it hit home: “It’s a riddle within a riddle,” she said. “Look for another riddle. Look for more writing!”
Everyone scattered with the exception of Harika, who stood idle. They went back and forth with their lamps and found nothing.
Savage shrugged. “I can’t find a thing.”
Alyssa chewed softly on her lower. “The answer’s right in front of us. I know it.”
“Well, figure something out, Ms. Moore,” said Hall. “We certainly cannot go back. And it doesn’t appear that we can force our way through this gate.”
“We can’t rush this,” she returned. “The given clue says we must choose wisely, which means we have only one chance at this.”
“And if we don’t choose wisely?”
“Then forever darkness it will be. Obviously, a deadly surprise waits behind the two doorways that are incorrect.”
“When you say ’deadly surprise,’ do you mean certain death?”
“According to the indications written on this stone, yes. We have to pick the right door.”
She examined the writing once again. Turn the circle for the Kings of Self; the sands begin to flow; should you solve the riddle before time runs low, then the way to the Primaries shall you go. Choose your gate wisely, the Light you shall see; choose your gate poorly, forever darkness it will be.”
The Kings of Self were right in front of them.
…Turn the circle…
Turn the circle? She looked at the bone dial. Obviously it was there to serve a purpose. With a trembling hand she grabbed it.
“Careful, Ms. Moore.”
Slowly, she turned the dial in a clockwise direction; the bone handle grinding against the stone wall it was mounted on. After she made a full revolution, she stood back.
Nothing happened as everyone looked about, expecting the place to reshape itself.
But then it came in the form of tiny cracks and fissures that stretched across the slate the first riddle was etched on, until the slab fell away, revealing a second riddle underneath.
“There it is!” Savage pointed. “The second rid—”
Suddenly the earth began to shake. The walls were beginning to move.
…Turn the circle for the Kings of Self; the sands begin to flow…
The dial was a tripwire. Once activated, then the balances and weights begin to alter and change their surroundings. The sand was the force and weight pushing walls into place, but also the measure of time like an hour glass. Once the sand had completed its task, then what?
The temple trembled as Alyssa read the new riddle.
“Do hurry, Ms. Moore,” egged Hall. “Who knows what it is that is about to befall us.”
ейшых паэтаў філёзафаў
палкаводцаў, অবশ্যই вялікіх цহেলে
নীয় ароўяк цтва дыцыйны ы যুজনপ্রিয় গেই грэцкай эліністычнаথেকে й паэзіі і йооду пথেকে
It read: I am right, never wrong, and everyone that’s alive has me. What am I?
“Ms. Moore!”
“Shutup, Hall! You’re not helping!”
The earth continued to shake.
Time was running low.
…I am right, never wrong, and everyone that’s alive has me. What am I?…
I am… right. She turned and looked up at the Sculptured King sitting on the right throne: The King of Truth. He never lies.
Her mind began to fog over.
…Everyone alive has me…
…What am I?…
“Ms. Moore!”
And then the shaking stopped. Silence reigned, which was even more terrifying.
After a moment, there was a slight rumble as a ceiling panel at the chamber’s top entry pulled back. From the ceiling something long slid down the vertical tracks of both walls and extended across the room like an axle, from wall to wall, and settled into the tracks that followed the downward angle of the incline. Slowly, and since the incline was at 45 degrees, the axle began to roll downward, picking up speed with every turn, the crystal blades attached to the axle turning with the deadly spin of a tiller, to chop and dice.
Death spanning from wall to wall was rolling right at them with nowhere for them to go.
“Ms. Moore!”
She turned. The axle was picking up speed. The blades could no longer be seen because they were now moving in blinding revolutions.
She looked at the riddle. Her heart felt heavy in her throat. “I am right, never wrong, and everyone that’s alive has me. What am I?”
Nobody noticed Harika turn and begin to take the incline, one slow step at a time.
“Is that the riddle?” asked Savage.
“Yes!”
“A right side!” he yelled. “Everyone alive has a right side!”
They all looked at the right doorway — at the King of Truth, who never lies.
“Everyone, get to the right gateway!”
The axle was rolling very quickly and spinning madly.
Harika’s mind registered something, but her detachment was so great that it left her sense of awareness somewhat crippled.
The doorway beneath the King of Truth opened and everyone ducked inside. When Alyssa realized that Harika was not beside her, she turned to see her standing in the direct path of the ancient tiller.
“Harika!” She wanted to run to her, to pull her back to safety, but Savage held her back.
“It’s too late,” he told her sorrowfully. “I’m sorry.”
Harika turned on the incline, smiled, and then waved to her. Alyssa didn’t know whether she was waving to acknowledge that she heard her, or if she was simply waving goodbye.
The axle hit so fast, the blades so hard, pieces of body and tissue and blood and gore were diced until there was nothing left of Harika that was larger than a few centimeters.
Alyssa screamed as Savage pulled her inside the doorway.
A moment later the axle hit the gateway, stopping its momentum.
They had passed the trial of another riddle.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Savage was silent, Alyssa was sobbing, Hall was pacing, and Butcher Boy and Aussie were catching their breath.
And then there were five.
As Alyssa began to collect her wits, as Obsidian Hall roamed back and forth complaining and raking his fingers through his hair, while John Savage remained stoically quiet, Butcher Boy and Aussie got to their feet. Aussie had his knife and Savage’s Glock. And Butcher Boy had his assault weapon and what was left of his ammo.
Now dust laden and dirty, they looked like a rag-tag unit fatigued beyond imagination.
“Up, people,” said Butcher Boy. “Ms. Moore, you said we have now earned the right to move forward to the Chamber of the Primaries?”
“That’s what the scripture said.”
“Does that mean that there are no more tricks waiting for us up ahead?”
“I can’t guarantee that,” she said, wiping away the grime from her tear-smudged cheeks.
“Then we take our chances.” He pointed his weapon at Savage. “Point, Mr. Savage. You have now moved up the list as being the most expendable. You should feel good about yourself.”