“Here we go,” Temple whispered, and pushed them on ahead after the others had all descended into the depths of the ancient mountainside.
“We’ll pause at two-minute intervals,” he said. “And give you two a chance to look ahead and see if anything’s changed.”
“On it already,” Phoebe responded, touching her forehead under the helmet. “Multi-tasking.”
“That’s my girl.”
Orlando glared at him.
“Easy,” Phoebe whispered, reaching back to grasp his fingers.
He smiled. “Sorry. Without your big brother around, I have to protect you.”
“Oh? And what about you? Last I recall, you were the one getting your ass kicked by eels and needed me to save you.”
“Fight about who loves who more later,” Temple hissed as they rounded a corner. He raised the phone, spoke something into his microphone, and two more soldiers rounded the right-most corner and doubled back, standing guard.
“Through obstacle three,” came a voice over Temple’s headset. He ordered the team ahead, pushing them on. And then they were moving faster through a section relatively free of mines and traps. Orlando let go of Phoebe’s hand to adjust the light on his visor, and he ducked in several places as the cavern ceiling dipped. Seeing it in this viewpoint, from a higher angle than when he remote-viewed the village boy, left him disoriented.
A few more twisting turns, a short, steep descent, then a sharp turn, and suddenly they all stopped as the lead members went to work disarming another trap.
Temple turned around. “Okay, you two are up. Try RVing–” His eyes went wide. “Where’s Phoebe?”
Orlando spun, reaching out into the shadows. His light probed the walls, the corners. He darted back and turned the corner.
But she was gone.
As part of her multi-tasking, Phoebe was viewing the path ahead, and specifically trying to hone in on the Hummingbird. Hoping maybe the girl was still asleep, without her shield, but it wasn’t working.
Nothing but a wall of blue greeted her when she thought about the child. A repelling force like a shockwave, more powerful than she’d ever felt before, like she’d been slapped away from snooping where she didn’t belong. She groaned, slipped behind the last tier of squad members who kept moving, following their PDAs.
Hugging a wall and catching her breath, Phoebe finally shook her head and tried to follow the dark shadows and the flickering beams of light up ahead. But it seemed they’d sped up, the corridor lengthened, and no matter how fast she tried to move, she couldn’t close the distance. They rounded a corner and she was alone.
Panicked now, she moved faster, scuttling after them, holding out her hands, brushing the rough walls with her fingertips. Reaching a dead end, she turned her head left and then right, shining the feeble beam in each direction, stabbing into the endless gloom of both passageways.
She held her breath.
Listened.
And heard only scrapes and scuffles sounding from each hallway.
She turned back around, but the way she thought she had come from was now blocked by a solid wall of sandstone. She desperately wished Temple had fitted them with radios like the other team members, but now there was nothing to do but stay here and wait. She couldn’t call out and risk alerting the enemy.
Maybe she could RV the way. And for a second, she thought first about her brother, wondering how Caleb and Alexander were faring.
A glimpse—a flash of light in the gloom, and she saw them: following a woman in a gray flowing sari across a stretch of desert, toward a waiting boat on the Nile.
Smiling, she turned her attention to the corridor on her left, and as she was about to project her thoughts in that direction, her light caught the flash of something white darting out of view. Her breath caught in her throat and she staggered forward, mouth open. Still not daring to call out, she rushed ahead then skidded to a stop, suddenly terrified of setting off fish wire traps or buried mines.
Was this a trick?
I saw a face, she thought. Someone all in white, there for a moment, gone the next. Still fearing a trick, she moved cautiously. A few more steps, then she stopped. Flicked off her headlamp. Don’t want to give anyone a target.
Then she tried to peer ahead in her mind.
And once again she winced, reeling immediately from a wall of blue.
A sound up ahead like a throaty chuckling.
“Who’s there?” she called out.
Laughter again. Cruel and mocking.
This time, behind her.
She backed up. Flattened against the wall and crouched. Again she reached out with her mind, trying to see, but there was nothing in either direction, nothing but that awful blue, closing in around her on all sides like a sphere. Shrinking.
And then the laughter again. And footfalls approaching.
“Come out, come out…”
Oh god, it’s the Eye.
“I’ve got you now, another bird for my cage.”
A light sprang on, just feet away, the beam extending—
“I’ve got—”
-then freezing. Dust motes suspended.
“…you…” The word slowed, stretched and faded with a series of echoes as the light dimmed.
And Phoebe realized she was falling backwards, through the wall that now wasn’t a wall. A veil of blackness sucked her in, then resealed where she had been crouching just as time seemed to hiccup, then snap back into place.
“…now!” She heard the Eye speaking, but it sounded like it came from a great distance.
The darkness around her trembled.
Fists pounded on the other side of the wall and a defiant grunting reached her ears.
Dazed, she turned around and saw that she stood on a great precipice overlooking an impossible sight.
A glimpse only, lasting maybe four or five seconds. A time in which she took in an incredible vista, a chasm stretching miles across and just as deep, jagged cliffs encircling and enshrining a valley in the shadowy depths. The gloom was punctuated only by an array of lights—some sort of oddly purple phosphorescence—clinging to unnatural towers of rock or crystal, shimmering domes and palatial hillside gardens. The sound of underground streams reached her ears, the plunking of rocks into a cool lake. A fresh breeze rushed across her hair, cooling her skin, blowing back her dusty hair.
But then the image faded, the darkness closed in around her, and all that remained was a man in a white robe, with a gray beard down to his waist.
He smiled at her and said, “We have watched you for a long time, Phoebe Crowe. Welcome to a place no outsider has ever seen, except in the embrace of dreams that never linger for long upon waking. Welcome…” He spread his arms wide and the darkness behind him unclouded for just a moment, revealing the subterranean city in all its glowing splendor.
“…to Shamballa.”
Orlando wanted to race back through the tunnels looking for her, calling her name, but Temple hauled him back. He waved to two of his men and sent them back, hissing at them that they should have watched her.
“Now kid, we have to move on. We’re losing the element of surprise here.”
“But—”
Temple pulled on his arm and then they were rounding another bend, and then—according to the map, there should be one more looping passage, a quick descent and then the approach to the chamber where the Hummingbird and her father were being kept. “Come on,” he said. “We’re almost there.”