Chapter Fifty
TALIK
Talik jumped into the shaft, hitting the ground with a loud thump. The rope ladder had not so conveniently stopped a good twenty feet above the ground and had been drawn back up to the surface as soon as he had released it.
He waited until his eyes adjusted to the darkness before he moved, mentally chiding himself for not packing a flashlight.
Although, the bright green light coming through the ground was a dead giveaway that he was in the right place.
For a heartbeat, he paused, holding his breath, waiting for the telltale signs of scurrying rodents, but he heard nothing.
At least he didn’t need to be concerned about rats.
The bottom of the shaft was wider than the top, about twenty feet in diameter, where roots and rocks hung precariously from the sides.
One decent-sized explosion or impact on the surface, and it could very well come rushing down on him.
He was also farther underground than he had expected, a good fifty feet from the surface.
Hopefully their energy expenditure was impacting Ninhursag—there had been a split second just before he had launched himself down here that she had winced.
A small cut on her shoulder had gushed black blood.
The sight had given him hope that he might be able to pull his plan off.
Give Khalida what she really wanted and stop the Anki.
He walked toward the broken piece of material sticking out of the ground, it was the only piece that was near him. He traced the edges. Metal.
“Hey!” one of the human wayfarers yelled from above, their voice fading as it reached him.
Talik ignored them. The bright green light beams looked like they were coming from underneath the ground at the center of the shaft.
Kneeling, he sent a silent prayer to any god or devil who might be on his side and started to dig.
Pulling off clumps of clay, burnt earth, and dead tree roots, he maneuvered himself around the growing light.
He really hoped the ground wasn’t booby-trapped.
Continuing to clear the dirt out of the way, he started to excavate underneath the object.
Loosening it from the hold the earth had on it.
Whatever it was, the material was cool to touch, and felt like it was the size of an oversized ostrich egg.
Without removing the object, he kept the loose soil over it, so he wouldn’t be blinded by its brightness, and began to trace the outer layer, trying to identify the shallow carvings that seemed to cover every part of it.
Not for the first time, he really wished dead languages were his specialty.
“Atlantean,” Ninhursag sang out.
Talik ignored the call, too focused on the circular object.
The tracings were similar to those that covered the box they had found in the catacombs.
Perhaps another legacy from Vandana and another clue on how to find the O’hurani and Atlantis.
The ground around him shook. Two blaster rounds went off near him—warning shots if he wasn’t mistaken, but he didn’t flinch.
In the distance, one of the creatures screamed.
The sound went through him, leaving him with an ache through his body.
Ninhursag was clearly not a patient god.
He gritted his teeth and pulled out the object out, grunting at its heaviness.
It weighed at least thirty pounds. Cradling it in his arms, he rubbed the outside with his sleeve, loosening the rest of the dirt.
The green light grew brighter, allowing him to see his surroundings properly, and for a heartbeat, he wished he hadn’t.
Teeth and bone fragments littered the dark soil, bright white specks, too numerous to count and too small to identify if they were animal, human, Atlantean, or all three. “Dirt stays on.”
He walked toward where the ladder should be, using the green light as a makeshift flashlight. Holding the object in the air, he waited a moment before the ladder was dropped. This time, it was less than six feet from the ground.
“Fucking bastards,” he muttered under his breath as he reached around and grabbed one of the pouches the wayfarers had had the foresight to give him before carefully placing the object in there, then covering it with cloth.
It instantly plunged him into darkness. With one hand on the ladder, because he didn’t trust them, he attached the pouch to the belt on his right hip, before he subtly double-checked the iron-coated knives he still had hidden beneath his clothes.
He looked at the second empty pouch and up the ladder.
The wayfarers had no idea what the artifact was, and he could use that to his advantage.
Crouching, he filled the second bag with dirt, making sure it weighed the same as the one carrying the ovoid shaped artifact.
He stood, and for the first time that day, he smiled.
None of Ninhursag’s guards had bothered to check if Talik had any weapons. He wasn’t sure if it was sloppiness or narcissism. Either way, it suited him. He grabbed the ladder. The wooden step was not stable, but it would last long enough and bear his weight.
Glancing up, he half smiled at the bright sun and clear blue wintery sky. It was perfection, as if it had been painted by a maestro. As Khalida would say, it was a glorious day for a battle
***
TALIK
Talik pulled himself up and jumped carefully so as not to lose the pouch or his knives.
The wayfarers stood guard around Ninhursag, their weapons held carelessly by their side as they stared at him. A mixture of blasters and knives. The one with a red ruby on its hilt caught his attention. It looked out of place among the guards.
He counted four guards, only seeing the human wayfarers.
The Atlantean traitor appeared to not be with them.
Ninhursag stood in the center, but there was something different about her—a sallow glow to her alabaster skin, her midnight black hair not as lustrous.
Black liquid dripped from her shoulder. Ninhursag may not be able to die, but she could be wounded.
Her powers must be draining. Not quickly enough for his liking, but enough that his harebrained plan may work.
He grabbed the pouch, shaking it in front of him.
The bag was slightly heavier than it had been in the shaft.
Ninhursag lurched, closing the distance between them within a heartbeat.
Her beautiful face twisted into a passive smile as her reptilian eyes glowed neon.
She outstretched her hands, waiting for him.
He would have fallen for it, if he wasn’t expecting her.
But the hypnotizing spell surrounding her was weaker than before, and this time it was tinged with the scent of wet cotton candy.
Something had changed. Ninhursag’s alabaster skin had taken a slight green tinge.
In her current state, it was easier to ignore her voice within his mind and the sweet promises she offered him.
Unfortunately for her, immortality and power were not what he wanted most in life.
He shook the pouch again. The subtle sound of something sliding against metal made him hesitate.
He hadn’t realized that there was something in the shell and had assumed it was hollow.
It hadn’t made a single noise during the climb up, and he had not been quiet or gentle.
But the sound was not enough for him to stop taunting Ninhursag.
She didn’t look surprised at the sound, which told Talik that Ninhursag had known that there was something else in the oversized egg-shaped artifact. The ?a, or whatever it really was.
He held the pouch out behind him, farther out from her reach, and bowed as low as he could. “My queen.”
“Atlantean.”
Talik hid a grimace as he forced himself to continue the bow. “My queen, if you give me the honor of calling me by my name, it will bless me for all of eternity.”
Ninhursag glared at him. “Talik, insolence does not suit you.”
He slowly rose, careful to keep the pouch out of her reach and next to him. Ninhursag hadn’t even tried to take it. She must need him to voluntarily hand it over.
The gallu closest to him opened their mouths.
A fever-pitch scream cut through the air, growing in intensity until it vibrated through him.
Talik’s body shook with pain as the screams echoed through Ninhursag’s connection to him.
Bile rose in the back of his throat as every single one of his cells felt like they were being pulled apart by a black hole.
He staggered backward, trying to increase the space between him and the others and hoping that distance would decrease Ninhursag’s stronghold on him.
The god stumbled, pain etched on her face as she tried to steady herself. She reached out to him, but he was too far for her to grab.
Talik’s mind worked at a hundred miles an hour. Whatever was happening to Ninhursag was not his doing. Through the pain, he glanced around. The tourists were still on the ground, unmoving, and appeared unaffected by the screams. Lucky them.
The earth vibrated beneath him seconds before the white wall surrounding them shattered into small pieces.
Grunting, he hit the ground hard, careful to shield the pouch from any damage.
In his periphery, the wayfarers moved closer to Ninhursag as she violently shook.
Black blood dripped from her hands. The entire inner perimeter was gone, had collapsed like a domino, but hadn’t touched the outer wall perimeter—that still surrounded them.
He squeezed his eyes shut as Ninhursag’s scream viscerally cut through him.
A fire burned through his hand, and he automatically dropped the pouch, immediately cursing himself for letting a bit of pain control him.
This time he was careful to only touch the material and not the metal.
He glanced at his hand. A third-degree burn was slowly knitting itself together.
When even you will not be able to touch the artifact without, how do I put this...spontaneously combusting.
Ninhursag’s words reverberated through him. Time was not on his fucking side.
He scrambled to stand, forcing down the nausea as he secured the pouch on his belt loop and hoping that it was enough layers between him and the artifact not to burn him.
The collapse of the wall hit Ninhursag’s power harder than he expected. It could also be what was in the pouch. The artifact could be amplifying what was happening around Ninhursag. He tried to move, but a sharp pain stopped him.
He looked up and stared at the violet-eyed Atlantean then followed his gaze.
One of Talik’s iron-coated knives stuck out of his own side, halfway down his torso, between his ribs. The Atlantean went to grab the pouch, but Talik pulled out the knife, flipped it and slammed it into the wayfarer’s chest, twisting the knife deeper as he forced the taller Atlantean backward.
And he had been worried that Khalida was going to be the one stabbing him.
Ninhursag screamed again, and the skies darkened in response.
The crack of thunder was sharp and long, a violent call to arms. Talik stumbled.
His head threatened to split open as he released the knife, grabbing the pouch.
The Atlantean snarled at him as he pulled the knife out, throwing it at Talik’s feet as he turned and ran toward Ninhursag.
A black mist materialized near Ninhursag and her guards, the area around them glimmered. As a shadow appeared from the light, disappearing with Ninhursag before he could blink.
Talik’s fingers were sticky as he tried to stem the blood flow...seconds turned into a minute.
He should have stopped bleeding by now.