The Sacred Vault_ A Novel - Andy McDermott [120]
‘My God,’ said Nina, walking out into the falling snow. The valley’s far end was obscured by haze and shadow, but she could see enough to be awed by the sheer scale of their discovery. She counted seven tiers on each side, rising about seventy feet up the rocky walls. ‘It must be thousands of years old. Over eleven thousand, if it’s the same place Talonor mentioned.’
Kit was equally amazed. ‘How can it never have been found? We’re only a few kilometres from one of the holiest sites in India - someone must have seen it!’
‘Nothing to see from up there,’ Eddie realised, pointing skywards. ‘We’re on the north side of the ridge, so it’ll never get any direct sunlight.’ He peered at the topmost tier. ‘The cliffs overhang it at the top. You probably won’t know there’s anything down here even if you’re looking right over the edge.’
‘The Vault of Shiva must be here, somewhere,’ said Nina, awe changing to excitement. ‘How long is the valley, do you think?’ ‘Only one way to find out,’ he said, gesturing along the canyon’s length. ‘Go and see.’
They started up the valley. The wind howled mournfully high above them. As they advanced, new features emerged from the gloom: lines strung across the canyon connecting the different levels. At first they were just single ropes, drooping under the weight of snow, but then more complex crossings appeared - ones with lines to support both feet and hands, and even actual rope bridges, swaying in the breeze high above.
Eddie regarded one dubiously. ‘No way that’s been here for eleven thousand years. Rope bridges don’t last long if someone’s not maintaining them.’
‘You think someone’s been here more recently?’ Kit asked.
‘Looks like it.’ Nina went to one of the arched openings, examining the carvings beside it before shining the flashlight inside. ‘Most of these inscriptions are in Vedic Sanskrit . . . but there are others in Classical Sanskrit, which didn’t come into use until some time around four hundred BC.’
She entered the chamber, finding it piled high with the trash of centuries. The ground-level rooms would flood during the spring thaw, so anything left in them was apparently considered worthless by the valley’s inhabitants. Much of what she saw in the torch beam had rotted beyond recognition, but she caught a glint of metal and carefully extracted it from the garbage. ‘And look at this.’
‘A sword?’ said Eddie.
‘A scimitar, or what’s left of one.’ She examined the corroded hilt. ‘And there’s text on it - it looks Arabic. Parts of India were conquered by Muslims from the thirteenth century onwards, so this has to date from at least then.’
‘I didn’t think they came this far into the Himalayas,’ said Kit.
‘It might have been an expedition, looking for a trade route to China - or even searching for the Vault of Shiva. Who knows? But they obviously got this far.’ She returned the sword to its place, and they continued up the canyon.
More ropes crossed the valley overhead, and Eddie also spotted other lines hanging down between levels and across gaps where the stonework had broken away. Even as the place fell into ruin, it was clear that somebody had still been living there. But nothing they saw could provide a clear idea of when it had finally been abandoned.
That line of thought soon left their minds, though. The valley’s far end loomed through the murk, a near-vertical wall of dark rock three hundred feet high. A huge stone staircase had once risen to the height of the uppermost tiers, but the structure had now almost completely collapsed into a vast pile of rubble. The only way up to the jutting stub remaining at the very top was by navigating the intact sections of ledges along the valley’s sides, criss-crossing back and forth on the ropes