The Sacred Vault_ A Novel - Andy McDermott [122]
‘But he didn’t do anything to stop us, did he?’ said Eddie as he shimmied up the hanging ropes. ‘He could’ve killed us in our sleep if he’d wanted.’
‘Maybe . . . maybe he was warning us,’ Nina suggested, not liking the idea as soon as she said it.
Eddie looked down at her. ‘About what?’
‘I don’t know. I mean, we were in enough physical danger finding this place, but . . .’ She tried to dismiss the thought, and climbed up after Eddie.
Another room carved out of the cliff awaited her on the next tier, stone figures framing the arched entrance. As Kit climbed up, she shone her flashlight inside. It was considerably deeper than the ground-level chamber. Bundles of wood were stacked haphazardly near the doorway . . . but further back, the torch beam found something more regular.
Wooden boxes.
She advanced inside, bark fragments crunching under her boots. The boxes were old, the rough wood discoloured and mouldering, but the utilitarian construction was unmistakably the product of the industrial era. And as she got closer, she picked out words stencilled on them.
The language was English.
‘Nina? You coming?’ Eddie asked from the entrance.
‘Eddie, look at this.’ She crouched beside one of the boxes, reading part of the text. ‘“577/450 Martini-Henry”. Any idea what it means?’
‘It’s ammo,’ he told her. ‘Point five seven seven calibre with a four-fifty cal round. The Martini-Henry was a really old rifle.’
‘How old? And who used it?’
‘The British Empire. Don’t know exactly when - Victorian times, I suppose.’
She straightened. ‘Which means the colonial-era Brits found this place too. They definitely would have made a record of it . . . if they’d ever returned.’
‘You’re saying whoever lived here killed anyone who found it?’
‘Looks that way.’ They returned to the ledge, where Kit was waiting.
‘So who were they? And when did they leave?’
A faint sound reached them over the wind’s constant wail: an echoing whisper.
Growing louder.
More voices joined the sinister chorus, the mutterings coming from all round them. Metal scraped and clinked against stone.
‘I don’t think they did,’ Nina whispered.
Men emerged from the dark openings below them across the valley. Through the falling snow, the only details she could make out were that they all wore robes of dark blue and their heads were shaven.
Eddie looked down through the gap in the ledge. ‘Shit. There’s more of them underneath us.’
‘Who are they?’ Kit asked nervously.
‘Guardians,’ guessed Nina. ‘They protect the Vault of Shiva. And I think they’ve been doing it for a very long time.’
‘Maybe we can talk to them.’ Kit called down to the shadowy figures in Hindi. His words didn’t appear to have any effect, more men coming out of the chambers.
‘What did you say?’ Nina asked.
‘I told them I’m a police officer, and that we mean them no harm.’
‘I don’t think they believed you!’ Eddie cried. ‘Down!’
He pushed Nina to the floor. Something flashed across the narrow valley and clanged off the stonework just above them before spinning away. Kit ducked as another object scythed at him. It hit the wall with a ringing screech and landed in the snow beside Eddie. A flat hoop of gleaming steel about nine inches across, a chakram, inscribed with Sanskrit text - and with a razor-sharp outer edge, as Eddie discovered when he tried to pick it up.
‘Ow! Fuck this Xena bullshit,’ he growled as another chakram slashed overhead. He took out his gun. Their attackers clearly recognised the weapon, warning shouts prompting them to move into cover. He heard movement on the tier below and aimed the Wildey down through the gap. A robed figure darted out of sight.
‘What do we do?’ said Nina, anxiously watching the entrances on the far wall. Faces stared back at her from the shadows. Hiding in the nearby chamber was not an option: it had no other exits, an inescapable trap.
‘If I take a couple down, it should put the others off.’ Eddie pointed the gun at one of the archways, the faces instantly vanishing into darkness. ‘Just need a good shot