The Source - Michael Cordy [96]
When it was over the nymphs made their way back down the tunnel, reverting to the same fractured melody they had sung on the way up. Ross pressed himself deeper into the recess to watch them pass. It seemed that even in this miraculous paradise nature had to maintain a balance, however cruel. For every birth there had to be a death. One in, one out.
As soon as the singing receded, he ventured out to where they had been standing and looked up to the next level. Ahead, he could see the tunnel leading to the source of light. To its right was the dark chamber, its walls pocked with tunnels and holes. A jutting shape, which didn't fit with the crystalline rocks, caught his eye. It took him some seconds to see that it was a sword. Its blade was encrusted with crystals but the handle and hilt were clearly recognizable. He looked round and saw, encased within the rocks, a breastplate punched with holes and half of a helmet. All lay only a few yards from the dark holes and in that instant he knew they had belonged to the ill-fated conquistadors who had climbed this passage to what they thought was treasure. He thought again of the passage in the Voynich.
The scholar priest watched each of them disappear into the tunnel and for many minutes nothing happened. Then the screaming started. And the stream turned red with their blood.
If they had kept to the path on the upper level the conquistadors would still have fallen prey to the rock worms. Their armour and weapons, invincible against the Inca, were useless against such predators. He shuddered at the image of twenty-one men being butchered like the nymph. No wonder it had been a bloodbath.
He looked up the passageway towards the beckoning light. Unlike the conquistadors, Ross knew it wasn't the glow of treasure but something far more valuable. A famous quotation from Louis Pasteur came to mind: 'I am on the verge of mysteries and the veils are getting thinner.' Excitement and frustration pulsed through him. Just out of reach was what promised to be the holy grail of geology, of all science, the point of origin for life on this planet – and a certain cure for Lauren. He watched the shapes moving in the dark, guarding the passage to whatever was up there. He was tantalizingly close to the most incredible discovery in Earth's history – something that had given birth eventually to humanity, although only one man had ever seen it – yet he couldn't reach it. If only he had more time to find a way to get past the creatures, as Father Orlando had.
Ross licked his dry lips, opened his mouth and replicated the nymphs' two-note chant. Immediately, the movement in the holes stopped.
He fell silent and the movement started again. Some of the creatures shot out of the holes, jaws snapping. It seemed that the chanting not only stilled them, but also primed them to expect food. He sang the notes again. The creatures instantly retreated to their holes and froze. He stopped and they sprang into life once more.
Was this how Father Orlando had eventually reached what he had called el origen?
Ross wondered how much further away the source was. He also wondered how long the creatures would stay immobile if he maintained the chant, and whether, once he got past this section, he would be safe. He thought of the crystal in his backpack. Sister Chantal was convinced it was enough to cure Lauren, and she had almost as much at stake as he did. He should he grateful for what he had, hurry home and not look back. And yet—
Bang.
The sharp report was muffled but unmistakable.
Bang.
Another report. Then silence.
He turned, horrified, and ran back to the antechamber.
Why would anyone be firing a high-powered rifle in the garden?
57
Moments earlier
For an orphan bastard born in the gutters of Naples, Leonardo Torino had experienced many triumphs in his life, not least the day he became Superior General of the order that had moulded him. Nothing, however, came close to the elation he felt now.