Area 51: The Legend (15 page)

The Black Sphinx crouched in its depression, obviously created by technology far beyond what humans possessed. Its eyes glittered as if possessed by a malevolent intelligence. Donnchadh felt an uncontrollable shiver each time she gazed upon the Hall of Records. It held both a promise and a threat—and often she wasn’t sure which she considered to be the stronger of the two.

After a month in the area, they finally found the opportunity they were looking for: There was to be a celebration of the harvest during a night of the full moon, and it was said that some of the Airlia would most likely appear that night. It was time to do what they had come here for.

As darkness set, Gwalcmai and Donnchadh were hidden among a jumble of building stones on the edge of the Sphinx pit. They had arrived there early in the morning and now waited until the sun was well down in the west. Then they moved.

It quickly became clear that the high priests relied primarily on fear for security. There were a handful of Guides around the Sphinx depression, but Gwalcmai and Donnchadh were able to avoid them and make their way to the small open space between the paws of the Sphinx. A statue stood there, on a six-foot-high pedestal. Using her medallion, Donnchadh opened the door in the pedestal and they entered the Roads of Rostau.

Following the directions she had memorized from the
Wedjat
reports, Donnchadh led the way. The tunnels were dimly lit by glowing strips along the ceiling. The walls were perfectly cut, the result of Airlia technology that they themselves had used on occasion.

Donnchadh paused when Gwalcmai placed a hand on her arm. They both listened. There was a clicking noise, and it was coming closer. They both huddled against the floor on the side of the tunnel and drew their cloaks over their bodies. Peeking through a gap in her cloak, Donnchadh saw the creature that the
Wedjat
had described come toward them. It paused for a long time less than three meters away, waiting. The tips of the black arms glittered, razor-sharp points in the dim light.

Donnchadh felt she was close to passing out from shallow breathing, afraid that the creature would pick up the noise of air coming in and out of her mouth. Her body ached, a dozen itches afflicted her that she had never noticed before, and her heartbeat sounded incredibly loud inside her own head. Fear was what the Airlia relied on with much of their automatic defensive systems—it was something they had learned on her home world. To remain in place when this machine appeared was the last thing a person wanted to do and that was why the technique worked. The Airlia had underestimated their own creation on her world and she planned on making them pay the price on this world for the same mistake.

After a tense thirty seconds, the thing, discerning no movement, finally moved on, disappearing around the corner. They waited another twenty minutes before Gwalcmaifelt it was safe to move again, then continued downward, deep under the Giza Plateau.

After so many centuries together there was no need for the two of them to talk. They moved as one, covering each other as they progressed. They entered a narrow corridor, barely wide enough for three abreast.

Donnchadh paused before a set of bars. On the other side were two black tubes resting on stone slabs. Deep sleep tubes, just like the ones in their craft, which they had appropriated from the Airlia.

Donnchadh saw that the tubes had been modified in one important way—each was secured on the outside with a latch, preventing whoever was inside from being able to open the lid. After touching the controls and programming the tube to bring whoever—or whatever—was inside out of the deep sleep, she pulled aside the latch on the closest tube and swung the lid up.

Inside was a tall creature, appearing human, with very pale skin and bright red hair. His skin was stretched tight over his bones, making him appear skeletal. His eyes were screwed shut against the invasion of dim light. His body twitched and shook as the deep sleep faded from his cells.

Donnchadh leaned close and spoke in the language of the Airlia. “The Gods must die or you will never escape this. You will die a miserable death after a long and worthless life.”

The words echoed off the stone walls of the chamber and the shocked face of the creature inside as he comprehended them. The eyelids rose. His eyes had a reddish tint to them and the suggestion of an elongation of the pupil. Evidence, Donnchadh knew, of his Airlia roots. Gwalcmai was standing in the entrance to the cell, watching back the way they had come, sword in hand.

Donnchadh placed a finger on the creature’s throat as she peered deep into his alien eyes. There was the tip of a shuntimplanted in the skin. “You’ve been used for a very long time, haven’t you?”

The creature sat up. He was secured to the inside of the tube by a chain around his waist. There were straps around his legs, arms, and torso with leads to the side of the tube— the stimulators that kept the muscles active during the deep sleep, Donnchadh knew. She saw him look at the other tube. Donnchadh went over to it and powered it down, tapping the correct hexagonals. Then she opened it. A female was inside.

Donnchadh went back to the male. He had not spoken a word. He was staring at her, waiting. Patience was a virtue that Donnchadh could appreciate.

“You won’t last much longer,” she said. “You have no choice. If you do not act, you will eventually die. Each time they drain you, the percentage of their blood in you is reduced and the human percentage grows. Soon you will no longer be effective for their needs. Then they will take another human female and make your replacement. They may already have a child, like you were once, growing up, guarded closely on the surface, ready to come here and be placed in this tube and drained as needed. They are very good at planning for their own needs and pleasures.”

The male finally spoke. “How do you know this?”

“It is their way. They are not Gods, but creatures from—” Donnchadh pointed up. “From among the stars. They use us—humans—and they use you, half of their blood, half-human. It is hard for me to determine which is the worse of their sins. At least what they are doing to you is obvious. Their rule of the humans is more devious, pretending to be that which they aren’t.” She shrugged. “There is also the possibility that the Gods may decide to go into the long sleep, as their brethren have done in other places, in which case they will kill you and the others they keep down here, as you will longer be needed.”

The male seemed confused. Donnchadh imagined this was all too much for him to grasp, but she knew the clock was ticking. They couldn’t stay here and chat. Gwalcmai glanced into the cell and she nodded.

The female spoke. “Why do you want to help us? You are human. We aren’t. We’re half like them.”

“Because you must hate them as much as I do and more than those above,” Donnchadh explained. “Most humans”—she shook her head—”they are like sheep. Simply happy their harvest comes in and the Gods make all the decisions for them.”

The female spoke again. “You cannot kill the Gods. They are immortal.”

Donnchadh pulled aside her robe, revealing six daggers tucked into her belt. “With these you can. They were made by the Gods themselves for use against each other.”

The female half-breed remained skeptical. “Even if we kill the Gods, the priests will then slay us, won’t they?”

Donnchadh looked at the female. “Not if you are immortal.”

The male was the first to grasp the significance. “The Grail?”

Donnchadh nodded. “You kill the Gods. You go into the Black Sphinx and recover the Grail, which is hidden there, then partake as has been promised by the Gods since before the beginning of time. You become immortal.”

“Who are you?” the male demanded.

“My name is Donnchadh. My partner and I have fought the Gods in other places. That should be enough for you. Your enemy is our enemy.”

“Your enemies are our parents,” the male said.

“One of your parents.” Donnchadh stared at him. “Yourother parent was human, taken by an Airlia—the Gods— for their pleasure and to produce you so they can use you for their pleasure also. The Gods deserve neither your homage nor your respect. They will drain you and kill you without a second thought once they have a replacement ready or if they no longer desire the pleasure your blood brings them.”

“How can we do this that you propose?” The male rattled the chains holding him in the tube.

Donnchadh pulled a long piece of Airlia metal from inside her cloak. “Tonight. After the ceremony of the solstice. You can follow the Gods who oversee it from the ceremony to their hidden places along the Roads.” She placed the tip inside one of the links of chain that bound him. “Do you want your freedom?”

The answer was what she expected. “Yes.”

Donnchadh applied pressure and the link gave way. She worked quickly and soon the male was free. As he climbed out of his tube, Donnchadh went to the female and freed her. She saw Gwalcmai roll his eyes as the two creatures embraced. She held up a hand, begging his patience. But even she was shocked as the male put his mouth to the female’s throat and began to drink her blood.

“We don’t have time for this,” Donnchadh said. “The ceremony has started above. You do not have much time to free the others and be ready.”

The two were whispering to each other. Donnchadh could feel Gwalcmai’s impatience permeate the cell. “If you do not act now, you will die.” She didn’t wait, moving out into the corridor and going to the next cell, which Gwalcmai had just opened.

“And who are you?” the male asked Gwalcmai.

“My name means nothing to you. I was called Gwalcmai, long ago. I have had other names and I will have others in the future.”

“I am Nosferatu and this is Nekhbet.”

Gwalcmai shrugged.

“Vampyr and Lilith are in here,” Nosferatu added as they went into the second cell. Donnchadh didn’t acknowledge this either as she opened up the two tubes and moved on to the third cell.

“Mosegi and Chatha,” Nosferatu said as Donnchadh opened the last two tubes, freeing the occupants.

One for each of the Airlia, Donnchadh thought as she broke the chains around the last half-breed’s waist. Done, she turned toward the exit, where Gwalcmai waited. “I will leave you to do what you must.”

Nosferatu put a hand out, stopping her. “Tell me more of the Gods. Why do they need to do this?” He touched the shunt in his neck.

“As I have said, they do it for pleasure. It is an elixir for them. They prefer it over pure human blood.”

“That is all?”

“Do you not relish the feeding you receive?” Donnchadh asked.

Nosferatu nodded.

“And was not her”—Donnchadh pointed at Nekhbet— “blood so much more pleasurable to you?”

“Yes.”

“Then you should understand.”

“We exist only for their pleasure?”

“Yes.” Gwalcmai nodded his head, indicating they needed to leave.

“It is said the Gods are immortal,” Nosferatu said.

Gwalcmai was restless in the corridor. “We must hurry.”

“In a sense,” Donnchadh said, “they are.”

“Then am I immortal?”

Donnchadh shook her head. “No. But if you continue to drink human blood to feed the alien part of your blood—and don’t get drained of any more of what you have—you can live a very, very long time. You can also go into the tube and use the deep sleep to let time pass without aging. I have seen it before. Where I came from. They did the same to my people.”

“Where are you from?” Nosferatu asked.

“You would not understand.” Donnchadh pointed to the end of the short corridor. “You can go to the right and get out a secret door near the Nile. The ceremony will start shortly in the Sphinx pit. Wait until the Gods who will oversee the ceremony appear, then follow them down the main Road of Rostau.”

“But—” Nosferatu clearly wanted to know more but Donnchadh left, following right behind Gwalcmai.

He glanced over his shoulder. “They will not be able to get into the Hall of Records.”

“Most likely not, since they do not have the key,” Donnchadh agreed.

“Then what purpose did freeing them serve?”

“It will cause trouble for the Airlia here.”

Gwalcmai wasn’t convinced. “We shall see.”

Donnchadh glanced over her shoulder at Gwalcmai. “Because of my sister.”

Gwalcmai frowned. “You never told me you had a sister.”

“Because she was dead to us the day she was taken by the Airlia to be used by the Airlia. As the mothers of those we just freed were used.”

“Did she have”—Gwalcmai searched for the word—”offspring?”

“Yes.”

Gwalcmai knew the fate of such humans and their offspring on their world—they had died when the Airlia main base had been destroyed. He switched the subject abruptly. “We were followed through the tunnels, you know that, right?”

“The machine?”

“No,” Gwalcmai said. “A human. The
Wedjat
. He is not as stupid as he appeared. He did his job—he watched.”

Donnchadh nodded. “Good. Then we will use him also.”

Donnchadh shoved open the door and walked into the Watcher’s small hut, Gwalcmai right behind her. The man leapt to his feet, a dagger in his hand, his family cowering behind him.

“Tell them to leave,” Donnchadh ordered in the ancient tongue. She pulled out her golden medallion and showed it to him.

The Watcher’s eyes widened at both the language and the emblem. He lowered the dagger and quickly barked commands at his family. They scurried out of the hut, disappearing into the darkness.

“There has been no one here since—” the Watcher began, but Donnchadh raised her hand, cutting him off.

“There is something you must do.”

Fools,” Gwalcmai hissed as the chant of the priests echoed off the stone wall below them.

“We serve for the promise of eternal life from the Grail. We serve for the promise of the great truth. We serve as our fathers
have served, our fathers’ fathers, and through the ages from the
first days of the rule of the God who brought us up out of the darkness. We serve because in serving there is the greater good for all.”

Donnchadh tapped Gwalcmai on the arm and pointed. “There.”