Area 51: The Legend (16 page)

Six dark forms were hidden among a pile of building stone, also watching the priests prostrated before the paws of the Black Sphinx.

“So they didn’t run,” Gwalcmai said.

“Vengeance is powerful,” Donnchadh said. “And the lure of the Grail—”

Gwalcmai stiffened as two tall, thin figures appeared in the open door in the pedestal beneath the paws. One raised its right hand, six fingers splayed open. Donnchadh stared at the Airlia for several moments, then noticed someone moving to their right, in the shadows. She tapped Gwalcmai’s shoulder and pointed. “The Watcher.”

The priests got to their feet and left, going to the nearby temple to continue praying. The two Airlia disappeared into the black hole beneath the chest of the Sphinx. Soon all that was left in the open before the Sphinx was a lone high priest. As the imprinted man turned toward the door, the six half-breeds that Donnchadh had freed sprinted across the open space and attacked him.

“They’re actually doing it,” Gwalcmai whispered. He had expressed doubts to Donnchadh that the half-breeds would go back into the Roads, suggesting instead that they would simply take this opportunity to run away.

“Their vengeance overpowers all else,” Donnchadh said.

The six disappeared into the darkness, leaving the body of the high priest behind. After them went the Watcher, acting on Donnchadh’s orders.

Only two made it,” Gwalcmai said several hours later. “More than I expected,” Donnchadh said. They could see the Watcher along with two of the half-breeds, hidden along the edge of the depression.

“What are they waiting for?” Gwalcmai wanted to know. “The same thing we are. Reaction to whatever they managed to do in the Roads.”

All night long they had heard priests going throughout the surrounding area, ordering all to come to the Sphinx at first light, indicating that the Undead they had unleashed had achieved something in the warren of tunnels beneath them. As soon as it was light enough to see, Donnchadh knew what was coming—on top of the head of the Black Sphinx were two wooden Xs; behind them was a deep sleep tube.

“We should leave,” Gwalcmai said, as soon as he saw the Xs.

Donnchadh couldn’t respond. Her body had gone numb and her eyes were fixed on the objects on top of the Sphinx head. There were thousands of people gathered in the depression in front of the Sphinx, standing in absolute silence.

The door between the paws of the Sphinx opened and a group of high priests appeared, escorting three bound prisoners—half of those that Donnchadh and Gwalcmai had freed the previous night. All three were extremely pale and Donnchadh assumed they had been drained of their blood just short of the point of death. One of them—the one that had slept in the same chamber with Nosferatu—was also missing her right hand, the stump covered in a dirty linen bandage. They were moved up a ramp to the top of the Sphinx.

Then four Airlia appeared. The gathered humans dropped to their knees and bowed their heads, causing Gwalcmai to growl in disgust. The Airlia wore hooded black robes. They slowly walked up the ramp to the top of the Sphinx. Donnchadh could sense Gwalcmai’s tensing—he was, after all, a God-killer.

A high priest stepped forward and cried out to the huddled masses: “Behold the price of rebellion. Behold the price of betrayal. Behold the price of disobedience.”

Two of the prisoners were placed against the Xs, their arms and legs splayed against the wood. Their dirty robes were torn off, exposing their pale skin to the rays of the sun. High priests secured them to the wood using strips of leather that they first dipped in buckets of water. They worked from the tips of the extremities inward. Each strip of leather was an inch wide and they were spaced two inches apart.

The priests did this until both captives were secured up to their groins and armpits. When done, the high priest once more chanted: “Behold the price of rebellion. Behold the price of betrayal. Behold the price of disobedience.”

Gwalcmai grabbed Donnchadh’s shoulder. “We should leave. We do not need to see this. We’ve—” He stopped before completing the sentence.

“We’ve seen this before,” Donnchadh finished it for him.

One of the prisoners cried out in pain. Donnchadh closed her eyes, but that couldn’t stop the mental image of her father, tied to a similar cross, one made of black metal, with leather straps around his limbs. It was a horrible way to die as the slowly drying bands constricted, forcing blood from the extremities into the core of the body, allowing the victim to live a long time, while experiencing excruciating pain. Both prisoners were now screaming in agony.

Donnchadh nodded. “Let’s go.”

They slipped away from edge of the depression. As they did so, they heard the high priest call out one more time: “Behold the price of rebellion. Behold the price of betrayal. Behold the price of disobedience.”

THE
PAST
, 3,200 B.C.

Artad and Aspasia had negotiated and agreed to the Atlantis Truce, and both had also left behind A their agents to continue a covert war against the forces of the other. The Wedjat, founded by Gwalcmai and Donnchadh, watched these minions, following their actions over the millennia.

Almost five thousand years after Donnchadh freed the Undead from their prison under Giza, rumor trickled back to the
Wedjat
headquarters in England from the Watcher of Giza that something strange and unnatural was happening in the depths of Africa on the side of a massive mountain. These rumors came from travelers who emerged from the interior of the continent, floating down the Nile. A
Wedjat
was dispatched with specific orders to investigate these rumors.

It was an arduous journey, crossing the continent, traversing it north to south, then around the edge of the Mediterranean to the dark continent. And that was only the first half of the trip, and, as it turned out, the easiest. In Africa the
Wedjat
linked up with the Watcher of Giza and spent a month resting and recuperating and preparing for the journey to the interior. There the man learned a little bit more—the travelers reported a strange forest of black poles growing on the side of a massive mountain, one of a pair of white-capped peaks known to the people in the area as the Twin Sisters.

He also learned the disturbing fact that the
Wedjat
were not the only ones to hear of this strange occurrence. The Horus-Guides ruled in Egypt and they too had heard the rumors. The
Wedjat
departed Giza just two days ahead of an Egyptian military column with the same mission—to search out the truth of these rumors. Instead of going due south along the Nile, as the Egyptians did, the
Wedjat
traveled east to the coast and took transit in a trader’s vessel that plied the shoreline.

He traveled south, listening at each village and port the vessel stopped at for more stories of the black forest and the Twin Sisters. For weeks he heard nothing as he went farther and farther south along the coast. Finally, he found those who knew of the Twin Sisters. He continued south until he reached a point at which the locals told him the Twin Sisters were due west. He disembarked from the boat and struck out on land. Within a few days he could see one of the Twins himself, a white-capped mountain floating above the haze of the horizon to the west. From what he had heard, though, he needed to go to the second mountain to see the black forest. It took two more days before a second peak loomed on the horizon.

As the Wedjat approached from the east, the column of Egyptian soldiers, minus almost half their number after battling their way south from the headwaters of the Nile, also arrived within sight of the two mountains. The commander saw what was on the northern slope of the eastern-most mountain and, as he had been instructed, completed his report and immediately sent it back with his fastest riders toward the border of Egypt, where it would be forwarded by Imperial dispatch riders.

The Wedjat initially saw nothing strange on the second mountain as he approached it with the rising sun be hind him. He first swung to the south, between the two great peaks, and looped around the farther mountain. Thus it was almost a week after the Egyptians sent back their report before he could see the northern slope and what had caused such consternation among the ranks of the soldiers from Giza: on that slope, above the tree line, was a vast spider web of black, covering over four kilometers in diameter. Strange beasts stalked among the web, continuing to build and expand it.

The
Wedjat
, who had studied the scrolls in Avalon, had never read of such a thing. He also spotted the Egyptian soldiers about two kilometers away from his position. Seeing that they were doing nothing but observing, he found a position from which he could keep an eye on both the construction on the mountain and the Egyptians.

And then he waited.

Two weeks passed.

Shortly after dawn one day a small, glowing, golden sphere flew by. The
Wedjat
had read of such a thing—it was a tool of the Airlia. It circled the mountain, then disappeared to the north. He could tell that the Egyptians had seen the golden sphere also. The soldiers began packing up their camp. The
Wedjat
wondered what to do—stay there, or go back to Avalon and report on what he had seen? But whatever was being built on the slopes of the mountain was still under contruction. He decided to stay.

Two days later the Airlia craft came. Nine lean black forms against the blue sky. They came to a halt about five kilometers above the mountain, bracketing it. A golden light crackled at the tip of each of the craft and pulsed down to the ground, passing into the mountain. There was a momentary pause, then the top of the mountain exploded from within.

As far away as the
Wedjat
was, the blast wave lifted him off the ground and threw him twenty meters away. The sky darkened from smoke and dirt, turning day into a strange night. As the
Wedjat
scrambled to his feet, ears ringing, rocks and debris tumbled down about him, and he only narrowly escaped death.

He looked to the south, toward the mountain—or where a mountain had been.

2,528 B.C.:
THE
SOLAR
SYSTEM

The starship used a slingshot maneuver around the star to decelerate from interstellar speed. It was a small ship, a scout, and as the craft slowed, its sensors aligned on the signal that had diverted it to this system from its centuries-long patrol. The nose of the ship turned toward the third planet out as the data was analyzed. The signal was strange—a passive one, a uniform reflection of light rays of the system’s star from something on the planet’s surface, but there was little doubt the unusual effect was contrived by intelligence.

Searching out, analyzing, and then eventually reporting back concerning any intelligent life was the ship’s mission. The nature of the species that crewed it was to find, infiltrate, consume, and ultimately destroy any intelligent life not like it.

Having picked up no active scanning in the solar system or signs of advanced weaponry, the ship emitted an energy pulse as it sent a spectrum of scanning signals toward the third planet to determine the source of the crude signal.

Unknown to the crew, the pulse was noted by passive sensors as it penetrated the atmosphere and reached the surface of the planet. A sophisticated computer, operating on low-power mode, intercepted the pulse, analyzed it, and projected possible courses of action in a matter of moments. In low-power mode the options were limited and the course of action was quickly selected.

2,528 B.C.: STONEHENGE

Donnchadh opened the lid of the tube to a flashing red glow. She sat up, her body sluggish and uncoordinated after so many years in the deep sleep. She had to blink several times to focus her eyes. She saw Gwalcmai’s lid slowly swing up and he sat up as she climbed out of the tube, her bare feet touching the cold deckplate of the
Fynbar
. She quickly threw on a jumpsuit and boots.

“What is it?” Gwalcmai asked, his voice hoarse.

Donnchadh went to the ship’s control console and sat in the pilot’s seat. She powered up the main computer. She shut down the warning light. Data scrolled across the screen and she tried to make sense of it.

“The dish intercepted traffic between the guardians,” she told Gwalcmai. “Something’s happening.”

“What—”

“There’s a spacecraft inbound to this planet,” Donnchadh said.

“Another mothership?”

Donnchadh stiffened as more information was intercepted and interpreted by the equipment they’d taken from the Airlia on their own planet. “It’s not Airlia.”

“The Ancient Enemy?”

Donnchadh nodded. “A Swarm scout ship.”

Gwalcmai sat down in the copilot’s seat. “How are the Airlia responding? Are Aspasia and Artad waking?”

“No.”

“What?”

Donnchadh was concentrating on what the display wastelling her as it decoded the traffic between guardian computers. “They’ve set up an automated defense system.”

“Where?”

“Giza.”

“We can’t take any chances,” Gwalcmai said. “The Swarm scout ship has to be destroyed. If the Airlia system fails, we have to do it.”

Donnchadh turned her attention from the screen for the first time and looked at her partner. “What do you suggest?”

“We go there as backup.”

“Backup to the Airlia?”

“The lesser of two evils,” Gwalcmai said as he began powering up the ship’s systems for the first time in thousands of years.

2,528 B.C.:
THE
GIZA
PLATEAU

Things had changed in Egypt. The Black Sphinx still glowered at the morning sun, but behind its left shoulder the smooth limestone sheathing covering the newly constructed Great Pyramid of Giza caught the rays of light and uniformly reflected them into the sky, producing the radar signal that the Swarm scout ship had picked up. At the very top of the five-hundred-foot-high pyramid, a blood-red capstone, twenty feet tall, glistened, an alien crown to the greatest structure ever built by human hands. The massive structure stood alone on the stone plateau, towering over the surrounding countryside, the nearby Nile, and the Sphinx complex. It had been built by humans according to the plans of Rostau, written down so many years previously.