Matt Archer: Blade's Edge (30 page)

Will had crouched over Parker, protecting him from debris and sparks falling from the sky. Dozens of Takers soared over the center of camp, dodging a barrage of firepower. When I helped Will pick up Parker, Murphy ran by, arms loaded down with ordinance. He had a blinking light flashing on his helmet.

“What’s going on?” Will asked as we dragged our load to the next tent over.

“Take cover!” Uncle Mike’s yell echoed over the din of the fight. “Air support is coming in!”

Men ran between the tents, heading to the open field outside of camp. All of them had white lights blinking on the top of their helmets—signals to avoid friendly fire accidents from the Apache attack helicopters on approach.

Will and I grabbed Parker by the arms and hauled ass away from camp. A grenade burst in the air over the command tent not twenty seconds later. I looked up just in time to see two Apaches, flying low, plow right through the middle of the Takers’ crowd. Most puffed into mist but a few were sliced to bits by the rotors. Those that survived took off after the helicopters, heading away from camp. A few minutes later, a third Apache flew over. After more explosions, everything went quiet. We all squatted in a clump, low to the ground, waiting.

Out of the blue, Parker sat up, fully conscious. “Why are we outside? And why is it dark?”

I sagged, allowing myself a short rest. If Parker was awake, it meant the Apaches had cleaned out the Takers.

“Long story, sir,” I said. “But I think we might be right about Balkh being the Takers’ lair. It seems that this dark god we’re looking for tried to possess us and sent an army of Takers to hit camp. We must be getting close.”

The Apaches returned and set down at the perimeter of camp. Heavy rotors beat the night air, churning up dust, small rocks and ash as two giant Chinooks landed behind them.

Colonel Black conferred with the pilots, then gathered us together.

“Obviously camp isn’t safe any longer. One Chinook will take the dead and wounded back to Bagram. The other will evacuate everyone not deploying on the attack. Two of the Apaches will fly escort in case those…things come back.” He searched the crowd until he found me and Captain Parker. “Captain, nice to see you up and around.”

“Yes, sir,” Parker said, sounding a little embarrassed. I’d have to let him know it wasn’t his fault he’d missed the action. I also needed to explain how I warded off the mind grab so he’d know what to do, otherwise we’d be screwed next time.

“The last Apache will stay here, along with our wielder teams. A third Chinook will arrive shortly.” Colonel Black’s voice shook with anger. “Then we’re going to clean those bastards out, once and for all.”

By the way the knife flashed in my pocket, I’d have to say the spirit agreed with him as much as I did.

Chapter Thirty-Two

T
he Chinook stayed close to
the canyon walls. The shadows of two Apaches chased ours along the ground, dark against rocks lit by early morning sun. Squared off and narrow, our escorts looked like angry wasps ready to sting anything that crossed our path. It was too bad that we couldn’t let those Apaches launch their missiles into the tunnels to fry whatever was in there. I had a feeling our enemy was holed up deep in the caves, though, with the idea of making us come to it.

Next to the sleek attack helicopters flying at our side, the big, double-rotor Chinook seemed more like a lumbering passenger van with one flat tire than a staple of Army technology. The ride was loud and bumpy and nobody felt like talking. Most of us stared out the windows, watching the scenery change…except for Will. He was the only guy I knew who could sleep on a Chinook. While the rest of us were trying not to puke, he was dreaming about bikini-wearing college girls. I had half a mind to wake him up so he could suffer with the rest of us, but we were all worn down after last night; having one rested person on the team might be a good idea.

Soon Uncle Mike gave the sign to get ready. The plan was to have the Chinook hover over a ledge near the caves and we’d jump from the back end. I shook Will awake, shouting “time to go!”

I readied my gear. Parker and I weren’t carrying much in the pockets of our vests. All I had was my lucky flashlight and the St. Christopher medal; I refused a pistol. After last time, I decided I’d never carry one again, and Will had declined to carry one as well, giving me a terse nod when he told Lieutenant Johnson no. We were in agreement—it was the knife, or nothing.

Everyone else had a ready pack and an assortment of firearms. Patterson carried one of the flamethrowers and Murphy scored the grenade launcher. Both guys looked grim; if I were a demon, I’d be running the other way if I saw either of them.

Our helicopter drifted closer and closer to the rock face. The Apaches circled overhead, providing air cover as our pilots positioned the Chinook over the ledge. Uncle Mike gave the thumbs up, and the rear ramp opened. He checked outside, then jumped. One by one, other soldiers followed him, emptying the Chinook from back to front. Everyone moved quickly, in case the enemy was waiting for us outside. Will and I sat near the pilots, so we came up dead last.

Will disappeared over the side. My turn. The Chinook’s ramp was a good four feet off the ground; it vibrated under my feet as the wind from the rotors buffeted the helicopter. I slipped more than jumped, and the impact of my landing buckled my knees. My legs went out from under me, sending me rolling down a little hill until I came to a stop by crashing into a boulder. Uncle Mike helped me up, then we ran into the shadow of the rocks, following a winding path away from the edge.

The Chinook took off, and the Apaches followed. In a matter of seconds, the mountain was quiet. The hurricane the helicopters had stirred up was really just a soft wind, and the sky was a bright blue. Why did we always end up storming caves on a gorgeous day? Shaking my head, I lengthened my stride to keep pace with the rest of the team.

We marched around a sharp bend to the right and found what we were looking for. A cave entrance the size of a two-car garage door waited at the end of the trail. No monstrous guard dogs that I could see, but a tingle of unfamiliar magic nipped at the small of my back.

“This is it,” I said.

Parker nodded. His face had a strained look. “We’re in the right place. No doubt about it.”

Uncle Mike formed us up. In two columns, the wielders second in line, we moved slowly toward the entrance. Cool breezes wafted in from the gap in the mountainside. This cave would be big, and I bet it had more turns than the scorpion’s lair. As I crossed the threshold, the knife-spirit hissed in my head. Definitely the right place.

The entrance opened up into a large chamber, one that looked like it had been carved out of the rock. Sunlight from the entrance lit the room like dim lamplight, illuminating smooth, curved walls creating a perfectly round space.

Too perfect.

“Does this look man-made to anyone?” I asked.

Johnson nodded. “Sure does.”

“Caves were turned into dwellings and temples all over Balkh thousands of years ago,” Uncle Mike said quietly. “Maybe we’ve stumbled into some ruins.”

Ruins or not, something about the room set me on edge. A tunnel leading into the mountain yawned black in the back of the chamber and I really didn’t want to go in there all of a sudden.

“All right,” Uncle Mike said. “Put on your NVGs.”

Will looked his night-vision goggles over. “How are these gonna work? Don’t they need a little bit of ambient light?”

“They bring their own.” Johnson pointed at a tiny bulb embedded in the head strap. “That’s an infrared flashlight. Naked eye can’t see it, but the NVGs can. We don’t use them all the time, in case the other side has infrared sights, too, but in the caves it makes sense.”

My jaw dropped a little. Next to the underwater scope I’d used last year, these were even more wicked cool. I strapped the goggles over my helmet. They were heavy and weighed down my head, but when I looked down the dark tunnel, I could see the pale green outline of cave walls glowing against a darker green.

Okay, just a hallway. Right, keep telling myself that.

The tunnel was too narrow to walk in two columns, so Parker’s line went first. They went about ten paces before rounding a bend sharply to the left.

A bend in the tunnel…

“Major!” I said, as a stronger zip of supernatural bad news pinged in my skull. “We have to catch up to them!”

Uncle Mike didn’t answer, but he started forward and we fell in behind. When he reached the spot where Parker’s team had turned, he stopped abruptly. “Oh, not again.”

I came up next to him. The bend to the left was gone. Now the tunnel led to the right. I pushed on the wall—completely solid, like it had always been this way. “Is this what happened when I disappeared in the caves last time?”

Johnson peered over my shoulder at the new wall. “Yes. You were there, took a turn, then a wall suddenly appeared where you’d been.”

Will sighed behind me. “Guess they want to split us up, huh?”

“No time to worry about it, now. We have to keep moving,” Uncle Mike said. “Let’s go.”

We took the right turn. The air in the tunnel got progressively colder and the floor sloped downward. For all the summer heat outside, it felt raw as autumn in the cave. Uncle Mike pulled leather gloves out of his vest and put them on. Envious, I flexed my stiff fingers, wishing the knife would work without skin contact. The handle buzzed in my thigh pocket. I put my hand on it, and warmth rushed into my fingertips.

“Thanks,” I whispered.

The tunnel got wider, and the end was framed by columns. A larger cavern opened up behind it. Blobs hung from the ceiling and the air reeked of an old lady’s closet…moth balls and dust and mildew. The knife-spirit sent little crackles of energy across my skin.

This was a bad place.

We reached the columns. Uncle Mike slowed, then stopped, staring out across an enormous room. He let out a soft gasp.

“Major, what is it?” Johnson asked.

“I….don’t know.” Mike turned to me. “Matt, you getting anything from the knife?”

“Yeah, and it’s nothing good.”

“Should we turn around, find another way in?” he asked.

The knife-spirit growled in response. Right, no going back. “No. We were pushed here for a reason.”

I took the lead. The air in the cavern was so cold, my skin felt coated in frost. Something slick covered the smooth rock floor, giving everyone a case of the slips and slides. The lumps hanging from the ceiling were hard to make out with my NVGs, but something else got my attention first.

The room was a rectangle—again perfect, with sharp right angles in the corners—and carvings covered the walls. “Major, I need to use my flashlight. Can someone cover me?”

Uncle Mike gave me the “go ahead sign.” Murphy and Patterson stood behind me and Will stationed himself at my right side. Feeling less vulnerable, I took off my goggles and shined my flashlight on the nearest set of carvings. The scene was nearly lifelike—Takers ripping a person to bits. The next showed a large, winged…thing sitting on a throne, Takers at its feet. Glassy-eyed people bowed before them. The monster on the throne wasn’t as distinct as the other figures, looking somewhat blobby. Still, it seemed alive, watching me. With a shudder, I moved to the next carving.

Various other scenes were carved all around the room, none of them reassuring. Some of the scenes repeated. I saw the master-monster-thing conjuring a fire over and over again. A figure rose out of the flames, holding a burning spear with a curved blade. I reached out to touch it.

No!
the knife spirit said.
Touch nothing.

I jerked my hand back. “Why?”

This room is tainted with the Dark. It’s a birthplace.

“Birthplace?” I shivered. “For what?”

Look up.

The things hanging from the ceiling…I shined a flashlight on one. A yellowish, opaque cocoon swayed slightly when the beam hit it. Inside, something black squirmed and twisted. I caught a glimpse of long talons, folded wings.

Takers. Dozens of them, waiting to be born.

“Major!”

Uncle Mike trotted over. I showed him the carvings, then pointed my flashlight at the ceiling.

“Holy Elway’s Ghost,” Will breathed. “What are those things?”

A bit of slime dripped from the cocoon. So that’s what was on the floor—Taker juice. I fought against gagging. “Taker cocoons.”

Uncle Mike called the team together. “We need to get out of here. Everyone, head for the tunnel across the cavern. Patterson, we seem to have a bug infestation. You’re on exterminator duty.”

Patterson ignited the flame-thrower. “Yes, sir.”

We hustled to the tunnel on the opposite side of the cavern. It was smaller than the first, with a low ceiling and rough walls. A wet, tearing sound followed us. I shined my light back into the cave. One of the cocoons was shuddering; the membrane rippled as the Taker squirmed inside.

I waved my arms at Patterson and Uncle Mike. “One’s waking up. Hurry!”

Even as I said it, three more cocoons started to sway. Mike pushed us back into the tunnel as a brilliant orange lit up the cave. First came the smell of gasoline and the whoosh of flames, then came the screeches. Too horrified not to look, I ducked low to peer between Murphy and Johnson. The cocoons shook violently as they burned. One Taker got free, but Patterson flamed it before it flew ten feet. Black ash fluttered to the sticky cavern floor.

Soon the screeches died out. Patterson disengaged the flamethrower. Wiping a soot covered hand across his forehead, he said, “Sir, I believe our bug problem is toast.”

“Excellent,” Uncle Mike said. He didn’t sound all that convinced, though.

A high-pitched wail echoed up ahead, like rusted bike chains scraping cement. Yeah, I wasn’t all that convinced, either. Will gave me a wide-eyed stare before donning his NVGs. Uneasy, I put mine on too.

Uncle Mike led us forward. The tunnel ahead didn’t look scary, but I’d learned a long time ago that it didn’t matter how something looked. By the way the knife-spirit kept buzzing, I had a feeling evil incarnate lurked just out of sight.

Nothing jumped out at us for a few minutes and waiting for the hammer to fall made things worse. Then a long, lonely, savage howl bounced off the stone. Uncle Mike held up a closed fist, and we stopped short. To his right, the pale green wall shimmered, then a hole opened up. A dark mass flew out of the gap, landing with a wet thud. The wall snapped shut again and the tunnel fell silent.