The Diamond Dragon (Kip Keene Book 4) (16 page)

“Do you understand
why
I insisted upon this very location for my estate?” Cladius Maximus said, leading the way through the gilded halls. He dipped his broad shoulders through a doorway. “I don’t suppose so.”

“Because you’re a greedy coward,” Alessia said.

“That is the resistance’s line,” Cladius said. “Rather cliché.”

“All clichés start as truth.”

“Very well put,” Cladius said. He unlocked a towering cherry door, swinging the massive hunk of wood open to reveal a set of spiral stairs. He began descending the steps. “Because the prophecy is a lie. And this will be the only way out once tonight is through.”

Alessia felt her stomach churn. “You’re the liar.”

“Your father said the same thing. I do hope you’ll be more cooperative than he was.”

Alessia didn’t dare drag her feet, for fear of what Cladius would do if she rebelled. 

A great blast rocked the massive estate, flinging her against the side of the room. Her vision went fuzzy. A euphoric cheer—or maybe something more guttural and primal—surged through the air outside. Flames lapped at the structure. She felt arms beneath her shoulders, saw the face of a rebel in between lapses in consciousness.

Heard it.

Or maybe it was just a dream.

Cladius Maximus, screaming from down below, caught on the stairs, “No, you fools, you don’t understand what I’m trying to do,” before being overrun by a mob that tore him limb from limb.

Was it a dream?

The smoke, so much smoke in her nostrils and in her eyes, turning her blonde hair an ashy shade of dirty yellow, as she was hurried out of the estate, right before the entire structure went up in flames.

A noise like a cadre of crickets—or no, like a hawk’s wings beating through the air, powerful, constant, a big black bird with a spinning wheel on the top. Being placed inside, strapped to the floor, then watching as the valley disappeared.

“Flight,” Alessia said.

“Yes,” Prashant said—it was Prashant, her beloved, that was who it was—reaching down to pat her cheek. But his smile, it wasn’t kind, nor was it unkind. What was it? Her head hurt. Better to sleep.

“Ground is small.”

“It is,” Prashant said. “And now you will fulfill your destiny.”

Alessia closed her eyes as the metal bird rose further into the thin air. She vaguely remembered being lifted again, footsteps landing on what sounded like ice. Pickaxes clinking against the ground, the smell of fire torching the snow.

“We have arrived,” she heard her beloved say, in a reverential tone, “it is time for the girl to save our world.”

Your world is my world
, she thought.

But then, it was all a dream.

Otherwise, nothing made sense.

Linus let out a small squeak and Carmen socked him in the face. Lightly, but it still stung in the freezing cold. He glared at her through his reflective ski goggles. But she was right. No sound was far better than being discovered.

Things were tight enough in this Diamond Dragon temple as it was. Figures that the one portal they found would drop them directly into the middle of the fray. They’d barely gotten out of the way before the two black-armored guards had rushed past.

“That a chopper?” Linus whispered.

Carmen nodded. She stripped the ski goggles from her face and directed her gaze outwards. Linus followed the look, but didn’t understand the directive.

“What’s the plan?”

“Wait.” Footsteps and the sound of someone chipping away at the roof. “They’re coming in from the top.”

“I thought you wanted me to do something.”

“I do. I want you to wait.”

They’d heard the whole thing, jammed into this tiny crevice on the temple’s second floor. Strike darting across the walkway. Keene falling behind when the pair came under siege.

Him falling. Linus gulped, unwilling to admit that Keene was probably dead. If Linus could, he would’ve yelled
no
or given himself a pep talk. But that was impossible when right around the corner—no more than twenty feet away in the adjacent ceremonial room—the Centurions were waiting.

And there was no telling what they were going to do—with either the assailants coming in from above, or their prisoner. The man moaned and begged to be set free, in between vague threats.

“It’s Agent Redbeard,” Carmen said in a hushed whisper. “They have him.”

“Should we help?”

Carmen’s eyes flitted between the gap and Linus’ face, clearly torn on the decision. Her training probably suggested that she shouldn’t leave her comrades behind. But her supervisor had thrown any notions of loyalty out the window when he’d ordered Tillus—and the UCD agents within—to be torched.

She ground her teeth and pushed herself flatter into the hidden nook.

There was her answer.

The crew from above broke through. Linus heard arrows whistle through the still air, the sound of armor clinking as the Centurions rolled out of the way. Orders shouted in a foreign tongue. The copter’s blades chopping at the thin atmosphere and trailing away.

A metal canister rattled as it hit the floor of the ceremonial chamber.

“Tear gas,” Carmen said, and Linus felt a gloved hand squeeze his nose and mouth shut before he could even react. A sharp, foul-smelling smoke filled the air—the little that got into Linus’ respiratory system burned like hell. He stifled a cough and tried to retch, but Carmen held firm. Amidst the hissing gas escaping the canisters, Linus heard men rappel in.

The first few sword thrusts were bone-chilling. The final ones less so, as the pained moans and hopeless cries had subsided into silence. The Centurions hadn’t been ready for this type of attack, despite their years of preparations. Apparently the helicopter, too, had caught them off guard.

Burning the bridges hadn’t worked out.

A gagging cough erupted from the silent chamber. At first Linus thought he was the culprit, but then he realized there was one other person without a mask in this wretched temple.

Leif Redbeard
.

There was a muted plea for mercy, then a single arrow shot. Footsteps. The sound of a door or a platform descending, locking into place. The voices speaking instructions that Linus couldn’t understand faded.

Linus felt the hand slip away from his face. He took a single hesitant breath and threw up. Carmen stepped out of the way and patted him on the back.

A sudden grinding sound made him jerk backwards against Carmen, smashing her against the rock. She jabbed him in the ribs, but Linus didn’t move.

“What is that?”

“Come on, get off,” Carmen said.

Somewhere, Linus could hear ancient gears creaking and clacking together, moving some unseen heavy object. The scraping noise reverberated all throughout the temple. Ice crashed off the mountain peak outside. Recalling the cave collapse in China, Linus prayed that lightning wouldn’t strike twice.

But despite being fashioned from ice, the Diamond Dragon proved to be a formidable structure. Finally, the last gear clicked into place, and the temple gave a large shudder. Then all was still, except for Linus’ hurried breaths.

Carmen shoved him out into the second floor room. It was really nothing more than a narrow hallway from which scouts could watch for invaders. Linus glanced back at their hiding place. Damn good. In the dark of night, and the way the temple was designed, it looked like the wall was entirely seamless.

Impossible to tell anyone was inside the crevice, if you weren’t looking.

Linus ventured a look outdoors. The charred rope bridge dangled off the cliff’s edge. No hope of heading down the mountain that way.

“I think they killed Agent Redbeard,” Carmen said.

“Who’s they?”

“Let’s go find out,” she said.

“You were close?” Linus said, dragging his cold feet along the slick floor.

“He wasn’t a good man,” Carmen said as she walked towards the main chamber. “Just my boss, driven by obsession, putting everyone else in harm’s way for his own ends.” She made a small gesture to the surrounding temple, and Linus understood. The man had pushed his coworkers hard and taken many risks in order to reach this fabled land, all to see his family again.

Perhaps noble, but the costs had been high. Too high.

The fact that his team had to be eradicated—and an entire town with them—was proof enough that Leif’s leadership qualities were somewhat lacking.

“Strike’s still out there, I think.” Linus hoped. He hadn’t heard anything from her since she had screamed to unsuccessfully warn Keene.

“They didn’t go outside,” Carmen said in a low voice. She pointed at the chunk missing from the ceiling. “They came to enter the dragon’s belly.”

“I don’t like dragons all that much,” Linus said.

“You know there’s only one way we can go, right?”

“Don’t tell me,” Linus said.

“If they burned the bridge, then the way out is within,” Carmen said. “So we follow them.”

“I was afraid you’d say that.”

Carmen brought a finger to her lips and rushed into the main ceremonial chamber. She was headed towards Leif’s final resting place. Linus had no interest in following her, but he also had no interest in being left alone in Shambhala.

Linus whispered out the window. “Strike.” No answer. “Strike. Strike!” He almost yelled it, but didn’t need to.

“Linus, you dumb bastard, you’re going to get us all killed,” he heard, right below his position. He ran into the ceremonial room, avoiding any contact with Leif’s body—and the two black armored Centurions—and made his way down to the first level. He paused, giving a quick glance towards the people frozen behind the temple’s walls, ten in all. The strangeness didn’t completely register. Linus passed his fingers over the smooth ice, but nothing happened.

The figures looked alive, but there was nothing he could do to help them. Linus could feel a strange current running through the air when he pressed his fingers to the wall. The last figure in the row was a young woman, maybe twenty-seven or twenty-eight, with a creamy beige complexion and brilliant blonde hair. Her eyes stared out at Linus like they sensed his every move.

The temple was somehow channeling their energy. Linus gulped. For what?

He hurried out of the temple’s entrance. Carmen already stood outside, struggling with a large chunk of ice shaped in a jagged flame.

“Help me,” she said. “Your friend is trapped behind it.”

Linus peeked over the wreckage of the tall sculpture, where he could just make out Strike’s blonde hair fluttering in the breeze. He took one side of the heavy block of ice and pulled, the tongue crunching as it rolled along the ground.

Linus fell backwards and almost lost his footing.

“Might want to watch your step, kid,” Strike said, sliding between the small crack Carmen and Linus had opened up. She had been pressed up against the outside wall of the temple, beneath the overhang, when the sudden quaking had jarred loose the structure’s namesake dragon. It hadn’t crushed her, but its unfortunate positioning meant that she had been trapped.

Linus looked over his shoulder, where the massive canyon sat only feet away. He scurried forward. No way anyone could survive that. His heart sank, thinking of Keene. Then he turned to the situation developing in front of him, where Carmen had a pistol trained at Strike’s head.

Strike looked poised to throw the gleaming combat knife straight at Carmen’s jugular.

“Whoa, whoa,” Linus said, holding up his hands. “What gives?”

“She tried to steal from us,” Strike said. “In case you forgot.”

“Look, it’s a long story,” Linus said. “But she’s here to help.”

“I don’t trust her.”

“She helped save your ass just now,” Linus said. “Isn’t that good enough?” He took a step forward. Carmen flicked the safety off. “Come on, let’s be friends.”

“She lowers her weapon, I lower mine,” Strike said, her blonde hair fluttering in the slight breeze. “Otherwise we both go down swinging.”

“She works for the government. Secret organization. They don’t want the world to end, either, okay? Well, at least she doesn’t. The rest of them—you know what, long story, we can all all catch up later. We’re here to stop whatever’s going on.” Linus said.

“Sure you’re not just blinded by love?”

“If I trust her, then you should, too,” Linus said. He shivered in the chilly air. “Goddamnit, there’s no time for this.”

Strike shrugged, then sheathed her knife. Carmen followed with the pistol. The two women gave each other wary looks, like they’d shelve the matter until the more pressing issues were addressed.

“So anyone know what’s going on here?” He looked between Strike and Carmen, but neither had any more answers than him.

“The world hasn’t ended,” Carmen said. “But I fear that it might still happen.”

“She’s got a sunny disposition,” Strike said. “Good catch, Linus.” But she said the words without any energy. The weight of Keene’s disappearance also burdened her mind.

“Sooner we get in there, the sooner we can go home,” Linus said.

Before he left the lonesome peak, he gave one last look over his shoulder.

If any man could survive that drop, it was Keene.

The three entered the chamber, and Strike let loose a hushed but powerful, “Jesus Christ.”

“What?” Linus said. He rushed over to the wall of figures behind the clear, impenetrable material. “Oh, that. Yeah, freaky.”

“Protect the girl and save the world,” Strike said. She pressed her palm against the wall slowly. “It looks like someone beat us to it.”

“What are you saying,” Carmen said, stepping forward. “The prophecy is coming true?”

“Prashant must’ve plugged her into the temple,” Strike said. “Alessia was the final piece of the puzzle. The last genetic mutation in the line.”

“What’s she do?” Linus said.

“I think she’s a kind of conduit,” Strike said. “From the way things look.” The air thrummed with a low, subtle energy. “And it sounds like this place is starting to activate.”

“So you’re helping Prashant?” Linus said.

“I’m not sure,” Strike said. “Depends on what all of this is about.” Her head swiveled around the room. “I don’t really like the looks of it, though.”

“His men killed Agent Redbeard without quarter,” Carmen said.

“We don’t trust anyone besides each other,” Strike said. “All right?”

Everyone nodded.

“So what happens next?” Linus said.

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Strike pointed towards the back of the chamber, where an open door led to a narrow passageway. “Only one way to find out.”

She took one step forward.

A huge explosion erupted from the ceiling, sending giant blocks of ice hurtling towards the ground.

“Run!” Carmen said, yanking Linus’ arm. They rushed towards the passage, not knowing if it was the right way, a dead end, or their grave. A massive rock soared past Linus’ head, almost clipping him. He ducked at the last moment, breaking into an awkward roll.

He and Carmen skidded into the door. A second later, a massive rock slammed down, blocking the path.

“Strike?” Linus tried to wipe the smoke and dust from his eyes. “Strike!”

“No need to yell,” a familiar voice said. “What took you so long?”

Linus breathed easier for a moment, but his lungs seized when he saw their predicament. The entrance to this small passageway—no more than three yards wide, and completely unlit—was blocked completely. The temple continued to shake and rumble, explosive charges going off above at regular intervals.

From the narrow tendrils of moonlight that slipped through the cracks into the passage, Linus saw that the only way forward, near where Strike stood, tapping her foot impatiently, was down a steep set of stairs.