Instinct: A Chess Team Adventure - By Jeremy Robinson Page 0,105

. . . they were just the men for the job.

Knight folded the map into a neat square and pocketed it. He limped his way through the second half of the maze and hobbled up the staircase that led to a tunnel opposite the one he had entered through. As he stepped into the tunnel, darkness surrounded him.

“Damnit.” He’d left the bandanna saturated with glowing algae on the other side of the room . . . all the way back through the maze.

Screw it, he thought, then headed up into the darkness.

He stopped after only a few feet.

He’d heard something.

A squeak.

Then another. He held his breath and listened. The sound of tiny claws on stone filled the tunnel ahead.

A rodent.

Knight felt the thing hit his foot. It squeaked again, and then ran past. He saw it run down the staircase and enter the maze without hesitation. It was either out for a jog or something was chasing it. His fears were confirmed when a deep growl accompanied by heavy footfalls approached from the darkness beyond. Whatever was chasing the rat would find him first.

FORTY-NINE

SARA’S FOOTSTEPS ECHOED on the cobblestone street, bouncing off tall stone buildings and the mountain ceiling high above. Weston, being barefoot, walked in silence. His stride was confident and calm, the way a kid walks in his own house; every turn known, every contour familiar.

He really does belong here, Sara thought. She would have been happy to let Weston and his little clan live out their lives here, too, but she knew without a doubt that he could never be convinced of that.

Seeing the city up close, the architecture took on a new shape. Asian meets ancient Rome. Elegance amalgamated with power. Beautiful and chilling. The curved roofs sported long corner beams. The walls of the buildings were constructed from thick stones, perhaps once polished, but now rough. The larger buildings, with overhanging platforms, were supported by rows of columns that smacked of Rome’s early Doric order. They had already passed through four of the five galleries, each one separated from the next by a large, gated stone wall.

Light shifted and rolled through the chamber, climbing buildings and sliding across streets. Weston had explained that clouds were moving by the mountain, shifting the sun’s beams on the giant crystals. Sara’s mother had hung crystals in the windows of her childhood home and the effect had been marvelous, but they were a joke compared to this. The cool, crisp air filled the nose like New England in the fall.

The walk had been long, yet after days of unsure footing in the jungle, Sara found the hard, smooth stone beneath her feet a welcome change. If not for the circumstances of her visit to Mount Meru she would have loved to explore. As it was, she was totally tuning out Weston’s ongoing history lesson about the decline of the Neanderthal civilization. Apparently, the entire history of the species was recorded in another chamber, going back to a time before Homo sapiens existed. The temptation to become enraptured with the place was intense. The history, the mystery of it all. But Sara’s mind remained preoccupied with something even more glorious—escape.

So far, she hadn’t gotten beyond, “Take off my boots so he can’t hear me running.” The rest of her mental energy focused on learning the layout of the city. There could be no hesitation when she made her move, no delay in choosing a path. She felt confident she could find her way out through the gates, working through back alleys and avoiding open space, but once out of the city her plan fell flat. Climbing the stairs again wasn’t an option. She’d be exposed. Weston could easily catch her. And she’d be headed straight back into the den of her enemies. The only other option she’d come up with had her jumping in the subterranean river and letting it sweep her away . . . wherever it went.

A sudden tap on her shoulder jolted her from her thoughts.

“Lost in thought, are we?” Weston asked, pushing the handgun against her shoulder. He could tell she wasn’t listening to everything he said. Who could blame her? She had to be overwhelmed by the place, just as he was when he’d first stumbled upon it. And years of constant work had nearly returned Meru to its former glory—a city fit for gods. He pointed up. “We’re almost there.”

Sara looked up. She’d been so distracted by the buildings around her and plans of