Instinct: A Chess Team Adventure - By Jeremy Robinson Page 0,93

the floor like some kind of Egyptian obelisk. The crystal held his gaze. Light radiated from inside the polished monolithic object and filled the space. Then the light shifted, shimmering like the aurora borealis. As the glow moved about the space, he noticed twin streams of dusty radiance that appeared brighter than the glow coming from the crystal. Knight followed the light’s path back to the source—two holes in the far wall. But the holes were partially covered by circular hatches.

Rising from the base of each wooden shade was a thin rope that attached to the ceiling through a series of stone loops. The lines ended above the entrance and hung down, weighted by two stones tied to the ends. The heavy stones kept the hatches slightly open and allowed the sliver of light into the chamber . . . a sliver of light that became amplified by the crystal at the center of the hewn-out space.

Knight squinted at the hanging ropes, then glanced back at the crystal. The whole contraption appeared to be a primitive light switch. “Can’t be.”

But it was. Knight pulled the cords down and, once in motion, the weight of the stones pulled them to the floor. The hatches sprang open, allowing the daylight beyond to pour in, where it struck the crystal, refracted, split, and dispersed around the room as shimmering colors.

Details leaped out. The labyrinth was much more than a simple maze. The one-foot-thick stone walls were covered, front and back, by Somi’s proto-Chinese. Each symbol took up a four-inch-square space in a grid that was perfectly measured and even. It looked like an ancient Vietnam War Memorial, wrapped around and throughout the room instead of a straight line. Knight descended the staircase and entered the maze.

He imagined that with time he might even be able to figure out what some of the symbols meant. If this really was the precursor language to Chinese, then the four percent Chinese that is pictorial might actually be found on these walls. And if that was true, he might be able to figure out more symbol meanings based on their surrounding context. But that would take years. With no understanding of the language, Knight made his way toward the center of the maze. He was tempted to climb on top of the maze and cheat his way through, but his memory of the view from above served him well. He reached the center, and the massive crystal, in just a few minutes.

As his gaze was drawn by the crystal he failed to notice the debris surrounding it, and tripped. He’d normally have turned the fall into a graceful leap followed by a roll and bounce back to his feet, but his bound ankle caused him to fall like a drunk squirrel. He landed facedown but softened the impact with his hands. Exhaustion claimed him as he lay there, annoyed by his clumsiness. He kept his eyes closed, listening to his breathing. It rattled.

No, not his breathing. Something else.

Knight opened his eyes. The top corner page of a red-ringed notepad fluttered with each of his breaths. He launched up into a sitting position. The notebook sat open with a pen dropped casually upon it. A slim coat of dust covered both. They’d been discarded long ago, but they belonged to modern man. Someone had been here before him. Someone knew about this place. The question on Knight’s mind was: Did that person survive?

The area surrounding the notepad was covered in rubbings made from the maze walls. Smudges of charcoal filled large sheets of drawing paper. They littered the floor. Knight saw the now-empty sketchpad resting against a nearby wall. Whoever had been here spent a substantial time studying the language, but did they finish?

Knight picked up the notebook, flipped to the first page, and was surprised to see the college-ruled lines filled with English. The writing was chicken scratches, really, but readable. He started to read the first entry.

Dr. Anthony Weston

06/17/1995

The flight to Laos—awful. The food—abysmal. The adventure—high! Despite my poor accommodations I am nonetheless excited for my impending trip into the Annamite range. The wonders that are just waiting to be discovered in that deep, dark, and foreboding land will change the way the scientific community (and my ex-wife) view cryptozoology. To think that because we inhabit the land means we have seen everything on it is absurd! I may be fifty pounds lighter on my return trip back to Oregon, but I will make up for