He backed a step, noting the book was gone, too, likely taken by the others. Without it, there would be no way to reopen the door. He swallowed hard, his head pounding, fiercer than the heartbeat in his throat. He felt ill and knew it wasn’t just due to his panic. The toxin in the air was slowly poisoning him.
Now, with the outer bunker door blocked by snow, it would only grow more dangerous inside here. Even worse, the trio who had vanished below were sealed in even tighter and heading toward the source of the poison.
Duncan wrung his hands, something he hadn’t done since he was a boy. He almost lost his grip on the flashlight.
What can I do?
He took a step back, then another, knowing the answer. To help the others, he could do only one thing:Buy them time. Enough of a window so they could figure a way out.
Recognizing this, he twisted around and rushed away from the fissured wall. He hit the stairs and headed up. As he did, he felt the spirit of his grandfather looking down upon him, helping Duncan accept his duty from here.
To defend this castle with my life.
59
11:27 a.m.
With the door sealed behind them, only one path remained open. Sharyn continued down the tunnel. Laurent limped a step ahead, having struck his knee hard when he fell. But his injury was the least of their problems.
Sharyn’s stomach churned queasily. Her head pounded with every thud of her heart. Pain stabbed the back of her eyes, reaching all the way to the angle of her jaw. Still, she and the two men continued deeper down the poisonous passageway.
As they rounded a sharp curve, Laurent stumbled—but not because of his compromised leg. “We found it.”
Sharyn and Archie crowded behind him.
Laurent edged forward slowly, pointing his flashlight.
Ahead, the passageway dumped into a cavernous space. The shine of their lights reflected back a golden sheen, as if setting fire to whatever lay inside. No one spoke as they crossed to the tunnel’s end. They all held their breath as they stepped inside and gaped all around.
The cavern had been sculpted into a domed vault, held up by carved Doric pillars of dark dolomitic stone. The columns framed tiny chapels dug deeper. A few appeared to lead to other chambers farther back, likely forming a labyrinth of riches beyond measure.
In this chamber alone, gold shone everywhere. Yard-long trumpets hung on the walls, along with rows of gilded shields, which had turned into fiery mirrors. Overhead, dozens of massive lanterns and censers hung from the roof. On the floor, chests lay open, glittering with plates, cups, bowls, and crowns.
“The temple treasures,” Archie murmured in awe.
Sharyn nodded.
Still, the chamber’s most striking features were the massive seven-stemmed candelabras—ancient menorahs—sitting on pedestals carved out of the stone floor. While the modern Hanukkah menorah had nine branches, the oldest of them—still used as a symbol in synagogues and on the Israeli coat of arms—had only seven. Three of the towering relics rose on each side, standing as tall as Laurent’s shoulders with stems as thick around as the man’s wrist, all sculpted of pure gold.
Their group slowly worked deeper into the space.
“Look there,” Laurent whispered, shining his light forward.
At the rear of the chamber, a seventh menorah beckoned. It stood in an arched alcove, set apart by itself. It was unlike the others in many ways. Not only was it larger by a third, but its branches were also thicker, more crudely sculpted. From the roughened surfaces, it looked as if it had grown in place versus being crafted by an artisan’s hand. This illusion was amplified by its dark gray metal, nearly the same hue as the surrounding dolomitic rock.
But even that wasn’t the strangest aspect to it.
“What’s beneath it?” Archie asked.
They drew nearer, drawn forward by the mystery. Around the menorah’s stone pedestal, a silvery moat shimmered, brimming with a dense liquid, as if a mirror had been melted and filled in around it. Once close enough, the vast breadth of this strange reservoir grew clearer. It wasn’t just the foot-wide moat in front of the relic, but behind it, the alcove’s archway opened into another chamber, even larger than this one. Back there, a sea of the same metallic-looking liquid filled the space, reflecting the beams of their flashlights.
“What the bloody hell is it?” Archie asked.
Sharyn knew and stepped away. “The source of the poison.”
Archie turned to her. “What do you mean?”
“It’s a lake of mercury,” Sharyn said. “What used to be called quicksilver. While the metallic element remains a liquid at room temperature, it still gives off toxic vapors over time.”
