The Lost Tomb

by N. J. Croft

  “They sent me her fucking finger,” he continued, “and promised to return her in pieces unless I give them the location of the tomb. I’m nearly out of time, and when I saw you come in just now—I thought—it’s over. I can give them what they want. Harper is safe. You took the image that night. You had the fucking image.”

  She gave a helpless shrug, her mind in turmoil. What to do? What to say? She’d spent so long thinking this through, going over her options—which were almost non-existent—that she couldn’t make her mind process this new information. “I’m sorry.”

  She stared straight ahead, saw the movement of his throat as he swallowed.

  “Why?” he asked. “Why destroy it?”

  “I had no choice. This is what I’ve been brought up to believe. Burned into me from the moment I was born. It’s our duty to keep the secrets of the tomb. So I destroyed the image to protect you—but also because I had no choice.”

  “There’s always a choice,” he growled.

  “If they knew the image really existed, then they would kill you and likely me at the same time. It would be seen as a betrayal of everything we hold sacred. And I have a daughter as well. She’s six years old, and I would do anything for her. If they even suspect me of lies, I’ll never see her again.” She forced her brain to go over the facts. “You didn’t tell them you found the image?” Of course he hadn’t; otherwise he’d be dead.

  “No. Eve said that it was best. That they would kill us. She’d already told them the image never arrived. She never saw it.”

  Shock held her rigid. “Eve?”

  “She’s alive.” He snorted. The sound held no amusement. “You mean they didn’t tell you?”

  No, they hadn’t told her. But then what was new? Secrecy was the way they existed. The way they survived. Don’t tell one person what the next is doing. And she hated it. Blind obedience had never been her strong point.

  A wave of familiar bitterness washed over her. They were expected to do as they were told, kill if necessary, and all on faith. She was no longer sure she even believed the tomb worth protecting. What was it other than a pile of old bones?

  She realized Noah was waiting for an answer. She shook her head. “No. They never told me.”

  “They faked her death.”

  “Why?” If they’d believed Eve was getting close, then why not just kill her? They had tried before.

  “Someone called in a favor.”

  Who? She didn’t know. Her mind was struggling to make sense of everything, to see a way forward through all this. How Noah must be hurting. She could see it in every line of his body. He’d always seemed so sure. Now he looked lost.

  She imagined if it was her baby, held by strangers, mutilated, in pain, and her whole mind shied away. She needed to think this through.

  Noah was right. She always had choices. Sometimes they might seem like between bad and worse, but there was always a choice. “How long do you have?” she asked.

  “Three days.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said again.

  “Yeah, I’m sure you are.” He shook his head. “Tell me, would you have done anything different if you’d known about Harper?”

  She thought about lying, but in the end, she decided on the truth. “I don’t know.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Eve trudged slowly across the camp, Tarkhan hobbling on his crutches in front of her, talking quietly with Zach. He’d obviously done his best; they’d listened to him.

  And then said no.

  There had been a whole lot of discussion in Mongolian. She’d picked up some of it. Tarkhan had tried to persuade them to help, but apparently some summit in Russia was beyond their remit. Bring them proof that the Descendants of Genghis Khan were involved and they might help. Until they saw that proof—nothing.

  They also claimed to have no information as to who the fake Star really was. Which was not good as it looked like she was their only hope of getting Harper back.

  Find the fake Star and they would find the image and the location of the tomb.

  And as far as she was concerned, the Descendants could have it. If she’d learned anything in the past few weeks, it was that people were what mattered. Not some ancient burial site.

  The guard in front of the yurt stepped aside as they approached. She followed Tarkhan and Zach inside then stopped abruptly. Noah was not alone. He stood at the opposite end of the tent, a woman close beside him. They clearly knew each other; there was a tension between them, and hope lit up in Eve’s heart.

  Then she glanced at Noah and went still. Something was very wrong. Stress radiated from his body, and his expression was fixed, his eyes grim.

  The woman had turned as they entered. She was tall, much taller than Eve, and very thin. Dressed as were all of the Darkhats, men and women, in dark pants, boots, and a gray shirt, her clothes were dusty and worn as though she had traveled a long way. While she wasn’t beautiful, there was something about her, a vitality that shone from her face. She looked as grim as Noah, and…sad. Eve’s gaze went to her throat and the tattoo of a star. This was the woman Noah had been working with. The one who had stolen the image. So why was Noah looking so bleak? He stood with his hands shoved in his pockets, shoulders hunched.

  Stepping forward, the woman held out her hands to Tarkhan, and a smile curved her lips. She spoke in Mongolian.

  Tarkhan took her hands and drew her close for a moment then stepped back. Still holding her hands, he stared into her face and spoke.

  She nodded then stepped back and pulled free. She headed for the door, her steps faltering, and she paused in front of Eve. “I’m sorry.”

  Eve watched her go. Something was definitely wrong. She wanted to grab the other woman and drag her back. She was their only hope. Why was Noah letting her walk away? He seemed held in place, locked in his thoughts. She turned to Tarkhan. Clearly, he knew the woman well, was fond of her.

  “Who is she?” Eve asked.

  “Her name is Sarangarel. She’s the daughter of Ulagan—leader of the Darkhats. I’ve known her since she was born, though she grew up in London. She’ll be the next leader. If the group survives.”

  Ulagan was the man Tarkhan had met in the Siberian labor camp. He’d been the clear leader of the group they had just met with. And no doubt the man responsible for deciding they would get no help. Bastard.

  “You believe us then?” Zach asked. He sounded bitter and almost as defeated as Noah appeared. He’d put too much hope into this.

  “I believe you. But I’m not one of them.” Tarkhan sighed, looking every one of his eighty-plus years, his skin pale, face etched with pain. “I’ll keep trying. You should go before they change their minds.” He moved to her, and she stood still while he kissed her cheek. “Keep safe. I enjoyed working with you.”

  The deal was they would leave the country as soon as they could and not return. Clearly Tarkhan believed they would do that, but then he didn’t know about Harper.

  She waited until he had left then crossed to where Noah stood. He hadn’t said a word since they’d entered. She reached out, rested a hand on his arm below the bandage; his skin was cool. “What happened? Won’t she give you the image. Did you explain?”

  Noah finally looked into her eyes. She didn’t want to analyze what she was seeing reflected in his gaze—hopelessness, despair. “She destroyed it. We have no way of finding the tomb.”

  Somehow she’d been expecting him to say that she wouldn’t hand the image over. And she’d already decided she’d come back and torture the other woman herself if that’s what was needed. Now she forced her mind to process his words, and a scream rose up inside her. Her whole body was shaking, and her vision was going dark at the edges. Noah grabbed her arms and shook her, his fingers tight around her upper arms. He was speaking, but she couldn’t hear the words beneath the roar in her ears.
He shook her again. One hand released her, and a moment later, she felt the sharp sting of a slap on the cheek. The blow broke through the panic, and the fog in her brain cleared a little. She heard a sobbing and realized it was coming from her, then she was drawn tight against his chest, and she gave in to the tears that had been building since he’d told her about Harper. She cried horrible jagged tears against him, and he held her tight until her nose clogged and she couldn’t breathe and she had to lift her head or starve of oxygen.

  At least her mind had cleared. She closed her eyes for a minute, sniffed until she could breathe again. She opened her eyes. Noah’s grip loosened, but he still kept a hold on her as though he was scared she would lose it again.

  And maybe he was right.

  She peered inside herself—the panic had receded. She could think again. Though perhaps that wasn’t such a good thing. She looked up at Noah, seeing the worry and fear in his eyes.

  He’d never been good with tears. And in the early years, she’d cried a lot. He’d initially tried a tentative pat on the shoulders. When that had failed to have an effect, he’d tried distracting her with sex, then later he’d just backed off and let her cry through it. Whatever it was.

  Maybe he’d grown up some in the years they’d been apart. Or maybe the last few weeks had also taught him a lesson about what mattered in life.

  She breathed deeply. She wouldn’t give in. Shaking free of Noah’s hold, she stepped back and stared into his eyes. “This is not over,” she said, each word tightly enunciated. “We will get Harper back.” Or they would die trying.

  She turned away, pulled a handkerchief from her pocket, wiped her eyes, and blew her nose. She sniffed then glanced at Zach, who was standing to the side. He also looked worried, and she forced a smile. “I’m good,” she said. “Crying all done with.”

  After searching her face, he nodded. “Good. But don’t do that again. My nerves can’t take it.”

  “I won’t.” She was in no way sure that was true, but he was safe for the moment.

  Zach had picked up Noah’s rucksack on the way over here, and he handed it to Noah. “Get dressed. We’re leaving. Before they change their minds.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Noah watched her warily as he hunkered down and dug into his rucksack for a T-shirt. He’d been scared. She’d seemed beyond reason, and he’d never been comfortable with crying.

  His mother cried a lot. Growing up, he’d learned to distance himself from it. At first he’d tried to comfort her. Most of the time, she hadn’t wanted his comfort. Hadn’t wanted him at all. He’d been a poor substitute for Ben, which he’d soon realized and backed off.

  The other times had been even worse. The times when his mother had been wracked with guilt and had tried to smother him with love, while crying jagged tears and ranting that she hadn’t meant it.

  His shoulder spasmed as he pulled the shirt over his head, and he winced. He suspected he had a couple of cracked ribs.

  “You okay?” Zach asked.

  “Yes.”

  Eve snorted. “Of course he’s not okay. Look at him.”

  Zach raised an eyebrow then crossed to where the first aid kit sat on the floor. He rummaged inside it and came up with a bottle of pills. He tipped three onto his palm and held them out to Noah. He shook his head—he needed a clear mind.

  Eve pursed her lips and studied him, hands on her hips. “If you want to get out of here, you’re going to have to ride a horse, and we don’t want to be picking you up off the ground every five minutes. Take the bloody painkillers, Noah.”

  Zach chuckled at Noah’s expression.

  He’d never seen Eve like this, but at least she wasn’t crying. She seemed like a different woman. Maybe the strong woman she should always have been.

  He was being an asshole, maybe even thinking he deserved the pain, because if he didn’t find a way to save her then Harper would die because of him. And maybe the pain was better than the fear that he would fail his daughter. But he took the pills—because Eve was right—and dry swallowed them.

  Eve gave a small nod and turned away as he hefted his rucksack onto his good shoulder and followed them out, staring straight ahead as they walked through the camp. He was aware of people following their progress but ignored them. Just concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. By the time they reached the corral where the horses were kept, the painkillers had started to kick in. He didn’t know what they were, except they were strong. He was almost light-headed.

  Four horses were saddled and ready outside the corral. They nickered and stamped as their small group approached. An older man on crutches stood beside them—Tarkhan at a guess—together with a big man, almost as wide as he was tall, with dark brown eyes, a round face, and a goatee beard. He grinned at them.

  “This is Jochi, your guide,” Tarkhan said. “He’ll lead you out of the area. We’ve arranged for a vehicle to be waiting. Unfortunately, it’s late, so you won’t make it tonight. You’ll have to camp out.”

  Someone handed him the reins, and he stood for a moment, staring at the stirrup, unsure whether he could actually get on.

  “Do you need some help?” It was Tarkhan, his voice gentle.

  Noah ignored the offer, gritted his teeth, and lifted his foot into the stirrup. It was another asshole move, and he paid for it when pain flashed through him. He ignored that, too, and heaved himself into the saddle. He landed with a thud, and the horse pranced beneath him in protest. Grabbing hold of the pommel, he held on tight, his fingers white until the horse settled. He looked around. They were all watching him with various levels of concern. “I’m fine,” he snapped.

  The guide led the way. Eve followed, clearly comfortable on the horse. Zach nodded to him to go next—he probably wanted to be able to keep an eye on Noah in case he fell off. He nudged the animal, and it moved forward, and he held his breath until his body relaxed into the movement and the pain subsided to a bearable level.

  As they rode up the hill out of the camp, he felt a prickle run down his spine, and he turned in the saddle and looked back. His gaze was drawn to the woman standing at the edge of the camp, her hand shading her eyes as she looked into the sun.

  Star. Sara. He couldn’t see her expression.

  It wasn’t her fault. She hadn’t betrayed him. She had never owed him any loyalty, after all. In a way, she had betrayed her own people and beliefs in allowing him to live.

  None of this was Sara’s fault. It was all his. And down to him to solve it. All the same, it felt like she had betrayed him, and as she raised a hand in farewell, he couldn’t bring himself to respond. Instead, he turned back in the saddle and stared straight ahead.

  He was on autopilot as he rode, his gaze fixed on Eve ahead of him where she sat straight in the saddle. Occasionally, she would look back over her shoulder, her lower lip caught between her teeth. He kept his face expressionless.

  There were no tracks to follow, yet the guide led them unwaveringly, through gorges with steep narrow sides, over ridges, splashing through shallow streams. The light was dimming as Zach rode up beside him, studying him. “How are you feeling? Do you need more painkillers?”

  He shook his head. The painkillers were wearing off, leaving his mind clearer than since before the ATV crash. And the pain was bearable. “I’m fine,” he said. “Functional, anyway.”

  “Good. Just another hour and we’ll stop for the night.”

  By the time they came to a stop in a small clearing, he felt stronger. He sat for a moment taking stock. He could feel the tight pull of the new stitches, but he could move his shoulder without pain. If he pressed a finger to his forehead, there was a bruise, but the headache was gone.

  He swung down from the saddle as Eve approached him. Her gaze ran over him, and she pursed her lips but then nodded. “You look better.”

  “Yeah.”

 
; “Why don’t you rest while we set up camp?”

  He sat on the ground with his back against a tree and watched as they unsaddled the horses and hobbled them on the edge of the clearing. Night had almost fallen, and the stars were coming out, an infinity of pinpricks in the clear sky.

  He closed his eyes, trying to empty his mind of the fear that had been his constant companion since he’d learned Harper was gone.

  Always before when things got tough, he’d found himself focusing, his senses sharpening, rising to the challenge, relishing the test. He had to rediscover that strength within himself, to find a way to ignore the emotional connection like he always had, but he suspected that would be impossible. He was no longer the same person. Losing first Eve and then Harper had shown him how much he cared.

  So he needed to accept that but compartmentalize so he could focus. Maybe he would fail and Harper would die, but it wouldn’t be because he had given up. The answer was out there.

  Though it was the middle of summer, they were still in the mountains, and now that the sun had gone down, there was a slight chill in the air. Off to the left, he could hear the stamping of the horses. They were restless. Jochi had lit a fire in a circle of rocks in the center of the clearing—he was guessing this was a regular campsite. The others were seated around it, and he could hear the low murmur of voices.

  He pushed himself to his feet and crossed the space between them to stare down into the embers, feeling the warmth of the fire against his skin. On the other side of the fire, a bulk of blankets—presumably the guide—lay fast asleep.

  Eve and Zach sat side by side, their heads close together as they talked. They both glanced up as he arrived, and Zach raised a half-empty bottle. “Here—a present from Tarkhan.”

  He took the whiskey and raised it to his lips, relishing the burn as he swallowed.

  “There’s food if you want it,” Eve said, getting to her feet.

  His stomach rumbled at the idea. He nodded, and she handed him a pan and a fork. “Mutton stew. They eat it a lot here.”