Tomb of the First Priest: A Lost Origins Novel

by A D Davies

  He resisted her pull. “I can’t.”

  “What?” She furrowed her glistening brow in disbelief. “I stuck around for you. I came to find you. That’s what you wanted isn’t it? You activated the tracker.”

  “I thought you’d send the cavalry, not come yourself.” Jules struggled to keep his voice even. The dumbness of coming alone was unspeakable, but voicing that would do no good here. “And there’s something else. Something important.”

  “What? What’s more important than your life? This place could cave in at any moment.”

  “And yet here you are.”

  “Yeah. Trying to make you see sense. To preserve what I can.”

  Jules’s expression must have conveyed that he didn’t understand.

  “The charges that went off,” Bridget said. “They’re collapsing the land around this... thing. It’s the same as a ship going under, dragging debris with it. Jules, we need to move.”

  “I can’t—”

  “Sorry, dear, that’s my fault.” Valerio strolled into view, approaching them, Horse slumped behind him on the floor, seemingly having been helped along by his boss. Topless, vain, Valerio’s peacock strut was even more pronounced. “Look, I have abs now. Aren’t they great?”

  Bridget raised the machine gun, faster this time, sweat dripping from her. “Ignore him, Jules. Whatever he says, you gotta come with me.”

  “Oh no, no, no.” Valerio came closer, almost within touching distance, forcing Bridget to step back. “He doesn’t have to do anything. He has his trinket back. He knows his momma’s deep, dark secret. That she possessed knowledge no one—especially someone like me—should have. He’s free from his drive to find it. Free to do as he pleases.”

  “He’s coming with me.”

  A new channel of fire lit up nearby. The pooling at the destroyed entrance was pushing the fluid back. Eventually it would congeal at that corner, but for now, the resistance diverted it elsewhere. Depending how large the reservoir was that fed the fuel lines, it was only a matter of time before there was no way out.

  “Let him choose,” Valerio said.

  Jules could have fought him. Despite his physical improvements, it didn’t seem likely he’d be able to compete with Jules one-on-one. So what the hell was he doing here?

  “You wanted to kill me,” Jules said.

  “What can I say?” Valerio opened his arms. “I’m contrary. If changing one’s mind is a crime, shoot me.”

  “Okay.” Bridget adjusted her grip, the stock at her shoulder.

  “In cold blood?” Valerio shook his head. “Unarmed? I don’t think so, my perfect little rose.”

  “I ain’t your anything, asshole.”

  Valerio applauded her. “Jules, I made a mistake in hurting you. I’m sorry. But I need a partner. Someone to share this with. Horse is... incapacitated, and since you’re the one who beat him...”

  “You want a new bodyguard?” Jules said.

  Horse strained to shift himself on his butt, dragging himself to his feet, the stone tablet from the pool in one hand, where he teetered on his good foot. “Boss... I’ll be fine.”

  “He needs you, Jules,” Bridget insisted. “He needs you to open whatever he’s trying to get hold of.”

  “She doesn’t know anything.” Valerio held out his hands again.

  Jules eyed him carefully, about to launch a combo of punches to disable him, when Valerio simply grasped hold of both the Aradia bangle and the Ruby Rock.

  Both bangles glowed under his touch.

  Valerio beamed maniacally. “You see, Jules? That pool altered me on a genetic level. I don’t need you at all. Because I’m just like you now. I’m special too.”

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  The whole chamber shook as if a bomb had dropped, but Bridget kept the gun trained on Valerio Conchin. Several statues toppled into the flaming rivers, but she remained focused on the man with the glowing objects in hand, still wrapped around Jules’s wrists.

  Jules had insisted he wasn’t special and that his ability with the bangles was nothing to do with fate or destiny. A genetic quirk, he suggested, and now that appeared correct.

  “Jules, it’s over,” she said. “Whatever he can do, whatever this means, none of it will matter if you die. Come with me. Please. Before it’s too late.”

  “There’s so much more.” Valerio’s face seemed to glow like the flecks embedded in the bangles themselves.

  Jules stared at Bridget. “What if he’s right? What if there’s more to discover?”

  “Show ’em the writing, boss.”

  Bridget’s attention shifted to the tablet Horse now offered.

  Valerio clearly enjoyed the shock flowing over Bridget and Jules, and the darkening of the bangles as he let go excited him even more. “Oh yes, the tablet. Lookie here, you two.” He took the stone from Horse and held it behind his back. “Before I show you, Jules, please tell your friend what language was written on this.”

  Jules hadn’t looked at anyone since Valerio let go of the bangles, clearly still stunned by what he saw, but he managed to answer, “Dunno. Didn’t recognize it.”

  Valerio held the tablet out in two hands so Bridget could see. “Recognize it now?”

  She did. And the sight of it scrambled her thoughts and made her head spin. She lowered the gun. “Are you sure it was unreadable before?”

  “Yeah,” Jules said. “Why?”

  Bridget pointed at the stone. “Because that’s not some ancient unheard-of language. And I might be a bit rusty these days in the language of God’s chosen people. But that’s Hebrew.”

  The race out of the underground lair was hot and hard. As Charlie’s grip on Dan’s neck slackened and the adrenaline spike from the initial urgency receded, she grew heavier in his arms.

  He’d carried many a fallen comrade like this out in the open in the aftermath of one IED or another. He sensed the phantom blood on his hands today, the desert heat on his neck, the need to not glance at the ragged stump of a leg blown off, and the young soldier’s weight increasing step-by-step as Dan and his remaining platoon raced toward an LZ. He couldn’t make out whether the memory was of someone specific or if it was an amalgam of several incidents as he tried to keep Charlie’s body steady, desperate to prevent tearing the wound.

  It was a relief to come across the lamp and bridge Harpal had left, which held their weight without complaint. He took his time over the mounds of books and collapsed shelves, ready to dodge anything falling from the ceiling.

  And there was plenty of rubble to slip on. The whole room had altered, angling to his right much more than before, with fresh chunks of rock from wherever the ceiling commenced.

  “It’s all coming down,” he said, hoping Bridget could hear him, that she would heed the warning. If she didn’t show soon, he’d get Charlie to safety, then return.

  The obstacles left Dan unable to use his own hands for balance until he took a moment to pause, to catch his breath and… Yeah, he could spare a moment. It could be important before pushing on.

  After a couple of seconds, he checked Charlie’s position wasn’t adding undue strain to the wound, then made it over the fallen bookcases to the crypt. He barely glanced at the body of the saint who brought them all here as he ducked out into the passage where he was thankful for the coolness of the waterfall’s spray.

  The remaining trek was downhill over rough terrain, which he sped over like a heavy gazelle until he reached the bottom of the well and found the harnesses in place. “Harpal, Toby, you copy?”

  “I’m here,” Harpal answered. “Toby’s helping with the evac. How’s Charlie?”

  Dan checked her face. “Conscious but hurt. On my mark, winch us up. Slowly.” He strapped himself in and held even tighter. “Stay with me, Charlie. I don’t need Phil’s foot up my ass if we lose you.”

  A smile dawned on Charlie’s lips, and Dan’s chest fluttered a moment as he planned in his head what to say to the medics.

  The har
ness tightened around Dan’s chest, and they rose steadily. Without a pulley system, the rope hung directly on the bricks, so Harpal must have halted them when Dan’s head showed. He summited the well’s mouth in seconds, and Dan passed Charlie up to Harpal before pulling himself out. Both carried Charlie to the helicopter where they strapped her to a stretcher. Once she was in, Dan allowed himself a moment to assess the scene.

  The half of the village bordering the hillside had been obliterated, a series of sinkholes having swallowed swathes of the place into the concealed cave system. Great sections of the hillside itself had vanished too, smoking with dust and debris.

  An explosion tore through the air.

  “The mines are going off,” Harpal explained. “Every time the ground shifts.”

  Dan understood. “Which damages the substructure even more.”

  Toby jogged over from the church where the elders knelt and prayed. Outside, sensibly. “It’s no use. They’re praying for deliverance.”

  “They might not lose the whole village,” Dan said. “The tunnels don’t extend that far.”

  “The ones we know about,” Harpal pointed out. “That place is so big, who knows how far it goes?”

  Toby stared at the hill, at the smoke pouring from the top. His arms were pinned to his sides, eyes moist. “And we’re going to lose it all.”

  “Not necessarily—”

  But another grumble from the land cut Harpal short, and a mere fifty yards away, a smaller hole opened, dropping a line of soil underground that led away from them like a plowed field. The depression must have caught a mine as another explosion rang out.

  “Damn,” Dan said. “Bridget’s bringing Jules up. I’m gonna help.”

  “No.” Toby placed a hand on Dan’s chest. “They need us here.”

  The elders stood from their prayers and hurried away from the church.

  “Even they know it’s no use,” Toby said. “Bridget made her choice. If she doesn’t make it out, you won’t either.”

  “But I have to,” Dan said. “Bridget, you hear me?” No answer. “The relays must have bought it. I can’t raise her. Toby, she needs me. I have to—”

  “She doesn’t need you, Dan. Do you think she’d consider the children here less important?”

  Dan clocked what he meant. These were large families, and they needed guidance. Kids were being herded toward a trail at the far end of the village.

  Toby said, “Bridget and Jules will get out. We all need you here.” Without a reply from Dan, he repeated, “It’s her choice. Her decision.”

  “Fine,” Dan said. “Get the chopper going. But if she dies, Toby, it’s on you.”

  “Remember the fresco?” Valerio said. “The forecaster, the storyteller.”

  Jules didn’t much care where he was going with this. They’d been static too long. And when another earthquake hit, the dust and chunks of rock were accompanied by half a dozen boulders smashing artifacts and artwork as the hole at the peak destabilized.

  “Let’s talk on the way out,” Jules suggested.

  “Do you really think I didn’t plan for this?” Valerio said. “There’s more than one way out of here!”

  Bridget backed away. “And you have no clue if that’s collapsed too. Come on, Jules.”

  Valerio placed his palms together. “One more minute, I beg you.”

  “No. Jules, let’s go.”

  Jules was about to leave when Valerio said, “The weapon.”

  Jules halted in his turn. Slowly returned to Valerio, who nodded, pleased with himself.

  “Jules. . .” Bridget forced a warning tone into her voice.

  Valerio paced a full circle, beholding the ruins collapsing around him. “A weapon that can only be wielded by special people such as you and I. Imagine what someone like me could do with it. With someone like you by my side to keep me in line.”

  A pause to take in Jules’s reaction. It must have been affirmative even though Jules made no conscious indication.

  “A sword, perhaps. A battle-ax, a spear, an arrow. Throughout history, we have examples of these things, wielded only by us—the special people. Damocles. Excalibur. Solomon. Who cares about the legend’s origin? The result is power, Jules. And this tablet, the one from the pool, it’s been amended... changed... with Hebrew writing... a language you know, correct? Not me, Jules. It changed... for you.”

  “Why not English?” Jules said, dying to run, compelled to stay.

  “I don’t know. Maybe the... pool doesn’t know English. Maybe it dug inside you to find a common tongue, something you both understand. But that isn’t the point right now. The point is we’re the same. And there are two ways out of here. Back where your red-haired fox wants you to go or through the first priest’s tomb.”

  Bridget shook her head. “Don’t listen to him. Thomas is back that way. We found him.”

  “Thomas isn’t the first priest,” Jules replied without thinking. “He was the most recent priest. But not all priests follow Jesus. This place isn’t even remotely about Christianity. Just happens it was a Christian who found it.” That wasn’t something he’d consciously thought about, but all the facts, all the things he’d seen coalesced into one simple truth. “Thomas found this place. He was one of the descendants, one who carried the gene all the way back from the time these people built it.”

  “Not starting to believe in fate, are you?” Valerio said.

  “Fate is just coincidence given retrospective meaning. And Thomas learned all he could about it. Enough to scare himself silly, and he tried to seal this place.”

  Bridget glanced between the two men. “Jules, you can’t know this.”

  “Except I do,” he said. “Thomas discovered the power that’s held here. But he didn’t know about genes or quantum physics. He believed in messiahs. And holy people. He believed the right person’d find the tomb someday and open it up.”

  “A savior,” Valerio added. “We can be saviors to the world, Jules. You and me.”

  Bridget turned her head back and forth, stepping one way, then the other. “It... makes sense. Thomas couldn’t be the first priest of the ancient writing. It predates Thomas. He just copied it.”

  Valerio nodded along, delight radiating from him.

  “The tomb is farther in, deeper underground,” she said. “In the real center of this structure.”

  As a milder tremble dislodged more rocks, sending them plunging, Valerio whooped with delight, tossing the tablet back to Horse. “If you want to be with Jules so much, my dear, come with us. Come meet him. Meet the first priest. What waits beyond those doors makes a thousand tons of crumbling boulders utterly irrelevant. What’s there will make me the most powerful human being to ever walk the earth. We will be gods.”

  The four stood in silence. Jules worked it all through his brain, desperate to see how much more his mother’s legacy might entail.

  But Bridget seemed convinced.

  Refusing to give in to Valerio’s temptation.

  “Come with me,” she said. “Please. Come this way. It’s the right thing to do.”

  “The tomb...” Jules could barely speak, the calculations coming at him so quickly now.

  “He’s wrong,” Bridget said, calm but firm. “You don’t belong with Valerio. Or his delusions.”

  “Decision time.” Valerio tapped his wrist where a watch should have been. “Now or never.”

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  “I’m going with her.” Jules snatched the tablet from Horse and turned his back. “You wanna come?”

  “Me?” Horse said.

  “Him?” Bridget said.

  Jules stood between Valerio and Horse. “His leg’s broken, he’s got no place with Valerio.”

  “Not true,” Valerio said. “I look after all my employees. Even the lame, err, horses. Heh-heh.”

  “He’ll get rid of you,” Jules warned. “We’ll help you get out, find you medical treatment.”

  “And get me put in jail,” Horse
said. “No thanks. I had faith in the boss for a long, long time. Can’t lose it now. I’m following the money.”

  “And the power,” Valerio said.

  “Then I’m sorry.” Jules turned his back again. “Another time, eh?”

  Bridget led the way. As more sections of rock fell all around, smashing pieces too old to imagine, they fled, jumping the encroaching flames, dodging boulders.

  To the left side of the complex, daylight cracked through. The jagged gap widened, then brightness from the outside world poured in. A huge rending of earth echoed across the cavern, and the biggest section of roof gave way.

  Wide as a football field, twisting inward, the back part remained attached to the hillside’s outer layer as if on a rusty hinge. It was huge, wide enough to annihilate a quarter of the floor space. The ruptured slab of land and roof slammed into the repository, louder than any explosive.

  Plumes of dust and shrapnel followed them, and Bridget ditched the gun, its weight plainly holding her back. She ran with Jules through the door to the library at the top of the stairs, shielded from the shockwave of debris just in time.

  The tunnel was dark, and both had left their headlamps behind at some point, but a wan glow ahead lit enough of the contours to navigate by. Jules kept Bridget a couple of yards ahead.

  Once they reached the source of the light, she ducked low and crawled under the slab of a doorway. He followed, stunned by the sight that greeted him.

  A room so long he could barely see the end—he estimated 600 feet or more—with books and shelves scattered all over, the shelves felled like dominos. A chasm guarded the place, right in front of him, too dark to measure, with a stone slab allowing them to cross. But there was only so much light because of flames licking through from multiple fissures below.

  “No,” Bridget breathed as she stepped onto the crossing.

  “We gotta go back,” Jules said.

  But Bridget ran over to the fallen tomes. “That last cave-in must have cracked the floor. Help me. We need to seal it. Maybe we can come back, save them.”