The Emerald Casket (28 page)

Alisha peered down the closest alleyway. It was barely wide enough to walk through. ‘Let's give this one a try.'

The lane veered to the left but after a short way turned sharply to the right. It zigzagged on.

‘Get the feeling we're in a maze?' Ruby said as they trudged deeper into the city.

They finally emerged from the alley into an open space. The archeologists had done an amazing job. Hills of sand were pushed back against the dam walls on either side, exposing the majority of the city to air and sunshine for the first time in a millennium. Traces of seaweed and barnacles clung to some of the buildings.

‘We must be way below sea level here,' Gerald said. ‘It's like the bottom of a giant skate bowl.' The sea breeze might still have been whipping up white caps outside but on the city floor there was an eerie stillness.

Ruby scanned the tops of the rock walls to their left and right. ‘Hey, check out those sausage things,' she said. ‘They're moving.'

The inflatable battens were rising. A curtain of thick blue plastic unfolded beneath them.

‘They must float up with the tide,' Gerald said. ‘And the sheeting underneath holds back the water. Clever.'

‘Let's hope they don't spring a leak,' Sam said. ‘This is real needle in a haystack stuff. Where do we even start to look for the casket?'

There were buildings with darkened doorways everywhere. Gerald peered up at the six temples standing tall and dominant in the centre of the site. Ruby followed his gaze.

‘They're like a family, aren't they?' she said. ‘Like six brothers.'

Gerald grunted agreement. Then almost choked. ‘Or seven sisters!'

Ruby looked at him, confused.

‘My great aunt's letter to my Mum,' Gerald said. ‘From the video call on the plane. Mum mentioned that Geraldine said if I had any questions about my family history I should seek out the seven sisters.' He pointed up at the temples. ‘
These
are the seven sisters.'

Sam wrinkled his brow. ‘But there's only six of them,' he said.

‘Not if you count the Shore Temple back in town as well. Maybe when the sea swallowed up the city, one sister was left behind. Geraldine must have known about this place, but she never told Mr Hoskins.'

‘Just a few trust issues in your family?' Alisha said.

Ruby set off towards the temples. ‘That's as good a place to start as any,' she said. Spray fired over the top of the inflatable barriers and rained down on them. The tide was rising.

They found their way through an arched entry into a courtyard. Six spires rose up before them, the tallest and most ornate in the middle.

‘Doesn't it blow your mind, Gerald?' Ruby said. ‘One of your ancestors once walked around here.'

‘Yep,' he said. ‘My family is full of surprises. Let's start with the tallest sister.'

The base of the middle temple was surrounded by rows of stone cows—perhaps a hundred sculptures— all carved from the same golden rock as the main structure.

‘Welcome to the final resting place of the entombed graziers,' Sam said as he picked his way through the herd.

The bottom of the tower was laid out as a square, maybe thirty metres each side. Gerald climbed a stone stairway to a platform and faced an enormous set of double doors. He leaned his shoulder against one stone portal and shoved hard. It didn't budge a whisker.

‘There's another set of doors here.' It was Alisha, calling from around the corner.

‘Here too,' Sam called to Gerald's right.

But it was Ruby's faint voice from the far side of the temple that had them all running. ‘Found it!' she shouted.

Gerald caught up with Alisha and almost lost his footing on the sandy paving on the final turn. Sam arrived from the other direction and the three of them skidded to a stop to join Ruby. She was pointing at the lintel above a tall doorway—carved into the rock was the familiar triangle of arms with a sun blazing in the centre.

Sam slapped his palms onto the stone and pushed. Nothing. ‘Come on,' he said. ‘Give me a hand.'

Four sets of shoulders heaved against the doors but they may as well have been trying to turn back time.

Sam slumped onto a mound of sand. ‘That thing's not moving for anyone, at least not without a stick of dynamite.'

‘Maybe the casket is safe, then?' Alisha said.

Gerald stared at his family seal, still clear after so many centuries buried in the sand. ‘A door isn't going to stop Mason Green. Or the thin man. We've got to find a way inside.'

Ruby had joined Sam on the sand pile and poked around some of the half-buried sculptures scattered there. She found a brush left behind by one of the archeologists and whisked sand away from a statue of an elephant.

‘That one's Ganesha,' Alisha said. ‘The god for removing obstacles.'

Ruby brushed more sand away to reveal a potbellied elephant with four arms. ‘I know,' she said. ‘We've seen him before.' She cleared away the last of the sand at the base of the statue. ‘What's this?'

Alisha peered over her shoulder.

‘That's just his vahana…his vehicle. All the gods have an animal to carry them around,' she said.

Ruby snickered.

‘What's so funny?' Sam asked.

‘Guess which animal Ganesha rides about on,' Ruby said.

‘What?'

‘Your favourite—a rat!'

Sam scrunched his eyes shut, as if someone had just scraped their fingernails down the inside of his skull. ‘Shut up about rats, okay?'

Gerald glanced at Ruby. There was a glint in her eye.

‘What's the matter, Sam?' Ruby asked, taking a step towards him. ‘You're not still frightened of little claws on your skin, are you?'

‘Shut up, Ruby!' Sam squirmed deeper into the sand.

His sister loomed over him, her eyes wide and her fingers wriggling in the air. ‘Ooh, the rats are going to get you. They're crawling under your shirt. Their tails are slithering down your back!'

‘Shut
up
!'

Sam rolled back onto the sand pile. His face contorted in disgust, the thought of a rat scurrying down his spine sending him into a roiling fit of revulsion. Ruby couldn't help herself.

‘Feel the fur! Feel the claws!'

There was a hollow
clunk
. It came from deep beneath the sand. Sam stopped his squirming and his eyes shot open. Then, as if a hand had reached up from the pit of hell and grabbed him by the collar, he disappeared beneath the surface.

The sand settled flat again, as if Sam had been vacuumed from existence.

Chapter 22

F
or a full three seconds, no one moved or uttered a sound.

Then Alisha dived into the pile, dropping to her knees and shovelling sand aside. Before Ruby and Gerald could get in to help, she sank to her waist. The sand was like a whirlpool intent on swallowing her whole. A plaintive cry of ‘Gerald' escaped her lips, then her head vanished under the sand.

‘Come on!' Gerald cried. He and Ruby both leapt into the pit. The sand collapsed clean away.

They landed feet first in a mound of fine sand, sinking up to their thighs, and stood there like candles stuffed into a birthday cake. The last of the grit showered onto them.

Gerald wiped his eyes and looked at Ruby. She had a pyramid of sand on her head. He started laughing.

‘This is all your fault, you know,' he said. ‘You shouldn't tease him.'

Ruby shook her head like a dog at the beach. Sand flew everywhere.

‘It's his fault for being such a wuss.'

They were in the centre of an eight-sided chamber. Sam and Alisha were dusting off by an alcove set into one of the walls. A thin beam of light shone through the narrow opening above.

‘I don't think we'll be climbing out that way,' Gerald said, gazing at the hole they'd fallen through. He slid down the mound of sand to the stone floor. Ruby followed.

‘See, Sam?' she said to her brother. ‘Maybe when you grow up you can be a plumber—drains unblocked to order.'

Sam reached into his backpack, pulled out a headlamp and flicked on the light. ‘Gosh, you are so funny,' he said. ‘Don't suppose you thought to bring one of these? Lucky for you, I've got spares.' Sam dug out three more lamps. He tossed one to Ruby. ‘Now why don't you use that amazing brain of yours to find us a way out of here? Shouldn't take you more than a hundred years.'

Soon four beams of light darted around the chamber as they poked about searching for an exit. The walls were lined with stone carvings, depicting hundreds of gods and demons in various stages of battle. A deep alcove with more carvings inside was set into the centre of each of the eight walls.

Gerald and Sam inspected one cluster of stone figures.

‘Look at that one,' Sam said, pointing to a line of carvings on the wall. ‘Does that look like a priest raising someone from the dead?'

‘Do you have a thing about zombies?' Gerald asked.

‘Nowhere near as big as the thing he has about rats.'

‘Shut up, Ruby!'

Gerald chuckled and stepped into one of the alcoves. He trained his light onto the back wall. He ran his fingertips across the smooth face of a pig-headed demon. How long ago had the artist put the finishing touches to that? Gerald tilted his head. There was a rumbling sound above, like thunder. In an instant, a massive granite slab crashed down behind him, sealing him in. He spun around and threw himself against it but, just like the doors to the temple, it wasn't going anywhere. He smacked the flat of his hand on the rock and yelled. Nothing. If the others were calling out for him from the other side, he couldn't hear them. He was completely cut off, like the dead from the living.

Gerald tried to swallow the rising panic. He was snared in a space no bigger than two old-fashioned phone boxes. The light from his headlamp bounced around the walls as he searched for a way out. He raced from side to side, sliding his hands across the walls of his stone prison. There was no hidden panel, no secret switch to open the trap. He called out again but the dead sound of his voice rang hollow in his ears. Then he noticed a trickle of water on the floor. Gerald dropped to his knees. Water was seeping in through a line of small openings at the base of the far wall. The trickle was building to a flow. Within seconds it was gushing in, splashing over Gerald's boots.

The tiny alcove was filling with water.

Gerald pounded on the walls, screaming for help. A searing pain shot through his foot. Two crabs had slipped into his torture chamber with the torrent of water. One lashed out with a nipper. It sliced the tough fabric of his boot, nicking a toe. Gerald kicked out. The crab threw its claw and swam clear. Gerald stamped into the knee-high water, but more crabs swam in through the openings.

The panic that had been bubbling at the surface now cascaded over. Gerald flailed in all directions, lashing out with arms and legs, churning the water into a frothing cauldron. But the higher the water level rose, the harder it was to have any impact on the crabs. A claw slashed through the leg of his pants, cutting into his thigh. Gerald drove a hand under the surface and grabbed the crab by its back. He ripped it free. The claw stuck in the cloth of his pants. He dashed the crab against the wall. Still, the water level rose. And still the crabs came.

Gerald had to get out of the water. He jammed his shoulders up against the granite slab and pressed a foot against the opposite wall. With a grunt he pushed back and walked himself up the wall.

With his hands pressed up over his shoulders he was able to lift himself clear of the surface and he stretched out horizontal across the alcove. He inched up as high as he could get. But he knew it couldn't last. He flinched. The tip of a crab claw had sliced a neat line through the seat of his pants.

‘This is getting serious,' he muttered.

Gerald took a deep breath and summoned every spark of strength left in him—then heaved out with his feet, driving hard from the thighs. Nothing happened. The water kept rising. Gerald felt more nips at his backside. But then there was a give, a slight shift in the rock. He heaved once more, crying out like a teenage tennis player.

Whether it was Gerald's brute strength pumped by adrenalin or the build-up of the water pressure, the back wall crashed open spilling thousands of litres and dozens of crabs across a broad stone floor. Gerald dropped to the ground and rolled clear of the flashing nippers that snapped at his back. He came to rest on his hands and knees and sucked in deep breaths.

Somewhere in the background he sensed a change—something different in the atmosphere. The pumps had just switched back on.
Must have been a blackout
, Gerald thought. He picked himself up and stepped over the last of the crabs as they scuttled across the stones, crunching one under his boot on the way. He swung his headlamp around. He was on the edge of a huge courtyard under a vaulted ceiling. A mezzanine skirted the upper walls. Doorways led to rooms and halls that hadn't seen the light of the sun for a thousand years. He ventured into the courtyard. The sound of his footsteps bounced around, the clear echo somehow emphasising just how alone Gerald was feeling. He had to get back to his friends.

The light from Gerald's headlamp started to dim. He whacked it on the side. It flared, but he knew that time was short. He started to jog towards the far side of the courtyard. He ran up stone stairs to a wall with three doorways. He poked his head inside the middle one. The straining lamp illuminated a narrow passageway.

‘This looks as good as any,' he muttered and wandered in.

He could just make out a lightening of the darkness ahead. Finally he stumbled out of the passage.

‘Holy cow,' Gerald breathed.

He stood inside the base of the tallest temple in the lost city of Mamallapuram.

Each of the four walls that sloped up to the peak played host to hundreds—maybe thousands—of sculptures. They clung to the surface in an endless diorama of figures locked in an eternal battle of good versus evil, no closer to resolution than when the artists set the fight in motion more than a thousand years ago. They were painted in the brightest hues of red, green, gold and blue. Each face was an individual and each one a masterpiece. The sculptures climbed all the way to a jewelled ceiling that glowed in a shaft of radiance from the floodlights outside.