“All right,” Hawke said. “We’re here and we’re unarmed. Release Kloos.”
“Not until we have the sword,” Kruger said. “Now get inside — and no funny business.” To clarify the consequences of any rebellion, Zito and his men moved forward and raised their guns.
Lea stood defiant. “Where’s Maggie’s idol?”
“Shut your mouth and move!” he snarled.
They moved into the hole and quickly found themselves inside a cold, narrow tunnel, kept secret from the world for countless centuries by the slab of granite the Eryx had destroyed moments earlier. Shuffling deeper now, the hand-carved tunnel was so narrow they had to move into single-file, and their shoulders brushed against the rough stone as they moved into the heart of the mountain.
The tunnel opened out and revealed a small chamber. Opposite them, an arched entrance was carved into the rock wall. Hawke shone his flashlight beam at it, and above the door was a smooth, granite lintel with some words carved into it.
Kruger turned to Kloos. The old man was still being held up by Zito’s thugs and was barely conscious.
Kruger poked the professor in the stomach with his gun. “What does it say, old man?”
Kloos mumbled incoherently.
“What about you, Bale?”
Ryan frowned. “It says Annwn. It’s the Welsh underworld, but I don’t know much about it. It’s the Welsh version of the classic otherworld — the Tibetans had Shambhala and the Irish had Tír na nÓg.”
“The Land of the Young,” Lea said quietly. “My father talked to me about it.”
“This stuff is all very pre-Christian,” Ryan continued. “All I know about Annwn is that there was endless food there and no death or disease. It basically morphed into the Christian concept of Paradise, except there’s a difference — the word Annwn refers to the great depth of the place, whereas we see heaven as high above us and hell being below.”
“That’s right,” Kloos said, his voice weak and trembling. “The King of Annwn was Gwyn ap Nudd, and he used to hunt for mortal souls with his hell hounds, known in Welsh as Cŵn Annwn. There is an ancient poem called the Spoils of Annwn — a very cryptic and strange piece of text that describes how King Arthur himself made an expedition to Annwn,”
He stopped to cough and spit out some blood. “There are Irish accounts recounting similar details. At this stage Welsh and Irish myths are closely intertwined. Some say this expedition was nothing more than Arthur’s journey to Ireland, but I have always known in my heart he went to the actual underworld… Annwn.”
“And you think this damned place is Annwn?” Kruger said.
“Sounds like nonsense to me,” Zito added. “All this for a sword.”
Kruger turned on him and raised a blade to his fat throat. “You keep it down, Gianni, or I’ll gut you like one of your Italian sardines, right boy?”
Zito was shocked, but Kruger had the power and everyone knew it, including Zito. He gave a hurried nod and tried to smile. “I meant nothing by it, Dirk.”
Kruger slid the blade back in his belt, satisfied he had quelled the mutiny, but Hawke noticed a look in Zito’s eyes. Something told him Kruger had better watch his back around the Italian from now on.
“I’ve had enough of all this crap about underworlds and hell hounds,” the South African said, and turned to Vermaak. “I was married to a hell hound once.”
Vermaak laughed and gave Kruger a hearty slap on the back, but Zito and his men were less impressed, and Hawke wondered if he could exploit the difference of opinion between the two groups of men.
“So let’s get inside,” the arms dealer said. “I want to get out of this place.”
They made their way deep inside the mountain. In the second tunnel, the wind howled and whistled like an army of ghosts disturbed after centuries of silent rest. Moving further forward now, and with Kruger and the others a safe distance behind them, they started to notice the tunnel opening out.
They advanced further until they reached a large cavern: carvings in the rocky walls showed an ancient human presence, and then they saw stone steps carved into the side of the cave. Each step had been hewn from granite into a perfectly smooth slab, and they descended away from the ledge until disappearing into an unsettling darkness deep in the earth.
Hawke looked at the steps doubtingly. “I don’t like the look of that.”
Scarlet appeared at his arm and peered down the steps into the damp gloom. “I used to go to a nightclub with an entrance like that.”
“No doubt the sort where you need a password to get in,” Hawke said.
“As matter of fact, yes,” she replied.
“And a safeword when you’re in there,” Ryan said with a smirk.
Scarlet leaned in and whispered in Ryan’s ear, but loud enough for all to hear. “As matter of fact yes. Where do you think I get my fighting techniques from?”
The young man’s response took a second too long to come, and then Kruger filled the silence. “What are you waiting for, Hawke? Get down the steps. If you think there might be a booby-trap then send one of your team first.”
“I go first, Kruger,” Hawke replied. “We don’t all think like you.”
The Englishman took the first step with the same level of trepidation he imagined Neil Armstrong must have felt, but his boot landed on solid granite and slowly he led the others down the stone steps into the darkness with only his flashlight to guide him safely and stop a lethal fall off the side.
They reached the bottom of the steps and found themselves facing a decrepit rope suspension bridge which spanned a narrow gorge. Hawke pointed his beam down and it disappeared into blackness.
“Afraid, Hawke?”
He turned and saw Kruger moving through his men.
“Why don’t you go ahead of, Dirk?” Hawke said. “Ladies first, after all.”
Kruger leaned into Hawke, making sure he had a tight grip on his gun. He pushed the muzzle into the Englishman’s stomach. “Get over the fucking bridge, cuiter.”
Hawke stared back into his eyes and never blinked or flinched. His team were looking to him for leadership, and getting shot in the stomach and left to bleed out inside a mountain wasn’t what they needed right now.
“Take care, Joe!” Lea said.
He cautiously crossed the bridge, his hands gripping the frayed rope cables either side as he made his way to the far ledge. It swayed violently as he passed the middle, but came under control again when he drew closer to the other side.
The others followed and when they reached the other side they followed a crumbling tunnel until they pulled up at another set of stone steps. “Christ,” Kruger cursed. “This is like Lord of the fucking Rings. Move on, you bastards!”
They obeyed, and at the bottom of the second staircase was a running river. They were hundreds of feet inside the mountain now, and the sight of the sparkling water surprised them all. Looming behind it was an enormous door, built into the rock and firmly closed. Dust and cobwebs obscured much of it and it was clear it hadn’t been opened for hundreds of years.
Kruger greedily pushed his men out of the way, including Giancarlo Zito whom he nearly knocked into the river. “Looks like we’re in business.” He turned to Kloos who was still being held up by Bruno, one eye badly swollen. The professor was mumbling to himself through a mouth frothing with blood. “Looks like Teach here isn't going to be much use.” His men shared a low, humorless chuckle. “But you all remember what that insane crackpot told us — get the sword at all costs. Prepare the Eryx.”