The Thrones of Eden 3 (Eden) by Rick Jones Page A

the edges, and her eyes were alight with endearment.
    He turned to Demir, his face registering the fact that he wasn’t too happy about the commando striking him with an intentional low blow and playing upon his guilt. He then looked at the Ankh, at the crystal foundation, knowing that they had a fifty-fifty chance of surviving should they make the wrong decision as to which direction to turn it. “If we’re going to do this,” he finally said, “then we need to come to a logical conclusion as to which direction we need to turn the base.”
    Hillary stepped forward with his finger raised. “This Ankh,” he stated, “is the Key to Life, yes?”
    “That’s right.”
    “When we put a key into a lock, in any lock, what direction do we normally turn it in order to open a doorway?”
    “To the right,” said Alyssa.
    “Precisely. We usually turn the key to the right in a clockwise direction.” He looked at the structure, at the magnificent display of crafted work that was nearly perfect in its shape and form. “We turn the Ankh to the right, to the East.”
    To Savage it sounded solid. Then to Alyssa: “What do you think?”
    This was a difficult choice for her as she examined the faces of Demir and the ministers who seemed to wait with subdued anticipation and dread at the same time, with each one looking at her as if she was an oracle who knew what the immediate future would hold—good, bad or indifferent. “It’s . . . logical,” she finally said.
    Savage picked up the lack of confidence in her tone. “But?”
    She shrugged. “It’s still a fifty-fifty chance.”
    “But taking into consideration the rational approach in regards to the Ankh being the symbol representing the Key of Life—logically speaking, of course—then turning the Key in a clockwise direction makes the most sense here. Don’t you concur?”
    Savage had to agree. Eden was filled with riddles—and sometimes riddles within riddles. But everything seemed to fit . . . logically speaking.
    “OK,” said Savage. “If we’re going to move on, if this place has something more to show us, then I’m sure turning this structure is the key to opening the next gateway or passage.”
    Hillary walked around the Ankh, admiring it. “Of course I’m a man of age who does not have the strength.” He let this hang like bait, which Demir quickly accepted.
    “My men are more than capable,” he said. Then he motioned to two of his Berets with a hand gesture to leave their posts along the amphitheater’s wall and join them by the Ankh, both beefy soldiers with broad shoulders and thick arms, men of obvious strength. Demir then proffered orders in Turkish, speaking in a quick clip while pointing to the crystal base.
    The men quickly maneuvered into position and inserted their fingers into the indentations, the men now on their knees and looking as if they were clawing the foundation with the tips of their fingers deeply embedded inside the foot of the crystal.
    On the given command, they began to turn the Ankh in a clockwise direction, finding it immoveable at first, the men straining, the veins in their necks sticking out like cords, their teeth gritting. Then suddenly the structure started to give. The Ankh, the base, began to turn slowly with the sound of stone grating against stone, their efforts now becoming paramount as the base turned faster and with more ease, unlocking a gate, a passageway.
    Eventually the Ankh clicked in place with a sound that was loud and definite.
    The air was still and tomblike. Not a breath could be heard.
    And once again the world began to shake.
     
     

 
     
     
    CHAPTER THIRTEEN
     
    Weights and balances that could not be seen with the naked eye moved with the Key’s turn, causing stone and silica formations to shift and alter like doors opening and closing, giving entrance to new venues while sealing off others.
    The concentric circles of seating were the first to go, the rows sinking into the slanting floor