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

until the ground surface was flush and smooth, the amphitheater now shaped like a funnel, the floor converging downward to the central point of the Ankh at a steep angle, the Ankh itself sinking into the floor, and then gone, leaving a gaping hole that was as black as pitch.
    John reached out for Alyssa and caught her by the forearm. Then he clung to her as he pressed himself against the floor, the angle not as steep by the hole, but still steep enough as her feet dangled over the edges of the maw as she kicked for purchase but found no traction. With great effort he pulled her back from the brink, away from the drop, the cordlike muscles in his arm becoming well defined.
    Hillary stayed close to the floor where the angle was almost a flat plane, his face horrifically twisted as he lay there with paralytic terror.
    Demir, however, fought for the survival of his men. He was leaning over the edge, the bottom unseen, with a soldier in the grip of each hand. The men had slipped when the Ankh broke through the floor, the silica giving beneath their feet. But Demir’s holds were beginning to weaken as his men kicked madly for the purchase of a foothold, their combining weight beginning to pull Demir over the edge.
    Savage grabbed Demir’s ankle and tried to anchor him.
    But the weight was too great. Demir was going over.
    “Don’t let go!” yelled Savage, holding Demir with one hand while pinning Alyssa down with the other. “Hang on!”
    But Demir couldn’t as the grip of one man began to slip from his grasp, the hand slowly riding down Demir’s wrist until they clung by the points of their fingertips, and then he was gone, the soldier’s arms pin-wheeling as he fell into the depths of the abyss and into darkness, his cries fading to a whisper. 
    Demir reached over and took hold of the remaining soldier by grabbing the man’s wrist with both hands, and called out to Savage for assistance. “Pull me back!”
    Savage grit his teeth and made an attempt to do so, but the weight was too great, the slight angle making matters worse, like trying to keep a boulder from rolling downhill. “I can’t!”
    The hanging soldier’s eyes grew to the size of communion wafers as an undercurrent of terror coursed through him like something cold and electric.
    “Saaaavaaaage!” Demir’s struggles beginning to fail him, the man at the end of his arm growing heavy beyond imagination.
    The room continued to shake dramatically. And the men standing sentinel along the upper tier where the angle was greatest lost their footing and fell, their bodies sliding along the downward angle of the funnel-shaped floor toward the hole, their speed picking up momentum the further they slid, each man clawing for something, anything, but finding nothing. Some turned onto their bellies and scratched at the surface, each trying to slow the impetus of their slide.
    Some were able to brake, using the points of their boots to anchor them.
    Others, however, continued to pick up speed and flew off into the abyss, their screams fading to cold silence.
    When everything stilled, when everything became silent, with Savage holding onto Demir, the clinging soldier reached up and grabbed the edge with his free hand. And with adrenaline-fueled effort, he pulled himself out of the hole and laid along the edge with an arm dangling over the abyss, his chest laboring for calm.
    As the commando regained himself, Demir gave a quick examination of his men and noted the sudden shift of the amphitheater’s configuration. The room had changed to something cone-shaped, the downward angles of the floor leading to the choke point of the pit’s mouth.
    By his estimate he lost four men. The one who lost his grip and the three that slid into the abyss. In a moment that lasted less than a minute, he had lost a quarter of his team. Demir slowly closed his eyes, suppressed welling emotions, and said a silent prayer for those he considered to be brothers forever lost.
    Beside him the