Uncharted The Fourth Labyrinth

15



Though the difference was gradual and subtle, there could be no mistaking the fact that their travels through the labyrinth were taking them deeper. Drake had the impression they were also moving farther away from the fortress. In Egypt, they had explored only a small section of a sprawling maze that might have been the size of a town. The temple at Knossos had thousands of rooms, and he suspected that they were inside a structure just as vast as that one. There were small chambers off the tunnels and corridors; some apparently were for storage, whereas others appeared to have been used for rituals. Several had frescoes on the walls that were neither Egyptian nor Greek in style but a merging of both. Those rooms surprised them, as did the presence of the flower motif they had encountered at the entrance, which was repeated in many of the small rooms.

In the tunnels, however, there were no decorations, no frescoes, nothing that might be used as a landmark for those lost in the maze. Only those side chambers might have given an intruder clues, but although their contents might be different, their design was consistent from one to the next.

They had come three times to what seemed a dead end only to discover hidden doorways, and twice they had descended secret stairways into lower levels of the labyrinth. Sometimes it felt as if they were traveling far from their origin point, and at others it seemed to Drake they were going in ever diminishing circles.

The diamonds or lack thereof had not failed them yet. Not once had they had to retrace their steps. Yet Drake had wondered if the trail without diamonds was leading them to the center of the labyrinth or to some trap for fools who thought they were clever and ended up instead broken after a fall through a shaft in the floor.

There had been dozens of shafts. After Drake had come around a corner and had to hurl himself across one, nearly tumbling into it, they were taking corners more carefully now. The air that came up from the shafts was warm enough that each of them had built up a sheen of sweat. The deeper they descended, the more the temperature increased.

“I guess this is what comes from digging into the skin of a volcanic island,” Jada had said the first time she touched a wall and pulled her hand away, surprised at the heat.

But it didn’t slow her down. If anything, it spurred her on so that half the time she was in the lead, though they didn’t let her get too far ahead. There was no telling when some hidden trap might be sprung.

They worked their way through a series of narrow openings, nearly missed a turn made invisible by the placement and coloration of stone, and had to backtrack when they discovered they had entered a tunnel marked with a diamond. When they had righted themselves, they found a tunnel so low that they were forced to crouch to pass through.

Once they had reached a place where they could stand again, they found themselves at a fork where both tunnels sloped downward at steep angles, the first time they had encountered such a significant drop without stairs.

“How deep are we?” Jada asked as she looked for the markings inside each of the doorways, shining her flashlight into the darkened passages.

“Good question,” Sully replied, studying the walls inside the left passage. “Look at this.”

Drake crouched to get a closer look at the engraving. Near the floor, just inside the door, was an octagon inside a circle like the ones they had found in Crocodilopolis. Just one, which made sense given that only in the worship chambers had they encountered that triple-octagon design that seemed to represent the three labyrinths designed by Daedalus. But this one was different in another way. Etched inside the octagon was the same flower design they had seen all through this labyrinth.

“What the hell is that flower?” Drake asked, but it was a rhetorical question. None of them knew the answer.

“No diamond here,” Sully said, shining his light on the stone above the door.

“Jada, come on,” Drake said. “It’s this one.”

He poked his head out and saw her standing just inside the entrance to the right-hand passage of the fork. She wore a puzzled expression.

“Hey,” he said. “What’s up?”

Jada looked at him. “I hear water.”

Drake went to join her, Sully hurrying to catch up. He gestured for Jada to take the lead, and she did, making her way cautiously down the sloping tunnel, using her flashlight to study the floor in front of them before taking a step. The incline grew steeper until only the roughness of the surface gave them enough traction to avoid sliding down into the dark.

The noise of the surf grew louder as they descended, and Drake wondered if they possibly could have gone so far from the hill. Granted, Akrotiri village was a stone’s throw from the cliffs overlooking the ocean, but how far had they gone underground? The question seemed moot as the sound of the crashing water increased.

“Anyone notice the temperature difference down here?” Sully asked.

“I made the mistake of touching the wall,” Jada replied.

Drake tested it, placing his palm against the stone. Though it was not hot enough to burn him, the temperature had risen. When the floor began to level out, they found themselves in a small chamber whose floor was shot through with circular vents. Unlike the shafts they had seen on the upper levels of the labyrinth, these seemed natural. Steam rose from the openings.

“Kill the lights,” Drake said.

Jada cast an odd glance his way, but when Sully shut his flashlight off, she complied as well. He heard her small gasp. Though dim, each of the vents gave off a reddish glow.

“We really are on top of a volcano,” Jada said softly.

“Did you think it was an urban legend?” Drake asked.

She clicked her flashlight back on. “No. It’s just so hard to imagine how anyone can live here, knowing that it might all be obliterated at any time.”

“People will give up a lot for paradise,” Sully rumbled.

Drake glanced at him. “That may be just about the smartest thing you’ve ever said. Seriously.”

“Inside this grizzled exterior is a great philosopher,” Sully advised him.

“I’ll try to remember that,” Drake replied.

They continued through the small chamber and into a series of short zags and switchbacks, the water growing louder. Only a minute or so later, their flashlight beams were swallowed by vast gray nothing. Sully grabbed Drake’s arm as Jada came to a startled halt. They swept the lights back and found the precipice half a dozen feet ahead. Part of the labyrinth had collapsed, opening up a cavern thirty feet above them and at least sixty feet wide. Stone blocks and what looked like the remnants of walls painted with frescoes were amid the rubble strewn far below, picked out by the flashlight beams as Sully and Jada investigated.

They were in a sea cave, but no light came from outside. Perhaps at low tide there might have been an opening, but the entrance to the cave was submerged. The water crashed on the rocks not in waves but in a churning ebb and flow that reminded Drake of breathing, in and out, filling and emptying. If this had been the path to the center of the labyrinth and the worship chambers, they would have been out of luck.

“The earthquake must have shaken this wing of the labyrinth apart,” Jada said.

“Some earthquake,” Sully said. “I’m sure there’ve been a hell of a lot of them since the island blew up in the first place.”

For several seconds, they just stared at the sea cave and the salt water washing over the rubble far below the precipice. Drake thought he could make out some of the details on the shattered frescoes down there. There were images of flowers yet again, but another caught his eye: a veiled woman kneeling before a horned figure, offering a chalice. He would not have been able to make out the image if not for the fact that he’d seen one quite like it in the labyrinth of Sobek. Then the water washed over it, falling against the debris, and he reminded himself that whatever they were supposed to find, it would await them at the heart of the labyrinth.

“Come on,” he said. “We’re wasting time. Don’t want to miss our taxi.”

Sully took point as they retraced their steps. After the small cave with its steaming volcanic vents, the three of them had to make their way up the steep tunnel. Bent into the effort, sometimes using their hands to steady themselves on the severe incline, they climbed back toward the fork in the maze.

“Damn, I need to cut back on the Oreos,” Drake muttered as he hiked after Sully. The heat of the labyrinth had begun to affect him more, and he wished they had brought more water.

They ascended for several seconds in silence before Jada chuckled.

“Wow,” she said. “Uncle Vic doesn’t even have the energy to be snarky.”

“I’m taking the high road,” Sully rasped tiredly.

Drake chose not to comment. Either they both were taking the high road or they both were too busy clambering up through the steep tunnel to bicker. As they reached the fork, where the labyrinth leveled out again, Sully sighed in relief. But as Drake looked up, seeing Sully illuminated by the golden glow of the flashlight, which threw strange shadows all around the labyrinth corridor ahead, he saw a figure dart from the right and strike Sully across the head.

Sully cried out in pain and went to his knees, clutching his skull where he’d been struck.

Tyr Henriksen stood over him, brandishing a blue-black pistol with cruel confidence. He stepped back so that Sully couldn’t lash out at him but kept his gun aimed at Sully’s head.

“I know you’re armed,” Henriksen said. “But I’ve got kind of a head start, and bullets travel fast.”

Drake took the warning, keeping his hands where Henriksen could see them as he emerged from the steep tunnel. He could vaguely hear the sound of water behind him, but that sea cave seemed distant and beautiful now, like some forgotten grotto.

“Leave him alone, you son of a bitch,” Jada said, pushing past Drake and hurrying toward Sully. She knelt by him protectively, and Henriksen did nothing to stop her, though he kept the gun on them both.

Others began to emerge into the split corridor. From the other sloping tunnel in the fork came two gunmen, one short but powerfully built and the other the kind of dead-eyed, buzz-cut mercenary whose very aura suggested a military career gone wrong. Three others appeared from the tunnel Drake, Jada, and Sully had used to get this far. By their complexion and the curiosity in their eyes, Drake decided they must be local talent: homegrown Greek thugs. One had long since gone gray, and his skin was taut and weathered so that it looked almost like tree bark. The other two looked enough like him to be his sons. They were also armed. Counting Henriksen, that made six guns against three, but Henriksen and his goons had theirs drawn already, which made the odds moot.

“You followed us,” Drake said.

“Of course,” Henriksen said, giving a small shrug, blue eyes shining in the illumination from the flashlights. Several of the thugs carried them, and the corridor was lit up brightly now.

“You had a chance to talk to Welch before our mysterious hooded men snatched him away,” he went on. “And we knew you had Luka’s notes. The Russo woman was helpful at the Temple of Sobek, but she had to bring in others to interpret the writing there, and we couldn’t wait for her and track you at the same time. It was a gamble, but we put all of our faith in you.”

His smile made Drake’s hands ball into fists.

“I’m glad we could help,” Sully said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “You want to point that thing somewhere else?”

Henriksen glanced down at his gun as if he’d forgotten it was there. “This? Not just yet.” He gestured with the barrel. “What I’d like is for the three of you to take out your own weapons and set them on the floor, then back away slowly. We wouldn’t want anyone to get shot.”

Drake frowned. Something in the man’s tone surprised him. It almost sounded as if Henriksen meant it. Quickly glancing around, Drake noticed the easy stance of the other men. They might be thugs and even—particularly in the case of the one with the buzz cut and the stumpy musclehead—killers, but they didn’t look ready to kill. Not at this moment. Certainly, if Drake went for his gun, that would change, but these guys seemed way too relaxed for men who had tracked down prey.

For the first time, he wondered if they had somehow gotten it all wrong.

“Guns,” Henriksen repeated, because none of them had moved.

As Jada reached delicately for hers, Drake stopped her, a hand on her arm. Every one of the gunmen shifted to aim at him.

“I don’t think so,” he said, studying Henriksen’s face. “If you’re going to kill us all the same, you might as well get it over with.”

Henriksen arched an eyebrow. “You’re an enigmatic man, Mr. Drake. Most people don’t volunteer to be shot.”

“I’ve been shot before. I’m still alive. Not that I really like the idea. The food on this island is amazing, and I had my heart set on the lamb special tonight.”

With a grim smile, Henriksen nodded. “That does sound enticing. And truth be told, I have difficulty with the idea of murder. You’ve all been so useful in helping me reach my goals. I wonder, perhaps, if you could be trusted to continue that usefulness under a more formal arrangement.”

“I’d rather die,” Jada said, and this time when she reached for her gun, it was not to surrender.

Drake grappled with her for a second, stripping the pistol from her hand.

“Whoa, whoa,” Sully said, standing up to fill the space between Jada and the gunmen, putting himself between his goddaughter and death. Then he glanced at Drake. “What’s your play here, Nate?”

“I’m working on it,” Drake replied.

“Are you kidding me?” Jada shouted. “There’s nothing to work on. This son of a bitch murdered my father.”

Henriksen looked affronted. “I did no such thing.”

“Then you paid to have it done,” Sully said.

The gunmen shuffled aside to make room as another figure emerged from the darkness of the left-hand fork. Olivia looked lovely as ever, her hair golden in the electric light. She gazed at Jada with something resembling true sadness.

“He’s telling the truth,” Olivia said.

“Where the hell were you hiding?” Sully asked.

“It’s a little crowded in here,” she said, and then dropped her gaze. “I don’t like any of this. Guns and tight places. This isn’t a life I ever dreamed for myself.”

“You’ve been in on this from the start,” Jada said. “Admit it! You show up at our restaurant in Egypt playing damsel in distress. The grieving widow—”

“I am grieving!” Olivia shouted, tears springing to her eyes. She wiped at them. “I loved your father. He had his suspicions about this research, and he withdrew from the project. He might’ve ruined everything, and I know how it looks. But I can promise you, Tyr had nothing to do with his death and neither did I. Who does that? The way he was—mutilated …”

Her voice trailed off. Her shoulders shook as she tried to contain her grief, and Henriksen put a comforting arm around her.

“You told us you thought Henriksen had killed him,” Sully said.

“I would not do such a thing,” Henriksen said. “And if I had, why would I have done such a grisly job of it and then left him out in public in a way that would cause such an uproar?”

Drake hated to say it, but someone had to. “It’s a fair point.”

Jada looked at him as if he’d betrayed her.

But Sully nodded. “Nate’s right. I’m not convinced Henriksen would’ve let his secret project fall apart, but when you’re trying to keep a lid on things, you don’t draw that kind of attention. Whoever murdered Luka, they were trying to send a message.”

“I think we know the message,” Drake said. “We got it in the parking lot outside the restaurant back in Egypt.”

Jada looked at him, eyes alight with reluctant understanding. “ ‘Go home.’ ”

“In New York, we caught a glimpse of the man who killed Maynard Cheney. The guy who cut the video feed before doing the deed. Did he look like any of these goons to you?” Drake asked.

The goons in question stiffened, some of them intelligent enough to be insulted, but Henriksen gestured for them not to react, watching Jada. Drake studied him, knowing that nobody would have the patience to stand and listen to this if he intended to commit triple homicide.

Jada pointed a shaking finger at her stepmother. “You told us you were afraid of Henriksen! That you thought he’d killed Dad!”

Olivia seemed ashamed, glancing away.

“My suggestion,” Henriksen confessed. “We wanted to know what you know. We wanted Luka’s journal.”

Drake stared at him. He doubted the man had chased them down with murder in mind, but he had a hard time buying the level of innocence Henriksen was attempting to cloak himself in.

“So now what?” he said. “We’re here. You’re here. Maybe the answers you’re looking for are here. Maybe you can figure out the location of the fourth labyrinth—if Daedalus even designed one—and find the treasure you’re after.”

Henriksen frowned. “Treasure?” Then he blinked, smiling, and his eyes lit up. “It would be nice.”

Drake shook his head. Something was off. He just couldn’t put his finger on it.

“Say you find it,” Sully put in. “What happens then? You try to hurt Jada and I will kill you.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Henriksen said. “And you have my word. We have no intention of killing any of you.”

Sully glanced at Drake and Jada. “Strangely, I don’t feel comforted.”

Neither did Drake. There were pieces that didn’t fit. The hooded men might have murdered Luka and Cheney. They might even have set Luka’s apartment on fire. But the van full of guys with guns who tried to kill all three of them at the site of that fire in New York? That wasn’t the spooky ninja dudes’ style—not at all.

Drake glanced at Jada, then at Sully, and he had a feeling they were putting it together as well. Maybe not specifics, but he figured they had their suspicions. None of them was in a frame of mind to join forces with a guy who had sent a hit squad after them, not to mention the thugs who’d tried to abduct Jada in Egypt. All along they had wanted the journal and whatever information Drake and Sully had helped Jada gather. Whether Henriksen had ordered Luka murdered and hacked apart didn’t really matter in the end.

“I’m glad to hear you say that,” Drake told Henriksen. He smiled at Olivia, making sure to put as much of a chill in his expression as possible. “Thing is, we’re not interested in partnering up. We’re doing this for Luka. And whatever we find at the end of the rainbow, it’s not going to end up in your pocket.”

For a long moment, Drake thought Henriksen would change his mind about killing them. The man stiffened, his smile frozen into a mask that barely hid his fury. But then Olivia touched his arm, stroking his bicep before gripping his wrist. The thugs all sensed their boss’s tension, and the promise of violence seemed to wake something in their eyes.

“Tyr,” she said.

Henriksen exhaled. Relaxed. The thugs seemed disappointed.

“If this ends in bloodshed, it won’t be because I didn’t attempt another way,” he said to Jada. Then he focused on Drake and Sully. “You’ve been doing such a good job of making your way through the labyrinth so far,” he said, nodding once at Sully. “Thank you, Mr. Sullivan, for so clearly marking the way with your initials. We might’ve gotten lost if not for you.”

“Bite me,” Sully growled.

Any trace of amusement in Henriksen’s face faded away. “As I said, you’ve done well thus far. I’m inclined to let you continue.”

With the barrel of his gun he gestured them toward the left-hand fork, where the floor sloped steeply away, just as it had on the right. The gunmen moved out of the way to let them by. Olivia studied Jada as if hoping for some kind of acknowledgment, but Jada wouldn’t even look at her.

“Lead on,” Henriksen said.

Grimly, Drake and Sully exchanged a look, both well aware that moving forward was their only choice and only hope. Sully shone his flashlight down into the sharply sloped tunnel, and they began to descend.

A gunshot split the air like the crack of a bullwhip. Drake turned in a crouch and drew his gun, pushing in front of Jada and Sully. Shouts came from the split in the corridor behind them. Flashlight beams crisscrossed, blinding him for a moment, throwing shadows that separated a moment later to reveal a scuffle that sent echoes bouncing off the walls.

He saw Henriksen struggling with a black-clad hooded figure. The big blond man slammed the hooded killer against the wall and tore a long curved blade from his hands. A flashlight beam illuminated Henriksen’s back, and Drake saw the blood spreading from a knife wound there. Now the big man returned the favor, driving the blade into the hooded man’s gut.

“I wondered when those sons of bitches would show up,” Sully rumbled. He gripped his pistol and moved to pass Drake, headed toward the fighting.

“No, don’t,” Jada said, grabbing his arm. “This is our chance.”

“Chance for what?” Sully said. “To see who wins the right to kill us?”

More gunshots rang out. Men shouted in pain and grunted with the effort of their struggle. One of the Greeks lay on the floor of the corridor, throat cut, bleeding out onto the stone. Drake tried to make out how many of the hooded men were there and wondered if Henriksen had any other thugs waiting outside. Had the hooded men followed them as well, or had they already known the labyrinth was here?

“No!” Olivia screamed.

For a second, they could hear only her voice. Then she appeared ahead, framed in the mouth of the tunnel, running toward them down the steep slope with a flashlight in her hand. The light blinded Drake for a second, but when he blinked and his vision returned, he saw one of the hooded men rushing after her.

Drake raised his gun, aiming right for the tip of Olivia’s nose. “Down!”

She saw the gun, glimpsed his determination, and dropped to the ground just as he fired. The bullet took the hooded man in the chest, stopping him cold. He fell across her legs, both of them skidding down the steep tunnel floor, and Olivia screamed again as she extricated herself from the dead man’s burdensome weight.

“Who the hell are these guys?” Sully growled, shaking free of Jada.

He climbed the sharp incline and knelt to tear the hood away from the corpse, shining his light on the face he had revealed. The dead man’s eyes were already glazed and empty, staring forever into the void. His features were distinctively Asian, his eyes dark and almond-shaped. Whoever he was, he wasn’t Greek and he wasn’t Egyptian. Chinese or Tibetan, Drake thought.

“Thank you,” Olivia said, grabbing hold of Sully and rising shakily.

The fighting went on back in the corridor before the fork. Another gunshot boomed and the scuffling and cursing and grunting continued, but with the flashlight beams darting around, it was impossible to make out much detail. Shapes and shadows fought, and the copper stink of blood filled the air, along with the acrid odor of cordite from the guns.

Olivia grabbed Jada by the arms, unmindful of the gun in the younger woman’s hand.

“Do something,” she said, her pristine beauty tarnished by desperation. “If they kill Tyr and his men, we’re next!”

Jada shoved her with such force that Olivia slammed into the wall, skull thunking against stone.

“There’s no ‘we,’ Olivia,” Jada snapped. “You and me—there’s no we.”

Drake didn’t take the time to tell Jada that Olivia had a point, and he suspected she wouldn’t have listened if he had. But there was no doubt that they were in trouble. If Henriksen survived, he might stab them in the back at some point, but if the choice was that or death for him and his friends in the next ninety seconds or so, he’d take a knife in the back somewhere down the line.

“Sully,” Drake said.

“Yeah.”

They started past the dead man, bent low to keep from toppling backward, and climbed back toward the split in the corridor. Drake caught a glimpse of the man he’d thought of as Buzzcut staggering past the doorway ahead, the hilt of a blade jutting from his back. One of the hooded men followed, intent on finishing the job he’d begun.

“Hey!” Sully shouted.

The killer turned.

“This is for Luka,” Sully said, and shot the hooded man three times.

“Overkill, maybe?” Drake suggested. “We don’t know how many bullets we’re going to need.”

They reached the door, sliding their backs along the walls opposite each other, guns raised. Drake studied Sully’s face, wondering how many times the two of them had been stuck like this, trapped somewhere they might be imprisoned just for entering, with merciless killers between them and the exit. But he didn’t bother to count. Once was once too often.

“On three,” Drake said. “One. Two—”

Olivia screamed again, even more frantic than before.

Drake and Sully turned to see Olivia scrambling up the sheer stone, climbing over the dead man, eyes wide with terror. Jada had her back to them, her flashlight aimed farther down the severe drop-off of the tunnel. More hooded men were coming up from deeper within the labyrinth, scrabbling up the stone slope like spiders.

“Damn it!” Sully shouted.

Jada shot one of them, tried to turn and flee up the steep incline, but slipped and fell onto her side on the stone floor of the corridor. The hooded men swept toward her. In the glow of Sully’s flashlight, Drake made out four of them, not counting the one Jada had just shot. They had swarmed over their wounded comrade as if he weren’t there.

“I thought they followed us in, like Henriksen,” Drake said.

“They flanked us,” Sully muttered.

Drake had wondered before if the hooded men knew about this labyrinth, if they were as knowledgeable about its secrets and hidden chambers as they had been about the one in Egypt, and now he had his answer.

Olivia kept screaming, and Drake wished she would shut up. He took aim and was about to pull the trigger, but then Sully blocked his shot. Drake shouted at him to get out of the way, but with Jada in danger, Sully wasn’t going to be able to be reasoned with. Drake realized he didn’t want to risk trying to shoot the killers unless he was right up close.

With a roar that managed to be warning and battle cry and profanity all in one, Sully hurtled down the sheer slope with his gun and flashlight both held out in front of him. One of the hooded men reached Jada, grabbed her leg, and brandished the curved blade they all seemed to carry. Sully shot him in the head, but Drake knew the shot was pure luck. At that angle and speed, careening out of control, Sully’s next move was no longer his choice to make.

“Sully, no!” Drake shouted.

The words echoed off the walls as Sully lost his footing, moving too fast, yet managed to lunge at the three remaining killers, passing right over Jada. He crashed into them, knocking two of them backward, and they all fell sprawling and rolling down the tunnel into the darkness, Sully’s flashlight shattering and winking out.

The scuffling from that darkness chilled Drake’s blood.

“Son of a—” he began.

Jada cried out for her godfather. Drake slid and skidded down the tunnel toward her, stepping over the man he’d shot and calling out for Sully, hearing only the whisper of movement below. Jada stood, recovering her flashlight and shining it down into the dark, and they both saw the figures twisted around one another. The three hooded men struggled with Sully, one of them clamping a hand over his mouth. His eyes were wide and gleaming in the beam from Jada’s light, and Drake wanted to look away, sure that any second a curved blade would slice Sully’s throat.

“Down here!” Olivia shouted behind them. “There are more of them down here!”

“Drake!” a low voice called.

He didn’t turn. The voice belonged to Henriksen, and he put together what it meant. The man was wounded but alive, and if he and Olivia and others—given the footfalls Drake could hear—were starting down the sloped fork, it meant they had won back there at the split in the corridor.

“Let him go!” Drake roared at the hooded men.

They did not, but neither did they cut Sully’s throat. Instead, they dragged him deeper into the tunnel, scrambling back into the darkness.

“Crap!” Drake barked. It was just like Welch. They had lost the fight and were retreating, but they were taking Sully with them.

Drake spun as Henriksen came down the slope toward him. The wounded man had lost his gun but still held a flashlight.

“Give me that,” Drake demanded.

“He’s as good as dead,” Henriksen snapped.

“No,” Jada said. “They took him! They didn’t kill him!”

Drake snatched the light from Henriksen. “I’m going after him.”

He started down into the forgotten heart of the labyrinth, and when he sensed Jada behind him, heard her footsteps, and saw her flashlight beam merging with his to illuminate the darkness below, he didn’t argue. With her father dead, Sully was the closest thing either one of them had to a father. They would save him together or not at all.