Prophecy by James Axler Page B

worked into an enlarged space by people working with primitive tools. There were paintings on the cave walls that were as faded as the lighting, though whether they had been daubed thousands, hundreds, or mere years ago was indeterminate.
    The cave receded into the distance, curving away from the straight tunnel so that it became impossible to see where it ended. Responding to a gesture from one of the warriors, Ryan brought the wag to a halt and switched off the engine. As they got out of the vehicle, the warrior said, “Leave it here, now. We’ll make sure it’s secured and hidden from prying eyes. You follow him,” he added, indicating a man who had appeared at the farthest bend of the tunnel. “We have to clear any signs of our passage before we can join the tribe.”
    â€œWhy clear away tracks?” Ryan asked. “Do you fear intruders?”
    â€œFew come this way. Why should they? There’s nothing to bring them, and few know that we are here. But if anyone should stray this far from usual white-eye routes, we wouldn’t wish for them to disturb us.” There was an edge to the way that he said that, leaving Ryan in no doubt as to what disturbance would mean for any unwitting intruder. “And if we make sure we leave no traces, then there is little chance that they may stumble upon us.” He dismissed them with a gesture and turned to join his colleagues.
    Ryan and Krysty turned to face the man who was still waiting for them. His stance and expression gave nothing away, and he waited in silence as they walked toward him, speaking only when they were almost upon him.
    â€œWelcome, outlanders. Few white-eyes see our domain. Fewer have the opportunity to go in peace and tell. The prophecy foretells of your coming. I pray for your sakes that you are not a false dawning.”
    Without giving either of them the opportunity to comment, he turned and walked on ahead of them.
    As they followed, they could see that the walls of the tunnel formed in the rock were covered in hieroglyph paintings that seemed to detail the history of the people who dwelt within the cave system—for neither of them had any doubt that this was more than just a simple hole in the rock—with paintings depicting scenes of skydark and the long winter that followed in its wake being followed by scenes in which the decorated people of the tribe emerged from hiding and rebuilt their homes in this place. There were also images of hunts, and scenes that appeared to depict rites that the men of the tribe went through to achieve the status that was the coming of age. These confirmed Krysty’s earlier thoughts about the tattooing and scarification of the warriors who had found them.
    As they moved along the dimly lit tunnels, they became aware that they were moving on an incline. As they went deeper into the heart of the mountain, they were also moving upward.
    Along the way, there were other tunnels branching off this main route. All the passages were lit by tallow candles that burned slowly, smoke rising from them inwhorls that moved with such a slowness as to seem static. It occurred to both of them that the tunnel system should soon be filled with such smoke, choking anyone within. It was only on closer inspection that they could see that the candles were mounted near small fissures and cracks that attracted the slow-moving plumes. The mountain and cave system seemed to come equipped with its own natural ventilation system that had been put to good use by the tribe that made it their home.
    Down the passages they could hear voices, and the sounds of movement and life. Bowls and pans clashed, the smells of freshly cooked food wafted down before joining the smoke plumes in being slowly sucked out to the skies above.
    â€œYou cut these out yourselves?” Ryan asked. He didn’t expect an answer, as their guide had so far been silent. So he was surprised when his query did elicit a response,