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

waited. As did the two remaining ministers, each waiting for instructions.
    But Demir offered nothing but a vacant stare.
    Then in Turkish, and said in such a way that the commando sounded apologetic for disturbing Demir’s moment of meditation, softly asked, “ Mulazim awwal Demir, what now?”
    Demir’s eyes shifted and settled on the commando with a mechanical stare. And then he offered a false smile. “We move on,” he told him. When he got to his feet he looked down at Alyssa, who stopped sobbing but appeared like someone who had surrendered all hope to Mintaka’s fate. “Ms. Moore.”
    She closed her eyes.
    “Ms. Moore.”
    “I heard you,” she said. She then forced herself into a sitting position; her cheeks stained with tears, and swept an arm across her face, wiping it dry. “I heard you,” she repeated drearily.
    “Ms. Moore, we need to move on . . . if possible.” He then placed the flat of his palm against a wall where there were no riddles etched upon its side that would at least allow them the opportunity to move on. Just a barrier that was as cold to the touch as the surface of ice. Then: “Ms. Moore, please.”
    She looked at Demir, their eyes meeting for a long and quiet moment.
    “We need to move on,” he repeated unemotionally. “But there doesn’t seem to be a way.”
    “There’s a way,” she said. “There’s always a way. These temples never paint you into a corner. They’ll drive you forward in sinisterly fashion—always marching you until no one is left, always offering a sliver of hope when there really isn’t any. But in the end, if you’re lucky enough, it will show you its secrets. And once you see them, and if you’re luckier still, it’ll show you the way out.” She sighed. Then: “Like John always said, there’s a solution to everything.” She moved to the wall and placed her palms against them. Like John always said , she reminisced as she could hear the echo of his voice traipsing through her mind, there’s a solution to everything.
    Oh, John.
    And at that moment she wanted to weep.
     
     

 
     
     
    CHAPTER TWENTY
     
    They had been rerouted. The scarabs driven to every nook and cranny Mintaka offered, working avenues that guided them toward their prey, hungering. The temple shift was a temporary setback, the reconfiguration providing minimal obstacles.
    The beetles had climbed and ambled through cracks and fissures that were created in the black silica walls when the pressures of the weights and balances proved too great for the aged fortifications to handle, the structure giving at points that had grown feeble over time.
    Their olfactory senses told them that the scent of their prey was nearing. They could detect the ooze and sweat from their pores as signs of fear and could feel their weakening repose as they stood on a landing less than forty feet from their position.
    The scarabs pressed forward as Mintaka offered them a bounty.
     
     

 
     
     
    CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
     
    The wall held steadfast.
    “There are no riddles,” offered Demir. “Just a wall.” He then looked over his shoulder to the funnel-shaped room below and to the abyss. Then he turned back to Alyssa. “Surely it is as you say, that the temple would not paint us into a corner—whatever that means.”
    “It means that Mintaka, like the temple of Eden, would not push us into a situation where there was no way out.” She shined her light upward, hoping that there was a landing above the wall. But there was nothing. It was just as Demir stated—it was just a wall.
    This didn’t make any sense to Alyssa. Mintaka was purposely driving them toward the Chamber of the One. For those who survived , they would eventually look upon the face of God. And for those who didn’t would fall short after failing to meet the challenge of the riddles. But there were no riddles, no etchings, no script or cuneiform of any type—there was just a landing that overlooked the abyss, its surfaces as