CHAPTER 16

The Forest of the Gods—October 16th, 1965

Indy slashed the Sword of Irkalla at tangled branches as the trio inched their way through this primeval wilderness. The knotted cedar trunks wended this way and that, meandering at a pace only the gods could keep track of. The gloom of the understory—broken here and there by sideways shafts of golden light from the setting sun—was alive with the otherworldly chatter of insects and animals. A cacophony that spoke of an ancient time. A time before man. A time before knowledge.

Indy walked ahead, cutting a path for this unlikely expedition. Mutt and Talia lagged behind a little. Mutt's tattered shirt got snagged on a claw of thorns; he reached to pull it free and the spikes pierced his palm.

"Jesus!"

Talia threw him a look, and Mutt remembered her take on blasphemy. He sucked at the bloody pinpricks on his hand then turned to Talia.

"You know, you handled yourself pretty well back there."

Talia rolled her eyes. "Thanks!" Which Mutt accurately interpreted as 'You condescending jerk!'

"I'm just saying, the way you dealt with that son-of-a-bitch. It was pretty bad-ass," he continued. "I mean, what do you think they'd say about that at church?"

Talia smiled, to be fair, that was a good question. "Be peaceful, respect everyone. But if someone lays a hand on you, send him to the cemetery."

Mutt laughed. "Nice."

"I can't take credit for that one, Malcolm X said it first."

"Yeah, well, I've never seen him take out a machine gun wielding Nazi."

Talia shrugged. "He got what was coming."

"I didn't know you could do kickboxing. Or ride a horse, come to that."

Talia met Mutt's eyes. "There's plenty you'd have found out, if you'd just stuck around a little longer."

The silence hung for a few seconds, a moment filled with possibility. Then Indy called back.

"Dr. Wells, you might want to take a look at this."

The moment evaporated. Talia and Mutt pushed their way through the dense foliage and stood alongside Indy.

A small clearing, and rising up from the web of vines and bracken, a towering man glared down at them. The broad shouldered stone statue stood at least ten feet tall. The dying sunlight struck the giant, dramatically illuminating his stern, bulging eyes and long braided beard. Around his neck a pendant was carved; a circle in the centre of a four pointed star radiating sunbeams. Indy looked to the Sword of Irkalla, its deep blue lapis lazuli handle bore the same symbol.

"It's the Sumerian symbol of the sun," Indy said.

Talia nodded. "Shamash, the sun god. It means we're heading in the right direction."

Talia took a step toward the statue, his stare remained fixed upon her, no matter where she stood. The god's arms were outstretched, in a gesture of offering, yet his palms were empty. Talia turned to Indy.

"Can I have the sword?"

"Sure." Indy passed the blade to Talia. She'd handled the weapon a number of times and had almost gotten used to its electrifying chill, if not its ethereal beauty. Talia reached up and placed the sword in Shamash's hands; the handle slid snugly into the contours of the statue's right palm and the blade rested delicately on his left.

"It fits perfectly"

Talia gasped as a golden light shimmered across Shamash's eyes; so subtle was the gleam, that the other two didn't notice.

"What's wrong?" Mutt stepped forward protectively.

But a heartbeat later and the golden glow had vanished.

"Nothing, just a trick of the light."

Talia delicately reclaimed the sword from the statue.

"Could this be where Gilgamesh received the sword?" she gushed, and turned to Indy.

"It's possible," Indy shrugged, trying to act cool while fighting the feeling, gnawing at his gut, that they were heading into something they didn't—and perhaps couldn't—understand. He looked to the west, as the last dim strands of sunlight retreated from the forest.

"It's getting dark. We should camp here tonight."

The campfire crackled. Talia warmed herself by the dancing flames and brushed her damp hair. She'd found a nearby stream to bathe in, it'd been the first time she'd washed in days. She felt revitalised, and being alone had given her time to reflect on the craziness of the past couple of weeks. Talia's world had been upturned, she'd felt anger and fear in equal measure, and rediscovered the depth of her resilience; a strength that had been tested continually throughout her life, but not truly exploited since those fateful two weeks of her childhood. And now, as they neared the final stage of their quest, Talia tried to stop herself from dreaming, tried to channel some of Jones' scepticism. But if her instincts were right, then they were on the verge of the greatest discovery in the history of mankind. The Palace of Ganzir, gateway to Irkalla—a bridge linking this world and the next. She idly twirled her crucifix pendant and thought of her dad. He was with her, always, of that she was certain. But even so, as they approached Irkalla, Talia felt his presence more strongly, it was as if she was coming home.

Mutt returned with an armful of firewood which he dropped beside the campfire. He glanced around.

"Where is he?"

"I think he wanted some time alone," Talia said.

Mutt sighed as he sat beside Talia. Sounds about right, he thought. Anything to avoid spending time with other people. Anything to avoid spending time with his son.

"You should cut him some slack," Talia said. "He's a good guy."

Mutt shook his head. "You don't know him."

"I know that he's lost without your mom," she went on, "and I know that he would've done anything to make sure you were safe."

Mutt looked to Talia. "God, that's right, I forgot! You have to see the good in absolutely everybody."

Talia smiled. "Not everybody. I figured out pretty quickly that you were a major pain in the ass."

Mutt smiled too and nodded, he walked into that one. "So what's been going on with you? I hear you're making waves, moving up in the world."

Talia shrugged. "I finally got to make some first translations out in the field. We really hit the jackpot with a site just outside of Mosul, a temple library of some kind; the texts we uncovered have really accelerated our understanding of early Sumerian religion and philosophy."

"That's really great." Despite how things had ended between them, Mutt was heartened to know that all Talia's hard work had started to pay off. In the month or so they'd been together, Mutt had seen first hand how devoted she was to her work. Doubtless she was more dedicated and more talented than most, if not all, of her contemporaries. She'd had to be. And she'd had to shout a hell of a lot louder to be heard. "I'm glad it's all coming together for you."

"Yeah... well, that was before my boss turned out to be a Nazi megalomaniac, intent on raising an army of the dead!"

"Yeah," Mutt said "But you got the sword back. You stopped the bastard. That's gonna count for something. And, well, who knows what we're gonna find when we get to this palace." Mutt gently took Talia's hand. "I've got a feeling the whole world is finally gonna see just how brilliant Doctor Talia Wells really is."

Talia looked to Mutt's hand, his fingers softly caressing hers.

Mutt continued. "Something I figured out waaay too late."

Her eyes met his, and Talia smiled.

"You think you're pretty smooth, don't you?"

"I have my moments." He leaned in close. They kissed.

As Indy climbed up the rock formation, the muscles in his arms, legs—and just about everywhere else—ached like hell. He'd taken a serious beating from Cavendish's thugs, and his body wasn't as quick to recover as it used to be. He finally emerged above the forest canopy and sat comfortably in a snug alcove in the rock. He could see the smoke and the faint glow of their campfire a few hundred yards to the west. The black outline of Mount Dena now loomed large to the east. They would complete their journey tomorrow, then they'd finally get to see if this Gilgamesh legend held any water. Indy had seen plenty in his three score years on this planet. He'd learnt not to rule out the seemingly impossible, but still couldn't shake his drive to uncover a scientific explanation for phenomena, even if that explanation went against the evidence of his own eyes. Everyone, himself included, only got to witness the universe from a singular perspective, and sometimes that perspective could be misleading. But if Wells was right, if Irkalla was real—and its gateway traversable—well, then all bets were off.

The mountain was silhouetted against the breathtaking beauty of the Milky Way. He couldn't remember seeing a clearer night's sky. Well, perhaps there was just one other night, a lifetime ago, when the stars sparkled as spectacularly; Marion held tightly in his arms as they drifted along the Euphrates. As tears gathered in his eyes, Indy felt the faintest smile cross his lips. For the first time in weeks his mind wasn't consumed with fury and hatred. The love in his heart was a comfort, not a dagger. He didn't know how long this feeling would last, but he was thankful it had visited him in this moment.

Indy leant back and looked up to the infinity above him. His eyes rested on Taurus, the Bull of Heaven, which carried him peacefully off to sleep.

Indy awoke from a dreamless sleep to the glare of the rising sun; with squinting eyes he looked to the light, which sliced through a slender gully between Dena's peaks. Their path illuminated. Perhaps Shamash really was showing them the way.

Indy returned to the camp to find Mutt holding Talia close, the pair snuggled beside smouldering ashes. Indy allowed himself a smile, before nudging his son with his foot.

"C'mon Romeo, it's time we got moving."

Through binoculars, he watched as Jones, Wells and her new lover retreated from the clearing into the thick shadow of the forest.

Stood atop an escarpment at the forest edge, Cavendish lowered the binoculars and passed them to Karl, one of two CEDADE soldiers who were the professor's only surviving companions.

"Shall we kill them now?" Karl asked.

Cavendish shook his head. "Patience, Corporal, patience."

The professor's clothes were filthy and torn. He pulled his handkerchief from a trouser pocket and wiped the sweat from his forehead. Then he dabbed the cloth at the bloody gash on his cheek, a wound that would leave a scar not dissimilar to the one inflicted upon his father during the Greenland expedition.

"If not now, then when?" Karl was growing restless. "They must pay for what they did! For the good men they murdered!"

"And they will pay, I assure you, Corporal." Cavendish fished out the Viking amulet which hung from his neck. Its multicoloured jewels glittered in the morning sunlight. He thought of his father, how he'd suffered at the hands of that ruthless American when seeking this prize. Cavendish must succeed. For the glory of his father. For the glory of Germany.

He turned to face Karl. "As my father once said, you do not slaughter the pig before it has led you to the truffles." He patted Karl on the shoulder. "Let Jones take us to our prize. Then we shall have our vengeance."