W HEN THE REST OF THE GROUP HEN THE REST OF THE GROUP caught up with Annja there was more than one gasp of surprise at the sight of the doors ahead of her. caught up with Annja there was more than one gasp of surprise at the sight of the doors ahead of her.

"What now?" Mason asked, eyeing the closed doors as if all the demons from h.e.l.l lurked behind them.

Maybe he dislikes being underground as much as he dislikes heights, Annja thought.

"I say we go in and have a look around," she replied, not giving voice to her musings. Teasing him about his fear of heights was enough for one day, she decided.

"And how do you expect to do that?" Mason asked. "Last time I looked our gear list didn't include any C-4 explosives."

Annja didn't reply, just reached out with one hand and gave a gentle push.

The door on the right swung open without a sound.

"How the h.e.l.l?" Mason said, then shook his head at his own lack of insight.

One set of footsteps led up to the doors. One set of footsteps led away. Obviously, it hadn't taken more than a single individual to open the doors previously, so it stood to reason that they could do it, too.

Torch in hand, Annja stepped inside.

34.

The tunnel continued on the other side for a short distance and then opened up into a wide chamber hewn from the living rock.

Stunned at what she was seeing, Annja slowly moved into the s.p.a.ce.

Every square inch of the walls had been covered with painted images of Mongol life in bright, vibrant colors. Most, if not all of them, focused on a dark-haired boy and showed him in various scenes of everyday life. He could be seen milking goats in the early morning sunlight. He was helping herd the flocks on the wide steppes. He was fishing in the dark waters of a broad lake, and he was learning to ride one of the short, stout horses the Mongols used for warfare.

She moved around the room, taking it all in, as the others followed behind her. From the similarities in the paintings it seemed they had all been done by the same hand. She didn't want to think of the time and energy involved in creating such a huge and moving masterpiece.

Davenport's awed voice drifted across the room. "The figure in these paintings? Is it who I think it is?"

Annja nodded. "If I had to guess, I'd say yes. We're most likely looking at scenes from the early life of Temujin, the child who would grow up to become Genghis Khan."

The paintings alone were an incredible find. There were no written records of the Khan's life that could be traced to being contemporaneous to his lifetime. The only surviving account in existence, a text known as The Secret History of the Mongols The Secret History of the Mongols, was written by an anonymous author on behalf of the royal family sometime after his death. It was likely full of as much myth as it was fact. But these-if they proved to be authentic-would be of incalculable value in understanding the early life of one of history's most enigmatic figures. The archaeologist in Annja was nearly breathless with discovery.

"Hey! There's a door here," Vale said from across the room and suddenly everyone was rushing to his side, including Annja.

He was right. A particularly bright painting of the young Mongol warrior learning to fire his bow concealed a door set into the rear of the chamber. It was much smaller and far less grandiose than the doors they'd just pa.s.sed through, but it appeared to be the only way out of the chamber.

It opened easily at their touch, revealing another pa.s.sageway like the one through which they had first entered. Leaving the painted chamber behind, they headed off down the tunnel.

The tunnel was wide enough to allow them to walk two abreast and Annja had Mason join her up front, he on the right and she on the left. She was surprised by the quality of the air as they moved deeper into the tunnel. She'd been expecting it to be dusty and stagnant, and yet it was almost the exact opposite, crisp and cool. There must be another opening at the other end, she thought, allowing the air to move about.

She was about to mention her thought to Mason when the ground beneath her feet suddenly gave way and she dropped like a stone.

Annja let go of her torch and instinctively lunged forward as she fell. Her fingers. .h.i.t and then caught the edge of the floor on the far side of the trap. Her body slammed chest first into the wall and for a moment she thought the motion would jar her fingers loose from their precarious perch, but she managed to hang on.

When the sound of crumbling rock and earth quieted, she could hear Davenport and the others calling through the cloud of dust that had been kicked up by the collapse of the floor.

"Here!" she called, coughing a bit until the air settled again.

"Whatever you do, don't let go. And don't look down." Mason's voice was very close.

And full of fear.

She turned her head slightly and saw a gaping hole where the floor used to be. Mason was nearby, balanced on a small ledge against the left-hand side of the corridor. He stood on his toes, the ledge beneath his feet no more than an inch or so in width, with his body flattened against the wall for balance and his arms outstretched on either side.

Of course, telling her not to look down resulted in her doing just that, her curiosity getting the better of her. A gaping chasm dropped away into the darkness beneath her feet. The bottom was too far away to be seen, if there was one at all.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid!" she muttered to herself. She'd been so caught up in what they were uncovering that she'd let down her guard. She should have realized that the tomb would be rigged; she was only surprised that they'd made it as far as they had without any problems.

She shifted her position slightly, getting her feet in contact with the wall in front of her and using her toes as leverage wherever she could find purchase against the rock. She pushed and hauled herself free one inch at a time.

Once she had pulled herself out, she caught her breath and waved to the others across the gap. "I'm fine," she called out, before turning her attention to Mason.

He was standing on that tiny ledge, less than three feet from the other side. If he jumped, he was almost certain to make it. With Annja there to catch him, he should have no trouble at all.

As she watched, the muscles in his left leg began to shake. He couldn't hold his position for much longer.

She explained her plan to him.

"You've got to get off that ledge while you still have the strength to do so. Just push off the wall in this direction. It's not far. Less than three feet or so. I should be able to grab you easily."

"No."

His voice was flat, a sure sign that fear had taken control.

"Come on, Mason. All you have to do is fall sideways."

"I said no."

Perhaps it was her use of the word fall. fall. She wasn't sure. But Mason's sudden attempt to push his body through the wall he was leaning against let her know she wasn't helping the situation much. She wasn't sure. But Mason's sudden attempt to push his body through the wall he was leaning against let her know she wasn't helping the situation much.

She tried a different tack.

"What are you going to do? Stay there all afternoon?"

"Yep."

But the ledge where he was standing had different ideas. The small lip of stone where his left foot rested suddenly gave way, dropping into the gulf below him.

"Mason!"

Annja's shout echoed off the stone around them but Mason wasn't listening. He was too busy working to find purchase for his foot to avoid falling into the gaping chasm himself.

After a second of scrambling that felt like a lifetime, he managed to get his foot back on solid ground.