The Crystal Warriors Read Online Free PDF

of us for a day and a half."
    "Yes."
    "Good, then it is settled."
    "I guess so."
    * * * *
    A few moments later, Ikawa saw Kochanski come out from the back of the chamber. He stopped for a moment in the middle of the floor and scuffed at the dust with his feet. After a quick examination he backed away from the middle of the room and came up to where Ikawa and Mark were standing together.
    "No way out, but there's a spring in the back of the temple―all the water we need. This place is weird," Kochanski continued. "It looks like it hasn't been touched in centuries, yet the building seems well maintained. There're even those fresh torches. It's obviously a temple, but for what? Just look at the carvings!"
    Ikawa looked to where Kochanski was pointing. Tortuous carvings of interlocking dragons and demons covered the wall.
    "And there's a pentagram inlaid into the floor. Strange, I thought the pentagram was a western symbol of the occult."
    Kochanski walked back to the center of the room and several of the men followed him. With his foot he brushed aside the dust and pointed out the design. Kraut came over and examined the inlaid work, then went over to the altar that dominated one side of the temple.
    "Holy Christ, this altar has bloodstains all over it!"
    Kraut's words sent a faint prickling up the back of Ikawa's neck. It was as if a hidden door was slowly opening to reveal a coiling, insidious terror from beyond.
    "Something moving outside," Walker said, still guarding the window slit with Smithie, the waist gunner, at his side.
    "Open up on it," Mark told him.
    Walker squeezed off a short burst. There was a sharp cry, then a rising babble of voices.
    Mark and Ikawa went to the nearest slit and looked out. In the shadows of the pathway something large was moving.
    "Goldberg, get me the flare pistol."
    Goldberg loaded a charge in and tossed it over to Mark. He aimed it through the slit and fired. The round slammed down the narrow path, exploding with a brilliant flash.
    "My God, they brought up the 37mm!" Mark exclaimed. "How the hell did they do that?"
    In the white magnesium light Ikawa could see the cannon positioned in the pathway, its front armor skirting protecting the crew which was feverishly at work.
    The Japanese machine gun opened up again, bullets bouncing off the gun's armor.
    "The bastards must have manhandled it all the way up the trail," Giorgroi cried. "We're trapped!"
    "All right, everybody get ready. They'll blow the door. Once that's gone, they'll charge."
    Even as Mark barked the commands, the cannon spat a thundering flash.
    The doorway exploded.
    "Hold your fire," Ikawa yelled. "Wait for the rush!"
    Another round barked out, and then another. Over the ringing in their ears from the explosion came a roar as the Chinese, screaming with fury, braced themselves for the attack.
    Ikawa came over to Mark's side. In spite of his fear of approaching death, there was a terror that was far worse, and growing stronger with each passing second. It was like an electric charge running through his body, triggering some primordial dread. Something was horribly wrong with this room.
    "I'm getting out of here!" Ikawa shouted above the roar of battle.
    "You're crazy!" Mark cried. "You'll get cut down the moment you step out the door."
    "I don't care. It's worse in here. There's an evil here―it's a nightmare." His words were edged with hysteria.
    Another shot barked out and the remains of the door crashed in with a thundering boom.
    The bugles brayed triumphantly. The Chinese were preparing to charge. But Ikawa and the others did not hear them. A louder, howling roar suddenly drowned out all other sound, all other thoughts, all sense of place and time―and the room was suffused with a white, pulsing glow.
    Ikawa drew his sword, and with a cry, rushed for the door.
    Kochanski was in front of him looking back towards the altar and pentagram, his mouth wide open, screaming, his eyes wild with terror. So riveted was that gaze