~ Keeper Of The Singing Bones ~

by

Marilyn Gardiner

Neither of them moved. Juliet thought she might have stopped breathing. She was lying spread-eagled atop Mac with her nose buried in his ear. The dark pressed in from all sides and the silence seemed to grow with each passing second. Even the gentle breath of wind that occasionally wafted through the cave had stopped.

Finally she moved ever so slightly. "Mac?"

"Yeah. You okay?" They were whispering.

"Ye-es." Her voice threatened to dry up entirely. "What… What was that?"

"How the hell should I know? Where’s your light?"

"I dropped it. Where’s yours?"

"Digging into my stomach. Roll to your left. Gently, gently! We don’t want to lose it, too. Ah, blessed illumination." And there was indeed light.

Her flash lay three feet away, but she was loath to move far enough to get it. Her eyes went first to the statue. She wondered later what she expected to see. Blazing eyes, maybe? A darkened face? Death and destruction? But there was nothing. The lady stood as before, unseeing and unmoving, facing the passageway to the mouth of the cave.

Still on his back Mac slowly rotated his light around the statue. She stood as before, solid and unmoving. The light wavered and swung up toward the ceiling. Juliet drew in her breath sharply and froze. After a moment of stunned, ear-splitting silence Mac said, "I’ll be damned. Shields."

The entire roof of the room was covered with dozens of hanging flat slabs, multicolored and radiant after the darkness, all appearing to be suspended in midair.

"What are they? Will they fall?" Juliet breathed.

"Not unless there’s a loud noise, or an earthquake, or it’s simply time for one of the stems to give way."