Deep Fathom

“Impressive.” Jack dug in his paddle and turned the canoe away from the castle as Mwahu led them to a more open section of the city. They floated over coral reefs rich with anemones and colorful fish.

From here the imposing sea wall of basalt pillars and slabs came into view. Taller monoliths dotted its lengths, silent stone sentinels staring out to sea. Periodically, narrow spaces opened: gates to the ocean beyond.

After a few minutes of gliding along the walls, they cut back into the maze of islets. Soon Karen found herself drifting down a narrow canal, the walls festooned with tiny pink and blue blossoms, scented not unlike honeysuckles. She inhaled deeply.

A slap drew her attention around. “Bees,” Jack warned.

Karen smiled. “Leave them alone and they’ll leave you alone.” She felt something crawling on her arm and jumped — then realized it was Jack tickling her with a long blade of dry grass. “Fu

He tossed the blade away with a look of total i

Karen faced forward, paddle across her knees. At least Jack seemed to be coming out of his funk.

Behind her, he spoke up, more serious. “Do you have any idea where this guy is taking us?”

She fished out her map and spread it on her lap. She eyed the islets around her, then bent over the map. “Hmm…”

“What?”

“I can guess where he’s leading us. There’s a sacred place near here.” She looked up as they rounded a tall promontory.

Ahead appeared a huge island, even larger than Nan Dowas. But instead of a single castle, the artificial island held a sprawling complex of buildings and crumbled walls.

Mwahu aimed his canoe toward its shore.

“Pahn Kadira,” Karen said, naming the place. “The ‘Forbidden City’ of Nan Madol.”

Mwahu glided into the island’s shadow and beached at a low spot. He waved them over.

“Why forbidden?” Jack asked.

“No one can say. It’s a term passed from generation to generation.”

Jack guided them toward the bank, pulling alongside the other canoe. “It seems we’re about to find out.”

Jack held the boat steady while Karen climbed ashore. As she joined Miyuki and Mwahu, Jack roped the canoes to the bole of a lone mangrove.

“This way,” Mwahu said softly. His gaze flickered across the deep shadows as he led them along a thin trail through a dense accumulation of ferns to an arched entry.

Beyond the gate, a wide stone plaza opened. Grasses and flowers sprouted between the cracks. To the left, the remains of an ancient fortification lay toppled. To the right stood low-roofed buildings with narrow doorways and small windows. Ahead, splitting the plaza in half, was a thin carved cha

“It is so hot,” Miyuki said. She wiped her face with a handkerchief, then pulled out a small umbrella. Pohnpei was known for its frequent showers, but today the sky had remained cloudless. Miyuki opened her umbrella and sheltered in its shadow.

As a group, they crossed the long plaza.

Karen would have liked to explore the surrounding sites, but Mwahu continued on single-mindedly, looking neither right nor left. He led them across the bridge and toward a tall building on the far side. It rose ninety feet above the plaza, with two low wings sprouting off from the central keep.

Karen stepped up next to Mwahu. “Is this the tomb of Horon-ko?”

Mwahu did not answer. He made a vague motion to remain silent. Reaching the wide entrance to the central keep, he paused and bowed his head, his lips moving silently.

Karen and the others waited.

Finished with his prayer, Mwahu took a deep breath and led them inside, with Karen right behind him.

The entrance hall was dark and refreshingly cool. As Karen entered she was struck by how clean the air smelled. No mustiness, just a hint of salt and dampness. The short passage led into a cavernous chamber. Their footsteps on the stone floor echoed off the heights. She fumbled through her pack and removed a penlight. The thin beam pierced the darkness, splashing across the featureless walls and roof.

Basalt and more basalt. No crystals, no indication of any writing.

Mwahu frowned hard at her, then continued to lead them on.

Jack whistled. “This place is massive. You described it, but to see this construction firsthand…It must’ve taken thousands and thousands of people to build this single building, even aided by a pair of the magical brothers.”

Too awed to speak herself, Karen nodded.

They left the huge hall and entered another low passage. The press of stone overhead seemed to weigh down upon Karen’s head. She wasn’t prone to claustrophobia, but there was a certain heaviness about the place that couldn’t be ignored. The passage turned sharply and sunlight flared ahead.

Mwahu led them into a rear courtyard. Karen stepped back into the brilliance of the sunlight — and the heat. Miyuki shook open her umbrella again.

Around the space, the once-tall walls lay toppled. Lengths of cracked basalt logs were tumbled amid boulders and smaller rocks. Still, the solemnity of the yard was not diminished. Though no longer inside the keep, Karen still felt the weight of centuries there.

Adding to this effect was the courtyard’s central altar: a massive hewn block of prismatic basalt. At four meters in length and a meter high, she guessed that it weighed several tons. They were all drawn to it as it glowed and sparked in the last rays of the afternoon sun. None of them could keep their hands from touching its surface.

Mwahu dropped to his knees.

Karen noted that the spot where he knelt was worn into the rock. How many generations of his people had made the pilgrimage here? she wondered, moving beside him. “Is this the gravestone of your ancient teacher?” she asked.

He nodded, head bowed.

Jack circled the great block. “I don’t seen any writing. No clues.”

Mwahu stood and indicated that Karen should give respect and kneel. She nodded, not wanting to offend, dropped her pack and knelt. Mwahu pointed toward the stone.

She stared, not sure if she was supposed to bow, recite a prayer, or perform some other act of respect. As she looked at where Mwahu pointed, however, she had her answer. “Holy shit.”

“What is it?” Jack said. Miyuki stepped to her other side.

“Come see.” Karen stood and returned to the stone. She brushed the block’s surface with the palm of her hand. It was no optical illusion. “I’m not surprised you missed it. You can only see it if you’re kneeling.”

“See what?”

She tugged Jack down by an arm so he could look across the stone’s surface. She traced a finger. “There.”

Jack’s jaw dropped. “A star!”

“Carved so thinly, or simply worn faint by time, that the only way to see it is from an extreme angle.”

He straightened. “But what does it mean?”

Miyuki took a peek, too, then answered from under her umbrella, “It’s like back at the pyramid. We need the crystal.”

Karen nodded and tugged open her pack.

Jack still looked confused. “What are you talking about?”

Karen hadn’t told him about how she’d used the crystal star, and now she tugged out a black cloth bag and shook it out. Behind her, Mwahu gasped with awe. She crossed to the stone as the others gathered around her, carefully placing the artifact atop the thin carving. It was an exact match. She held her breath, not knowing what to expect. Nothing happened.

Disappointed, Karen stepped back. “The crystal star must act as a key, but how?”

Miyuki, leaning over the stone, said, “Remember back at the pyramid — darkness was the final key.”

Karen slowly nodded. It had taken perfect darkness for the crystal star to function as the key to release them from the heart of the Chatan pyramid.

“So what do we do?” Jack asked. “Wait until nightfall?”

Miyuki looked sick at this suggestion.