But for every foot she rose upward, the river carried her two feet sideways and it wasn’t long before she began to feel herself tiring. Her lungs protested her treatment of them, as well, demanding fresh oxygen, but to open her mouth at this depth meant a sure death by drowning, so she clamped her mouth shut and fought for the surface as hard as she could.

The churning water kept her from being able to feel the natural buoyancy of her body and kept her from trying to open her eyes underwater, worried as she was about all the natural debris rushing along in the current with her.

Was she struggling so hard because she was headed for the bottom rather than climbing toward the surface? How could she tell?

The thought nearly paralyzed her, the fear it evoked overwhelming in its intensity. The animal side of her brain began screaming at her, telling her she was going in the wrong direction and that she was going to die if she didn’t do something about it now,and it took all of her concentration to force that monster back into the mental closet it had suddenly lurched out of. She fought to think clearly, rationally, but her burning lungs were demanding she take another breath and she felt her lips peeling back as her body disobeyed the commands her brain was giving it…

Annja broke through to the surface of the water with a tremendous gasp, surprised to feel the cool mountain air filling her lungs like a miracle from above. Her relief was short-lived, however, for the rush of the water swept over her head and forced her back underwater seconds later.

This time, though, she was prepared for it, her fear now firmly in check, and so she was able to swiftly fight her way back to the surface and keep her head above water as she sought a way out of the predicament her wild jump had gotten her into.

Looking around, she discovered that she was being swept downstream even faster than she’d thought. She was already quite far from where she’d entered the water and even as she looked back the way she had come she was carried around a bend in the river and the monastery was lost from view. Perhaps even more disconcerting, however, was her realization that the water itself was shockingly cold, so much so that staying in it for too long was not an option.

If I don’t do something, I’m either going to freeze to death or get swept all the way to the English Channel.

The right bank was closer, so with grim determination she turned toward it and began swimming perpendicular to the current, trying to make her way across. Thankfully, the river was reasonably free of jutting rocks and she didn’t have to worry about being slammed against them as she was swept along.

It was hard going, the current fighting her for every inch of progress and the cold leeching the energy from her limbs, but she didn’t have any choice but to continue pushing forward. Bit by bit, the shore drew closer, until at last she felt the river bottom beneath the soles of her shoes. After another ten minutes of grueling effort she broke free of the current and emerged into shallower depths at the river’s edge.

She dragged herself out of the water and up onto the shore, rolling onto her back and doing what she could to catch her breath after the ordeal she’d just been through. She didn’t lay there long, though, for once out of the water the coolness of the mountain air cut through her wet clothes like an Arctic wind and she quickly found herself shivering on the riverbank despite the afternoon sun above.

Annja knew that if she didn’t get out of her wet clothing soon she’d be in serious danger of hypothermia, especially once the sun went down.

I’ve got to get moving, she thought.

She climbed to her feet, only to have a bolt of pain shoot up her left ankle. It hurt enough that she promptly sat back down and gave it a look. She could move it in a slow circle, so she knew it wasn’t broken, and with her shoe on it didn’t seem to be overly swollen, but it was definitely tender to the touch and was already turning a deep shade of bluish black.

I must have twisted it when I hit the water, she thought.

She could see the road through the trees about a dozen yards away and knew she had to head in that direction. She was miles away from even the smallest town and didn’t remember passing a single house or homestead during the final part of her drive. The chances of a random motorist headed in the direction she was going were pretty slim, which meant she was going to have to make her way back up the mountain to the monastery on foot.

At least there she could find some dry clothes, check to see if there were any survivors and even call for help, if no one had done so already.

All she had to do was walk a couple of miles, uphill, on a sprained ankle.

14

Annja’s pace was even slower than she thought it would be. Her injured ankle bore her weight, but just barely, and she was forced to limp along at a pace made all the more frustrating by the fact that she knew there were people at the facility above who needed her help.

She spent the entire journey in a state of tension, listening for the sound of an engine, worried that the attackers would find her alone on the road after leaving the monastery above. She was constantly checking the undergrowth on either side of the road, picking out potential hiding places that she could reach quickly and with a minimum of fuss should the sound of an approaching vehicle reach her ears, but in the end she didn’t need any of them; not a single vehicle passed her going in either direction.

That meant the attackers had probably done what they had come to do and had left the monastery behind while she was still trying to save herself from the river’s current.

That wasn’t a good sign.

Step by step, teeth gritted against the pain, she made her way up to the monastery gates as quickly as she could.

The gates stood wide open, which wasn’t a good sign. As she hobbled through them, she caught sight of a brown-robed figure lying unmoving in the grass between the gates and the small guardhouse nearby. The dark stain that covered the front of his robe didn’t bode well for his chances, but she had to check to be sure before moving on. If he was only injured and she left him behind…

As she drew close enough to see his face, she recognized the silent monk who had let her into the complex earlier. From the looks of it, he’d been shot with a short burst from an automatic weapon. Kneeling down next to him, she checked for a pulse but, as she’d expected, didn’t find one. His eyes were open, staring at the sky above, and so she brushed her hand over them, and then got back to her feet.

Her car was still in the parking area, but the driver’s window had been smashed and the line of bullet holes stitched across the hood let her know that she wouldn’t be taking it anywhere in the near future. Since it wasn’t her car, she didn’t feel all that torn up about the damage; it wasn’t the first vehicle wrecked by those she’d been forced to confront since taking up the sword. No, what made her want to scream in anger and frustration was the fact that they’d gotten the chest, and therefore the puzzle box that it contained. When she’d returned to the complex and rushed back into the monastery, she’d left the chest on the rear seat of the car, easy pickings for anyone looking for it.

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Of course, hindsight was twenty-twenty. There was nothing to do now but soldier on and see what she could make out of the mess.

There were two more bodies on the front steps to the main building and another just inside the door. Each of them had been gunned down in similar fashion. Farther inside she found more of the same. It appeared that the intruders, whoever they had been, had wanted to be certain there wasn’t anyone left to serve as a witness to what had happened here.