Free The Thrones of Eden 3 (Eden) by Rick Jones

locations.
    From the wall of the abyss a crystal lever with a black silica hammerhead attached to the end of it swung outward then down, the hammer perfectly gauged to strike and demolish the crystal walkway, which it did, shattering it to countless pieces that were no larger than chips of diamonds, the crystal raining down into the abyss as glinting pinpricks of light, then gone.
    As the hammer swung towards its upward apex and reaching a height until it stilled, it then began to swing in the opposite direction with two of Demir’s men still clinging to the ladder.
    Motivated by the power of the hammer which was now swinging their way, they climbed up the ladder with speed and agility, back to the choke point of the room above.
    The hammer was moving in a smooth and fluid arc, its momentum gaining speed.
    The two commandos were half way up when the hammer passed them by, missing them by a few feet, the swipe of the hammer’s head close enough for them to feel the passing breeze against their flesh.
    When the hammer swung to its apex and began to swing back the other way, there was a sound of ratcheting; a cranking noise that indicated that with every swipe of the hammer it was somehow resetting itself to move closer to the ladder for the final blow.
    . . . Whoosh . . .
    The hammer missed them by a foot and began to arc away into its upward motion, then stilled, the sound of something ratcheting, and then it began its downward shift.
    The commando on the top rung reached for the edge, found purchase, and began to haul himself up. His comrade, however, was not as lucky.
    . . . Whoosh . . .
    The hammer was so heavy it didn’t even slow down when it smashed the black silica ladder into countless shards and pieces, decimating it. The commando on the rungs found himself falling backward into the abyss with his legs kicking for something that wasn’t there, his eyes flaring with the sudden surprise of his own mortality, the world around him moving with the slowness of a bad dream. Above him he saw impotent faces looking down at him—each one confirming that there was nothing they could do to save him.
    He then closed his eyes, opened them, the bad dream continuing, the faces watching him now growing to the size of pinhead dots while the hammer continued to swing from one side to the next.
    . . . swinging . . .
    . . . swinging . . .
    Then darkness that was completely whole engulfed him. 
     
    #
    The commando who made it to the top hung along the edges of the room’s choke point by the crooks of his fingers. Beneath him the hammer continued to swing like the needle of a metronome. Then with great effort he hauled himself up and over the edge, eventually finding comfort on the landing. He then lowered his lip microphone, calmed himself with deep breaths, and contacted Demir.
    In Turkish: “ Mulazim awwal Demir? ”
    Static over the headset, then: “ Kaya, are you all right? ”
    “ I’m fine ,” he said. Then: “ We lost Aslan .”
    “ I know .”
    The hammer continued to swing but was beginning to lose its momentum.
    Kaya got to his feet and examined his surroundings with his shoulder lamp. The floor was steeply angled from all sides, funnel-shaped, with the only entryway sealed when the walls shifted. The man was a prisoner with no way up or down.
    He then cupped his palm around his lip microphone. “ Mulazim awwal Demir, I have enough provisions to last me a few days. I’ll be fine.”
    “Hold tight, Kaya. We’ll find our way back to you. In the meantime, maintain contact every fifteen minutes.”
    “Copy that.” Kaya lifted his microphone until it swung up over his beret, undid his backpack, took out a small container of water, drank, and then he lay against the angled floor with his hands locked behind his head and waited.
     
    #
    Demir snapped his lip microphone over his head in anger. He lost another man and another was trapped. After a moment of stewing he turned to Hillary, who looked like a frightened