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The statue has the torso and arms of a man, and the wings, head, beak, and talons of a bird of prey.
“Um, who’s this charming fella?” I ask.
“Garuda,” Logan repeats. “The legendary bird-like creature, a guardian with the power of traveling anywhere.”
“So he’s one of the good guys?”
“They all are.” Logan shifts his gaze, along with the beam of his light, to the statue in the center. “This is Yasha. He or she…” Logan lowers his gaze to the sculpture’s chest area. “She, then… is another guardian deity, mostly benevolent.”
“Mostly?” I ask. “What does she do when she gets angry?”
Logan gives me a cheeky grin. “She devours nosy travelers.”
Smith knocks on the statue’s feet. “Well, at least the man-eating bitch is made of solid gold. Hollow by the sound of it, but it must still weigh a few tons. Pity they didn’t make smaller versions we could bring home as souvenirs.” The soldier lets out a low chuckle.
Logan scowls at him. “Everything we find here belongs in a museum.”
“Yeah, sure, Professor.” Smith shrugs. “Just saying the bitch is valuable.”
The boys are still glaring at each other, so, to defuse the tension, I ask, “And what about the last one?” I stare up at the third statue, illuminating its devil face. “He doesn’t look friendly to me.”
“That’d be Mock,” Logan says. “He is a monkey god of justice. Together, they’re a powerful trinity of guardians.”
“And what are they supposed to guard?” I ask.
“Very good question, Miss Knowles.” Logan turns to me, and then back to the statues. “Why don’t we go find out?”
Our lights cut through the darkness behind the colossi, but they meet no wall. The main aisle seems to open onto a smaller cave, just as a lesser chapel opens out of a great cathedral.
“Shall we?” Logan asks.
I nod and follow him to the end of the vast and silent cavern, where we find another doorway—not arched like the one at the entrance to the temple, but square at the top.
“Rather ghastly,” I say, peering into the dark passageway.
“Come on, don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet now?” Logan teases, and politely makes room for me to take the front. “Ladies first?”
“Hell no.”
“All right.” Logan chuckles and once again leads the way into the darkness.
This passage is smaller, and we have to proceed single file. Logan in the vanguard, me in the middle, and Smith taking the rearguard. The only sound is that of our feet scraping the dusty floor, and I can’t help being overcome by some unaccountable bad presentiment. Like something evil is awaiting us on the other side of the tunnel.
After about twenty paces, I’m beginning to feel claustrophobic when, thank goodness, we reach a wider space. We’re in a gloomy, rectangular room forty feet long by thirty across, and about thirty-five feet in height. This area doesn’t have natural lighting like the main hall, but at least there’s enough room to breathe, giving my mounting cabin fever a rest.
The last thing I want to do is admit to Satan that I’m scared. So I concentrate on our surroundings. It doesn’t take long for my eyes to grow accustomed to the dimmer light and make out the contents of the new chamber.
The center of the room is taken over by a massive stone table with a gold figure lying across its length. A reclining Buddha.
The statue is on his right side, head resting on a cushion with an arm folded underneath.
Even if the surrounding atmosphere has a slightly grim feel to it, the figure looks serene.
Still on edge, I babble the first thing that comes into my head. “Great place to take a nap, I guess.”
“This is a representation of Buddha’s last illness,” Logan says. “He is awaiting death to enter nirvana.”
“Cheery.” I chuckle nervously. The statue reminds me of the reclining Buddha I saw in the Wat Pho temple in Bangkok.
