A Fistful of Dust Page 12

  “I am in charge, and if I did not agree we would not be doing this. I have my doubts, but, Professor, I do not believe you would do anything to put Miss Annabelle in jeopardy, so either deep down you are sure, or you are being influenced. In neither case can I blame you. Still, I suggest we shelve the mutual condemnation party, sirs, until this fails.”

  “It won’t fail,” Nathaniel said, facing ahead. “It mustn’t.”

  3.

  ALTHOUGH ANNABELLE FOUND Henry Barnsdale-Stevens to be a thoroughly likeable chap, she had no reason to trust him. He had got himself into a bit of a scrap. So had she. So had they all. Nevertheless, she had not crossed the aether with nothing more than a gentleman’s gentleman for company to team up with a group of disreputable entrepreneurs. She could at last see what Joseph Highmore meant when he said Henry didn’t stop to think. Therefore, she found it quite difficult to put her faith in Henry as their guide when the gloom intensified and she found herself walking in darkness so pitch, it crossed her mind that this must be what it felt like to be buried alive. The cavern might be large but was essentially one vast coffin.

  Refusing to panic, Annabelle soldiered on, wishing for George, or Nathaniel, even Arnaud or Folkard at her side. These people were all very well, but she wanted her dearest friends. The situation was too akin to a feeling she could recall of being a girl alone among savages. She had learned by experience how a tribe could be close knit, put the needs of their own group above the well-being of others, even to the point of ruthlessness.

  She had thought herself above that, but now thinking of the others, wondering what had become of them, if she had to choose…

  “How do you know where you are going?” Elizabeth’s voice cut through the sound of their breathing, the occasional cough, and the shuffle of their feet.

  As well as Annabelle’s despondent thoughts.

  She closed her eyes, her vision doing her little good anyway, and swallowed against the onset of tears. Phobos seemed to have given up tormenting her in one way and now appeared to want to assail her in others. She would not succumb. She would not.

  “When you’ve been down here a long time, Elizabeth, your sight seems to adjust. Besides, I know the way.”

  The way led out into a larger cavern where once again soft radiance issued from the walls.

  “Carstairs, we have guests,” Henry called out to a man propped against one wall.

  “Carstairs!” Elizabeth rushed to his side and knelt. Joseph approached more sedately.

  “Can’t say I’m glad to see you, Miss. Sir.” Carstairs nodded to them in turn. His words were followed by a fit of coughing. “Or any of you; not down here. I’d rise if I could.” He shifted and winced. Highmore waved a hand.

  “Do not your stress yourself. This place is hardly suited to the best of etiquette.”

  Henry had already explained that Carstairs had broken an ankle, and while Miller had allowed one of his men to set it, they had abandoned both of them. Since then, Carstairs’ health had deteriorated. Annabelle didn’t like the sound of that cough; far too wet.

  “Only decent thing that blighter has done,” Carstairs said, “giving me something for the pain. Of course, he caused the injury in the first place.”

  “A guilty conscious, no doubt,” Elizabeth chimed in.

  “Not sure the man has one,” Carstairs mumbled. “Probably his way of prolonging the inevitable. Begging your pardon, Miss; I think I would have given up long ago if it were not for my duty to Henry, and that it be against God.”

  “Forgive my lapse. I will fetch some water and prepare…something of a meal.”

  No one questioned Henry’s announcement of a water source. The men would hardly have been able to survive without it. “I’ll help.” Annabelle volunteered before she stopped to think. She bit at her lip and stared at Elizabeth, hoping her expression displayed her contrition. “That is…”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “Let us both help.”

  “I can fetch and carry,” Highmore offered.

  “Let all four of us do so. My dear ladies, I would not presume to have you lugging water, but I would appreciate good company.”

  4.

  “THEY GAVE YOU supplies?” Annabelle stared at the two buckets standing under the meagre flow of water that seemed to seep out of and run down the wall. The buckets collected the drips, but she could see it would take some time to fill each.

  “They gave us buckets and blankets, a couple of cups. Not what I would call supplies, but it has served to keep us alive. We tried sleeping here at first.” Henry gestured to the surrounding area. “But the blankets grew sodden. At least the water seems clean. I was afraid we would grow sick on it, but having no choice…” He shrugged.

  “You’ve done so well,” Elizabeth said, patently trying to buoy Henry’s optimism. Oddly, Annabelle had found a strange acceptance in the idea that she might expire; with it came a type of liberation. Whatever caused The Phobos Effect, Annabelle felt somewhat immune. She couldn’t see how their situation could worsen, and there was some freedom in that.

  “I agree with Miss Elizabeth. Many a man would have succumbed by now.”

  “Thank you, Joseph. It’s…difficult not to despair. When we heard the platform in use, we had hoped…” Henry laughed. “Foolish of us to think our captors would also choose to be our rescuers. Yet we cannot fathom why they have kept us alive if not for some purpose other than some cruel joke.”

  Annabelle thought she had the answer. “I surmise they were uncertain, not much caring whether you lived or died, but open to the possibility that you might yet prove useful. And they may feel the same regarding our own incarceration.”

  “Unfortunately, that makes sense, Annabelle,” Elizabeth said.

  Annabelle nodded. “I propose we don’t give them the chance.”

  “Escape, Miss Somerset?” Henry seemed aghast, as if she were leading Elizabeth astray.

  “Indeed, and please, call me Annabelle.” She did her best not to look at Highmore as she made the offer.

  Henry returned Annabelle’s smile. “It…does seem rather pointless to stand on ceremony down here. As for escape, do you think I’ve not tried to find a way out of this abyss?”

  “I know you have. Begging your pardon, you’ve been one man hampered with an injured companion.”

  “True. I’ve explored as far as I can, but I haven’t been able to leave Carstairs for more than a few hours. Carstairs is a royal pain in my seat, but he’s my pain, and I’d not leave him.”

  “You’re no longer alone, Henry.” Smiling, Henry patted the hand Elizabeth placed on his arm.

  “And we’ll work into getting everyone out of here,” Highmore declared.

  Wishing she could feel as certain, Annabelle gave way to her tiredness, leaning back against the wall, starting with a gasp when something moved.

  “Take no notice of those…Annabelle.” Henry was at once at her side. “They’re perfectly harmless. Reminds me of a sea spider, an arthropod often found in Mediterranean and Caribbean Seas, also the Antarctic or Arctic Oceans. None of the known species I’ve seen recorded look exactly like these, but they are decidedly similar. They’re plentiful here. Easy to catch. Taste pretty good, too.”

  “Taste?” Annabelle stared at the creature now scuttling vertically up the wall. The shell was pink and white. Her mind flashed back to the meal the Chaldrites had provided.

  “How do you cook them?” Elizabeth asked.

  Henry looked at her. “I’m sorry, my dear. You don’t. They’re not bad. Tastes a little like chicken.”

  Apparently, what Annabelle had already worked out made itself apparent to Elizabeth. Her eyes went wide. Her jaw dropped. Henry frowned.

  “The Chaldrites gave us a meal of them.” Annabelle explained. “We didn’t realise we were eating them raw, although we should have worked out that the Chaldrites wouldn’t know how to cook.”

  “Chaldrites?”

  “The giant beetles.”

&n
bsp; “Is that what they’re called? How did you…”

  Clearly, Henry was eager to discover what else they had learned, but stopped when Highmore spoke.

  “Try not to fret so, Elizabeth. They tasted quite good when we didn’t know.”

  “I’ll well aware of that, Joseph. It just…came as a surprise.” Elizabeth placed a hand over her stomach.

  “If you’re going to be ill…”

  “I’m going to be no such thing. Brother, don’t fuss over me so. Please, carry one of these pails back to Carstairs. See if we can do anything more to make the poor man comfortable. We’ll follow with the other and…dinner.”

  “As you wish.” Highmore, taking one of the buckets, walked away.

  “He’s always fretted over me so.” Elizabeth complained. “Between him and Whitlock it can be stifling, and I’m unsure whether Whitlock isn’t even worse.”

  “Hardly surprising,” Henry declared.

  “Not sure I understand.”

  Henry laughed. “Why the good man loves you, my dear.”

  “That…cannot be.”

  “Why shouldn’t he?”

  “He’s a…common soldier, and our servant.”

  “Love has no barriers, Elizabeth.”

  “Are you not angry with him?”

  “For what? Taking care of you? Has he ever done anything inappropriate?”

  “Well…no.”

  “There you are then.” Henry moved in front of her. “My dear, I appreciate anyone who has seen to your safety. I can hardly blame anyone for loving you when I see so much to love myself. If you should love someone else, my sweet Elizabeth, I would not stand in your way.”

  “Why, Henry, what are you saying?”

  “Just that…I am never going to change.”

  An unfortunate witness to this outpouring of devotion, Annabelle took to studying one of the sea spiders. She could see what Henry meant by their being easy to catch. She had put several feet between herself and the lovers, but the formation of the cave sent whispers to her ears.

  “I am quite the adventurer it seems.”

  “My dear Henry; I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  “We are perfectly suited then, and…I say.” Henry broke off suddenly. “Did you feel that?”

  5.

  THEY BELIEVED THEY reached a problem when they had to climb down through the rocks. Notch wasn’t going to be able to accompany them, and they weren’t sure the Chaldrite would take kindly to being left behind. They needn’t have worried. Although they had to push him in one place and feared the rock would scrape his shell, for the most part the Chaldrite was quite capable of adhering to the surface, just as any insect on earth. Clearly, their shells were tough and it begged the questions what force had caused the chip in Notch’s carapace.

  They had warned both Arnaud and Whitlock about the crystal city, so although both were suitably awed, they were able to hurry them along. Clearly, the city was no surprise to Notch who seemed to find their fascination curious.

  They left Whitlock at the entrance at the base and moved along the corridor. Folkard hesitated at the metal wall, but Nathaniel urged him along.

  “These are the…chambers, you described?”

  “Yes, Doctor.”

  “Do you mind if I…?” Arnaud disappeared into one of the chambers without waiting for permission. Folkard shook his head but kept walking. Although torn, Nathaniel could not abandon his mission for the sake of Arnaud’s curiosity, especially when he could see no immediate danger, so continued to the base of the monolith. A simple examination revealed nothing useful.

  “Folkard?” Nathaniel had hoped Folkard would sense something.

  “I’m not…sure.”

  They were still investigating when Arnaud joined them. At his glance, Nathaniel shook his head.

  “This is the creature you both saw?” Arnaud examined the creatures on the monolith. When both confirmed, he said, “Looks like a mole.”

  Now that Arnaud mentioned it, Nathaniel saw the resemblance.

  “By the way, gentlemen.” Folkard waited until they were both looking at him. “The creature is nearby. I believe it is sleeping.”

  “You know that?”

  There was no reply. Folkard approached, held his hands out a few inches from the surface.

  “This is similar to what you saw above?” Arnaud whispered when Folkard failed to perform a miracle.

  “Yes, though on smaller scale and not all the markings above are on this portion, though many are duplicated.”

  “It looks like a family tree.”

  Nathaniel glanced at the layout of the symbols. “Yes. A hierarchy. The…” He shrugged. “The mole is at the top of this middle segment, what we presume to be Chaldrites second. These two, I have no idea what they represent. This.” Nathaniel pointed to the last of the five top figures. “It resembles a starfish. The things we ate?”

  “I hate to agree but oui. And reason dictates a food chain.”

  “A food chain? Not a hierarchy?”

  “Maybe both.”

  The top most one was a humanoid shape. A head and four limbs, what appeared to be two arms and two legs. Beneath it a circle.

  “The head…” Arnaud hesitated, searching for a word. “Sachem?”

  “Maybe. Tribe leader is as good a hypothesis as any.”

  “Bien je jamais.” Arnaud looked at Nathaniel when he raised an eyebrow. “Annabelle, she wondered why the Chaldrites were so eager to attend to us, why they followed the other men as well as us and seemed upset over our altercation. This could explain why.”

  “They think this symbol depicts man?”

  “As good a reasoning as any.” Arnaud glanced at Notch, lowering his voice, despite the beetle’s lack of understanding. “They may think we are something we are not.”

  “Quite, but I believe these are Drobates, though your theory holds. The beetles indeed mistook the two arms and two legs as representing man.”

  “This is broken.” Folkard rejoined the conversation making both Nathaniel and Arnaud jump. Even as they looked at him, Folkard laid his hands on the third and final part of the monolith, the display of symbols. The monolith coming to life made them leap away.

  6.

  “WHAT IS THAT?” Highmore clutched at his head as if he experienced the onset of a headache.

  Annabelle closed her eyes; she felt strangely nauseous. Maybe spiny moon spider didn’t agree with her.

  “I’ve been here more weeks than I care to count,” Henry said. “I’ve never felt this before.”

  “Headache?”

  “No.” Henry answered Joseph’s question even as Elizabeth said, “Yes.”

  “Ill. I feel ill.” Annabelle barely managed to get the words out through gritted teeth. She feared if she opened her mouth, she might be sick.

  “Dizzy.” This was from Henry. So they were all experiencing different things.

  7.

  “I’M NOT EVEN going to try to guess what powers this thing.” Nathaniel lay on his side staring into the inner workings of moving cogs and threads of light. Nathaniel knew of no other means to describe the filaments, they being a form of technology way beyond his comprehension. When Folkard had said it wouldn’t burn, Nathaniel hadn’t bothered asking how he knew, just turned his attention to the…shining wires. They felt slightly fibrous, gave off light but no heat. The light from the panel stuttered in comparison. “I see what’s wrong. It’s so simple. Some of these gears have slipped out of alignment.”

  “You can repair?”

  “Oui. I mean yes.” When Nathaniel looked up, he saw Arnaud grinning down at him for his slip into French.

  Chapter Twelve

  “In Which Some May Question Whether This is the Best All Worlds”

  1.

  “IF I COULD only…reach.” Nathaniel cursed. While he lay there expecting a jolt of power that might well fry him, he attempted to align the last cog. Despite his patience and sensitive touch, it just refused to sl
ip into place, the task made more difficult by his weak wrist.

  “Erm…Nathaniel.”

  “Not now, Arnaud. This…requires…delicacy.” Nathaniel reached deeper, the strain of over-stretching making a muscle pop in his side. “Damn!” The cog slipped again and Nathaniel had to give up the attempt in order to catch his breath. He rubbed his wrist, which had begun to tremble.

  “Nathaniel.”

  Maybe if he tried another angle.

  “Mon toujours!”

  Something in Arnaud’s voice accompanied by a hissing from Notch indicated urgency. Nathaniel pushed away from the monolith, looked to where Arnaud was staring. He’d previously noted the large opening of sufficient size that it would only require a step up and a stoop to slip through to the bottom of the crystal city. Now, something blocked the light. At first, Nathaniel thought it was Folkard, then he got a clearer view.

  The captain stood swaying. Before him, the burrowing creature reared up. The fur was indeed golden, with a silky appearance. Its snout and paws, or claws, for that was the shape of its forequarters, were of the same pale skin. Though pale, the epidermis was clearly tough like the pads on an animal’s feet.

  At least there was something of a barrier between Folkard and the creature, although if it decided to strike, it could probably bring the entire ceiling down.

  “Try talking to him.”

  “I have.”

  Had he been that engrossed he had failed to hear Arnaud speaking to the captain? “Arnaud, swap places with me. Lie down. Look in there. Can you see the cog, the third one from the back, out of alignment?”

  “No. Wait. Yes. Got it.”

  “Try to put it back.”

  “Give me the simple job,” Arnaud muttered.

  Hoping he hadn’t just made a mistake and that Arnaud might have better luck and wouldn’t be hurt, Nathaniel turned his attention to Folkard. The man stood rigid, gaze intent yet unfocused, his lower lip a little slack.

  “Captain. We could be in danger. I need you to snap out of this.” Nathaniel glanced at the creature, positive he could feel it gazing back, although it appeared to have no eyes. It didn’t seem aggressive, but how could one tell? Notch didn’t like it, but if the beetle was on this thing’s menu, Nathaniel could understand why. “Jacob?”