by C J Lutton
My chest constricted, as if an invisible hand attempted to tear my heart out. Just when I thought I couldn't survive another minute, the demon's evil laughter subsided, and its voice whispered in my ear. ”Watch out for those two,” said the sultry, insinuating tones. ”They wish you harm. Sherlock wants to sacrifice you for his brother, and Thaddeus blames you for his sister's death. Don't trust them. Come to me and you'll be safe.”
As the monster spoke, I flattened my hands over my ears, willing the voice to be still. I glanced back towards my friends and saw that they, too, were being assaulted by the evil presence.
Holmes was suddenly flung against the wall by unseen hands. His shout was silenced by the force of the assault as it knocked the wind out of him. He rose to his feet and tried to unharness Aramis from beneath his coat, but once again, he fell to his knees. The voice spoke to us in insistent, hurried whispers. I looked to Thaddeus and saw him doubled over in frenzied spasms.
And still the voice whispered. On and on and on.
Holmes was lifted off of the floor. He hovered near the hole, while still trying to bring up Aramis.
”Stop!” I cried. ”I'll listen no more! Holmes can you hear me? Thaddeus? We must stick together!”
In a great woosh, the air drafted down the hole as Holmes’ body spun round. His head began to disappear down into the opening.
”Holmes!” I shouted, gasping for the air that was steadily thinning. I became lightheaded and saw the torches faltering. Holmes’ body spun like a dervish as he continued to be drawn into a maelstrom of twisting winds. A physical presence held me pressed flat against the wall. I desperately sought to free myself from its grip.
”Take me, you devil,” I snarled. “Leave Holmes alone!”
Rallying my courage and anger, I pushed away from the wall. Now I, too, was drawn into the tidal winds and carried towards the hole. Thaddeus looked on helplessly as the current tossed me about like a cork on water. I drifted away from him and towards Holmes. The only part of my friend’s body still visible were his feet. I made one last desperate lunge and grabbed his ankles. As I struggled to hold on, I was sucked down. I plummeted halfway into the hole. The weight of Holmes’ body as I hung onto him caused my muscles to rebel. I screamed out in pain, fighting an unseen possessor.
”Take me!” I cried. ”Take me!”
”In due time, doctor!” laughed the voice in my ear. I could feel and smell the monster's evil breath. The threatening tone of the presence's voice coursed through my body. My ability to withstand the blasphemous harangue of oaths, threats, and temptations was surprising.
”Words!” I yelled. ”That's all they are—just words! Come, I demand that you show yourself!”
Suddenly, with an effortless and unlimited reservoir of strength and anger, I slowly pulled Holmes back to the surface. As his head cleared the darkness, it seemed as if the evil force had simply given up.
Holmes crashed to the floor.
I dragged him away from the hole and leaned him against the wall. His dazed expression still held the terror that had enveloped him when the ordeal began. But for a few new scrapes and the swollen eye he had received earlier, he looked none the worse for wear.
”Are you all right?” I asked, as his eyes struggled to focus.
Unable to speak, he could only nod.
I turned my attention to Thaddeus, who was just now coming round. ”What about you, Thaddeus? Are you, all right?”
”Y—y—yes,” he stammered. ”I think so. What about Mr. Holmes?”
”He'll be fine.”
I assisted Thaddeus to his feet and had him sit next to Holmes as I went about gathering up our packs and equipment. When I was finished, I sat against the wall, feeling both exhausted and thankful for the sudden strength to save my friends.
The air had returned to its normal dampness, and the torches were once again glowing brightly as I shut my eyes to rest. My nightmarish thoughts betrayed me, as I attempted to make sense of what had occurred and to put the cataclysmic event into perspective.
”What happened?” asked Holmes, stirring from his stupor.
”It's over,” I responded. ”We're alive and everything's back to normal. At least, as normal as it can be. What about you?”
”He's gone?” Holmes asked, his eyes darting.
”Yes.”
”Watson, thank you.”
”You would have done the same, Holmes.”
From the look in his eyes, it was plain that he was worrying over something.
”What is it? What's troubling you?” I asked.
”Dracula. He's more powerful than I thought. He has the ability to invade our minds. That's why we were so short with each other. He told me things...”
”I know,” I answered. ”He spoke to me, also.”
”Me, too,” added Thaddeus.
We sat quietly, considering the consequences of our findings. From deep within the bowels of the cave, a soft, odious laugh could be heard, receding into this netherworld. We rose and walked to the opening of the shaft. One by one, we nodded that we were ready. Holmes stooped to pick up a small wooden splinter and lifted it to his eyes.
”From the coffin, no doubt. And look at these marks and this fiber.” Holmes indicated the small, bright abrasions worn into the side of the hole. “I believe these are rope burns. The coffin was lowered by rope to the bottom.”
Holmes lit his second torch and held it over the hole. ”I can't see a thing.”
He let the torch plummet into the abyss. We watched as it reached the bottom with a display of sparks, flying into the air.
”About one hundred and fifty feet, I would guess,” Thaddeus said.
”I agree.” Holmes nodded. ”We've more than enough rope.”
To hang ourselves, I thought.
”Here, secure yours to mine,” said Holmes, as he tossed the line to Thaddeus. Holmes picked up a piton and hammered it securely into place.
I took a karabiner and snapped it onto the piton. Thaddeus fastened the length of rope to it, tossing one end down into the darkness. Holmes put on his pack and checked to make sure Aramis was secure. He tucked the quiver inside his coat and buttoned it tight.
”I'll descend first, then you, Watson, and Thaddeus, you follow. As I'm going down, I'll call up my observations. We don't want any more surprises.” Holmes looked at us and said, ”To hell, gentlemen!”
Handing me his torch, he lowered himself over the side. He relit the miner's cap and began his downward journey.
We watched with concern as the soft beam of light grew smaller. Rocks and dirt were knocked loose as Holmes brushed against them. They fell to the bottom in cascading crashes.
”It's beginning to narrow!” Holmes finally shouted. ”I can rest against the sides. It's a typical chimney rappel.”
The rope stayed taut from his weight and creaked as we lowered him down. We estimated him to be half the way. As Thaddeus and I continued to feed the rope, hand over hand, it suddenly went slack.
”Holmes!” I called. ”Are you all right?”
”Interesting,” he said.
”Holmes, the rope! What happened?”
”I'm resting against the side of the chimney! Everything's fine! There's a side tunnel and... Wait a minute! Hallo! The coffin was pulled through the side tunnel! I'm sure of it!”
Thaddeus and I hung our heads over the side and grew alarmed when Holmes’ light disappeared. Minutes passed before we saw the beam again, as his head peered out of the side tunnel.
”Light your lamps,” he called, breathing heavily. ”Watson, when I give you the word, lower yourself.”
We watched as he maneuvered his body out of the side tunnel and positioned himself beneath the large shaft so he could catch me if I needed help.
”Come on down, Watson, and be careful,” he shouted.
Stuffing the torches through the straps that secured the top of my pack, I dangled my feet over the side and glanced up at Thaddeus.
”
If anything should happen...” I said, feeling my throat go dry.
”Nothing will,” he interrupted. ”We will all get out of here alive.”
Grabbing the rope, I carefully lowered myself hand over hand. The shaft was dark and narrow, lined with jagged rocks that snagged my clothes as I dropped. Cold water bubbled and dripped through small fissures that scarred the sides. The icy flow seemed always to find its way inside my collar, and into the opening between my gloves and sleeves. By the time I reached Holmes, I was chilled to the bone and gasping for air.
”You did fine, old friend,” said Holmes from below me as he grabbed the soles of my boots. ”Crawl through the tunnel until you come out the other side and wait for us.”
Thankfully, I hadn't realized he had untethered himself. Holmes had managed his precarious position by wedging himself against the sides of the shaft. Struggling, I pulled myself up and into the side tunnel. Holmes unsnapped my line and called up to Thaddeus.
Twenty meters of crawling brought me to the other side of the tunnel, and I found myself in another wondrous chamber. Though Holmes had left a flaming torch to light the cavernous room, I did not brave any exploring on my own. Deciding instead to wait for my companions to arrive, I nervously waited with Porthos at the ready. My nerves were frayed, and I jumped upon hearing the thunderous roar of rushing water somewhere on the other side of the chamber.
In a short while, we were again standing together in another quiet and dark wonderland. This chamber was much smaller in size than the previous one, but it was truly a faerie world. Just as we had discovered in the first chamber, torches were mounted along the sides of this cave. We quickly lit them.
Brilliant formations of every size and description could be found throughout the entire chamber. Rocks and boulders glowed translucently, as the light from the torches reflected off them. Nature's seamstress had embroidered thousands of scalloped stalactites into pearlescent beads, dripping from a wondrous natural bridge that appeared to float in the air, high above our heads. Seemingly, a caretaker had tended the cave flowers that blossomed in colourful petrified gardens dotting this subterranean world. Most spectacular and most frightening of all was a swiftly moving river.
22
The Underground River
The river flowed from one side of the chamber and disappeared through a tunnel at the far end. The water was fed by a waterfall cascading fifty or sixty feet above the cave’s floor. The mineral—rich waters raced out of the rock through a V—shaped crevice and into a basin. There they churned up the bottom and spilled over a stone dam, before they rushed into the river.
Thaddeus and I sat on the floor and tossed flat pieces of shale across the surface of the water. We playfully counted the number of skips.
As always, Holmes was unable to remain still for long. He explored our surroundings and vanished behind a mammoth column at the exit of the river. After a few minutes, he reappeared from behind the column and walked towards us.
”I've followed these marks to see where they go,” he said, standing over us and pointing at the fresh ruts carved into the floor. ”Wait until you see what I've found. Follow me.”
Groaning with effort, we rose to our feet and followed him, retracing his steps and staring at the deep cuts in the floor. Once we reached the giant column, we walked round to the other side. There, standing on one end, was a flat—bottomed, bull—nosed wooden boat.
”How did that get here?” Thaddeus asked incredulously.
”Moriarty and some of his men dragged it here, judging from the different sets of footprints. Those grooves were caused by dragging the coffin. You'll observe they lead to the river and then nothing. The coffin was lifted into the boat and floated downstream. We're getting close. I can feel it.”
Wondering silently whether or not that was a good thing, I thought of how frightfully close we had come to losing Holmes earlier.
”Look at what else I've found,” the detective said, turning and walking back behind the column.
Anxiously, we followed. To our surprise, Holmes pointed to the two wooden crates that he'd already opened. Cans were stacked inside. ”Food!” he said, tossing one of the cans in the air and then catching it. ”Most probably it was for the sentries who were posted here. There's even the remains of an old campfire.”
Things were suddenly looking brighter, I thought. And then Thaddeus deflated my buoyant mood by saying, ”How do we know it's not a trap? The food may be poisoned.”
”I find it improbable that they'd go to such lengths,” Holmes said. “As you can see, the cans haven't been tampered with.” He tossed us each a can.
”Perhaps you're right, Mr. Holmes, but we can lower our risk by conducting an experiment. If I may?” Thaddeus gestured to the crates.
”By all means.”
The young man spilled the contents of one of the crates onto the floor and carried it to the center of the chamber.
”Make yourselves comfortable. This may take a while,” Thaddeus warned us. Reaching into his pocket, he removed a ball of twine and a small knife. Randomly selecting three cans from the two piles, he punctured their lids and pried them open. He carried them and a stick of wood over to the empty crate. We watched as he removed a piece of meat from each can. After sitting on the floor, he cut three equal short pieces of twine. He wrapped and knotted each of these around a piece of meat. Then he tied loops in the opposite ends of the twine. Finally, he threaded the point of the stick through the three loops.
Turning the crate so that the opening was facing the floor, he lifted one edge of the box and balanced it against the flat end of the stick. The pointed end was driven very lightly into the ground. Reaching under the balanced crate, Thaddeus carefully arranged the meat so that all three pieces were spread on the floor of the chamber. The twine snaked from the meat back to the small stick. Thaddeus centered the pieces of meat under the upside—down crate.
”Now we wait.” Thaddeus smiled.
Holmes backed away and picked up the opened cans. Then all three of us hurried behind the column.
Over the din of the falls, it was impossible to hear anything but our own heartbeats. Before we knew it, a solitary rat came creeping along. It wandered in from the same tunnel that we had used, then lifted its nose in the air and sniffed for a few moments. After satisfying itself that all was well, the creature bravely jumped from one rock to another until finally it dropped to the floor of the chamber. Warily, the rat hugged the wall. Standing on its hind legs, the rodent pawed the air. Slowly, it wandered out from the wall and walked an erratic pattern, pausing several times to nibble on something that it found on the floor. As the rat kept moving, it finally caught sight of the trap and walked to within twenty feet of it, before sitting down and staring at it intently.
Tilting its head, the rat sniffed the air. Its eyes studied the cavern, and carefully considered this strange new thing in the middle of the room. Making up its mind, the rat inched its way towards the crate. The rodent was very nearly there next to the bait, when without warning, he turned and ran back up the wall and into the tunnel.
”Now what?” I asked, disgustedly.
”Patience, Watson,” Holmes whispered. ”He'll be back.”
Preparing for what I thought would be an insufferably long wait, I was about to step out from behind the column to retrieve the other crate so I could sit down, but suddenly a marauding army of rats poured out of the tunnel. They came in such dizzying numbers and mass that I thought I was witnessing a mud slide! The hairy black and brown rodents crested at the mouth of the tunnel and cascaded down to the floor in a rippling tide of teeth—gnashing hunger. Wave after wave of frenzied rats poured into the cavern.
”Good heavens,” I cried in a hoarse whisper. ”Look at them. There must be thousands of them!”
I turned to my companions and saw the disgust and incredulity on their faces.
Holmes glanced down at his hands and at the cans of food he still held, tossing them into the center of t
he floor. The scent of meat, as the food spilled out of the cans, sent the living tide of disease into a churning cauldron of fury! The floor disappeared beneath the teeming army of rats. It was impossible to see whether any of them took the bait in the trap.
As we watched the melee, a few ventured near us. We aimed stones at them, sending the filthy beasts scurrying away in confusion. As time passed, they became more brazen in their efforts to satisfy their hunger. Slowly, they advanced on us. Shockingly, we realised that we were their next meal.
Thaddeus fired Athos into the swarm of hairy beasts. Then Holmes and I let loose Aramis and Porthos.
The thunderous roars reverberated off the walls. It was more the reports of the shotguns than anything else that made the rodents retreat into the shadows. After quickly reloading our weapons, we fired again and listened to the scurrying and screeching beasts disappear down the tunnel. We stood there shocked at the mayhem we had just witnessed.
”Thank you, Thaddeus,” Holmes said, turning to the ashen—faced young man.
”For what?” he asked. ”The crate is overturned, and there's not a rat to be seen. My trap failed miserably.”
”I'm afraid he's right, Holmes,” I said. “We're no closer to learning the truth of our find.”
”No, Watson, you're wrong. I was thanking Thaddeus for saving our lives. He was right. It was a trap.”
”I'm sorry, sir. I don't follow.” Thaddeus ejected the spent shells from Athos and placed two fresh ones down its gullet. “Enlighten us, if you will.”
”Very well,” Holmes continued. “I said the food was most probably untainted because of the necessity of having to introduce a poison into the cans prior to their sealing. Thaddeus correctly assumed that it was a trap. You see, the food is most probably edible. Therein lies the trap.”
Slowly, I grasped Holmes’ meaning. “Of course. I should have seen the obvious. Please go on. Our young Thaddeus is still in the dark.”