“This one,” said Odaldi, mixing up the same purple medication that Chrymos had already been receiving, “is for relieving the pain of the snake venom.” She hurriedly drank it down although she knew from previous doses that its effect would not be immediate.
“And this,” noted Odaldi as he mixed together a nasty-looking brown liquid, “will keep you awake for another 24 hours. It won’t be pleasant, however.” Odaldi smiled coldly. “Every minute will feel like an hour, your skin will crawl and your senses will cry out for sleep.” Chrymos had no choice but to gulp down the foul-tasting drink.
Odaldi took several more ingredients out of the bag but then stopped, concerned. “These jars were full this morning, but now—” He examined each jar in turn. “Now there’s only about a quarter of each ingredient left. I don’t understand.”
Della Porta frowned. “Can you, or can’t you, still an elixir to get her through the gas?”
“Well yes, I can,” Odaldi said, “but with the quantities remaining I can’t guarantee that the effects will last any more than seven or eight hours at most.”
“Give her enough now to keep her going for six hours,” said Della Porta, “and put the rest into an additional, emergency dose that she can take with her just in case.”
Odaldi proceeded to create a potent black cocktail, which he handed to Chrymos. “Six hours, no more,” he told her.
While Chrymos swallowed the elixir, Odaldi created a separate mixture, and poured it into a vial for her to carry with her. He added in one additional ingredient. “To preserve its potency until you need it,” he explained as he handed over the vial to Chrymos. She stowed the emergency vial in one of the pockets of her tunic dress.
“Thank you, Doctor,” said Della Porta. “Did you bring what she needs so that she can see down there?”
Odaldi nodded, retrieved two containers from his bag, and handed them over to the Master. “Either of these should provide the necessary light.”
“Many thanks, Doctor, you can go now,” said Della Porta. Odaldi gathered up his bag and left, though not without another glare at the tablet-destroyer.
“Now let’s get started,” said Della Porta. He took a flaming torch from the foyer and then led the way down past the kitchen and into the very basement of the Academy.
In the flickering flame, Chrymos could see that the sides of the basement were just tightly-packed earth—and what appeared to be the entrance to a tunnel had been roughly dug into one corner. A shiver of fear ran through her as she realized that the Master expected her to enter the tunnel.
“It leads to the catacombs,” said Della Porta. “Public access to the catacombs is limited because the tombs have been looted so often over recent centuries. We realized ten years ago that we needed to have our own entrance so that we could come and go when no-one else is around. Don’t worry,” he said, seeing Chrymos’ reaction, “the tunnel is perfectly safe, we’ve sent many people through here over the years. You need to go about four hundred varas and then you’ll find yourself at the second level of the catacombs. It’s lucky that you’re small, though,” he added, “I’m told the tunnel is very narrow in a few places. A few landslips over the years, nothing much to worry about.”
Clearly, you haven’t been through there, not when there are plenty of flunkies you can send to their doom instead. Chrymos tried to gulp down her panic and focus on the instructions she was being given by Carracci.
“When you emerge from the tunnel,” said the priest, “you’ll find yourself in one of the family tombs on the second level. Try not to disturb any bones as you make your way out to the main corridor.” Carracci gave a half-grimace to suggest he was joking. “Then turn left, straight down the main passageway until you come to the steps leading downwards. After that, follow the instructions in the manuscript.”
Della Porta handed the flaming torch to Chrymos. He also gave her a small vial filled with the same glowing red powder that Chrymos had used to good effect in Doctor Odaldi’s laboratory. “You won’t be able to use the torch once you get to the section with the poison gases,” said the Master, “so that’s when you will need the powder.” Chrymos stuffed the vial into a pocket of her tunic.
“And you’re already familiar with this, I believe,” noted the Master, handing over another small container, this one housing a familiar strip of metal. “The red powder may not be sufficient once you get inside the angel’s tomb. You may need the very bright light that this can create, so that you can see—” The Master finished his sentence weakly, not wanting to say too much. “—whatever treasures the angel’s tomb may have for us.”
Chrymos nodded and slipped the container into her tunic pocket as well
Finally, Della Porta held up a small mechanical device.
“This is called a timepiece. We liberated it from the craftsman who made its cousin for Cosimo de’ Medici”, said Della Porta. “Observe—it has a strip of metal, a ‘hand’ that moves. It takes precisely one hour for the hand to travel from one number to the next. If you’re not back here with what’s in the tomb—or at least the manuscript—before that hand touches the VI, then your elixir will run out and you’ll choke to death down there.” The single hand on the miraculous timepiece had just left the XII.
Chrymos placed the curious device into her pocket beside the other items. Then with great trepidation, she bent over double and eased into the tunnel. In one hand she clutched the spluttering torch that threatened alternately to burn her or to choke her with its foul-smelling smoke whilst her other hand kept a tight grip on her belt and the manuscript that might spell the difference between death and survival.
NINETY-SIX
The Academy of Secrets, Naples, Kingdom of Naples, Midnight, Tuesday June 22 1610
Della Porta and Carracci watched her go.
“You don’t really expect her to come out of there alive, do you?” said Carracci. “Hardly anyone else has, in all the years we’ve been sending students into that death-trap. And no-one has ever found the tomb.”
Della Porta shrugged. “Stefani believes that Chrymos has the best chance of anyone we’ve ever sent. Perhaps she does, after all she did manage to translate the manuscript and identify many traps that we simply didn’t know about.”
He crossed to the basement exit. “If she succeeds, if she brings back whatever treasure that the tomb is protecting—”
“—then, according to the prophecy, that will trigger the Lost War.” Carracci completed the sentence. “And if not, we’re well rid of one troublesome student.” Carracci followed Della Porta out the door and they proceeded up the steps. “What do you want me to do about her precious children?”
“Oh, put them back into the Plague project, at least then they can be of some use,” said Della Porta. “Don’t waste any more time on lazzaroni. We need to get the next phase of our plans underway. Has Odaldi developed an immunity pill yet?”
“He tells me he’s very close,” said Carracci. “It could be days, it could be hours.”
“Good,” said Della Porta. “In the meantime, let’s get ready for the Outcast Angels.”
NINETY-SEVEN
The Tunnel from the Academy of Secrets, Naples, Kingdom of Naples, 12.05 a.m. Wednesday June 23 1610
The tunnel between the Academy and the catacombs was poorly constructed, largely unsupported except in a few places where planks of wood and columns of bricks had been employed to bolster particularly unstable ground.
The tunnel was barely wide enough for one person to squeeze through and for much of its length required Chrymos to crawl and wriggle rather than walk. It was the perfect punishment for a claustrophobe and only the knowledge that others had successfully passed through the tunnel kept Chrymos from a total panic meltdown as she agonized through the tight passage. That did not stop her from imagining the worst. What if the tunnel has collapsed since Adric went through? What if the Master lied to me again and no-one has been through the tunnel in years? What a way to go—buried alive, with no
chance to save the children!
Despite her fears, Chrymos pushed forward. Her right hand was stretched out in front of her, clutching the flaming, smoking torch, whilst her left hand held the manuscript close to her body. She propelled herself forward mostly using her knees and her right elbow. It made for slow going.
After Chrymos had been crawling through her living nightmare for what felt like an eternity—but must have been no more than an hour at most—she came to a complete standstill. It wasn’t because the passage was blocked—it was still tight-going, though no more so than it had been for most of the journey—but rather because she had become totally overwhelmed by her fears.
No more. I can’t do this. Surely, the children would understand? Adric, he will. He knows how I feel about being trapped underground.
For a long moment, Chrymos lay there, paralyzed by fear and doubt. Eventually, brutal realization set in. I will die here. I can’t turn around, I can’t go back. If I don’t go forward—but I can’t, I just can’t.
She bent her head. Father God, you know what I am facing. It’s too much for me. I cannot cope. Help me, Almighty Lord. Send me a sign so that I know what I should do.
Silence at first. But then Chrymos coughed. She coughed because some of the smoke from the torch blew into her face.
Wonderful. Now I’m going to choke to death.
It took a few moments for Chrymos to realize what had happened. For most of her journey through the tunnel the smoke from the torch had blown away from her, fanned by the air coming from behind, from the Academy. If the smoke is now being blown towards me, then I must be getting close to the catacombs. Halleluiah!
Chrymos offered grateful thanks to the Father as she scrabbled forward. Now that it seemed that her destination might be within reach, she was able to dampen down her fears and get moving again. More and more smoke blew towards her as the fresh air coming from the catacombs grew stronger—but now she happily coughed and spluttered, regarding every puff of smoke as a milestone bringing her closer to her goal.
Finally, she reached the end of the tunnel and emerged into the Catacombs of San Gennaro.
NINETY-EIGHT
In the skies above Naples, Kingdom of Naples, 12.30 a.m. Wednesday June 23 1610
The grossly overweight blob that was the Darke Warrior Chosek was on surveillance duty above the city of Naples, and none too happy about that task, even though his ability to see in the dark made Chosek the obvious choice. His black leathery wings struggled to propel his oversized body over the city as Chosek watched for any stealthy nighttime attacks on the Academy.
Even when Chosek was just another angel in Heaven, he tended to over-indulge—and since he became a Darke Warrior, Chosek had really let himself go. He had always been short, five foot two inches when barefoot, but since the Rebellion, he was best known for his extreme gluttony. Like angels, demons have no need for physical food—they draw their power and their sustenance from the radiation emanating from the sun. Chosek alas had double-dipped, drawing energy not only from solar radiation but also from the souls of those trapped in Hades—and then doing very little with that energy. The inevitable result: an overweight, unattractive little demon, out of condition and prone to sweat and complain whenever his duties required him to exert himself in the slightest.
Chosek bombarded Nekhbet with yet another question.
Nekhbet interrupted him.
NINETY-NINE
The Catacombs of San Gennaro, Naples, Kingdom of Naples, 1.00 a.m. Wednesday June 23 1610
The tunnel opened into an arcosolium, a family tomb within one of the upper levels of the catacombs. From there, Chrymos found herself in one of the main corridors. She was delighted to discover that the corridors in these catacombs were far wider than she had expected—a blessed relief after the constrictions of the tunnel. This level of the catacombs, she belatedly recalled from the manuscript, had been constructed from an old stone quarry, dug out by highly skilled workers known as fossores. They used picks to carve corridors and chambers out of the soft Naples rock.
Chrymos stood for a moment, stretching out her body and breathing in the fresh night air. The Catacomb’s upper levels were punctured at regular intervals by luminaria, shafts that extended from the surface down to the catacombs to provide light and fresh air.
She reached into her pocket for the timepiece. Its hand had moved and now pointed to the I. One hour gone—no time to waste. She stuffed the device back into her pocket, brushed the worst of the dirt off her tunic, and began her search in earnest.
As Father Carracci had instructed, Chrymos turned left and proceeded down the main corridor until she came to a set of steps leading downwards. According to the manuscript, she needed to go down two levels—but the steps would only take her down one. To descend any further, she needed to look for Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego.
The manuscript had been typically cryptic at this point, simply containing a reference to Chapter Three of the Book of Daniel. Because of her memory loss, Chrymos was unsure what the chapter contained. Fortunately, Della Porta did have a bible in his office—doesn’t look like he’s ever used it, she noted to herself—and Chrymos soon found the scriptural reference, to three young men who had been thrown into a fiery furnace but emerged unharmed. Now all I have to do is find an inscription or some other item on this level that links to the bible story.
Flaming torch held high, Chrymos walked through the lower level of the catacombs as she dared. She ignored the loculi, the basic graves which were little more than slots in the wall, and focused her attention on the more elaborate arcosolia. These larger burial chambers, usually housing Naples’ wealthier citizens, often bore friezes illustrating Christian images—although the oldest, dating back to the years of persecution in the third and fourth centuries after Christ, were less transparently Christian and instead used traditional Roman icons such as grapevines or peacocks.
When Chrymos finally walked past the burial chamber for which she had been searching, she didn’t recognize it at first.
She had been expecting some sort of illustration of three men surrounded by flames. Instead, the chamber carried a wall painting depicting three birds perched on a nest of fire, while a fourth bird flew above, wings outstretched.
Oh, that’s clever, gasped Chrymos once she had interpreted what she saw. Three phoenixes—a classic Roman icon signaling death and rebirth—representing the three men untouched by the fire, while the fourth represents the angel. To Roman eyes, it’s a typical grave emblem—but to Christians it’s a celebration. And for me it’s a pointer.
Chrymos climbed over the small wall that bordered the burial chamber and headed to the marble slab on top of the sarcophagus in the center. She carefully laid the manuscript down on the floor and then propped up the torch against one wall of the burial chamber.
Wish I still had the gauntlets, Chrymos grumbled, as she struggled to push the slab across, to uncover whatever was inside the sarcophagus.
Once she had started the slab moving, however, it slid smoothly across, pivoting around on one corner. It’s obviously been designed as an entry point that many people can use, probably so that Christians could secretly visit the martyrs’ graves during the persecution years.
Chrymos peered down into the sarcophagus. The tomb simply contained a set of stone steps leading downwards.
And then she noticed the gas billowing up through the sarcophagus towards her.
ONE HUNDRED
The Catacombs of San Gennaro, Naples, Kingdom of Naples, 1.30 a.m. Wed
nesday June 23 1610
Chrymos reacted quickly, sliding the slab back into place. That stopped most of the gas from pouring out and contaminating the air around her, giving Chrymos valuable time to think.
First, she took the timepiece out of her tunic pocket and held it near the torch. The hand is halfway between the I and the II. That’s good enough.
Next, Chrymos retrieved the manuscript and placed it flat on top of the sarcophagus slab. Then she retrieved the torch and held it close while she flipped through the relevant pages of the manuscript. This is the last chance I’m going to get to use the torch so I’d better re-read this while I can.
Chrymos spent about ten minutes refreshing her knowledge from the manuscript and then, reluctantly, left the torch propped up against the wall. Here we go.
She picked up the manuscript, flattened it out, and slipped it between her belt and her body. Then, breathing what might be her last gasp of fresh air, Chrymos again pushed hard until the slab slid open.
Again, the gas began to pour out. Chrymos was ready. She swung herself over the side of the sarcophagus and reached down with her right foot until she touched the top step. Let’s see how good this elixir is.
Chrymos slipped down onto the steps and began climbing down, holding her breath as she did so.
The moment that her leading foot touched the fifth step, Chrymos heard a grinding sound above her. The slab was sliding shut—and the last faint light from the torch was quickly disappearing.
ONE HUNDRED AND ONE
The Catacombs of San Gennaro, Naples, Kingdom of Naples, 1.45 a.m. Wednesday June 23 1610
Before she could start to panic, Chrymos hurried thrust her right hand into her tunic pocket and—when her questing fingers found the glass vial they sought—she breathed a deep sigh of relief.
Academy of Secrets: From the Outcast Angels Christian Fantasy & Science Fiction series Page 25