Della Porta wearily waved away the twin. Once the telepath had left his office, the Master of the Academy turned to his wife. “Any more news on the Outcasts?”
The Contessa shook her head. “Nekhbet has one of her demons watching above us, but he hasn’t reported any movements yet. We’re probably safe enough until dawn, but then we can expect an attack for sure.”
“Then we’d better start getting those plague-hosts ready for travel. My dear, please advise Doctor Odaldi that he has—” Odaldi looked up at the clock on his wall. “—no more than three hours remaining with the hosts. If he can’t complete his pill by then, we’ll have to launch the Plague project without it.”
ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHT
Catacombs of San Gennaro, Naples, Kingdom of Naples, 2.25 a.m. Wednesday June 23 1610
Chrymos might have fallen then, with one of the creatures grasping her ankle. She kicked backwards. Perhaps her desperation put enough power into her kick. More likely, it was the creature’s greatly weakened condition after being entombed for so long with minimal food and water. Whatever the cause, Chrymos managed to successfully dislodge its grip and pull her foot away.
Free at least for the moment, Chrymos scrambled up the rock, to the ledge that was her interim destination. She took a deep breath in relief, and then had to fight off a coughing fit as once again the poison gas forcefully reminded her of its presence.
Once she was settled, standing on the ledge, Chrymos pulled the powder vial out of her pocket. She shook the vial briskly and then used the ensuing light to gain a better view of the creatures below.
Two of them were pawing away ineffectually at the wall, as if attempting to climb, and Chrymos almost felt sorry for them—until she noticed what appeared to be red blood stains around each creature’s mouth.
For a heartbeat, she panicked, thinking that the blood must be Adric’s—then she remembered that he had left his mark on the passage she was about to enter. If what I’m seeing on their faces is Adric’s blood, hopefully he isn’t badly hurt, she told herself, though with little conviction.
Leaving the creatures milling around below, Chrymos returned the vial to her pocket and then—as slowly and carefully as she dared—inched along the narrow ledge towards the marked entrance. Her head was half turned, her cheek pressed hard against the rock. Both her arms were fully extended, with each hand doing its best to cling to the surface of the wall.
Behind her back, she could almost feel the creatures watching her pitiful progress, willing her to fall, salivating at every stumble. Once or twice, as she rested her weight on her injured right leg, she nearly did tumble.
Finally, her outstretched left arm found the edge of the target passageway and she was able to pull herself across to relative safety in front of the entrance that Adric had marked.
Chrymos paused, listening. I assume that Adric has marked this as the correct entrance, but I still should listen for the noises that the manuscript suggested.
At first, she couldn’t hear anything. Then, as she focused, she thought that she could hear a low buzz, as if of people talking. Am I truly hearing that, she wondered, or am I simply imagining it?
Once again, Chrymos removed the vial from her pocket and shook it, awakening a fresh glow. She held the vial out at arms’ length in front of her, but saw only a plain passageway, receding into the distance. There are no obvious signs of booby-traps, but then there wouldn’t be, would there?
She took one limping step inside the entrance, fearing the worst but praying for the best.
ONE HUNDRED AND NINE
Catacombs of San Gennaro, Naples, Kingdom of Naples, 2.33 a.m. Wednesday June 23 1610
The noise seemed slightly louder. Chrymos chanced another step and was rewarded with a further increase in volume. More importantly, her actions triggered no traps.
Chrymos patted the manuscript, still held firmly in place by her belt. Thank you, unknown genius, your story continues to serve me well, I seem to have survived the third protection. And thank you Adric, wherever you are, you just saved my life.
She took several more limping steps into the passage, and the noise grew in intensity. Definitely angry voices, she decided. The noise seemed to be coming from somewhere up ahead.
Finally satisfied that the passage she had chosen was the correct one, Chrymos stepped up her pace as best she could, trying to avoid putting too much weight onto her right leg. Half-limping, half-dragging her injured foot, she forced herself along the corridor, which seemed to have a slight downward incline. As she progressed, she found that the passageway was becoming very damp, with little pools of water dotted along the ground.
With every step that Chrymos took, the noise grew louder around her. Soon it was almost a roar, yet there was no obvious cause.
Chrymos grew more anxious as the path began to wind around itself as if in a spiral. Where is this taking me? Still, with known perils behind her and with time running short, she had little choice but to proceed. The noise continued to increase in intensity.
The passage continued to curve around and then abruptly opened into a large circular chamber. Chrymos followed into the central part of the chamber, where the path stopped abruptly, forcing her to do likewise.
She held up the glowing red vial as high above her head as she could and inspected her surroundings, turning in place as she looked for possible exits.
Apart from the passageway that had brought Chrymos here, she could see no other exits. The chamber was like the inside of a bowl, with smooth sides all around. Did I miss a side-passage that I should have taken?
Chrymos fished the timepiece out of her pocket and groaned aloud when she saw its face. Three-quarters of the way to the third hour.
Her options were dwindling as well. This chamber appears to be a dead end.
Chrymos resolved to retrace her steps, searching for an alternative exit. She put away the timepiece and then, with the aid of her glowing vial, began to climb out of the chamber, limping back to the passageway. She had gone a few tentative steps when she stood on something that moved under her left foot.
There was a click, and then a mighty rumble. A series of stone blocks began to slide out from one side of the chamber, creating a stepped effect from floor to ceiling. Then huge volumes of water began cascading down from a newly revealed hole in the ceiling, bouncing angrily off the stone blocks. The torrent of water thundered towards Chrymos.
ONE HUNDRED AND TEN
Catacombs of San Gennaro, Naples, Kingdom of Naples, 2.45 a.m. Wednesday June 23 1610
With her damaged right foot, Chrymos had few options. She braced herself for the impact as best she could. The first wave smashed into her, knocking her off her feet, and then pushing her along as the seemingly endless torrents of water rushed to fill the bowl that the chamber had become.
She instantly became a mere passenger, tossed around in this maelstrom like a twig and her mind conjured up the horrific drowning memories from her nightmares. Were those dreams prophetic warnings?
Chrymos had little time for such thoughts. Around and around the water swirled and Chrymos felt herself starting to be pulled under by the powerful current. She struggled mightily to keep her head above the furiously-boiling surface. If I go under, I’m dead.
Chrymos still clutched the glowing vial in her right hand but as often as not that hand was being sucked underwater, muting the effectiveness of the light. Even so, she caught occasional glimpses of the series of four-foot-square stone blocks that protruded from one side of the otherwise smooth chamber, the water pouring down from somewhere in the ceiling and then ricocheting from one block down to another. Already the lowest block was completely submerged and the water level continued to rise very rapidly. If I can grab hold of one of those blocks, she told herself, perhaps I can climb out of this.
It was the only idea that seemed to hold any promise, so Chrymos attempted to make it happen. With great difficulty, she managed to stow the vial within her tunic. Then with both ha
nds free, she began to fight through the currents towards the walls. Chrymos was still being tossed around and around in the turbulent waters but hoped that as she was driven past the blocks, she could somehow cling on to an edge.
That idea was nearly her downfall. With the vial stowed away inside her clothing, Chrymos could see very little. Consequently, even though she managed to reach the periphery of the water, she was still borne along by its circular motion. She found herself thrown against the side of the lowest block of stone before the relentless current scraped her off again.
Chrymos wasn’t badly hurt but the impact drove the air from her lungs. For a moment, she thought she would surely drown as she struggled to get above the raging torrent.
From deep within herself, Chrymos found a reserve of extra strength and managed to push herself enough to get her head out of water and gulp down a couple of mouthfuls of that foul air.
She prayed for divine guidance as she struck out once more for the walls of her aquatic prison, extending her left hand in an effort to snag an edge of the block she had targeted.
As soon as her fingers touched the stone edge, Chrymos wrapped her body around the block and hung on desperately. Inch by inch she pulled herself along the block until she had reached the next, higher block. She found a firm handhold on one of the eroded edges of this block and finally was able to pull herself mostly out of the fast-flowing current. She still had to avoid the water cascading down from above but at least Chrymos was now able to regain her footing.
ONE HUNDRED AND ELEVEN
Catacombs of San Gennaro, Naples, Kingdom of Naples, 2.55 a.m. Wednesday June 23 1610
At last, Chrymos had a moment to think. Again, she fished the glowing vial out of her tunic and used it to inspect her surroundings. From this vantage point, she could see that the whole chamber below had clearly been designed to create a dangerous water trap. No obvious exits at ground level.
Chrymos looked upward. The water still poured steadily through a large hole in the ceiling high above. An underground river, she decided, that gets diverted to become the fourth protection.
She checked her timepiece again, grimacing when she saw that it was nearly at the third hour. Not much time left. I doubt that it will be enough to complete my mission and return to the Academy.
With no other options evident, Chrymos began climbing from block to block, moving ever higher. There were a half-dozen blocks still to climb, each about four feet in height, so the task was achievable but taxing, especially whilst she was nursing her right foot and actively trying to avoid the dancing, splashing water.
Eventually, Chrymos was able to reach the highest of the blocks, which took her to a few feet below the ceiling. To her great relief, Chrymos saw that stretching out from the top of the block was a dark passageway. There is a way out of here! Praise the Lord!
Chrymos took a few limping steps into the passageway and then stopped in horror. Again, she had stepped on some secret trigger. Again, there was a mighty rumble.
This time, the noise came from behind. Chrymos turned, and watched in wonder as hidden mechanisms began to close off the flow of water and the stone blocks began to recede into the chamber walls. Far below, she could hear the water begin to drain away, as the trap re-set itself to await its next victim.
Chrymos’ clothing was soaked, so she took a moment to squeeze out as much water as she could, although in truth she achieved very little—her tunic dress still clung to her body, chilling her.
Then, with a gasp, Chrymos touched the manuscript and realized that it too was sodden. She lifted it away from her body and placed it carefully on the ground, then sat down in the passageway next to the precious document.
Propping the glowing vial against the passage wall, Chrymos began to inspect the manuscript. The outside covers were soaked but the inner pages, though often stuck together at the edges, seemed to have escaped relatively unscathed. She turned the pages one by one, where necessary gently separating them from their companions. I don’t have time for this, she acknowledged to herself, but I may need to refer to the book urgently later.
Nearly at the end of the manuscript, she found two pages that seemed even more sealed together than the rest—not merely at one edge but at three edges. She spent several minutes painstakingly working a fingernail between the pages. Eventually, she was able to separate those pages—to discover a hidden section that no-one must have seen since the manuscript was first created.
With mounting excitement, she began to read.
ONE HUNDRED AND TWELVE
Catacombs of San Gennaro, Naples, Kingdom of Naples, 3.15 a.m. Wednesday June 23 1610
“There is a portion of the Book of the Dead,” declared the author of the manuscript, “that I have been unable to read. It is in a language completely unknown to me. From the information provided elsewhere, I believe that this section reveals what great or terrible thing is to be found buried with the angel.
“I have carefully copied the unknown symbols here, so that those who come after me, if they have the knowledge, may be able to decipher the passage and discover the secret.
“However, because I cannot trust that this manuscript will remain in safe hands, it is my intention to seal these pages so that none will see their contents except those to whom God chooses to reveal His mysteries.”
Below that introduction, Chrymos could see the copied characters. Thanks to her Exousía-gifted powers, Chrymos could translate the words easily.
“To my Brothers in Judas, glorious greetings,” wrote the long-dead author of the original Book of the Dead. “I write these words in the hope that this report will get safely into your hands. This portion I have written in our own secret tongue so that our Brotherhood alone will learn what treasure lies within the angel’s tomb.
“I have assembled these facts at great personal cost, after seducing two of the Roman soldiers who removed the body of the angel from the battlefield and after plying Bishop Januarius himself with enough wine that he answered my questions. My efforts lead me to believe that the tomb contains a glowing blue gem that enables the wearer to travel instantly from one place to another.”
Chrymos sat up, stunned. Was that the ‘pathgem’ that was on Della Porta’s list? No wonder he wants to find the tomb. Such a weapon would grant power beyond belief.
The spy’s report continued. “I understand that one of the Darke Warriors was using the gem until he was stopped and killed by the angel. I beg you, do not tell the Darke Warriors where the gem is, they will want it for themselves. There are so many ways that we can use the gem for our own cause, before eventually we may be forced to hand it back to them.”
With that, the report ended. Chrymos turned the page, but there was nothing more.
I have to get the pathgem to Della Porta before he will release the children. But I just can’t let him have the pathgem, it’s too powerful. What am I going to do?
It was all too much for Chrymos, especially with time running out. She wedged the manuscript back inside her belt and stood up. Right now, I have to keep going and try to find the tomb. If I do find the pathgem, that’s when I’ll decide what to do with it.
The journey through the rest of the passageway was uneventful, for which Chrymos was undeniably grateful. By now, she was feeling the effect of so many hours without sleep, despite the medication that Odaldi had so grudgingly given her—and the snake venom began to reassert itself as well. Chrymos’ head was starting to pound and she could feel her leg muscles protesting as the poison attacked anew.
I am so weary, Lord. What other challenges do you have for me before I can rescue Adric and free the children?
Chrymos’ question was abruptly answered, not necessarily in a manner she would like, when she limped around a corner and found a large waterfall blocking her path. Water gushed down from above and into a large crevasse that spanned the entire passageway.
ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTEEN
Catacombs of San Gennaro, Naples, Kingdom of Nap
les, 3.30 a.m. Wednesday June 23 1610
Is this where the river normally empties out, wondered Chrymos, when it isn’t diverted into that chamber?
Then she realized that she was asking the wrong question. What I need to know, she decided, is how wide that crevasse is and whether the passageway continues on the other side.
There was no easy way to find out. The manuscript hadn’t even mentioned the waterfall. Unless there are other secret pages, I’ll find no help there.
Chrymos tried to reason out her options. Surely, this whole elaborate scheme is designed to allow the chosen people to enter the tomb? So there must be some means of passing through. All I have to do is find it.
Then she had another thought. What was that quote from the Divine Comedy?
She retrieved the manuscript once again and thumbed through her notes until she found the right reference. ‘By other ways, by other ports thou to the shore shalt come, not here, for passage; a lighter vessel needs must carry thee.’ What does that even mean? And is the quotation talking about this waterfall, or about the earlier trap?
She referred to the timepiece once more. Three and a half hours gone.
Chrymos was sorely tempted simply to take a running jump through the falling water, hoping to connect with a passageway on the other side. That’s what I would usually do. But with this limp, I can’t exactly run. Perhaps I can try to jump from the edge of the precipice.
With so much depending on her choice, Chrymos hesitated. And thought, long and hard. If the Divine Comedy is actually referring to this waterfall, then I guess the message is straightforward—this isn’t the right path. So where do I find ‘other ways’ and ‘a lighter vessel’? There weren’t any forks in the passage I’ve just been through.
Academy of Secrets: From the Outcast Angels Christian Fantasy & Science Fiction series Page 27