Devil's Sea a-3

by Robert Doherty

  “You foolish man,” she murmured as the fog enveloped him. Her heart was heavy as he disappeared, because she saw not the old man, but the young, strapping warrior Nectarios had been when she first met him. He’d been her lover for many years, but they had never had a child, a fact she had taken as an omen that the end of her line was near, as she knew it was not Nectario’s fault, but rather that her womb was barren. She had spent many a long day pondering what that fate meant. Now she knew.

  She staggered as she sensed Nectarios dying, a feeling that cut through to the bone, and then was gone, just as quickly. She stood, facing the approaching fog. It swept over the beach, and her skin crawled from the feel of it.

  Something came out of the fog and came to a halt just in front of her, two feet above the pebbles. She saw the hard white skin and stared into the unblinking red eyes.

  “You are too late, demon,” she said bravely. “They had been here and gone.”

  She was uncertain whether it had heard her as a second, similar creature floated out of the fog and joined the first. This one held up it’s claws, and blood slowly dripped from them. She knew that was Nectarios’ blood. At least he had died swiftly, she thought.

  She could sense the creatures, and it wasn’t specifically evil that she picked up but rather something so alien that evil wasn’t even a concept to them. She realized suddenly that she was as much a thing to them as they were to her.

  She saw a claw come up, holding a thin spear. As the probe shot forward toward her, she blocked it with her right hand, the metal punching entirely through, the tip sticking out of the other side.

  “They’re gone!” she screamed as she curled her fingers around the probe, trying to hold on to it, as the Valkryie reeled it back to the launching tube. She staggered as she was pulled toward the creature. Her fingers were sliced to the bone as the probe was pulled out, despite her best efforts, and reloaded.

  The second Valkryie was behind her, claws grabbing her shoulders, cutting the skin as it tried to hold her still as the first aimed the tube at her head once more.

  “They will kill you,” the oracle said, then spat at the creature.

  The probe hit her in the forehead, slicing through her brain and lodging there.

  * * *

  Falco stood and looked about. There was a depression in the table, human-sized. Nearby, he could see a shaft stuck into a slot, the top consisting of seven snake heads, intricately carved, as the old oracle had told them. He reached for it and pulled, but it didn’t move. He closed his eyes for a second, then opened them. He twisted and then pulled up, and the staff came free, revealing a fine blade on the other end. He hefted it. Light, very light. In the gladiator school he had been trained on all weapons, including the javelin and the thrusting spear along with bow, net, trident — every device used in the arena or in war. For the first time since Vesuvius had erupted, he smiled as his hands curled around the haft of the weapon. He intuitively knew this was the most powerful killing tool he had ever wielded.

  “Ah!” Kaia spun about, the skull cradled against her chest. “They are above. They have the oracle.”

  “Who?” Falco asked.

  “The Valkyries. Two of them. She cannot stop them. They will know we are here.”

  “Then let us go and confront them.” Falco began going down the pyramid stairs, taking them two at a time. He paused halfway down. A river of red was pouring into the chamber, boiling up through a crack at the base of the pyramid below him. Kaia and Cassius joined him, and they continued down, feeling the heat, watching the river widen from a foot to two feet.

  They reached the last step. The river of lava was five feet wide and still growing. The heat was almost unbearable. Falco turned and grabbed the general and without a word threw him through the air, clearing the lava and falling in tumble on the far side. Falco looked at Kaia.

  “Ready?”

  She nodded. He held out the staff, and she grabbed the haft near the Naga heads he had it near the blade. “Go!” he yelled and they both jumped. He landed, rolling and coming to his feet, Kaia at his side.

  “Hurry!” General Cassius was waving at them from the tunnel entrance.

  * * *

  The oracle’s last thought was that she had failed as she looked up at her body still being held by one of the Valkyries as the blood drained from her severed head lying on the beach. She blinked once, twice, then the eyes clouded over.

  The first Valkyrie reached down and picked up the now lifeless head and crushed it, tossing the mangled remains into the water. Then they floated into the fog, heading toward Palaia Kameni.

  * * *

  The glow from the skull being carried by Kaia silhouetted Falco as he moved up the tunnel. His shadow was long, bouncing off the walls in front of him. He was focused on what lay ahead, all his senses alert. He probed with his mind, but there was nothing.

  The light changed, and Falco risked a glance behind him. Red filled the tunnel behind them, the lava coming after them, channeled into the narrow space, accelerating.

  He tucked the staff under one arm as he wiped the sweat off his hands on the tail of his tunic that stuck out from underneath his breastplate. It was as hot as Hades in the tunnel, and he staggered as the ground shook once more. He spared another glance over his shoulder and saw that Kaia was right behind him, the general behind her, his sword drawn and in his good hand. The red glow was closer.

  Falco tried to remember how far they had gone down, but it was difficult to estimate, given they had traveled slowly in the dark. Sweat stung his eyes, and he swung his head back and forth like a wild beast, spraying sweat from his face.

  There was a light ahead, not daylight nor starlight, but something diffuse and obscene to Falco’s eyes. He tightened his grip on the staff and probed ahead with his mind. It was as if he could see two blocks of ice just outside the entrance to the tunnel. Cold, that was the aura of whatever waited; cold and uncaring.

  He paused. “General.”

  “Yes, Centurion?”

  “Guard her.”

  “I do not—“ Kaia began, but Falco shushed her.

  “There is nothing you can do against these things that wait for us.” He held up the Naga staff. “This is the only weapon we have against them, and I am the best trained to handle it. Wait here until I call.”

  Cassius looked back at the red glow. “We do not have much time.”

  Falco edged forward, feet spread in the fighting stance he’d been taught as a child. He could see out of the entrance now and noted the fog that covered the area. He could still sense the two cold spots, definitely not like anything he had ever faced before, and he had killed not only humans but every manner of beast in the arena. This was something completely new. They flanked the entrance, about ten feet back on either side. Always the pincer; it was the classic maneuver of a larger force. Falco had encountered it numerous times before.

  He knew there was only one way to face this threat, and that was to attack. It was a lesson that had been pounded into him by his various lanistas over the years. When in doubt, attack. When surprised, attack. When desperate, attack. In the arena there was only one inevitable end to the defense: death.

  He gathered himself, then dashed forward out of the tunnel onto the hillside, and spun to the right. But there was nothing there. As he tried to adjust, he realized his opponent was above the hillside, floating in the air, coming in for a strike. He could also sense the danger closing from behind, He had a brief glimpse of a figure covered in white armor, red eyes, then he jabbed, missed, and rolled downslope, taking the impact of the rocks and ground and letting his body absorb the blows.

  He hit the beach and rolled to his feet at the ready. The two Valkyries were coming toward him, ten feet between them, hands glittering with sharp extensions on each of the fingers. Falco tucked the haft of the staff under his left arm, blade forward, and drew his sword from across his body with his left. He knew from the words of the oracle that it could not hurt the
se creatures, but he needed it to protect himself.

  They attacked. He jabbed at the one on the left and backed the one-handed slash of the one on the right with his sword, feeling the impact through the blade, up his arm. He staggered back. The metal was chipped where it had been hit. Falco growled and turned as they circled him. He could not sense their intentions as he could in the arena with more earthly opponents, only their cold presence. That, combined with their ability to hover and the sloping ground, put him at a distinct disadvantage. His military training had taught him that the army that controlled the high ground had the advantage, so he rushed upslope at the Valkryie closest to him.

  He thrust with the staff, and the Valkyrie parried it with a slap of a clawed hand. Then it emitted a noise such as he had never heard, a scream that cut through his brain, the pain doubled as the other one added its own inhuman yell.

  Falco jabbed again, and as the Valkryie slapped, he pulled back on the haft of the staff and pivoted with all his strength, directing the edge of the blade at the hand. The edge caught right at the wrist and sliced neatly through, the clawed hand falling to the ground.

  Instead of blood, black steam issued from the stump, and the Valkryie screamed once more, but there was different timbre to this, one that gave Falco confidence, as it echoed of disbelief and pain. Falco’s feeling was short lived as he sensed the other creature right behind him. He spun, ducking down, just in time as the tips of razor-sharp claws, sliced along his armor in the back, then cut his shoulder, splitting skin.

  He stopped his slide with the Naga end of the staff, jamming it between two rocks on the slope, hands wrapped around the haft tightly, blade pointing up. The second Valkryie halted just short of splitting itself on the point.

  “Come on!” Falco yelled at it.

  The wounded Valkyrie joined the other, black still issuing out of the stump. As they came closer, Falco got to his feet, pulling on the staff. To his dismay, it didn’t move, the snakeheads jammed tight between the two rocks. He twisted and yanked to no avail. His sword was ten feet away where he had dropped it and the staff was useless.

  Falco let go of the staff and stood, hands raised, ready to fight the creatures bare-fisted. They closed on him, then paused and turned slightly. Falco saw what had caught their attention. Kaia and Cassius were in the mouth of the tunnel, silhouetted in red. The priestess had a long dagger in one hand, the skull covered in her robe in the other, while Cassius had his sword in his one good hand. They were yelling to attract the attention of the Valkyries. It worked. Both floated up the hill toward the two, leaving Falco. He cursed and rushed after them, scrambling up the slope, picking up his sword as he went.

  As the Valkyries closed on the tunnel opening, Kaia pulled aside the cloak, revealing the skull. It lit up the fog around it, and Falco could swear it was pushing the foul air away from it. The Valkyries stopped abruptly. With a chorus of screams, they rose up and retreated, moving back out to sea as the fog rapidly retreated also.

  Falco stopped his charge, watching the creatures disappear with the strange fog. Kaia and Cassius came down to his location. Behind them, lava began flowing out of the entrance of the tunnel.

  “You’re wounded,” Kaia said.

  Falco glanced at the cuts on his shoulder. “It’s nothing.”

  “It could be diseased from the creatures,” Kaia said. “We need to clean it.”

  “We need to get out of here,” Falco said, pointing at the lava now flowing down toward them. He turned and went down to the Naga staff, freeing it from between the rocks. As he passed, he also picked up the severed claw of the Valkryie, sticking it in his belt.

  He led the way to the boat, and they clambered aboard, Kaia covering the skull with her cloak once more. As Falco pushed off, he felt the ground shake again. Looking up, he could see what the smoke coming out of the top of Palaia Kameni was much greater than before, a thick, dark plume rising to the heavens. He hopped and grabbed one oar while Kaia took the other. They pulled, rumbling in the air giving them urgency.

  “Head for the opening,” Cassius ordered. “I ordered Captain Fabatus to put out to sea near there if there was any trouble, and it will be quicker than going over that ridge.”

  Falco adjusted the course of the boat, leaning into the oar.

  “What about the oracle?” Cassius asked as they passed the smaller island.

  “She’s dead,” Falco said. He glanced up and met Kaia’s eyes. He knew she had felt the old woman’s death deeper than he had. “Why are these things killing the oracles?”

  “They want to wipe us out,” Kaia send. “End the line of priestesses.”

  Falco gave up the conversation and concentrated on rowing. There was the sharp crack of an explosion behind them, and he looked back. A section of Palaia Kameni had collapsed, spewing dust into the air. Lava was flowing out of the tunnel and the destroyed area, heading down toward the water. Where it touched, there was an explosion of steam as heat fought liquid. Falco and Kaia strained hard at the oars, and even Cassius tried to help with his one good arm, splashing at the water.

  There was another explosion behind them, and they didn’t even bother to look. The boat lifted as a five-foot-high swell passed under them and headed out to sea. The wave gave them some momentum, and Falco risked a glace back, feeling a tremendous pressure in the back of his head. At that moment, the top of Palaia Kameni blew with a thunderous explosion. Rocks and dirt flew high into the air, and a fiery cloud came racing outward.

  “Over the side!” Falco screamed, emphasizing his point by tossing Kaia into the water with one thrust of his arm. He spun around and dove at Cassius, wrapping the general in his arms, and flying overboard. They hit the water, and the combined weight of Falco’s and Cassius’s armor took them under.

  Even as he sank, Falco looked up. He saw the bright sky disappear as the ash cloud swept overhead. Then he felt Cassius struggling in his arms, and he let go of the general as they both fought to get their breastplates off as they slowly sank. Both men had worn their amour almost every day of their life, so the routine was something that was ingrained. Falco’s fingers unbuckled and loosened, and in second his breastplate was off, plummeting to the bottom, He reached out and grabbed Cassius as the general got his off. Boulders hit water all around, racing by on their way to the bottom.

  Looking up, he could see the sky was not as dark. Falco kicked for the surface, feeling the air in his lungs turning bad. He surfaced and gagged, as he sucked in huge lungfuls of ash-filled air. Cassius surfaced next to him and began coughing. Falco saw Kaia’s head pop up near the side of the boat, and he swam over. He could see that the wood was singed. The sky was filled with the ash that was steadily spewing out of the volcano, but the superheated death cloud had passed.

  “How did you know to do that?” Kaia got out between coughs.

  “It just came to me,” Falco said as he climbed into the boat and reached down to give her a hand.

  Kaia got on board, and then they both helped Cassius. Kaia ripped strips of cloth from her cloak and gave them to the men. They tied these around their heads, covering their mouths, and then they resumed rowing. Behind them, the volcano was spewing a towering cloud of ash into the air, while lava flowed freely, hitting the water and turning it into steam.

  As they made it into the gap, they could see the galley off to the left, protected from the direct force of the volcano by the old caldera.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  THE PRESENT

  Dane could see a destroyer circling the perimeter below, the submersible on one side of the flight deck, already rigged to a crane, ready to be lowered. With a slight bounce, the helicopter landed, and Dane slid open the cargo bay door and got out, joined by Loomis. Foreman was waiting for them, wearing a one-piece black jumpsuit.

  “I’m going with you,” Foreman said to Dane.

  “But, sir—“ Loomis began, but Foreman cut him off.

  “Mr. Dane thinks I always send others in harm’s way,” For
eman said. “I thought I’d show him differently.”

  Dane knew that wasn’t quite true. Foreman wanted to go to the graveyard and search for his brother’s plane. Still, he felt no need to mention that in front of Loomis. Dane quickly changed into a similar black suit and rejoined Foreman on the deck. The hatches were open on the two spheres that made up the crew compartments of Deepflight, and the pilot and navigator were already on board. Dane followed Foreman up a small ladder and then down into the small sphere. The hatch was closed behind them and screwed shut.

  Dane lay down on the padded bottom of the sphere, ignoring Foreman, who was checking screens and gauges as if he had a clue how the thing operated. Dane closed his eyes and allowed his mind to roam, sensing the ocean around them as the submersible was lifted off the deck and lowered into the water. There was a jolt as the crane hook was released by divers. The nose of the submersible titled forward, and they were on their way.

  Dane picked up no threat in the immediate area. He closed his eyes and within a minute was asleep as Deepflight continued its long descent to the bottom of the world.

  He woke with a nudge of Foreman’s foot in his chest. “We’re at the door.”

  Dane looked over the CIA man’s shoulder at one of the video displays. The flat, black metal extended in all directions.

  “Any sign of activity in the gate?” Dane asked.

  “Nagoya is monitoring from the FLIP, and he’s picked up nothing.”

  Dane could see they were moving down along the wall. “How deep are we?”

  “Ten thousand, five hundred meters,” Foreman said. He tapped the screen and spoke into the headset he wore. “That’s it. Go in there.”

  A dark circle was in the center of the metal, exactly as it had been in the Milwaukee Deep in the Atlantic Ocean. It grew closer as the pilot directed them toward it. Dane felt the same strange sensation of disorientation as they passed through; then they were in.

  The submersible surfaced inside the huge chamber, exactly in the center. Dane waited calmly, Foreman not so relaxed, as the pilot prepared the craft to allow them to exit. Finally, the green light came on next to the hatch above their heads, and Foreman spun the handle, slowly unscrewing the hatch.