by Geonn Cannon
Trafalgar sighed. “There’s no way to talk you out of this, is there?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Then I suppose someone should be here to save your life. Again.” She bent down and retrieved her helmet. “Since I have more air in my tank, I’ll go get the case. You stay here and do nothing. I have no idea how long you were without oxygen before I revived you. Sit down against the wall and give yourself time to recover.”
Dorothy nodded. “Very well.” She was feeling a little woozy and sore. She walked to the wall and sat down carefully so she wouldn’t tear her suit on the stone. “Are you satisfied?”
“I wouldn’t go that far. But I’ll retrieve the case.”
“Thank you for indulging me.”
Trafalgar sighed and rolled her eyes. “Yes, yes. Perhaps I would have moved slower had I remembered what a pain you could be.”
Dorothy smiled as Trafalgar reattached her helmet and descended into the pool once more. When she was gone, Dorothy looked toward the antechamber. Now that she was alone, she closed her eyes and brought both hands up to her face. It had taken everything in her not to start shuddering while Trafalgar was there. Only the knowledge that she would be back soon kept her from screaming. She had died. She’d stopped breathing, floating alone in a room with no exit or entrance. She’d made peace with the fact she would never get out.
Surviving was almost cruel. She would never choose the alternative, and she would be forever in Trafalgar’s debt for what she had done. But she knew that she’d suffered a trauma that might take a good long while to get over.
Dorothy wiped at her eyes and composed herself so Trafalgar wouldn’t notice anything odd when she returned. She was terrified that her idea wouldn’t work and she would find herself trapped on the other side of the antechamber. But at the moment the risk of dying wasn’t scary to her. She needed to take the risk before she got too accustomed to her survival.
If she was going to come that close to death, then she was damn sure going to use it to her advantage.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Beatrice tried to focus on the pain that had pulled her back to consciousness, but her mind kept drifting back to the tattoo she’d seen on Virago’s shoulders. Dov had told her there were other elementals. Did that make Virago her sister? A cousin? Should they be allies or enemies? Dov had intimated that the four elementals joining forces could only have bad consequences, so maybe they should avoid each other at all costs for the sake of the world.
Huey and Bert were watching her now that she was awake. She knew they were waiting for her to give some sort of signal, or to indicate she had a plan, but she was at a loss. Virago’s power was at least equal to her own, and that was only when she was at full power. Now she was weak from the fight, from being knocked unconscious, and from the energy-sapping cuffs she was wearing. She was as helpless as anyone else aboard the ship.
“What is taking them so long?” Virago asked. She had taken to pacing the length of the bridge while her associate - Captain Baker, apparently - kept an eye on the controls.
“Can’t tell. They have a radio, but they haven’t used it.”
Beatrice said, “Of course not. They know you’re up here. They’re probably down there conspiring.”
Virago said, “They can conspire all they want. The fact is that I have them at a disadvantage once they reach the surface. I could cut them loose right now. The only reason I haven’t done it already is because I need their submersible. Once I have it, their lives will rely on what they can tell me about what they found. Hopefully it will be enough to justify not killing them.”
“What do you have to gain from killing them?” Bert said. “They obviously beat you here. Can’t you just let it go? Admit defeat?”
Beatrice said, “It’s not that simple, Bert. She’s looking to fund an army. Lady Boone and Trafalgar are two of only a handful of people who know where this site is. If she kills them all, it can be her personal bank account. No worries about historical societies or preservation. Just dive down, rip out some antiquities, sell them to the black market. Buy another gun.”
Virago said, “The guns are just a means to an end. We also buy people, politicians, so we can affect change quietly. We pay rent on homes where we can have planning sessions so we’re not just burning the world down indiscriminately. Money makes war so much more civilized than just scrapping in the streets. All we want is our independence. We want to cut ourselves free from you Protestant bastards.”
Beatrice said, “Do I look Protestant to you?”
“Takes all kinds,” Virago said. “The riches buried here can help create an independent Ireland for future generations to call home. A much better use for them than rotting in a cave hundreds of meters under the Aegean or ignored in some museum. Much more noble.”
Huey said, “And that’s worth killing two people?”
Virago laughed. “Much more than two people, sir. I don’t see any reason to leave the crew of this ship alive when I’m finished with it. The only reason you’re still alive right now is because I don’t want the smell to become an issue. Although I suppose I could just toss you overboard. It would give my golems something to do.”
Huey said, “All right, then.” He hunched his shoulders forward and Beatrice heard the bones of his arm snap. Virago and Baker both turned at the sound, but Huey was already on his feet. Breaking his arm gave him enough maneuverability to get out of his chains. Virago gathered so much energy that Beatrice could feel it crackling in the tight space of the bridge. Huey was too massive to duck or avoid the blow, but Virago was also wary of letting it loose with so much potential collateral damage to the submersible’s controls with the ricochet.
Huey didn’t have to worry so much about that. He used his body as a projectile and slammed into Virago, knocking her back into Baker like dominos. Baker was smashed against the console and collapsed over it like a broken doll. Virago brought her hands up around Huey’s face but he swept her hands away. The energy from her other hand burst against his cheek with barely more strength than a furious slap.
He spun Virago like a dancing partner and pinned her against his chest with one arm. With the other he groped at the pockets of her coat.
“And now you intend to take advantage of me, is that it?”
“I’m offended you think of me like that,” he said, “but I s’pose when you think like a hammer, you start thinking everyone else must be a hammer, too.” He pulled the keys from her pocket and twisted to toss them toward Beatrice. “Think you can let yourself out, Miss Sek?”
She twisted and managed to get her fingers around the keys. “I’ll give it a valiant effort, Mr. Conway. Well done.”
Virago closed her eyes and clapped her hand against Huey’s thigh. She dug her nails in hard enough that it was painful even through the cloth of his pants and he cried out. His grip loosened enough that she was able to slip free. She turned and shoved him away. His bulk worked against him then, and he tripped over his feet before tumbling toward the bridge entrance. The two golems who had been standing there stupidly staring out to sea awoke when she flicked her fingers toward them.
“Kill him!”
The first golem grabbed Huey around the throat and pulled him to the ground, while the other began pummeling him on the head and chest. “Don’t!” Huey shouted. “You get!” Blood darkened his lips with each shout, and Virago smiled as he was beaten to submission. When she finally called off the clay men, Huey was barely breathing. His face was a swollen mass of purple and red. She stepped forward and put the heel of her boot on his hand, stepping down until she heard the bones break. He could only manage a weak whimper at what must have been incredible pain.
The attempted escape dealt with, she straightened her coat. “Now then, Miss Sek, I...”
She turned and saw the magic-dampening cuffs lying empty and Beatrice Sek was nowhere to be seen. Virago realized Huey had been telling her not to help, to make her own escape rather than saving him
from the beating. Virago moved toward the back of the bridge and saw the open window Beatrice had crawled through. The deck was empty in both directions.
“The bitch is fast,” Virago muttered.
The golems were standing still again, awaiting their next command.
“Find her. Bring her here alive. Break her arms, break her legs, paralyze the conjuror for all I care. Just bring her back.”
They shuffled off to follow her commands. Virago checked Captain Baker’s vitals. He was still alive, but he had taken a brutal hit. It didn’t matter. If he died, she would leave his ship behind and find another way home. If Trafalgar and Boone had found what she thought they would, she could afford a luxury vessel to take her back to Ireland in style.
All she had to do was be patient. She rested her hands on the console and watched the screen, waiting for the signal that her foes were starting back to the surface.
#
When Trafalgar returned with the case, Dorothy dumped out its contents and tested its strength by standing on it. Trafalgar expressed doubt that her weight was anywhere near equal to the pressure that would be exerted on the case by a moving wall of stone, but Dorothy was satisfied. She placed it in the threshold with the lid open, which would provide almost three feet of clearance if the walls tried to close again. And if the walls crushed the case completely, she would have her helmet on so she could survive without needing resuscitation.
“I hope you understand that I’ll be staying out here,” Trafalgar said.
“Of course. But it should be perfectly safe.”
Trafalgar said, “Should be.”
“Will be.”
“You don’t know that.”
Dorothy sighed. “No, I don’t. But I have faith. I truly believe that no one would build this trap without a way to bypass it. Now, their methods may have been different than mine. But this is beatable. And I think having a doorstop there will work.”
Trafalgar said, “Good luck, Dorothy.”
“Thank you.” She started forward.
“Dorothy.” She turned and looked back. “I’ll never leave you behind. You know that, don’t you?”
She smiled. “I do.”
With a deep breath to steady her nerves, Dorothy walked back into the room where she’d died. Her hair was still wet, and her throat was rough from coughing up the water she’d swallowed while gasping for air. She cradled her helmet against her chest like a talisman, a totem that reassured her she wouldn’t be caught completely breathless again. She moved quickly across the floor. She told herself she didn’t have to run; last time it had taken a minute or two before the room closed on her. But she still felt relief when she reached the other side of the room. She chose one of the arches at random and stepped through into a dark, narrow tunnel. She had a flashlight tied to her wrist and held her arm out to illuminate the far corners.
“Trafalgar?” Her voice echoed. “Can you hear me?”
“I’m here.”
“First tunnel seems to be a dead-end. Checking the others.” She retreated back to the room and moved through the next archway. Her heart was thudding so hard she was surprised it wasn’t echoing as well. Again she found herself in a tunnel that appeared to dwindle to nothing. She had just stepped out when she heard the same terrifying scrape of stone on stone as the room began to move.
“Dorothy!”
“I know!”
She stopped breathing and ran to the next tunnel. A quick flash of the light through the opening revealed only darkness, so she continued to the next one. She dived through when the doorway was half-blocked and spun around to see if her plan would work. She could see Trafalgar across the room shifting her attention between the wall and the case. Dorothy’s skin erupted in sweat as the stone wall made contact. The side wall of the case sagged slightly and Dorothy sucked in air through her teeth, still not exhaling, still not breathing. If the case shattered, if it couldn’t stand the weight of the stone pressing against it, she would be trapped again.
Everything in her said run, take advantage of the slight gaps remaining and save herself. But after the initial weakening of the box, it didn’t give any further. The stone groaned and something within the walls creaked loudly, but there was no further movement.
Dorothy let out a relieved whoop. Trafalgar’s smile was wider than Dorothy thought she’d ever seen on her face.
“Brilliantly done, Lady Boone!”
“Thank you. Now we just have to remember to ask Ignacio for that precise case when we get back.”
“Just be quick,” Trafalgar said. “We have no idea how long this will hold, or if the chambers will still eventually flood.”
Dorothy examined the tunnel she’d ducked into a found it was an even smaller space, even more of a dead end than before. She’d have dreaded being trapped in there, even if she knew salvation was coming soon. It was far too much like Poe’s prison for Fortunato. She stepped out through the gap, which was larger than she’d first thought, and moved to the next one.
“If these all wind up being dead ends, I shall be very cross...”
She slipped through the next tunnel and almost immediately found something to be excited about. She put her helmet down and took the flashlight from her wrist, placing it in her mouth as she aimed the camera at what she was seeing. The ground sloped down and away before becoming a short flight of stairs. There was a tall opening and, through it, she could see the same pale glow of bioluminescence they’d seen in the main room.
“There’s another chamber.”
“For God’s sake, be careful,” Trafalgar said.
“Sure, yes.” Dorothy examined the doorway carefully and saw no line where the room could rotate and trap her again. There was nothing above the door set to drop down as soon as she passed through. She went down the stairs and gave a thorough examination of the door before she looked out into the new chamber.
“Bloody... hell...”
It was massive. The ceiling was a smooth dome covered with more glowing moss, shining a pale teal light down onto a field of stone plinths. The pale grey wedges were arranged in neat rows that faced the entrance. Each one was at least two meters in length, perhaps more, but they still looked miniscule in comparison to the rest of the space. In front of each plinth was a small altar, and when Dorothy got closer the light of her torch flickered and danced off gold and gems. Each tomb was hosting a fortune. She took pictures of them and then turned her attention to the stones themselves.
“Dorothy?”
She spun and saw Trafalgar standing at the base of the steps. She too was staring in awe at the necropolis, her hands dropping to her side as she entered.
“Is it safe for you to be here as well?” Dorothy asked.
“You didn’t hear it? After you came down here, the room returned to its original position. I left the case where it was, just to be cautious, but I assume whatever mechanisms were at work have been reset. I weighed the risk and determined it was negligible enough to see what you’d found.”
Dorothy smirked. “In other words, you’d come this far and couldn’t resist.”
“Don’t gloat.”
“But I love gloating when you’re proven wrong. It’s my favorite hobby.”
“And one you can engage in so rarely.”
Trafalgar had arrived at the first tombstone. “My god. Look at this.” She aimed her torch at the carved letters on the face of the plinth. “It looks like Lycian...?” She looked at Dorothy for confirmation and received a nod. “I don’t suppose you can read Lycian?”
“Not a jot,” Dorothy said. She unzipped one of the pockets on her suit to retrieve the paper and charcoal she’d brought with her. They were sealed in a plastic bag, but she still checked to make sure they hadn’t been ruined by being underwater for so long. “So which job do you want? Stone rubbing or photographing?”
“I’ll take photography.”
“Excellent.” She handed over the camera and took off her gloves as she approached the fi
rst tombstone. The carvings were condensed to a small space, so she would be able to get everything on a single piece of paper. She placed the sheet over the etching and began to rub. Multiple clocks were ticking in her head, counting down how long they had before the trap reset and before Virago’s patience ran out. She wondered if taking the time to chronicle the gravesites would have disastrous effects on the hostages waiting for them on the surface. She could only hope that Beatrice was holding off the hounds without too much trouble.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Beatrice evaded the golems by being quick and clever, not that it was hard to outwit the senseless beings. She’d spent four days aboard the Cervantes inadvertently memorizing parts of its layout. The golems were ignorant and imbecilic, so they were easy to avoid. When she got below deck, she went immediately to her quarters. She had guns and knives, weapons she could rely on if her magic got too unreliable. Before she left her room, she went into the lavatory and took off her shirt. The sleeves were wet with blood from where she’d cut herself getting out of the cuffs, and she didn’t want to deal with the mess. There were also certain kinds of magic that Virago might be able to do if she got her hands on Beatrice’s blood; better to keep it to a minimum.
She twisted at the waist so she could see her back in the mirror. The tattoo was inert. She clenched her fists and tried to force it to start glowing, tried summoning all the energy she could, but it remained stubbornly dark. She grunted with frustration and rested her hands on the edge of the sink. She couldn’t believe another elemental would appear within weeks of discovering others existed. She briefly wondered if Dov could have alerted Virago to Beatrice’s tattoo, but the bitch had seemed honestly surprised about it.
Maybe Dorothy was right. Maybe the war had broken something in the world. All the magic ripped things apart in a way that was only now becoming apparent. Maybe a part of that was magical entities like the elementals being drawn to one another.
Regardless of the coincidence, she had to take care of Virago before Dorothy and Trafalgar reached the surface. She was right about the fact that they would be sitting ducks in the submersible. She had to eliminate the threat before they came back. She washed her hands and left the bathroom. At the door she paused and listened to hear if the golems were nearby. The corridor sounded empty so she slipped out. The pain and exhaustion was like a wire strung between her wrists and shoulder, twisted in a throbbing knot at the bend of her elbows. She ignored it and ran for the closest deck access.