He turned slowly, hand becoming clammy upon the grip of his pistol. The waves of his hair rippled in the wake of a great beast's breath. Hardly daring to stir, Ichabod allowed his gaze to slide towards the once inanimate creature. An irate bull of stone emerged from within the wall and began snuffling at the various shrubs poking up through the floor-stones. Rigid in their spots, the pirate and the constable exchanged urgent glances.
What now? Ichabod mouthed.
Jack traced the courtyard with a sweeping look. There was barely an exit wide enough for the enormous creature to wander away from the area and he deemed it pointless to waste shots on a farmyard animal made out of rock. He did, however, catch sight of a pit within the wall that the monster had been blocking. With a bit of luck it would be of sufficient size for them to crawl into. As soon as the bull's back was turned, Jack pointed delicately to the hole.
Ichabod gulped and nodded. Slowly and quietly they tiptoed for the tunnel. The constable was shivering with fear, his fingers scrabbling at the grip of his gun.
The sandstone bovine snorted. The two men froze. Ichabod trembled more violently still. Jack watched him with a dull horror, shaking his head in minute movements. They crept further still, halfway to safety.
The pistol fell from the constable's hand; he caught it. He smiled with relief and disbelief.
-BANG-
A shot ricocheted around the quiet courtyard. Jack flinched. When he opened his eyes again, his glare could have melted steel. "Crane, if we survive this, remind me to pull your arms off."
A great bellowing sounded. The immense bull pawed at the ground – made all the more frightening by the fact that this action shattered the flagstones at its feet. Its target-patterned eyes blazed wildly.
"Not good," the pirate commented, as expected.
And they ran for the tunnel.
Jack, a little quicker on his feet, dove headlong through the opening and tumbled down into a torch-lit chamber. Ichabod only just managed to leap in before the mad beast smashed bodily into the wall, where it crumbled across the entrance.
The constable gasped in breath where he lay upon dusty earth. Jack was already up and pacing restlessly, eager to move through one of several passages that opened up ahead. He was clearly uncomfortable underground.
"Must keep moving," he muttered. "I'd sooner be back at the gallows than rotting down 'ere." The croaking click of a pistol hammer pricked his ears. "Come off it, Crane, I knows as well as you that thing i'n't loaded," he said without turning. "And you can't kill me, remember?"
Sitting against the cave wall, Ichabod watched the back he aimed at with caution. "Perhaps not. What I can do is ensure you're unable to walk. I could just as soon put in another shot."
Doubting that the constable could manage to do so before he could wrench the gun from him – plausibly with enough time to club him unconscious with it – Jack decided to humour him. He turned on the spot and clasped his hands at his belt.
"All right. What's got your frilly drawers in a twist this time?"
"Tell me why the Goblin Queen gave you less time than the rest of us. If she can bend the rules of your game and not ours, she must have some power over you, which leads me to wonder why she did not take sufficient time from you to make your failure a certainty? Please enlighten me, and –," he added as Jack attempted to respond, "I'd advise against falsehoods, Mr Sparrow. I want the truth."
Jack gave a half grin.
"The trouble with the truth, Constable, is that people just don't want to hear it. Oh they may think they do but they're always so terribly disappointed when it happens. I wouldn't want to disappoint you, now would I?"
His heart skipped a beat at the speed with which Ichabod launched to his feet and crossed the cave, locking eyes with him. The constable's pallid cheeks were flushed with a fearful rage.
"I know what it was you gave her. Remarkable how she knew all of our names, is it not?" He dropped his firing arm to his side in order to bark in Jack's face. "She used me to get to Edward, whose name I believe she got from you as part of your bargain. What's to say you did not give her my name also?"
Jack kept his sneering smile, masking his own sense of guilt. "Supposing I told her of the walking garden tool, what loss was it really? Have you so little faith that we can make it out of 'ere?"
Ichabod shook his head in disgust. "You're a louse of a man and a traitor to any foolish enough to call you friend."
Jack surprised even himself with his icy response. "Pirate…" he hissed, taking care to allow his unpleasant breath to tickle the constable's nostrils. "Regardless," he said, turning and walking on towards the nearest passageway, "Whatever I did or did not say of ol' Eddie, she ain't found 'im, and as for you, mate, I said nothing. How's that for friendship, eh?"
Ichabod's hand flew to his pocket for shot and powder, but all in vain. Jack had vanished, and the chocolatier had returned – a hatted silhouette in the gloom.
Meanwhile, residents of the Underground puzzle maze strained to keep the 'walka-walkas' on their houses as a jet-like noise burst through the sky overhead. The waterless vertical fish tank of the Great Glass Elevator careened along, zigzagging through endless passageways.
It came to a sudden halt; rockets powered down and the transparent lift thumped to the ground. The doors groaned outwards and the traveller stepped onto the lawn of an overgrown garden.
Edward wobbled precariously, and was then violently sick in the nearest hedge.
The garden was in a sorry state. The grass was so thick with bristling and thorny weeds that it was not unlikely they had been purposely cultivated. Dead creepers, filthy with ancient cobwebs, draped about the walls. Ugly bushes dotted the area with a sulky presence.
A goblin stood nearby, aghast. He wore a tiny straw boater and clasped a rake in his hand. He had been on the verge of setting upon the trespasser that was damaging his property, until he noticed the gigantic sets of shears in place of the human's hands. It only took the sight of Edward's faintly scarred face to emerge from the hedge for the goblin to give out a high-pitched 'Yipe!' and dash away into the maze.
The yellow-faced boy gazed blearily at the garden mess, his scissors twitching instinctively. There was work to be done.
"I see you've been having a party also, Mr Crane," said William, eyeing the constable as he poured powder into his pistol chamber.
Ichabod watched the dreary passageways whilst he loaded the shot. "Apparently so. Has she found Edward yet?"
Mr Wonka sucked his teeth sullenly. "No, and she has some wacked out idea that I have something to do with it. No thanks to Mr Sp- Spa- S- … that darned pirate." He stamped his foot then cursed mildly as dust covered his once shiny shoes. "We should keep on truckin' and finish this stupid game before she gets the chance."
"Splendid idea."
Having slid his weapon back into his belt, Crane marched over to a wall bracket and relieved it of its torch. He turned to where the paths divided and chose one at random, before continuing on with Wonka in tow. A few yards along, the paths split again, this time into three.
"Left, right, or -," Ichabod began.
A wooden door had appeared in each one of the ways, each of them with a grotesque knocker fixed to their top centres. These had monkeyish faces with squat noses and bat-like ears.
"Be someone there?" gargled the one on the right. It was engraved with webbed fingers over its eyes.
"Indeed there is," Ichabod answered. "We are trying to get through this Labyrinth as quickly as possible and would appreciate knowing which door will lead closer to the castle."
"Labyrinth? Castle? Ooh that does sound exciting. I wish I could see. It's an awful pain not knowing what's going on or where I've popped up. Where am I this time?"
"You're in a sequence of caves below ground."
"Oh well that's no use is it?" the blind knocker chortled. "There be hundreds of them. What else is here?"
"There are two other doors with faces blocking the other passageways, one with hands over its ears, the other over its mouth."
Ichabod fancied he saw the blind knocker manage to nod.
"Ah so there I be. It is good to have company again, yes."
"Very good. Would you happen to know which door leads to the castle? I'm afraid we don't have a lot of time," the constable asked impatiently.
"I don't be knowing, sorry friend. All I know is you can only go through one of us, and though I can swap sides of my door, I would not see if there was a way out the other side."
Crane frowned. "Very well then, I shall ask the other two. Thank you for your help."
"You be welcome."
Putting on his best interrogative pose, Ichabod addressed the middle door knocker.
"Good day to you. I suppose you may have heard the question I put to your friend just now? Could you help?"
"Mmf…"
"Ah." Crane attempted to prise the brass hands from the mute knocker's mouth.
"Mmmf!" it said, glaring.
Ichabod released his grip, and muttered apologetically.
Mr Wonka fancied trying his hand at playing detective.
"Hello there!" he said to the final knocker.
"WHAT?" The reply almost blew his hat off.
"I said hello there!" William repeated with hands cupped about his mouth.
"STOP MOCKING ME. I CAN'T HEAR YOU."
Wonka folded his arms, put out. "There's no need to snap. Stress isn't good for the complexion ya know."
Ichabod ushered him out of the way and stood before the deaf knocker. He tried mouthing his questions very slowly and clearly.
"NO USE GETTING ME TO LIP-READ. HAVEN'T SEEN ENOUGH FACES TO LEARN. NEVER EVEN SEEN MY OWN FACE."
The constable sighed.
Mr Wonka produced a notepad and paper from his dimension-defying pockets and tried writing the words down.
"CAN'T READ EITHER. QUIT BOTHERING ME."
The two men decided to give their ears a rest.
"It's no good," Ichabod complained. "One can't understand a word I say and the other can't say a word itself."
It took a few moments but Mr Wonka finally caught on to what his brain was trying to suggest. "What if we get the middle one to tell us without words? My Oompa Loompas hardly ever speak English except when they're singing. Most of the time we communicate with sign language."
"Excellent idea, Mr Wonka, with a minor flaw. It can't move its hands."
William rolled his eyes and strolled over to the middle door again. "Howdy again, sir or ma'am. If ya would be willing to be so kind, we'll ask ya some questions and if you would answer with a blink for yes and two blinks for no, that would be super, 'kay?"
The knocker blinked:once.
After a considerable amount of blinks from the poor mute, the constable and the chocolatier ascertained that there was a dead end behind its door. A few questions on the side revealed that the loudmouth on his right had never mentioned anything of interest either.
Almost as satisfied as they could be, Ichabod returned to the blind knocker.
"Hello again. We think we've settled on choosing your door, but we'd like to ask just one more thing."
"Be my guest."
"Have you ever heard anything in particular on the other side of your door?"
"Oh yes, sometimes I be hearing the odd footstep or a bird twittering."
"Good, good. Then, permission to pass," Ichabod requested.
"Just knock and it should open."
Crane did so and the two of them walked on into the passage beyond. The knocker reappeared on the back of the door.
"Farewell then and good luck. It be a while since people walked through my door."
Ichabod paused in his steps. "People have been through before?"
"Yes, yes. People be only ever coming through mine."
The constable slapped his forehead and then he and Wonka wandered on their way.
