Chapter 25 Dark Horizons
Hathaway had received Admiral Norrington's offer of dinner with some trepidation. While the admiral was his superior officer he was also related to James Norrington, and therefore more deeply connected to this business than was comfortable for anyone. Certainly for the man himself judging by the lines of strain and sorrow around his eyes. A lot remained unspoken between them, and there was yet more that never could, or should, be said; and food and drink might loosen a man's tongue more than was wise, for either party. But he liked the man; there was a lot that he could learn from him, and not only about James Norrington, for the trouble in his eyes must be more than for just a nephew lost at sea. So he had accepted the offer with grace and gratitude
He had to admit that the company would be welcome, for James Norrington's journals had not been comfortable reading, the regret and growing horror clear on every page; certainly not pleasant in the light of Jack Sparrow's history. The pirate was a man of some talent it would seem, and not a little compassion. Allowing Beckett to carry the letters of marque here had been madness if their lordships had known of this, and as the admiral was the source of his own new knowledge they must have done so. Not for the first time Hathaway indulged himself with some private worries about his king's wisdom.
As the sky darkened to indigo they left the office and adjourned to the best meal Hathaway had eaten in some time. While food was served and consumed they spoke of other matters, a little about music, more about books and the wonders of the new microscope, something on the great dock at Liverpool, before returning to their shared concerns about the threat from the Spanish colonies and navy, and the growing strains in the east. The matter of the East India company was carefully avoided by both men but other than that the conversation was unremarkable, and nothing that would not be heard around the dinner tables of London or Portsmouth.
Hathaway, however, was not terribly surprised when, as the port was placed upon the table and the servants withdrew some hidden fastness, the Governor joined them. He settled himself in a chair opposite without comment and took the glass that Norrington offered with a faint smile, unbuttoning his elaborate coat and easing his laced edged stock with a sigh. The real business of the evening was just beginning.
As the port passed around the Governor broached the subject of all their concerns,
"I had a visitor today, a Spanish merchant or so he claimed," he gave a short, harsh, laugh, "he was no more merchant than I'm a shepherd, a Don from the Spanish court if ever I saw one. But then he wasn't trying to hide it for all his protestations."
The admiral cast him a wary and worried look,
"What did he want?"
The other man watched the light on his wine for a moment then shrugged,
"That was hard to say for certain, but easy enough to guess at, his stated aim was to discuss fair access to the trade routes and port facilities given the recent incursion by the EITC, but his main purpose seemed to be to read me a lecture on the nature of diplomacy and the balance of power. Oh, and the dangers of 'provocative actions', as he put them."
Charles Norrington sighed,
"Well I didn't really doubt that they knew, or suspected, but that would seem to confirm it."
"And in their view possessing the heart of the Flying Dutchman would be an act of war." Hathaway murmured.
"Or even seeking it." The governor agreed.
Norrington nodded,
"They would do all in their power to take it from us, perhaps strike to see how far they could push before we used it."
"As we might if they were to find it first?" the Governor sounded worried.
The navy men stared into their glasses unhappily,
"What choice would we have?" the admiral replied eventually, "The possibility of such a war concerned James even while Beckett was alive. It bothered him that the king did not seem to have considered the chance. He didn't know about Beckett of course."
For a moment there was an uncomfortable silence. Then the Governor looked across at Hathaway.
"I believe that you did know Cutler Beckett?" he said filling his glass for the second time.
The captain smiled slightly and shook his head, his dark blue eyes taking on a slightly distant expression.
"I would not use that word to describe the situation, sir, he was a little above my touch even then, though he had not yet been ennobled."
"He bought it I assume? The title?"
"I could not say. I know he was not of a noble family and nor was he a military man."
"Then he bought it, either with money or other services." The Governor looked across at the admiral, "Information perhaps?"
The other man shrugged.
"It could be. The trade fleets of the east are something of a law unto themselves, little better than pirates on occasion." He sighed heavily, "but they are useful and they have men and ships that the navy cannot spare to such a distance, not unless the King is to build a new fleet, and with taxes already what they are..." he shrugged again and let the words trail away in the face of the other men's knowing nods. "They certainly have knowledge that their Lordships often find invaluable." He looked down into his glass, "and the King always needs funds."
The Governor grimaced,
"I know, none better. Sometimes I think that the whole of St James is under siege by the merchant class and their underlings. Many are very clever and honourable men of course, but in the nature of things not all of them will be, certainly not when out of sight. They have ambitions too, more than many others at court. There will be more than one Beckett to watch for gentlemen, more than one of them would seek control of the seas for themselves if they could, we had best get used to being on our guard."
He reached for a walnut and cracked it with a practiced gesture, looking across at Hathaway,
"How did he come across Mercer? I recall that Mercer was the king's man, so how did he end up in the Indies?"
The captain went still, fingers tightening around the slender stem of his glass, knowing that they were edging into more dangerous waters, a self betrayal that was not unnoticed by the other two.
"Mercer was dismissed near on five years ago." Hathaway's words were clipped, "he had become..... undisciplined."
The Governor's mouth turned up briefly in a chilly smile,
"Greedy." His resigned tone admitted that it was not a new story.
"Aye that too. But more than that, he was unpredictable, some might say over zealous. There were some ...unpleasant incidents. He made enemies among the population where it was not needed, for himself and for the crown."
Hathaway shrugged and sighed,
"I suspect that the truth is that Mercer made his masters anxious, so he was released from service, and, like others before him, given a good reference, a fair payment, and a passage east. But he was man prone to offence from what I have heard, and may have taken umbrage at his dismissal. He could have met Lord Beckett on the journey, or at any port in the Indies. Beckett was not the most scrupulous or compassionate of men and would have found something of a kindred spirit in Mercer."
"Hmmm, a knife down a dark alley might have served the king better." The Governor mused as he refilled his glass again.
"In light of recent events that might well be true, but there was no cause at the time." Hathaway accepted the port again with gratitude, "But the Beckett's of the world will always find those willing to do their dirty work, and they have a nose for them. Mercer or not I doubt it would have altered things much in the long term."
"True enough," the admiral sighed, " pains me to say it but we have them in the navy too, the bullies who can always find recruits to do their unpleasant deeds. Fortunately a good officer learns to spot them quickly and the rule book makes ample provision for dealing with them. Be far more mutiny if that were not the case."
"I was army myself, but I'm sure you are right." The governor conceded gracefully, "I've seen a few in my serving days."
He took another swallow of port,
"But talking of the nature of men, what of our quarry Sparrow? Seems an odd sort from what I've heard of him. Plenty of tall tales of course, most of which I discount. Will we be able to do business with him?"
He paused and stared down at the walnut shards for a moment as if seeking an answer in the pattern of them, "Are we even sure that he has this heart? After all he is a pirate and from what I hear he would not be adverse to making such a claim if he felt it expedient, irrespective of the truth of the matter."
Hathaway shrugged,
"Groves saw him escape the Dutchman as she sank, no one else escaped, and when she resurfaced she had switched sides. So we deduce that Sparrow has some leverage over Jones, why else would the Dutchman change sides at that point? That leverage can only be the heart, there appears to be nothing else Jones can be controlled by. but that does command his obedience however reluctantly."
He let that sink in for a moment just incase the governor had doubted the seriousness of the matter. he took another swallow of wine,.
"We don't know where it is now but it seems most likely that Sparrow does. Personally I doubt that it's at the pirate city, he'd never have risked leaving it there. Far too many men there who would see and seize the opportunity if they came by knowledge of it. For the same reason's he is unlikely to have told any of the occupants, or even his crew where it is, not if he wants to avoid a painful death."
The governor nodded and raised his glass again watching the candle light turn blood red through the liquid,
"How did he leave the ship? It was sinking after all. Could he have taken it with him?"
"Some kind if kite is as close as Groves can come. Rose like a bird from the deck as she started to go down, landed in the sea close to the Black Pearl. They fished him out." Hathaway said quietly.
The admiral sighed,
"Then I think that we can deduce that James was right and that pirate or not Sparrow is a man of some resource."
Hathaway smiled without humour,
"Indeed sir, Mr Groves comments on Captain Sparrow's resourcefulness are most enlightening. It seems that he took the Interceptor without a shot being fired, and with just the assistance of a blacksmith's apprentice, and that he disabled the Endeavor single handed while at the same time firing himself to safety from her decks. It makes some of the other stories about him seem less far fetched."
Norrington nodded slowly,
"The Interceptor incident being one of the things that persuaded the king that he should offer him a pardon; it was not the first time he had done such a thing, and he's credited, if that is the right word, with having absconded with more than one Spaniard. A man of such ability would be of considerable use should the Spanish decide to harass our colonies." He pursed his lips in thought, and then shook his head, "What is the world coming to that the hope for peace hangs on the actions of a pirate, however resourceful?"
"But it does it seems," the Governor said dryly, "Perhaps the best we can hope for is that he dropped it before he regained his ship. But would the Spanish believe that? We cannot afford war if it can be avoided."
He set his glass down with a snap and reached for another walnut,
"Nor is that our only problem. Agents of the EITC are already making representations, they talk of this heart as if it is their property. We cannot risk another Beckett arising from their ranks."
The admiral shifted uneasily in his seat,
"But Sparrow may be dead, of course. If he's not aboard his ship then they may have mutinied against him, possibly seeking the heart for themselves. Perhaps they have already taken it."
Hathaway suppressed a shudder at the idea,
"If they had it then I think we would have known by now. Sparrow is one of the few of that ilk that plays a long game; a very patient man is Jack Sparrow from all accounts. Nor would the Pearl have been seeking him in Tortuga, which they most certainly were, if they knew his whereabouts. Her captain seemed most anxious to find him, as if he had only just discovered that Sparrow had something of great worth."
"Does it really matter so much?" the governor asked, his voice bland while his eyes were sharp on Hathaway's face, "Myth or not the Flying Dutchman is just one ship. Could controlling Davy Jones really give control of the seas as Beckett believed?"
Hathaway filled his glass again, and took a sliver of cheese,
"Mr Groves has seen what the Dutchman can do, she can sail below the waves, she's heavily armed and, as she's immortal, she is also unsinkable. It is not a pretty picture. But as important as any of that is the fear she inspires in men, just seeing her could drive all the heart from even a disciplined crew. The Dutchman is also fast, there is said to be no escaping her."
"The only ship that can outrun her as far as we know is the Black Pearl." The admiral said quietly.
"Yes, another reason to try and take her," Hathaway agreed, "though I doubt that we could ever find out how or why, not without Sparrow's help." He looked around the table, "it all comes back to him it seems."
"I have a feeling that he knows that, which may be why he is staying out of sight," the Governor frowned, "but with such a thing at his command why should he bother? There must be some other factor that we don't know of."
Hathaway stared down into his glass,
"Very possibly. Whatever the cause I don't think I'd want to be in his shoes at the moment."
***
Twenty feet she had said but to Jack it felt more like twenty miles, and he cursed the bravado, or whatever it was, that had brought him into this hole first.
He'd climbed many a rope in his time, both up and down, but usually with the sky above him and the sea below, never in a void with no sense of where he was coming from or going to. Usually he climbed as quickly as he could, but here he moved slowly, hand over deliberate hand, and his shoulders already ached for doing so, but with no knowledge of what lay below caution must be their watchword. Every three feet he stopped and listened for some sign, some hint, of what was below them.
By the time he was a quarter of the way down the sounds of the surface had faded as if that world had ceased to exist, and all he could hear was the heavy rasp of his breathing and the quickened beat of his own heart. At least he hoped it was his own. These days it seemed a man couldn't be sure on that.
The movement of the rope knocked his elbows and knees on the sides of the hole, but it also told him that she not abandoned him, that she was following, and not far behind. But for all that he could see he might be alone on this descent into the unknown.
The rock, barely a foot from his face, was smooth as glass, and a tentative brush with his finger tips told him that it was warm to the touch, though not uncomfortably so, and slippery. Whatever the unearthly fire her ghost had used it had done a grand job, and he made a mental note to discover more about it when they had the time. The sight of it made him further regret his earlier threats, for it was a chilling demonstration of her power and he could see how useful such a weapon might be in recovering the Pearl. Thoughts of that recovery were never far from his mind and it would be a pity if some dream fed paranoia caused him to lose the co-operation of such an advantage. He cast a quick look down into the darkness and shivered, even more so if those same threats caused her to leave him to whatever awaited them below.
Then suddenly his knees were not brushing rock. Kicking out he found only space, and, legs flailing, he quickly lowered himself the last few inches until his boots were scrabbling on something that felt to be ice. For a moment Jack was still, waiting for a hand, or a tentacle perhaps, to grasp his ankle, but nothing happened. He shuffled his feet but the land below felt dry, though slippery, and it seemed that her ghost had been right and they had descended into a hollow below the sea. He inclined his head upwards and hissed,
"I'm through," to the space above him before ducking his head to clear the edge of Ariadne's tunnel, and stumbled out into a wider passage way.
He pulled the lantern she had given him from his belt and thumbed it into life as she had instructed, blinking at the brightness of it after the darkness. Jack frowned down at the small cylinder, it was like no lantern he had seen, more like the little stars in her ship but focused, narrow and stark white in the blackness. In its halo he could see that the ground beneath his boots was smooth as the rock he'd passed through, but rutted and folded where the rock above had melted and dripped as the fire cut its way down.
Jack edged to one side to allow Elanor to join him, shining his lamp around as first her boots and then the woman herself emerged from the hole. The light of her lamp joined his, the pair of them showing a tunnel, wider than the one Ariadne had cut, floored with something that looked like coral encrusted rock, the edges sharp as razors in the sudden light. There was no way of knowing how long it had been since light had illuminated this subterranean world but there was nothing to see anyway. Only the occasional quartz like crystal, no bigger than a thimble full of sand, reflected back the bouncing light, for the rest it was swallowed up by the darkness. Nothing stirred, no insect skittered or rock shifted, and the floor sloped steeply away and down into nothingness. There was silence but for the sound of their breathing.
"So what now?" Jack spoke quietly as if afraid to disturb the rock above them.
Elanor replied in a similar whisper,
"Ariadne says this tunnel, if that's what it is, runs down for about another hundred feet, then it widens for a while longer before apparently dropping into the unexplained space."
"Nothing between here and there?"
"Nothing we can see," she shrugged "but that doesn't mean that there isn't anything."
Jack snorted,
"Cheerful sort aren't you, spend too much time conversing with ghosts." But he pulled his pistol from his belt as he spoke.
She reached forward and grasped his wrist,
"Don't go shooting at shadows Jack, there's an awful lot of rock and sand above us if it decided to take it amiss. Which reminds me..."
She drew a small disc from the pouch hanging from her belt and pressed it against the rock where it set up a faint blue glow, like a curled up glow worm. Jack stared at it for a moment then looked at her,
"What's that?"
"Relay. This amount of rock can make it hard for Ariadne to hear us, and I don't like that idea, we may need all the help we can get. This will help me talk to her."
Jack peered more closely at it then gave her a considering look,
"Oh." Was all he said, then he straightened, "Into the abyss is it then?"
"That or go back. Your choice."
He stared into the darkness for a moment then tightened his grip on the pistol and moved forward.
***
It was slow going, the rutted rock, or dead coral, beneath their boots crunched beneath their boots and sent them stumbling at ever other step. The passage was not wide but the walls were far enough away to provide only an indifferent support, and they were both aware than an injury at this point would end the exploration for the foreseeable future.
If they hadn't been watching their step so carefully they might have passed the gate without noticing.
"Hold up a moment." Jack reached back and put his hand on her arm, shining his torch on the ground, flicking it this way and that in a searching manner.
"What is it?" Elanor asked quietly.
"Not sure." He edged forward and crouched down extending a hesitant hand and tracing an outline on the floor with a gentle finger, brushing away at something she couldn't see.
"This ain't rock, nor coral, weren't cut by water or crabs neither," he said thoughtfully
In the confined space Elanor couldn't join him and had to content herself with looking over his shoulder shining her torch alongside him at the rough pattern she thought she could see.
"So what is it?"
"Don't know, not metal either; see what you think."
He edged forward slightly and pressed himself against the wall to allow her to take his place. What she saw disturbed her more than she was willing to let him know. Whatever it had been had long been overlaid with salt and some other deposit but the pattern was that of a gate of some form and where he had brushed there was a fan of exposed filament that looked to be some form of engineered carbon. Whatever it was it wasn't natural.
Jack looked up at her his frown a pattern of shadow in the gloom.
"Idea's?" he demanded.
She drew a deep breath, unsure of what to say.
"Elanor? It says somethin' to you so what?"
His tone was peremptory and she sighed, they were in this business together after all and there was no point in lying.
"I don't know. It's nothing I've ever seen. But I'd not take odds on it being artificial, or at least from somewhere other than here."
"And that means?" he said with exaggerated politeness.
"Someone else knew about this place at some time in the past and took measures to keep other people out. A long time in the past by the look of it, but even so......."
"Makes you wonder what other little barriers they set in the way." Jack said flatly.
She nodded,
"And what exactly it was they were hiding here."
Jack's grin was triumphant and gold in the torchlight.
"We know the answer to that, though you won't have it. Fountain of youth, just like the map says. Not surprising they would want to keep it to themselves now is it."
Elanor looked at him blandly,
"Maybe. But if that is the case it leaves us with the question of where exactly are they? Why is their gate flattened on the floor and with all the signs of having been so for centuries."
Jack drew a deep breath.
"Ah. Take your point. If they could live forever where are they? And why did they stop comin''"
"Exactly."
"Unless they got caught up in the island sinking, or couldn't find their way here any longer."
"That's possible, but this doesn't look as if it's been flattened by water to me. In fact there's no sign of catastrophic damage at all. It's as if they just left and didn't come back. This is just the result of time and the gradual shifting of rock."
"Dead then?"
"In which case the question has to be how and why?"
"Agreed. So onwards, says I, we'll not find the answer hanging about here."
With that he straightened up and set off into the darkness again. After a moment of frowning thought Elanor followed him.
***
Now that she was looking for them the signs were everywhere. These tunnels had been cut, which probably meant that the space they were heading towards was artificial too, but whoever had done it had not been here in a very long time. Somewhere beneath the coral crusted floor were flags of stone or some other smoothed material and at intervals the walls had niches that might once have held torches, but they, and their full purpose, was long lost, though not to the surrounding sea. Whoever had created this place had done a fine job of it, for there was no sign of water penetration and though the air was dry it was clear and fresh. But if that was the case then where had the coral come from?
Which raised other questions about what waited for them ahead.
This section was longer than Ariadne had estimated, the tunnel being closer to two hundred feet than a hundred, but nothing occurred to hamper their progress. Jack stayed ahead moving slowly and methodically, torch in one hand and pistol in the other, the roof barely clearing his hat. Then suddenly they were in a wider space, almost circular, the roof arching up and over them like the rafters of a country church and with something that looked to be seats carved into the walls.
They cast their torches around, each noting the other's sombre expression in the drifting light.
"How much further?" Jack asked as Elanor took a moment to fix another relay to the wall.
She shrugged,
"Can't be far now. Maybe another twenty or thirty feet. At least there's no doubt about the direction, there's only the one way to go."
A sudden sound silenced them both and set them back to back, Jack with pistol pointed one way, Elanor with her taser targeted on the other. After a moment of reorientation they realised that the sound was coming from floor level; drawing deep breaths and exchanging warning looks they both focused their torches on the source of the sound.
From beneath one of the carved niches an insect of some form appeared; hesitating for a moment on the edge of shadow before easing itself into the light as if surprised. Once there it halted, apparently unafraid. For a long moment they both stared at it in the torchlight, and it seemed to stare back. It's head was crowned with a circle of what appeared to be many faceted eyes, though there could be little to look at in such darkness, and five antenna sprouted from a top knot at the circle's centre, each one tipped with a quiver of fine hairs. It had six legs, an armoured body nearly a foot long, etched with deep ridges, which tapered into another quiver of fine hair with the look of a tail. The antenna turned towards them and flickered like a lizards tongue, but the creature made no move forward or backwards. Jack took half a step forward tilting his head to the side and studying it in open astonishment, Elanor reached out and caught his wrist but said nothing, her own mind struggling with what she saw.
For a moment it seemed to watch Jack with no less surprise, then suddenly it turned, the ridges in its body parting to allow it to spread transparent wings that were just a haze in the torch light. For a moment the wings were almost still, as if stretching, then with a flick of its hair like tail it took flight, passed over their lowered heads and down towards the centre of the mountain.
Jack turned an outraged look upon Elanor,
"What the bloody hell was that!" he demanded.
"How should I know?" Elanor snapped back, "This is your time and place not mine!"
"Well my time and place don't include things like that!" he pointed a stiff finger in the direction it had gone, "I've seen a few strange beasties in me time, some I'd rather not see again, but nothing like that."
"No?" she asked him trying to stifle her disquiet.
"No." Jack hissed.
"Well it had the look of some type of dragon fly. Maybe it's unique to this island." She stared down where it had disappeared, "But that doesn't answer the question of why it should be."
Elanor looked at Jack uncertainly,
"Does this mean we go back?"
"No it doesn't. Strange place this is I'll grant you, but then where else would you expect the fountain of youth to be but a strange place. Eh?"
Elanor smiled faintly at him,
"There is a twisted logic to that I suppose."
"Oy, a little less of the twisted if you please. It makes perfect sense and you know it does."
"Maybe, but have you thought of the implications? If we go on then things may get a lot stranger still."
Jack seemed to think about that for a moment as he let his torch beam play over the passage the creature had disappeared into, then he shrugged,
"My life seems to be one long parade of weirdness these days, why should this be any different? I'm beginning to wonder if that Aztec curse didn't hang around even after the coins were returned."
She smiled into the darkness,
"Set you up as weird event magnet do you mean?"
"Something like. Makes you a pole that weirdness calls to maybe."
He sounded resigned and not for the first time she wondered how close to the edge of insanity his recent past had taken him. Then he scowled,
"All that damned monkey's fault I'll wager. Must have taken one of the coins from the chest to be undead so stands to reason that the heathen gods were stirred up, still keeping a weather eye on those involved as you might say. I'll take it up with Hector next time I see him, assuming I delay shootin' him long enough."
Elanor's smile became a grin,
"If that's the case then shooting Hector or his monkey might only make matters worse," she warned.
"Hmm," Was Jack's only response.
Catching sight of her smile in the torch light he glowered,
"I'll lead the way shall I?" he said and strode off.
***
This tunnel was also longer than Ariadne had predicted, and more than once Jack turned to find Elanor examining the wall by torchlight. The first and second time he merely huffed in exasperation and waved her to follow more quickly, but the third time he stared at her for a moment then came back the few paces to join her.
"What is it that's botherin' you about these here walls. Seem strong enough to me, held the sea back for centuries no reason to assume they'll fail now."
She shook her head slowly and put the torch closer to the rock,
"Can't be sure, but these quartz like crystals, " she reached out and traced her finger over the face surface, "I don't think they are quite right, I'm no geologist but they don't seem to belong here. I saw them back there, where we first came down, but it didn't occur to me that they were strange. But they have got more frequent, and unless I'm letting my imagination run away with me they seem to be arranged in patterns. They aren't randomly dispersed if you see what I mean."
Jack let his torch beam wander over the rock around them seeing the faint reflections where the crystals studded the darker rock, like stars in the night sky. As he studied them he could see what she meant, like the stars to a navigator what had seemed random before now did not, instead they seemed to be arranged in constellations, groups that hung together though the patterns they made held no meaning for him.
"I see. Leastways I think I do. What are thinking that they are?"
"No idea, they just scream at me to be careful."
"Works for me." Jack said as he ran the torch over them again.
He cursed in surprise and then ducked sharply as something emerged from the shadow and flitted over their heads back in the direction they had come.
Elanor joined Jack in his cursing but for different reasons,
"Damn it! I should have thought about it back there. This place was enclosed and now its not. If there are living creatures down here they will sense the change in air and go exploring. Hell!"
She thought for a moment, then triggered the communicator,
"Ariadne connect me to the surface."
Jack started as the disembodied voice came back, echoing around the confined space.
"Connection made."
Elanor turned and beckoned him closer,
"Be ready to bellow Jack, I need Gibbs to do as he's told and quickly, no fear, no arguments."
Jack just frowned,
"Told you he's a good man to have at your back, sacred of your ghost he may be but he can follow his captains orders and he'll do the necessary, what ever that might be."
"Lets hope that you're right." She flicked the comms link again, "Mr Gibbs, can you hear me?"
For a moment there was silence then Gibbs voice was echoing in the darkness,
"Aye ma'am, though you sound to be a long ways down."
"We are, but I need you to do something for me. The tarpaulin we brought, I need you to cover the overhang with it, and to weight it down well."
Jack's eyes widened in realisation and he leant forward over her shoulder,
"Aye and scurry man! It needs to be done quickly, there are a few little beasties down here that might get the urge to strike for freedom. Which might not be good. Use the long boat for cover or weight if needs be, but make sure that nothing but ourselves comes back out of that hole."
"But Jack, I'll not be able to hear you if you call." Gibbs protested anxiously.
"Can't be helped mate." He saw Elanor's impatient shake of her head and smiled into the darkness, "Though the good captain's ghost may have a few things up her sleeve to assist with that I'm thinking. But no worries for us, we've not seen anything so far big enough that a pistol can't persuade to stay still. Remember that bloody monkey eh! Don't want a repeat of that now do we? So do as Captain Cavendish asks, and do it quickly."
"Aye captain," the words drifted back, though it was unclear whom they were addressed to.
Jack's eyes gleamed in the light of her torch.
"Onwards and downwards then," he said. "Can't be far now."
***
It was far enough to be wearying though, and they descended the air grew hotter and strangely clammy. More skitterings in the shadows caused them to exchange looks but neither spoke. The crystals in the wall grew more frequent and densely packed and the ruts in the floor deeper and more intricate. But the first real shock came as they realised, both at the same time, that there were other noises than their own laboured breathing.
Not words, nor animal cries, but a faint hissing, like rain on hot rock, had replaced the back ground silence. Elanor felt the hairs on the back of neck rising in some primordial warning and she was glad of the dark shape of Jack ahead of her, though not as far ahead as he had been earlier. At frequent intervals he looked back at her as if to be sure that nothing had swallowed her or dragged her back into the darkness.
The noise grew louder as the tunnel appeared to bend to their right, something else that Ariadne's sensors had not predicted. They halted before the turn, each seeking agreement in the other's face. Jack raised his eyebrows in silent question and Elanor inclined her head in a brief deep of acceptance, then, shoulder to shoulder, they edged around the bend.
Another tunnel stretched away from them, its wall heavily pitted with the quartz patterns, its floor sloping upwards with the depth of incrustation. But they knew it marked a Rubicon, for the far end, though shadowed, was not as dark as it should have been.
"Light." Jack said blankly, "I can see light. Down here. How?"
"I don't know." Elanor replied slowly. "I'm not sure that I want to. Ariadne said whatever is down there the space is big, and if she misjudged its size to the same degree that she misjudged the length of these tunnels then huge would be a better word. Far bigger than the space needed to hold a fountain, or even a cascade. So what ever is down here its likely to be more than that. Unless fountain means something I can't think of."
Jack was silent, for a moment then he handed her his torch and drew his sword,
"Only one way to know."
Then he was off towards the light, crossing the uneven floor at a run.
Elanor swore, and raised her voice for the first time since that had left the surface.
"Jack you bloody madman, be careful, if you fall its going to be dammed painful getting you back to the surface, for both of us."
He ignored her, and with a curse she set off after him, though more slowly.
At the end of the passage the exit narrowed, no longer high enough to allow Jack to stand straight. He thudded to a halt placing the hand holding his pistol on the roof as he leaned forward into the space beyond. As she got within arms length his words drifted back to her, the tone a mix of awe and delight,
"Bloody hell!"