Chapter Forty-Three

Shining as brightly as the North Star, the white orb led them up a hill to a giant round door embedded in a cliff wall. Like the previous gate, this one was sealed. A nook on the left side housed another seated stone guardian. This demon statue had the body of a man with the head of a rabbit. Like the previous gazelle-headed statue, the rabbit guardian’s legs were bent at the knees and pulled close to its chest. A codex key of stone buttons lined the wall beneath its perch.

Imogen searched the codes written at the back of the diary. She studied the sequences, translating them.

Caleb leaned close. “You’ve found something.”

“Maybe. The codes seem to align with drawings of the gate guardians from the Papyrus of Ani. Grandfather made small drawings of them in his journal. Each has the first three letters of code beneath it.” She showed Caleb the drawings of various Egyptian demons seated with their knees bent.

Imogen shook her head, amazed. “They’re clues to the gates’ puzzles but not the whole answer. Opening each gate is still a guessing game, but his hints will narrow the choices.”

“Can you open this one?” Trummel sounded impatient.

Imogen studied the cipher on the wall, then flipped through the pages until she found a drawing of the rabbit guardian. She memorized the three symbols beneath, then flipped back to the pages filled with codes and searched for a match. Six names started with the same three symbols. She guessed at the first sequence and then braced herself for a booby trap. Nothing happened. Her fingers shook as she entered a second sequence. Still nothing. She pictured Grandfather standing at this door, his brow furrowed as he tried to solve the riddle. Which one is it, Grandfather? It would have helped immensely if he’d drawn all the guardians together with the codes and names, but had the diary fallen into other hands, he would have given some stranger the key to Duat. Instead he’d left the information in a riddle that he thought Imogen could solve. She studied the rest of the options. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she recognized one of the names. Grandfather had said something like it when she saw him last. “Go forth, Immy, but be wary like the rabbit, always alert of face.” She’d thought it strange at the time. But there was a lot strange about Grandfather after the Nebenteru Expedition, so she’d let it go. She pushed in the stones that matched the fourth set of symbols and called out the name “One Who Is Alert of Face.” The stone rabbit’s head nodded, and then the gate’s door turned to liquid.

“Well done,” Caleb said.

The white orb, reflecting in the gate’s mirror, glowed bright as if pleased. Then it flew across the swamp like a shooting star and disappeared.

“I guess we’re on our own,” Imogen said.

On the other side of the gate, a long circular passage burrowed through the rock. While Imogen waited for everyone to step through the portal and regroup, she emptied water out of her hiking boots.

Ely did the same. “My feet felt like bricks were tied to them.” His face was still red from crying. He sniffled and wiped his nose.

“Are you okay?” Imogen asked.

“Shaken up, actually. What I saw back there…” The student shuddered. “I think this place is making me crazy.”

“You aren’t alone,” Imogen said. “I think we’re all going a bit nuts.”

This brought a smile to Ely’s face.

“All right, teatime’s over,” Gosswick barked. Those were the first words he’d spoken since losing Sykes. Gosswick had walked off by himself and smoked a cigarette, then returned with a hardened expression. Despite their differences, Imogen felt sorry for Gosswick. He’d lost every one of his soldiers.

Carrying fire torches, Gosswick and Trummel took the lead. Following Caleb, Imogen fell in line with the others. Ely, who still looked after Dyfan, brought up the rear. This new cave they crossed through was tube-shaped. It reminded Imogen of the London Underground. She could almost imagine a train bearing down.

“Where do you think this leads?” Ely asked.

Imogen shrugged. “At least it’s a straight shot for a change.”

Gosswick and Trummel, who never once stopped to rest, walked fifty yards ahead. It was mostly dark in the tunnel, since they were saving their batteries. The flames from their torches rippled light on the curved walls. That they hadn’t encountered any threat allowed Imogen to relax a little. Condensation beaded the ceiling and plinked into tiny pools. Cool drops fell on her helmet and shoulders. Soon everybody’s boots were splashing through ankle-deep water, and the tube seemed more like a sewer channel. They’d already walked about a kilometer without seeing any offshoots.

With nowhere to go but forward, the group walked at their own pace for a long stretch. Imogen, Dyfan, and Ely occasionally chatted to fill the time. Caleb, who’d grown quiet, walked a few feet ahead. Imogen wondered what he might be thinking about, but didn’t pry.

Sloshing through the shallow water, she thought she heard rustling noises coming from above. She stopped and looked back at Dyfan and Ely. “Do you hear something in the walls?”

Ely held his torch up and Imogen switched on her helmet light. Holes pocked the rock walls and ceiling. At first she saw nothing, just heard crackling sounds coming from the walls. Then pale worms emerged from the holes. Their segmented bodies stretched out from the walls and ceiling like feelers. One touched the back of Ely’s neck.

“Oh, God,” he cried out and slapped the thing away.

Splashing sounds echoed all around. Worms poured out of the holes by the dozen, as if the walls were hemorrhaging their entrails.

Walking backward, Ely switched on his headlamp. He played his light over a writhing mound that had formed in the tunnel behind them. “What the hell is that?” The mass of worms grew quickly as more sloughed off the walls and attached to it.

Ely pushed Dyfan and Imogen. “Move! Move!”

The three of them raced through a gauntlet of feelers that slowed them down. White worms continued to disgorge from the tunnel walls, splashing in piles beside Imogen’s feet. Some were a foot long and resembled eyeless albino snakes. Something thumped onto her helmet and roped onto her shoulders. She pulled off a handful of the slimy creatures and slung them against a wall, but not before she felt a sharp sting on her palm. “They bite.”

A long worm dropped on Ely’s arm. By the time he ripped it off it had left a bloody welt. “Christ, they’ve got teeth.”

The tunnel’s pocked holes continued to fill up like maggoty wounds. Soon the squirming mound behind them was taller than Ely. It moved toward them through the water. Imogen and Dyfan fled as fast as they could. The tunnel floor, now cluttered with fleshy ropes, dragged at their ankles. Imogen had to stop several times to pull worms off her legs. Caleb arrived and helped her and Dyfan. Feelers reached toward them from all around, moving like curious snake heads.

Caleb stabbed his torch at the walls. The worms hissed.

“Help!” Ely’s voice sounded behind them.

Imogen turned back to help. Ely was knee-deep in the squirming mass. “They’re biting me!” he cried. “They’re eating my legs!”

More worms roped down from the ceiling, covering Ely’s head, his shoulders.

“What can I do?” Dyfan groped blindly.

Imogen tried to scrape the creatures off Ely but they clung as though bound. “Grab a hand,” she told Dyfan. “Help me pull him free.”

As they worked to free Ely, the mound of white worms behind him towered nearly to the ceiling. The horror drifted closer. Several of its tangles flicked out like tongues.

Caleb helped Imogen and Dyfan. They tugged in unison, the worms biting them as they worked to free Ely. Imogen’s neck, shoulders, and hands were on fire. Her beam spotlighted the mound looming over Ely. In the middle, the worms parted, revealing a man’s slime-covered face. He called out, “Feed the worms, boy…”

Looking over his shoulder, Ely yelped and swung his torch, trying to burn the man inside the mass. Several tentacles shot out from the mound and wrapped around Ely’s arms and head. His torch fell onto the squirming floor and sputtered out. He began wailing.

“What’s happening?” Dyfan cried.

Imogen watched helplessly as the writhing mass pulled Ely into it. He howled in pain, kicking and fighting to break free.

Caleb grabbed Dyfan and Imogen, pulling them away. “We can’t save him.”

Ely’s blood splattered the white mass as the worms devoured him. He’d stopped fighting. The man inside the hill of worms pulled Ely deeper into it. Feeding sounds echoed in the tunnel. Ely’s lifeless face came to the surface once – bloody welts crisscrossed his cheeks, his eyelids – then he vanished in the tangles.

All around them the worms retreated, slinking back into holes. The towering mass backed away and disappeared into the dark tunnel.

Imogen stood frozen. Dyfan wept soundlessly. Caleb tugged both of their arms. “He’s gone. We have to go!”

Trummel and Gosswick were splashes of light on water far up the tunnel. Imogen and Caleb each took one of Dyfan’s arms, and walked quickly. In the tunnel ahead, the torches of the others winked out all at once.

“Where did they go?” Caleb said.

Imogen was too exhausted to think. The beam of her headlamp bounced over the shin-deep water and up the walls. Thankfully all the worms had left. She hurt all over. The bites throbbed. Dyfan was heavy and her side ached, but she kept walking at a brisk pace.

A wall rose ahead in her beam, blocking the tunnel. It glinted, light on water, their reflections drawing nearer. “It’s a liquid door,” she shouted. “That’s where the others went.”

Passing through the door felt like running beneath an icy waterfall. On the other side, they stepped onto a rocky bank that glistened with drips of water. A shallow stream trickled nearby. Beyond that was more cavernous dark.

At least they were out of the worm tunnel and seemed safe for the moment.

Everyone but Trummel and Gosswick was bleeding from small bites.

Imogen shot the two men a glare. “Thanks for helping us back there.”

“We were too far ahead,” Trummel said. “Had you all kept up—”

“Don’t say it,” Imogen said, cutting him off. “Just don’t.”

Trummel clamped his mouth shut and looked away, his jaw tight.

While the five of them sat on boulders by the stream, washing wounds and drinking from canteens, they took a moment to mourn the loss of Ely. Dyfan said a prayer for him. After a short rest, Trummel had them moving again. On the other side of the stream, he led the way along a narrow path that wove between tall stalagmites. At the top of each of them, stone branches connected to a spiky ceiling covered in white webs.

Dyfan halted. “Wait! I feel a terrible menace in this realm. We should turn back.”

“There’s no other way but to follow this path forward,” Trummel said. He shone his light into Dyfan’s cataract gray eyes. “Unless you want to go back through that tunnel and end up worm food, like Ely, I suggest you move your damn legs.”

“How can you be so callous?” Imogen asked Trummel.

“I have no patience with stragglers. Anyone who slows us down is putting us all at risk.”

“Logic would say there’s more danger in moving too hastily.”

“There’s little point in debating with you, Imogen. No matter what, you always have to have the last word.”

“Only because you’re too thickheaded to listen.”

Trummel turned and forged ahead. He and Gosswick walked at a brisk pace, expecting the others to keep up.

Imogen let out an exasperated growl. The others abandoned Dyfan. Without Ely to guide him, the blind man seemed lost. “Stay with me, Dyfan. I’ll look after you.” She placed his hand on her shoulder and walked in front of him. She felt him shivering as he stayed close, matching her every step.

“What are you sensing?” she asked.

“I can’t get a clear vision of it,” Dyfan said. “But I feel a sadness knotting my chest. Deep grief. I haven’t felt this way since…”

Caleb paused. “Am I going crazy, or do I hear music?”

“I hear it too,” Imogen said.

“It’s coming from back in there.” Twenty paces ahead, Trummel stopped too and shined his light into the dark forest of rocky spires. Everyone paused and listened. A sad and haunting concerto seemed to come from a single violin.

“It’s the damnedest thing,” Gosswick muttered.

Dyfan’s eyes teared up. “It’s Chopin’s ‘Nocturne’.”

“What’s it coming from?” Imogen asked.

“Gwendolyn!” Dyfan broke away from her and stepped off the path. Feeling his way through the stalagmites, he hurried toward the source of the music.

“No, come back here.” Imogen started after him, meandering through the clustered poles of rock. Several times she had to turn sideways to squeeze through some narrow places. For a small blind man, Dyfan moved fast, desperately calling out his wife’s name. As they combed their way through this cave forest, the violin music seemed to speed up, the bow dragging harshly across the strings and creating sharp, violent chords.

Imogen reached a clearing covered in spiderwebs. The ground was so white it looked blanketed with cotton. As Dyfan walked across it, toward the music, the webbing that stretched between the stalagmites vibrated.

“Dyfan, stop!” She rushed across the clearing. Just as she grabbed his arm, he stepped on a soft patch of ground that gave way. He fell into a dark hole, pulling Imogen down with him.