Chapter Twelve

“In Which Some May Question Whether This is the Best All Worlds”

1.

“IF I COULD only…reach.” Nathaniel cursed. While he lay there expecting a jolt of power that might well fry him, he attempted to align the last cog. Despite his patience and sensitive touch, it just refused to slip into place, the task made more difficult by his weak wrist.

“Erm…Nathaniel.”

“Not now, Arnaud. This…requires…delicacy.” Nathaniel reached deeper, the strain of over-stretching making a muscle pop in his side. “Damn!” The cog slipped again and Nathaniel had to give up the attempt in order to catch his breath. He rubbed his wrist, which had begun to tremble.

“Nathaniel.”

Maybe if he tried another angle.

“Mon toujours!”

Something in Arnaud’s voice accompanied by a hissing from Notch indicated urgency. Nathaniel pushed away from the monolith, looked to where Arnaud was staring. He’d previously noted the large opening of sufficient size that it would only require a step up and a stoop to slip through to the bottom of the crystal city. Now, something blocked the light. At first, Nathaniel thought it was Folkard, then he got a clearer view.

The captain stood swaying. Before him, the burrowing creature reared up. The fur was indeed golden, with a silky appearance. Its snout and paws, or claws, for that was the shape of its forequarters, were of the same pale skin. Though pale, the epidermis was clearly tough like the pads on an animal’s feet.

At least there was something of a barrier between Folkard and the creature, although if it decided to strike, it could probably bring the entire ceiling down.

“Try talking to him.”

“I have.”

Had he been that engrossed he had failed to hear Arnaud speaking to the captain? “Arnaud, swap places with me. Lie down. Look in there. Can you see the cog, the third one from the back, out of alignment?”

“No. Wait. Yes. Got it.”

“Try to put it back.”

“Give me the simple job,” Arnaud muttered.

Hoping he hadn’t just made a mistake and that Arnaud might have better luck and wouldn’t be hurt, Nathaniel turned his attention to Folkard. The man stood rigid, gaze intent yet unfocused, his lower lip a little slack.

“Captain. We could be in danger. I need you to snap out of this.” Nathaniel glanced at the creature, positive he could feel it gazing back, although it appeared to have no eyes. It didn’t seem aggressive, but how could one tell? Notch didn’t like it, but if the beetle was on this thing’s menu, Nathaniel could understand why. “Jacob?”

“Got it!” Arnaud’s triumph rang out even as the sound of power revving up vibrated throughout the corridor. If he’d known Arnaud would have success where he had struggled for so long, he’d have asked him to do it sooner. He didn’t have a chance to say so for under his touch, Folkard stiffened.

Although his stare didn’t waver, Folkard closed his mouth and swallowed. “It’s called a Florenskiite.”

“The creature?”

“Yes.”

“You’re…communing with it?”

“Now I am. Whatever that monolith is…the sound. Can you not hear?”

“No.” He was aware of something, but more a vibration beneath his skin than true sound.

“Sound?” Arnaud frowned. He slapped a hand to his forehead. “Of course!” He looked at Nathaniel, excitement sparking in his eyes. “Cairns.”

“Cairns?”

“Yes. A cairn can be a mound of rough stones, often found on hilltops, built as a memorial or landmark. Some are prehistoric burial mounds.”

“I know what a cairn is, Arnaud!”

“Sorry. Of course But there are also chambered cairns, sometimes referred to as tombs, although that word is misleading.”

Nathaniel knew that, too, but could tell that Arnaud was working his way through his thoughts as much as imparting knowledge. The ancient constructions Arnaud referred to were thought to have served as repositories of the dead, but many took that to mean the purpose was funerary. Bones found in cairns were often in differing states of disorganisation to neatly arranged, complete skeletons. In some, piles of specific bones were arranged with different parts of the body all collected in one area, such as the skulls forming a single heap. Nathaniel tempered his natural prejudices with scientific knowledge and curiosity. While he was more comfortable with mechanical constructs, he understood and had even had cause to examine the workings of the machine known as the human body, and accepted that times changed, the world moved on, and cultures varied. Many practices became antiquated, even vulgar.

There was much speculation on the use of cairns. An area for decomposition was one such possibility, as some cultures believed that a person’s soul only found release to the spirit world once flesh decayed. Some societies used the cairns to interact with their dead, perhaps commune with their spirits, even to seek advice, maintaining that their departed continued to be part of an individual’s family as well as the community. Many believed some Neolithic civilisations viewed the cairns as simply “houses of the dead”. Places where the dead dwelled separate from their lives and yet still part of it. They were not tombs in the sense as the British would view them, but played an important role in the lives of those relatives left behind. Was Arnaud suggesting these small chambers had something to do with the inhabitants of Phobos? Nathaniel had considered the structures supported the corridor or perhaps the crystal city above. Granted, he had realised the shape could not be natural, but he hadn’t thought the Chaldrites had constructed them, unless they had since devolved somewhat. However, if not them, than whom? If they could build something as intricate as the crystal city, the cairns might be simple in comparison, but the materials were different. Now that he paid closer attention it occurred to him the Drobates might have built these and moved on. That still did not explain their use.

“Some cairns are divided into compartments rather like these. Unlike these, they also contain structures one can only refer to as shelves. Some have side cells, or composite chambers.”

While he would have welcomed this discussion any other time, the sense of urgency prevailed. Possibly, seeing he was frustrating Nathaniel or losing his interest, Arnaud got to the point.

“Some historians believe that cairns were not just storage or homes for the dead, but could have held great religious significance.”

“I know all this. They believed they could commune with their ancestors’ spirits.”

Arnaud shook his head. “Oui, but not just that. As with many religions, their prayer time or worship could have involved music, singing, chanting. It is believed that the design of some cairns magnified this. Combine that with…oh, darkness, atmosphere, possibly mood enhancing substances such as alcohol, and you have a recipe for what might seem to some as a spiritual experience.”

“Arnaud, there is a giant…mole creature paying us particular attention. I rather wish you would get to the point.”

Arnaud threw up his hands in what struck Nathaniel to be a very French gesture. “The cairns may have been built to heighten acoustics! Or it may have occurred by accident, but the holy men of the time would have exploited this phenomenon. In some cairns, a sound played in one area may not be heard at its origin but is amplified in another. Imagine, Nathaniel, that someone of that time hearing unusual, inexplicable sounds, might have mistaken their source, certainly believed the explanation non-secular. Many historians and archaeologists have theorised that sound played an important if not intrinsic role in their ceremonies and traditions.”

“As fascinating as this is, I do not see…”

“As well as amplification the cairns can affect sound, produce standing waves.”

Nathaniel wracked his brain. “The intensity of sound, both in the high and low frequencies?”

“Yes!”

“The result seeming to have no connection to the actual source of the sound.”

“Exactement! But even more incredible is that many believe the cairns capable of producing infrasound.”

Sounds below the range of human hearing?

Nathaniel was already nodding when Arnaud grabbed him by the arms. “Sound that cannot be heard but felt!” The geologist could barely contain his excitement.

Nathaniel ran a hand over his face, stared at the monolith. Except for the quiet hum of power, he heard no sound, but could it be producing resonances the chambers amplified in some other way? “Tell me, Arnaud, what…effects can such sounds have on humans?”

“Many. Headaches, nausea, dizziness. It can produce the sensation of flying; affect the pulse-rate. Some in the vicinity have said it felt as if sounds were coming from inside them, rather than external.”

The list explained everything. He said so.

“Yes, mon toujours. Whatever this thing was designed to do, it was broken. I no longer experience a feeling of dread.”

Now that Arnaud mentioned it, Nathaniel realised he, too, felt better.

“This thing was the source of all our fears, until you repaired it.”

“What fears did you have?”

Arnaud blinked at the question, reached out to place a hand on Nathaniel’s shoulder. “Only one.”

Before Nathaniel could respond to that or even think of a way to answer, Folkard moaned. He perspired, trembled.

If Folkard communed with the creature, could he explain their trapped friends, what the other men were doing to the Chaldrites? Could such a creature understand the concept of friendship or danger? Would it want to help them if it could?

Whatever Folkard was telling it, the Florenskiite reared up. The front of its mouth opened. Nathaniel was treated to one of the most ugly and frightening sights he’d ever seen: a long split padded tongue inside two rows of lower teeth, the roof of the mouth a hard ridge plate from which sprouted moving feelers ending in small hooks. The back of the mouth disappeared into a puckered opening that seemed to suck at the air even as he stared. It didn’t take science or imagination to work out how the creature ate. The feelers would hold its prey in place, the teeth would tear it open, and the tongue would flick the meat back into the throat to be sucked down.

Notch went flat to the ground, scurrying back, almost a combination of homage and retreat. Nathaniel believed he now knew how Notch had got the injury and thereby his name. The Florenskiite’s mouth was perfectly suited to breaking the Chaldrite shells open and scooping out the insides.

2.

“IS THAT AN Earth…er…I mean moonquake?” Carstairs enquired before giving way to another rattling cough. Oddly, despite his weakened condition or maybe because of it he seemed less affected by the sudden nausea and dizziness that many of the others had experienced. They were only just recovering from that, and now the ground was shaking.

“What is that?” Highmore asked, as if he expected someone answer.

“I don’t know,” Annabelle said, dredging up a modicum of hope, “but I wager Professor Stone has something to do with it.”

3.

AS THE CREATURE departed, Folkard climbed through the ring of cairns. The other two men chased after him, but once beneath the city they separated without a word. Above their heads, a city hung suspended, like a hive but more than that. Each chamber that housed a family hung like a pocket or pouch exactly like the crystal droplets from a chandelier. Unlike such an adornment, the branches were made of nothing more than the same glasslike material. The sight was at once breathtaking and incredibly fragile.

“Spit.”

“Pardon?” Nathaniel stared at the Frenchman.

“You are not looking.”

Turning his gaze back to the city, Nathaniel tried to see through the dazzling rays of reflected light. He concentrated on a cluster of beetles about forty feet above to which Arnaud pointed.

“Ever seen a bee make a hive?”

“’Pon my soul!” Just as bees chewed up honey to form beeswax, the beetles constructed the crystalline structures by using their mouths. Maybe not quite the spit Arnaud referred to, but Nathaniel understood why he’d used the word. The fools were collecting what they thought was treasure and it turned out to be a secretion made by insects.

“The flaking is possibly the substance breaking down. When it does, they repair. The find that the team is extracting is probably an old part of the city.”

“Or a subsidiary,” Nathaniel suggested. “Or an old tributary that once linked to here or was created before they built this.”

“Oui. Equally possible. This is the treasure they would kill us for.”

“Notch indicated another way through. A faster approach to the surface, I hope.” Nathaniel spoke but his gaze was all for the city that shimmered above, appearing as if it would fall any moment, break apart as hail or snowflakes.

“Then we best follow.” Even though Nathaniel nodded his agreement, Arnaud had to lead him away. As he took a last look back, Arnaud squeezed Nathaniel’s hand. The reality of touch broke through Nathaniel’s reluctance to leave something so beautiful behind. Something he could end up staring at it for eternity.

4.

“WE’LL BE CRUSHED!”

Although a possibility, Annabelle failed to dredge up any real fear. Only now was she beginning to understand how much the effect of Phobos had weighed. She didn’t know which of the men had shouted and she couldn’t respond because the ground vibrated so much she was in danger of biting her tongue. Still, she couldn’t wipe the smile from her face.

“I should be terrified!” Elizabeth shouted.

All Annabelle could do was nod while grinning like an idiot. Still the area truly was becoming too unstable. Taking the other woman’s hand, Annabelle pushed away from the wall, dragged Elizabeth along as she stumbled across the open space, trying to avoid tumbling rocks. Henry cried out and went down. Highmore picked him up.

“Where’s the safest spot?” Annabelle grabbed Henry’s arm.

“The overhang.” Henry pointed.

“I will manage Henry,” Annabelle said, flinging the man’s arm across her shoulders. “You two work to get Carstairs to safety.”

They obeyed, possibly more out of surprise than anything. Annabelle, and Henry followed in their wake, Annabelle trying not to laugh at the extraordinary sight they must make, staggering, a bleeding man, and a woman with a false leg pulling them off balance so that they leaned drunkenly to one side.

They’d almost made it to where Elizabeth and Highmore were now moving the other man when a sound not unlike the moon breaking apart made them turn. Common sense drove them back under the overhang so that they all crouched looking out as across the way cracks appeared. Someone yelled, “Take cover,” and they all flung themselves down just as a large quantity of stone blasted out. Blinking through the haze of dirt, Annabelle saw a pale snout amidst a furry face.

“Well, Elizabeth,” Annabelle coughed out. “I think you have your own story of derring-do to tell.”

Elizabeth began to laugh as Henry looked from one to the other and asked if they were mad.