This Dark Endeavor

CHAPTER TEN

Someone should stay behind with the horses,” said Konrad.

Despite Temerlin’s careful map, it had taken us a good half hour to find the entrance to the cave in the foothills. It was a man-size cleft in a rocky outcropping, partly hidden behind shrubs. The four of us dismounted and started to unload the gear from our saddlebags.

“The horses can take care of themselves,” Elizabeth said. “We’ll hobble them, and they can graze. I saw a creek just over there where they can drink.”

“I think you should stay with the horses,” said Konrad.

I smiled to myself, knowing what was coming.

“I’ll do no such thing,” she said indignantly. “Victor knows how capable I am.”

“I’ll vouch for it a hundred times over,” I said.

“I didn’t say you weren’t-,” Konrad tried to say.

“Then, please don’t insult me by suggesting I shouldn’t come. You stay with the horses if you like.”

“I will stay with them,” said Henry, eyeing the cave opening with some horror. “There is the small matter of my claustrophobia.”

I looked at Henry. “I didn’t know you suffered from that affliction as well.”

“Oh, yes,” he said. “Quite badly. In combination with my fear of heights and my general excess of imagination, it creates a veritable typhoon of fear.”

“A very nice turn of phrase,” said Elizabeth, filling her pack.

“Thank you,” said Henry. “In any event, you’ll want someone out here in case you get lost and need rescuing. I have brought some books to read.”

“An excellent idea,” I said, thumping him on the shoulder. “Write some poetry too while you wait.”

“Indeed,” he said, inspecting his pocket watch. “It is now nine in the morning. In order to reach the chateau before sundown, you will need to be back here no later than six o’clock.”

“Nine hours,” I said. “More than enough time for a stroll and a bit of fishing, eh, Konrad?”

“Don’t be surprised if we’re back before lunch, Henry,” he said, shouldering his rucksack.

“Be careful,” said Henry as I buckled on my scabbard. Just knowing my saber was at my hip made me feel armored, invincible.

“Konrad, you have your clock?” Henry asked.

“Of course,” he said, nodding at me. “We both do.”

We passed through the opening, and in that one step, summer evaporated. An ancient cold emanated from the stone. We’d done well in dressing warmly. The cave was large, and clearly no stranger to humans. Near the entrance the remnants of campfires were scattered about, and pictures and names were scratched on the stone walls. There was the whiff of urine and animal scat.

“Is your pack too heavy?” Konrad asked Elizabeth.

“I’ll manage it,” she said.

Mine was certainly heavier than I would’ve liked. Outside, when Konrad and I had divided up the gear, we’d made sure to make our two packs the weightiest. Elizabeth set hers down and, without preamble, pulled her skirt off over her boots. Beneath she wore a pair of pantaloons.

She caught me staring at her. “You didn’t think I was going to go caving in a dress, did you?”

“Of course not. Very sensible,” I said, hoping she couldn’t see the heat in my cheeks.

Konrad made to light the lanterns.

“Wait,” I said. “We may not need them.”

I’d been looking forward to this moment. From my rucksack I took a sealed glass container. Inside was neither oil nor wick, just a fist-size lump of dull white matter.

“What is that?” Elizabeth asked.

“Behold,” I said, “the flameless fire!”

I opened a small vent in the side of the container, and at once the white matter began to glow green, dimly at first, but then with greater intensity, casting a ghostly light about the cave.

Elizabeth gasped, drawing closer. “How does it do that? It does not burn.”

“Nor give off heat. It needs only a bit of oxygen to glow.” I sealed off the vent, and still the lump emitted its green light.

“How did you make this?” she demanded. “It’s miraculous.”

“Polidori told me where I could find the recipe.”

“You are turning into an accomplished alchemist, Victor,” she said, but I wasn’t sure her remark was entirely complimentary. “Its glow is unsettling.”

“Not at all,” I replied. “It’s merely one of earth’s elements. Phosphorous.”

“Very impressive,” said Konrad. “But I think, for exploring, our lanterns are still better.”

On point of pride I was about to protest, but I could see he was right. The lantern flames would be much brighter.

“I never meant for us to use it the whole time,” I lied. “It is in case our lanterns run out-or get wet.”

I carefully put the container back into its protective case.

Our three lanterns lit, I led the way to the back of the cave, Temerlin’s map in my hand. There were three tunnels.

“This is ours,” I said, nodding at the middle one.

With white chalk Elizabeth clearly marked the corner, and we started down the gentle slope. I took a quick glance back, at the gash of daylight from the cave mouth, and then squinted ahead into the lantern’s glow.

We were lucky. The tunnels might have been mud, but they were stone, and high-ceilinged, and we were able to walk all three of us abreast-for now, at least.

After ten minutes the passage opened out.

“Here’s the second cave.” The ceiling slanted lower here, and we stooped as we entered. I glanced at the map.

The hole was exactly where it was supposed to be. It gaped in the middle of the floor, a misshapen smile.

We crouched near the edge. A mountaineering spike jutted from the ground.

“Temerlin’s?” Elizabeth said.

“Must be,” I said, gripping it and testing its strength. “Still solid.”

“You don’t think he died down here, do you?” she said.

I must confess, gooseflesh erupted across my neck. “Wouldn’t his rope still be here, then?” I said, which I thought was reasonable enough.

“He died elsewhere,” said Konrad calmly. “Or presumably we would not have his map.”

“Quite right,” said Elizabeth with relief.

From his rucksack Konrad pulled out a hammer and a fresh mountaineering spike. “Best to use our own, don’t you think?” he said to me.

“Of course.” I readied the rope-the same knotted line we’d used in the Sturmwald. According to Temerlin’s notes, the hole was a sixty-five-foot vertical drop, hardly more than what we’d undertaken in the vulture’s tree.

I allowed Konrad to drive his spike into the rock, and then I did a second one nearby for good measure. I had been reading up on mountaineering lore (Father’s library really did have a book on everything) and proceeded to feed the rope through both spikes and tie a knot that would only get tighter the more weight was put on it.

“Don’t you need to fold the bitter end over once more?” Konrad asked, watching me carefully.

I looked up in annoyance.

“You’re doing the alpine bowline, yes?” he asked.

“Naturally,” I said. Obviously he’d read the same book. I was hardly surprised, but I was irritated now, for I’d lost my concentration and had to undo the knot and make it over.

“That’s it,” said Konrad.

“I know it is,” I said.

We tied a lantern to the end of the line and lowered it carefully. Hand over hand I counted out the length, and true to Temerlin’s word, the lantern touched down after sixty-five feet.

I went first, climbing down knot by knot, away from one lantern’s light toward the next. I paused to take a look about me. It was no narrow shaft but a huge cathedral of stone into which I descended. In the gloom I beheld great jagged walls of sparkling damp rock, sculpted into columns and deep niches like secret chapels. In places, green fungus shone like tarnished bronze.

When I touched down, I realized I was atop a tall pedestal of staggered stones, its giant steps leading to the cavern floor proper.

I cupped my hands round my mouth and called up, “Safe and sound!” Immediately my shout was amplified and echoed about by the strange walls into something unrecognizable and a bit frightening. I untied the lantern, and Konrad drew the rope back up so that he could lower down our gear. After that, Elizabeth made her descent, and then my brother.

I took a last look at our rope, our one and only way out. And then we started down the giant steps. Each was a good four feet high, and because we were off balance with our heavy packs, we lowered ourselves carefully.

“It is a marvel of nature,” breathed Elizabeth, holding high her lantern and gazing about. I noticed that she was shivering.

Before I could say anything, Konrad asked, “Are you warm enough?”

“I am, thank you,” she said.

The chill had certainly deepened. “Best to keep moving,” I said, and consulted the map once more. “That is our way, here.”

Elizabeth marked our route with chalk. This tunnel was narrower, and we had to walk single file now, heads bowed. At every intersection I paused to look at the map, and Elizabeth made sure to chalk our choice.

We proceeded slowly, for the floor was often uneven, and sometimes dropped suddenly by a foot or two. I was also worried about missing a turn. Mostly the intersections were obvious, but other times the new passages were little more than clefts in the stone, easily hidden in the shadows. Temerlin’s map lacked a good sense of scale, so I was often surprised by how quickly we reached certain intersections-or by how long it took us to reach others.

“What time is it?” I asked.

“Half past ten,” said Konrad, to my surprise. An hour and a half already! We paused to drink from our flasks, and swallow some food, but I can’t say I felt much hunger.

“How deep do you think we are?” Elizabeth asked.

“Impossible to say,” Konrad replied.

We continued on, always downward. I was starting to feel the weight of my pack, and regretted how much gear we’d brought. Konrad, however, had uttered no word of complaint, so neither would I. I kept my eyes fixed on the tunnel’s right wall, for our next turn would be there.

“Shall I navigate?” Konrad asked quietly.

“No, I have the knack of it now,” I said curtly.

My turn finally came, and with it the sound of flowing water.

“Excellent,” I said. “Temerlin mentions this. A rivulet flowing down one of the walls.”

With every step the sound of water grew-and it became more obvious that this was no mere rivulet. Mist sparkled in the light of our lanterns. And then suddenly the tunnel widened, and down one side ran a cataract.

“It’s a proper waterfall!” said Konrad.

The sight of it made my heart glad-it was wonderful to see such vital energy in this dead rocky place. I was relieved, too, for it meant the map was true and I had not misled us.

“It must be summer meltwater from the glaciers,” remarked Elizabeth. “It has been unseasonably warm lately. But… how are we to get across?”

The waterfall itself did not block our way-but the chasm into which it plunged did. I edged closer and looked down. The lantern light did not penetrate far, and I wondered just how deep it was. From below came a dim roar. On the other side of this chasm, our tunnel continued.

I swallowed and muttered, “Temerlin said it was no more than a little jump.”

“This is more than a little jump,” Konrad said.

I found the place in the notebook. “‘A short vigorous jump.’”

“He must have been very vigorous,” said Elizabeth.

“It’s not such a great distance,” I said. “Five feet?”

“Six,” said Konrad.

“Don’t go so close,” Elizabeth said to him, clutching his arm as he peered over the edge. “The stone’s wet. It might be slippery.”

“I should have thought to bring a plank,” I muttered.

“You couldn’t have known from Temerlin’s notes,” said Elizabeth kindly.

“Still,” said my brother, “if you’d shared this with us, we might have been better prepared.”

We looked at each other a moment, saying nothing.

“We have a choice,” he said now. “We can turn back and get some kind of bridge-or we jump.”

We were all silent. I could tell no one liked the idea of turning back, me especially. We had already spent at least two hours underground. If we turned back, there could be no hope of completing our quest within the day.

“Let us jump!” said Elizabeth.

Konrad looked at her with some surprise. “You’re sure?”

“I’m a good jumper,” she said.

It was true enough. She’d grown up with us and had chased and been chased in endless games.

“If she can bite a vulture, she can jump a crack,” I said.

“We have some lightweight line,” Konrad said. “We’ll hammer an anchor into the stone, and tether each jumper-just in case.”

We struck the spike deep into the tunnel floor and fastened to it a good length of rope. The other end we looped into a kind of harness that each of us would wear during our jump.

I went first. I removed my pack, tightened the harness below my armpits, and backed up. I ran for it. I made sure to push off well before the edge, and sailed over the crevasse, blinking through the waterfall’s spray. I saw the tunnel floor coming and knew I had made it. I hit the floor, skidding a bit.

“Excellent!” called out Konrad.

“A good foot to spare,” I said as I removed the harness. I coiled it and threw it back across. Konrad tossed me a lantern, which I relit so the next jumpers could better judge their landing site.

Elizabeth was ready now. She took a good long run. As she jumped, I caught my breath, for her arc seemed too low. Konrad, I saw, watched tensely, his hands encircling the line, prepared to grip. Elizabeth’s eyes were fixed on me with fierce concentration. She touched down, just, on the rim of the tunnel.

“Ha! Made it!” she said with satisfaction.

And on the slick stone, her feet went right out beneath her.

“Elizabeth!” Konrad cried.

She toppled back toward the chasm. In a second I had both hands around her forearm, pulling her to me with all my strength. I crashed to the floor with her atop me. For a few moments she just lay there panting, her breath hot in my ear. I held her tighter. I did not want to let go.

“Thank you, Victor,” she said, sitting up and rubbing at her bloodied knees. She sounded more angry than grateful. “You’ve saved my life.”

“Perhaps you’ll forgive me, then,” I whispered.

“Are you all right?” Konrad called out.

“Yes, it was a close thing, though,” said Elizabeth.

Konrad threw across the rest of our gear before making his own jump. It went well, and after he’d landed and was taking off his harness, Elizabeth burst into tears. Konrad enfolded her in his arms.

He looked at me over her shoulder. “We should not have brought her. It is too much. We were foolish and selfish.”

Elizabeth pushed free of his embrace, and her wet eyes now blazed.

“I’ve had a bad fright, and a cry-yes, tears come more easily to young women than men perhaps-but now I’m done, and I’m ready to carry on.” She wiped at her eyes. “Which way now?” she asked, her voice steady.

And so we continued on.

We went farther. We went deeper. My clock told me it was nearing noon.

Our tunnel gradually contracted, and we had to crawl single file, dragging our packs behind us. I felt a new sympathy for Henry. I had never before been bothered by small spaces, but this rat’s maze threatened to rob me of breath.

“Did Temerlin make any mention of this?” Konrad asked behind me.

“Nothing. Maybe he was too busy blinking dust out of his eyes.”

“You’re sure we are on the right path?”

I gazed again at the map. “I’m sure of it. I’ve missed no turn.”

Konrad sighed. “Then, on we go.”

A sense of responsibility crushed down against me, as powerfully as the stone. I could not let myself be wrong. But after a few more minutes, as if to confirm my worst fears, the walls of our tunnel shrank even tighter. I stopped.

“Is it a dead end?” Konrad asked.

“Not quite.”

I pressed myself tightly against one side of the tunnel so he might see the slit-shaped hole directly before us.

I stuck my lantern through. “It widens quickly on the other side,” I reported.

“But can we reach the other side?” he asked.

“How could a grown man have fit through there?” Elizabeth demanded when she saw the opening.

“Temerlin must’ve been very thin,” I said. I would not voice my fear, but it beat wildly in my chest.

“I’ll have a try,” said Konrad. “If I can do it, you can do it.”

I did not argue with him this time. There was something about the gash that terrified me.

“And if you two can do it,” Elizabeth said, “I will surely have no problem.”

We both watched as Konrad tried to push and twist and fold his body through the gap. It seemed he would never fit, and then suddenly he was on the other side.

“It’s not so bad!” he called back to us. “Hand me a lantern, Victor, and come.”

“I’m coming,” I said, and sipped some water from my flask, willing my stomach to stop churning.

There was only one spot wide enough for my head, and I had to twist it most unnaturally to push it through.

“It’s like… being born again,” I gasped as I narrowed my shoulders and tried to ease them past the bony contraction of rock. I could not. I tried to fold myself even tighter, shoved with my feet. I hated to think of the spectacle I must be making to Elizabeth, my feet scrabbling, bottom waggling. But my embarrassment quickly became panic.

“I’m stuck!” I said.

“You can do it,” Konrad said. “Our bodies are the same.”

“ You have lost weight,” I said. “You’re skinnier!”

I felt a sudden crazed anger in me. I was an animal snared in a trap, knowing escape was impossible. Konrad had tricked me! He had lured me into this!

“I can’t move!” I bellowed. “I can’t breathe!”

“Be calm, Victor,” I heard Elizabeth say behind me. “We will ease you through.”

My left arm was pinned tightly, and my right flailed about uselessly. I was as helpless as a newborn. There was a sudden warmth around my hips and I wondered in horror if I’d wet myself. Then I felt Elizabeth’s hands around my waist.

“What’re you doing?” I cried out.

“Applying grease,” she said.

“You brought grease?”

“For just such a thing. I found a very informative book on cave exploration in your father’s library. Now, Konrad, can you pull?”

Konrad seized my upper right arm, and I felt Elizabeth shoving from behind.

“Now!” she said. “Pull him, Konrad!”

For a moment I didn’t budge. Then I shot forward, tumbling upon my brother in a heap. As we disentangled ourselves, I began to laugh hysterically in relief.

“Are you all right?” he asked me.

“I feel wonderful,” I gasped. “Who wouldn’t?”

“You maniac,” he said, but soon we were both laughing uncontrollably.

“When you boys are quite finished,” Elizabeth said, passing our gear through the opening. Then she eased her slim figure effortlessly through. We sat for a moment, putting our things to rights, eating some food.

“It’s strange,” Konrad said, chuckling, “because Mother always said I was born easily but you took your time.”

“Two minutes only,” I objected.

Elizabeth shook her head. “No. You got stuck.”

Both Konrad and I looked at her in utter surprise.

“Really, Elizabeth,” he said, “this is a rather indelicate subject for a young-”

“Honestly, Konrad, don’t be such a prude,” she said.

“Did I really get stuck?” I asked her.

“Boys never remember these stories properly,” she said with a sniff. “Girls do because we know it awaits us. You,” she said, looking at me sternly, “nearly killed your mother.”

“She never told me-”

“You were all twisted the wrong way, and the midwife nearly wasn’t able to get you turned round properly.”

I nodded mutely. Glancing back at the opening, I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the underground cold. I was very glad to see that up ahead the tunnel enlarged.

“Let’s continue on,” I said, eager to leave behind the subject of my awkward and life-threatening birth. I did not care for this image of myself as a wailing baby-and did not want Elizabeth to think of me so.

Down and down. Gradually the ceiling lifted. We crouched, then hunched, then stood tall and stretched, groaning in relief.

“Which way now?” Konrad asked, for our tunnel suddenly branched into three. The first angled gently upward, the other two downward-one of them quite steeply.

I looked at the map, sickened. There was no such branching indicated.

“There’s only one passage marked here,” I mumbled.

Konrad stepped closer. “Perhaps you’re reading it incorrectly.”

I pointed at the spot where we should have been.

“We’re lost,” said Konrad. “You should’ve let me help navigate.”

“You mean take over entirely,” I snapped.

“Two sets of eyes are better than one.”

“My eyes are quite capable of reading a map, Konrad!”

“You have been too greedy with it, Victor,” said Elizabeth quietly. “You might have let us share the responsibility.”

This stung deepest. Humiliation and jealousy choked my voice. “You think him a better leader, do you?”

“I did not say that-”

Konrad snorted. “It’s this pigheadedness that has gotten us lost.”

I shoved him hard against the wall-my twin, who, mere weeks ago, had been bedridden with fever. He lost his balance and fell.

“Victor!” I heard Elizabeth cry above the pounding in my ears.

Immediately I was overcome with guilt and reached out to help him to his feet. “Are you all ri-”

He grabbed me by the arm and shoulder and hurled me against the wall, then stood before me, glowering, his fists raised. I clenched mine, ready to spring.

“Stop it!” shouted Elizabeth. “Both of you, stop!”

There was such anger and authority in her voice that we both turned to look at her.

“Don’t you dare put this venture at risk!” she said.

Konrad sighed heavily and dropped his fists. “This venture is at an end. We must turn back.”

“Turn back?” I exclaimed.

“To continue on without a map would be madness.”

“Elizabeth can mark our every turn with chalk!”

“Shush!” she said.

“Do not shush me!” I shouted.

“I hear something!” she said.

We listened. Far, far away came a low murmur. For a skin-prickling moment it sounded like people whispering.

“Water,” said Elizabeth.

Konrad nodded. “But from where?”

He moved a ways down each of the tunnels in turn.

“I think it must be this one,” Konrad said at the threshold of the ascending passage.

“No, it is this one,” said Elizabeth, standing at the steepest downward-sloping tunnel. “The sound is clearest here. Victor, what do you say?”

I tried all three tunnels. It was virtually impossible to decide, for I thought I heard the whisper of water everywhere now.

“I don’t know,” I said, defeated.

“I do,” said Elizabeth. “This way our pool awaits.”

Konrad looked at her, then at me.

I nodded. “I trust her.”

“Very well. We can always turn back if we find nothing. Mark the turning, Elizabeth.”

Triumphantly she chalked the stone. “You are lucky to have my ears along with you.”

“We’re lucky to have all of you along,” said Konrad, and won a chuckle from her.

I wished I had the quick wit to make such flirtatious compliments.

We started down the tunnel, and the lapping sound grew stronger.

“You see?” Elizabeth said. “I was right.”

Quite suddenly the tunnel angled sharply upward.

“The floor is damp here,” Konrad said.

I ran my fingers along the slick stone. “The walls, too.”

For some minutes we walked uphill, puffing. Then the tunnel leveled off and opened out onto the sloped rocky shore of a vast pool.

“We found it!” Elizabeth exclaimed.

Its surface was not glassy smooth, as I’d imagined, but slowly swirling, as though in the grips of many hidden currents.

“I cannot see the bottom,” Konrad said, holding his lantern out.

“The light!” I said, remembering. “Trim your wicks. We don’t want to scare away the coelacanth!”

As our lanterns faded, a new light dawned in the cave, for the walls and low ceiling were glazed with some kind of strange mineral that emitted a purplish twilight.

“I wonder how deep it is,” I whispered, looking at the black water. Was it fed by the lake alone, or was there an even deeper source, fed by the waterfall? As I gazed at the pool’s surface, a portion of it shimmered, and a blue silhouette moved beneath it, its scales sparkling in the half-light.

“That’s him,” I breathed. “The coelacanth!”

It was but a quick glimpse, and then the creature disappeared into the depths. We all looked at one another, smiling. We had done it. We’d descended the caves and found the pool, and now all that was left was to catch the fish itself!

“I got no proper sense of his size,” said Konrad.

“It was too fast,” I agreed.

“He was a marvelous dark blue,” whispered Elizabeth. “Did you see those white markings?”

Hurriedly Konrad and I assembled our rods and tackle. Earlier this morning when William and Ernest had seen us with our gear, they’d eagerly started to hunt the garden for worms. They hadn’t realized that we’d need more substantial bait for what we sought. According to Polidori, the coelacanth ate other fish, things as big as small squids. But we’d let our younger brothers proudly present us with their pail of worms, and had promised to bring them back our prize. We’d brought heavy line, for we knew from Polidori’s specimen that these fish grew large.

We baited our hooks with the pickerel we’d bought from a local fishmonger after setting off from the chateau. Then we cast into different sections of the pool and stood back, paying out our weighted lines. Down and down and down they went, until I was afraid we would run out of line before we hit bottom.

“A hundred feet at least,” said Konrad finally, reeling back in a little.

“Will he eat?” whispered Elizabeth. “What if he’s satisfied his hunger already?’

“He won’t resist such easy food,” I murmured confidently. But as the minutes ticked by, I was not so sure. Maybe this creature did not care for pickerel. Water lapped at the toes of my boots, and I shuffled back a few steps.

Suddenly my rod gave a jerk and the line raced out.

“He’s taken it!” I cried.

“Don’t try to stop him yet!” Konrad cautioned.

I watched where my line entered the water. The coelacanth was moving swiftly, spiraling lower in the pool.

“He’ll have all my line before long!” I said, eyeing my reel nervously.

Ever so slightly I increased the drag, and needed to lean back with all my weight. I didn’t like to ask for help, but I had no choice.

“I’ll need you to hold me, both of you,” I said. “He’s too powerful!”

“Coming!” said Konrad, and At that very moment the tip of his own rod dipped low, and his reel spun furiously.

Our lines, I noticed, were angled in exactly the same direction.

“He’s taken both our hooks!” cried Konrad.

I felt the strain on my rod lighten. This was good news indeed.

“He has the two of us to contend with now!” I said.

“The Frankenstein boys will bring him in!” hooted Konrad. “Let him tire himself.”

“Good, good!” I said, feeling a surge of exhilaration. I was not thinking about Elizabeth or my jealousy-only working with my twin.

“I think he begins to slow,” said Konrad after a few minutes.

“Gently now,” I said, and we both increased the drag on our reels. My feet felt wet, and when I glanced down, once again I saw that water was lapping against them.

“Konrad,” I said, my pulse quickening. “The water’s rising.”

“What?” He glanced over at me in confusion, then down at his boots, wet to the ankle.

I realized that we’d unknowingly backed up very close to the cavern’s wall. There was not much more room to retreat.

“The pool must be filling from beneath,” Elizabeth said. “That waterfall…”

She hurried to pull back our packs and keep them dry.

“We don’t have much time,” said Konrad. “It rises quickly.”

“If it overflows the ledge,” said Elizabeth, “it will begin to fill the tunnel.”

“Temerlin made no mention of this,” I muttered. But I remembered the wet floor and walls as we’d approached. This was no rare occurrence.

“We’ll have the fish any moment,” I said, leaning back to test its strength.

“Definitely he tires,” agreed Konrad.

“There he is!” cried Elizabeth, pointing.

Once again the blue form shimmered below the surface, but this time he actually broke it for a moment-and for the first time we saw his full size. I swallowed.

“He’s seven feet!”

“We will have him, though!” said Konrad. “His fight is gone. Let’s reel in.”

All at once the coelacanth flashed out of sight, Konrad’s line snapped, and the full power of the fish was in my hands. Instinctively, foolishly, I gripped my rod tighter and was instantly yanked off the rocky ledge. I was pulled some twenty feet through the air, and then crashed into the pool.

The cold was like a hammer blow. It was all I could do to keep my head above the water and fill my lungs with air. I felt like a ship trapped in ice, slowly being crushed. The fishing rod was long gone from my hands. I was dimly aware of my name being called, voices echoing everywhere. My clothes and boots were heavy with water. Sluggishly I turned to face the shore, the lanterns, Konrad and Elizabeth.

I tried to kick, but my legs hardly moved. Were they so numb already? Then I felt a painful tightening around them, and realized they were bound together by loops of fishing line, cinched by the circling coelacanth.

I dragged my sodden arms through the water, my legs lashing up and down like a fish tail.

“Victor! Stay still!” cried Elizabeth.

“What?” I gasped.

“It will think you’re a squid! They eat squids!”

I looked around in terror. And then, suddenly, it shot past me, not a foot away. Its length was one thing, but its width was equally worrying. How much could it swallow? It seemed to take forever to pass-and then it began to circle.

“Konrad!” I shouted. “My saber!”

I saw him scramble through my gear and grab the sword. He threw it. The blade flashed in the lantern light, and I caught the saber in my cold-clawed hand.

“I’m coming, Victor!” he cried.

He was kicking off his boots, stripping down to his shirt. He snatched up his own saber.

The coelacanth plowed past, so close that it grazed me, its jagged scales rasping against my clothing-and possibly my flesh, but I was so cold I felt nothing. Twice I stabbed at it with my sword, and was dismayed when the blade deflected off as though from armor. The fish’s muscular flank swatted me. My head went under. I lost grip of my sword. I choked on the cold water, and came up spluttering, weaponless.

The fish was coming straight at me now, its mouth wide, and wider still. It did not have many teeth, but those it had looked very sharp. I flailed at it with my feet, trying to kick it away. With its head it batted my legs effortlessly to one side and came at my torso.

Before I could raise my fist to pound its head, it took my entire arm into its mouth. Its teeth closed around my bicep, not tearing, not gnawing, just gripping. I screamed in pain. Against my hand and forearm its fleshy maw contracted and sucked, trying to drag me in deeper.

I heard a splash, and seconds later Konrad surfaced beside me, like some Greek hero, his face alabaster and fierce with cold. In his hand was his saber.

“It has me!” I cried.

I tried again to drag my arm out, but the fish’s teeth were sunk into my flesh and every movement was agony. With my free hand I punched and pummeled the fish’s head, but it seemed to feel nothing. Its throat sucked and spasmed wetly around my arm.

Konrad struck the coelacanth. His first two hits were deflected, but the third went deep. And yet the blade seemed to have no effect on the brute. Konrad yanked his sword out and drew back his arm for another strike.

“Where should I aim?” he cried out.

“Its eye!” yelled Elizabeth from the shore.

“Watch my arm!” I hollered at my twin, for fear he’d impale me. “Hurry!”

“Stay still!”

“I can’t stay still!” I roared. “It’s eating my arm!”

Konrad drove his saber into the fish’s right eye. It thrashed violently and its mouth opened. I yanked my numb arm clear.

Konrad struck once more with his blade, a brilliant upward thrust through the roof of the creature’s gaping mouth and into its tiny brain. The fish gave a spasm and then was still, rolling over onto its side.

“Come, let’s get you back.” Konrad helped drag me to the shore, and then turned back to retrieve the fish. Elizabeth pulled my body onto the ledge, which was now completely submerged under several inches of water.

My arms and legs were almost too cold to bend. Elizabeth helped me to my feet. Luckily she’d found a deep ledge several feet up the wall where she’d jammed our packs. From one, she now pulled a dry blanket.

“Take your shirt off!” she ordered me. My numb fingers could not manage the buttons, so she started to undo them. I stared at her, mesmerized by her beauty. Then, in exasperation, she just ripped the entire sodden shirt from my chest.

I saw her gaze fly to my right arm, and I looked too. I’d actually forgotten my injury, for the cold numbed all pain. There were three blue triangular gashes where the coelacanth’s teeth had pierced and held me. The surrounding skin was blanched white, but even as I watched, the color began to return, and with it, the wounds slowly welled with blood.

She put the blanket around my shoulders. “Dry off,” she told me.

From her pack she produced bandages and a bottle of antiseptic unguent, which she applied on my wounds before wrapping the cloth tightly around my arm. I was shivering violently now.

She came close and hugged me, rubbing my back and shoulders.

“I like this,” I murmured, teeth chattering.

Konrad reached the shore, gasping with exertion, dragging the fish. It took all three of us to wrestle its seven-foot bulk onto the ledge.

“We did it!” Konrad said, grasping me by the shoulders.

“I was just the bait,” I said.

Elizabeth was looking at the pool in horror. “The water’s overflowing down the tunnel! We need to go!”

There was no question of bringing the entire fish. Polidori had said the head was more than adequate, and so Konrad began to hack at it with his saber.

“Hurry!” Elizabeth cried.

Finally he severed the head, wrapped it tightly in oilcloth, and crammed it into his rucksack.

We turned up the wicks of our lanterns and made all haste, for the water was up to our knees now. When the tunnel angled downward, the water pushed hard against our legs and, after a few minutes, our waists.

“No,” breathed Konrad, peering into the distance.

Then I saw. At the tunnel’s lowest point, before the passage tilted sharply up, the water was nearing the ceiling. We were being cut off.

“Run!” I shouted.

It was impossible to run, loaded down as we were, up to our armpits in water. Elizabeth tripped and nearly disappeared under the surface. Her lantern snuffed out instantly. With my good arm I grabbed her and dragged her back to her feet. Ahead the tunnel was all but sealed. We slogged on with all our strength and speed, the icy water at our necks, spilling down our collars.

Konrad and I held our lanterns high. We had but seconds before our heads would be covered.

“We must get through!” Konrad cried. “It’s only a few yards until the passage slopes up again on the other side!”

“The water’s current will speed us!” I said. “Go, go now!” The water was at my mouth.

“Hold hands!” Elizabeth cried, grasping out for us.

Our lanterns fizzled out, and the darkness was more intense than anything I’d ever known. I gulped air and went under, half swimming, half trudging, clutching my lantern. My hand slipped from Elizabeth’s. The glacial water churned and pushed at me-and my greatest fear was that I’d get turned around and die in the flood.

Was the tunnel floor rising now? It was hard to tell in all the darkness and crushing cold. I forged ahead until I had no more breath, and then pushed up, slapping about with my hands. Water. More water, and then Air! Was it air?

My head came up and I gasped. I wallowed ahead, water still up to my shoulders and rising fast.

“Konrad? Elizabeth?”

“I’m here!” came my brother’s voice. “Elizabeth?”

There was a splash, and coughing. “Victor! Konrad!”

“We’re all here,” said Konrad, and I felt hands against me, all of us reaching out for the others.

“Forward!” I cried. “The water’s still coming!”

“Up ahead,” panted Konrad, “at the intersection, there’s another downward tunnel-”

“The water will take that course,” I said.

We slogged uphill, soaking cold and leaden with exhaustion. But we could not slow, for the flood was always at our armpits or necks. I fought for every step, every breath. We called out to one another, just to make sure we were all still there, all alive.

The water was at my waist, then my calves, and then, suddenly, it gave me a last final push and I staggered and fell onto wet stone. On all fours I crawled until the floor beneath me was dry.

“This way!” I called out.

“Are we all here?” Konrad shouted.

“Light the lanterns!” cried Elizabeth.

“It’s no use,” came my twin’s voice. “The wicks are sodden. Victor-”

“Half a moment,” I said, fumbling in my rucksack. My hands grasped the wet case, and I carefully slid out the glass container. At once the tunnel was bathed in a green glow.

“We are glad of the flameless fire now, are we not?” I said to Konrad, my teeth chattering.

“Glad indeed,” he said.

“You’re a genius, Victor!” said Elizabeth, and her words warmed me.

Behind us I saw the water, still welling up from the tunnel, curving round in a frothing serpentine torrent to plunge down the other descending passage. For a moment we all sat there and watched, numb and exhausted.

“The light is wonderful,” said Elizabeth, “but did any of you think to bring a change of clothes?”

Miserably I shook my head, as did Konrad.

How could we not have thought of such a thing?

“In that caving book I found,” Elizabeth said, shuddering, “it said the most common cause of death was getting wet and cold. So I packed a waterproof pouch and put in a change of clothes for myself-and you two as well.”

“Elizabeth-,” I said, and was rendered speechless by my gratitude and admiration.

“Thank you,” gasped Konrad.

“Now,” she said, rooting around in her rucksack and producing dry clothing for us, “strip off your wet things. Get as dry as you can before putting on the fresh ones.” She looked at us impatiently. “Get on with it! I won’t peek, and you two mustn’t either.”

She turned her back on us and went down the tunnel a ways to change.

Shivering, I stripped, trying to mop the water off my skin. In the green light I looked like some shriveled goblin. As frigid as I was, it took a good deal of willpower not to turn my head and take a quick peek at Elizabeth.

“It’s a pity we can’t have a fire to warm up,” she said when we were all changed.

“We must get to the surface as quickly as we can,” I said.

Even in the dry clothes I was cold. And our boots were still sodden, but there was nothing we could do about that.

“What time is it?” Elizabeth asked.

Konrad fished about in his pocket and dragged out his clock. “The face is shattered. Yours, Victor?”

When I retrieved mine, I saw that the glass was filled with water and the hands were motionless at three o’clock. I showed it to my brother.

“Coming on four, then,” he said.

“It took us three hours to get down here,” I said, “and that was downhill, and when we were rested.”

“Let’s go,” said Elizabeth. “Our exertion will warm us. And your fabulous green light will make sure we don’t miss my markings.”

We silently began our march. I couldn’t have talked if I’d wanted to, my teeth chattered so violently. Every so often we forced ourselves to eat some soggy food and drink cold water from our flasks.

One foot after the other. I did not know if I was slowly warming, or getting number still. I was not sure what I felt-until I was suddenly on my knees, Elizabeth beside me.

“His wound’s bleeding badly,” she said to Konrad.

“It’s nothing,” I said.

“You nearly fainted, Victor.” She was pulling bandages from her pack and removing the old bloodstained one. She dressed my wound once more. I stood.

“Are you all right?” Konrad asked me.

“Let’s just get out of here,” I said.

Time did not exist down there. Ancient rock, ancient fish. I would not have been surprised if a century had passed aboveground. I might have been sleepwalking, even as I squeezed once more through the tunnel’s birth canal and jumped again over the waterfall’s chasm. And then more walking.

We had our coelacanth head. That was what I kept telling myself as we carried on, dragging our bodies up from the bowels of the earth. That was all that kept me going.

When we reached the cave with our rope, I nearly cried-with gratitude and despair both, for I feared I did not have the strength to make that final climb. I sat down on the lowest step of the stone pedestal to catch my breath.

“Victor! Elizabeth! Konrad!”

The voice came from overhead, and with it the blaze of a torch.

“Henry?” I called. “Henry!”

I peered up and saw his face leaning over the hole. It was impossible to imagine a more welcome sight.

“You have been so long!” he called down. “It’s nearly nine o’clock! I was almost demented with worry!”

“We’re here, Henry,” said Konrad. “Triumphantly here. Give us a hand, and we will all be up in a minute!”