The Sea Below

by William Meikle

  His blood was well and truly up now, all thought of caution thrown to the wind as the stench of blood and the roar of battle brought the soldier to the fore. He strode into the mass of baboons like an avenging angel, howling a battle cry of his own as the saber swung and cut and butchered. All pretence at defence abandoned, Stefan joined Danny, bellowing like an angry bull, still swinging the rifle like a club, scattering the baboons left and right while Elsa harried at them.

  Finally, the baboons retreated in the face of the men's fury, or at least tried to. Danny and Stefan pressed forward and kept at them all the way across the clearing to the edge of the forest, both of them yelling like men possessed. Danny only stopped hacking when it was obvious he was only cutting through the fleshy leaves.

  The baboons were gone, leaving twenty or more of their number as dead and butchered corpses behind them.

  Danny and Stefan yelled in triumph, before realising that Ed was not joining them. The younger man was in the center of the clearing on his knees, with a dead baboon in front of him and blood dripping off his nose from a bleeding scalp wound.

  "Dashed thing tried to rip my hair off while I was still wearing it," Ed said, his face pale but his eyes full of the fire of battle. Danny clapped him on the shoulder.

  "You'll live, lad. Come on, up you get. Get your pistol reloaded; we've got to move out before those buggers come back."

  Two minutes later Danny led them out again. The trail was wider here and he strode with more purpose than before. It had been a victory. Only a small one, but hope had been rekindled.

  They reached the edge of the forest with no further incident. From here flat, rocky ground stretched away towards the settlement and castle at the far end of the island, with no sign of life save the hardy grasses scattered here and there in cracks in the rock. Danny didn't slow.

  "The boy needs stitches in his wound," Stefan said. "The bleeding will not stop."

  "Let's get to one of yon brochs first," Danny said. "I'd like to have walls around me in case the wee bastards get our scent again."

  By the time they reached the dwellings, Ed was white as a sheet and unsteady on his legs.

  "The castle," the younger man said, "I can make it to the castle."

  "Nope," Danny said. "That delight can wait. You need that wound looked at, then food and rest, in that order."

  The first broch they came to was too much tumbled in ruin, but the second was as solid as their previous shelter on the shore, a bonus being that it had retained a sturdy door despite its centuries of being uninhabited. Danny raided a third broch, breaking its old door down for firewood and soon they had a blaze going, a spit turning with a rabbit on it, and Stefan had his sewing kit out, showing off his needlework skills on Ed's scalp.

  Danny stood in the doorway, pistol in hand, staring out across the open ground to the forest, then raising his gaze to the fire-ravaged area beyond. Flames flared in the distance, tarry drips falling aflame from a still-burning roof but for now the worst of the fire had burned itself out. It had left behind an even darker cavern at that end of the island and a burnt taste in the air that even a cigarette couldn't dispel completely.

  "We need a plan," Danny said without turning. "Ever since we got here we've been lurching from one crisis to another. That stops now; I'm in charge of my own destiny, dammit. I do not live at the whim of a roaring fire or a colony of bloody baboons."

  Stefan replied first.

  "As for myself," he said, "I miss my flock and the feel of sun on my face. If the plan is to find the quickest way back up top, then it will get my vote."

  Ed surprised Danny by agreeing with the shepherd.

  "The sooner we get back, the happier I'll be," he said. "We have been ill-prepared for voyages such as this. I will know better next time."

  "Next time, don't tell me about it," Danny replied. "I intend to be too busy with women and liquor to help out. But yes, the plan is to return to our lives. I am open to suggestions as to how to proceed from where we have managed to get ourselves."

  Ed came and joined Danny in the doorway. Stefan had shaved away several inches of scalp above his left eye and thick black stitches held together the lips of a two-inch tear in his flesh. But the lad at least had some color back, although his eyes were sunk in deep shadows and he looked like he hadn't slept for a week.

  "You mentioned boats," Ed said. "I think that's our first priority."

  "Are you willing to trust our luck to the water again? With yon big serpent boogers around?"

  "It's either that and attempt a return back to the shore we left, or live out our lives on this rock, isn't it? Unless there's another option I haven't considered?"

  "No, you have the right of it. There's risk in any direction. At least if we die on the water, we die trying to get home. As I said, I prefer to be in charge of my own destiny, so boats it is then; we'll search yon castle and environs first as that'll be our best chance. But even before that, you need to rest, lad. You're out on your feet."

  It was a sign of just how tired the lad was that Ed didn't argue, just went back to sit with Stefan by the fire.

  They had to wake Ed up to give him a share of the rabbit once it was cooked and he was asleep again soon afterwards as a result of a hefty swig of Stefan's brandy.

  The shepherd shook the skin bag sadly.

  "Almost gone," he said.

  "Aye. My whisky is likewise depleted. I've got plenty of tobacco left, so there's that at least."

  Danny was back in the doorway on guard. Stefan came to join him, Elsa deciding to lie down by the fire with Ed. The shepherd passed over the near-empty skin of liquor.

  "You mentioned women, my friend," Stefan said. "Is there one in particular, perhaps waiting for you even now?"

  Danny shook his head.

  "None. I have been too busy playing the soldier to settle down. First I was too young, then too far away from civilised ladies and now, probably, too old. But I have seen things most men can only dream of. I would not swap the life."

  Stefan waved a hand to encompass the view over the island.

  "And you are still seeing them, even now. As for myself, there was a wife, once. I said before it was a story for later. Well, it appears it is later. Shall we finish this brandy? I might not get a chance to tell it again."

  The shepherd had finally articulated what Danny had been refusing to do; there might not be too much of life ahead of them. Danny made up two smokes and passed one to the shepherd who lit it and took a deep draw on the brandy before speaking.

  "She was my… how do you say...sweetheart. I knew her as a lass in our small school, and she had my heart even then. Seventeen we were when we were married. We were never blessed with children, but that didn't matter. We had each other. For nearly twenty years we had each other. It wasn't long enough."

  Stefan stared into the fire and Danny thought he was done, but then he spoke again, even quieter.

  "She died at my feet. It was as if a thunderbolt took her; one second she was in the kitchen talking to me, the next she was on the floor, her eyes glazed like a china doll, her chest silent. I tried all the tricks I have learned from rescuing the flock on the hills, but none would bring her back. The doctor said her heart had given out, but I think God took her because she was too good for this world."

  He fell silent again, tears rolling down his cheeks, but he still wasn't done.

  "I said I missed my flock. That is true. It has been all that sustains me since she left. But there is something here too that stirs the blood. Although I am still only miles from where I have been most of my life, this feels like an adventure. I think she would not begrudge me it."

  Danny touched his bloodied tunic, where he still wore the blood and tissue of the baboons, there having been no time to wash it off.

  "A dashed bloody adventure at that," Danny said. "But I know what you mean, and so does the lad there. Even if we do return to hearth and home, this place will keep calling him back. And despite what I said ea
rlier, I would return with him, if he asked it of me. And I'd be dashed glad to have you at my side."

  Danny raised the skin of brandy and shook it.

  "There is just enough for a last toast together. To adventure!"

  He took a swig and passed it over. Stefan was about to reply when their conversation was interrupted by a sound from out in the jungle.

  The roar of the great cat echoed across the island.

  -Ed-

  Ed woke with a pounding headache like a drum bearing inside his skull and inadvertently bought himself a flash of white pain when he touched his fingers to the sticky scalp wound.

  Danny was asleep on the other side of the fire, while Stefan and Elsa guarded the door.

  Ed groaned as he pushed himself to his feet, having to stand still for several seconds before he was sure he wasn't going to fall back to the ground.

  "I can take watch for a time if you need some sleep?" he said, but the shepherd shook his head.

  "I had a spell earlier; you have been out for many hours, my young friend. And if truth be told, you look like you need more time yet to recover."

  Ed moved to pass Stefan and head outside. The shepherd blocked his way.

  "Danny said no," Stefan said. "The big cat-thing is on the prowl. It is all I can do to stop Elsa throwing herself into the fray; I do not need to be looking out for you too."

  "I merely want a look at that castle," Ed said.

  "To quote our sleeping friend, the castle can wait. Ease yourself, rest. There is more of the rabbit, there is water and we have tobacco although the brandy is sadly gone. Be content, for a time at least. I have a feeling we will need all of our strength in the days to come if we are to escape this place."

  Once Ed saw that the shepherd would not be swayed, he contented himself with a survey of the interior of this broch. It was built on the same principles as the others they'd seen, and here too there were row upon row of the stick figures. He retrieved his notebook from his pack and compared the figures on these walls with the ones he'd transcribed earlier. It didn't take long to notice that there were definite repeating patterns common to both sets but he still had no clue as to what these might represent, or why they were inscribed on the walls of the dwellings.

  He was still mulling over the problem when Danny woke and stretched.

  "A good morning to all," he said, laughing. "What does a man have to do to get a beer around here?"

  "If it is in fact a good morning," Ed replied, "then on our return I shall gladly stand for beer all day back in that bar in London where I found you."

  "Now then, that gives me something to strive for, lad," Danny said, rising. "And it gives me impetus to get started. Are you hale enough to take a wander over to yon castle?"

  "I am ready when you are."

  Danny sniffed at his armpits and touched the dried gore on the front of his tunic.

  "Now all I need is a bath."

  "I think we could all do with one," Ed answered, laughing, realising that he too was liberally coated in blood, although in his case it was mostly his own.

  They broke camp ten minutes later. They met no resistance while making their way through the settlement and reached a causeway that stretched off for fifty yards, sea on both sides of a two-yard wide stone track that had been built of the same stone as the brochs. They took the opportunity to bathe, two staying on watch while the other washed, fully clothed, trusting on the warm air to dry them off once back on land. While Ed was washing off the blood and grime, he took the opportunity to look across the causeway to the castle that waited for them.

  It too was built of the same basaltic stone as the brochs but this had clearly been a much larger, even monumental, operation. As he'd noted from afar, in outline it looked almost pyramidical, but now they were close he saw it was rather a series of circular tiers atop each other, each of diminishing size, rising like an expensive piece of wedding confectionery to a central spire on top of which was a balconied chamber looking out over the expanse of sea.

  Not for the first time Ed wondered what manner of hands, if there had even been hands as he knew them, had built this place, and in what long aeons past. By the time the others, Elsa included, had finished their ablutions, Ed was champing at the bit to see what might lie inside.

  In contrast to the towers at the dark end of the island the way up the castle walls was via an exterior stairwell, there being no obvious entranceway into the main structure; they circumnavigated the whole structure just to make sure. Neither did they find any boats, nor any evidence there had ever been a harbor or quayside.

  "Looks like we go up," Danny said. "If nothing else, it looks like a spot we can defend."

  Ed studied the steps warily. They were set on the same pattern as those in the dark turret, having been built for something with a longer stride length than a man. But they were wide enough to traverse safely, almost enough for two of the men to ascend side by side. Before taking the first step, Ed studied the stonework of the walls and was almost disappointed to see none of the serried ranks of stick figures, no carvings of any kind, only cold black stone.

  They fell into what had become their standard positions, with Danny taking the lead, Ed in the middle and Stefan bringing up the rear with Elsa at his heel. There were five levels, each one of them in itself a walled fortification; the only way an attack could take the building would be by using the stairs. At one time there had been heavy wooden gates at the top of each flight but they had long since fallen prey to time and hung, rotted timbers on what was left of thick ropes.

  "They'll make good firewood if nothing else," Danny remarked as they passed the gate for the second level. Before continuing up the steps Danny went farther along the walled walkway to take in the view. They looked down across the whole length of the island. Ed tried to trace the trail they had taken on their journey here; he looked past the forest, to the slopes of the old volcano and past that to the land newly blackened by the fire that he had set. Apart from a pair of the great bats spiralling lazily far above there was no sign of life save themselves. Ed wondered if the baboons ever roamed into this settlement, then pushed the thought away; he'd seen more than enough of the monkeys without wishing them any closer.

  He saw that Danny was looking away to the open sea on their right. There was a commotion several hundred yards out. The great bats swooped and dived like seagulls, plucking what Ed took to be fish from the water's surface. And amid the turmoil on the water, pale backs of serpent things rose and fell, showing great tail flukes as they dived, gaping maws as they surfaced to swallow fish by the bucketful. He counted six separate serpents, each distinguishable by the shape of their backs or notches on their flukes. These waters were more populated than they had imagined.

  "I've seen this before," Danny said. "Off the Cape. Feeding frenzy the boat's Captain called it. Of course it was whales and gannets then but it looks like the behaviour is the same."

  "Whatever it is," Stefan said, "it shows us the water is not safe to venture upon."

  "Aye. We knew that already though," Danny said, and without another word headed for the stairs to the next level.

  By the time they reached the top, Ed's calves were complaining and his headache had returned with a vengeance, a pounding like a great drum in his skull. Danny led them up and into the high chamber with the balcony. The only thing above them now was a tapering spire. They were high enough to see the farthest extent of the underground ocean far off in the distance, the same cliffs from which they'd set sail what seemed like a lifetime ago now. But Ed's eyes weren't on the view, they were on the center of the balconied area. At first he took it for a firepit, but as he stepped closer he saw it was an internal passageway, a tight spiral staircase going down into the depths of the castle. It was pitch black down there; they had passed no windows on the way up, and from the echoes, Ed guessed that this stairwell went all the way down in total darkness.

  The pit itself was rimmed in stone, a foot-high circular wall som
e four yards in diameter. Most of the stones were the same black rock they'd seen everywhere, and these were carved with the rows of stick figures Ed was by now expecting to see. Only one stone was different, it being almost white, a polished, squared off piece of what looked to Ed like quartz. There were no carvings on the stone, but its top had been smoothed, as if having been rubbed down over time by use.

  Danny leaned over the dark pit. He slipped a bullet from his belt and let it drop. They heard it clatter and clang, ringing like a bell on the way down. It kept going for a long time before the sound faded.

  "There's no way in hell you're getting me down there," Danny said to Ed. "Just in case you were thinking about it."

  "Why would they build it like this? It's a strange kind of castle altogether," Stefan said.

  "I don't think it's a castle at all," Ed said. "If I were to guess, I'd say it is some kind of temple; a place of ritual in any case."

  "What manner of pagan thing might they have been worshipping in here?" Danny said.

  "I don't know," Ed said. "But the answer is in these bally stick figures, I know it is."

  "That's all very well," Danny said, "but it gets us no closer to home. Let us rest here for a spell. Then we have decisions to make, but first, food and a smoke I think."

  They took Danny's suggestion, used the old wood and ropes as kindling, and got a fire going there on the top level where they cooked the last of the rabbit, finished off one of their two waterskins and Danny shared the last of his whisky. Rations were getting perilously low and they all knew it, yet none spoke of it as they stood at the balcony wall, looking out over the sea and smoking while the rabbit cooked on a spit in the chamber.