Devil's Sea a-3

by Robert Doherty

  “Look,” Kaia pointed.

  A boulder was split in two where the ground continued to drop. The landscape was warped, as if a giant’s fist had pounded the ground. The few trees that grew were canted outward, as if from a high wind coming out of the center of wherever they were headed.

  They continued in silence, each concentrating on holding at bay the pain and darkness that beat upon their minds like an unceasing storm. Even the sound of the water running to their right was muted. Glancing over his shoulder, Falco could no longer see the top of the rise. His hands wrapped tighter around the Naga staff.

  * * *

  The patrol Cassius had sent riding the perimeter of the black wall returned from the opposite direction with the report that the darkness was shaped like a triangle, each side the same length.

  Another patrol arrived from the camp, reporting that a scout had come from the south. The barbarian horde was on the move, less than a day’s march away. Cassius looked up at the sun, noting how far it had already risen in the sky. He turned to Liberalius, who had recovered somewhat from the gate’s effect but still appeared to be ill.

  “Bring the rest of the legion here. Then I want an embankment built at the edge of the swamp. If they attack us, I want their formation broken by the swamp. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, General.” Liberalius’s skin was pale, and he seemed ill, but Cassius had neither the time nor patience to be concerned about the tribune’s health right now.

  Hands clasped behind his back, Cassius turned back toward the gate to wait.

  * * *

  Kaia halted so suddenly that Falco almost bumped into her. Through the haze, they could make out a triangle of black floating a foot above the ground twenty feet ahead. Each side was about ten feet long, and it was eight feet from top to bottom.

  “That is it,” Kaia said.

  Falco said nothing. When Kaia made to move forward, he reached out with one arm and blocked her way. When she turned to him with a question on her lips, he indicated for her to be quiet. The hair on the back of his neck was on end, his nerves tingling. He crouched, the Naga staff in the ready position, his eyes darting back and forth, searching for the cause of his unease.

  A white figure flashed out of the black triangle. It spotted them as Falco sprang. The Valkyrie was raising its clawed hands when he shoved the tip of the spear into its chest. The blade cut through the white, going in half a foot.

  The Valkyrie screamed, the sound shattering the eerie silence. Black gas rushed out of the hole as Falco pulled the staff back. The Valkyrie collapsed at their feet. They barely had time to register this when a second one came out of the black triangle. This one was more prepared, parrying Falco’s thrust with its right-hand claw, then thrusting with the left.

  Falco’s instincts, honed in hundreds of fights to the death, were in top form as he ducked under the strike. He rolled, slashing down with the edge of the Naga staff, the blade cutting through the left arm, severing it from the body. Black gas issued forth, and another scream pierced their ears.

  With its remaining hand, it reached down and grasped the body of its immobile comrade, lifting it into the air. It retreated as Falco struck again. The Valkyrie shoved the body between them, allowing it to take the blow. Falco growled, striking once more, piercing the first Valkyrie, but this time there was no black gas. The two disappeared into the portal. Falco took two steps back from the black triangle, Naga staff at the ready. Kaia was to his right rear, her dagger held ready.

  “They’ll be back,” Falco said.

  “No,” Kaia said, and at first Falco thought, she was disagreeing with him. But her eyes were on the black triangle. She stepped forward. “We must go in. We must go to them. We cannot wait.”

  “Agreed,” Falco said. But he paused. “Do you feel it?”

  “It gives off death,” Kaia said, meaning the portal.

  “Yes.”

  “You will not return,” Kaia said.

  “I know.” Falco shrugged. “I do not matter.”

  ‘This is your fate.”

  A half smile creased Falco’s hard face. “A brilliant prophecy.” He walked forward toward the dark triangle and stepped into it.

  * * *

  Liberalius had brought the legion forward in good order but then collapsed upon completing the task. Cassius stood over the young tribune as the legion surgeon examined him for several minutes. There were now red lesions on the man’s face and he was vomiting.

  “What is wrong?” Cassius asked when the surgeon stood and took him out of earshot.

  “I have never seen anything like it,” the surgeon said. “It is as if he is being destroyed from both the inside and out at the same time, but by what, I have no idea.”

  Cassius looked at the black wall and realized he was trapped between it and the oncoming barbarians.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  THE PRESENT

  Dane held up his hand, halting the other two. When he had served in Vietnam, his teammates had valued his ability to sense an ambush before they walked into the kill zone. The rolling terrain and haze combined to limit visibility considerably. Dane had once gone to Little Big Horn and walked the battlefield where Custer met his demise. He’d understood what had happened to the 7th Cavalry after seeing the land; hundreds of hostiles could have hidden in the folds of the Montana land and not been seen until the troopers literally stumbled upon them. He felt the same about this strange nether region as he stood still, trying to focus on whatever it was that had alerted him.

  Dane pointed to the right, where the black terrain dropped off. Shashenka had the butt of the AK-74 tucked tightly into this shoulder, muzzle aimed in that direction. Dane held up his right hand, fist clenched, the military signal to stop. Shashenka paused, then Ahana after a moment’s confusion. Dane walked forward.

  Just before he reached the fold, he stopped and held his empty hands up as half a dozen men jumped up from their hiding place, as if appearing out of the ground itself. They held swords and wore black lacquered armor and ornate helmets. Their eyes were slanted, and they spread out, encircling Dane.

  “Back off!” Shashenka yelled, but they ignored him.

  “Don’t shoot,” Dane said to Shashenka. He picked up no threat from the men. One of them rattled off something to Dane in what he assumed was Japanese.

  “We mean no harm,” Dane said.

  One of the men stepped closer. He looked up and down, as if assessing Dane, then he turned to Dane’s companions. His eyes lit up when he saw Ahana. He walked up to her.

  “Who are they?” Dane asked.

  “Samurai,” Ahana said briefly. Then she spoke with the man in her native tongue. “They want us to go with them,” she translated.

  “What are they doing here?” Shashenka demanded, his weapon still at the ready.

  Three of the samurai circled behind, adding emphasis to the request to accompany them.

  “His dialect is strange,” Ahana said. “Very old. From the armor and weapons, I’d say these men are from the thirteenth century.”

  “That can’t—” Shashenka began, but fell silent as he realized the foolishness of what he had been about to say.

  “They say it is dangerous for us to stay here,” Ahana said.

  “Where is here?” Shashenka asked.

  “No time for that,” Ahana said. “They say they will take us to someone who can answer our questions.”

  “Let’s go with them,” Dane urged, feeling exposed and understanding their desire to get out of this area.

  The leader of the samurai hurried off, going down into the fold in the ground where he had been hidden. Dane followed, Shashenka and Ahana right behind him, the rest of the samurai flanking them.

  Dane noted that the samurai kept to low ground, keeping ridges of the black material on either side as much as possible and traveling in the draws between the ridges. It was the way soldiers in hostile territory moved.

  After about five minutes, Dane noticed a c
hange in the land. The black gave way to patches of brown soil in places, each small pocket carved out of the side of the gully. Plants struggle to grow in these spots. As they passed between the junction of two gullies, a thin trickle of water cut a path through the very bottom, in the direction they were heading.

  He glanced over his shoulder at Ahana and Shashenka. They were following quietly, absorbing all they saw. When Dane returned his gaze forward, he momentarily stopped when he saw the wall directly ahead in the haze, stretching up and to either side as far as visibility would allow. Dane hurried to follow the samurai. They turned the corner of the gully, and a wall was two hundred meters in front of them, disappearing upward into the haze. Etched into the black wall were shallow caves, and in those were people. Dozens and dozens of people.

  Before Dane could take in the variety of men and women who were before him, a woman came striding forward. She was tall, with curly brown hair and striking features. Dane felt as if he had met her or at least seen her before. She held up a hand, indicating for the people who were pressing forward to see the newcomers to back off.

  “Do you speak English?” she asked.

  Dane nodded. “Yes.”

  “You’re American?” the woman asked.

  “Yes.” Dane turned as his partners came up. “I’m Eric Dane. This is Ahana, a scientist from Japan, and Colonel Felix Shashenka from the Russian Army.”

  The woman extended her hand. “Pleased to make your acquaintance Mr. Dane. I’m Amelia Earhart.”

  * * *

  Ariana looked at the large monitor that displayed the computer simulation Jordan’s people had developed to show Mount Erebus. It not only mapped out the exterior of the mountain but the crater and as much as they had been able to tell about the interior from their various monitors, sensors, and probes. They were inside one of the buildings that made up McMurdo Station. People were hustling about, grabbing essential material for the evacuation while Ariana, Miles, and Jordan were in the eye of the storm.

  “The main force vector is here,” Jordan tapped the screen with a pencil. “There’s a lava tube that extends down at least four miles and is almost a quarter mile wide. It extends laterally also, underneath the sea below the Ross Ice Cap. According to the data you sent, the muonic activity from the Devil’s Sea gate is also centered in that tube.”

  “How do you know about the tube?” Ariana asked.

  “We’ve got two aces up our sleeves,” Jordan said. He flipped a photo on the desk. “That’s Dante III.” The image was that of a mechanical spider with eight metal legs. In the picture, Jordan was standing next to the robot, giving an idea of its size, about three meters high, two and a half meters wide, and three and a half long. The body was a metal frame with various electronic sensing devices loaded on board. A metal arch made up the majority of the height, with an antenna bolted on top.

  “We use Dante to go down into the crater itself. We’ve made three trips in, the latest just two days ago to update our data. That’s what’s prompted the evacuation. Dante analyzes the high-temperature gases on the crater floor. We also can get video images, which are helpful?”

  “Where’s Dante now?” Ariana asked.

  “On the rim. It requires someone on site to operate it as it’s a tethered device.” He slid another photo onto the desktop. “This is our other ace and the one that found the main tube.”

  It looked like a remotely operated submersible to Ariana, something she had used before.

  “That’s called TROV — telepresence remotely operated vehicle. It was designed by NASA, and they let us use it to test it out. We sent it under the ice cap at the base of the volcano. It located a vent line off the tube, and we fired a probe in that relayed data back to us.”

  “Is there any way to stop Erebus from erupting?” Arian asked. She had her own ideas that she’d been contemplating and researching on the flight down, but she wanted to get feedback from the on-site expert first.

  “Stop a volcano from erupting?” Jordan shook his head. “No one’s really attempted that. Everything has always been in reaction after the volcano erupted and mostly to stop the lava flow. There are three major methods for that. One is detonating explosives to divert the flow, another is constructing barriers to also divert the flow, and lastly there has been some success using water to cool the lava at the leading edge, in effect using cooled lava as a barrier against the flow behind it.”

  “Stopping the lava is the least of our concerns,” Ariana said. “We have to stop the detonation. It’s the initiator to everything the Shadow is doing on the Pacific Rim.”

  “When I had Dante in the crater, it confirmed what we had long suspected,” Jordan said, “The lava lake in the crater has been acting like a large plug since the last eruption, containing the power. If that plug blows, it’ll take out most of the top of the mountain, which in turn will devastate everything within a five-hundred-mile radius. Most importantly, and dangerous, is the effect on the Ross Ice Shelf. My calculations estimate that eighty percent of the shelf will either be melted or broken off.

  “Given the data you sent me, Erebus will start a chain reaction up the Ring of Fire,” Jordan continued. “It’ll make the destruction of Iceland seem minor by the time the Ring has been activated.”

  “You haven’t answered my question,” Ariana said. “I know it has never been done, but do you have any theories on how we can stop it from erupting?”

  Jordan sighed. He tapped the screen. “If we can stop or divert this main channel from being forced up against the lava lake plug in the crater, we might be able to minimize the effect.” He shrugged. “But I don’t see how we can do that.”

  “I have an idea,” Ariana said.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  THE PAST

  79 A.D.

  Falco had the Naga staff at the ready as he went through the portal. He stumbled slightly, then regained his balance. Kaia was right behind him, and they both paused to take stock of the new environment they were in. The ground was black and grainy. The air was still hazy, making visibility poor. To Falco’s relief, there was no sign of the Valkyries, just rolling black hills all around as far as he could see. Behind them, the black triangle hovered in the air.

  “Where did they go?” Kaia asked.

  Falco shrugged. “I don’t know. Is this where they live?” he asked in turn.

  Kaia was slowly turning, looking about, but Falco knew she was doing more than simply looking; she was projecting her mind outward. Throughout the journey, he had picked up much from her, and he knew her powers were far greater than his, especially with regard to working over a distance.

  “There are others here,” Kaia finally said. “Other people.”

  “Where?” Falco could sense none of that. All he knew was that this place was dangerous.

  Kaia pointed. “That way.”

  Falco didn’t like the idea of leaving the portal. There was no way to tell direction in the strange place, and once it was out of their sight, it might be hard to find again.

  “They are in great pain,” Kaia said. “We must help them.”

  “That is not what we are here for,” Falco argued.

  Kaia said nothing more but began heading in the direction she had pointed. Reluctantly, Falco followed.

  * * *

  Cassius had fought from Britain to across the Rhine in Germany to Palestine. As a young tribune, he had even been on a campaign in Africa near Carthage. He had studied Julius Caesar’s accounts of the Gallic Wars and then served under many fine generals before receiving his own baton of command.

  One of the many lessons he had learned was that the defense was the position taken by the weak, and it could rarely lead to victory. So even as the men of the XXV Legion dug into the ground with their spades at the edge of the swamp, their backs to the black wall, he gathered together every mounted man in the unit, all two hundred six.

  Falco and the priestess had been gone the entire day and night was falling. Cassius was
worried at the length of time that had passed, but there was nothing he could do about that except make sure he held this side of the gate. The death of Liberalius had cast a darkness over the entire camp, increasing the effect the dark wall already had.

  As the sunset, he led the cavalry through the swamp. It was dark by the time they reached the other side and continued to the south.

  The barbarian camp was easy to find, despite the lack of light. Hundreds of campfires gave off a glow that touched the sky and was visible from miles away. Cassius was at the head of the column, and he rode slowly, aware that it was possible for the force in front of him to have put out a skirmish line, although he doubted it. They were in their own land, and they outnumbered his forces at least four to one, judging by the number of fires he could make out as he got closer. Overconfidence. It was what had destroyed Varus in Germany when his three legions had been overwhelmed and the eagle standards taken by the barbarians. Cassius had learned as much, if not more, from studying the defeats of Rome’s generals as their victories.

  When he was less than a quarter mile from the barbarian camp, Cassius halted the troop. He had already given his instructions, so the men spread out on line, lances at the ready. They moved forward at a walk, then a trot as they closed to within two hundred meters. At a hundred meters, Cassius spurred his horse to a full gallop, and the men with him did likewise.

  There were no breastworks built up to protect the camp, no sentries on duty. Cassius and his men hit like a tidal wave, spitting barbarians on their spears, then drawing their swords and cutting down men as they jumped up from their sleep.

  A clock was ticking inside Cassius’s brain, and when he had gone forward about a hundred meters into the camp, he yelled the order to fall back. The cavalry wheeled and galloped back the way they had come, fading into the darkness, only the bloody bodies’ evidence of their assault.