The entrance was well away from the populated parts of Ausonia, on one of the areas abandoned as the water ran out and populations shrank. The alley that they had followed was a dead end, but someone had pulled aside the rusting grate that covered an accessway and Drake stood beside it, enjoying the warm, moist air that rose from it even if the stench was, to put it mildly, unappealing. "I can't think of anything," he said, looking around. "Has anyone been down there yet?"
"Only the murderer," the guard told him.
"Oh the joy," quipped Drake. "Right, follow me down would you," he ordered Smith. "Might need a light in a hurry. Then Father Jacobi, Mister Johnson and you Jones. Feel free to hurry if you hear anyone trying to do me an injury."
Without any more ado, the Englishman scrambled onto the ladder leading down the access route. God only knew how old it was but other than being a trifle wider between the rungs than he would have preferred, the ladder was perfectly serviceable and he descended quickly. He was much less than his own height down the shaft when Smith joined him on the ladder, blocking out the sunlight.
Finally Drake realised that there was water only a short distance below his feet. "I'm almost at the bottom," he called and slowed slightly, probing for obstacles before each step. Finding none, he was shortly standing in fast moving water that was no more than knee depth and moved aside, rummaging in his waistcoat pocket for one of the safety matches that he had set aside, striking it against the stone wall of the sewer as Smith descended the last few steps.
The flaring light of the match barely illuminated a cylinderical passage, knee deep in water and sewage. Fortunately there was little enough waste from the sparsely inhabited district above them, but the smell of generations of effluent was enough to bring a grimace to the sailor's face as he held the lantern open for Drake to light the candle within.
"Which way do you think we should go, sir?" Smith asked as Jacobi arrived, his own lantern loose in his hand.
Drake gestured in the direction he believed that the bulk of the city lay in. "I can't see any trace of the scoundrel who passed this way," he said. "But if he's laired down this way then it's likely enough that he's picked a central point - he's surely ranged across enough of the Ausonia." He waited until Johnson and Jones had joined them before drawing his borrowed sword. "Right then gentlemen. Let's be on with it."
"We could be at this forever," Jacobi protested as he followed Drake away from the ladder. "These sewers are a maze, we could be lost down here forever."
"Stuff and nonsense," declared Johnson. "Look man, I brought chalk to mark our path. Mark arrows to point us back to this entrance and if we can't do more for now then we can at least find our way out alright."
"Good thinking," agreed Drake.
They had walked for only a few minutes, ignoring several smaller turn offs save for marking them with arrows, when Jones, having moved up to take the lead, paused. "Someone ahead," he muttered. "I can hear them."
They paused and Drake moved forwards, leaving the three lanterns to backlight the two of them. "How far ahead," he breathed so quietly that even Jones would be hard pressed to see him.
The question was answered abruptly as a filthy figure slouched into the tunnel a score or more paces ahead of them only to freeze for a moment in the lantern light. Drake's eyes locked onto those of the new arrival and then, with a cry of fear, the figure fled into the darkness.
"It must be him!" Johnson shouted and he pushed forwards, trying to give chase. His lantern swung somewhat wildly as he ran, sending shadows leaping crazily around the five of them. Drake also ran as best he could in the water. They halted at the end of the straight stretch of sewers, looking around. Another large sewer led away in one direction but others, smaller, radiated in all directions.
"Which direction did he go in?" Drake wondered.
"Left, I think," Johnson said and held the lantern to peer down a side passage. "I - ah!" With faster reflexes than the younger man would have credited him with, the merchant brought up his revolver and fired a round. Drake jerked around to see slimy back disappear under the water, which pinked as if by blood a moment later. The retort of the gun set their ears to ringing and Drake had to leap aside as a block in one of the walls cracked suddenly, dust raining down as the sewer settled the tiniest fraction lower.
"Don't do that!" he hissed. "You'll bring the whole place down on us."
"Sorry lad," Johnson apologised, lowering the weapon. "There was something down in the water."
"I saw it," Drake agreed. "Some sort of slug perhaps? Not who we're chasing."
"No, that was a man alright," Johnson said. "I couldn't get a good look at him but he had a suspicious look to him, the devil! I do business with poor Kiithauk Gneesh and the brute murdered his wife in her own bed!"
"He looked like Mister Darwin's missing step," Drake muttered. "Hunched over, hands practically in the water. Not someone I'd expect to see on a London street, never mind in a Martian city. No wonder he attacks at night."
"What happened, sir?" Jones asked as he and Smith splashed up to the pair. "We heard a gunshot."
Johnson filled him in tersely while Drake scanned the walls, looking for any trace of their prey. "Where's Jacobi?" he asked when Johnson was done.
Smith grimaced and gestured with his thumb back in the direction of the ladder. "Ran the minute we heard the shot," he explained.
Drake rolled his eyes. "Wretched fellow. Nothing we can do about it now though." He glanced around. "Well, let's stick to the larger passages for now. There can't be that many of this size under a city as small as Ausonia."
*
Contrary to their exciting first few minutes in the sewers, the next hour went quietly as they walked back and forth along the larger sewer passages. "It's something like a tree," Jones noted, using some of Johnson's chalk to mark out a crude map on one of the walls. "The main trunk is the largest pipe, running down to the canal. And then there are large pipes going off in all directions and littler ones linking them all together."
"Well we've just about covered all of the north and the west of the system," Drake observed. "The major passages anyway. If he's hiding out in there then it's one of the side passages." He tapped the part of the map that represented where they were at the moment, at the northernmost part of the 'trunk' sewer. "There are a couple more major pipes in the east, no, three of them. We'll check them both and if we don't find him by then I suppose we'll have to turn back and try to find some way of sweeping the -"
"There!" Johnson shouted suddenly and raised his revolver, aiming it down the trunk. "You there! Stop at once." He pulled the trigger and a flash of light stabbed down the sewer.
"You blasted fool!" Drake snapped as the impetuous merchant splashed off.
Johnson shook off the Englishman's restraining hand. "I saw him again. Going into one of those passages we haven't checked yet."
"Watch out for the -" Drake broke off as Johnson heedlessly plunged into a deeper patch of the sewer, vanishing beneath the water for a moment, along with his lantern. "Why do I even bother?" he sighed as Johnson bobbed to the surface.
"We've only one lantern left, sir," Smith pointed out, indicating his own. "Might be best to go back now and fetch another before we go further."
"Tell that to him," Drake sighed, indicating Johnson who was still waving for them to follow him.
He wasn't actually getting any further away though.
And then his head vanished beneath the sewage again.
"Bloody hell!" Drake shouted and ran towards the merchant. Jones was a half-step ahead of him, he noted. "Keep the lantern back," he shouted to Smith and then plunged into the deeper water after Jones.
Johnson reared up again, wrestling with something that the distant light of the lantern gave nightmarish appearance to - somewhat like a slug or snail the size of a large dog. "Help me!" he called and flinched as Jones yanked his knife free and buried it in the beast.
Drake slashed his sword through the water and felt it connect to something. Drawing back he stabbed and felt the sword lodge in something solid. A second blow and it stopped moving.He kicked past it and closed methodically towards Jones and Johnson. There was blood in the water around them and Jones pulled back suddenly with another of the beasts apparently wrapped around his arm. Drake's cut would have done little to credit him to a fencing master anywhere on earth, but it slashed a deep cut through what he took to be the head of the boneless creature and it fell away from Jones.
A third time Johnson fell out of sight and Drake yanked Jones back, wary of stabbing into the merchant himself if he struck blindly. "Ready..." he ordered, watching the water heave. "Ready..."
There was an explosion under the water and Jones cried out in pain. Drake had no time to look aside as Johnson surfaced again, face contorted in agony. With grave deliberation, Drake thrust. Thrust. Thrust again... and then all was calm and he caught hold of the older man by the collar, hauling him back towards the shallows.
"Oh god," the American whimpered. "Oh Made-line..."
Drake stopped pulling. The man was too light, too limp in his grip.
And then it became clear, for it was only half of Johnson that he was pulling on. The rest of him, the lower half, was now only connected to that which Drake held by an unravelling chord of intestine and remained in the water.
"He's dead, sir," Jones said, clutching at his arm.
"I know that!" Drake snapped. "What happened to you?"
Jones winced. "Shot." He nodded to where the revolver was still clutched in Johnson's hand. "Must have got a last shot off."
"Under water!? By god, that's a good gun," Drake snorted. "Sorry to snap at you there. How bad is it?"
"What's happened?" Smith called, standing gingerly clear of the deeper waters.
"Johnson's dead," Drake said solemnly. "Poor devil. What a rotten place to die."
"We should turn back," Smith muttered disconsolately.
Drake shooks his head. "He said he thought he saw our man up ahead. I'm going after him."
"There's only one lantern... sir," the sailor pointed out in a mutinous tone.
"Then you'd have a long, dark walk back to the ladder, should you turn back now," Drake pointed out.
Smith hesitated.
"It's nothing serious, sir," Jones said, looking up from where he'd been examining his arm. "I can go on."
Drake nodded and sheathed his sword. "You'll need a bandage on that then."
D for Drakensis
You're only young once, but immaturity is forever.
"Only the murderer," the guard told him.
"Oh the joy," quipped Drake. "Right, follow me down would you," he ordered Smith. "Might need a light in a hurry. Then Father Jacobi, Mister Johnson and you Jones. Feel free to hurry if you hear anyone trying to do me an injury."
Without any more ado, the Englishman scrambled onto the ladder leading down the access route. God only knew how old it was but other than being a trifle wider between the rungs than he would have preferred, the ladder was perfectly serviceable and he descended quickly. He was much less than his own height down the shaft when Smith joined him on the ladder, blocking out the sunlight.
Finally Drake realised that there was water only a short distance below his feet. "I'm almost at the bottom," he called and slowed slightly, probing for obstacles before each step. Finding none, he was shortly standing in fast moving water that was no more than knee depth and moved aside, rummaging in his waistcoat pocket for one of the safety matches that he had set aside, striking it against the stone wall of the sewer as Smith descended the last few steps.
The flaring light of the match barely illuminated a cylinderical passage, knee deep in water and sewage. Fortunately there was little enough waste from the sparsely inhabited district above them, but the smell of generations of effluent was enough to bring a grimace to the sailor's face as he held the lantern open for Drake to light the candle within.
"Which way do you think we should go, sir?" Smith asked as Jacobi arrived, his own lantern loose in his hand.
Drake gestured in the direction he believed that the bulk of the city lay in. "I can't see any trace of the scoundrel who passed this way," he said. "But if he's laired down this way then it's likely enough that he's picked a central point - he's surely ranged across enough of the Ausonia." He waited until Johnson and Jones had joined them before drawing his borrowed sword. "Right then gentlemen. Let's be on with it."
"We could be at this forever," Jacobi protested as he followed Drake away from the ladder. "These sewers are a maze, we could be lost down here forever."
"Stuff and nonsense," declared Johnson. "Look man, I brought chalk to mark our path. Mark arrows to point us back to this entrance and if we can't do more for now then we can at least find our way out alright."
"Good thinking," agreed Drake.
They had walked for only a few minutes, ignoring several smaller turn offs save for marking them with arrows, when Jones, having moved up to take the lead, paused. "Someone ahead," he muttered. "I can hear them."
They paused and Drake moved forwards, leaving the three lanterns to backlight the two of them. "How far ahead," he breathed so quietly that even Jones would be hard pressed to see him.
The question was answered abruptly as a filthy figure slouched into the tunnel a score or more paces ahead of them only to freeze for a moment in the lantern light. Drake's eyes locked onto those of the new arrival and then, with a cry of fear, the figure fled into the darkness.
"It must be him!" Johnson shouted and he pushed forwards, trying to give chase. His lantern swung somewhat wildly as he ran, sending shadows leaping crazily around the five of them. Drake also ran as best he could in the water. They halted at the end of the straight stretch of sewers, looking around. Another large sewer led away in one direction but others, smaller, radiated in all directions.
"Which direction did he go in?" Drake wondered.
"Left, I think," Johnson said and held the lantern to peer down a side passage. "I - ah!" With faster reflexes than the younger man would have credited him with, the merchant brought up his revolver and fired a round. Drake jerked around to see slimy back disappear under the water, which pinked as if by blood a moment later. The retort of the gun set their ears to ringing and Drake had to leap aside as a block in one of the walls cracked suddenly, dust raining down as the sewer settled the tiniest fraction lower.
"Don't do that!" he hissed. "You'll bring the whole place down on us."
"Sorry lad," Johnson apologised, lowering the weapon. "There was something down in the water."
"I saw it," Drake agreed. "Some sort of slug perhaps? Not who we're chasing."
"No, that was a man alright," Johnson said. "I couldn't get a good look at him but he had a suspicious look to him, the devil! I do business with poor Kiithauk Gneesh and the brute murdered his wife in her own bed!"
"He looked like Mister Darwin's missing step," Drake muttered. "Hunched over, hands practically in the water. Not someone I'd expect to see on a London street, never mind in a Martian city. No wonder he attacks at night."
"What happened, sir?" Jones asked as he and Smith splashed up to the pair. "We heard a gunshot."
Johnson filled him in tersely while Drake scanned the walls, looking for any trace of their prey. "Where's Jacobi?" he asked when Johnson was done.
Smith grimaced and gestured with his thumb back in the direction of the ladder. "Ran the minute we heard the shot," he explained.
Drake rolled his eyes. "Wretched fellow. Nothing we can do about it now though." He glanced around. "Well, let's stick to the larger passages for now. There can't be that many of this size under a city as small as Ausonia."
*
Contrary to their exciting first few minutes in the sewers, the next hour went quietly as they walked back and forth along the larger sewer passages. "It's something like a tree," Jones noted, using some of Johnson's chalk to mark out a crude map on one of the walls. "The main trunk is the largest pipe, running down to the canal. And then there are large pipes going off in all directions and littler ones linking them all together."
"Well we've just about covered all of the north and the west of the system," Drake observed. "The major passages anyway. If he's hiding out in there then it's one of the side passages." He tapped the part of the map that represented where they were at the moment, at the northernmost part of the 'trunk' sewer. "There are a couple more major pipes in the east, no, three of them. We'll check them both and if we don't find him by then I suppose we'll have to turn back and try to find some way of sweeping the -"
"There!" Johnson shouted suddenly and raised his revolver, aiming it down the trunk. "You there! Stop at once." He pulled the trigger and a flash of light stabbed down the sewer.
"You blasted fool!" Drake snapped as the impetuous merchant splashed off.
Johnson shook off the Englishman's restraining hand. "I saw him again. Going into one of those passages we haven't checked yet."
"Watch out for the -" Drake broke off as Johnson heedlessly plunged into a deeper patch of the sewer, vanishing beneath the water for a moment, along with his lantern. "Why do I even bother?" he sighed as Johnson bobbed to the surface.
"We've only one lantern left, sir," Smith pointed out, indicating his own. "Might be best to go back now and fetch another before we go further."
"Tell that to him," Drake sighed, indicating Johnson who was still waving for them to follow him.
He wasn't actually getting any further away though.
And then his head vanished beneath the sewage again.
"Bloody hell!" Drake shouted and ran towards the merchant. Jones was a half-step ahead of him, he noted. "Keep the lantern back," he shouted to Smith and then plunged into the deeper water after Jones.
Johnson reared up again, wrestling with something that the distant light of the lantern gave nightmarish appearance to - somewhat like a slug or snail the size of a large dog. "Help me!" he called and flinched as Jones yanked his knife free and buried it in the beast.
Drake slashed his sword through the water and felt it connect to something. Drawing back he stabbed and felt the sword lodge in something solid. A second blow and it stopped moving.He kicked past it and closed methodically towards Jones and Johnson. There was blood in the water around them and Jones pulled back suddenly with another of the beasts apparently wrapped around his arm. Drake's cut would have done little to credit him to a fencing master anywhere on earth, but it slashed a deep cut through what he took to be the head of the boneless creature and it fell away from Jones.
A third time Johnson fell out of sight and Drake yanked Jones back, wary of stabbing into the merchant himself if he struck blindly. "Ready..." he ordered, watching the water heave. "Ready..."
There was an explosion under the water and Jones cried out in pain. Drake had no time to look aside as Johnson surfaced again, face contorted in agony. With grave deliberation, Drake thrust. Thrust. Thrust again... and then all was calm and he caught hold of the older man by the collar, hauling him back towards the shallows.
"Oh god," the American whimpered. "Oh Made-line..."
Drake stopped pulling. The man was too light, too limp in his grip.
And then it became clear, for it was only half of Johnson that he was pulling on. The rest of him, the lower half, was now only connected to that which Drake held by an unravelling chord of intestine and remained in the water.
"He's dead, sir," Jones said, clutching at his arm.
"I know that!" Drake snapped. "What happened to you?"
Jones winced. "Shot." He nodded to where the revolver was still clutched in Johnson's hand. "Must have got a last shot off."
"Under water!? By god, that's a good gun," Drake snorted. "Sorry to snap at you there. How bad is it?"
"What's happened?" Smith called, standing gingerly clear of the deeper waters.
"Johnson's dead," Drake said solemnly. "Poor devil. What a rotten place to die."
"We should turn back," Smith muttered disconsolately.
Drake shooks his head. "He said he thought he saw our man up ahead. I'm going after him."
"There's only one lantern... sir," the sailor pointed out in a mutinous tone.
"Then you'd have a long, dark walk back to the ladder, should you turn back now," Drake pointed out.
Smith hesitated.
"It's nothing serious, sir," Jones said, looking up from where he'd been examining his arm. "I can go on."
Drake nodded and sheathed his sword. "You'll need a bandage on that then."
D for Drakensis
You're only young once, but immaturity is forever.