“It must have seemed awesome to the first people who reached this chamber,” Jack said. “My guess is the other side of the core also has basalt intrusions radiating outwards where the magma followed fissures to the surface. If the pattern’s symmetrical it’s easy to see how it acquired magical qualities. It was the image of their sacred eagle god.”
Katya was transfixed by the spectacular cascades of rock around them. The causeway was like the final bridge to a subterranean stronghold, an ultimate test of nerve that would leave anyone brave enough to venture across it exposed above a moat of fire.
She could just make out entrances in the wall at the end of the two branching ramps. Directly ahead she could see the distant shimmer of a rock wall a hundred metres away, its dimensions concealed in the darkness. She shuddered as she remembered the grim epithet over the entrance into the chamber.
Costas began to swim determinedly along the causeway. “Jack’s only got a few minutes of air left. Time to find the surface.”
Jack and Katya swam on either side of Costas above the ruts which continued from the passageway. Just after they passed the junction with the first causeway to the left, another feature came into view, a depression midway along the central spine that had been invisible from the entrance.
As they neared the feature a remarkable scene unfolded before their eyes. The indentation extended the full five-metre width of the causeway and an equivalent distance across. It was about two metres deep and reached by steps on either side. Overlooking the canyon to the right was a bull’s horn sculpture with the characteristic vertical sides and sweeping interior curve. An identical carving rose up just to the left of centre, and perched between was a massive slab. The horns had been carved out of the rock, their tips almost reaching the level of the causeway, whereas the slab was a lustrous white marble similar to the stone they had seen worked into fantastic animal shapes beside the processional way outside.
As they sank down for a closer look they could see the slab was tilted out a metre over the void.
“Of course,” Jack cried. “That inscription. Not ‘the way of death’ but ‘the way of the dead.’ Ever since we first saw Atlantis I’ve been wondering where the cemeteries were. Now we know. That last room was a mortuary, a preparation chamber. And this is where they disposed of their dead.”
Even Costas was momentarily diverted from the urgency of their escape and swam over to peer down the chasm. He flicked on his high-intensity halogen beam for a few seconds, aware that only a brief burst could deplete his battery reserve.
“They chose the right spot,” he concurred. “The lava down there’s jagged, the quick-drying type, and fills the ravine as a solidified torrent. Seven thousand years ago that could well have been an active duct. Molten lava simmers away at 1,100 degrees Celsius, hot enough to melt a car, so you’ve got a ready-made crematorium.”
Katya was inspecting the steps leading down to the platform.
“This must be where they brought the bodies before placing them on the slab for their final journey,” she surmised. “The ruts on the ramp are two metres apart, just right for a bier. They must have been worn down by the feet of pallbearers over countless thousands of funerary processions.”
Jack was staring into the depths of the chasm, all his imagination marshalled to conjure up an image of the ritual last performed at this spot millennia before. He had excavated many ancient burial sites, the dead often telling a better story than the detritus of the living, and he had expected their greatest discovery to be a rich necropolis. Now he knew the only mortal remains of the people of Atlantis were encoded within themselves, in the genes of those intrepid seafarers who had escaped the flood and spread the seeds of civilization.
“So this is the underworld of the ancients,” he said, his breath short. “And the Styx was no placid backwater but a burning river of fire.”
“Old Charon the boatman would have taken a raincheck on this one,” Costas said. “It looks like the gates of hell to me. Let’s get out of here before we wake up the god of this place and he reactivates the furnace.”
As they finned up the final section of the ramp, Jack was gasping. His ragged breathing was audible and Katya turned towards him in alarm. Costas had stayed close by and now pulled his friend to a halt.
“Time to buddy-breathe,” he said.
After fumbling briefly behind his backpack he produced a vulcanized hose which he pushed into an outlet on Jack’s manifold. He opened the valve a few turns and there was a hiss as the two systems equalized.
“Thanks.” Jack’s breathing was suddenly easier.
“We’ve got a problem,” Costas announced.
Jack had been concentrating on his breathing but now looked up at the rock face looming in front of them.
“A lava plug,” he said bleakly.
About five metres ahead the ledge terminated at the north-eastern extremity of the chamber. They could just make out an entrance, as wide as the walkway and capped by a lintel. But these features were obscured by a giant clot of solidified lava, an ugly eruption that had oozed into the chasm and left only a small aperture near the top.
Costas turned to Jack. “We’re only eight metres below sea level, within the ten-metre safety margin for oxygen toxicity, so while we’re working this one out we may as well cleanse our systems.”
He switched his and Katya’s computers to manual override and cranked open the oxygen valves on their manifolds. Then he and Jack swam in tandem to the hole and peered into the space beyond.
“The lava tube must have broken through the basalt into the passageway some time after the flood,” Costas said. “The aperture is the result of a gas blowout. If we’re lucky there’ll be a cavity all the way through.”
Jack pulled himself into the jagged slit so his head and shoulders disappeared. Beyond the constriction he could see the cavity opening out like a ventilation duct, the walls mottled with igneous contusions where the gas had exploded through the cooling lava with the force of a jet afterburner.
“There’s no way we’ll get through with our equipment on,” he said. “After the blowout the lava must have expanded as it solidified, narrowing the first few metres to a tunnel barely wide enough for Katya, let alone me or you.”
They knew what they had to do. Jack began to unbuckle his cylinder harness.
“It makes sense for me to go first. You and Katya both still have your reserve. And I’m the one who can free-dive to forty metres.”
“Not with a bullet hole in your side.”
“Let me blast some oxygen into the tunnel,” Jack replied. “I can see undulations in the ceiling that might trap pockets of gas and provide a safety stop.”
Costas paused, instinctively reluctant to expel any of their dwindling supply, but he saw the sense in Jack’s words. He detached a regulator second stage from his backpack and passed it over. With his long reach Jack extended the hose as far as he could into the fissure and pressed the purge valve. There was a thunderous roar as the oxygen erupted into the space and cascaded like white water along the upper surface of the rock.
Costas watched intently as the readout on his contents gauge dropped below fifty bar and the reserve warning began to flash.
“Enough!” he said.
Jack released the purge and placed the regulator just inside the lip of the aperture. As he eased off his backpack and wedged it in a fold in the lava, Costas detached the tape from his back and tied it to Jack’s upper arm.
“Standard rope signals,” he instructed. “One pull means OK. Two pulls means you want another blast of oxygen. Continuous pulls means you’re through and it’s safe for us to follow.”
Jack nodded as he checked to make sure the reel was clear. He would be cut off from the intercom as he would need to retract his visor to access air pockets in the tunnel. He released the safety lock on his helmet and looked across at Costas, who had just confirmed on his computer that they had satisfied decompression requirements.