“Sulfuric acid,” Newcombe warned. “I would strongly recommend that you avoid touching it.”
“This is Acheron,” Fiona said, almost reverently. “One of the rivers that carried the dead into the Underworld.”
“I don’t know about that. My guess would be seepage from the lake that acidifies as it passes through the surrounding rock matrix. These terraces probably correspond to periods of drought, when the lake level fell and the flow decreased.”
Ordinarily, Dodge would have drawn some comfort from the scientist’s rational assessment of the phenomenon, but somehow Fiona’s explanation felt closer to the mark.
“Acheron,” Fiona repeated. “We’re almost there.”
Acheron or not, Fiona’s prediction was again right on the money. They had been following the meandering course of the acidic river for about two hundred yards when Newcombe called everyone to a halt and shone his light into the deadly waters. The beam reflected off what looked like silver sand, just below the surface.
“Those are particles of metal. The acid dissolved the surrounding rock, leaving only the metal particles behind.”
“Is it adamantine?” Barron inquired.
“I can’t say with certainty, but it’s certainly some sort of rare earth metal that doesn’t react with the acid.” Newcombe backed away. “If it is naturally refined adamantine, then it’s no good to us. What we need will be in the rock all around us.”
Dodge flashed his light on the cavern walls, trying to pick out some glint of metal flakes in the rock, but it all looked the same to him.
“The ore will probably be indistinguishable from ordinary rock,” the scientist explained. “But it may have striations that look like quartz or some other material.”
“Polybius described gates made of the stuff,” Fiona insisted. “We need to keep going.”
She pressed on and there seemed little alternative but to follow. As they went forward however, Dodge saw evidence of what Newcombe had described. The cavern walls were shot through with streaks of white. And then, with the same abruptness that had heralded the discovery of the river, the tunnel ended. A slab of gray rock, laced with porous white crystals and nodules of glinting silver, stretched across the entire width of the passage. Part of the rock wall had been eroded by the river, but veins of metal had formed into stalactites that hung down into the acid stream, looking like the bars of some ancient portcullis.
Fiona grinned triumphantly. “As promised, gentlemen, I give you the gates of Tartarus.”
Dodge didn’t share her excitement. He was familiar enough with the substance Barron called “adamantine” to recognize it for what it was: the same metal that had been used by the builders of the Outpost in Antarctica to harness otherworldly energies. His contribution to the effort had been incidental; Fiona Dunn would have found both the library at Alamut and the gates of Tartarus on her own anyway, but Dodge could not escape the feeling that he had just handed Barron the prize.
Newcombe took out a small rock hammer and chipped away a pea-sized grain of metal. He allowed the bead to roll on his palm. “It’s very lightweight.”
Barron crowded forward, exhibiting uncharacteristic eagerness. “But is it adamantine?”
“It’s impossible to say with absolute certainty. The original samples I worked with had been refined. I was never able to find a melting point, or identify any chemicals that would react with it. But I was able to measure the density of the refined metal.” As he spoke, Newcombe took several pieces of laboratory equipment from his pack. He weighed the metal nugget, then transferred it to a graduated cylinder that was about half-filled with water. After taking precise measurements of the amount of water the specimen had displaced, he did some quick calculations, and nodded. “It’s the same. In fact, I’d say this sample is almost pure.”
Excitement danced in Barron’s eyes. “And the ore? Can you refine it chemically?”
“I’ll have to test it, but judging by the effects of the acid in the river, I think I can narrow the field quite a bit.”
“We can run those tests back on Majestic.” The industrialist’s voice took on a commanding tone. “Use the wave projector to pulverize the ore.”
Dodge saw a flicker of doubt in Newcombe’s eyes, but he did not give voice to his apprehensions. Instead, he meticulously packed up his lab equipment and then went to work assembling the resonance device.
Fiona seemed oblivious to their discussion. While Newcombe had been examining the sample, she had busied herself studying the wall itself. “How does it open?” She turned and caught Dodge’s eye. “The legends call them ‘gates.’ Gates open, they let you in. How does this open?”
Dodge wasn’t convinced that the legends could be taken at face value, but he had seen the metal relics from the Outpost become as fluid as quicksilver. It wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility that those relics might have once been used to command the element in its raw form. That wasn’t something he wanted to explain to the archaeologist, however.
“It’s ready,” Newcombe said. He positioned the wave device a few feet away from the wall. “Stand back.”
As soon as Fiona was clear, he activated the switch.
Dodge had seen the device used twice previously, once to deadly effect, and thought he knew what to expect, but this time it was different. He immediately felt the silent vibrations in every nerve of his body, as if he was holding onto a gigantic tuning fork. As the seconds ticked by, the sensation intensified into debilitating agony. From one moment to the next, the entire party of explorers dropped to their knees, in the grip of an overwhelming sensory experience.
An involuntary wail escaped from between Dodge’s clenched teeth. He heard similar cries and groans from his companions, and still the pain grew. Dodge knew that he was only seconds away from paralysis, and with a supreme effort of will, reached past Newcombe and swiped his hand at the wave projector’s power switch.
In that instant, a chorus of shrieks erupted from the dark confines of the cavern.
The vibration ceased as soon as Dodge hit the switch, but the shrieking continued. Dodge felt a tingle of fear shoot through his body that had nothing to do with the wave device, and as soon as he could move again, he directed his flashlight beam into the shadowy depths of the passage behind them.
Something moved there, flashing out of view as if the touch of the light was anathema.
Despite his legendary fortitude, Hurricane had been as helpless as the rest of the group during the strange episode, but he recovered quickly when he glimpsed the figure moving in the tunnel. He whipped his pistols out and aimed them down the tunnel, following the sweep of Dodge’s light, searching for a target.
The shrieking subsided slowly, and Dodge knew that it had not been a single voice crying out, but rather a chorus of voices, issuing from all around them.
“I think we woke someone up,” Hurricane said.
Barron turned to his crewman, whom Dodge now saw was also armed with a pistol. “Go see what that was.”
The man blanched visibly at the command, but nodded tersely and set out, flashlight in one hand, gun in the other.
“I’ll go with you,” Hurricane said.
“What the hell just happened to us?” Vaughn asked.
Newcombe adjusted his glasses. “Conductivity. Stupid of me really. Metal is an excellent conductor of energy. We’re surrounded by the ore, so the energy from the waves was all around us.”
“You could have killed us all,” the general grumbled.
The accusation was not altogether warranted, but if Newcombe had an answer, it was forgotten as Barron pushed forward to examine the results of the attempt. “Never mind that. It worked.”