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This one was so large its dimensions were lost in blackness. They wouldn’t have been surprised to see stars in the distance. Before them, towering higher than a five-story building, loomed a formation that looked like a gluttonous head wearing a peaked hat; only this head appeared to have been sculpted of layer upon layer of filth, from its corpulent bugging eyes to its flared nostrils to its repulsive overlapping chins. And high above, barely visible even by the ever-brightening glow of the Artifact, dangled tree-sized stalactites like ten thousand swords of Damocles ready to spoil the glutton’s feast.

The three of them wound their way among the phallic stalagmites that stood in clusters around the giant head as if they were there in worship. Some of the stone phalluses were seven feet tall, others just forming and startlingly anthropomorphic. Even in the overwhelmingly weird atmosphere, Glory had to stifle her giggles when she inadvertently stepped on some of the smaller ones, breaking them, each time causing Lovecraft or Howard to wince.

The next chamber was less grand, with a flat roof spiked with smaller stalactites that resembled freshly dipped wax candles. Under them, almost surreal, stood pillars with tops that had somehow been sculpted into perfect birdbath shapes. Hundreds of them stretched left and right as if they were pedestals in a stone museum awaiting the treasures to be displayed on their tops. In some places the stalactites extended farther downward, a few so far they grazed the tops of the pedestals like strands of thick rope. Along the far wall, almost lost in the blackness, stretched formations that looked like a forest of trees whose branches had all melded above, but whose trunks were absolutely distinct below. It was a forest the dead color of dried mud.

The next chamber’s pure white floor rippled in delicate patterns like windblown dunes seen from high above. As they took their tentative steps they saw stone eggs of varying sizes—the smallest no larger than marbles, the largest the size of a man’s head—strewn in random configurations. As they stepped carefully to avoid treading on them, the eggs began to change colors—subtly off-white, then creamy, then yellow—and by the time they reached the far side, more than fifty yards across, the large flattened yellow shapes lay all over the white surface like giant egg yolks.

“I swear one of these things is about to hatch,” Glory whispered.

Lovecraft shook his head. “I would rather not witness such an abomination of nature,” he said.

Howard said nothing. He was suddenly hungry for a good breakfast of eggs and sausage, hoping his stomach wouldn’t rumble audibly.

The wall to the next chamber was translucent in the Artifact’s intense light. Inside, the floor remained unchanged, but now the eggs appeared partially submerged, some of them open on top, partially formed, in various stages of completion. In the circular space Lovecraft had the odd feeling that he was in the middle of a giant cauldron of milk that had petrified in the midst of a furious boil, the egg shapes constituting the bubbles. He stepped even more cautiously, not knowing if the surface was a film, like the skim of milk, that they could break with their weight.

The colors changed in the next chamber, and they stood at the lip of a deep pit that stretched downward and coiled to the left. There was no way they could climb down, but along the rim of the pit, only a few feet down, a ledge wound its way to the other side, more than a hundred yards distant, where they could make out a dark aperture. Lovecraft pointed, holding the Artifact out for confirmation. It pulsed even more brightly, hurting their eyes.

“Well,” said Howard. “I guess we got some clamberin’ to do.” He squinted and casually leaped off the rim, aiming for the ledge below.

The sudden splash took them all aback. Howard yelled, Glory screamed, and Lovecraft found himself hunching protectively over the Artifact.

Howard was flailing in water—so absolutely clear it was entirely invisible except where the ripples and splashes distorted the light. The entire chamber was a lake.

“Don’t just stand there! Help me out!” said Howard. And now they realized the sound carried differently-the echoes coming far too quickly for a chamber of its apparent size. The sound had that distinct tone of carrying over water.

“I’ll be God damned,” Howard said when they had pulled him back up. “At least it ain’t as cold as you’d expect.”

“Look,” said Glory.

Now that Howard was out, the water level had become invisible once again. Instead, the ripples made it appear that the submerged rock formations were trembling and swaying. Glory had to remind herself that it was a trick of the light and that everything was under water.

“How do we get across?” said Howard, emptying a boot. “I ain’t the best swimmer. How about y’aIl?”

Lovecraft looked somber. “I must confess, I cannot swim,” he said. “I was a lifeguard in college at the old Kenyon swimming pool,” said Glory. “I suppose I’ll just have to tow you boys then.”

“That seems neither possible nor desirable to me,” said Lovecraft. “Since Imanito drew us the diagram and prophesied our activities here, there must be some other way across.”

“Someone musta been down here before us,” said Howard. “How else could the Injun know the layout of the cave?” He removed his shirt and did his best to wring it out. “Look, we could go back and get them ladders we pulled down.”

“But that would entail a long delay. And perhaps an unwanted confrontation with the odd men.”

“You’re assuming they followed us down,” said Glory.

Howard produced his pistols to dry them, making both Glory and Lovecraft cringe at the thought of what they might do were they to go off. “I know,” said Howard. “Wouldn’t hardly want to shoot down here, huh? I can just see this whole place comin’ down on us. Look, I can go back by myself with a flashlight.”

“We may need their full charge on our way out,” said Lovecraft.

THEY ARGUED THE VARIOUS MERITS and pitfalls of going back together, or singly, or trying to swim the lake. In the end, after a quick examination of the lake’s periphery, they all went back together to fetch one of the ladders. The light of the Artifact diminished sharply as they backtracked, but Howard’s markers passed their test of reliability, and they were able to save the flashlight batteries. When they reached the base of the kiva, they first checked for signs that they had been followed. There was no evidence of the odd men.

Howard’s idea was to break one of the ladders into two pieces, but Lovecraft stopped him.

“How will we get back up?”

Howard’s jaw dropped. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

Glory suggested a practical solution. “Don’t break it,” she said.

“Just take it apart. You could tie it together again later, couldn’t you?” She looked at Lovecraft. “With your ball of string?”

“Our hats are off to you,” said Lovecraft, producing the twine once again from his satchel. “I knew it would prove useful someday.”

Howard disassembled the ladder and the two men lashed the crossbars into three small rafts, which they were able to carry back with ease. When Glory objected that she didn’t need one, Howard was quick to point out that she might want something on which to float her shoes and clothes.

“You ain’t plannin’ to swim all that ways all decked out, are ya?” he said. “Not that your takin’ your clothes off is the first thing on my mind or nothin.’ ” He laughed, and the sound echoed loudly, changing tone and pitch in eerie ways.