The Great Troll War полностью

The geologist switched the Ground Penetrating Sonar to the main screens so we could see what lay beneath. It seemed that Shandar had opened up a well that plunged down eighteen miles, and up this channel was rising a steady stream of molten rock, to pool in a large subterranean lake of magma beneath his skyscraper, into which we were now heading, out of control. It didn’t take an expert to realise that when we hit the magma lake, the most sophisticated underground weapon of war would be nothing but molten steel.

‘Deck to topside now two hundred and twenty feet,’ said the helmswoman. ‘Rate of descent now seventeen moles per second.’

‘How long until hull rupture?’ asked the captain.

‘Twelve minutes,’ said the second-in-command, looking at the dials and screens in front of her, ‘but,’ she added, ‘we’re only a minute inside the safe window for escape pod activation.’

‘Very well,’ said the captain, ‘tell the crew to stand down from duties; you are to update the log and fetch Last Letters from my safe. Miss Strange, with me.’

I followed her down the boat, the crew stepping aside to let us past and tipping their caps respectfully. We arrived at the aft cabin where we’d come in and walked to the escape pod hangared in the far bulkhead. The captain pulled a lever and the door popped open. The pod was about the size of a pillar box: there was room only for one. The lack of urgency among the rest of the crew meant only one thing: there was only the one pod. One was all that was needed – smallest out, pinpoint the stricken craft, call in an excavator or a group of miners, depending on depth. If that failed, the crew could fire torpedoes and climb out through the voids made by those. But with the exterior rock now the consistency of toffee and the temperature rising by the second, none of those options was possible.

‘But—’

‘The Subterrain Service was always a hazardous assignment, Miss Strange, and we knew that when we signed up.’ The captain smiled. ‘Listen, any sorcerer powerful enough to create a magma chamber for defence is quite outside my realms of expertise – but conversely, he’s well within yours.’

She stepped back as the second-in-command handed me the ship’s log and an envelope that contained the crew’s Last Letters. They both saluted and wished me the very best of luck. Already I could hear the crew singing a soft-ground shanty:

Proud subterraneans we be

and Terra is our nation

The subsoil is our dwelling place

the worms our destination

Feldspar had accompanied us. I said to him, ‘You can fit in here too, can’t you?’

‘I don’t think I’ll be opening that restaurant after all,’ he said. ‘Tell Colin I’m glad he’s the last Dragon and not me. He’ll be much better at it.’

‘I’m staying with you,’ I said.

‘If you do then our sacrifice has been for nothing,’ said Feldspar. ‘This is the only play, Jen.’

I opened my mouth to speak, but I had no good argument. He was right. It was the only play. I took a deep breath and turned to Captain Lutumba.

‘Thank you, Captain.’

She smiled.

‘It has a been a pleasure sailing with you, Miss Strange. Make us proud, make us matter.’

‘I will.’

‘And listen,’ added Feldspar, ‘kick Shandar’s butt big-time, right?’

‘You have my word.’

I took another deep breath and stepped into the escape pod.

‘Goodbye, Jen,’ said Feldspar. ‘Love you.’

‘Love you too,’ I said. My eyes began to fill with tears as the captain slammed the pod door shut. Almost instantly I felt the small craft shudder as it moved vertically out of the Subterrain, my feet growing hot from the small solid-fuel booster that was pushing me upwards, the revolving auger on the top of the craft cutting through the soft medium as it rose. A minute later and I felt the auger start to bite – but not to take me through the roots and turf into the fresh air of the Devon countryside as I had expected, but into something else: something hard. Sparks and hot metal drifted past the porthole as the carbide-tipped cutter bored deep into the barrier above me. In another minute or two the porthole cleared and I hastily unlatched the door and stepped out onto a smooth concrete floor. I grabbed my bag, sword, paperwork and storage jars as the escape pod sank slowly back into the ground. Within a minute it had disappeared from view and the concrete had self-repaired itself so perfectly there was no evidence the floor had even been breached.

I leaned against a packing case, sank to the floor and silently wept for the loss of not only a good friend, but the crew of the Bellerophon, who had so stoically accepted their fate – and now trusted me to make their sacrifice matter. I sighed and wiped the tears from my cheeks. If my resolve was not already cemented before this, it was now. I would defeat Shandar, no matter what it took.

I took a deep breath, calmed myself and looked around at the sub-basement in which I found myself. There was work to be done.