Doctor Who_ Bunker Soldiers - Martin Day [43]
I couldn’t help but grin. Thank goodness Olexander was better prepared for this expedition than I was! Of course, he had no idea that anyone was following him, but I imagined the torches he lit along the way would mark his path back to the stairs, and the door he still expected to be open. They formed a string of fiery beads, leading out of the labyrinth – and a chill gripped me as I remembered that every labyrinth must have a beast at its centre.
I finished my descent and examined my surroundings as keenly as the limited light allowed. It seeined that I was in a great, dark space, a void under the cathedral riddled with foundational columns and pillars. I hoped Olexander knew where he was going, and that there was a purpose to his exploration, for surely this was not a place well visited by travellers or guides. It would be easy to get lost in it, and wander in unwitting circles until overcome by exhaustion.
I walked towards the second torch as quickly as I could, my hands still outstretched in the area of oppressive darkness between the two shallow pools of brightness. I began to pass chambers and vaults, and areas with low ceilings and doors, but I concentrated on following Olexander. There was so much to explore here, but little, I imagined, would help to explain what had killed Taras the builder, or why I had been blamed for his death.
The second torch was much the same as the first, a sulphurous mass of licking flame set into a latticed holder of blackened metal. I was not sure if Olexander was carrying a supply of torches, or if some had been left down here in the catacombs. I suspected the latter.
When I came to the third torch I saw that it crackled and spat more loudly than the others. And I noticed for the first time a definite slant to the flame, which could only mean that some air was moving back into the catacombs. The slight wind – no more than a breath, the touch of which was icy on my skin –
seemed to be coming from a point almost diametrically opposite the staircase and door behind me. All this, to my mind, implied a second exit, another way to leave this dark nightmare of stone and space. That prospect cheered me no end.
I couldn’t believe how far, and how quickly, Olexander had come. For all the fact that I had come down the stairs some time after him, and doubtless descended more slowly, I had thought I would catch up with his bent frame within minutes. I had no idea how long I had been on the stairs, and in the tunnels under the cathedral, but I suspected it was beginning to run into hours.
It was as I reached the fifth or sixth torch that I began to sense that I was not alone. Occasionally I thought I heard a scuffed footfall, just out of step with my own. I had imagined it to be Olexander, but now I was less sure. There was a curious sliding undercurrent to the noise, which set my teeth on edge. I tried to tell myself it was only the harsh whisper of rats’ feet, but I could not rid myself of the impression that I was being watched.
I turned sharply the next time the noise came, trying to pinpoint the source of the sound. Nothing, bar the flickering shadows on ancient stone walls. Even so, the hairs on the back of my neck began to rise: something was very, very wrong.
I headed towards the next torch, walking faster now despite the uneven surface beneath my feet. I suddenly felt cold, and hungry; it was all I could do to stop my teeth chattering.
Something caressed the side of my face; already on edge, I turned instinctively towards it before realising it was just another breath of wind.
I set my face forward again – towards Olexander, I hoped –
but there was a niggle in my subconscious. I had seen something anomalous when I looked sideways, I was sure of it; I risked a longer glance,