Sorcerer's Secret (18 page)

S
oka stood at the edge of the little plaza that surrounded one of the double-arched towers that held up the Brooklyn Bridge, leaning carelessly against the guardrail as she stared across the river at Manhattan lighting up at the onset of evening. Tears rose unbidden as she took in the bold, bright city before her. She'd been up and down New York since the Trap fell, but it had never before hit her just how wonderfully strange was this new world outside her park. As she stood far above the water rushing to the sea, the wind whipping through her hair, she felt like an eagle perched on a mountain ledge, privileged to see the world from such rarefied air. The setting sun sent stabs of golden light glinting off of the towering metal buildings across the river, each skyscraper fighting the rest to be the closest to heaven. She'd never dreamed such a world existed, and all the while it lay just outside her little village in the Ramble. Staring at the twinkling city before her, Soka forgot for a moment about her worries and just gloried in her freedom.

She heard a shout from behind her and reluctantly turned, the euphoria already fading. Rory had found the door in the giant, brick-lined pillar that held up the east end of the suspension bridge. In his mortal world, this door did not exist, but here in the spirit realm it was the entrance to the past, where the old caissons were still in use deep underwater, keeping out the river while trapping inside the souls of those who had died during those dangerous days of the bridge's construction. According to the Fair Engineer, those damned souls still worked in the high-pressured air of the caisson, eternally digging into the riverbed, chained to the bridge for all time.

“Do not let them know you are mortals,” Emily had warned them. “They hate mortals for being able to breathe the free air. They'd try to trap you down there with them. So get in and get out—if you follow my instructions exactly, they shouldn't bother you.”

They'd agreed. The last thing anyone wanted was to die in that caisson.

Now it was time to pass through the door, and Bridget and Fritz moved in front of Rory, who was about to enter.

“Remember to be careful in there, Rory,” Fritz told him. “You're still healing.”

“I'm fine!” Rory protested. Soka sighed, still feeling a twinge as she recalled him lying in her lap on the floor Simon's car, unconscious and bleeding. She thought she'd lost him and it had hurt even worse than she'd feared.

“I'll look after him,” she promised, stepping to Rory's side. “If he staggers, I will see.”

“I can look after myself,” Rory said.

“So I've noticed,” Soka replied, then turned to step through the door into the Brooklyn Bridge.

They stood at the top of an old set of stairs. Fritz trotted toward them atop Clarence, and together the two began hopping down one step at a time. Bridget followed and then Rory, with Soka last. Soon they left the light of the open doorway behind as they descended into the dark.

They reached the first landing, which was dimly lit by a flickering lantern on the wall. Bridget tried to take it off its hook so they could have light on the stairs, but the lantern wouldn't budge. They'd have to rely on these little way posts to guide them—there was no other light. The stairs continued down from the landing, and they followed them deeper into the tower.

Soka could just make out Rory's jacket in the near darkness. She'd been so scared that he would be hurt the way Finn had been, that she'd pushed him away. And then he got hurt anyway, and it had nothing to do with her. In the end, people were hurt no matter what she did. Maybe the time had come to stop being afraid.

The soft light grew stronger as they approached the bottom of the stairs. Soka could hear the loud drip of water sliding down the old stones, each drop sounding like a gunshot in the quiet stairwell. They reached the bottom of the stairs, where a trapdoor waited in the middle of the floor.

“This must be the air lock,” Fritz said. He hopped down off Clarence and gave the rat a pat. “You wait here, old boy. The ladder's a killer. We'll be back soon enough.”

“Let's go spelunking!” Bridget said brightly, leaning over to lift the trapdoor. A sickly yellow glow rose up out of the hole in the floor, but Rory didn't hesitate before climbing down through the hole, with Fritz riding on his shoulder. Bridget followed and Soka went last, pulling the trapdoor shut after her.

The room they descended into was just large enough to hold them. An old lantern lit the space from one high corner, though it barely beat back the shadows. A round wheel poked out of the wall, and a second wheel rose out of the floor next to another trapdoor. Soka guessed it led down to the caisson. On the wall near the ladder hung a strange-looking clock, with a single arrow pointing up to the number 0.

“That's the pressure gauge,” Fritz told her, noticing her confusion. “That tells us when it's safe to go down, and later, when it's safe to go up.”

“So now what?” Bridget asked.

“Now we pressurize,” Fritz said. “Soka, could you turn that wheel by you on the floor?”

Soka leaned over and gave the wheel a big turn. The sound of air hissing into the room cut through the silence, and the arrow on the pressure gauge began to move, sliding past number after number as the air pressure rose to match the pressure down in the caisson. Finally, the hissing stopped, as did the gauge.

“Can I open it now?” Rory asked, kneeling by the trapdoor.

“Yes,” Fritz answered. “But remember, this is the easy part. The hard part will be when we come back. Then we'll have to reduce the air pressure and wait twenty minutes before opening the trapdoor above us. Any sooner and Rory and I run the risk of being crippled or even dying. Soka is a spirit, so she should be safe. I don't know what would happen to you, Bridget.”

“I don't want to find out!” Bridget said. “I'm already feeling a little weird.”

“Emily said the air pressure can play tricks on your mind,” Fritz warned them. “Some of the men reported hallucinating while they worked. So stay focused, find the package, and then we get out! Okay? Rory, I said, okay?”

“Okay,” Rory answered impatiently, his hand on the trapdoor. “Can I open it now?”

“Yes.” Fritz lifted his helmet over his head and nodded. Rory pulled up the trapdoor and it fell over with a thump, making them all flinch.

“Careful!” Fritz warned. “We don't want to attract any attention.”

But Rory was already disappearing down the ladder, taking Fritz with him. Bridget followed and finally Soka climbed behind them into the depths of the caisson.

They climbed straight down through a cramped shaft barely wide enough for their bodies. Even Soka could tell the air was strange down here—she felt it pushing on her like an invisible hand trying to suffocate her. The shaft was pitch-black, with only the dim light coming from the air lock to cut through the darkness. Soka felt like she was descending into hell. Eventually, flickering red light began to rise up around them, and then suddenly they passed out of the shaft and into the caisson proper.

The ladder led down to the rocky ground, where they carefully stepped off the final rung and gathered in a small group. Gazing around, Soka felt a shudder run through her. This truly was a hellish place. The caisson looked more like an ancient underwater cave than a man-made room. Rocky walls rose up on all sides, though wooden walls separated various sections of the caisson from one another. Wooden supports rose up along the rock wall every few feet, keeping the ceiling, and the entire bridge, from falling down on top of them. Red light from various lanterns cast devilish black shapes onto the walls.

Everywhere they looked they saw the shadows of men, swinging pickaxes into the stony ground or lugging wheelbarrows filled with rocks toward larger shafts, where they dumped their cargo into large containers at the base. One such container, completely filled, began to rise up its shaft, disappearing into the ceiling. That must have been how they cleared all the rubble from the site, Soka guessed. The men spoke to one another in low tones, but Soka could not pick out any words. It sounded like meaningless rumbling. The only other sounds were the bite of the pick into the stone and the grunts of the men. Soka swallowed—she prayed none of the shadow men looked in her direction. She clutched her bow, which hung from her shoulder as always, but she didn't know if an arrow would do any good down here.

“Quick, let's find it and get out of here,” Fritz whispered. Soka remembered Emily's instructions. She'd hid the package beneath an overturned wheelbarrow near one of the wooden walls. Soka gulped as she looked around—the caisson stretched on in every direction, seemingly without end. Which wall did she mean?

“I'll go this way,” Rory said, and started to walk off in one direction. Soka grabbed his arm, holding him fast.

“We stick together,” she hissed. “Otherwise we'll never find each other again.”

Rory started to argue, but then he reluctantly nodded. They picked a direction and began to walk toward the nearest dividing wall.

That particular wall didn't have any wheelbarrows nearby, and neither did the one after that. Soka's heart was in her mouth as she glanced around—with every second that passed she grew more fearful that one of the shadow workers would notice them. But so far, they stayed away, keeping to their work. As they searched, however, a new worry cropped up. The first sign came from Rory, who kept glaring at the walls.

“Someone's watching me,” he muttered. “I can feel his black eyes on me.” In his fear, his voice grew louder. “Where is he? I can feel him!” Soka placed a hand over Rory's mouth to shut him up, furtively looking around to make certain no one heard them. They checked the next wall—no wheelbarrow. Now Bridget was starting to look uncomfortable.

“Soka, I don't want to freak you out,” the paper girl said quietly, pulling out her little wooden sword. “But I think my sword is whistling. Do you think the shadow guys can hear? What song is that? It's on the tip of my brain! Man, it's killing me!”

“It's the air,” Soka whispered. “It's making you hear things. We've got to find this package quickly before we all go crazy.”

“Too late,” Fritz said from his place on Rory's shoulder. He started to talk louder, as if struggling to be heard. “I feel like I'm inside a seashell!”

“It's ‘Jingle Bell Rock!'” Bridget exclaimed. “I love Christmas !”

“Be quiet!” Soka hissed. “It's all in your head!” Some of the shadow men had started to glance in their direction. It was only a matter of time before they realized they had strangers in their midst. At the next wall there was a pile of stones, but no wheelbarrow.

“Maybe somebody is using the wheelbarrow,” Bridget suggested. “Man, I could use some eggnog right about now.”

“Emily swore that the wheelbarrow hadn't been used in a century,” Soka reminded her. “These men are locked in a hellish routine. They've got no reason to change it.”

“We better find it soon,” Rory said through gritted teeth. Soka was alarmed to see how haggard he looked. “I can't take much more of this demon's voice in my head. Wait, what's that!”

The next wall had come into view, and there was a wheelbarrow, overturned near the rock wall. Before anyone could react, Rory bolted forward, staggering as he pushed through the heavy air to reach Emily's hiding place. He righted the wheelbarrow in one smooth motion, sending it clattering against the wall. The shadow men had really started to notice them now; some were leaning against their pickaxes and watching them with great interest. Even their mumbling had started to hum a little louder, though Soka still couldn't make out the words. She had a bad feeling about this.

Rory was oblivious, however, desperate to escape whatever voice he was hearing in his head, and he dug through the dirt where the wheelbarrow had been with his bare hands. Bridget knelt down next to him and began to dig as well; her paper-and wood hand cut through the dirt more easily than Rory's flesh ones. But Rory dug with such abandon that Soka worried he'd hurt himself. She glanced around—the shadow men were still watching. She tried to gauge the distance from their spot to the ladder—it seemed a mile away.

“I found it!” Rory shouted, the compressed air making him completely heedless of the shadow men. He lifted a brown wrapped package into the air, dirt still falling in clumps from his prize. In his elation at finding the treasure, he didn't watch what he was doing, and his other hand grazed a sharp rock by his knees. A red line appeared along the back of his hand, and a single drop of blood landed on the ground.

A hush fell over the caisson as all work ceased and the mumbling dried up in an instant. Rory didn't seem to notice, but Bridget was looking around with worry on her face and Soka could feel her stomach turn as she realized that every single shadow man was staring at that drop of blood. The murmuring picked up again, growing louder and louder, but this time Soka could make out a word being repeated over and over again.

“Mortal. Mortal. Mortal. Mortal. MORTAL!”

“Rory!” she called. Rory looked up, his eyes widening as he saw the spirits all around. “Rory, we've got to run. Are you ready?”

“Wait!” Fritz ordered them. He pulled something out of his armor. “Go on my signal.” He tossed something through the air, which landed at the feet of the nearest men. A loud crack sounded, making the shadow men leap back in confusion.

“RUN!” Fritz screamed, and Soka took off, Bridget and Rory behind her. The shadow men's confusion didn't last long, and soon they were giving chase. Fritz threw firecracker after firecracker at the men up ahead, clearing a path to the ladder. But it looked so far away.