“Right fork… I think,” replied Ginsbergbear absently.
“Probably doesn’t matter so long as we’re headed upstream,” from Boz, “He’d no idea what we were looking for anyway.”
This branch of the sewer soon began to narrow, the brickwork was old and weathered and the stuff they waded through becoming deeper. The air was thick and treacly with a hint of ammonia, the heat oppressive and the darkness, alleviated only by the skittering beams of their headlamps, was unsettling the reluctant heroes. An eerie mist, faintly glowing a bilious green, hung above the ‘liquor’ that rippled about their knees. There was a splash from up ahead, the mist swirled and a low bow-wave swept towards them. Something large and slithery brushed between Phoebles’ legs. Lady Augusta jumped, shrieked and then looked embarrassed.
“Keep moving,” said Slasher.
‘I’m really not enjoying this a lot,” said Phoebles after a while.
“You should try it from down here,” said Ferdy, whose lack of length in the leg department was, yet again, proving a disappointment.
A pair of turquoise eyes, on stalks, popped up to stare at the interlopers, and Zelda blasted them with her shotgun. Everyone ducked as slime splattered in all directions and the booming discharge echoed up and down the tunnel.
“For…” Slasher howled, “We could have brought the Dagenham Girl Pipers if we’d wanted to make sure everyone knew we were here. Don’t do that again.”
“What’s this?” said Aunty Stella. She was pointing to a semi-circular arch just above head height in the tunnel wall. There was a broad arrow chiselled into the capstone, a grill hanging awkwardly where it had rusted through and a little stream dribbling from the orifice. Dark Flo went over to inspect.
“It’s not sewage, it’s fresh water,” she observed.
“You been tasting things again?” asked Phoebles.
“Glamour it is,” said Master Dorje,
“A disguise. Making the tunnel a working outlet to look like, it must be.”
“And it’s not on the map,” noted Ginsbergbear.
“Good enough,” said Slasher, “we’ll check it out.”
Dark Flo yanked the corroded grating off the wall and they were lifting Dorje and Ferdinand into the side tunnel when Ginsbergbear noticed a pair of beady crimson eyes piercing the darkness up the main sewer. There was a squeak.
The two eyes became six and the squeaking increased, attracting Bozzy’s attention. He nudged Slasher. By the time everyone was aware of the situation there were dozens of tiny, perfectly round red eyes with pinpoint black irises peering at them. Flo reached for her katana. Zelda loaded a flechette cartridge into the breach of her SPAS and fired up the tunnel. Blood curdling shrieks filled the air, died away and the eyes were gone. Indescribable shreds of matter flowed past. Phoebles shuddered.
Slasher’s ears were ringing, his hearing muffled.
“I thought I said… Just stop that, Zelda! Now, everyone up into the hole. Quick.”
The side tunnel’s stonework was ancient. Its barrel roof, barely five foot high, forced all but Ferdy to bend over and waddle inelegantly.
“I hope this doesn’t go on long, it’s murder on the knees,” said Phoebles.
They tottered on, with the occasional ‘Ouch’ as someone banged their head. After ten or so painful minutes they came to a small pool where a spring bubbled playfully.
Dorje pointed with his staff. “The source of your stream this is.”
“Hmm,” said Boz, “I think we’d worked that out.”
A low, stone sill just beyond the pool ensured the crystal water flowed in the desired direction and after a few paces the passage took a sharp turn to the left. It began to open out until they could all stand upright at last. Then the tunnel ended, in a solid wall of bedrock. A Minoan Labrys had, long ago, been incised into the rock and picked out in gold leaf.
Master Dorje began to search.
“Let us see. Ah yes.” He was scraping away, with one sandalled foot, at the dried mud that obscured the floor of the passage, revealing a pentagram of Tyrian purple glazed tessera set into a plain mosaic. He thrust his staff into a two-inch diameter hole at the centre of the pentangle and began to rummage in the folds of his yak-hide overcoat. To the amazement of all he produced a soprillo saxophone and handed it to Phoebles.
“Dressed most appropriately for this task you are. When I call for it, a ‘B flat’ you will give me.”
Phoebles fingered the instrument without much confidence.
Dorje placed one hand on each blade of the carved pelekys and began to press.
“Now, Mr P.”
Phoebles blew hard on the sax and the rock wall, like a stretched rubber sheet, began to give.
“Again,” cried Master Dorje.
The Minoan Labrys, also known as “pelekys” or “sagaris”, was a double headed ritual axe, found in ancient Minoan depictions of the Mother Goddess. Its symbolism is related to the labyrinth and it is believed that the meaning of the word labyrinth is the ‘house of the double axe’. The Labrys was used by female priestesses only, for bull sacrifices. The shape of the double axe (referring to the moon) and the belief that it was used in battle by the Amazons make it a symbol associated with female empowerment to this day.
Representations of the double axe are found in Africa, in Old Europe and in Minoan Crete among other places.