"For a man to rise,

One must fall

When one man cries

All hear the call.
 

The fate of the world

Lies within our grasp

The fate of our soul

Under lock and latch."

-- From the Book of Merlin --

***

"It's anyone's guess where we'll find the egress from this miserable place." Jules groaned as he and Wells topped yet another spire of black stone, veined with deep red rush streaks.

Wells said nothing. He preferred to suffer in silence.

Harry stood at the top, a tiny crystal spinning in the palm of his hand. Two pairs of tiny hands were permanently fixed within the globe. It twinkled in the sparse light of the seemingly endless expanse of volcanic rock of the world they had just entered. It was something Tesla and Al had made during one of their bored moments for telling which direction was dark magic and which light. A rather crude instrument, but at times when you wished to prevail and not use up other resources, it came in handy.

His face lit up when the crystal ball stopped spinning. "Ah-ha!"

Jules stood up from where he had been seated, swiped the sweat from his brow, and came next to Harry to glance at the crystal. It pointed north. He risked a peek in that direction, knowing the atmosphere of this crazy place would more than likely distort anything he saw, but even so.

"Mon Dieu!" He exclaimed.

Wells stood up next and came for a look. He scanned the horizon, or lack thereof, because of the constantly shifting swirls of fog like mists that hid the valleys of volcanic rock they had endured so far that seemed to stretch off into forever. "I see." He nodded.

Jules took Wells hand and pointed it elsewhere. "Oh." Wells gave him a sour look. "I knew that. Just testing you."

Jules gave Wells a school boy look. "Oh, Mister Wells, how can I ever possibly outwit such as you?"

"Would you two stop complaining and come here!" Harry demanded.

They stepped to his side, their friendly banter lost in the moment of need.

Harry took a slight trace of powder from his pouch, which never seemed to empty of magic dust and strew it before him. It caught the air and began tracing a line down the side of the mount they stood upon, like a burning fuse heading for gunpowder. "This is our path. Follow closely, for there are magical traps."

That worried Jules and Wells. They gave each other concerned looks.

Harry turned to them and grinned. "Got you!"

They burst into angry cries, but Harry ignored them and descended the other side of the mount, pursuing the fuse of light still burning ahead of them.

***

Watson strode back and forth before the fireplace, much as Sherlock often did as he brainstormed an idea and pursued it to its logical conclusion, but this was pursuit of a far different matter. Finally, he stopped and turned bloodshot eyes on Sherlock, who had been watching him silently as he paced, weighing what words of comfort to give.

"I've received a letter from her every day at precisely..." He reached into his vest pocket, withdrew a small pocket watch, examined the time, and then said. "Eight Oh Five am. Why should this day be any different?"

"It's Sunday!" Sherlock said, the hint of amusement on his lips.

"Oh." Watson declared with no further comment, and collapsed into his chair, humped over like an aging man, defeated and deflated from his prior workup of frustration and anger.

"Indeed, a much different Watson at times than..." Sherlock thought, and then got up to erase those memories; once more locking them back in to the deep recess of his heart.

"You really shouldn't worry over James anymore, Watson. I'm quite sure he's in capable hands."

Watson glared at him. "I trust so as well. Madame Curie is an excellent doctor, as well as friend to us and him, but still..."

Sherlock rose and went to the window to look out, as was his wont when his own mind was in turmoil of thought. "You fear another attack upon him."

"Jolly well likely, don't you think?"

Sherlock unfolded the hands he had placed behind his back, and then leaped for Watson, who gave him a surprised look, just before he fell to the floor with Sherlock on top of him.

The glass of the window exploded inwards and the ceiling overhead burst into magical flames that began to spread rapidly to the sides.

Simultaneously, there was the sound of their front door smashing open, running feet, and gunshots outside.

Sherlock rolled off Watson, and helped him up as Inspector Bloodstone and Constable Evans burst into the room. They spotted the flames.

"Holmes! You must leave at once!" The Inspector gasped, breathing hard.

"Not at all, Inspector. The glass is easily repaired."

"But the flames..."

"No bother at all, Inspector." Sherlock said calmly. Then he clapped his hands three times and the magical flames across the ceiling made a fizzling sound and vanished, without leaving a single scorch mark on the wood there.

Watson and the Inspector both looked up in surprise.

Constable Evans grinned at Sherlock. "Magic. How'd you do that?"

"A little something Harry made up for me. In case."

"In case what?" The Inspector blasted out in an accusatory tone at Sherlock.

Sherlock waved his hand dismissively. "More importantly, I assume you caught the gentlemen who launched this attack?"

The Inspector glared at Sherlock several long moments, and then nodded his head.

"Shall we get to it then?" Sherlock demanded.

He led the way down the stairs, the poor Inspector following like a bad school child having to follow the teacher to the room where spankings were held.

Constable Evans gave Watson a close look. "You don't believe him, do you?"

"Not for a bloody minute!" Watson declared, knowing that Sherlock had a lot of explaining to do about that little magical trick.

***

"Full speed ahead, Pilot!" Captain Nemo ordered as the golden sub descended into the murky depths of the Thames until its keel barely touched the sludgy bottom of the dark waters. Huge Tesla spots lanced ahead of the sub, revealing some debris and the above hulls of warships, merchant ships and smaller vessels as they sailed above them.

"Rather different looking from this perspective." Conan observed to Challenger, who had been rather distant since they came aboard the Nautilus.

"All these years I've sailed the Thames and never knew what was on its bottom." He finally said, turning to look at Conan.

"Is it that important to you?"

"Rather."

"Then I would suggest you try walking its bottom sometime." Captain Nemo offered in response. "It's even more different than what you think now."

"I'll take your word for it."Challenger said, quickly dismissing the offer.

Conan gave his larger friend the hint of a smile. "You're claustrophobic, aren't you?"

Challenger gave Conan his best look of disapproval, and then finally subsided into a frown. "God has given me many great gifts, but the ability to cherish confined places? No. Not so much."

"But you have spelunked for years." Conan exclaimed.

"Conan, I am an explorer first, and a coward second."

Captain Nemo barked with laughter, causing his command crew to smile. "Gentlemen, much ado about nothing. I suggest you keep your eyes peeled, for we near the channel that Conan's map has offered us for passage."

They all turned to face the murky depths, broken by the lancing beams of light. The Nautilus engines could barely be heard as they moved rapidly below the surface of the water.

Conan frowned a moment. "No wonder you could have so easily sunk all those war ships, Captain. I can barely hear this vast machine, and I stand upon its decks. I can't imagine how anyone above us could."

Ned, a tall Nordic man, standing almost the same height as Challenger, and even with Conan, strode into the room, whistling a ditty he remembered from the bar he had visited the night before. He stopped when everyone's attention flew to him. He was the kind of man that always became the center of attention because of his famous good looks, and his buoyant personality. He flashed his best smile, and then sat upon the map laid out on the Captain's desk.

"So, how many will die on this mission, Captain?"

Conan and Challenger exchanged alarmed looks.

Captain Nemo merely smiled. "Ned, you really must stop teasing the landlubbers who come aboard my vessel."

Ned inclined his head. He got up and headed for the observation window and looked out. "In that case I would suggest engines full reverse, all ahead, stop."

Captain Nemo didn't argue with Ned's eyes, which were capable of spotting a flea on an elephant's back at ten thousand yards.

"Pilot, you heard the man!" Captain Nemo commanded.

The Pilot nodded. "Aye, Captain. Engines reversed. All ahead, stop!"

The Nautilus engines roared for a moment, and then the vessel drifted to a stop.

"Abaft." He said.

Conan and Challenger joined him, along with the Captain.

"Well done, Conan. Well done!" Challenger congratulated his friend.

Conan shrugged. "This is the easy part. Now we have to get past the underwater gates."

Captain Nemo glanced at him with an arched eyebrow. "You never mentioned that before."

Challenger eyed his friend's blushing face. "You really weren't sure this opening was here, were you?"

Conan nodded, forced to admit it.

Ned clapped him on the shoulder. "I admire a man with the gift of gab."

Conan glared at him.

Captain Nemo shrugged. "Pilot, Abaft Twenty two degrees, engines, slow and steady as she goes."

"Aye, aye, Captain." The Pilot shot back.

The Nautilus effortlessly turned into the vast cavern that had been hidden by large shrouds of seaweed and debris from above, and gently shoved its way into the passageway beyond.

Conan held his breath for a moment as they did so, something not lost on Challenger, who filed it away for a talk later on.

***

Sherlock and Watson watched as the perpetrator of the attack upon their flat was marched before them in the investigatory room in the back of the Constabulary. The Inspector sat in his chair behind a large desk, with Constable Evans on one side and a second Constable on the other. The room's main door was guarded by two more Constables, their night sticks out and ready as a very burly looking man with dark, sultry eyes stepped inside, his hands cuffed behind him.

He looked fierce and frightening. The hatred in his eyes blazed from them like a torch in the night. His face was scarred in several places and now had growing purple bruises from the tumble the Constables had given him after they shot him. His right arm was in a sling, but he carried it as if it was no matter to him, even when one of the Constables accidentally brushed against it, his face showed no emotion. No pain.

He spotted Sherlock and Watson right away. "You should be dead. The lot of you!" He said in a low Scots burr.

"Rumors of our death are premature." Sherlock answered.

"His name is Richard Sharp. A factory worker from Olive."

"I see." Sherlock acknowledged to the Inspector, who rose to read more from his summary he had made. "Recently released from the Black Tower for good behavior. (Now likely to stay there for the rest of his miserable days!) And linked to various criminal organizations and one that we have recently been investigating."

"The Dark Druids." Sherlock said.

"As you directed after James was struck down." The Inspector nodded. "That's about all we have on him, but now that we have an ID, we shall certainly have more."

"I welcome that knowledge, Inspector. Well done."

"Constables." Sherlock said.

The Constables guarding Richard Sharp forced him to sit in the chair opposite the Inspector, who sat back down and placed his chin on the cup of his palms, observing Richard's face, as if he adored a loved one.

"I don't like being watched."

"You should have thought of that before you attempted to murder friends of the Queen!" The Inspector shot back.

Richard sneered. "There is no Queen. We..."

He shut up suddenly.

Sherlock stepped closer. "You killed her. That is what you were about to say, isn't it Mister Sharp? That you and your cult of Druids are pursuing a course of destruction whose intent is to bring down the Greater Britains?"

Richard glanced at the Inspector. "Who's the coppers here anyway?"

"Answer his question." The Inspector ordered.

Richard tried to cross his hand over his chest, but the restricting cuffs locked him in place. He grunted angrily, struggling to move his arms then gave up in frustration and sat there, his face dark and sullen. "I have my rights."

"No, Richard." Sherlock responded. "You have absolutely none in a state of war!"

"There is not declared war." Richard grunted, happy with his response, as shown by the smirk on his fat lips.

"Oh, in that you are quite wrong." Sherlock explained. "Once you and your friends assassinated the Queen and then attempted to kill my friends, war was declared. There can be no turning back now. No safe harbor."

Richard glared at Sherlock. "No, you're wrong. It's you who have no turning back. No safe harbor."

He leaned forward, his eyes blazing at Sherlock. "Soon, this and your empire... (To the Inspector)...will crumble like sweet cake in your hands. All of it!"

"Not really." Sherlock replied calmly.

"It's more likely you will hang upon the end of a rope."

Richard roared. "That isn't going to happen!"

Sherlock sighed as if he were lecturing to a small child. "Your foolish organization hasn't a chance in succeeding. We know everything! Everything!"

Richard roared to his feet..."Not about the Dark Crystal you don't!"

Then Richard froze in horror at the satisfied look on both the Inspector's face and Sherlock's.

Before either could say anything Richard began thrashing violently, as if his entire body were being shaken by gigantic hands. The Constables tried to steady him, but were shaken off by the enormous strength of his body. The Constables at the door rushed forward even as Richard's face became blood red, swelling up larger and larger, as was the rest of his body.

"Down!" Sherlock ordered at the top of his lungs.

Then Richard exploded!

It was no easy feat for Jules and Wells to track down the path of the Druids from the highlands of the Scots. They had made every effort to erase their magical footprints, but with the help of Tesla and Edison, they had managed to build a tracking device that Harry Houdini had made possible with his understanding of the laws of magix...the core principles and foundation of both white and black magic.

The Master of the World settled to the top of the hill where the Druid stones, standing more than thirty meters tall, and almost even with the top of the Master of the World, which itself was an immense vessel, were ominous to look at. They were hewn from volcanic rock, black with pits of red embedded in them.

Harry, who had rode with them to make sure their tracking device was accurate, got off last. He was not impressed by the huge pillars, which had been weathered and worn by the centuries, if not millennium they had been standing there.

He, Jules and Wells remained well outside the center of the ring of stones, which dominated the view for many meters in all directions, dwarfing even the nearby hills, with their ominous brooding presence. Harry felt a nagging energy at the back of his neck and swatted at it.

Jules looked at him questioningly.

"Just a disembodied Druid trying to take over my body."

Jules eyebrows shot upwards in alarm.

Harry patted him on the shoulder. "Don't worry; they're the least of your worries. I have the attraction to them because of my own powers, which sometimes border on dark, because of the risks I am sometimes required to take."

"Such as now." Wells stated.

"Such as now." Harry sighed. He surveyed the nearest of the huge stones and whistled. "It must have taken a thousand men to move that." He smirked. "Or one helluva fine sorcerer."

Jules chuckled. "Or one fine vessel like ours."

Harry looked at him. "You know something you're not talking about?"

Jules spread his arms in a gesture of innocence. "Moi? Never!"

He and Wells exchanged glances. They always did that when they had history they didn't want to explain. Harry had become quite close to them, but those two had traveled far and wide, and he knew also in time, and they hardly ever talked about those adventures, as if they were a dark book of evil they dared not open.

"Look at this!" Jules cried out. He pointed to what appeared to be a seam in the side of the nearest stone.

They ran to it and began probing it with their fingers. The moment Harry touched it; he recoiled as if having received an electric shock.

Jules and Wells looked at him in surprise, and then grasped his arms when he looked ready to collapse.

"It's some kind of portal." Harry gasped, his lungs trying desperately to draw air into them after the shock which had blasted them free of air.

He finally got enough air back, and steadied on his feet, his companions still holding onto his arms to support him.

"Thank you, I'm all right now."

"What happened, Harry?" Wells asked, his eyes steeped with sympathy for his friend.

"It's a curse on the portal. Obviously quite old, or my body would have exploded, instead of just my air being forced from my lungs."

Harry took out a well chiseled wand from the breast pocket of his suit jacket, and then touched the edges of the seam again, muttering ancient mystical words as he did so. The wand touched the seam and where it first touched a sparkle of light exploded into being, and then began to line the seam like fire lit to a fuse. Within moments the entire seam was lit up.

The men had to shield their eyes from the power of the light.

"What now?" Jules asked.

Harry grinned. "Why we enter the portal of course?"

Wells glared at Harry. "That sounds awfully dangerous!"

"It is." Harry admitted. "But isn't that why we joined the team with Sherlock, after all? To boldly go where no idiot has gone before."

He laughed at his stupid joke, then stepped into the framework of the glowing light and vanished.

Jules looked to Wells. "You sealed the Master?"

"Of course."

Jules stepped into the Portal and vanished as well.

Wells looked back at the security and familiarity of the Master of the World, then at the Portal. "In for a penny..." He sighed, and then also stepped through the Portal.

***

Doctor Watson unstoppered a vial he kept in his black bag, which never left his side. The vial had skull and crossbones on it. He raised it to James' lips. Lord Graystone grasped his hand, stopping him from tilting it into James' mouth.

"Poison?"

Watson gave Lord Graystone a stern look. "I do not advise you how to fling through trees, do you then assume to tell me how to doctor?"

Lord Graystone let go, humbled. "My apologies, Watson. I should have realized you would never poison a friend."

"Oh, but you're wrong, Grayson, I am going to do precisely that."

Before Lord Graystone could react, Watson titled the vial between James' lips.

Lord Graystone gave Watson a shocked look.

James began to thrash about violently.

Lord Graystone's face turned fierce-some as he looked at Watson again. "You're killing him!"

Watson shook his head. "Have you not heard the old wise saying of sometimes it takes a thorn to remove a thorn? In this case...poison. So shut up and let James get well!" He ordered sternly.

Lord Graystone fell back, stunned, never having been spoken to by Watson like that before. He started to move forward again, when James suddenly stopped thrashing. His face relaxed and the lines in his forehead began to smooth out, and then the pale color in his face began to turn pink as was its usual wont.

Watson raised his stethoscope and placed it to James' chest. He glanced over at Lord Graystone, who still was glaring at him like a lion about to pounce. "His heart is now beating at a normal rate." He felt his pulse, and then smiled further. "I'd say my job is done here." He rose and headed for the door.

"Watson, wherever are you going?" Sherlock inquired.

"Deduce it!" Watson told him with a grin, and then exited.

Lady Shareen barked with laughter at the surprised look on Sherlock's face. "It seems our mild mannered Doctor has turned into a savage beast, gentlemen."

"I must save her!" James hollered, sitting up on his hospital bed, his eyes gazing off into the unknown.

***

Challenger and Conan met Captain Nemo at the docks as he disembarked from the Nautilus. He was wearing all white, which contrasted his darker skin. His bright eyes locked on theirs as he reached the base of the ramp joining his giant submarine.

"It's so good to see you again, gentlemen, but where's Harry?"

"Off to the Scots, investigating a lead there." Challenger explained.

"I trust it will be safe for him."

"He's with Jules and Wells." Conan said.

"I see. Then perhaps I will only worry for him half as much." Captain Nemo said with a handsome smile.

"Now. What is the urgency which has drawn me back to you so quickly?"

Conan and Challenger explained what had happened to James.

Captain Nemo's face darkened. "He is a good lad. He deserves better and you say the intent was not to harm him, but the Lady Shareen?"

"Oh no, it was to hurt him, he just turned out to be a bonus for the assassin." Challenger explained further.

Captain Nemo's eyebrows knit together. "How can I help?"

Conan pulled a long tube that he had slung over his right shoulder, and unmindful of the dirty, grimy dock he laid his knees upon; he spread the contents of the tube out, revealing a blue print. "Few know this, but I did because of my research for a Sherlock Holmes novel I never completed...The Tunnels of Despair."

"But deep beneath London there is an underground river leading from the Thames." He pointed to an approximation of where they stood with the Nautilus, and then drew his finger along a line he had traced on the map. This line...the underground river...follows to the opposite side of London, where it drops off into a vast cavern of some kind that I expect Jules Verne might have a better idea about. But we need not risk that far. We need only to go thus far." He said punching a point on the map.

Captain Nemo dropped to a knee and examined the point. "I know that place. Isn't that where the Noddington is built? The old Druid Mansion?"

"Exactly!" Challenger and Conan said at the same time.

***

James was in tears as he held Lady Shareen's hands in his large ones that engulfed them like elephant's feet might a monkey's paws. "I thought you were dead for sure."

She smiled at him, took her hands free, then leaned forward and brushed her lips to his forehead. "How could I be dead with such valiant friends as you around?"

Lord Graystone, Grayson, as he preferred being called by his friends, nodded. "Again, we owe you for your kindness towards us."

"I suspect, it's much more the other way around." James said with a dead pan face, and then grinned. "But I accept anyway."

They all broke into laughter.

Watson came back into the room, holding a huge silver tray with a huge mound of sweet cakes on it, and a pot of steaming tea and cups.

"Anyone ready for a spot of tea?"

Sherlock helped Watson distribute the food and tea, and then sat next to him on the opposite side of James bed, with Watson watching James with the eyes of a hawk. James noticed and smiled at him. "Fear not, Watson. Poisoning me was the best thing you could do, and I would have done the same for you as well."

"And no doubt deprived Mrs. Hudson of her fiancée." Watson responded with a straight face.

Everyone broke into laughter again.

When it became quieter again, Sherlock rapped lightly on the tray Watson had set near him on a nightstand. Everyone looked at him. He held the silence a long pause, then spoke. "I think it has become abundantly clear that this cult of Druids has no intention of letting up, nor of stooping as low as possible to achieve their goals."

"You mean the Count!" Watson blurted out, spitting some cake out as he spoke.

Sherlock gave him a tolerant look, and then continued. "Yes. The Count. Watson and I encountered him once before some time back and that did not turn out as either of us expected. At that time we didn't know who he was."

"And you do now?" Lord Graystone asked, his right hand clutching Lady Shareen's left hand tightly.

"The Grandmaster!" Sherlock said.

"Oh God help us!" Lady Shareen gasped.

"Oh, he most certainly has." James quipped, raising his tea cup in a mock toast. "For had he not, I would most assuredly be dead at this point."

That sobered everyone up, even the joke that Watson had on the tip of his tongue, fell to ashes before him. He rose. "Then I must tell you more."

They all looked to him.

"Even as we sit here, safe in this hospital, three of our dearest friends, are now risking their lives to put an end to this crisis."

"Can it be ended so easily?" James asked, already knowing the answer.

Watson looked to James. "You yourself have told us about the man you suspected entering the Noddington, and we know that the Count frequents the place on a daily basis." He nodded to Sherlock, who nodded back.

"Therefore, we must assume that the enemy has been hiding in plain sight."

"And now?" Lady Shareen asked, her eyes narrowed in consideration of what was being revealed.

"And now we must prepare to strike the first blow!" Sherlock said, rising.

James fumbled with his bed clothes, raising his feet to place on the floor.

He looked to James. "I'm sorry, James, but the doctor has ordered you to remain in bed for the next twenty-four hours."

James froze a moment. "Not going to happen."

Then he gave a startled glance to Watson, who had wandered to the other side of the bed next to him when his attention was on Sherlock. He looked down and saw the tip of a needle withdrawing from his arm.

"Sorry, James, but Doctor's orders!" Watson said with a solemn grin.

And as Watson's image faded away to James, and he slid back down on his bed into unconsciousness, the others gathered closer to make plans, as if the very walls might be listening.

"The Case of the Tormented Lip has now been solved, thanks to James." Sherlock lectured. "But now we must solve the Puzzle of the Dark Druids."

"What does that mean?" Lord Graystone asked, fearing what he might hear next.

Sherlock looked to Lord Graystone. "This part of the puzzle you are going to play a big part in. I only hope you won't mind if you have a few brave companions to share your journey?"

Lord Graystone rose to his towering height and was about to pound his chest and let out his bull dragon roar, then smiled, restrained himself and smoothed out his shirt and jacket. "When can we start?"

"Why...at once, old man. At once!" Sherlock replied, to his feet as well.

"Houses of shadow
Houses of light.
Fiends and foes
Spend in delight.

Taking their tolls
Taking their lives.
Frivolous and empty
And filled with pride." --- From the Odes of a Drunken Sailor.

***

Now the story begins.

The Shading loomed angrily over the lake, its foreboding rocky face pockmarked with boils and punctures of living rock that exuded hot fleshy smells. What dared to challenge its sanctity and solace as it made its plans for domination of the world above?

It slithered about the top of the Black Tower, the dawning sun of the jungle landscape becoming molten with the lava gold of the sun's rays. It hissed angrily and retreated into the narrow cavity that was its watch place atop the Black Tower. It flowed like liquid molten rock down a long and narrow passageway, its body, free of bone, adjusting to every shape and turn of its passage until it poured into a large chamber filled with glowing rocks and a presence.

It rose in its powerful glory, its magnificent godhood and faced the frail creature that dared to challenge its sanctity.

"You dare to invade my home!"

The tall man who stood at its clawed feet looked up and took off his top hat. He polished its rim on his right arm, taking his good old time to reply, causing the Shading to grow more and more restless and angry, but something about this man tempted it to restrain its usual violence.

Finally, the man went to a nearby boulder, sat down, crossed his left leg over the right, then pulled out a cigar and lit it.

Still the Shading held back from the growing flame of hatred and anger burning in its guts and heart now.

The man took several puffs, knocked the ashes off, stomped them with a booted foot, and then looked up. "My name is Moriarity. I have a deal I'd like to make."

The Shading spit fire as it spoke.

Moriarity didn't flinch or move as the fires burst to nothing but feet from his face.

"I make no deals!"

Moriarity held his cigar up and relit it from the next burst of flames from the Shading.

He smiled, took a puff, and then nodded. "I realize that."

"Then you must also realize that you will die."

"Oh, that happens to the best of us." Moriarity agreed.

"And you are not the best."

"No, I am not the best." Moriarity said, rising slowly to his full height.  A long pause. "I am merely the greatest!"

***

It took him a few moments for his eyes to adjust. The mists were remaining very thick and kept filling his vision with moisture he had to wipe away, which made his drop into the chasm more dangerous and fraught with chance. Something he didn't fear, but something he didn't prefer when time was of the essence.

Grayson felt the end of the makeshift rope approaching and swung a bit to the right, snagging a foot against the drop's sidewall. It was a less than safe move, but one he had bet on. He had seen the veins of stone as they warped downwards and noticed how their striations moved upwards and downwards. There were no obvious disruptions in the wall, which was as he remembered it from his childhood.

He grasped the slick surface of the wall as he made his way down. Clinging to the almost perfect wall with toes and fingers with grips like iron claws. And well he did too, for it didn't let up for a long time. He still remembered the exhaustion and tension in his younger muscles as he made it to the bottom at last, trembling and shaking from one part of his body to the other. He had been tried by the walls of the Hidden Realms and found triumphant.

He started to cup his hands for his bull dragon roar, and then realized that might not be the safe thing to do. Not because he was scared of what he might face, but rather what he saw.

Grayson felt a touch of roughness on his toes and knew he was close to the bottom. He had enough rope left to swing out and let go without fear of a precipitous drop. He landed lightly on the balls of his feet and arched over, grabbing for his knife while at the same time securing his rope against the cliff with soil he wet from the canteen he had allowed to be strapped to his loin cloth. He waited a moment for it to harden enough, then pressed the soil and rope firmly together against the grainy surface of the wall and it stuck.

Satisfied, he took a better look at the world he had lowered himself into.

He had almost cried out as he dropped his hands to his loincloth for his knife. For facing him was the strangest and most frightening spectacle he had ever laid eyes upon and he had seen much for his short years of life. A very strange escarpment of stone of a black nature with colored, jewel like blasts of stone in silvered water stood before him.

He had landed on the shore of a lake. A foreboding lake, devoid of any obvious life and lit by stars that should not have been there.

Grayson nodded to himself in satisfaction as he surveyed the scene of his youthful follies. The escarpment was the same, the glowing rocks, but something else was different now. More sullen and menacing. It was as if the very ground and water about him had been transformed into something malignant and dark.

He put the knife in his hand to his side as he walked. He had no reason to harm while he was here. Yet! But being prepared was his nature and he still remembered.

The creature was something out of a dragon's nightmare. It was swift and four footed, but not a leopard or lion, nor a bear or wolf, but something worse. It had the head and face of a human, but it ran on all fours, legs and feet that ended in hands, and a body armored like that of a turtle. It had emerged from the lake like a behemoth of lore, growing larger and larger, and then erupted in a burst of frenzy and leap to the shore to attack him.

He had nowhere to retreat to with the gigantic wall of the chasm behind him. To the sides was no retreat because of huge rocks that leaned outwards grasping at him. Though they gave him an idea. He had no more time for ideas for the huge creature was almost within a leap of him. Death's face was ugly and human. Something he would never forget if he lived that long.

Grayson didn't dare to put his foot in the water. Something about it alarmed him, though he couldn't physically give a reason just yet. He nudged a small rock into it. The rock began to sizzle as if it had been placed into a vat of acid.

His eyebrows rose in alarm.

He must reach the entrance and the only path lay over the stones and the acid lake now. He eyed the distant entrance, barely visible in the perpetual night and stars of this realm. He remembered how surprised he had been to find himself in yet another world, even though his own stood to his back when he had dropped into the hidden realms. But of course, that was after he had time to actually take all that in.

Grayson smiled. Mother Dragon had called it his shief face. A tender term for a face that was fearsome and angry. Something he had a lot of in those days. His parents were ruthless in their desire to harden him, putting him to tests most humans would never have survived, but for some reason he did, and each time he survived his parents would find yet another and harder one.

Grayson gave the giant creature his shief face and waited for it to leap. It did. It wouldn't fail to disappoint him, but he would disappoint it more than once. As the creature leaped and descended in a massive arc to slash him with its hands which were armed with deadly claws, he leaped to his left with all his strength. His youthful muscles had been built and nurtured for years with toil and labor, hardening them and creating them into iron engines of strength. The potions his parents fed him from the Dragon Springs had hardened them further, developed them far beyond those of a mortal man. Some had even intimated that they had conferred immortality upon him, but he ignored that. He was too young to think of such lofty concepts.

The creature struck the wall he had been standing in front of, stunning it. He hung from one of the arches of rock to the left. One had grasped the rock like a talon of iron and the other held his trustworthy knife. One he had made himself from star rock. Flaming metal from the heavens that the dragons horded in their vast chambers of gold, silver and jewels.

He swung outwards and released himself. He landed on the neck of the creature, who alerted to the fact that he was still reachable, swung a hand up to grasp, him, but poorly as it was still stunned from the blow on its head. He wasn't. He slashed the hand, sending the creature into a paroxysm of pain and anger.

It tried to stand up.

He had smiled then and leaped to its shoulders, the hardened carapace of them giving him a sure purchase. He had swung from its right ear and around, and slashed downwards as he did so, taking out first the right eye, and then the left. Even before the creature could smash him away with its massive hands, he had dropped downwards, slashing its tender belly, exposed to him now as he struck towards the ground.

Then he realized his mistake. He was trapped between it and the wall, with no way to reach the overarching rock anymore.

Grayson smiled at the memories, but they didn't solve his current quandary. How do you cross an acid lake on slippery rocks which might themselves now be traps? It was a puzzle of enormous consequences, but he was no longer a young boy or man. He was the Jungle Lord.

He cupped his hands to his mouth and let out a bull dragon roar!

The gigantic creature began falling towards him, with no apparent avenue of escape, and that's when he saw the opening in the face of the chasm. It was small, but more than enough for him to crawl into. He dove for it at the same time as the massive weight of the creature's body smashed the space he had just stood within.

It became pitch black in that small hole and it smelled horrible. That's when he realized he wasn't alone in there and that the cave was not as small as it had seemed.

He felt his heart beating in his throat as he pivoted awkwardly in that tiny space to see two huge eyes, glowing in the dark and watching him calmly.

Grayson grinned as he heard what he had hoped for. A scrambling of creatures along the chasm walls and within minutes he was surrounded by the Monkey Men of the Hidden Realms. Korath, his long time friend of the golden hide and blue eyes, landed at his feet, uncoiled and stood erect, a smirky smile on his face.

"Once more into the chasm?"

"I honor your eyes, Korath!" He spoke the ritual words of greeting to the King of these realms.

Korath's eyes lit up brighter and he grabbed Grayson by the shoulders, and then shook him violently in joy. Grayson waited until Korath had finished, then he lifted his friend into the air and shook him mightily.

The Monkey Men watching all broke into chattering, applause and laughter.

"I mean you no harm." Grayson had spoken, even as he kept his blade at the ready.

"All men mean me harm."

Grayson shook his head. "I am not a man. I am a Dragon's Son."

"How can that be? You have the pale skin of a man, the height of one, and the muscles of one."

"I have just killed he mighty creature of the lake."

A long pause. The eyes moved closer and then a mouth opened up, revealing very sharp teeth.

The Monkey Men sat down in a circle around Grayson and Korath, who remained standing, their smiles of joy still lighting their faces.

"It's been many lapses of fog since you left."

"It has been many suns in my own realm."

"Someday I would like to journey there."

Grayson sat down.

Korath sat down. "I would like to have a friend there to see it with."

"You have that friend." His eyes moistened. "Always."

Korath's own eyes wet slightly and he struck at the moisture as if they were a sign of weakness. "This sentimentality is weakening my heart."

Grayson laughed. "Only a foolish man would ever think you had a heart, Korath!"

The Monkey Men all broke into applause.

Korath jumped up and did a savage dance to their clapping for many minutes, exalting in the freedom of his movement and the sound of the claps, and then he dropped back down in front of Grayson, who had been watching the dance, his lips lit with enjoyment.

"You are come, but why?"

Grayson told him.

As he did so, Korath's smile of delight turned to one of dark anger.

"Then if you are not a man, you do not need a man's toys."

Grayson had put his knife down and spread his hands wide. "I am that which I speak."

"As I am. And do you speak for all like you?"

Grayson knew in that instant that his life hung in the balance. He shook his head. "I speak for no one but myself, as I am not a man like the others, but a Dragon's son."

That was when Korath had struck a flint to a torch stick in his hands and lit it to reveal his face and form. Grayson was stunned. Legends of the Monkey People had filtered to the surface and were part of the driving force to get him to venture to such a dangerous place. "You are a Monkey Man!"

Korath smiled."You say that in awe."

"I am...in awe. I have wanted to meet you for all my life."

"You are too young to have had all any life."

Grayson had jumped to his feet. Mistake. "I am not..." He had cried as he leaped.

The next thing he remembered was lying out on the shore of the lake once more and a huge fire was burning, in the middle of which was the turtle creature. Korath was watching as his people stripped meat from the carcass and set them to warming over a large fire on bone sticks. He had sensed Grayson awake and had turned. He grabbed a stick of meat and smiling came to sit beside the young man. "Eat!"

Grayson had shied at first. The creature had been almost human!

Korath's eyes narrowed. Danger signals yet again.

Grayson swallowed what pride he had at that moment and in the years that followed, he would follow that path many more times, and in the process learn that evil was not always in what one did, but what one did not do as well. "You are a kind host." He told Korath, took the meat and tore hungrily into it.

***

Challenger, Conan and Harry ran for their lives, casting away anything heavy they had been carrying to lighten their load and strengthen their limbs. Behind them the cavern was collapsing as something so large it had no right to be there began pushing itself free of its entrapment.

The trio reached their boat and as one began shoving it into the water, further and further out, until they were waist high in the crashing surf, then clambered aboard. They unshipped their oars and began frantically oaring for the safety of the wide open sea.

Conan, who was at the stern and facing back, became alarmed. "The water's not stopping it!"

Harry and Challenger both dared a peek.

Behind them was a mountain of flesh, thickly hided with an ebony rock like pelt that was throned with huge horns that ran around a carapace of a head with deep eye sockets and flaming eyes that sought them with hatred as ancient as life itself.

"What in God's name is that thing? Conan demanded.

Challenger didn't answer the question. "Row, Conan, row as if your life depended on it!"

"But it does!" Conan protested as he heaved on his own oar.

"Yes, you idiot, exactly!" Challenger roared back.

On the shore the mighty beast they had awakened began striding deeper into the water, the surf barely coming to the top of its feet.

"I've got a bad feeling about this." Conan puffed between breaths.

***

Nemo blasted the creature with his electric pistol. The creature responded by tearing a piece of Atlantean structure from its side and then hurling it powerfully through the water, despite its density.

Ned and Nemo ran to the right. The structure smashed into where they had stood and plowed several yards of seascape into the air. When the dust was settling fro it, they had safely ensconced themselves behind a pillar fronting one of the ancient buildings.

The giant creature looked about, but not spotting them, instead it focused on the Nautilus. It marched towards the Nautilus, its intent obvious, as it ripped another section of building free to smash the might vessel with.

"No!" Nemo cried out, but no one could hear him. The ship communications didn't reach the suits.

Before the creature could smash the vessel it lit up more brightly and began ascending, blasts of air streaming from its sides as it did so.

"Not good." Ned commented drily.

Nemo looked at him and even through the murky sea waters and the weak light of the helmets he could see Nemo frown before he spoke. "You think?"

***

Sherlock adjusted the newspaper in his lap and sipped at a cup of tea while warming him by the fireplace. Watson paced the floor with a scone clutched in his right hand. He waved it as he spoke, his eyes flashing with anger.

"I shan't tolerate this happening. I shan't!"

Sherlock continued reading.

"It's intolerable. Hateful." Finally, Watson stopped and looked at Sherlock. "Howsoever in the world shall we survive a month without Mrs. Hudson?"

Sherlock looked up. "Really, Watson? You could do with a touch of reduction about the waist, don't you think?"

Watson threw his hands up in the air, accidentally losing his scone in the process. "I give up. Oh no!" He cried out, and frantically grasped for the scone before it could strike the floor. He caught it, then with the look of a child let loose in a candy store, sat down and began to eat.

Mrs. Hudson came up the stairs with a fresh tray of scones. "Now, dear John, I have made and left enough in the kitchen larder to last you for a good three weeks if you stretch them out."

Watson jumped up, wiping at his mouth with a hanky as he rushed to her to help her with the tray. He set it down then gave her a hug. She took it tolerantly; giving Sherlock's amused face a roll of her eyes, as if to say, "Men, such shallow creature!"

He nodded, reading her thoughts exactly. She giggled and broke free of Watson's grasp. "Now I must hurry up and finish my packing, dear."

She gave Watson a peck on the cheek and went to her room to prepare.

Sherlock watched Watson look after her, his joyful look fading once more. "I shall die if I never see her again."

"Watson! Do be a bit more positive, will you!"

Watson glared at Sherlock. "I am being positive. I will die!"

Then a banging on the front door sounded.

Mrs. Hudson stuck her head from her room. "Be a dear, John, and answer that, will you?"

***

Watson flung the front door open, almost knocking Inspector Bloodstone from his feet as he was still grasping its handle.

Constable Evans caught his father and prevented him from falling.

"Yes!" Watson demanded, angry that his last minutes with his beloved were in danger once more of an interruption.

"You and Sherlock must come at once!"

"What can be so dratted important that it can't wait until after my fiancée leaves for the air terminals?"

"The Queen is dead! Long live the Queen!"

Watson's face became as pale as a ghost. He crossed himself!

"Loathsome charts and hidden seas
Meander along the shores.
Where dark, hoary beasts
And gruesome feasts wait to explore.

Neither man nor gods
Fairy or faint
Shall remove the touch
Once they are taint.

For spells and chants
Magic and lore.
Will not harm those
We should not harbor."

--From the Odes of a Drunken Sailor--

***

"Hang on!" Wells hollered.

Jules grabbed hold of his arm rests as the Master of the World shuddered from the blast of an arctic wind off the coast they were exploring so high up.

The ship, mighty as it was, still was subject to the laws of gravity and physics, and when flying like one of the Queen's blimps, it had to be careful of stray air currents, even as they because of its elliptical shape which when caught broadside could upend them if they weren't careful.

Once the ship was stabilized again, Jules let out the air he had been holding onto. They had recently repaired the ship and he feared they might have missed something. He was a perfectionist w when it came to that.

Jules reestablished control of the vessel once more and quipped to his friend. "Mon Ami, why do you fret over such naughty little breezes?"

"It's easy for you to say, Jules." Wells told his best friend as they scouted the seas near the Scots. The Queen had chosen them for the mission because they and Nemo were the only ones who could ply air and sea with impunity. They with their golden Master of the World that could travel through time and space, and Nemo with the Nautilus, that mighty undersea vehicle that could plow through any murky depth of the seas and oceans without a pause.

Jules smoothed his blondish hair, affecting a nervous poise, which he was not at all, but rather this was a gesture he revealed when his mind was exploring new avenues of thought, which was often, much to his wife's dismay and Wells at times. His blue eyes pierced those of Wells, somehow able to look into a man's soul without violating it.

"Yes. But we have to face the facts." Jules went on, ignoring Wells comment, and getting back to the point of their being in the air over Scots at this time. "The Queen's Black Tower office was invaded by something that should not have been able to...corporeal or not. Something climbed the walls and got in. Only through the fast thinking of our good friend, Sherlock, was the creature repelled. And we have to ask ourselves for how long then?"

Wells looked away from his navigation console at Jules. He shook his dark wavy locks of hair, his puppy dog brown eyes marveling at the sensitivity of his friend yet again as he pondered his words. He had to be careful how he sat on his navigation chair, as it was a tad too small for his much larger frame. In contrast Jules had a taller frame, but was more thinly and delicately carved, like a fine Botticelli painting. "You're serious. You really think it will come back after it was hurt so badly?"

Jules turned on his chair to face Wells square on. "And you do not?"

Wells looked into his friends face and his blue eyes of such clarity and sighed. "Ever since we have come to this dark land it is been nothing but trouble for us. Perhaps we would do better to return..."

Jules held up a hand. "You know we can't do that!"

Wells was about to protest that, when Jules shook his head. "Non, Mon Ami, impossible. That land..."

Jules had to wait a moment for his eyes and throat to clear. The emotions welling up were almost insurmountable. "We cannot. We must not. We shall not!"

As if that settled everything, he returned to his piloting, which fortunately for both of them required little effort as with the help of their friends Einstein and Tesla, they had engineered a method of auto piloting the ship during those times they need to consort to other things such as sleep, or this time...of discussion...or argument as it sometimes tended. For though both men were friends in every way possible, they were also both of equivalent intellect and emotional depths. Neither gave up once they put a foot on a foreign shore of thought and tended it to its logical end, and thus the arguments, as both men usually were right, but not until after their arguments did they realize that and once more bonded with that warm solemnity that only such good souls as they could.

Wells gave up. This was a war he could not win. They could travel through time and space, change the course of history. Which they had done before more than once to no end of trouble, but sometimes one had to master one's tendency to interfere, and this was such a time he suspected, so he held off in his argument for a less warlike time on this godforsaken planet.

"Mon ami, I see the wheels turning and it alarms me. I fear a storm in the future."

Wells smiled at his friend. "It is not the future we should fear, but the past."

Jules nodded and looked again at his console. "Taking off auto pilot."

He released it and took over controls of the Master of the World, setting it on a slowly spiraling orbit about the Scots, searching for the needle in the haystack the Queen suspected.

***

Sherlock sat in Hyde Park on a bench free of snow, since he had scraped it off earlier with several brushes of his gloved hands. A single sparrow sat on the branches of a tree opposite him and let out solitary tweets, sounding like a lost traveler mourning for its mate. He smiled. Lost. That's what he had been for a long time after...

He shook his head, frightening the poor bird, who shot from its branch into the air, fluttered about the tree several times as if loathe to leave it, then darted like an arrow towards the distant Black Tower, which had been the source of Sherlock's current seclusion. He hadn't let anyone, not even Watson; know the extent of what he had perceived. Never one to reveal his innermost thoughts in any case, this was especially important.

What he hadn't revealed was that the Shadow had indeed left tracks. Just not the kind that an ordinary detective might have acknowledged. The attack outside Baker Street had been made not by an incorporeal creature, but by one with a charmed nature. A human hiding in an incorporeal form. He had first recognized it when he had spoken with his good friend, Professor Langston, at his home after he and Watson had separated outside the Black Tower. Watson to make sure Mrs. Hudson was safe, and he to the Professor, whom he knew slept little these days. Another side effect of the invisibility formula which had changed his genetic makeup.

"Sherlock, the problem with being invisible as I know it." Professor Langston had told him, his weary face lined with wrinkles that made him appear aged long beyond his years. "The problem is that even though your corporeal presence is masked, clouded to other's vision, you physical self still imprints the world."

"Footprints and fingerprints to name a few ways." Sherlock commented.

"Exactly!"

"That being the case." Sherlock added. "If one can mask the physical presence to the point of invisibility, wouldn't it also be possible to mask the physical imprints as well? Assuming of course that one's science allowed that."

"Entirely possible. Our friend, Al...Here he is talking about Einstein.)...has long conjectured that the only difference between matter and energy is our perception of it."

"Then that would make it theoretically possible to become invisible on all levels?"

"Exactly, but..."

Sherlock steeples his hands together. He already knew where this was leading, but wanted to reaffirm it with a scientist whose opinion he trusted. "But...there would still be the imprint of the very chemicals or power sources that catalyzed and created the invisibility."

"Precisely!"

Sherlock rose to go to the laboratory counter that Professor Langston, the Invisible Man, stood against. "Then you had better have a look at this."

Sherlock laid a glove on the counter.

"A glove, surely you jest, Holmes?"

"Not in the least. My glove passed through the path the Shadow took. It also touched the remains of the body struck down. The poor constable, God rest his would, whose death was precipitated by the creature."

"I see where you're going with this. If there were any possibility whatsoever of coming to a conclusion as to the nature of the invisibility, then there should also be some kind of foreign imprint on the glove."

Sherlock didn't have to answer. He just raised an eyebrow in response.

Just as he raised his eyebrow at the way the sparrow had taken flight just then. He grew aware of something at that moment, something intangible. Something at the edge of his senses. He leaped to his feet and spun around, reaching for his weapon.

***

Inspector Bloodstone, Watson and Constable Evans went through the alley once more, searching for clues as to the Shadow's emergence, or precipitation from the darkened passageway. They swept Tesla lights back and forth, stopping to take samples of soil, rub swabs to walls and tube them, as well as to take photos with a very large camera that Constable Evans welded easily with his youth and vigor.

"There has to be some clue as to how it escaped. Drat it!" Watson cursed.

The Inspector stopped and eyed the Doctor. "Surely, you didn't think it would be that easy, did you?"

"No, and I am quite sure that Mrs. Hudson is going to thoroughly sink my ship once I return if all of this time was lost to nothing."

Constable Evans laughed. "Doctor, you're beginning to sound like a married man already and your marriage date isn't even set yet."

"It will be...and I do?"

Constable Evans smiled, but said no more.

"Ah-ha!" The Inspector yelled.

They ran to his position. He eyed a discarded doll with long red hair and blue eyes. "Some poor child, nearby, no doubt, has lost their bedtime companion."

Watson and Constable Evans both broke into a long and well needed laughter.

Before long the Inspector joined them. When they had all finished, Watson still holding his stomach which hurt from more than just the laughter. "Mrs. Hudson will be keeping the tea and coffee warm and a large batch of scones..."

The Inspector headed for the Police Wagon. "Say no more!"

Constable Evans followed him.

Watson stood there in shock. "I was only going to say that I should be going home to take some rest and nourishment."

"Hurry up, Doctor!" Inspector Evans cried from the back of the vehicle.

Doctor Watson shook his head, barely constraining his disappointment and anger. "Me and my big..."

***

"There!" Harry cried out, casting a new wave of magical dust before him, with Conan and Challenger hot on his heels. "This way!" He urged.

The three men made their way along the coastal region off the Scots. It was a remote beach, only accessible after Midnight when the tide was out. They had boated in and taken to the wet sands instantly with Harry in the lead.

"I hate this dampness." Conan complained.

"I hate nightmares!" Harry countered, shouting happily as a new set of footprints began to appear, leading towards a very hostile looking over reach of moss crusted rock that overhung the wet beach. Below the overhang was the opening to an underwater cave. Or at least it would be in about eight hours or less if they didn't hurry up.

"I think we've found our culprit!" Challenger boasted, rushing ahead of Harry who was about to cast more magic, then put the dust back in his pouch, restrung it on his belt loop, and then dashed after him, with Conan holding up the rear, huffing and puffing from the effort.

"Slow down!" Conan complained.

"Hurry up, tired, Old Man!" Challenger challenged.

"Who are you calling old?" Conan shot back angrily.

"Then catch up. It might be dangerous to be out here all alone at night."

Conan shot wary looks about him, but nothing was in sight for hundreds of yards, but then he looked back at the sea waters, and saw it glistening oddly. He didn't stop to ponder its meaning, but rushed to catch up. He reached the others as they swept beneath the overhang and into the large cave, which smelt damp and briny from all the salt water that usually filled it.

"Here, look at this!" Challenger pointed.

Ahead of them were stairs that rose from a bed of thick seal plant slicked rocks. They scampered carefully over the rocks, and then begin ascending towards another opening. One that appeared very well formed and manmade.

Conan lost his balance for a moment and almost lost his footing. Challenger caught him with a strong hand. "Friends never let friends down."

Conan took a deep breath of relief as he began ascending again, more slowly this time. By the time he reached the doorway, the others were inside. Standing stock still.

"What do you see?"

Then he saw it too. His face turned as pale as a ghost.

***

Sherlock returned to 221B a bit past midnight. He was still shaken from his experience earlier, but he had no intentions of sharing it with anybody just yet. Still, he was surprised to see all the lights on above. He opened the front door and ascended the stairs to the sound of excited voices. Some sounding angry. He entered the sitting room, where Watson was scowling at the Inspector who had his hand on the last scone.

"That one was to be mine!" Watson argued.

The Inspector gave the Doctor an amused look. "I see no name on it." He took a bite from it.

The Doctor rose angrily, and then froze when Sherlock put a hand on him.

"Where is Mrs. Hudson?"

"Coming." He heard a voice behind him and turned to see her entering with a new silver tray with fresh coffee, tea and scones.

Watson immediately rushed over to help, took a scone, shoved it into his mouth and helped to set up the new courses for everyone, still giving the Inspector an evil eye as he helped himself to three scones at once.

Constable Evans looked to Sherlock and shrugged his shoulders.

Sherlock gave him the hint of a smile.

"It would appear then that your absence brought only hunger and loss of sleep."

Watson sat down by the fire and poured some fresh coffee for himself. "Rather."

Then they heard a pounding on the front door.

Mrs. Hudson wiped at her eyes. "I'm beginning to think we should call this 221B cafe."

With those words she headed for the stairs. Sherlock looked to Watson, who gave him a weary look, but set down his uneaten scone and unsipped coffee and hurried after his fiancée.

"Things never get so back, that they can't get worse." He complained as he followed her.

The Inspector was in the midst of a fourth scone when the scream of Mrs. Hudson interrupted his swallow.

***

"There!" Captain Nemo called out as the Nautilus skimmed across an ocean bed that was miles below the Atlantic waves above. His piercing green eyes followed the finger he pointed, not for a moment phased by the utter insanity of what he and his crew were now viewing as it rose higher and higher before them from the dark, murky depths of the Atlantic and the swirling green mud that was stirred up there by some unknown currents that tore in and out of the massive structures he pointed at.

The pilot nodded and gave the Nautilus a slight nudge to the right, knowing by now how his Captain thought, besides being able to see the strange apparition coming into view just ahead of the Nautilus through the massive viewport that opened out to the sea ahead.

The crew all muttered softly among themselves as Nemo strode to the observation deck, mounting its several steps to stop before the massive window that looked out upon the depths.

"Atlantis!
In the hoary depths of the sea.
All your beauty is still plain to see,
Your once golden towers.
Filled with light and power
Your Eternal grace and glory not defused,
By all that time has thrown at you.
Atlantis!"

He said with a smile, quoting one of the old poems from the Ode of a Drunken Sailor that was so popular to him and other sea captains.

And it surely was something of Atlantis. Ahead of the craft were massive buildings that had withstood the test of time and salt, wave and corrosion. The buildings were not only large, but stately and intricately beautiful. Each building looked as if it had been carved out of a pure white crystal that caught all the lights cast from the Nautilus and hurled them back in sprinkles of rainbows that danced merrily along her prow.

"Some day we must invest energy in exploring her, yes, Captain?" Ned asked, coming behind the Captain quietly as was his nature. An ex-marine from her Majesty's service and an American French native, he stood about six feet tall, had sharp blue amethyst eyes and complexion women would kill to have, despite his exposure to seawater and rough weather for years now in the service of Nemo.

"Ned, what do you think?" Nemo asked, ignoring the other remark to get straight to the heart of the matter.

"I think that it would be a good idea to explore the city, Captain." Ned replied bluntly, refusing to dance with the Captain over the merits of this.

Nemo turned to face his friend and a man he trusted with his life. "Why?"

"Because the mystery we seek is in there. I can feel it with every fiber of my being." He ignored the frown on his friend's light brown face and smiled.

Nemo gave his friend a suspicious look.

Ned smiled more broadly, yet again revealing his overly generous nature, as well as good humor. He pointed at a set of mysterious looking tracks on the sandy bottom heading towards the city. "And I can see that."

The pilot sounded an alarm. "Captain! Forty degrees starboard and coming fast!"

Nemo screamed. "Evasive!"

The Nautilus' mighty engines roared to life.

They had barely turned the massive vessel when a huge device, with multiple fins of some kind of orange metallic origin and could have passed for two eyes, but that they were also mechanical and held lenses that glowed a deep red, along with an array of antenna about its face, passed through the space they had just occupied and then impacted into the sandy bottom.

An underwater explosion of massive proportions tossed the Nautilus about like a helpless cork in a storm!

Before the Pilot could stabilize the Nautilus, Nemo and Ned spotted a second alien device headed straight for them.

"There's no time to evade it!" The Pilot shouted.

Death was opening its jaws to consume them!

"Brace for impact!" Captain Nemo screamed!