The Iron Man [Serial]

The Descent

I felt strangely weighed down, so that I was not sure whether I felt like a proper explorer or more like a child in a faerie tale, with a bit of flat bread and an apple in my pockets, carrying a lamp, and having a sketchbook tucked inelegantly in the back of my trousers.

The view from below had been deceptive. As we climbed, the chevron-shaped stones became distinct from the entrance, which finally resolved as dark rectangular opening—well below the large stone rafters—barely the height of a man. David, ahead of me, confessed aloud much I had been thinking.

We both had the sense of being within a room, with a floor and high walls on three sides.

"This must have been a proper antechamber," David said. He pointed out the uneven masonry high along the surrounding walls. "It appears several more rafters are missing. They would have made a vaulted ceiling to support the weight of the stone above this chamber." He turned around, to face towards me. "And this side must have been enclosed by casing stones and inner walls. Meaning this is the entry to an internal passage, not the exterior entryway."

I turned, trying to imagine what had been there, but there was no sign; it was simply gone.

"Unless," David said behind me, "the floor was higher and this passage continued beneath the room."

I stepped forward, enough to look down to the base of the pyramid. I saw the camels hobbled together, but the rest of our party was no longer in sight.

I heard the pop of a flashbulb as David took a photograph.

"Julien, if you would stand over here for scale?"

I turned back towards the passage. David held one of those popular Dubroni self-developers. The Dhobitorium had kept an older model for recording pre-existing damage on togs. I walked across to the entryway.

"If you would, climb to that ledge above the passage."

I clambered up the limestone blocks, and waited as David inspected the last photo now rolling from the camera. He adjusted settings. There was no loud flash—or bright light—as with the earlier photo, but a low mechanical click and whir.

"Got it," he said.

I sat and slid from the stone foot-first to descend. Then, I peered into the darkness within the Great Pyramid. The sun was well above the horizon now and in the direction of the Nile, but this opening was shaded by the blocks beside it and received no direct light.

I felt within a jacket pocket for the matchbox Howard had given me with the lamp. I found it amongst the loose crayons and bit of bread. I set the lamp down to strike a match and light the floating wick. It wasn't quite like lamps I'd used as a child—electric lamps being more common in London by the time I move there—but the principle of there being reservoir, oil and wick was the same.

The lamp gave off a golden glow, softer at the sides where the light passed through oil and  translucent alabaster. I held it firmly in my right hand as I felt along the wall with my left. Both David and I had to stoop, or duck our heads to continue. The floor and the entirety of the passage sloped downward. I didn't use geometry much, except maybe in translating measurements to patterns or, lately, in art lessons, but I estimated the slope was less than 30 degrees.

"It's strange," David whispered, perhaps inspired to quiet by the close space, "an entrance on the north. Cathedrals are usually aligned to the east. The causeways and temples on the site are roughly east-west. Yet one has to move to the north side to enter."

"I never thought about it." My voice echoed from the stone walls, and I lowered it. "Do they do it to let light in the stained glass, do you mean?"