Chapter Text
Despite his words, Allan couldn't stop thinking about what the figure had said. Soulmates. With Tom Sawyer. It was clearly absurd, but Allan couldn't let the idea go. And, if Tom's reaction was anything to go by, he was more interested in the idea than a young man should be.
Allan couldn't wrap his head around what Tom could possibly see in him. Tom did not hero worship him so there was only an ill-tempered old man to see. Nothing to tempt a young man like Tom.
But what if he did see something? What if he did want something more? Did Allan have it in himself to try one last time? After all the losses he'd suffered?
Having Tom beside him made him consider the idea seriously, and Allan thought he might finally have lost it. Surely only a truly old fool would ever think that someone like Tom was meant to be with him.
Allan shook his head sharply, and forced himself to take his own advice. Something was rotten here. Maybe the ghostly figure was a trap, but Allan had encountered enough supernatural deceptions and defenses to know one that felt genuine. You couldn't fake the kind of emotions that accompanied the everywhere-voice. It wanted them to leave but there was no malice. Only sadness and concern.
That made Allan infinitely warier of the whole thing.
Walking at a fast clip, the two quickly made it down into the town. Initially, Allan thought the town was limited to the cavern wall. They could see it on their left, carved up and back almost to the ceiling of the gigantic cave.
But, as they continued on, they saw that there was a large island partially obscured by the crook of the cavern wall, and the town extended over bridges onto the island. It made the town much larger than Allan had first thought it to be -- an entire city underground.
Walking over a bridge, Allan and Tom looked around. The place was eerily empty. There was no breeze to create movement. Doors were tilted in doorways and the walls were stained with age. Decay was everywhere.
"How old do you suppose this place is?" Tom asked. The still atmosphere was probably getting to him. Allan had noted his tendency to ask questions when he was becoming unnerved. In this place, Allan didn't blame him at all.
"I don't think time is quantifiable here as it would be outside."
"Been abandoned awhile though?" Tom surmised, and Allan could guess his thoughts.
"I doubt anyone has ever lived here. This is no place for the living. I think the spirit meant that literally," Allan said.
"Really?" Tom sounded skeptical. "I mean, now it's no place for the living, but who else would make a whole city?"
"Look closely at it, Tom. Does this seem like a city people could really live in?"
Tom looked around, and Allan wondered if he was catching all the things Allan had noticed right away. There was no way up to the buildings carved into the cavern wall, which had obvious front-doors leading out to a steep drop. Even if a missing balcony had fallen off with the effects of age, there was nowhere else to access the houses.
And here on the island, there were more houses and some grand buildings that might have been temples. But there was no market. No fountains for water. No place to stable animals or to store goods.
Allan didn't know what exactly Tom saw but when Tom turned startled eyes to Allan, Allan could see he'd caught something of it. "This is a City of the Dead. Quite literally," Allan said.
Tom shivered and moved closer to Allan. "What could Clarke want here? What did he take?"
Allan gripped his gun tighter. "We'll soon find out."
They made their way to the other side of the eerily empty city and found a small dock with a boat attached to it. There was a smaller island not far away with a single building in the middle of it. Allan knew a tomb when he saw one.
"There's our destination." He didn't feel the relief he usually did when it looked like he had found his goal. Each step forward felt like a step towards his doom, and Allan did not care for that feeling at all.
They got into the small boat -- a slimy, wooden thing that should have molded away long ago -- and set sail for the small island. It was a short journey but not nearly quick enough for Allan. He looked down into the strangely colored water, and thought he saw movement.
He doubted that whatever lived in these waters was something he wanted to see closer.
When they reached their destination, Allan hesitated. "Perhaps one of us should wait with the boat."
"No way are you going into a creepy tomb at the edge of the City of the Dead with a possibly cursed item without me," Tom said immediately.
Allan wasn't surprised by his reaction, but he was uneasy. The boat was an easy bottleneck. Losing it would force them to swim in waters that could hold any number of dangerous secrets, and they couldn't possibly make it with all their gear -- gear they would need to get out of the mountain.
However, he understood Tom's need to be in the middle of things. That was how Allan had been back in the day, before he knew better. Selfishly, Allan had to admit he would feel better to have Tom where he could see him. This was no place to be separated.
Allan nodded, and Tom relaxed. Together, they walked up the short path to the tomb's entrance. Evidence of Clarke's previous expedition was apparent in the tool marks and traces of char on the door where Clarke and his brother-in-law had clearly forced their way in.
There was even more evidence inside. Gingerly slipping past the large broken doors, Allan saw that the tomb was extremely simple. It was a decently sized room with a series of steps leading down from all directions to a sarcophagus right in the center of things. There were no statues or bright gold like Allan had seen in other tombs. Only the same symbols from the gates painted in what looked like tar, save a bright red symbol on the top of the coffin itself.
Drawing close to it, Allan was surprised at the sheer scale of the sarcophagus. It was solid stone, and at least twice the size of a man in length. Allan and Tom together would not have been able to lift the massive lid, but Clarke had clearly been prepared for this. The cover was cracked at one end, and the whole thing had been nudged over to an angle that left one corner accessible.
Allan couldn't see what was inside. The mushroom-glow emanating through the doors wasn't bright enough to fully chase away the shadows.
"We're going to need more light," Allan said.
"On it." Tom jumped into action, pulling out Nemo's wand-light and revving it up. While he worked on that, Allan took out the box that had started this whole thing.
He hesitated to open it -- afraid of what he might unleash by doing so -- but he shook the feeling away. The box was not magical in any way. It offered no protection, and whatever they had to fear here must already know of its presence.
Carefully, Allan undid the clasps and popped open the lid. Inside, on a bed of newspaper strips, was what appeared to be an iron crown. It was crudely made, the edges sloppy and uneven. A series of spikes grew up from the circlet, one larger than the others. Below this was a clear crystal, which appeared dull and of no value.
What could Clarke have possibly wanted with this?
"A crown?" Tom sounded like he shared Allan's bewilderment. "Is there a market for that?"
"Maybe as an antique but iron and crystals aren't valuable in themselves. It would need a great carnival hawker to sell it, that's for sure," Allan said.
"It's cursed, though, right? Maybe it has special powers?"
"All the better to get rid of it," Allan said decisively. "Give me the light."
Tom handed over the wand-light and took the box after Allan had the crown in hand. The sarcophagus was quite deep so that just having the wand-light on did not illuminate its depths.
Allan had seen many things in his life, but when he brought the wand-light close enough to see clearly, what he saw in the depths of the coffin made him jump back and drop what he was holding.
"Allan!" Tom leapt forward, looking concerned. "What happened?"
Allan shook his head at himself, trying to get his heartbeat back under control. "Just startled. It's fine."
"What it it?" Tom asked, relaxing slightly and turning curious eyes toward the coffin. When he took a step in that direction, Allan immediately stepped in front of him.
"There's nothing in there that you need to see."
Predictably, Tom scowled and said, "I can handle it. You don't need to protect me."
Something about the churlish way he said it made Allan's heart melt. He remembered the feeling so well.
Shaking his head slightly, he forced himself to relax and not look so confrontational. "I don't need to protect you," he agreed easily, moving closer. Gently, he reached out to cup Tom's cheek, which turned the scowl into a confused frown. "I get to protect you."
Allan gazed into Tom's eyes, and he could completely believe in this moment that they were soulmates. He could feel the draw, could feel how dear Tom was to him. Allan hadn't realized how much Tom had come to mean to him. He knew that he valued Tom as a friend and had taken the younger man under his wing to teach him all the life-lessons Allan had learned the hard way.
Now, he realized it was so much more than he'd let himself believe. For once, he didn't think about how much losing Tom would hurt. Rather, he thought about how worthwhile it would be to live with Tom.
It was a radical shift in Allan, but he didn't give any thought to that. All that mattered in this moment was Tom.
There was a whirl of emotions reflected in Tom's eyes, and Allan wondered if he could see something of Allan's thoughts. Softly, Allan said, "Give this to me. Please."
The confused expression remained as Tom searched Allan's gaze as Allan did his. Allan waited, not particularly wanting to leave Tom's side.
After a long moment, Tom closed his eyes and leaned into Allan's hand -- surrendered to his touch.
When he opened his eyes again, his expression was filled with uncertainty and trepidation. But there was trust there too. Trust and hope as Tom nodded mutely.
Allan could kiss him for his bravery. He almost did.
It was too much for him to deal with right now, and he drew away. Tom wrapped his arms around himself but kept his distance as he watched Allan pick up the dropped crown and wand-light.
Again approaching the tomb and mindful of Tom's eyes upon him, Allan braced himself to look within. Part of the initial scare had been surprise. He had a sense of what he'd find this time, but the ghoulish face looking up at him didn't look any better on closer inspection.
Not wanting to look too hard, Allan quickly dropped the crown into the tomb and then backed up.
"We should go."
Tom looked curiously at the sarcophagus but only hesitated for a moment before nodding. Allan handed the wand-light back to him, hoping to distract him from the coffin.
"Is that it then?" Tom said. He turned the light off but kept it at hand.
"Trust me, we don't want anything more to happen."
Allan ushered Tom outside. Even though they were still underground and there was a definite feeling of strangeness hanging in the atmosphere, it still felt better to breath the air away from the tomb. Tom seemed to react similarly, as if shaking away a dream.
"Ideally, we should try to make it back to the stairwell before we take another break," Allan said as they approached the boat and hopped inside.
Tom made a face. "I don't look forward to going up all those stairs. We're going to have to rest at some point."
Restlessly scanning everything around him, Allan said, "There comes a time in an expedition where you have to push yourself -- where you have to forgo the comforts of food and rest if you want to survive the day. If you accept anything from my experience, accept this: now is that time."
Taking a cue from Allan, Tom began glancing around too, although he seemed a bit confused. "I'm not arguing that you're right. I'm just not sure I can climb all those stairs without my legs falling off."
Allan let out a bark of laughter. "You're decades younger than I am. If I can do it, you can do it."
"You're not a good measure, you know," Tom grumbled. "The legend of 'Allan bloody Quatermain' didn't come out of nowhere."
His answer amused Allan. If they had still been in the tunnels above or on the mountain outside, he would've taken a moment to tease Tom.
But there was an itchy feeling between his shoulder blades that had always meant danger. Something was wrong here, and Allan knew they absolutely did not have the luxury to waste time.
As soon as they docked, Allan jumped out of the boat and offered a hand to Tom. He hauled Tom out of the boat and forward a few steps before letting go, quietly urging him to be quick.
His urgency was clearly catching as Tom kept stride with him as they rushed through the city. It was so quiet though, and it felt wrong to Allan to break out in a run. Nothing had happened so far, and there was a part of Allan's pride that grumbled at the idea of running from shadows and ghosts. That kept him from sprinting forward despite the sense in his head telling him to do just that -- to grab Tom's hand and run like the hounds of hell were on his heels.
At the center of the city was a town square. It was empty of pavilion, merchant stalls, cafes, or anything else that town centers usually had -- just a wide open space.
As they passed through it, Tom suddenly stumbled. Allan looked at him and saw that he'd tripped in distraction, his head turned to an alleyway where two shrouded figures stood. They appeared much as the one at the edge of town had been: completely covered in burial clothes, heads bowed so their faces could not be seen, and seemingly frozen in place.
Allan dismissed them as unimportant -- categorizing them as similar to the seated figure they'd met earlier -- but when he turned his head back to look at their destination, he was shocked to see three more shrouded figures at the end of the square where there had been none only a second ago.
"Allan?" Tom asked.
Allan only shook his head, unsettled. He turned his head to look behind him and saw even more figures there. Some were standing, some where sitting on low walls, or huddled on the ground. They looked like everyday citizens frozen in the act of going about their daily routines.
Looking back in front of him, he saw that the figures there had multiplied in number, and none of them were in the same place they'd been when Allan had last looked. Indeed, there was one with a torn shawl of fabric that had been near a small house at first and was now clear across the square.
"We need to keep going," Allan said. Every time he turned his head, there were new figures in new places. He never saw any of them moving, but they were getting closer somehow. He and Tom were completely surrounded. There was still space in the town square to avoid the figures that were there, but if things continued on this way, that wouldn't remain the case.
Tom didn't need to be told twice, but he drew closer to Allan as they again began their journey through the city.
They'd barely gone a half dozen steps when the ground suddenly shook hard enough that Tom lost his footing and fell hard on his hands. A tremendous bang echoed from behind them, and Allan didn't need to turn to see the tomb was the source.
"Now, Tom, now!" Allan grabbed Tom's bicep and hauled him up so they could get away.
But it was useless. There was now a wall of the shrouded figures before them, bowed heads all turned in their direction.
There is no escape.
This voice was different from the everywhere-voice of the first ghost they'd met, and it sent a shudder through Allan just to hear it.
A harsh red light came up from behind them, and even though Allan knew better, he turned to look.
Towering over them was a skeleton more than twice their size draped in decaying fabric. On the top of its massive head was the crown Allan had just rid them of. It had grown in size to accommodate the wearer and now seemed fused into the skull. The crystal at the center of the crown was now blazing with an angry red light.
"Is that what you didn't want me to see?" Tom asked.
"Yes," Allan said unhappily. The skull was generally human in composition but the details were anything but. The eye sockets were narrower and sharply triangular, giving it a more menacing appearance than a human skull. Nor did it have the smiling grin of a human skeleton. Huge canine teeth came down in an overbite like a saber-tooth cat. The jaw was too big, pulled forward and filled with too many sharp teeth. The cheekbones flared out widely, giving the overall shape of the skull a more square than oblong look.
What they could see of the rest of the skeleton showed strong, thick bones with sharp edges as if the being had been carved and sharpened rather than developed naturally.
"Okay, I would've been good not seeing that."
Allan ignored Tom's remark. Turning his attention to the skeleton, he said, "We only came to return what was taken. We weren't the ones responsible for that, and we're not going to take anything else. We don't belong here. You have to let us go."
The skeleton swayed slightly. You are mistaken. You do belong among us. I can smell it. You have been beyond the veil. You should have stayed there. We will fix that.
Allan felt his insides freeze. Around them, the ghost-statues were suddenly several feet closer. Allan hadn't seen any of them move.
"He was brought back!" Tom shouted. "If he was meant to be dead, he would've stayed that way. Something more than you decided that wasn't the case. He belongs with the living."
Yet he is here. It calls to you, doesn't it? You can feel it.
Allan's hands felt clammy and he could feel his heart fluttering in his chest -- just as it had before he'd died. He shook his head, wanting to deny the cold-voice that sunk deep into his chest.
You have brought back my crown, and I am grateful. Let me return the favor, and free you from this living cage.
The shrouded statues were in every direction and there was no way to see them all. Allan felt a cold touch to his shoulder, finding one of the statues right beside him, its claw-like hand digging hard into his flesh.
Physically, that was all that happened. Internally, Allan could feel something deep inside being brutally wrenched, but clearly not something like an internal organ. It was a wholly unique sensation to him, something intangible that he had never felt before this moment.
And it was exceedingly painful. It was like being stretched thin, like a victim of the rack being pulled in opposite directions at once. Before his eyes, his arm looked blurred where the figure held him but he couldn't make sense of what he saw.
"No!" Tom grabbed Allan's arm right over the mark. The instant he did, the ghostly touch became intangible. Whatever it was holding of Allan slipped through its fingers, and the statue-like figure vanished.
"Allan belongs with me. We're soulmates. You can't take him," Tom said.
Then we shall have to take you too.
"Stop!" Allan's shout was useless. The figures were all around them, crowding close. Two of them were suddenly holding Tom by his arms, pinning him in place with unnatural strength. Another was right in front of him, clawed hands digging into his chest.
Dropping the wand-light, Tom screamed.
The figures were frozen in place, but Allan's eyes were seeing things in a strange way now. Hands that were still as stone were in motion in the same instant, needle-sharp nails digging into Tom and pulling.
It was like there were two Toms connected at the waist: one held firm in place and one being pulled forward. Allan realized he was seeing Tom's soul being wrenched out of his body. The blur of before had been Allan's soul, but whatever had called him back to life must have made it difficult to pull his soul free.
That was not the case with Tom, whose whole upper body seemed to be in two places as the ghostly figure continued to pull.
Allan jumped forward just as Tom had, grabbing for the soulmark. It was the only tangible place he knew to allow him to touch Tom's soul and possibly stop this.
The effects were not immediate as they had been with Allan. Tom's soul was still being pulled out, but now he had a fixed point inside him. Allan could see how part of his soul held fast to the mark on Tom's arm but the rest of him was now being stretched. It was clearly excruciating for Tom, whose face was twisted in agony.
"Stop this!" Allan shouted, hating to see Tom in pain.
But the ghostly statues did not let go. Desperate, Allan body-checked the figure in front of him, using whatever physical presence the shrouded figures had to disrupt the process. Still holding hard to Tom's forearm, he wrapped his other arm around Tom's waist and pulled them flush, yanking Tom out of the other figures' hold.
Finally, the brutal attack was halted. Tom clutched at Allan's shirt with his free hand, panting hard.
Allan repositioned their hands quickly, wanting to make sure they were ready for another attack. He interlaced their fingers and held Tom's hand close to his own body so that their soulmarks touched each other skin to skin. He pulled Tom closer, keeping their joined hands between their bodies so the figures could not pull them away.
"The only place I belong is with Tom, and it is not his time to die," Allan growled at the giant skeleton.
You are here in the City of the Dead. Of course it is your time to die.
More hands grabbed hold of them. Allan gritted his teeth and held on hard to Tom. He could feel Tom's grip on him tighten in turn.
It was different this time. He could feel their hold on his soul but it seemed as if the spirits around him couldn't pull his soul out of his body, not even the small amount they'd done before. Tom was still slipperier than Allan, but he too was held fast inside his body.
The ghostly figures had to give up, and Allan and Tom were both panting from effort. They couldn't keep this up forever. They had to find a way to move so they could get out of this city.
Extinguish the lights! They cannot hold onto what they cannot see.
The skeleton sounded angry, and the feel of it rattled Allan's teeth.
The harsh red light instantly disappeared. All around them, the mushroom lights began to fade away too. Allan could see the nearest mushroom on the far shore fall over. It seemed the ghostly shades could be everywhere, even up in the ceiling far above their heads.
Without the mushrooms to light their souls, would Allan still have something to hold onto to keep Tom with him? It shouldn't matter because the marks were written upon their souls -- they wouldn't just go away -- but maybe the ability for a physical being to manipulate the spiritual realm would be impacted without the strange light from the mushrooms. Allan had no idea what the rules were.
The cavern was getting darker and darker, and the strange pink/orange light from their skin was fading.
Allan's heart was beating wildly with panic, terrified he was going to lose Tom.
"Hold onto me, Tom. Hold on."
"I don't want to let go," Tom said. Physically, they both held on tighter. But that wasn't going to do them any good if their connection to the spiritual vanished and they no longer knew how to hold onto each other's souls.
Allan didn't know how to fight this. He was right back to how helpless he felt as his son died in his arms, unable to do anything to stop what was happening. Allan had sworn to himself that he would not let anything happen to Tom, and he was going to fail.
Tears prickled at his eyes, and he felt despair threaten him. Tom must have seen something because he forced an unconvincing smile and said, "Don't give up. We're not licked yet. The great Allan Quatermain isn't going to end it here. That's a terrible ending to his story."
It was so absurd, and Allan loved Tom so much in this moment. The mushroom light was fading away, and Tom was becoming indistinct before Allan's eyes. Allan couldn't bear to see the moment when Tom was lost to him so he did the only thing worth doing.
He closed his eyes and kissed Tom.
Tom was gratifyingly quick to respond. It was the most desperate kiss Allan had had in his life, clutching Tom tight to him as darkness descended all around them.
But Allan had never felt more alive than he did in this moment -- more connected to someone else. Tom was there with him. This fate, whatever it would be, would be one they shared.
Brilliant bright light flared all around them, so dazzling that they were startled to break apart. More surprising, they realized they were the source of the light. Their marks were glowing bright enough to light up the whole town square, letting them see everything around them.
In the light, Allan could see marks on all the souls around them. Even the skeleton had one. Allan recognized the symbol from the sarcophagus lid. It glowed pink, like the mushroom light, right in the center of the skeleton's chest. Allan could make out a hazy line around the skeleton, showing something of what it might've looked like had it still been alive.
Together you may be. Together in death as easily in life.
The moment of reprieve was over. The statue-like figures were all around them, pressing in close. Allan could feel their presence on a different level now -- could feel how they filled up the space beyond just their shrouded forms.
There was nowhere to move, and again Tom and Allan had to simply bear it as the ghosts around them tried to pull their souls out of their body.
Their connection had never been stronger. Allan understood now. He was tied to his physical form, probably by whatever force had brought him back to life. Tom was tied to him now. Allan could feel it. If Allan's soul could not be drawn out of his body, then neither could Tom's.
That didn't mean it wasn't agony to go through.
Stop!
Instantly, the ghostly figures were gone. Allan looked around to find they had all repositioned themselves on the edges of the town square, finally giving Allan and Tom some room.
Looking at the opposite end of the square from where the skeleton was, Allan saw the figures were in two columns there with another statue right between them. Its soulmark was the same color and shape as the one the skeleton bore.
You cannot take them. It was the everywhere-voice that had warned them away earlier. Allan knew it was the same figure as before. They are bound together. Their journey does not end here.
So you have passed the barrier at last. Do you think you can stop me? The skeleton's voice was contemptuous.
I shouldn't have to. Do you not see what you have become? You are a shadow of who you used to be. I do not recognize you.
The skeleton's tone was angry. You left. Why should I remain as I was when it wasn't good enough to make you stay?
It was so bizarre to hear such a passionate debate when literally everything around them was frozen still.
I left because you changed. You craved the power of that crown upon your head more than you did your union to me. The everywhere-voice sounded sad and hurt and a little angry too.
I did it for you! I did everything for you but it was not enough.
I never wanted any of that. I only wanted you. I wanted a simple life. The sadness grew. Do you remember how it was, before the crown came into our lives? Do you remember what it was to live?
Allan blinked, and the first figure was gone. He turned his head to look back and found the figure standing before the skeleton.
The everywhere-voice continued, These two have reminded me of what I had forgotten. There is value in life. It is easy to throw it away as useless now that we are dead, but the memory shapes us no matter how much we may wish to forget. We were good together, weren't we? Once upon a time.
The skeleton did not respond. Allan wondered if he and Tom might try to make a quiet escape, but the other spirits were everywhere, and he wasn't sure distracting from this conversation was a good idea.
You look at them and you hate them because they remind you of what we had. We are still soulmates. We were meant to be together. We should be together. Set down your crown and come back to me.
That is what you truly want. You've always wanted to weaken me.
I wanted to save you! The everywhere-voice was filled with frustration.
From what? I have the power to command life and death. None can escape my grasp.
Except me. The sadness was back. Are you happy?
That seemed to give the skeleton pause. No.
Were you happy with me?
I don't remember.
The figure was closer to the skeleton now, which towered over it. Somehow, though, the figure seemed mightier to Allan.
I didn't either. Not until I saw these two. Their presence has stirred faint memories in me of how it used to be, and I have been moved to act.
Allan squeezed Tom around the middle to get his attention. Wordlessly, he gestured with his head toward the other end of the square. If the opportunity came, they were going to make a run for it. It might be their only chance.
Tom nodded and slowly bent down just enough to grab the wand-light without breaking contact with Allan.
And what will you do? The skeleton sounded calm, as if this was all scripted and he was simply playing his part.
I loved you once. I believe I still might love you now. It is because I love you that I cannot bear to see you like this any longer. I will do what I must to save you from yourself.
What happened next happened in a way that Allan's senses could not wholly grasp. He saw light flashing and he heard a whirlwind of voices. Whatever was happening was happening on the spiritual level. Even with their newly created bond, Allan wasn't able to truly capture it while still in his physical body.
He was okay with that. He could see enough to understand what was going on. It appeared the skeleton and the other figure were fighting, and if there was ever at time to run, it was now.
Tom clearly came to the same conclusion. Still holding hands, they turned in unison and made a mad dash away.
The figures around them did not move, leaving an aisle through which they could run. Allan could feel the connection flowing between him and Tom. He could feel Tom's energy flooding him, keeping him from feeling winded and tired. He hoped his experience was flowing back to Tom, letting him make the most of the energy he did have and showing him how to read the area around them for the best escape.
Just as they crossed the bridge out of town, a massive tremor hit, and both Tom and Allan stumbled hard. Somehow they managed to keep hold of each other but it stopped their momentum flat.
Looking up, they saw two statue-figures before them. Both of them had the same pinkish mark on their chests, identifying them as the two fighting figures. The giant skeleton was gone but one of the shrouded figures had a pointed crown under its burial shroud. Neither moved.
It is done. It was the everywhere-voice, which was a little reassuring.
Still, Allan wasn't going to feel good about any of this until he was outside the mountain again. "What is done?"
The crown has passed hands.
"How do you know it won't corrupt you the way it did your mate?" Tom asked.
I do not. That was definitely not reassuring. You must never return here.
"Don't worry. Coming back here is the last thing we want to do," Tom said.
"Indeed," Allan agreed.
Nor shall you have the opportunity. Slowly, the figure with the crown moved its hand and pointed along the path. Go now. While you still can.
That was certainly ominous. Allan and Tom shared a look before once again dashing down the road. All around them the mushrooms lay in heaps upon the ground, making it a little difficult to navigate, but there was a path to take that led them to the stairwell.
As they passed through the gate, the light from their soulmarks instantly disappeared, leaving them in darkness. It only lasted a few seconds as Tom revved up the wand-light, letting them see their way forward. Allan could feel the spiritual connection between them dim too, but it was still there, still flowing energy and an intuitive understanding between them.
They began the arduous journey upward, going as fast as they could, pushing themselves as fear drove them. It didn't feel like this was over. Allan could sense that something was about to happen, and he was sure that even outside the bounds of the spiritual realm they'd just left, he was projecting that feeling to Tom.
Indeed, they had not even reached their last rest stop before another great tremor hit. Something cracked loudly, and then they heard a crash. The stairs shook hard.
Tom held out the wand-light over the abyss and saw smoke rising up. The stairs shook again, and there was another loud crash.
"The stairs are collapsing!" Allan realized. They still had so far to go to get up to the tunnel above -- too far to outrace the steadily collapsing staircase.
There was nothing for them to do but try. Hand-in-hand they ran up the steps, trying to keep their balance as the stairs continued to shake. Only by holding onto each other could they keep going as one or the other stumbled under the dangerous conditions.
The top was too far away though. They weren't going to make it.
Another heavy shake and they could finally see the stairs falling away below them. The destruction was catching up. It seemed like the walls were beginning to cave inward, tipping the stairs to an angle that made navigating them even trickier.
Allan threw out a hand to the wall to steady himself, but there suddenly wasn't a wall. Where before there had been solid stone the whole way down, there was a hole now.
The stairs were falling away faster, almost to where they were. With no other option, Allan pulled Tom into the man-sized hole just as the steps they were on dropped away.
Tom looked back, obviously curious to see what could be seen, but Allan pulled hard on their joined hands. This still wasn't over.
The hole appeared to be a new tunnel, and Allan didn't stop to take it in. They weren't safe yet. They needed to keep going.
His intuition was right. Even as they were running away, there was another crash as the opening of the tunnel collapsed too.
"Are they going to bring the whole mountain down on top of us?" Tom yelled as he ran beside Allan.
"Let's hope there's a way out before that happens."
That was all the wind Allan could spare for talking. Even with the flow of energy that was still coming from Tom -- his youth giving wing to both their feet -- Allan was starting to get a stitch in his side. He was not a young man, and this was ridiculous. They'd been up for far too long, and running full pelt for days was beyond any living creature.
That was what Allan expected would have to happen, though, if they wanted to get out alive. It had taken them days to get to the City of the Dead. They weren't in the original tunnel any more so who knew where they were running to.
The tunnel had a steep incline, which was good in Allan's estimation as up was definitely the way to go, but they had no way of knowing if up and out were the same thing.
Behind them, there was more crashing as the tunnel collapsed little by little, always chasing them down. There was nowhere to stop.
Suddenly, Allan thought he saw light up ahead. It gave him a second wind, and he pulled Tom along with a strength he had not possessed a day earlier.
The tunnel collapsing came closer and closer, but Allan's eyes had not deceived him. Fresh air floated on a breeze, and Allan knew they were close to an exit.
Allan and Tom burst out into the sunshine, and found themselves at the bottom of a deep fissure between two mountains. They threw themselves to the side as a torrent of rocks and dirt exploded out of the tunnel as it collapsed completely, leaving no route to return that way.
Loud bangs and pops echoed through the mountain passes around them, and Allan was sure this wasn't the only tunnel to have met its end.
That was fine by him. He never wanted to see this place again.
"Woohoo!" Tom shouted once they had finally caught their breath. He smiled wide, looking giddy with adrenaline and relief. "We're alive!"
Allan shared his delight, although he was too old to jump up and down anymore. "So we are. Alive to tell another thrilling tale of Allan Quatermain. What did you think of your first expedition?"
"I think you may have been wrong about the books exaggerating everything. Clearly, they're undercooking the narrative because no one would believe it otherwise."
Allan shook his head, amused.
Tom scooted closer to him, eyes shining. "So, we're soulmates." As promised, he hadn't let it go, and Allan was fine with that. More than fine actually.
They both looked down at their arms. Allan expected the marks to have disappeared now that they were back in the physical world. Instead, clear as day, the mark was still there. It was pink and slightly raised, like a burn scar. A look at Tom showed his was the same.
"So it seems," Allan said, voice thick. "It looks like you're stuck with me."
Tom's expression turned soft. "No, I get to be with you."
Allan felt something loosen in his chest. He didn't need to say the words. He leaned forward and Tom was already there, kissing him back.
In that instant, Allan knew that he would never undertake another adventure alone. Tom would be there with him for every step of his life from this moment on, and Allan wouldn't have it any other way.