Vane shouted.
The man looked behind him.
A roar echoed from the upper tunnel.
Water had begun entering the passage.
The man fled.
Vane followed him.
I grabbed Merrick’s sleeve.
“Move!”
But Gideon remained beside the wheel.
He examined the brass plate.
Then he pulled a metal pin from its housing.
The wheel shifted.
He tried turning it again.
This time it moved.
Only a fraction.
But enough to change the pressure against the gate.
I understood what he needed.
“Merrick!
Help him!”
My brother hesitated.
Then he rushed to Gideon’s side.
Together, they pushed against the wheel.
Rust shrieked.
The mechanism groaned.
Water sprayed through the seam.
I positioned the lantern so Gideon could see the engraved markings.
He pointed toward a second lever hidden beneath the wheel.
I pulled it.
Nothing happened.
I pulled harder.
The lever snapped downward.
A heavy chain moved inside the wall.
The gate began to close.
Slowly.
Painfully.
Gideon and Merrick continued turning the wheel.
The pressure against the gate increased.
For a moment, I thought the entire mechanism would break apart.
Then the gate dropped into position.
The roaring water diminished.
A final burst washed across the floor.
And the chamber stopped trembling.
We stood motionless.
Breathing hard.
Soaked to our knees.
Alive.
Gideon collapsed against the wall.
I rushed toward him.
His injured ear had begun bleeding again.
He pressed a trembling hand against it.
But when he saw my frightened expression, he reached for the notebook.
The lower gate is shut.
