by Pete Clark
Less than a hundred yards away stood Boone. He was flailing wildly in an attempt to convey to Marion and Morgan that they should be silent and also to put out the light.
“Why are you freaking out?” Marion asked.
“Shhh.” Boone leaned in as Morgan finally put out his light. “There is a giant ass, actual, real, walking around, goddamn dragon in that cave.”
“Dragon? Really?” Morgan seemed excited. “I’ve never seen a dragon before.”
“Neither have I,” Marion added.
“That makes three of us. I’ve never even heard of anyone having seen a dragon. But that’s probably because everyone who has ever seen one has probably been killed by it.”
“Maybe you’re just seeing things. There probably isn’t a dragon,” suggested Morgan.
“Listen. When you were flashing your giant blazing torch around, I got a real good look at it. And, by the way, it’s huge; I didn’t mistake some giant bat for a dragon. This thing is bigger than the town hall.”
“Which town hall?” Marion asked, for no good reason.
“All the town halls. It’s bigger than all the town halls. And if we keep babbling like idiots, it is going to be a little bit bigger, because it’s going to eat us and get fatter.”
“So it’s a fat dragon?”
“Are you trying to be an idiot?”
“Sorry,” said Marion. “I get a little scatterbrained when I’m nervous.”
“Find. Now we need to keep quiet. We need to get the hell out of here and find a way to get past those goblins as well. But most important, we need not to get melted and or eaten by this dragon.”
Dragons got a bad rap. People thought that, on the whole, they were angry, violent beasts. Utterly merciless, with the lone goal of consuming the flesh and hoarding the treasure of whatever fools entered their lairs. These labels were simply unfair and untrue. Dragons were not mindless roaring monsters who wanted to sustain themselves on the flesh of the living and draw in more victims with their caches of gold. Instead, they were quite intelligent. Sure, if you were made of flesh and the dragon was hungry, it would probably eat you. And they did collect treasure, but not for some deceptive trap purposes. They didn’t even hoard treasure because they were miserly. Most dragons simply liked shiny objects. Sure, once in a while, you would come across a reasonably dumb dragon. But they were rare and Darwin usually took care of them. Granted Darwin was not born yet, but his grandfather was and he was pretty smart. Anyway, the point is that most dragons were smart and also they enjoyed a good prank. Dragons were notorious for being pranksters. Now, this reputation was not perpetuated, as most victims of dragon’s pranks usually died. Still, dragons were jokers. This particular dragon, Oliver, was a huge fan of practical jokes. He was a dragon, so his idea of humor may differ slightly from say your average human, of course.
In this case, Oliver was going about his dragon business in the hopes that the three extremely loud humans would think that he did not notice them and try to sneak past. He figured he would wait until they were just about past and then he would jump up and be all like – “ha ha, humans; I knew you were there the whole time.” Then he would laugh and eat them. Trust me; that was high comedy for a dragon.
“Listen,” Boone said. “I don’t think it’s seen us yet. I’d rather not try to go back through those goblins. Who knows where they’ll be hiding or how many of them there are.”
“I would actually rather take my chances with the goblins, since I can kill them, but I’m not too comfortable with our chances against the massive dragon.” Marion made a solid point.
“Decent point. But that damn Mahrak said that we have to find our way through the mountain pass. Not down and back out the way we came. So we know it isn’t back that way,” said Boone.
“Fine,” Marion continued. “But we could take that other fork. The one that went up. Maybe that would be a way out.”
“Honestly I don’t think so. This feels like the center. I have a hunch that we need to pass through here in order to get out. I know it in my bones.”
“Great. The dragon can enjoy eating your bones as well as your hunch,” Marion added.
“Listen,” Morgan finally interjected. “Why don’t we just head back the way we came? Kill any stupid goblins in our way and go out the entrance? Then when we see Mahrak, we’ll be like, ‘Hey Mahrak; it sure was swell finding our way out through that cave. Thanks for the gauntlet.’”
“What if he doesn’t believe us?”
“Then we simply beat him mercilessly until he tells us what we want to know.” Morgan nodded for effect.
“That might work.”
“I don’t know,” said Boone. “I’m not really into beating people to get information. Besides, he could lie and we really need to have accurate knowledge to figure this thing out.”
“Fine; let’s kill the dragon.” Morgan started to stroll into the opening, but Marion yanked him back under cover.
“We’ll just sneak back up the way we came and take the other fork. If it turns out it doesn’t lead anywhere, then we’re back where we started and we can discuss it again.”
While this conversation was going on, Oliver the dragon was getting bored. Of course, he heard the whole conversation. Have you seen dragon ears? They are huge. He obviously heard everything. He enjoyed their dimwitted banter, but he was growing restless. He decided to creep around to the near wall and slide along it until he could maneuver his face so that it was right up against the entrance where the three men were gathered. Dragons were surprisingly good at creeping, despite their bulk. In a moment, he was in position. He nuzzled his face right up against the entrance. If he stuck his tongue out, he could have licked the one with the smelly hat.
Oliver let out a small chuckle of anticipation. It was little more than a minute snicker, but it seemed to get their attention. While the three of them were discussing the benefits of taking the other path, they heard a thunderous deafening roar. From right beside them, not more than a yard away, the dragon had stuck its face next to them and roared mightily. The tail on Boone’s hat swung backward from the force of the dragon’s breath. Luckily, the dragon chose not to shoot fire at that time. Sure, Oliver could have crispied them all up with a bit of fire breath, but he would much rather play with them a bit more. He chuckled again and slid his head back.
Another mind-erasing roar resounded from the depths of the dragon. Boone could barely be heard above it.
“Do I really need to say run right now?”
He pushed his way past the other two and ran as fast as he could through the darkening passage. He risked sparking his torch. He ran along for another few minutes up the rising path they had come down just a short while ago. He reached the fork and turned to see if the others were behind him; Marion ran straight into his chest, knocking them both to the ground. Morgan trotted in a moment later.
“Get up idiots. Look.” He pointed further up the passage and a few silhouettes could be seen heading in their direction. “All your screaming and yelling has brought the goblins right to us. Let’s go.”
He darted into the other fork. It headed upward at a fairly steep slope. Boone and Marion followed quickly. Boone’s torch was lit, so he was able to notice that this cave was also starting to widen as they went forward. He kept running. He saw that Morgan and Marion had gotten a bit ahead of him, but they were stopped up ahead. He didn’t know what that was about.
“Make a hole; we need to hustle.” He tried to squeeze between the two of them. Then he was no longer running. His legs were moving but they were just pumping in open air. “Shit. Did I just run off a cliff?”
“You tried,” said Morgan. His voice was too close and calm for either of them to be plummeting to their death. He stopped kicking his legs around. Marion and Morgan had grabbed an arm each as he ran past and caught him as he nearly sprinted off the edge of a rocky cliff.
They settled him back down onto the ground. He took a moment to take in the view. They
were once again in a huge underground opening. It was a giant rocky dome. Stalactites of immeasurable size hung from the cave roof. They were on a cliff that had to be 200 plus feet above the surface and another 50 from the ceiling. Beneath them, they could see the floor reflecting; it appeared that it was a lake. There was no other exit immediately visible; what was visible was the same giant dragon as before.
“Balls,” Morgan elucidated. “All we managed to do was to find a different and less passable way to get back to where we were.”
“Yeah but at least the dragon doesn’t know we’re here this time,” Boone said.
“Yeah, but those goblins do.” Marion pointed to the way they had come where a dozen goblins were massing at the entrance. It appeared that more were starting to pile in behind them. They glanced around and could not see a way around them.
“Maybe we can crawl down the cliff?”
When Boone heard that, he began to think that perhaps Marion was an idiot.
“It’s that or fight. Do we have any rope?” Morgan asked.
“Yes we do, but I doubt these goblins are just going to hang back while we tie off. And even if they do, I’m pretty confident that they will be smart enough to cut the rope, then laugh about what dumb asses we are. And finally, the dragon is over the cliff. How is that better?”
“The dragon doesn’t know we’re here,” argued Marion.
That was when Oliver decided to chuckle again.
****
Arnold led the way through the dark halls toward the attic stairs. They could hear rustling among the other rooms. He stopped at one of the doors, from behind which a particularly loud clatter was coming.
“Come on,” said Adams. “The stairs are further on.”
“Yes,” said Arnold. “But we told Washington we’d clear the upper floor.”
“There’s going to be too many and it will be too time consuming to go from room to room. We need to get outside and take care of them that way,” said Revere.
“There is obviously a bunch in here. We should at least clear them out.”
Arnold looked over to Prescott, who nodded his head in agreement. That decided it. Arnold pushed against the door and looked inside. It was dark except for a trickle of moonlight that was drifting in through the large windows at the far side of the room. He pushed the door further open and was knocked back into the hallway as a wraith crashed into him. Arnold landed hard on the floor and his sword tumbled from his hand. The wraith had him pinned to the floor; it reached back to rend Arnold’s face with its claws. As the arm descended, the wraith’s head was severed, and both arm and head landed helpless on the floor next to Arnold.
After Prescott beheaded the wraith, he turned back to the room as several more charged. Dawes’ rifle roared and the silver slug tore through another wraith’s chest. Another knocked Adams aside and sent him tumbling over the still prone Arnold. Arnold shoved him off and picked up his sword. He pulled his other sword from his hip and waded into a small sea of wraiths. Arnold was vicious and effective. He speared two creatures immediately and split a third down the middle from its head to its crotch. Dawes, meanwhile, was taking forever to reload his gun. Revere was trying to look busy as he shuffled his feet and tried to stay out of trouble.
Lynch was wrestling with a wraith. They had hold of his rifle and they twisted back and forth as each tried to gain an advantage. Prescott drew both of his pistols. The wraith fighting with Lynch was put down with a crack of gunfire and a puff of smoke. Prescott then shoved the main door the rest of the way open. He blazed away with his pistols, rapidly rotating the barrels with his opposing hands between blasts. He was done firing and already reloaded by the time Arnold got a good look inside the room. Another six wraiths lay dead. The rumors of Prescott were true. With a little silver, this guy was unstoppable. Arnold was going to make a point to make an ally of this man.
“All right,” Adams said, as he finally got to his feet. “We need to get up to the attic, get outside, and take care of the rest of these things before they break in down below.” Suddenly, there was a loud crashing and shout of fright from below.
“Should we go help?” Revere asked.
There was a pause as they debated. They had to go outside to stop the wraiths from breaking in. But if they were already in...
“Let’s try to get back in,” Prescott said, as he started to backtrack. A moment later, there rose from below a triumphant “Huzzah.”
“I guess they’re okay for now,” said Dawes. “We better get back to plan A. And can we all agree not to huzzah when something good happens?”
They figured that the barricades below would not last much longer, but as long as there were huzzahs, there was always hope. What was up with them and their huzzahs? They couldn’t do anything without a huzzah.
To the attic they went. When they found the stairs, they discovered that they were unlocked. Adams noted that he thought that was odd, as the attic was supposed to be secure. They headed out onto the roof. It was clear. They did a quick scan of the area that surrounded the building. On all sides, there was a substantial amount of wraiths. They were concentrated in groups around the windows and the main doors. They seemed suspiciously organized.
“Is this normal behavior for these creatures?” Revere asked. “Are they always so organized?”
“No.” That was all Prescott said. He scanned the flowing mass of monsters with his brooding eyes.
“Maybe there is some kind of leader?” Arnold wondered.
“Wraiths generally hunt solo or in a pack. But not like wolves. Their packs are usually equal. No leaders that stand out; they just swarm and attack as a unit. This does not make sense.”
“Maybe that’s the key,” said Adams. “If we can find a leader that is instructing them, maybe we can scare the rest off.”
“I don’t know about scare. But they might just disperse when they realize that the building is more trouble than it’s worth. That’s another thing. They wouldn’t normally hang in against tough odds. Even in such a large pack, they would probably just move on and try to find easier prey. Such prey is definitely available around here.”
“Yes. I’d say there must be a leader of some kind,” Dawes chipped in.
“I believe we established that already,” Arnold mocked. “What we need to do is identify him.”
“Do you think it would be another wraith?” Adams leaned out over the ledge.
“Careful,” Lynch said. “You don’t want to let them know we’re up here.”
“No,” Prescott said coolly. “I doubt that it would be a wraith. There has to be something different leading them. But that isn’t exactly normal ripper activity, either. They usually don’t work together. Split up. Try to see if anything looks odd. A protective ring of wraiths around someone or something. A wraith sort of above the others. I don’t know - anything strange.”
“Like this?” Dawes pointed across the southern edge of Carpenters’ Hall. A few roads away was a large town building of some kind. On the roof stood a man, alone and calmly staring at them.
“Yes,” Prescott said as he unslung his rifle. “I would say that is strange.”
****
“What are we going to do now?” Marion asked Boone.
“I don’t know, Francis; you’re the one who didn’t want to try to sneak past the dragon back when we were on the ground and there was a clear lack of goblins.”
“Come on. Don’t call me Francis. I told you.”
“We could call you Marion,” Morgan suggested.
“That’s a girl’s name. You should call me the Swamp Fox.”
“Swamp Fox,” said Boone. “You can’t just give yourself a nickname. That isn’t how it works.”
“I didn’t give it to myself. Lots of people call me that.”
“What people?”
“Like everybody. You know, I earned the nickname from being clever like a fox and-”
“Living in a swamp,” Boone added. “So, since everyone
calls you that, maybe we can ask the goblins. Hey fellas - what do you call this guy?”
The goblins responded by throwing spears at them. Fortunately, they were small and fairly inaccurate. Boone aimed his swivel rifle. He fired but missed; he swung his barrel around and fired the other barrel. This one found its target and a chunk of goblin jaw was torn loose and thrown into the cavern tunnel. While he reloaded, Marion spoke.
“We can’t shoot them all. In a minute, they’ll be on top of us and there are too many.”
He peered down the cliff. It was pretty steep, but there were a few footholds here and there. If they could find a place to tie a rope and put the torch in a position that would illuminate the climb, they could make it. But all that was dependent upon not being stabbed by goblins or eaten by the dragon.
The dragon, meanwhile, was happily circling down below. He was gliding up slightly and figured that he would check in on his friends on the ledge again in a few minutes to see what they were up to. But for now, he just wanted to enjoy the feel of the wind on his wings and listen to it gently whistle as it blew threw his teeth. He enjoyed flying in circles, because the cave seemed made for such movement and, at the apex of each cycle, he got a nice look at his giant pile of shiny treats as he flew over it. Oh, shiny treats; how he loved them. Up above, he heard some loud noises. They were probably those weird smoky stick things that some food people carried with them. Oliver didn’t like those things. They were sort of noisy and they threw some kind of rock that could be annoying if they hit him in a tender spot. He was going to have to put an end to this.
The goblins were advancing. Morgan put a bullet in one’s eye and although that made one less, there were too many to count, so it hardly mattered. The three of them were now flush with the cliff. They had nowhere to go. The goblins were approaching very slowly. That didn’t seem to make a lot of sense. They clearly wanted to kill the hell out of Marion, Boone, and Morgan, but at the same time, they did not want to move further into the cave. Oh yeah, thought Boone, that’s probably because of the dragon.
