Black Knight

by Christopher Pike

  “Why not?” I persist. He sounds so sure of himself.

  “Think how old her race is,” Kyle says. “They go back before recorded history. But what do we know about them? Next to nothing. They move in packs and they’re telepathic. That’s it. Oh, wait, there’s one more thing. They’re so damn old because they’re so damn good at surviving. All of us, let’s be honest, we see them as the small and weak ones. We’re not afraid of them like we are of Viper and Nordra. But I think they want it that way. I think it’s all a setup. You ask me, they’re the most dangerous creatures on this island.”

  “No one fears the enemy that’s right in front of you,” Chad mutters, nodding.

  “Exactly!” Kyle cries, yanking on Jelanda’s chain. “Look around, we’re all afraid, and we have a right to be.” He points at Jelanda. “Now look at her, she’s not scared, not at all. Because she knows something we don’t. That’s got to be the reason.”

  I consider. “All right, you’ve made your point. You can keep her prisoner as long as you can carry Li and keep up with Sam and me. Now, enough talk, let’s move.”

  Crossing the river turns out to be a curious experience. It’s a mere stream compared to the raging rapids we had to wade through our first night on the island, but I find it almost as difficult as that initial attempt. I have Marc on my back, of course, and the air is thin and filled with fumes, but none of these factors equals the chill factor. The water is the direct runoff of melted snow and should be freezing, and yet it feels colder than ice, much colder. Splashing as fast as I can over the slippery stones hidden three or four feet below the rushing surface, I almost feel as if I’m taking a dip in a giant flask of liquid nitrogen, or some such exotic fluid that’s only found in chemistry labs. My feet and calves go numb in seconds and from the yelps I hear from Sam and Kyle, I’m grateful we have Marc, Chad, and Li secure on our backs. I swear the water would have killed them. I hate the bitch but it’s hard to watch Kyle drag Jelanda through the stream. It’s not until we’ve hiked far from the river that I finally build up enough body heat to stop shivering.

  “That was cold,” Marc mumbles in my ear, slipping in and out of consciousness.

  “Sleep, darling,” I whisper, and he does go back to sleep.

  We circle a quarter of the cinder cone, reaching what we believe is the center of the south side, when suddenly the fumes all but disappear. What a relief! From our new angle it’s clear that Sam was right and the majority of the steam and smoke is being blown directly east, toward the sea, the direction we came from.

  Yet the air is extremely thin and our lungs labor to extract enough oxygen to keep our blood from turning into molasses. Plus the terrain has changed once again. There’s snow on the ground: not everywhere, but in patches long and deep enough to slow us further. Gazing down at the distant sea in the dimming light, Chad estimates our altitude at nineteen thousand feet. The sudden drop in temperature backs up his estimate.

  “We’re three and a half miles above sea level,” Sam says. “I’ve never heard of an island with such a tall mountain.”

  “Actually, if you measure Mauna Kea on the big island of Hawaii from its base to its peak, it’s a lot higher than Mount Everest,” Chad says. “It’s over six miles high.”

  “Bullshit,” Kyle says. “Everyone knows Mount Everest is the highest mountain in the world.”

  “I meant if you measure Kea from its oceanic base,” Chad explains. “Its base is a couple of miles underwater.”

  Kyle’s tired and annoyed. “What does such scientific trivia have to do with our situation?”

  Chad shrugs. “It’s a good reminder that where we’re at isn’t on any map I’ve ever seen.”

  “How high up is the cave?” I ask Sam. I still can’t see the opening and it’s going to be dark in less than an hour.

  “You don’t see it until you’re practically on top of it,” Sam says. “It’s like someone built it that way.”

  “What about the wall?” Kyle asks.

  Sam’s face darkens. “Let’s deal with that when we get to it.”

  Finally, the last stretch of our long hike. Soon we’ll arrive at our goal and soon we’ll know if it was worth the effort. What am I hoping to find? Answers? Sam’s already been to the cave, and the wall for that matter, and he doesn’t seem to know anything we don’t. The truth be told, I worry we’ve come all this way because we didn’t know where else to go.

  Yet the dark stone embedded in our bracelets gives me hope we might discover something vital. Especially since the wall is supposed to be made out of the identical material.

  I search for the magical wall as we hike toward the invisible cave entrance. I don’t see it, either, and wonder how a wall as massive as Sam described isn’t visible when we’re so close to it.

  The last half mile of our hike is brutal. The cinder-cone ash is like quicksand. Every step I take forward, my leg sinks up to my knee. The incline is as bad as climbing a ladder. Even with my unnatural strength, I gasp for air and feel as if my heart is going to explode in my chest. The freezing air is devoid of moisture. I drink but my thirst remains. I never imagined I could be so cold and so thirsty at the same time. God do I miss my shirtsleeves.

  Marc stirs. I lean my head back and let him press his cheek to mine. He’s so hot I feel like crying. “Hey, babe, how ya doin’?” I say.

  He coughs. “Are we there yet?”

  “Almost.”

  “Great.”

  “How are you feeling?”

  He coughs some more. “Great.”

  “I’m going to help you. When we get to the cave, I’m going to torture Li if I have to but she’s going to heal you. And if she refuses, I’ll heal you myself.”

  “No.”

  “You’re not going to stop me.”

  “It’s not what I need.” He coughs again; he doesn’t seem able to catch his breath. “You know what I need.”

  “Don’t think of that. We can’t do that here. We need peace, we need quiet, we need to be safe.”

  “You did it and you weren’t safe.”

  “I’m not going to risk your life.”

  He turns his head and kisses my damp cheek. I didn’t know I’d started crying, silly me. I guess I didn’t know how much I loved him. He speaks in a fading whisper.

  “There’s no risk. I’m dying, Jessie. I’m going to die.”

  I want to argue some more but he passes out.

  He suddenly feels so heavy on my back.

  Like the way people are supposed to when they’re dead.

  Please, God, no. Please spare his life. I’ll do anything if you do. Anything. Kill me if you want but save him.

  I keep praying although I’m fairly certain that if there is a God, He’s not the sort who actually answers prayers from everyday people or witches like me. I think of all the billions of people throughout history—and even people I know personally—who have prayed in life-threatening situations, like ours, and not a single one of them has ever been treated to a bona fide miracle.

  Still, it makes me feel better to fix my mind on a higher power. It beats thinking of Marc dying. I love God, I remind myself, I do believe in Him.

  I just don’t know if I trust Him.

  The sun sets in the middle of our final push. But it’s strange, I can’t say exactly when it fell beneath the horizon. It just seemed to wander to the left of the peak and disappear.

  The moon, though, when it rises, is brilliant. It’s big and round and its white light seems to sparkle when it strikes the side of the cinder cone.

  Higher than the moon is the haunting red of the molten peak. It dominates the sky, throwing off red sparks that rise straight up and then slowly curve and fall downward and flame out as they strike the path before us. All along I knew the volcano was active, but I never considered that it might suddenly spew out a shower of lava
and roast us alive. There’s a peculiar rhythm to the spray of sparks. It comes in pulses, like a beating heart, and it makes me wonder if the volcano is alive in some way.

  Definitely, I feel something powerful watching us.

  “There it is!” Sam calls from twenty paces in front of me, pointing. He stops and sets down Chad and lets the rest of us catch up. Kyle also lets go of Li, but I continue to hold on to Marc. He’s still out and I worry he may never awaken.

  Sam is pointing to a black hole a hundred yards above and fifty yards off to our left. Seen from the side, the cave opening is hard to focus on. I blink and lose it for a moment until I blink again. It appears as tall as a man, circular; maybe unnaturally so. I can understand why Sam feels it might have been cut into the side of the cinder cone.

  “What’s our plan?” Kyle asks.

  Sam nods. “We need one. Ten to one either Nordra or Viper is already up here.”

  “Are you sure there’s only one way in?” Kyle asks him.

  Sam shakes his head. “There might be an opening on the inside of the volcano, but unless you can swim through boiling lava, I’d advise against searching for a back door.”

  “If I were Viper and I was waiting to ambush us,” I say, “I’d cloak and hang near the opening but stay outside. No way I’d let myself get cornered inside the cave, not when it’s three against one.”

  “Hey, don’t I count?” Chad complains.

  “Sorry,” I mutter.

  “Good point,” Sam agrees. “The interior of the cave has fresh air but there’s still plenty of hot springs and lots of steam. We’d spot Viper in a second in the steam, cloak or no cloak.”

  “What about Nordra?” Kyle asks.

  “I doubt Nordra would allow himself to get cornered either,” Sam says.

  “I’m not so sure,” I say. “Nordra’s advantage is his size and strength. The cave’s got a narrow opening. If you go by history, it’s always been easier for a small army to defend itself against a large army if it had a narrow pass to defend.”

  Chad pats me on the back in approval. “You’re thinking of the Battle of Thermopylae. When a few hundred Spartans held off a hundred thousand Persians at the pass. That battle strategy could apply here, but only if Nordra believes we’re determined to get inside the cave.”

  “Are we?” Kyle asks.

  “Gimme a break,” I snap. “It was your idea to hike all the way up here in the first place.”

  “It was Sam’s idea!” Kyle complains. “He’s the one who told me how amazing it is inside.”

  “Let’s stop the bickering and make a decision,” Sam replies. “I think Jessie’s right and there’s a good chance Viper’s hanging somewhere near the entrance, cloaked. If that’s the case, we should wait here for the moon to rise higher and shine on the cave. That’ll give us a much better chance of spotting her.”

  “To hell with that,” Kyle growls. “I’m not standing on the side of this freezing sand castle for another hour. I say we suck it up and go over and have a peek inside.”

  They all turn to me, like always, to decide.

  “Ordinarily, I’d agree with Sam,” I reply. “The moonlight’s our best defense against Viper. But Marc’s in bad shape. I’ve got to get him inside and out of the cold. I say we go for it.”

  “Fine,” Sam agrees reluctantly. “But we’ve got to free up our hands if we’re going to fight and the only way we can do that is by leaving Marc, Chad, Li, and Jelanda outside.”

  “No way,” I say. “We did that last time and look what Nordra and Viper did to us. We can’t make the same mistake twice.”

  “She’s got a point,” Kyle says. “Who knows if Nordra’s in front of us or behind us?”

  “Chances are he’s already here, in front of us,” Sam says.

  “I can set Marc down in an instant if I have to,” I say. “As for Chad and Li, they can walk the rest of the way to the cave. And Jelanda . . . I don’t know what to do with her.”

  “I’ll slice her Achilles tendons again and tie her to a boulder outside the cave, no problem,” Kyle says.

  “Then it’s settled,” I say, not happy about his tendon slicing but too worried about Marc to waste time on another argument. “Everyone draw their weapons and scan for any sign of movement. Search the ground for prints. Listen for breathing.” I nod. “Let’s do it.”

  We start for the cave, passing out of the moonlight halfway to the entrance. The sudden dark is unsettling, and as if it senses my fear, the volcano suddenly belches out a shower of red sparks, several of which land only a few feet to our right side. A rumbling starts deep beneath us and the ground seems to shake. The King of the Field, I think, with his burning red crown, knows the climax of the contest is near at hand. I could swear the flashes of fire cannot be a coincidence. The volcano must be alive.

  We stop ten yards shy of the opening, searching for signs of Viper and Nordra, and the ghosts for that matter. There are prints in the ash, but as far as we can tell they were created by a person hiking from the other side of the volcano, who stopped at least thirty yards shy of the cave before reversing direction and walking back the way he came.

  The prints are huge; I’m confident they belong to Nordra. His pattern has always shown a lack of subtlety. He prefers the straight attack, never mind what Cleo told me. Viper’s been the opposite; she’s always snuck up on us. Which makes me fear that she might have brushed away her tracks as she neared the cave.

  All of us, we exchange looks, but there’s nothing to say.

  We need to go forward.

  Up close the circular nature of the cave opening is beyond dispute—it’s ridiculously symmetrical. It looks as if the entrance was cut into the side of the cinder cone using a gigantic drill bit. Since nature doesn’t work with such precision, the entrance to the cave, at least, is artificial.

  We step to the opening and peer inside.

  There’s light. It’s a soft red but it’s enough to see by. We don’t need to light a torch. Nevertheless, Kyle holds up an unlit torch and gestures with his fingers, indicating he wants to light it once we’re inside. In response I point to Jelanda and motion for him to tie her up—now. No way I’m bringing her inside with us.

  Kyle nods and drags her off to a nearby rock, wraps her with multiple layers of vines and cloth, casually slices the heels of her feet wide open, and returns to where we wait.

  He’s taking a terrible risk. If the rest of the ghosts are nearby and suddenly swoop in, they might be able to free their leader. Yet, since we started up from the base of the cinder cone, we’ve lost all sight of them.

  We step inside. The first hundred feet are perfectly circular. The giant drill must have been shoved in deep, I think. Carefully touching the walls with my fingertips, I’m struck by their hard blackness, their smoothness, and their warmth. Already the temperature and humidity have increased dramatically.

  None of us has to search far to see why. Sam was right; the interior’s filled with pools of steaming water and glowing baths of molten lava. We come upon them abruptly, as the narrow entrance expands into a cavern as large as my childhood church.

  An uncluttered gray path leads down the center and the high ceiling has a gentle arc to it, but I couldn’t swear the cavern itself is artificial. The pools of water and lava are haphazardly placed and the walls are riveted with deep grooves; the erosion probably the result of the swirling steam and repeated tremors. Once again I feel as if the ground beneath my feet trembles but it might be my imagination.

  Kyle signals to me with his torch. I nod and he lights it and holds up the bright orange light, which contrasts sharply with the somber red. Chad lights a torch as well and takes a step forward to explore before I grab his arm and give him a sharp look. I want us to stay close together until I’m sure we have the place to ourselves.

  Yet the light from the twin torches is rea
ssuring. They create such a bright glare, I find it hard to believe Viper could be cloaked inside the cave and we couldn’t spot her. The cavern is only two hundred feet deep and half that wide. It doesn’t take us long to explore it, and realize the back wall holds the most fascinating riddles.

  First there’s an icy stream that strangely comes out the base of one wall and mysteriously disappears into the base of another. Then there’re the rows of petroglyphs above the stream, alongside a tall wall of writing.

  The petroglyphs—or images—and the ancient language are two separate things, and yet I’ve seen both before. They are definitely related to the symbols and writing I saw on a wall overlooking a secret pool concealed in a rocky hill in the desert outside Las Vegas. Kendor took me to the spot to swim in the pool and to show me a prophecy that related to my daughter, Lara. Kendor had told me the site had once been considered sacred to the Paleo-Indians who had lived in the area centuries before the white man arrived.

  Gently, I set Marc down against a wall beside the stream and cup a handful of the cold water in my palms and pour it over his head. He stirs and opens his eyes briefly before closing them again. Yet he smiles faintly.

  “More,” he whispers.

  “You can have all you want,” I say, relieved to see him awake. I continue to splash his head and even mange to get him to take a few sips. It’s as if the stream is as magical as the desert pool Kendor took me to. Marc’s fever goes down at least two degrees in the short time I treat him.

  “Obviously this is written in a different language than the plaque,” Kyle says. “But I’d swear the style of writing is the same.”

  Before I can tell them what Kendor told me about the old language, and the petroglyphs, Sam speaks.

  “This language is called Tarora. It’s known only to the oldest of the Tar and it’s directly related to these petroglyphs. My mother taught me a few of the Tarora’s characters when I was a kid but I can’t remember well enough to decipher any of these words. Too bad she’s not here, she could probably translate this entire wall for us.”