When he opened his eyes, nothing had changed. Grimacing, he rose to his feet. He supposed there was nothing left but to resume his search pattern until he ran out of food and water. Stepping back into the void, he counted paces once more.
He nearly jumped out of his shoes when he heard the yelp.
Chapter 18
Peter recognized the filthy dog instantly. He’d seen the poor creature before, when he’d fought the dragon in the village square. He relaxed and lowered his sword. He put his hand out. The shepherd took a cautious step forward and sniffed the back of Peter’s hand at length. After giving the dog a moment to acclimate, Peter patted it on the head.
“Good doggy!” He looked closer. “Good boy! How’d you get down here?”
The dog just wagged its tail at him and panted excitedly, but an idea formed in Peter’s head.
“Can you help me find the others?” he asked, certain the dog wouldn’t understand him.
But the dog barked excitedly at him and trotted off. Figuring he had nothing to lose, Peter followed him. In short order, he heard a woman’s voice crying for help.
“We’re coming, Faith!” he replied.
“Peter!” she called back.
He saw her in the fog. She ran to him, and he wrapped his arms around her. She returned the embrace, squeezing him hard and burying her face on his chest. Her strength surprised him, but her grip loosened as she slowly relaxed.
“It’s alright,” he told her. “I’ve found you.”
“Nicolette’s gone!” she cried. The tension returned to her squeeze.
“Don’t worry,” Peter comforted her. He squeezed her back. “We’ll find her, like we found you.”
“We?” she asked. She let go. As she wiped the tears from her eyes, her eyes turned to the dog for the first time.
“Yup. Me and Benny. Well, mostly Benny.”
“Benny?”
“Well, he hasn’t told me his name. So I’ve named him Benedict.”
“Benedict?”
“Yeah. Like the Pope. My other German Shepherd.”
Faith let out a fit of giggles. Peter recognized it as the kind of laughter you get when something isn’t truly funny, but stress makes it feel that way. He grinned at her and joined the laughter.
“That’s the dorkiest thing I’ve ever heard,” she told him.
“Now you’re hurting his feelings.” Peter tried to look offended, but he couldn’t quite keep the grin off his face. Neither could he keep the humor out of his voice. “Tell Benny you’re sorry.” As if on cue, the dog lay down and whimpered.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“She doesn’t mean it, Benny.”
The dog whined again, rolled over on his back, and presented his belly. His face turned sad and pathetic. Faith shot Peter a dirty look, but she couldn’t play it straight, either. The giggles returned, and she finally caved to the dog.
“I’m sorry, Benny,” she told him. She dropped to a knee and rubbed his belly. The shepherd ate it up.
“Can you help us find Nicolette?” Peter asked.
The dog woofed again, rose, and led the way. In short order they found the terrified French girl. Nicolette jumped up and down when she saw the dog, clapping her hands and squealing in delight. Benny returned the affection, licking all over her face as the little girl hugged him. The dirt caked into his fur left stains all over Nicolette’s face, shirt, and arms, but she either didn’t notice or didn’t care.
Nicolette walked beside Benedict, holding tight to his fur as the huge dog led them through the void to Father Quentin. They found the priest shaking nervously, rocking back and forth on his knees, eyes closed, as he prayed. At first he didn’t notice them. Peter stopped everyone and shushed them, allowing the man a moment to finish. But his prayers went on for some time.
At last Benedict grew impatient. The dog trotted forward and licked Quentin across the nose. The Frenchman let out a little yelp and skittered backward in terror. When he opened his eyes and saw the dog, he let out a relieved laugh. Soon they all joined in.
“Now what?” Faith asked.
“Now we find our way up to the surface,” Peter answered.
“Up to the surface?” Quentin asked. “We can’t even find our way out of here!”
“Leave that to Benny,” Peter said. The dog woofed in agreement.
“The dog?” Quentin shook his head. Benny growled at him. He stepped back in fright. “OK, we’ll leave it to the dog!”
Peter scooped up Nicolette and placed her on his broad shoulders. She giggled in joy.
“Hold on tight,” he told her, relying on Faith to translate.
As they followed the sniffing Benedict into the void, the light began to fade. The pale blue darkened into a deep midnight shade; then disappeared entirely. Soon only the Sword lit their way through the black space. Then empty gloom became the dark shadows of cave walls.
“Who’s a good boy? The dog danced excitedly before Peter as the young knight patted its head. “Benny’s a good boy! Yes he is!” He dug a protein bar out of his gear. If Benedict had been excited before, he went positively insane as Peter peeled back the wrapper. “Sit!” Peter commanded. The hyperactive dog sat, wagging his tail so hard he almost fell over. Nicolette giggled as he devoured the snack in three fast gulps.
Peter led and illuminated the way as they followed him down the passage. It twisted and turned, but it never deviated - and he quickly noted that it always took them upward. The air seemed crisper and drier. It even smelled cleaner. For the first time that night, he felt that fate had gone in their direction.
Hope quickened Peter’s pace. The combined weight of his gear and Nicolette seemed to lessen as the air freshened around them. Faith seemed to feel it, too. She almost danced beside him. He liked her aura of joy. It suited her. Even Quentin picked up his pace, relaxing as they walked.
They burst out of the tunnel into a new cavern. Far smaller than the cavern that held Faith’s prison, it still loomed over them. But a new glint caught Peter’s eye and brought a new hope. He pointed upward.
“Starlight!” he called out.
Far above them an opening in the rock led to the sky above. Faith jumped up and down and clapped like a little girl. Peter couldn’t see, but it felt like Nicolette did a little dance on his shoulders.
“How do we get to it?” Faith asked.
“We can’t.” The sullen priest put a damper on their mood. “This is Peluda’s passage. He flies in and out as a dragon. There’s no way to climb to it. That way leads back down to his pit.” Quentin pointed to a gaping chasm off to their left.
“There must be some other way out of here,” Peter insisted.
“Out of here? Yes. But not outside.” Quentin pointed toward the other side of the chamber. “There’s a tunnel over there that leads up into the church. It’s how I got down here the first time.”
“Good,” Peter said. “That’s where we need to be anyway.”
Quentin sighed. “I knew you would say that.”
“Lead the way.”
The priest nodded and they followed him. They made it halfway across the room before the dragon attacked.
Chapter 19
Peter pushed the girls out of the way as the dragon's sharp, pointed quills let loose and shot across the cave at them. “I didn't know it could do that!” he shouted. “Did you know it could do that?” he asked Quentin. The trembling priest shook his head in the negative.
He returned his attention to evading the dragon. Peter felt the heat of dragonfire blaze over his head. The intensity told him that he’d barely ducked under the raging inferno in time.
He rolled sideways three times, trying to get plenty of space. Feeling the heat dissipate, he allowed his final roll to bring him into a sprinter’s starting position. He pushed off the ground, shouting and hollering, ready to grab the dragon’s attention and keep its focus away from his companions.
That part of the plan went well. Peter saw the bea
st’s head jerk toward him. His heart leapt into his throat as it looked him straight in the eye. He’d gotten its attention alright.
The rest of the plan fell apart when he slipped on his own sweat as he tried to rise. Things went downhill from there. His knee hit a protruding rock, sending a jolt of sharp pain up his leg. It didn’t feel broken, but he didn’t have time to examine it. He scrambled to the side as the dragon approached. Peluda’s manic laughter echoed through the chamber.
When Peter finally found his footing he also found that he’d lost precious time. The beast closed in on him again. A gurgling noise from its gullet warned him of another burst of dragonflame. He pushed to the side, using one of the giant stalagmites as cover.
It worked - barely.
The flame singed the hairs off his arms when it came, and the pour of sweat he’d slipped on before became a deluge. Even the stone at his back radiated heat. He couldn’t hold his position. Two or three more blasts like that and he’d roast like a turkey - if the rock protrusion behind him didn’t melt first.
Peter chose another of the rock spikes and made a run for it. The sputtering noise behind him gave him extra motivation. He barely slid in behind his new cover in time. It held up better than the previous shield, but only just. He needed a better answer.
He took a moment to survey the room more closely. His eyes didn’t help. The dragonfire had killed his night vision, rendering him nearly blind. He did manage to catch Faith and Quentin darting to safety across the other side of the cavern. He hoped they had Nicolette with them, but he couldn’t be certain.
The charging dragon sent another wave of incendiary halitosis his way. He ducked back behind the rock almost too late. But this time, he squeezed his eyes shut. Even so, the afterimage of burning flame seared his eyes.
The outcropping must’ve been something similar to the invisible walls he’d skirted in his ethereal banishment. He hunkered down behind the stone and waited for the Peluda to hit it with one more blast. When it came, the heat threatened to overwhelm him. He wondered if he’d made the right call.
But the heat passed, and when it did he was ready. He ran for everything he was worth, making a course that would’ve sent him careening straight into the rock wall. When he heard the dragon preparing again, he adjusted. His correction had the dual effect of dodging the dragonfire and pointing him exactly where he wanted to go - behind the formation.
But the shaggy beast shifted his aim to follow. Peter ducked and dodged, zigging left and zagging right. Somehow he managed to keep the dragon’s aim from catching up to him.
Peter caught his foot on a crack in the floor. He smacked down to the ground. His jujitsu training kicked in and took the worst out of the fall, but he still landed hard. The impact jarred his whole body. By pure luck, it also brought him under the spray of flame. But the dragon adjusted its aim downward. Peter rolled to his back, bringing his arms over his face in a completely futile but instinctive covering gesture. He closed his eyes against the intense light.
The flame sputtered out. The beast reared to a stop, sucking in another giant breath and preparing for the next strike. The sudden respite caught Peter off guard, but he didn’t hesitate long. He scrambled the last few feet and finally found solid cover behind a giant stalagmite.
Peter pressed his back hard against the rock wall, leaning on it for support as he struggled to catch his breath. The cold stone felt wonderful as it sapped the excess heat from his body. But he knew he couldn’t rest long.
Five glorious breaths later, the clang of dragon claws on stone told him he’d already run out of time. The sound came from his right, so he made his way leftward around the rock wall. A snarl behind him confirmed that he’d chosen the right direction.
“I’ve been looking forward to our rematch ever since you nicked me with that little toothpick in the New World,” the Peluda called out behind him. “You look tasty.”
“As have I,” Peter answered seriously as he circled the beast. “I could use a good pair of boots.”
The dragon roared and rounded the corner, but Peter had already ducked away. He dodged and ducked, trying to stay one step ahead of the beast.
“I was weak then. You will not get away so easily this time.”
“Yeah. Weakened by a human. How’d that feel?”
Peter kept his pace up, darting from cover to cover as the beast raged behind him. He knew he wouldn’t survive a head on confrontation. Taunting the demon seemed to be having the desired effect, though. He could hear his sensei’s voice in his head: Anger keeps your opponent stupid. He desperately needed his opponent to stay stupid.
He rounded a turn, hoping to find some kind of nook he could hide in for a moment. Instead, he almost ran straight into the Peluda’s right nostril. It reared up; eyes alight as it laughed at him and prepared for the strike.
The dragon stopped as suddenly as Peter had stumbled onto it. As if listening, it cocked its head to the left. The beast's shaggy, quilled body turned to follow. It let out a wail of anger.
Peter ignored the cry and seized his opportunity. He brought the Sword down in a clean strike to slice into the tendons on the dragon’s rear leg. The leg vanished into the air as the dragon leapt skyward. Instead of striking home, his blow only nicked the beast’s tail.
Peter opened his water bottle, desperate for a drink. His chest heaved with exertion as he panted. Faith and Nicolette came out of hiding to stand beside him. After a short delay, Quentin slunk out behind them.
“It does bleed,” Peter noted.
“And if it bleeds, we can kill It.”
Peter flashed her a dorky grin. He had to admit, the girl knew her movies.
“Of course.” Quentin interrupted them. “I should've seen it from the original records.”
“Seen what?” Faith asked him.
“Don't you get it? When they bound the dragon here, they pinned it.”
Suddenly Peter understood. “They pinned it by the only part where they could hurt it.”
“Its tail,” Quentin agreed.
Chapter 20
“Not much further,” Quentin told them. Peter and Faith trudged behind him. Nicolette clung tightly to Faith’s hand. Everyone stayed at arm's length from Peter. He felt eternally grateful for that, as he desperately needed the cool cave air. He still dripped sweat everywhere. He wondered if the girls kept their distance for his sake or because of the smell.
He’d drained the last of his water dry and still wanted more. He felt a little lightheaded and worried that he might be suffering from the early stages of heat exhaustion from the dragon's flames. If he’d had time to worry about it, he’d have curled up on the cold stone. Under normal circumstances, that might lead to worries of hypothermia. Right now, it sounded like a little slice of heaven.
He’d stripped off his shirt to help him cool off. It helped, but now his gear rig rubbed against his shoulders and back. He ignored it, but he’d probably get some burns from it. On the other hand, he kind of liked the way Faith kept staring at his chest. But he couldn’t quite follow up. Every time he tried to wink at her, she turned away before he could catch her eye.
“That’s a cute shade of red,” he finally told her with a smile. Even in the dim light of the Sword he could see the blush creep up her face.
“What?” she stammered back at him. “I have no idea what you’re talking about!” With her face turned away, he could barely hear her.
His grin grew wider.
“It’s OK. The extra light is helpful.”
The color on her cheeks deepened. “The glare off your chest should really help, then!” she shot back.
“I put extra oil on just for that effect!” Peter retorted.
Her dumbfounded stare gradually turned to laughter as she relaxed.
“Speaking of lights,” Quentin interrupted, “why don’t we have some?”
“What you mean,” Faith said with her own smile, “is what kind of idiot goes spelunking without lights?”
He waved the Sword around for emphasis. And to confirm his story, he produced a flashlight. A few clicks of the button proved it non-operational. “I changed the batteries out, too. No dice.”
“Huh,” Faith managed, clearly disturbed by the news.
Quentin frowned and shook his head. “This way!” he pointed. The passage forked before them. The priest led them down the right hand tunnel. “There’s a stone up ahead that blocks the way. From the other side, it looks like part of the rock wall on the unfinished basement. It’s huge, but it rolls away. There should be a steel pry bar there.”
They found the massive rock, just as he had described. But no amount of searching could locate the pry bar. Peter even jogged a few dozen yards back the way they’d come, just to see if they’d missed it on their journey. He came back with nothing, shaking his head.
“How are we going to get through?” Faith asked. This time she kept the panic out of her voice. The expression she gave Peter conveyed her total belief that he’d solve the problem.
He pondered the rock for a moment. Then he detached all his gear, leaving it in a pile on the rocky ground. A crack in the stone beneath him provided a good hold for the hilt of the Sword, which it lit the entire cavern in a soft white glow. He found a good hold on one upper corner of the massive stone, gripped it tight, sunk his feet into the floor beneath him, and gave a great push.
Much to his surprise, he actually felt the stone move. The end closest to him lifted slightly off the ground. He guessed he’d moved it about half an inch before his strength gave out. When he relaxed, it settled right back into the position it had occupied before, leaving him no closer to his goal. On the other hand, he hadn’t expected to move it at all.
“It’s lighter than I expected,” he told the others. “But still too heavy for me to budge on my own.”
“We’ll help,” Faith declared.
Vigil: An Urban Fantasy Thriller Page 8
