by Perrin Briar
But the creature hadn’t shown his face yet, hadn’t graced them with his presence, nor even so much as greeted them with a growl. Bryan didn’t understand why. The meal should have been irresistible to the monster, who hadn’t eaten for the past few days.
“How’s it going?” a sweet voice said.
It was Abigail, leading a retinue of serving men to give the soldiers food and refreshment.
“Nothing yet,” Aaron said. “He should have come by now. I know I would have, if I was a mindless eating machine. Oh, are those lemon cakes?”
Aaron tucked into them, picking up two in each hand.
“Leave some for the guards,” Bryan said, shaking his head.
“There’s more than enough for everyone to eat,” Abigail said.
“Luckily,” Bryan said. “For everyone else.”
Aaron chuckled around a mouthful of lemon cake, the crumbs spilling from his lips.
There was a roar. It echoed from deep within the cave catacombs.
The lemon cake froze halfway to Aaron’s mouth. He turned deathly pale. Clearly the memory of being chased through the caves by the dinosaur was still fresh in his mind. It was still fresh in Bryan’s too, but he wasn’t about to let it stop him from wiping the beast from the face of the Earth, or the under-Earth, as the case may be.
Bryan wasn’t the only one to turn silent. The servers who’d brought the food had turned white as a ghost, and even the guards, who seemed as hardy as they came, clutched their weapons tight, not in an aggressive stance, but one requiring support.
Bryan was struck by a sudden lack of confidence. Would these men, who had grown up with the fear of the dragon, be able to do what was needed when the time came? To look the dragon in the eye and shove their spears into its heart? Or would they run away, scared and afraid, into the night? There was no doubt in his mind: they would turn and run.
A man was only as brave as his experiences. A man used to darkness could be brave with no light, another accustomed to the roar of great beasts could walk through a pride of lions undisturbed. But a man used to stories of a demon that resided in a cave could not stand against it.
The roars from the caves died down, and the guards returned to their vigil. They stared at the ground and did not eat their cakes and drink.
“How’s the town?” Bryan said.
“It’s fine,” Abigail said. “They’re all nervous, worried you might cause the monster to be angry and attack us. The nobles are glad you’re doing this, that you might put it down for good. Not that they would ever admit that.”
“Of course not,” Bryan said. “That would be too easy.”
As a businessman he knew what people were like. They were generally good and kind hearted, but they could also be very selfish. They were quick to blame, to point the finger, even if the culprit was really themselves.
“It has to come out of there at some point,” Bryan said. “It’s just a matter of time.”
“Time,” Abigail said. “It’s always about time, isn’t it?”
“Time always plays a factor somehow,” Bryan said.
A wagon piled with scorched bodies trundled along a rough path. Just as Bryan had predicted, there had been a massive influx of bodies, no doubt in reaction to the destruction of the magma world they had inhabited. Bryan had been right, and it had drawn nervous consternation from the townsfolk.
Still, they looked upon the floating bodies as their only salvation. They wanted to pick them up and drop them off at the cave for the monster to consume. It was a tried and tested solution to their problem, and they did not like to change it, even if it was for the best, a solution to their problem for the rest of their lives.
The locals didn’t really believe the previous world—hell, in their minds—had really been destroyed, but their eyes goggled when they set eyes upon the burnt feathers of the giant Humungo birds that washed up on the surface of the lake. They had never seen such a beast before. Several of the locals performed a strange little dance, brushing themselves off, turning in a circle, and spitting. It was to dispel bad luck and spirits, Abigail said.
Then, when half a dozen giant snakes emerged, the locals believed the apocalypse was upon them, that the demons of hell were about to descend. There was no telling the locals they were just animals from another world. They had made up their minds and were blind to the truth. It was infuriating. They buried the bodies in giant pits—one for the human bodies, another for the creatures.
The church bell rang.
A voice shouted something from the top of the tower. The distance was too great for Bryan to hear. The ringing seemed different to what was used for when the dragon attacked. That had been a high shrill sound. This was a different rhythm: two taps, followed by a pause. It was repeated over and over. It was smart for the locals to design an intricate system of communication.
“What is he shouting?” Bryan said.
“Murder,” Abigail said. “There’s been a murder.”
The same thought passed between them: while they were watching these cave entrances, was there another one they weren’t aware of, that the dragon had used to escape and enter the town?
The blood drained from Bryan’s face. Had his plan cost someone’s life?
31.
THEY HAD to wait at the front entrance before the gates were opened. Five minutes is an agonizingly long time when forced to wait. When your loved ones were inside the town. When there had been a murder and you don’t know who the victim was.
The gates opened, revealing pandemonium. People ran riot, not knowing what they were doing or where they were going.
Bryan dismounted and handed the reins to one of the guards. He pushed through the crowd, grunting when someone ran into him.
He came to group of people standing around. They glanced at Bryan as he pushed through them. They turned their eyes from him. Bryan’s insides turned to water.
Something was wrong.
Was it Zoe or Cassie who had been hurt? Had the locals felt so aggrieved with Bryan’s plan that they would act with violence against his family?
Bryan pushed harder through the crowd. The people saw him and began to move aside. Then he came to the wide clearing in the center.
There were a dozen guards, doing their best to block the view of a body lying on the ground, but failing. There was blood, spread like a finger painting by a child.
“What happened here?” Bryan said. “What happened?”
“Murder,” a bystander said. “Murdered in cold blood.”
He said it in a tone of voice that made it clear this was not a common occurrence in the town of Silene.
Bryan stared at the unmoving body. It wasn’t Cassie, nor Zoe. It was Cynthia, the loud-voiced woman from the hall meetings. Her face was twisted in a mask of shock.
Peering around, with the locals eyeballing Bryan the way they were, it was clear at whose feet they placed the blame.
32.
THE GREAT HALL was crammed. Every member of town was present. A meeting had been called, an impromptu affair. None of the chairs and tables had been set out as they had during feast days.
The people milled, mumbling with folded arms to angry neighbors. Bryan sensed a strong atmosphere of discontent. The locals eyed him and his family as they took their place on the stage.
Bryan didn’t entirely understand what was going on. These were essentially the middle ages. Did they still hang people? Or cut off their heads? There was a fiery anger and hate in their eyes that he had rarely seen.
“Silence, please,” Lord Maltese said.
The people quietened down.
“Today we have suffered a great tragedy,” Lord Maltese said. “Cynthia Morris, one of our number, was brutally slain in the street, by someone armed with a cloak and dagger. Who would commit such a crime, and for what reason, to an innocent bystander, is anyone’s guess. But the police and my guards are working together to find the perpetrator.”
“It was the evil spirits!” M
ontgomery said. “We angered the monster and he sent spirits here to do his bidding!”
“‘He’s an animal,” Lord Maltese said. “He doesn’t bid, doesn’t do anything any other animal can’t do.”
“Hidden in shadow, he was,” another local said, apparently present at the murder when it’d happened. “Wearing the darkness and shadows as a cape!”
“Wearing a black cape,” Lord Maltese said. “Not shadows and darkness. Though we can say the killer certainly had darkness in his heart. The police are conducting an investigation and I’m confident we will find the murderer.”
“What are we all pussy footing around for?” Montgomery said with folded arms. “We all know who’s responsible for this.”
“Their plan caused poor Cynthia’s murder!” a fearful local said. “I’d rather it was their blood than any of ours! I say we sacrifice them before another one of us has to die!”
“Yeah!” the crowd said.
“We didn’t want anyone to die!” Zoe said, stepping forward. “It’s the last thing we wanted to happen. And who knows, this might have happened anyway, no matter what we tried to do with the monster.”
But the crowd—the mob, really—was not appeased. They wanted blood. Suddenly Bryan realized how dangerous their situation was. At least if a monster was after you it didn’t smile at you through its teeth. It was honest with its intentions. It was out to eat you, to feed upon your flesh.
Now, the townsfolk’s mask had slipped. They had pretended to be the family’s friends when they first arrived, but now they wanted their blood. The people had judged them once again on the result, and not the objective, what it was they were trying to achieve, to make the world a better, safer place. Instead, the locals were intent on crucifying them.
There was only one man who could save them, one man who could get the locals to calm down, relax. Bryan turned to the lord and his family.
“Please,” Bryan mouthed. “Help us.”
He thought he caught sight of a small smile on the lord’s lips, one that did not look entirely accommodating.
But the lord got to his feet, and set his shirt collar and sleeves straight. He was enjoying himself, getting comfortable for what he was about to say. He looked up and addressed the crowd.
“This is not anyone’s fault,” Lord Maltese said. “Did any member of this family wield a knife? Did they attack the victim? Of course not. Bryan and Aaron were outside the town at the time, working to protect us, all of us. Zoe and Cassie were with Jeffrey, working on his designs. I myself can attest to that. They aren’t responsible.
“Are farmers responsible for the bad weather if the crops they planted die? Of course not. Should we have trusted a stranger and his family? Yes, we should. We didn’t care who they were. We made the decision to listen to them, to want to do what they wanted, and not care about the outcome. Because it was worth it. To rid the world of the dragon forever? It was a good plan, but it just didn’t work out, that’s all. And here we stand, ready to kill them for it.
“This is a tragedy, no doubt about it. We should focus on finding the perpetrator so we can get on with our lives and get on with what we’re doing, with developing and making our future brighter.”
The locals didn’t seem very sated, their anger still plain on their faces. But they broke, and the mob began to disperse and head out the door.
“What do we do now?” Zoe said. “I’m not sure I feel very comfortable with all these people here, wanting to kill us.”
“Don’t go anywhere by yourself,” Bryan said. “No one goes out by themselves, under any circumstances.”
The dragon was no longer their greatest threat.
33.
THE FUNERAL was a sad, dour affair, at total odds with the one in the previous world where it had been normal to burn bodies in pits of red hot magma. Here, it was more akin to what happened up on the surface, with a priest reading from a Bible over the body of the dead, family and friends gathered around.
They were in the church’s graveyard, a pretty spot that backed up to a small grove of trees. There were many other tombstones here, dating back several centuries. Several were clearly very recent, the soil of the graves still visible where the grass had not yet grown through.
Everyone wore black, matching their sad expressions. The murder had come as a shock. The victim had been a baker’s assistant, Bryan learned from the eulogy. Her rolls were the envy of the whole town. Her secret recipe would be buried with her.
The undertaker began shoveling dirt on the casket. The crowd began to disperse, filtering off in various directions. The family left too, heading their own way.
“We were close to trapping the monster too,” Bryan said. “If we could have waited just a little longer, a few more days, we would have had him. I’m sure of it.”
“Hm,” Zoe said.
Bryan looked at Zoe. She was wearing a frown.
“What is it?” Bryan said.
“It’s the murder,” Zoe said. “What are the odds it would happen right then of all times? Right when you were there, trying to catch the monster?”
“You’re saying it was used as a distraction?” Bryan said.
“Yes,” Zoe said. “At least, it is a possibility, don’t you think?”
“Yes,” Bryan said. “It is certainly that.”
“It makes more sense, now I think about it,” Zoe said. “No natural creature could breathe fire the way it does. It was designed. We know that. But who designed it?”
“You think someone here designed it?” Bryan said.
“What other explanation can there be?” Zoe said. “How else can a dinosaur breathe fire? And someone put that metal shield on its back. I’m betting the person who did that was the same person who murdered Cynthia.”
“Why would someone do that?” Bryan said.
“To stop us searching the caves,” Zoe said.
“You’re saying there’s something in there someone here is willing to murder for?” Bryan said.
“Yes,” Zoe said. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. Who knows, it might even be the Passage they’re trying to keep hidden.”
“It seems to me you’re talking about the same thing,” Cassie said. “We want to find the Passage. If we’re right, and Cynthia was murdered in order to distract us from capturing the monster, then if we can find the murderer…”
“We also find the person responsible for the dragon,” Zoe said. “Ingenious.”
“In that case, isn’t it obvious who did the murder?” Aaron said.
The others turned to look at him. Aaron checked over his shoulders in case someone was close enough to hear, but they were alone.
“There’s only one person here capable of making the technology the T-Rex now wears,” Aaron said.
“Who?” Zoe said.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Aaron said.
Zoe ran the evidence through her mind, her eyes widening at Aaron’s thought process and the conclusion he must have come to.
“No,” she said. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am serious,” Aaron said. “Can you think of anyone else who might be capable of designing such advanced technology?”
“But he’s not capable!” Zoe said. “You’ve seen him!”
“It could all be an act,” Bryan said. “The perfect camouflage. To disguise himself as a bumbling idiot genius.”
“But he’s shown his hand,” Zoe said. “His skills betray him. It’s Jeffrey!”
34.
“JEFFREY?” Lord Maltese said. “Our inventor, Jeffrey? We’re talking about the same person? You can’t be serious. He wouldn’t hurt a fly!”
“He did hurt a fly once,” Abigail said. “I was there. I saw him do it.”
“It’s a figure of speech,” Lord Maltese said, rolling his eyes.
“I don’t care,” Abigail said, pursing her lips. “It’s true. He did hurt a fly once.”
“I, for one, am not surprised,” Roland said. “He always seemed
a bit fishy to me.”
“But where is your evidence?” Lady Maltese said. “And even if he is guilty, he already lives like a hermit. What else can we do to him? Taking away his workshop will harm us more than it does him. We would only be hurting ourselves.”
“So we’re supposed to just let him get away with it?” Lord Maltese said. “Because he’s of use to the town? He shouldn’t be punished if it turns out he is responsible for Cynthia’s death?”
“No one would have to know about it,” Lady Maltese said. “We could keep it between ourselves. Then he could carry on doing what he does.”
“And murdering other innocent people,” Lord Maltese said. “No. The people must have justice, whatever form that takes.”
“This is all academic,” Lady Maltese said. “Until we speak with him and either he confesses or the police discover the evidence for themselves.”
“Why haven’t they figured out it was Jeffrey too?” Aaron said.
“Because they’re approaching it as police investigators investigating a crime,” Bryan said. “We’re looking at it from the outside. Whether Jeffrey is responsible for it or not there’s no denying the fact he must be responsible for what was done to the T-Rex. I’m betting that before he came along, the T-Rex never had the ability to breathe fire, did he?”
“No,” Lord Maltese said. “At least, I don’t think so.”
“Should we go to the police?” Zoe said.
“No,” Lord Maltese said. “What you say makes sense, assuming any of it is true. But he has become a friend of the family. The least we can do is confront him in person before we contact the authorities. I wouldn’t want to undermine our friendship now.”
The lord stood up.
“Come on then,” he said. “Let’s get this over with.”
