Chapter 32 The Cave
Luc groaned and hauled himself to his feet, swaying weakly as blood ran from the wounds in his chest.
“It… followed you…,” he rasped, picking up his sword. The metal screeched over the stone, its steel dull, its whispers silent. Empty of Arcana. “Stay… back!”
“You’re in no shape to fight!” Rolan shouted, holding up his relic. He could hear the thing, but he couldn’t see it well. The cave was too dark and the relic’s light too dim.
“We need light!” Luc gasped out, swinging his sword.
He deflected a dark claw just as it snaked out of the darkness at him.
But the blow made him stumble backward, his back colliding hard with the cave’s wall.
As far as fighting conditions went, these were terrible.
They were trapped in here, on uneven ground, nearly completely blind, with a huge, angry Cryptic.
The thing had to be a Rank Four. It was even bigger than the monster Rolan had bumped into on his first ill-considered foray into the woods.
Remembering the torches stored in Luc’s cache, Rolan fumbled his way deeper into the cave. He couldn’t very well help Luc if he couldn’t even see what he was fighting. He had to hope the Arcanist would hold out long enough for Rolan to help.
He found the cache, dumping out crates until he saw the length of a torch. Then he took the flint and striker from his belt and struggled to make a spark.
“C’mon, c’mon, you stupid—ugh!”
Twice, thrice, four times he struck and nothing happened. Behind him he heard the Cryptic screech, the sound echoing back on itself at a bloodcurdling pitch.
“LIGHT!” Luc shouted jaggedly.
“I’m trying!” Rolan cried. “I’m—”
A spark!
It fell onto the torch’s oiled head, and the cloth bundle roared with flame.
Rolan snatched up the torch and spun around, waving it high.
What he saw made his tongue shrivel backward and try to slide down his throat like a salted slug.
The Cryptic was enormous, with a bulky build that reminded him of a badger, if a badger shaved off all its fur and put on scale armor.
It had a thick tail that ended in calloused lumps of bone, thick enough to pulverize a person with one blow.
The half-moon claws were as long as swords, six each per massive, scaled leg.
Definitely a Rank Four.
It slammed its claws into the cave walls again and again, trying to turn Luc into jelly.
And it would, Rolan feared, if even one of those blows struck home.
The Arcanist was clumsy and slow, his wounds clearly having drained his strength.
He didn’t so much as dodge the monster’s attacks as he stumbled away from them.
Rolan’s ribs seemed to knit together, squeezing the air from his lungs. Luc must have fought this Cryptic already, gotten seriously wounded, and retreated to the cave to rest and heal.
And Rolan had led it straight to him.
“HEY!” he yelled, waving the torch. “Over here, ugly! Look at me! I’m a tasty little snack, huh? Come take a bite!”
“No,” Luc gasped out. “Get out!”
Rolan wondered how Luc imagined he would do that, given the massive Cryptic blocking the way.
He also wondered what in truth he was thinking, luring the monster’s attention to himself. Because it worked. The Cryptic’s heavy head swung his way.
“Yikes!” Rolan grimaced in disgust.
A single, enormous eye glared at him from the center of the creature’s forehead. It was entirely black and lidless, rimmed with pale spikes. The long, tapered snout glittered with fangs that curled over its lips and flung spittle when it hissed.
“Whew, you are ugly,” Rolan said.
The Cryptic pounced.
Rolan went limp, dropping the torch.
He had no idea if jelly bones would work against a monster the size of a barn, but it was the only plan his brain could think of. He folded like an empty grain sack, transforming from terrified boy to terrified puddle.
Astonishingly, the Cryptic paused.
It stared at him as if bewildered, then prodded him with its nose, snuffling like a pig after truffles. Rolan lay very still, his heart beating wildly in his chest, his tongue struggling to contain the moan of dread that bubbled in his throat.
Even Luc look stunned, frozen to Rolan’s left.
The monster’s head was so close now that its large, insect-like eye hovered just over Rolan’s belly. His hand tightened around his dagger. If he thrust upward fast enough—
The Cryptic roared.
Its mouth stretched to its full size, a rain of venomous spit plastering Rolan from head to toe. Its upper fangs gleamed inches from Rolan’s eyes, while its monstrous, quivering tongue dragged across his chest.
Luc surged toward him, one hand wrapped around his bleeding torso, the other dragging his sword. He swung wildly, scoring a deep wound across the Cryptic’s neck.
It swung its head toward him, still roaring.
“Get out of here, boy!”
“How?” Rolan cried, scrambling to his feet. Funny how his wounds, which had felt incapacitating on his walk to Luc’s house, suddenly felt as significant as ant bites.
Luc stood over Rolan and faced the Cryptic. It gathered itself, preparing to pounce. Luc spread his feet, gripping his sword with one hand. With the other, he picked up the torch Rolan had dropped. But Rolan could see the tremble in the big man’s limbs. The blood dripping from his hands.
“When I say run,” panted the Arcanist, “run.”
“We’ll run together, right?”
“Together.”
Rolan nodded, his pulse drumming in his ears. He wondered if the Cryptic would be a good sport and give him time to throw up before it attacked.
It didn’t.
It surged forward with another ear-blistering shriek.
“RUN!” Luc roared as he hurled the torch into the Cryptic’s eye.
Rolan burst forward, charging directly at the monster while every instinct in his body screamed at him to run the other way. The Cryptic roared in pain and swished its tail, claws raking down the walls.
Without slowing, Rolan threw himself into a slide, skimming over the rock under the monster’s belly.
He looked up at the scales whizzing overhead, his eyes seizing on the dark swirl of the aleth at the creature’s center.
His hand went to his knife, but before he could even draw it, the Cryptic turned, and the opportunity was lost.
Gritting his teeth, Rolan stumbled back to his feet and pelted for the cave’s exit.
“We’re almost there!” he yelled. “Luc!”
He looked back, then faltered, tripping over a rock and crashing to the hard ground.
Luc wasn’t behind him.
“Truth!” Rolan swore.
Of course Luc wasn’t behind him. He’d never intended to be. He was just buying time for Rolan to escape, and like a fool, Rolan had fallen for it.
“LUC!”
He could see nothing of the Arcanist in the dark. The Cryptic must have stomped on the torch, extinguishing its light. It thrashed its tail and bellowed its fury in the black of the cave, and Rolan had no idea if his master was still alive in there or not.
He was debating going back when the Cryptic snapped at him.
“Agh!” Rolan threw himself to the side, barely saving his head from being bitten off his shoulders. A spray of saliva splashed over his face as the monster’s jaws clacked shut in the air where he’d been standing.
It had turned itself around—and was chasing him.
Did that mean it had finished Luc off?
A sob of despair knotting in his throat, Rolan turned and sprinted out of the cave, falling twice to his knees and scraping them bloody. When he reached the forest, he tripped over a root and went sprawling again, this time feeling a burst of pain in his knee.
Flipping over, he backed away on all fours, scrabbling over the mud.
The Cryptic burst from the cave with a mighty roar, its jaw open wide enough to crush a building between its teeth. Rolan cried out, raising a hand in pitiful defense. The Cryptic raised one massive claw, preparing to crush Rolan to pieces—
Then Luc’s sword came swinging out of the dark, wheeling tip over hilt, to impale the monster through the back and slide out the other side—directly through the Cryptic’s core.
With a grunt, the monster toppled backward, crashing into the rock face of the hill. It gave a long, low groan… and then it was gone.
The huge body crumbled into smoke, its final roar still rippling through the trees, outliving its maker.
Rolan gasped and collapsed onto the forest floor, sucking down buckets of damp, mossy air. His chest rose and fell like a bellows, every breath a ragged wheeze.
Then, after several minutes of being startled at his own aliveness, he began to laugh.
“We made it,” he whispered. Then louder, “We made it!”
When no reply came, he pushed himself up onto his elbows.
“Luc?”
Then he saw it—the cave’s mouth.
Or rather, the heap of rock that had been the cave’s mouth.
The Cryptic’s death throes had sent it crashing into the stony hillside, bringing down a rockslide that had completely covered the entrance.
And there was no sign of Luc.
“No,” Rolan choked out. “No no no!”
He stumbled and crawled his way back to the cave, pulling at the boulders. But there was no chance of budging them. No chance of freeing his master.
“I—I’ll go back to the city,” he stammered. “Get help…”
But he knew it was useless. Who would come to save the Arcanist? Likely the people would throw a celebration. They were finally rid of the monster who stole all their secrets.
Even if Rolan did find someone to help—the duke, perhaps, could send his guards—they’d be too late.
He’d seen the wounds on Luc’s chest. Even if they weren’t infected with Cryptic venom, they’d be enough to kill the Arcanist within hours.
And that wasn’t counting any new wounds he’d taken bringing down the Cryptic and getting caught in the rockslide.
He could already be dead.
“No,” Rolan snarled. “It was my fault the Cryptic found him! I have to get him out!”
He looked around, inhaling sharply when he spotted the telltale blue glow.