Then Hell Followed (Journeyman Book 5) Page 8

  “Yeah… because there’s nothing like seeing yourself falling to certain death,” Marcus replied.

  Ty cocked his head, continuing on his way. As he walked, he ran his fingers swiftly across the stone. It was damp, but none of the radiant green stayed on them. Still, he took a whiff and of all things there was the faintest hint of caramel.

  The path turned, taking a sharp left then later it turned again, then again in the opposite direction.

  Marcus’ eyes never left the back of Ty’s head, bobbing with each step he took. He found it reassuring to have something familiar in this otherwise unfamiliar place. The deeper they went, the more oppressed he felt, and even though they never set foot off the winding path, all of its twists and turns had the feelings of a maze.

  At last, things widened into a room, hardly grand and still small, but with enough space to walk around freely. As Ty leaned on a cool wall and wiped away a little bit of nervous sweat, Marcus was quick to notice something.

  There was no door; no way ahead.

  It was a dead end and with the way back closed off, they were trapped.

  “Well isn't this a big ‘ole sack of shit,” Marcus muttered, more hopeless in his words than he would have liked. “What do we do now?”

  Ty was already searching, scouring the faintly glowing walls looking and feeling for anything that could help.

  Marcus joined in, keeping an eye out for any cracks indicating a doorway, or wards etched into the rock that could be activated.

  After much hunting and their fair share of dirty fingernails, both had nothing to show for their efforts.

  “Huh,” said Ty, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the wall again. “We’re obviously missing something here.”

  “I agree,” Marcus replied, “but what?”

  “Hmmm. Why go through all the effort of bringing someone this far down, only to trap them?”

  Ty folded his arms and looked down to the floor. There were a few animal skeletons scattered amongst chipped stones – rats, a snake, and other tiny things – but no human or monster bones.

  “Have you noticed that there aren’t any large bones in here?” Ty asked Marcus, kicking a rat carcass over to him. “We didn’t encounter any on the way down either, so there has to be a way past.”

  “This place doesn't look much like Grand Central Station.” Marcus’ tone was highly pessimistic. “What if the lack of bones means nobody ever made it past the church before?”

  “Touché,” Ty replied frowning, now examining the ceiling for any clues; it was just as uninteresting as the floor. “What about the spell you used to get us in here? You think that'll open up another door?”

  “It's worth a shot if I can find a ward to trigger,” Marcus said as he extended a hand, eyes closed tightly in concentration. He reached out with his mind, feeling for things that may be hidden from naked sight. “It’s difficult for me to pinpoint, but there’s definitely something here, along the left wall I think. Gah, a mage could probably find it right…”

  He gasped, eyes shooting open as he was overrun with a feeling of remorse. His gut wrenched and he nearly fell to the floor.

  “Marcus? Marcus!” There was no reply, Ty moving toward his brother. He saw him staring deeply at the wall, so hard he could have blazed a hole through it himself.

  “I… think I… found it,” Marcus said, struggling and wincing. Ty was wide eyed as Marcus muttered the word of command. “Aperio.”

  Nothing responded at first, not even the slightest noise and Ty sank back, depressed.

  However, it was short lived as the sound of running water called them to it. Something was beginning to take shape on the leftmost wall. It was difficult to discern at first, the liquid cascading over itself in a splash-filled muddle, but steadily portions of it grew brighter, thicker, calmer. The outline of a door came to appear in the stone and above it, a Latin inscription flowed across in an arch. The entire wall became dark except for the fresh gossamer lines.

  Marcus was still breathing heavily, Ty once again checking him. Shaken by the experience, he ultimately seemed okay.

  “Phase out for a sec?” Ty asked with a huff himself.

  “Yeah,” Marcus replied. His eyes darted around, distracted. “I had an overwhelming feeling of… death.”

  Ty pressed on, not wanting any specific details.

  “Well, let’s hope that doesn’t happen for some time. On a good note, at least you managed to get another entrance to show itself. It may not be open yet, but we’re further along than we were.”

  Marcus nodded.

  “Did you notice the inscription?” Ty continued.

  “I did and I think I can read it, just give me a sec,” Marcus answered, panting while he squinted. As his vision cleared, he loosely mouthed the Latin passage, then read it aloud so his brother could understand. “The path ahead has been forged through pain and likewise shall be the price to walk it to salvation.”

  “That’s ominous,” Ty said. “Why are all of these things so painful?”

  “What things?” Marcus asked.

  “Quests in general.”

  Marcus chuckled.

  “You tell me field-man. I think it's meant to be a challenge, building that non-corporate character someone is always harping at me about.”

  “Well, that may be the case, but field work and questing are two wholly different things.”

  “If you say so,” Marcus said smirking, not buying it. “I think we should be good with a simple payment in blood.”

  “I like how you say it’s simple. So one of us has to get cut in order to get it open?”

  Marcus shook his head.

  “No, both of us do in order to pass. We’d wipe our blood there, along the middle. That symbol is a blood ward.”

  “How much blood are we talking about?” Ty asked, his heart starting to beat a little faster just thinking about it.

  Marcus knelt, breaking off two small rib bones from the rat corpse Ty kicked over earlier.

  “Not much,” he answered.

  Ty eyed the two prongs of yellowish white, none too excited at the prospect of what was coming.

  Marcus was calm, taking a little pleasure in his brother’s horrorstruck expression. Passing his hand over the bones, one of his tattoos glowed. The ribs cracked and groaned, drawn out lengthwise as they were transformed into two thin, but very sharp blades.

  “I could tell you didn't want to jab yourself with a germ stick, so I hope this will work better for you, Your Majesty.”

  “Oh give it a rest,” Ty snipped, plucking one of the knife-edges from Marcus’ hand. He examined it and though it wasn't completely smooth – its surface quite pitted – he was impressed with his brother’s skills. “Someone’s been practicing! Good work on this, Marcus. How long will they last?”

  “Thanks,” Marcus said with a proud smile. “I haven’t been able to keep anything changed for more than a day – my comm for example – but I guess that’s more transfiguring the same material into different shapes. Most transmuted things like these blades though, maybe five minutes, tops.”

  “Ugh, magic-speak,” Ty grumbled, longing for the simplicity of his concoctions. “Transfiguring… transmuting… it all sounds so similar, yet what’s the actual difference?”

  Marcus began to open his mouth; Ty shot up a finger up to stop him.

  “Rhetorical question while your brother’s grouchy. But seriously add in teleporting and telekinesis and you'd think I’d be having a riot with all those T words. In truth, it all just gives me a headache.”

  “Well, we’re about cause a bit of a hand-ache, too,” Marcus said, grasping his blade with his hand. With a hasty swipe, his flesh singed and became wet with crimson.

  “Well here goes nothing,” Ty said, doing the same. If expressions were anything to go by, he didn’t like that at all.

  Fists clenched and slightly dripping, they both walked up to the ethereal lines and swiped their bleeding palms across them. Instantl
y, there was an echoing rumble and huge cracks appeared across the glimmering door. The light from them flickered and then was gone, chunks of rock falling straightaway to the floor, continuing until nothing remained but a gaping hole.

  There was nothing but black ahead.

  Then a hint of green glinted in both their eyes, the nauseating color starting to spread along the passage, revealing more winding stairs beyond.

  “How’d I know there would be more of those?” Marcus grumbled as he followed Ty over the pile of rubble down the new, yet familiar path.

  The journey wasn’t as long as the first leg, ending when they reached a narrow fissure a few flights down; each of them had to turn sideways in order to get through. Ty went first, the tight walls disappearing as he emerged on the other side into total darkness, a chill draught waiting to caress his skin.

  “Ouch! Hey!” Ty complained as his brother tumbled into him.

  Before Marcus could reply there was a brief flicker and they watched silently as the haunting emerald light flashed into the chamber, rushing in slithering streams toward at least twenty fixtures sculpted like great clawed hands. They were wrought of iron, palms bursting with verdant flames when the light reached them, glints of brightness and shadow rising up two rows of tall pillars to the vast roof above.

  “Whoa,” Ty said in awe, craning his neck all around the room., “that’s not something you see everyday.”

  “We’re Journeymen, aren't we?” Marcus replied, grabbing his brother on the shoulder and giving it a gentle clasp. “It all comes with the…” Something caught his attention, ending him mid-sentence. A turquoise aura was sparkling further down the hall.

  “Bro…” Marcus whispered expectantly, heart quivering when he caught a twinkle of silver amongst the blue. “Is that what I think it is?”

  Ty took a single step forward to get a better look, then set off at a full sprint, his feet kicking up thick tufts of dust from the floor.

  “Oh my God! Yes! That's it!”

  That was all Marcus needed to hear and he was away, adrenaline pumping to catch up.

  “I can’t believe it!” he cried, though his elation became tempered with caution as he got closer. The blue glow was coming from a roaring fire, similar to the green ones in the torches. In the middle of the inferno, on a plinth of jet black stone was the Grail – simple, silvery, shining.

  “So close and yet so far away,” Ty said as he held out a hand; the heat of the flames was very intense.

  “I’m not giving up yet,” Marcus said assertively, scooping up a handful of loose debris. “We’ve made it this far and we’re not leaving without it.”

  His hand glowed dimly and water began to flow between his fingers, the debris transformed. As it fell on the flames, the blaze sputtered for perhaps a second then resumed its fierce intensity, the magic doing nothing to get them past.

  “Maybe it didn’t work because it wasn't originally water?” Marcus asked, looking for an excuse to counter his feeling of failure.

  “I don't know, but it was a good try,” Ty said, casting him a reassuring glance. “We have to do something else.”

  Marcus was out of ideas again.

  “But what?”

  There was a barking roar off to the right beyond the edge of the darkness. Something was moving, its heavy footsteps causing the floor to tremble.

  Ty backed up; Marcus too, the older brother tripping on his own restless feet. Falling hard on the ground, a sharp pain raced up his back and he cringed.

  The thing was getting closer, its vague form looming as if shrouded in a mist.

  Instinctively Marcus clamped his eyes shut, recalling the basilisk figures from the holy water stoup, but Ty gazed on, attentive as ever.

  Out of the gloom came a glimpse of the thing; not a basilisk but something equally terrifying. The strange creature was dark like the walls, a scaly head and neck undulating like a snake. Its hulking body paced like a big cat and cloven hooves beneath sturdy legs clattered on the ground. It also had a tail like a sinewy whip, which thrashed wildly. Ty recognized it as a questing beast, having come across its kind during research on Arthurian potions, but as happens a lot in lore, the real monster and the sounds it made were far more terrifying than sketches could show or tell.

  Sensing Ty’s gaze, the beast veered around, locking its eyes on the Journeymen. Then, emerging from the darkness, it charged.

  “Marcus!” Ty shouted, voice cracked by sheer volume. “Run! Toward the fires!”

  They set off at full speed for the torches. Some had been set higher than others off the ground – high enough for shelter, high enough to buy some time. Quickly, Ty directed Marcus to the closest one coming up on the left, while eyeing another a couple pillars down for himself.

  The beast was closing in quickly, barking from deep in its belly like a pack of rabid hounds. Its long and deadly fangs were bared in the firelight, ready to plunge into the soft flesh of those who dared covet the Grail and its power.

  Marcus dropped; the beast lunged. It missed as he slid across the floor toward a gap under the iron. The stone cut him, then all grew fiercely hot, sweat pooling like a lake.

  The creature reared as it skidded toward the flames, sending its mighty hooves crashing down toward Marcus. He dodged and they missed, striking hard against the rock.

  Enraged, the beast galloped up the chamber then back. Without claws to swipe, it used its tail, thrashing it under the torches. The first swipe didn't hit anything, Ty watching as the second one whipped toward him, flogging his forearms. There was blood, then pain, and another swing. It struck him so hard that he was catapulted out into the open.

  “Ty!” Marcus hissed, his fear yielding to anger as sweat stung his eyes.

  Ty groaned, gut throbbing. His eyes turned toward the creature, running sideways in view toward him. “Oh shit!”

  Ty still had his thin blade, grabbing it while struggling to his feet. Time seemed to slow; he was taking too long.

  The barking beast lunged and Ty swerved away, jabbing the blade through its scaly, serpentine neck as it rushed past. Blood splattered from the long wound and it swayed, disoriented. Staggering too close to a torch, it screamed and Marcus, observing from afar, knew what he had to do.

  The monster dashed at Ty again. He was able to dodge at the last possible moment, landing another strike, but this time there was a loud snap and the blade shattered, having reverted back to bone.

  “Oh come on!” he shouted as the creature passed. Suddenly it lurched to the side, striking him in the chest with its shoulder. Ty fell over, vision fuzzy.

  Instead of looping back for the kill, it unhinged its jaw, setting loose a monstrous tongue that waved like some slobbering banner. The beast was rushing another target, standing right between the rows of columns. It was Marcus, resolute with his arms down and fists tightly clenched.

  The fiend came closer, hooves thundering.

  Marcus stood firm. He wanted that cup – needed that cup, for Joey.

  The creature bellowed, spit flinging across its terrorizing fangs.

  Marcus felt his chest swell; this thing was not going to get in the way of his goal. His hands flung open. They glowed and the floor trembled, cracking. Suddenly, sections of it rose like rocky barriers ahead of the monster’s pounding hooves. It struck them, the speed and force of the impacts throwing it off balance. Then it fell, careening straight into a torch where it was seared by the emerald flames that consumed it until its last quivering bark.

  Marcus fell to his knees, panting and weakened. The once level floor had been reduced to a shambles. As he collected himself, the blue light around the Grail diminished, fires fleeing with the beast’s death. Marcus rose, bolting toward the relic. He reached out when he was close, his warm skin meeting the cold metal.

  A wave of relief surged over him and he knew then and there that they had succeeded. Spinning on the spot one more time, Marcus fled the chamber, Grail in hand and his brother close behind.

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nbsp; “MARCUS! TY!” GAGE hollered as he arrived in the church yard, approaching the building with caution. His voice was already getting hoarse. “Dammit, I’m gonna kick y’alls asses if ya don’t show up soon!”

  Not seeing anyone immediately outside nor around in the small cemetery, he ran up to the doors and flung them open, trudging inside where the still lingering incense irritated his nose to the point of sneezing. Twice.

  Gage eyed the holy water stoup, mumbling something untoward about Dajjal before setting eyes on the rickety confessional.

  “Now I may be the slightest bit sorry for what I just said, but I ain’t planning on a visit in there anytime soon,” he told himself, looking skyward before moving on.

  The floor unexpectedly began to tremble and a faint, rectangular light appeared on the ground right down the center aisle between the rows of pews. The shape began to ripple like a puddle, ephemeral droplets playing above its slick surface. From the center two figures splashed out as if sprinting upstairs; the brothers emerging a battered mess yet completely dry.

  “Well, that’s one way to make an entrance!” Gage said, surprised to see them coming out of the floor.

  “What’re you doing here?” asked Ty, surprised to see Gage in the middle of the church instead of up on the Odyssey.

  “Looking for ya,” he replied, exasperated, shifting tone when he spotted Marcus holding a metal goblet in his hands. “Guys, is that what I think it is?”

  Out of breath Marcus just nodded, handing the Grail over to his brother while he took a few deep, relaxing breaths.

  “Yes! We got it Gage!” Ty said happily, about to tell Gage the entire story.

  Although pleased that they managed to nab the Grail – a short-lived image of Joey passing in his head – Gage stopped him before he began.

  “Y’all can tell me all about it back aboard the ship, but we have to get a move on… now.”

  Detecting the urgency in his voice the trio moved without another word toward the entrance. There was a loud boom and a flourish of heat, a massive fireball tearing across the roof. The men leapt for their lives as heaps of centuries old wood, stone, and stained glass crashed to the ground in an instant.