by Daniel Diehl
As the shadows settled over the trees, Jason patted his weapon, his ammunition and the stones in his pocket one last time to make certain everything was in place. After only a second’s hesitation he pulled out the pistol, weighing its heft in his hand. Turning to Beverley he whispered “Ready?”
Leaning toward him she pressed her lips next to his ear, whispering “What are we doing?”
Jason motioned silently to indicate a circuitous path through the trees. Then, passing the pistol to Beverley, he added. “Stay really close behind me, Babe. I’m going to grab the guard. When I tell you, you hit him on the back of the head with this as hard as you can. Aim for the base of his skull.”
“But I might kill him.”
“I seriously doubt it, but it’s him or us. Remember, as hard as you can. Just don’t make any noise. We don’t want to alert the other guy.”
Stealthy as cats, they crept through the trees until they reached the corner of the stone wall. There they hunkered down again and waited for the guard to make some type of move that would present them with an opportunity. After more than twenty grueling minutes the guard took several steps toward them, leaned his weapon against the stones, turned his back toward the spot where Jason and Beverley waited and began to urinate against the wall.
After taking a deep breath and nodding his head once, Jason stepped out of his hiding place and, in a single stride, drove his knee into the small of the man’s back with all his might, slamming him against the wall and knocking the wind out of him. Simultaneously he reached around the man’s shoulders, grabbed the lapels of a light jacket that was zipped halfway up, and pulled down with all of his might, pinning the man’s arms at his side. With the single whispered shout of “Now” Jason ducked his head and Beverley stepped forward, slamming the butt of the pistol into the base of the man’s skull with all her might. The only sound the guard had time to make was a heavy ‘oof’ before collapsing. Jason moved back just far enough to allow the man to slide silently to the ground.
After turning around long enough to give Beverley a quick kiss and a pat on the shoulder, he turned back around, placed his knee between the fallen guard’s shoulders, grabbed his head and gave it a violent twist that ended with a sickening crack.
Jason had never killed anyone before and he needed a moment to steady himself. He leaned his head against the rough stone wall until he was sure he was not going to throw up or pass out. Then, steeling himself yet again, he grabbed the man’s rifle, pulled back the bolt, leaned around the corner of the wall and squinted through the dark at the other guard. Two shots in quick succession slammed the man against the wall. When he slid to the ground, a pair of ugly crimson smears followed him down.
Stepping over the still-twitching figure, Jason and Beverley approached the steel door. Beverley reached out, touched Jason’s hand and whispered “I’m ready when you are.” With that tiny bit of encouragement, Jason grabbed the door handle and gave it a turn. To his complete surprise the door swung outward without hesitation.
“You know this could be a trap?”
Beverley nodded in the dark and whispered “Just be careful.”
“Ok, Babe, down the rabbit hole.
At the opposite end of the Hellfire cave, on the bank of the River Styx, Merlin raised his eyebrows, opened one swolen eye to make certain Morgana was not within hearing distance and mumbled “Careful, boy.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Stepping into the depths of the Hellfire cave inevitably reminded Jason of the nightmare passages he and Merlin had stumbled through while they were in the labyrinth beneath Morgana’s Mongolian lair. Now, rather than a series of surreal protective spells that imposed mind bending images onto his consciousness, there was only a yawning silence so vast and deep that it felt like it might devour him and Beverley at any second. Alone and isolated from everything normal, they might as well have been on another planet. The silence enfolding them was, of course, a very temporary illusion and they had tip-toed no more than two hundred feet into the mouth of the cave when they heard the hollow sound of running feet coming toward them.
Reaching behind him, Jason touched Beverley’s wrist, pulled her into a crouch and choked out a strangled whisper. “They’re coming, Babe. Get down, stay behind me and keep tight to the wall.”
A slight narrowing in the tunnel’s shaft provided some slight cover and Jason leaned hard against the cool limestone wall in a desperate attempt to make himself as small a target as possible. Risking a quick peek into the tunnel, he judged they were no more than one hundred feet from their first position of real safety, a protective corner provided by a sharp turn to the left in the tunnel. But they had to get there and there was no way to tell how far away those running feet might be. The question was answered when a figure leapt around the corner, his appearance followed immediately by a deafening crack that reverberated down the tunnel’s shaft. Only inches from Jason’s face a small chip of limestone exploded off of the wall and sailed across the passageway. Behind him, Beverley squealed something into his back but it was impossible to hear her over the sound of the gunshot echoing in his ears.
Ahead of them the guard leaned around the corner of the tunnel and opened fire, shooting again and again, hoping that if he threw enough lead into the air he would hit the intruders. Judging by the random positions of the stone chips flying off the wall, Jason guessed the man was firing wild. Motioning Beverley to move back, he stretched out prone on the floor and pulled himself to the edge of their narrow hiding place. Ahead of him he could see the man’s face appear and disappear each time he fired a shot. Taking careful aim with the confiscated rifle, Jason cocked the bolt, held his breath and waited. Seconds later the man stuck his head out again and Jason fired. The tiny hole that appeared between the man’s eyes must have come as a complete surprise because he had a look of utter amazement on his face before he dove, nose first, onto the dirt floor.
“C’mon, Babe. Let’s go.”
Grabbing Beverley by the wrist, Jason lunged to his feet and leapt forward, shooting wildly to deter anyone from coming around the corner before they got there.
Panting, sweating, hearts banging so loud in their ears it sounded like more gunfire, Jason and Beverley huddled behind the corner of the tunnel, Jason’s right knee only inches from the dead guard’s head. Ahead of them they could hear the sound of more scurrying and shouting but it was too muffled and distant to pose an imminent threat. Another hundred or so feet down the length of the tunnel was a support column that Francis Dahswood’s workers had left standing in the center of the passageway. Breaking for it now would be a seriously calculated risk, but so would waiting until later. The column would provide more room to move and more cover than their current position but it also left them vulnerable on two sides. What to do? Taking this all in, and balancing the possibilities against the very probable risks, Jason only hesitated for the time-span of two heartbeats.
“C’mon. Go, go, go.”
Nearly jerking Beverley off of her feet, he dove forward, keeping his head down and remaining in as near to a crouching position as possible while still running at full tilt. Behind him, Beverley followed suit, keeping her head down and her body hunched forward. This time it would do no good for Jason to fire ahead of him to clear a path – the column blocked his view of whatever might be coming toward them in the tunnel ahead. As they ran blindly onward, a figure appeared from around either side of the column. The man on the left already had a rifle raised so Jason pumped two shots toward him immediately. When the man screamed and pitched forward, his associate paused for only a second to stare at his collapsing companion. That second’s hesitation cost him his life and two shots from Jason’s rifle sent him hurtling backwards, a gaping hole in his chest.
Approaching the two prone figures, Jason saw the first man reach haltingly toward his lost weapon. Never hesitating, Jason paused, intending to pump a final shot into the back of his head. The dull metallic click told him his rifle was empty and he
kicked the man under the jaw with all of his might and finished the job. Exchanging the guard’s rifle for his empty one, he slung it over his shoulder and then leaned, panting, against the column. He pulled Beverley close to him and stared at her.
“You doing Ok?”
Wide eyed and shaking from the surge of adrenalin and proximity to death, Beverley dredged up a weak smile and nodded furiously. Glancing down, she leaned forward and retrieved the pistol the second guard had been wielding.
“How do you shoot this thing?”
“You know, you can stay here if you want to.”
Beverley scarcely paused for a breath before offering her answer. “Bollocks that.”
Jason gave her a lopsided grin, took the pistol to make certain a fresh round was cocked into the chamber and handed it back.
“Just hold it real tight so it doesn’t kick, point and squeeze the trigger.”
Beverley looked with displeasure at the dull sheen of the nine millimeter pistol and nodded grimly.
“Then I guess I’m ready.”
“Ok, listen, it’s a long way to the catacombs but there’s no place to stop till we get there. Once we’re there, at least they’ll provide some cover.” Nodding toward his left, Jason continued. “Just give me a second to check and see it’s clear and then we both go this way when I say ‘go’. When we get into the tunnel, start firing and don’t stop till we get to the catacombs. Got it?”
Wide eyed and breathing hard, Beverley only nodded.
Jason leaned carefully to his left. Ahead of him, far up the length of the tunnel, he could see two men standing at the entrance to the tiny catacombs, heads together, conferring in low tones.
“GO.”
* * *
“Damn, damn, damn. And just when you were coming around far enough that I could give you another dose of happy juice.”
The intermittent sound of gunfire had been echoing down the long corridor leading to the river cave for nearly five minutes and Morgana was pacing back and forth, torn between her desire to watch while her guards subdued Jason and the burning need to continue the brutal interrogation of her prisoner. Deciding that the pursuit of Jason was taking far too long, she finally came to a decision and leaned down until her face was level with Merlin’s.
“Listen, lovey, I really hate to torture and run, but I think our new guests are being uncooperative. They should have been here all neatly trussed up next to you by now, and since they obviously aren’t, it might be best if I go hurry things along a bit.” Stepping into the tunnel, she turned back, laughing maniacally and waggled her fingers at Merlin. “Don’t go away now, ‘cause I’ll be right back.”
The instant Merlin was satisfied that she was gone, he closed his eyes and concentrated on the only mind within reach that he still had the strength to control. Come. Come to me. Come now. Squeezing his eyes shut fiercely, he sought and probed until tiny beads of sweat began to break out on his blood streaked forehead. It took nearly an entire precious minute, but eventually he heard a frantic squeaking sound coming from the far side of the river. When he was certain he had its attention he opened his eyes and smiled at the rat.
“Ah, there you are. I need you to come here. That’s it. Don’t be afraid. You remember where the bridge is, don’t you? That’s right. Right there. Good. Now come across and come to me.”
The rodent sniffed the air and, seemingly satisfied, scurried across the invisible bridge and ran to where Merlin sat. Standing on its hind legs it poked its head above his knee and onto the edge of his lap. The old wizard leaned forward and smiled, his concentration divided between the rat and the continuing sound of gunfire far, far down the tunnel.
“Chew the ropes. I want to you eat the ropes binding my hands.” The rat stared at him uncomprehendingly. “The ropes. Eat them. Do it now.”
Lowering itself to the floor, the rat scampered behind the chair, stretched as far as it could and rested its tiny front paws on Merlin’s hands. Sniffing out the hemp rope, it began to chew frantically.
“Good boy. Hurry. Hurry. Chew as fast as you can.”
Despite the occasional painful nip from the rat’s razor-like teeth, Merlin held as still as he could while his small servant labored dutifully at its task. Finally, after keeping his hands nearly immobile for fully two minutes, Merlin felt the ropes slacken. Pulling his hands apart, the tension of the rope released as his bonds dropped into the dust. While he rubbed his wrists to restore circulation to his fingers, the rat gnawed the ropes binding his feet. When all of his bonds had been loosened Merlin attempted to stand. Still extremely woozy and unsteady on his feet, he nearly fell over but righted himself by grabbing the back of the chair and pushing himself upright. Directing his wobbly legs toward the tunnel while trying to shake the circulation back into his legs, he turned long enough to smile at his small rescuer.
“Thank you. You can go home now and I promise never to forget you.”
The rat squealed once before running back toward the bridge, but long before it found its way home Merlin had disappeared into the stone corridor. The way ahead was clear as far as he could see, but he still had to get past the strange triangular section of passage before he could be certain no one was lying in wait.
With extreme difficulty focusing his eyes and controlling his legs, every step required a monumental effort and although circulation to his legs improved with each painful step, his vision was so badly blurred from the drugs that he had to feel his way along the corridor walls and cover one eye with his free hand. As he reached the triangle, he veered to the left, trusting to luck that no one was coming toward him from the opposite direction. Once clear of the blind section of tunnel, he was less than one hundred feet from the banquet hall, and now the gunfire and screaming had resumed after a nearly two minute hiatus.
Merlin was glad the fighting had resumed; the minutes of silence had brought fears that Jason and Beverley had been captured…or worse. With those fears dissipated, he rushed blindly ahead, frantic to save his friends and settle accounts with Morgana le Fay.
Across the banqueting hall, at the entrance to the short tunnel leading into the catacombs, a furious fight was taking place. Jason and Beverley had fought their way through the catacombs but a new group of guards had come into the tunnels from the outside and were now forcing their way into the open space of the big room. Beverley and Jason had taken cover behind the massive banks of electronic equipment lining the southern wall of the room and were firing toward the entrance to the catacombs where they had their pursuers trapped.
In the noise and confusion, Morgana slipped across the huge, circular room, past Jason and Beverley and joined her guards who she was now haranguing at the top of her voice, threatening to kill everyone if Jason and Beverley were not captured immediately. When Merlin stepped into the mouth of the tunnel, Morgana’s screams shifted topic and she began screaming for her guards to kill the old man. In her fury, Morgana curled her fingers like the claws of some great bird of prey and loosed a massive flaming bolt of energy that blew a bathtub sized hole in the cavern wall only feet from Merlin’s head.
Still disoriented and barely able to focus his eyes, Morgana’s attack gave Merlin a point of origin toward which to focus his own counterattack. Stepping boldly out of the shadowy protection of the tunnel and into the incandescent glare of the main room, he drew back his arm and, as he shouted for Jason and Beverley to take cover, loosed a rapid-fire series of fireballs as bright and deadly as earth-bound comets. Still unable to see or hold his arm steady, the shots went wildly off target. Some of the flaming missiles chewed great chunks of stone from the cave walls, throwing boulders and shards of limestone in every direction. Others careened crazily to the left, blowing the faces off banks of computer towers and electronic equipment, sending cascades of white-hot sparks in every direction, burning and searing furniture, other pieces of equipment and anything else they struck. In seconds the room was filled with a rainbow of deadly comets showering down in an endless arr
ay of bright colors. The fifty foot diameter space of the banqueting room looked like a thousand Roman candles had all gone off at once, leaving a fantastical lightshow of death and destruction trailing in their wake.
Given the concentration of the barrage it was inevitable that some of the fiery projectiles found their mark. When one of the guards tried to fight his way through the doorway and into the dining hall at the same moment an incoming energy blast happened to find its mark, the man was blown in half, his legs blasted in one direction, his torso thrown back into the tunnel where it knocked two other attackers off their feet as his exploding entrails painted the surrounding walls a delicate pink. The stink of roasting flesh and burning hair filled the passageway making it nearly impossible for those taking shelter there to breathe.
Somehow, despite the kaleidoscope of flaming death that filled the space around them, Jason managed to signal Beverley, who was crouched beneath the smoldering ruins of Morgana’s communicating device. Acknowledging her furious nod, he lunged toward her, grabbed her hand and had just started to pull her through the confusion and tumult when Morgana broke free from the pall of smoke and death choking the entrance to the tunnel.
Heading directly toward Jason and Beverley’s back, Morgana emerged from the smoke and kicked Jason in the side with a foot backed by every ounce of strength she could muster. While Jason was stumbling violently backward, Morgana grabbed the disoriented Beverley by the hair and dragged her across the room toward Merlin, fending off the deadly waterfall of electrical sparks and stone chips with an umbrella of energy waves issuing from her free hand. With one hand grasping her captive and the other protecting her life, Morgana may not have been able to attack Merlin, but she knew he would be unable to see her coming through the smoke and blinding flashes of light. Charging directly toward him, she elbowed him in the ribs with such force that she clearly heard the sound of a cracking rib. Barreling past her nemesis, Morgana knocked him against the wall of the tunnel, hauling her screaming victim in her wake.