“Ai,” says Domithicus.
“There’s a sharp drop off ridge of about sixty feet. As we hit it, you need to fire your gun. Aim for the third story landing. There’s a small door way there.”
“What if I miss?” asks Domithicus, desperately.
“We’re dead,” says Perronius matter of fact.
“No pressure then,” says Domithicus facetiously.
“I suppose someone should have told you there were risks with this position.” asks Perronius, mockingly. He smiles teasingly.
Domithicus looks indignant but seconds later bursts out laughing.
“Twenty seconds,” says Perronius.
Domithicus eyes wide in dilation to double their size. He grabs up his saddlebag and extracts two nylon loops, carabiners and a tether and hooks it to the grappling gun.
“Remember my legs are fucked,” says Perronius, “...for the time being.”
Domithicus rolls his eyes in irritation. Perronius pats him on the shoulder reassuringly. “You can do this Brother.”
Domithicus readies the gun and looks forward. The drop off looks like a hundred feet instead of sixty. They’re only going to get one shot at this. If he misses, they’re dead. He spies the third building overhang and braces himself, concentrates on his target and waits for the perfect second.
The wheelbarrow continues its rapid descent. As it begins its plunge, Domithicus fires the grappling gun and they begin their deadly descent to the bottom. He prepares for the worst, but midway down, they stop abruptly and swing precariously from side to side. The dead weight of Perronius bites painfully into his sides.
The harness cinches in on his skin tighter, making it feel as if his internal organs are locked in a vise. He twists and turns in a vain attempt to position himself better, so he can breathe more freely. They hang for several seconds. Domithicus begins to reel up the slack laboriously, while wheezing from his inability to fully breathe.
Perronius pats him on the back in a congratulatory way. “I knew you could do it, Brother,” he says.
The grappling gun begins its ascent. As soon as they reach the edifice of the castle, Domithicus grasps onto it. The wood-fired corate bricks have deep inset grout that can be grasped onto. If their lines hold, it will be easy to maneuver. Domithicus breathes a sigh of relief.
“Don’t get too comfortable,” warns Perronius. Domithicus looks chagrined. “We have company.”
“Of course, we do,” says Domithicus.
Domithicus pulls his speed shooter not a second too soon. It is nearly devoured whole from his hand. One of the raptors had been lying in wait. As Perronius and Domithicus began to scale the wall, it began to scale the wall as well but at a much faster rate.
Domithicus fires at point blank range and it seems only to enrage the beast further. It darts its head forward in an attempt to swallow Domithicus’ head whole, but as it cranes its neck, it emits an ear piercing high-pitched whale that nearly pops his eardrums painfully.
Perronius drives the hilt of his sword into the beast and savagely twists it repeatedly, emitting more cries of anguish. It cranes its neck towards Perronius but as it does, Domithicus fires his gun into its head. Blood splatters erupts from his head, pulverizing its scales and bones. It abruptly loses its grip and drops from the wall. The thud of its corpse follows several seconds later.
“Is that the last one?” asks Domithicus, hopefully.
“There are more,” says Perronius. “But none that are in pursuit. You can rest easy-for the time being.”
Domithicus sighs in relief. Domithicus begins to climb up the wall, slowly at first, unsure if Perronius can keep up, since he has no use of his legs. Amazingly, his upper body strength seems to have gained the strength that was lost with the use of his legs. Perronius scales the remainder of the thirty feet nearly effortlessly. In fact, Domithicus must force himself to hurry to keep up with Perronius. They both grasp onto the edge of the wall and hoist themselves over.
Perronius sits on the edge of the wall and tries to prop himself on his feet. He stands for several seconds and forces himself to take a step. He takes one wobbly step and crashes to the ground.
“How are you?” asks Domithicus.
“Getting better,” says Perronius. “But I still can’t walk. I don’t know how long it will be before I regain them completely.”
Domithicus shakes his head. “Or if at all,” warns Perronius. Domithicus eyes go wide in consternation. Perronius smiles reassuringly. “But I suspect they will. My body has a way of bouncing back.”
Domithicus nods. “That it does, Brother.” Domithicus looks around. “I do hope that was the hardest part we just went through.”
“Would have been,” says Perronius, “...if my legs were working.” Domithicus rolls his eyes and groans in frustration.
(3)
Syrus and Justinian hoist up the last man, who weighs a considerable amount, especially since he is dead weight and toss him onto the drawbridge from the last parapet. They look at each other knowingly, a triumphant glean in their eyes. They both extract flare guns and shoot them into the sky.
Only a few minutes later, a large battalion of soldiers runs onto the drawbridge. They are led by Tratamus himself and Lespie. Both have a reckoning with Songre Khan. “Songre Khan is mine!” yells Tratamus.
“This successful siege is all the retribution I seek,” says Lespie in response.
As a state of pandemonium has taken hold inside the castle, there are few soldiers to meet the overwhelming onslaught. The few that do are quickly and methodically cut down with a never-ending stream of bullets. They fall to the ground and those that don’t die from the initial shots are trampled to death.
Within minutes, hundreds of soldiers penetrate the impenetrable fortress and the men inside are overwhelmed with a slew of bullets that cuts down men indiscriminately, opening massive wounds in chests, necks and torsos, partially ripping off torn appendages that hang from mangled ligaments and tendons.
Lespie fires repeatedly with his pistol, while using his sword to deflect bullets from the soldiers retaliating. He cuts, dodges, weaves and pivots when he gets close enough and swings his sword, slicing through tender flesh like a hot knife through butter.
He tumbles, dives, deflects a bullet and fires his gun, knocking an assailant to the floor. Blood gushes from the top of his head, pooling on the ground. His neck goes slack and his eyes go dazed, still wearing a look of surprise.
Lespie spots an alcove and hides under it for a moment. He pulls out his pocket watch and looks at the time- one hour to rendezvous with Perronius. The only question is he still alive and if he is, is he intact?
(4)
“Is it true?” asks Songre Khan in a pathetic, deflated voice.
Persius nods. “Ai, my Lord. They have breached the castle. Both drawbridges have been compromised. They’ve been planning this attack for some time.”
“And Perronius?”
“Nowhere to be found.”
“He survived?” asks Songre Khan in a booming voice.
“It appears he could have,” says Persius. “There is an antidote for arsenic poisoning. Tannic Acid, but no amount of the antidote could have compensated for poison in his system. He would have died either way.” Persius pauses. “Unless...”
Songre Khan whips his head around. “Unless what?” he demands.
Persius hesitates.
“Unless what?” demands Songre Khan.
“If the tannic acid existed in its most pure form, there is a chance that the antidote could have worked, but the odds of isolating and extracting its purest form is extremely unlikely. It would take a great scientist-”
“A great scientist like Cameo?” roars Songre Khan.
Persius sighs in resignation and closes his eyes for a moment. A part of him tries to reach for the pistol on his hip, but a larger part of him urges caution. “Ai, my Lord. It can be the only explanation for why Perronius still lives.”
Is that a conspira
torial nod? The slightest of nods or did he imagine it? Persius forces the thought from his mind.
“I’m relieving you of your command, General!” Songre Khan eyes go to Gil, the Captain of the Guards. Gil takes the cue and pulls the shooter from his hip and fires it in three quick successions. The bullets are monstrously accurate and deadly. They rip through Persius’ torso, cutting through his lung and sending a spurting of blood from a broken artery. The other bullets pierce his neck, puncturing his larynx. He gasps for breath as he falls in a pool of his own blood. He tries to choke, convulses and writhes for several seconds before finally succumbing to darkness.
Songre Khan nods at Gil. “Thank you, Captain.” Songre Khan walks around, deep in contemplation. No army has ever breached his inner sanctum. The unthinkable has happened. How could it come to this? To be outwitted by the lowliest of lows- a former slave. He sighs heavily in defeat. His eyes light up at the thought of his final act of defiance. He knows now what must be done.
“My Lord,” says Gil beseechingly. “Time is of the essence. What are your orders? There is a way out of here. If you’re going to survive, we must leave now. We must go through the catacombs.”
“No!” booms Songre Khan. “I will not leave my castle and run away like some cowardly nymph.”
Gil looks at him curiously. “What are your orders, my Lord?”
“Perronius is here to rescue Gaeden Kai,” says Songre Khan. “You ken?”
“Does appear that way,” says Gil.
“I want you to finish this, Captain. Take a detail of men and eliminate Gaeden Kai. At tempest halt! Take as much armory as each man can carry. He is a slippery one.”
Gil nods. “Ai, my Lord. I’ll see it done, set watch and warrant it.”
“See that you do,” says Songre Khan. “Leave me with ten guards. No one has ever breached my inner sanctum.”
“My Lord, if they do, then-”
“I will go to certain death. I know this. Scorch and burn policy. Do not hesitate. Eliminate him. Rest assured, our defenses will hold.”
'Yes, because they’ve held up well so far’ Gil thinks but does not say. Instead, Gil bows and says, “Ai, my Lord. Will see it done.”
Gil leaves with a small entourage of men. As soon as they exit the main hall, the next in line, a captain, addresses him. “How many shall we send in to Gaeden Kai’s cell?” he asks. Gil looks around to ensure that there are no other soldiers around except for the seven of them.
“Who shall I send to certain death?” Gil asks sardonically.
“You heard his orders,” says Captain Riley forcibly.
“This place is taken. He’s a fool.” He looks around at the other men, daring them to speak otherwise. “We’re leaving. Taking the exit from the catacombs and with it, our lives to be had. You ken?”
“Leaving your King is the same as desertion. I’ll have you arrested,” threatens Captain Riley.
“Let me know when you find a firing squad that isn’t otherwise occupied.” Before Captain Riley can answer, Gil pulls his sidearm from the holster and fires it point blank range into Captain Riley numerous times, sending up a gory splatter of crimson. It gushes from his devastated organs as he falls to the floor in horrific dismay. Gil fires ends his life for good with a bullet to his head. Pulverized bone and spongy brain matter pool onto the floor along with thick, viscous blood.
Gil looks at the men as if daring them to speak out of turn. They are too shocked to do or say anything. “He was going to send us to certain death. You ken? Anyone have any objections? If so, please speak up now!” He roars, while glaring at the men menacingly.
They nod their heads in assent. “We would rather live,” says Bik, a lowly private.
“Then let’s be about the business of absconding. You ken?” The men nod their heads in assent.
(5)
Perronius is recovering but too slowly. Domithicus is forced to walk him down the stairs. He’s as unsteady as a newborn calf and must continually stop to get his bearings. Not only has the drug affected his legs and balance but his equilibrium as well. His senses and abilities are returning to him, but in a piecemeal fashion.
When they reach the end of the landing, they encounter a cubicle for a service elevator, but there is no service elevator. Instead, there is a forty-foot drop into what looks like an abyss, but as Domithicus inspects it closer, he realizes it is a dank dungeon like aquifer. He cringes at what comes next. He can only guess.
Perronius nods his head. “Ai, we’re going in I’m afraid.”
Domithicus shakes his head in exasperation. “Take out the large saddlebag,” says Perronius. "There’s a sheet of plastic in there. Wrap up all the supplies. There should be two pairs of goggles also.”
“It’s rumored there are electric eels in there,” says Domithicus in protest.
“And sea serpents and God only knows what else. We could stay here and meet certain death with the number of soldiers who will be here in a few minutes or we can finish this quest. What would you have me do?”
Domithicus exhales deeply, trying to slow his trip-hammering heart.
“There are two spear guns,” says Perronius.
Afraid to ask, Domithicus asks anyway. “How many spears?”
“Six.”
Domithicus and Perronius jump into the aquifer after wrapping up their saddlebags in a large plastic sheet, but not before extracting two pairs of goggles and two spear guns. As soon as they hit the water, they are assaulted by its icy temperatures, which feels like numerous tiny daggers piercing their skin.
Domithicus lets out an unexpected howl as he comes up for air. Perronius only laughs. “Should have warned you it’s going to be cold.”
“You think?” asks an exasperated Domithicus.
“Perhaps it’s a blessing I can’t see anything underneath,” continues Domithicus.
“That won’t be the biggest obstacle, nor the unbelievable cold.”
“What is?” asks Domithicus.
“Swimming the five hundred yards underwater.” Perronius point to a large rocky outcropping about a hundred yards away. “See that outcropping?” He asks Domithicus.
Domithicus reluctantly nods. “We must swim over to it. When we reach it, we must travel underwater to get to the other side. It’s about a three-hundred-yard swim underwater through shark-infested waters. I wouldn’t worry about them though. They usually feed on the sea serpents and electric eels.”
“That’s encouraging,” says Domithicus facetiously.
Domithicus and Perronius swim over as far as they can toward the rocky outcropping. Already, Domithicus can feel his joints screaming in protest, threatening to cramp up.
Perronius turns to Domithicus. “You ready?” he asks.
“As much as I can be ready for this.”
“One more thing,” says Perronius. “Prepare yourself. The water’s going to get colder. Remember your training. It’s the only thing that will save you.”
“Let’s go,” says Domithicus, reluctantly.
Domithicus and Perronius take a huge breath and go under. Their lighted goggles illuminate their way but only give them about a twenty-foot view from other side. Beyond that is pitch black. Perronius points to him and Domithicus follows. Although he doesn’t have the full use of his legs, he still swims through the water quickly, leveraging the considerable strength in his upper body.
His body seems to have adapted to suite his temporary handicap. He pulls with his arms and uses his legs like a pinwheel to take advantage of the drag to propel himself faster. Domithicus is impressed. He picks up the speed to compensate for Perronius speed.
He feels some minute vibration in the water that sends the hairs on his body to salute. Without looking behind, him, he reaches for his dart gun and fires instinctively. He can only catch glimpses of what transpired. A large fish, probably a shark pops in and out of view. It has a spear lodged in its dorsal fin.
In the next second, the shark comes into view and attempts to c
homp down on him, but just as it begins to clamp down, he hears a palpable whooshing movement parallel to him. In the next second, the shark halts its attack. The spear shoots strategically into its eye socket, penetrating the vulnerable flesh of its brain. It goes still and begins to float up towards the surface.
Domithicus looks at Perronius. Perronius gestures with his hand. Hurry up. Domithicus doesn’t hesitate. He has no time to be relieved. His throat begins to burn with the agonizing need to breathe air.
Domithicus purposely wills away the panic that begins to take root inside him, but he is powerless from stopping it completely. His lungs burn with the need for air. Perronius looks back with a look. Don’t stop brother. Perronius pushes on faster and faster, forcing himself onwards farther than his physiological limits. The bitter cold of the water takes hold of his muscles, but he grimaces and forces it away.
Domithicus is at the peak of his limits. He must breathe. As he breaks through the next turn, the sweet air greets him, and he sucks it in as greedily as a man dying of thirst gulps down water. He looks at Perronius, who heaves his chest up and down but otherwise seems intact. Domithicus feels his muscles begin to twitch involuntarily but it is the furthest thing from his mind. The only thing that matters is the blessed air.
“Where to next?” asks Domithicus.
“To Gaeden’s cell.”
Perronius takes the spear gun and attaches a makeshift harpoon to the spear gun. “Grab a hold of me,” says Perronius.
Domithicus complies. Perronius aims his gun towards a bowled cleft just inside the cliff face. The hook sinks in. He pulls it sharply to be sure and pushes the extractor button. They begin to ascend towards the hook. When they reach the top, Perronius uses his upper body to propel himself upwards. “Won’t be easy with those legs,” says Domithicus.
“None of this was,” says Perronius.
“Ai,” says Domithicus.
(6)
Germanicus and Atticus descend the elaborate stairwell leading to the prison cells. Behind over fifteen huge oak doors that can only be opened from the outside is the two steel doors that stand sentry outside his cell. It is the single most fortified place in the impossibly fortified castle.
Dawn of the Merlin- The Final Quest Page 11