The Dreaming Spires

by William Kingshart

  I suddenly knew what I had to do. I sprinted to put some distance between us then I stopped and turned, facing him. I braced myself and waited for the attack. He snarled, bellowed and swung at me back-handed. I parried with my sword in the last second. The force lifted me and threw me twenty feet. I landed with a crash and slid another fifteen feet, spinning on the stone floor as I went. Finally, I hit the wall and stopped. I was winded and gasping, and my chest felt like it was going to rip in half. The great demon was standing, bellowing a huge laugh that threatened to bring down the roof. I had no time to watch or feel sorry for myself. Every micro-second counted. I dropped my sword and pulled the bow from my back. In another second, I had one of the gold-tipped arrows and I had nocked it and pulled. He froze, staring with wild eyes. He moved too late. I had loosed. There was a whisper in the air and the arrow met its mark in the dead center of his heart.

  The explosion was a white, nuclear blast, and the scream that went with it was harrowing. It was the despair of a demon cast back into the black void of Hell. It passed, and next I was lying on my back, trembling. There was an eerie, unearthly glow in the air. I turned and saw Sebastian still crouching behind the pew. He appeared ashen. I heard his voice like it was coming from a million miles away. “That’s what you call a leprechaun?”

  I struggled to my feet. “Whatever they are, there is another one. Wait—”

  Far at the other end of the church, beyond the altar, a door banged open with a reverberating echo and two men burst through. They seemed to be miles away, striding toward me. The nearest was lean, dressed in black, with a cloak hanging from his shoulders. He had an authoritative, almost aristocratic, bearing. The man behind him was big, muscular. He gave the impression of a bear, with a huge fur cloak and a great battle-ax over his shoulder. Dicky had arrived with the other shape-shifting leprechaun.

  I staggered to my feet and held my sword in both hands. I knew exactly what I had to do. I fixed Dicky with my eyes and clamped my mind on him vise-like. I saw him break his stride and falter. His right hand went to his head. I hit him like a sledge hammer, plunging in and bellowing into his mind, “What do you want? Tell me! What do you want?” Then I visualized my mind was a vacuum, sucking everything from inside him. I felt my stomach clench and my mouth open, and I roared like a demented ogre as I dragged his thoughts from his head.

  He stopped, bent almost double, both hands to his temples. His eyes were clenched shut as he screamed, “Nooooo!”

  I let go and, before he could recover, I charged him. I pelted six strides, then I leaped as he staggered back and I smashed into his chest with both feet. He went flying and crashed into the hairy hulk behind him. They both sprawled on the floor. Before they had time to think, my blade was flashing left and right. They cowered under their raised weapons, half-sitting, struggling to get to their feet. I bombarded them with blows, and all the while, I fastened my mind on Dicky, sucking on his thoughts, blitzing his brain with mine. I am pretty sure he had never experienced an assault like it in his life.

  I had no idea what Sebastian was doing. I blocked him firmly from my thoughts so that there was no chance of Dicky’s realizing what the real attack was and that I was just a diversion. And Sebastian was as good as his word because he skidded as he reached the chancel and ducked to his left in front of the altar, heading for the door through which Dicky and the hulk had appeared. He had no choice but to do that, because it was the only way down to the crypt. But it was a shame because just for that moment I saw him, and just for a fraction of a second, I faltered. That was all Dicky needed.

  He’d caught it. In a flash, he rolled, spun and kicked my legs from under me. I smashed onto my back and the wind was knocked from my lungs. My chest went into spasm, and as hard as I gasped, I couldn’t get any air into my lungs. He sprang to his feet and raised the sword in both hands, its tip pointing straight down at my heart, and he plunged.

  My hand moved of its own volition. My blade flashed, and as I rasped for air, I deflected his blow and it hit the granite floor in a shower of sparks. I staggered to my feet, screeching for air. Six blows rained on me from his blade and I parried them all while clawing at my throat. Then I saw it. My heart leaped with terror and I screamed, “Noooo!”

  Sebastian was hurtling like a quarterback on speed toward the door of the crypt. He was reaching for the handle, but just inches behind him was the hairy hulk. I sprang forward toward them, but Dicky kicked me in the shins and I sprawled on my face. As I slid forward, I saw the big hulk grab Sebastian by the back of his neck and yank hard. Sebastian was lifted off his feet and flew backward toward the chancel. He hit the stone floor on his back, bounced and somersaulted like a rag doll and flopped face down on the floor. He lay motionless. I felt sick.

  The great brute raised his hammer over his head. I sprang to my feet with a yelp, sideswiped Dicky with my sword and leaped. I brought my blade up as his hammer was crashing down. The blow jarred me to the bone, but if Sebastian wasn’t already dead, it saved his life. I cut savagely down and gashed the hulk’s leg. He staggered back. I spun and raised my sword over my head without thinking. It stopped Dicky’s blade splitting my skull. His midriff was wide open so I kicked him hard in the belly, and as he went down, I kicked him again, twice. When he rolled and scrambled to his feet, I turned and hammered at the hulk with six lightning-fast blows of my sword. He fell and that gave me three seconds. I turned and probed Sebastian’s mind with mine. He was sick and numb, but he was alive. I blasted him with the command, “Crawl to the door to the crypt! I will cover you!”

  And they were on me with a hail of blows. My sword moved at warp speed. Wherever the stabs or slashes came from, my sword was there—deflecting, parrying, blocking. I made no effort to strike back. That would waste energy. All I wanted was to cover Sebastian as he crawled, inch by agonizing inch, to the door through which Dicky had arrived. And while I defended myself, I probed Dicky’s mind again—attacking, sucking at his thoughts, draining him of his concentration. My mind locked on his skull, hammering and grinding its way in. He was staring and the sweat was running down his brow. I inched back two steps, feeling for Sebastian with my heel. He had moved.

  Then I heard the creak of the door. Dicky heard it, too, and his eyes widened in a glare. He knew, suddenly, that he had been tricked. He roared like a lion and redoubled his attack. But he knew, as I did, that I was invincible, as was he, and as long as I was just defending myself, there was nothing he could do. Meanwhile, behind me, Sebastian was dragging himself to his feet, leaning on the door jamb. Now, I needed to turn the tables. Now, I needed to go on the offensive.

  I launched a savage, unstoppable attack on the hulk, forcing Dicky to come to his defense. I nicked his cheek, slashed his leg and cut his arm, my blade moving faster than the eye could see. He reeled and backed away as Dicky fought desperately to deflect my blows. Then I turned on him and lunged with my blade at his face, and simultaneously, with my mind, I seized his brain and rammed a nuclear bomb into his imagination. It exploded in an insane, white flash. He screamed and stepped back, gripping his head with his hands. I turned. Sebastian was down the first three steps. The door stood open. I stepped in. The last thing I saw before I slammed it was Dicky’s raging face, and in that moment, for a fraction of a second, I read something in his eyes. I turned the key and we were in absolute darkness.

  I could hear Sebastian’s ragged breathing a couple of feet from me. I said, “You okay?”

  His voice came back, trembling but reassuring. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  I felt in my pocket and pulled out my cell. I switched on the flashlight app and saw his face shying away from the glare. We inched our way down the steps. After a minute of slow progress, we came to the bottom. There was a kind of small lobby with a door on the right and a door on the left. I was wondering why the hulk hadn’t just ripped the door off its hinges and followed us down, but he hadn’t, and that was enough for me. I stood a moment and calculated where the window was tha
t I had peered through. I crossed to the door on the right, pushed it open and saw the most horrific sight I have ever seen in my life.

  Ciara was sitting on a sofa, trembling and sobbing. Michael Fionn was sitting next to her with his arm around her. His face was drawn and gray. They both looked up as we pushed in. Then we all stared at the padre, lying on the floor, staring sightlessly at the ceiling with a dagger stuck in his heart.

  Ciara turned back to me. She was shaking her head and tears were streaming down her cheeks. She said, “He tried to protect us.”

  Her dad scowled at me. “I suppose you’ve come to finish the job.”

  Ciara grabbed his arm in her hands. “No, Dad. This is Jake. I told you about him. He’s come to rescue us.”

  I heard Sebastian’s wry, exhausted voice over my shoulder. “And I’m Sebastian, also here to rescue you.”

  Fionn said, “And how the bloody hell do you plan to do that?”

  Sebastian placed a hand on my shoulder and leaned heavily on me. “Yes, Jake, mannerless and ungrateful as the bugger is, I have to concur. How the bloody hell do we plan to do that? There is one way out of here and that is blocked by a hairy Viking and an immoderate twat.”

  Fionn scowled some more and said, “I’ll not let you put my girl at risk.”

  Ciara said, “Oh, for God’s sake, Daddy!”

  And Sebastian said, “You might make it through, Jake, but the rest of us don’t stand a chance. We’ll be slaughtered in seconds.”

  I spoke quietly. “If you’ll all please just shut the fuck up, I’ll tell you how.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “There is a secret exit through the crypt—a priest hole or something, from the Reformation. But we have to be quick. They might know I know by now.”

  Michael Fionn examined me suspiciously. “How do you know that?”

  I glanced at Sebastian. He just barely perceptibly shook his head. Ciara was watching me curiously.

  I said, “It’s hard to explain, but I managed to get a look at some old documents.”

  Sebastian said, “Lay on, McDuff… Let’s get out of here. I, for one, have had enough.”

  We stepped out of the small room and into the makeshift lobby, and there we took the other door that had been on our left and was now on our right. It was a huge, ancient oak thing shaped in a Norman arch. There was an old iron key in it. I turned and pulled. The wood had swollen and warped, but after a few shoves, it grated open.

  It was pitch black in the crypt. I fished out my cell. The battery was at half. The flashlight app really chewed up the charge, but we had to use it. The shadows seemed to spring back into the corners. It was a kind of a honeycomb of Norman arches under a vaulted ceiling. It appeared like sandstone but it was hard to tell. I played the light around and the darkness seemed to scurry away here as it closed in there. There was a soft echo of scratching feet.

  I whispered, “Come on,” and Sebastian closed the door behind us.

  Fionn, voice harsh in the blackness, asked, “Well, where is this famous tunnel, then?”

  I said, “I’m not sure… Somewhere down there.”

  I pointed with the beam of the flashlight and he said, “That’s just brilliant.”

  We shuffled, picking our way through the impenetrable gloom, huddled in the small pool of light cast by my phone. The ancient arches and columns seemed to lean in and scowl at us as we passed.

  Fionn rasped, “I hate rats! Where in God’s name are you leading us?”

  I didn’t bother answering. I was concentrating too hard on trying to see what was ahead while trying to fix on what I had snatched from Dicky when he’d realized he’d been foiled—when he’d realized we were going down into the crypt. He had not looked triumphant, as he should have if he’d had us trapped down here. He seemed enraged—even fearful. And in that unguarded moment, I had read his mind. There was a tunnel, it was here and I had snatched a picture from his thoughts. It was a picture of us, going through a concealed door.

  The far wall rose before us. I played the beam over it. There was no door, but there wouldn’t be, not a visible one. What had he seen? Where, exactly, had he seen us?

  “Well?” It was Fionn.

  I heard Ciara sigh. “Dad, please.”

  “I don’t want to be trapped and die down here at the hands of this incompetent whelp!”

  “Dad!”

  “Don’t feckin’ ‘Dad’ me! I’ll have the police on this lot of—”

  Sebastian’s cool voice cut right across him like a frozen razor. “Shut up, Mr. Fionn. If you don’t, I promise you that if Jake doesn’t cut your throat, I will. Do we understand each other? Shut up and do as you’re told.”

  I thought I heard Ciara snigger, but aside from that, there was only silence, and in that silence, I saw it. I stepped over to the wall, ran my hand over a few of the massive sandstone bricks, found the one and pushed. There was a loud rumbling of stone and a six-foot section of the wall rolled back.

  If the crypt was pitch-black, this was whatever comes next on the scale of darkness. I shone the light in and saw it was a narrow tunnel, just wide enough for one person, with steps cut out of the living limestone. I turned and shone the light at them. Ciara and Sebastian screwed up their eyes and Fionn covered his with his hand.

  I said, “Okay, we’re going down. Follow me, slowly and carefully.”

  The walls and the steps were damp and slippery, and the tunnel curved slightly to the right so that progress was tedious. A few feet ahead of us was perpetually in the dark. It was hard to keep track of time. But after a while, the steps became steeper and the tunnel straightened so that I could see maybe fifteen or twenty feet ahead. Now it was becoming a perilous slope, and we had to hold on to the walls to avoid slipping and falling.

  Then the walls fell away.

  We were in a vast cavern. It was impossible to see what lay on either side of us or ahead. I heard Fionn exclaim behind me, “Sweet mother of God! Jesus, Mary and sweet Joanna! Where in God’s name—?”

  I interrupted him and said, “Be quiet!”

  “Don’t feckin’ tell me to be—”

  “Shut up!” It was Ciara.

  In the silence that followed her voice, you could just make out the sigh, lap and whisper of water.

  I said, “We’re at an underground river.”

  “And now what?” It was Fionn again.

  I said, “Sit down. The steps are slimy and there’s nothing to hold on to. We’ll go down on our butts.”

  I was shining the light into the void, trying to make out shapes, trying to see where the water was. Behind me, I could hear Fionn still expostulating, but I was trying to ignore him. That was a mistake. I should have been paying closer attention, but I wasn’t.

  Somewhere in my peripheral hearing he was saying, “I will not sit on wet stone! You must be out of your tiny minds!”

  I guess he’d had enough of being bossed, scared and humiliated, and now he was going to take charge and be in control again. Whatever the reason, he did something real stupid. Suddenly, too late, I was paying attention.

  He was saying, “Get out of my way. Let me through. Come on, Ciara. I’ll get us out of this hellhole.”

  I was turning, shouting, “No!”

  In the beam of my flashlight, I saw Ciara snatching her hand from his grasp. Fionn stepped forward. He nudged me. I felt my balance going and crouched to drop my center of gravity and grip the step. I saw his foot slip and the look of terror on his face as he flailed his arms. I reached and grabbed for his jacket, but it was too late. He was falling. He took three tottering steps past me, slipped and fell screaming into the blackness. Over his scream I heard Ciara’s, “Daddyyyy!”

  It echoed around the dark emptiness of the cavern and my heart broke at the grief I heard in her voice. There was a loud splash and my heart leaped with hope. I scrambled down the steps, shining the light desperately ahead of me. Then I saw it, the smooth oily swirling of reflected light, and in the midst of it
, a black, bobbing head. I turned and rammed the phone into Ciara’s hand. “Shine it for me!” And I jumped, not knowing what was beneath me.

  As it turned out, I landed about twelve steps below on a small, pebbly beach. I could feel the water lapping at my feet, and in the light that Ciara was shining on the river, I could see Fionn spluttering about ten feet out. I put down my sword and bow then dived in. The water was freezing and deep, but the current wasn’t too strong. I surfaced just next to him.

  He was half-screaming, half-gasping and kept repeating, “I can’t swim! I can’t swim!”

  As he bobbed and spluttered, I eased behind him and grabbed him under his shoulders. Then I leaned away with him lying helpless with his back on my chest. I gripped him hard so he wouldn’t move and started to maneuver toward the shore, swimming against the current. After a few moments, my feet found the bottom, but it was slippery rock and I couldn’t get any purchase. Fionn was beginning to panic and struggle, grunting and thrashing. I wanted to call to Sebastian to come and help me, but Fionn was kicking so much that every time I opened my mouth, it flooded with water and I began to choke. My head went under. I kicked, but I couldn’t keep my footing and Fionn’s wild jerking was pushing me deeper. Through the water, I could hear muffled shouting. My lungs were screaming and the cold was making my chest go into spasm. I should have let him go and saved myself, but he was Ciara’s father, and I’d rather drown than cause her pain.

  In a last, desperate attempt, I squeezed my arms in a massive bear hug. Panic gave me a strength I didn’t know I had, and I crushed all the air out of his lungs. He went limp and I surfaced, gasping and shouting for air. On the shore, I saw Sebastian reaching out for me, gripping on to Ciara, who was shining my cell-phone flashlight at us. I kicked my feet until I was close enough for him to grab Fionn, and as they dragged him off me, I pulled myself out onto the sodden gravel and collapsed, panting and gasping.