The Dragon's Descent

by Laurice Elehwany Molinari

  “Prove it.” Raziel looked hard into Vero’s eyes. “Find your way out of the maze.”

  “A maze?” Vero asked while scanning the solid walls. There was no way out. Panic came over him. “How?”

  “If you truly believe faith can move mountains, then four walls should be no big deal.” Raziel smirked, then simply walked through a wall and disappeared.

  Vero stood there, considering what Raziel had said. “Time runs short? What is that supposed to mean?” Vero ran his hands over the walls, hoping there was some secret door, a way out. He’d even settle for a doggie door. But the walls were solid stone.

  “Ahh!” he screamed in frustration and banged his fists on a wall. “How the heck did he just walk through the wall?!”

  Vero slid to the floor. He put his head in his hands.

  “There’s got to be a way out of this,” he mumbled to himself.

  But then he had another thought. What if there isn’t? Raziel had never liked him. What if Raziel had called him back to the Ether without the others knowing? What if Raziel was trying to do him in?

  Vero lifted his head out of his hands. Were his eyes playing tricks on him or did the wall across from him suddenly seem closer? He jumped up, and the top of his head scraped the ceiling. Then it dawned on him—the room was closing in! He began to shake with fear. He was going to be squished to death, and end up in the choir of angels—if that was even still a possibility for him! He was completely distraught. But then Vero remembered his Vox Dei—the voice of God. He could always rely upon it no matter what the situation.

  As the walls grew closer, Vero closed his eyes, placed his hand over his heart, and began to pray with such intensity that beads of sweat dripped down his face. With all his heart, he beseeched God to guide him. After a few moments, a confident smile formed on Vero’s lips. He stretched out his arms. His fingers spread apart on the dense walls and then he simply pushed.

  They fell away easily. The sidewalls crumbled upon the ground, yet the ceiling held above him. It had stopped moving. Vero had no idea what was holding it up, but he was grateful. He climbed over the rubble for a few feet then stood and looked around. Before him was a narrow space, wide enough that maybe only three people standing shoulder to shoulder could pass through. Dark, curved stone walls—easily fifteen feet tall—stood on either side of him. Somehow, this place felt very surreal to Vero. As if he were inside someone else’s dream . . . a feeling he was familiar with. During the angel trials, Vero and his fellow fledglings—Greer, Pax, Kane, X, and Ada—had all been inside one of Greer’s dreams. Vero remembered how quickly things could change in that sleep-induced world; how frightening it could be, and how not everything made perfect sense.

  A short distance ahead, he saw that the walls formed multiple pathways—here was the maze that Raziel spoke of. When Vero looked up, he saw that terrifying gargoyles lined the tops of the walls, appearing to leer down at him. The pathways were so narrow that the stone creatures nearly touched one another overhead. He could see slivers of sky sneaking through, enough to provide light below. Only a few inches separated the frightening statues, which meant Vero could not fly out. His only way out was to find his way through.

  As Vero walked ahead, he stared at the gargoyles. It appeared to him that no two were alike. Some were winged. Some were half human, half animal. Others resembled human ghosts. One appeared to be a dragon while another looked like an oversized bat. All were grotesque, with distorted human or animal forms. Each was scary, especially the monkey with sharp, webbed wings that held a dagger in its paw while baring its teeth. Vero shuddered.

  After just a few yards inside the maze, he came upon a fork in the path. Vero had no idea which way to turn, as both options looked the same. Vero looked left, then right, and left again, totally perplexed. Then he saw something out of the corner of his eye. As he turned his head toward it, a shadowed blur quickly disappeared. Were his eyes playing tricks on him?

  Vero then heard what sounded like the slow inhale and exhale of a person. A blast of hot air hit the back of his exposed neck, sending chills down his spine. He spun around, looking for the source, only to see a shadow that flickered out of his peripheral vision. Vero was suddenly overcome with the unsettling feeling of impending doom. He needed to get out of there! Again, he considered left, then right, but when he looked back to the left, fear seized him. A strange, human-shaped silhouette with glowing green eyes stood staring at him from only a few feet away.

  The decision resolved, Vero sprinted down the path on his right. As he ran, he continuously glanced over his shoulder, catching glimpses of darker-than-night shadows pursuing him in earnest. He couldn’t outrun them, but after several minutes the shadows disappeared. Vero’s legs burned, and he needed to stop for air. He turned his back to the wall for protection and put his hands on his knees, catching his breath.

  Moments later, Vero lifted his head. His eyes drifted up to the eerie gargoyles above him, then suddenly he felt ice-cold hands closing around his neck. They felt bony, yet Vero could only see dark shadows tightening around his throat. The hands squeezed harder and harder until Vero thought he’d pass out. Losing air, he jerked away from the wall and landed in a heap on the ground. His eyes caught a black mist disappearing back into the wall, and a different shadow drifted down the path above him. Its green eyes illuminated the horrific faces of the gargoyles as it passed. Nowhere was safe. Vero leaped to his feet and ran deeper down the path.

  The faster he ran, the more shadows appeared and pursued him. Soon, the path behind Vero became a sea of burning green eyes and dark apparitions. Vero was already badly outnumbered, and he realized that running only made it worse. He came to an abrupt stop, taking the shadows by surprise. They too stopped, malevolent eyes watching for his next move. Vero closed his eyes, and instantly his sword sprung forth from the palm of his hand. He grabbed it by the hilt and swung the blade at the dark entities, slicing one from head to bottom. Vero’s eyes widened when he realized that his blade had passed right through it, the entity unharmed. A sinister laugh echoed through the hallway. His sword was useless against these things. His weapon disappeared back into his palm as he momentarily considered his options. There weren’t any, so he turned and ran again.

  His level of fear rose as the number of shadows continued to grow. The swarming mass of black chased him, pushing him deeper into the maze. Vero’s heart skipped when he saw the original lone shadow standing a few feet ahead of him, blocking his way forward. He was trapped, in front and behind. Sweat ran down his flushed face as he turned to the tangled mass of black clouds and green eyes. He was sick of these creepy shadows. He realized he was powerless and could run no farther. The thought made him angry, and that anger spurred a moment of courage. Vero stood tall before the charging mass and bravely faced them. As an angry pair of glowing green orbs darted at his face, Vero refused to blink. The shadow stopped and inched away, staring deep into Vero’s unwavering eyes.

  “What?” Vero screamed. “C’mon . . . let’s see what you got! Do it . . . I’m not afraid!” For a split second, the brooding green eyes gave a look of surprise, and then, poof!—the dark entities all disintegrated and disappeared.

  Vero turned. The lone creature was also gone. Vero let out a sigh of relief and looked up at the gargoyles. No black shadows clouded their faces. As he headed down the path encased by walls and towering gargoyles, Vero wondered what had caused all the shadows to vanish. The thought of the solitary black figure sent a shudder through his body. As he looked down the path, he once again saw a pair of the green eyes staring menacingly at him. “Oh, man! Not again!” Vero yelled.

  Vero turned and ran back the way he had come. He glanced over his shoulder. The figure slowly and methodically followed him, as if it knew Vero could not escape and so there was no need to rush. Vero’s fear spiked. Suddenly, scores of the black shadow creatures streamed from
the mouths of the gargoyles. He ran even faster. What had made them vanish before? Vero wondered. Had they just been messing with me?

  But then a thought occurred to him. They had disappeared the moment he stood his ground—when he stood tall, and his fear had vanished. And they had reappeared when his fright had returned. Was it his own panic and lack of confidence that drew the black shadows to him?

  Vero looked every which way for an out—every single inch of the narrow path was dark with the entities and their glowing eyes. And then one grabbed Vero around his neck with both hands and lifted him off the ground. Vero gagged as he struggled for air. An angry mob began to swarm beneath him, clawing at him, each one trying to take a piece of him away. As the hands around his neck tightened, Vero eyed the shadow creature. Once again, his fear gave way to anger. His defiant resolve returned, and Vero spat at the creature. “Get off of me . . . now,” he said calmly and firmly. His fear abated, Vero again produced his sword. Looking the creature in the eyes, he fearlessly cut the shadow hands from around his neck. This time, his sword had power.

  The creature’s eyes went wide as it vaporized into thin air. Vero fell back against the wall and watched as the swirling horde of shadows vanished. Moments later, he stood. There was no sign of the entities anywhere. He retracted his sword. His theory had been correct—his fear of the shadows was what drew them to him. And it was his own lack of confidence that had initially rendered his sword powerless. Vero straightened his back and raised his head high, determined to no longer fear the shadows, or his ability to vanquish them.

  As Vero continued down the path, he glanced up once more at the rows of gargoyles. He had read about them last year in his seventh-grade World History class. Placed on top of cathedrals and castles, they served as waterspouts that directed rain off the roofs through the gargoyles’ mouths, but no one really knew the exact reason why the statues were so unappealing and frightening to look upon. Some historians felt they were placed to ward off evil spirits. Others claimed the gargoyles were evil themselves and were meant to frighten people so they would run into the church for protection. Staring up at a particularly scary statue with a distorted, angry, ape-like face with horns protruding from its head, Vero hoped the former was the correct explanation.

  As he walked, Vero noticed that sparse clusters of grass broke through the stone ground like weeds clinging to life between cracks in the sidewalk. He started to hear the song of crickets and he crinkled his nose. The musty-smelling air gave way to the smell of a barnyard. Vero was suddenly reminded of the small petting zoo that had taken over their backyard for Clover’s ninth birthday. As he rounded a corner, Vero was faced with another split in the path. Taking a step toward the right side, he heard the faintest sound of a running river. Thinking of the three beautiful waterfalls in the far more forgiving region of the Ether, where souls cleansed themselves before meeting God, he decided to follow the sound. Vero’s excitement increased as the sound grew clearer and louder with every step he took. As he rounded a corner, he stepped out into a wider, taller corridor.

  Vero hadn’t realized how claustrophobic he had been in the smaller corridors of the maze until he stepped into this new, bigger space. To accommodate the added width, the gargoyles had also gotten bigger, maintaining a canopy top that prevented any escape by flight. There was flowing water here, though the trickle of the stream that cut right across the path in front of him could not be the source of the sound he had been following. As he stepped over it and walked ahead, the noise of rapidly flowing water became almost deafening. Vero’s head whipped around. A feeling of dread came over him. The tiny stream had somehow magically swelled into a raging river.

  “Weird,” Vero said aloud. “Guess I won’t be going back that way.”

  Ahead on the wall to his left, Vero saw a large cave-like entrance, illuminated by flickering torches. Vero rested against the stone wall for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. Moments later, he walked into the cave. The deeper he went into the cave, the fainter the sound of the river became. He started to hear a new sound. “Is that the clucking of chickens?” Vero wondered. This maze was so weird.

  Confused, Vero wearily approached the source of the sound. Before him, the cave seemed to open into a much larger chamber. He distinctly heard a great multitude of chickens, echoing against every crevice of the cave. Scattered around the chamber were what appeared to be life-size statues of angels, made of some sort of whitish plaster. Some had their wings fully open, while others did not. Vero noticed looks of either shock or terror on every face. He was reminded of Medusa’s garden from the mythology stories his dad had read to him as a little kid. One glance at Medusa’s hideous face instantly turned the viewer to stone trophies she kept in her garden. Mindful of this, Vero decided to keep his eyes on the floor, as a precaution.

  He darted through a multitude of statues, making sure to stick to the wall of the ever-expanding chamber. Wondering what could have transformed these angels, he bumped into a statue of a young girl of about nine or ten, who had her mouth open in terror, her head turned away from the wall. She was holding on to a pencil, which was still touching the wall, as if she had been trying to write something. Vero saw faint letters, faded with time. All he was able to read on the wall was “c katr ce.”

  Pondering what letters were missing, Vero pushed on. On the other side of the large chamber, a smaller passageway led into a smaller chamber. He continued into the inner cave. Suddenly, a rush of feathers hit his face. He coughed as he spit a plume out of his mouth. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve, still careful to keep his eyes down. On the ground, surrounding him, were hundreds of drab-colored hens pecking the dusty floor of the cave. Peeking through his half-closed eyes, Vero saw that these hens were maybe two or three times the size of the ones on earth, standing well above his knee height. Vero wondered what this place was. What had the terrified statue girl been trying to write? Was it a warning? He recalled the letters, “c katr ce.”

  “Who are you, and why have you come to my den?” a smooth, deep voice called out to him, startling Vero, who opened his eyes wide and took in his environment. He saw a cave about the length of a basketball court, full of hens and statues, before quickly returning his glance to the floor.

  “Who are you?” Vero shouted.

  “I am called the cockatrice,” the voice replied, sounding only a few feet away.

  Cockatrice! That’s what the girl had written. Vero now knew exactly what the creature was. The books of Isaiah and Jeremiah had both mentioned the cockatrice—the half rooster, half serpent creature that, like Medusa, possessed a gaze that turned living things to stone. If Vero looked it in the eyes, he’d be added to the cockatrice’s collection of statues. Vero tightly shut his eyes.

  “I’m not here to harm you,” Vero shouted over the clucking hens. “Just passing through. I need to make my way through the maze. Any chance you could tell me the way out?”

  “Forget the maze! You should be asking how to leave my den,” the cockatrice said.

  “Great! Tell me which way, and I’m gone,” Vero said.

  “To leave here, there is but one way. You must outwit me . . . or remain my ‘guest’ forever.”

  Vero gulped.

  “It’s not so bad. I’ve never heard even a single complaint from anyone here.” The cockatrice smirked.

  “On second thought, never mind. I’ll just go back the way I came.”

  “No, fledgling. You must succeed where all the others have failed. You must outwit me. How hard could that be? After all, I’m nothing but an overgrown rooster.” The cockatrice laughed nastily.

  “You’re also half serpent, with a killer gaze,” Vero added.

  “Ah, but I am so beautiful to behold, one look at me is worth ten thousand deaths.”

  “I don’t think so. I already got a peek at some of your hens,” Vero said. “An
d they didn’t exactly do it for me.”

  “They are not as beautiful as I am. I am one of a kind,” the cockatrice said in a soothing voice. “Open your eyes and stare at me. I’m right in front of you.”

  Vero instinctively stepped back. His sword sprung forth from his hand, and he held it out defensively.

  “There’s no need for violence,” the cockatrice scolded.

  “If I slay every chicken in here, eventually I’ll get to you,” Vero said as he swung his sword, keeping his head down.

  “You’d senselessly slaughter all these innocents?” the cockatrice sneered. “That would be a huge sin, angel.”

  “As opposed to using those innocents to hide behind?”

  The cockatrice snickered. “I’m no angel.”

  Vero knew it was true. But he had learned his lesson from the shadows—he would show no fear. Fear gave his opponent an instant advantage. How was he going to outwit the cockatrice . . . especially since he couldn’t even look at it? And if he could—did he look like all the other birds? Except, Vero thought, he has a serpent’s tail, and the others would not.

  “Look at me,” the cockatrice said in a soothing voice. “You can’t keep your eyes closed forever.”

  Vero closed his eyes even tighter.

  “Eventually curiosity will get the better of you. It always does,” the cockatrice chuckled.

  Vero was working on a plan. If he could keep the cockatrice talking, he might be able to zero in on it.

  “Don’t you have better things to do than prey upon fledgling angels?” Vero asked.

  “Not anymore. There was a time long ago, when I preyed upon humans.”

  “I doubt that,” Vero said as he stepped forward, following the voice.

  “I once dwelt in the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah,” the cockatrice boasted. “I was there when the angels destroyed the cities.”

  Vero inched a few feet to his right, toward the voice.