The Paladin Prophecy

THE CAVES

The snow had slowed to flurries when Will left the boathouse and started after Lyle. The tracks and furrows of the snowmobile led Will deep into the woods. He dodged and lunged over the unfamiliar ground, training all his senses ahead, calling on his speed to keep pace or narrow Lyle’s lead.

Will pulled up his sensory grid, throwing it out ahead to track Lyle, but it felt muddy, imprecise, and he realized that his hearing, stunned by the sonic explosion, played a major role in this ability to “see.” He couldn’t find Lyle anywhere, and as the ground grew steeper and rockier, he needed more time to pick his path. He left the trees and crossed onto a clear plateau that sloped gradually up toward the ridgeline, where, high above, were the caves he’d noticed the other day.

As he crested the next rise, Will caught a glimpse of Lyle on the snowmobile, moving straight for the ridge. As his hearing returned, Will heard a sound like the distant buzzing of a swarm of angry hornets. He thought it must be Lyle’s engine, but then he realized it was coming from behind him.

Three more snowmobiles were cutting and plunging through the drifts, approaching from behind him to the east. Three more Knights: Ben Franklin, George Washington, and the Wolf. All three masks had rifles strapped across their backs. They were less than a hundred yards away.

Will would reach the base of the ridge in another minute. The snowmobiles weren’t gaining on him, but it occurred to Will that catching him might not be their plan. Maybe they wanted to herd him this way and flush him into the open where they could stop, sit back at range, and pick him off with their rifles.

But if the situation escalated to life-threatening, Will knew his insurance policy would kick in. Dave hadn’t let him down yet, four times without fail. He could count on his angel riding to the rescue. Couldn’t he?

Will hopped over a line of boulders and glanced at his watch: seven minutes since he’d left the boathouse. Help should reach his friends within fifteen minutes of Ajay’s alert. He just had to keep the Knights occupied until then.

As he neared the escarpment, Will saw Lyle scrambling up a rough path in the face of the rock. Piles of rubble ran along the edge of the path, offering some cover. Will passed Lyle’s abandoned snowmobile, struggled through a field of loose, crumbled shale, and reached the bottom of the path. He looked up; he had forty yards to climb, with two switchbacks, to reach the ridge. Will ducked behind a rock and looked back.

The other snowmobiles had stopped in a cluster, fifty yards back. The drivers, already dismounted, rifles cradled in their arms, were walking toward the bottom of the ridge.

If they plan to shoot me, this would be the place. And if I want my friends to figure out where the hell I am, a few gunshots ringing out in this cold clear air should do the trick.

Will took a deep breath and sprinted straight up the gradient. Something kicked off a rock three feet to his right before he heard the report of the rifle. Another shot ricocheted to his left, and a third hit just behind him. Will dropped behind a low cluster of rocks, about halfway up the path.

“Any time, Dave,” he grunted. “Now would be really good.”

Will looked up and saw Lyle pulling himself over the top onto the ridge. As Will looked back, a fourth shot kicked off the rocks just in front of him. Will launched himself up the path, pulling with his hands, driving hard with his legs, bursting out of hiding so quickly that the next few shots landed well behind him. As he turned the final switchback, the last ten feet to the top left him completely exposed, so he kept pushing and grabbing and pulling until—

He leaped for the top of the ridge, scrabbled over, and rolled away from it as three shots in a tight pattern zipped just above him. One clipped the shoulder of his down vest and feathers flew into the air.

Will lay still, gasping for breath, cradled in snow as the rifles’ sharp reports echoed off the rocks. He raised his head just enough to look around for Lyle. The ridge, snow laden and only thirty feet across at its widest, ran off in both directions until it curved and disappeared. Another sheer rock wall, unscalable, rose straight ahead of him.

Lyle was nowhere to be seen. The mouth of the largest cave, taller than he was, opened in the wall straight ahead. Two slightly smaller caves cut in on either side of it.

Which cave is he in?

Will peered back over the ridge. The three riflemen had made no move to follow him. Will looked at his watch: fifteen minutes. Good. The cavalry should have reached the boathouse and connected with Ajay, and if they’d heard the shots, they might already be on their way.

But how quickly would they be able to find him?

Will crept toward the caves. The Paladin mask lay in the snow outside the central cave. Will took out his Swiss Army knife and unfolded the biggest blade. He peered into the darkness of the central cave. A slight breeze blew from inside, and he smelled something foul in the air. Something old and sour and forbidding.

Then he heard Lyle’s voice call out from somewhere deep inside. “I guess you don’t know what an oik is, West.”

Will froze. Lyle’s voice echoed and rolled. The caves sounded very deep.

“An oik is a clot. A commoner. A lesser being of the lower classes, the kind who used to know their place. Visit a mall. Ride a bus. Walk into any public school. They’re infested with them.”

Will stepped into the smaller cave on the left and crouched in the shadows just inside, waiting for his eyes to adjust. He collected two round rocks the size of baseballs and stuck them into the pockets of his vest. He couldn’t see Lyle yet, so he closed his eyes, pulled up the grid, and found him:

Thirty yards to the right, in the next chamber. He saw that all the caves were interconnected, a vast warren of chambers and passages honeycombing the entire ridge.

“The problem is you oiks don’t know your place anymore. Oh, you still want your bread and circuses, your junk food and blood sports. But a steady diet of garbage isn’t enough to pacify you now. You think because our culture panders to all your infantile impulses that now you’re supposed to have a voice. That we should have to listen to you.”

Will inched forward to the nearest opening in the sandstone. A white-hot glow issued from the chamber to his right.

“You believe you’re all so special! You couldn’t possibly be responsible for your own dead-end lives—you’ve got too much self-esteem. You’re all stars just waiting to be discovered. Forget self-discipline or education or knowing the right people. The world’s one big talent show and all you have to do is show up.”

Will reached the edge of the passage and peeked around; the ceiling of the adjacent chamber arched up more than thirty feet. It was illuminated by the unnatural light issuing from the hooked steel rod—the Carver—that Lyle held in his hand. He was using the rod to trace a huge circle in the air, nearly complete, over six feet in diameter. Its rough outline burned with blinding intensity.

“We stand for something different here. Eternal verities: honor, values, leadership. Now more than ever. A new breed ready to maintain our traditions. It was all going according to plan until you walked in. An oik crashing the cocktail party. Well, let me make one thing perfectly clear: Over my dead body.”

Lyle finished tracing the circle. An energy field crackled to life around the edges, the air blurred and glimmered, and a portal slowly opened inside the circle. Lyle held up the rod, the glyphs engraved in its handle glowing brightly.

Dave’s got my back. With that thought fortifying him, Will gripped one of the rocks in his pocket and stepped forward. “If that’s the way you want it, Lyle.”

Lyle whipped around, and his wild eyes found Will. “You know what happened to the last people who stood in our way? They call themselves Native Americans, as if they were here first.”

“They were here first.”

“Those pathetic primitives believed these caves led to the underworld,” said Lyle. “That their gods used them to pass between here and the spirit realm. They had it all wrong.” Lyle held up his hands to the hole, proudly displaying his handiwork. “The only passage here now is to the Old Ones … in the Never-Was.”

Lyle pointed the rod at Will and a beam of burning white light shot out at him. Will pushed out a thought shield just in time and deflected the beam into a wall, but it nearly knocked him over. Lyle was still stronger, and with that weapon in hand, he was a lot stronger. Will ducked back into cover. Two more bursts followed, cracking the rock, blasting holes in the walls.

What if Dave isn’t coming this time? What was it he said? “Learn. Learn fast.”

Will rose up and threw the first stone three feet to Lyle’s right. Lyle smiled confidently and raised the rod to fire again. Will closed his eyes, stretched out his grid, and found the rock flying into the darkness. He grabbed hold and found a way to invest its mass with some part of himself. Then all he had to do was think about it: The rock swung around and boomeranged back toward Lyle.

I’m learning.

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