Oracles of Delphi Keep (38 page)

“Don’t look at her!” Theo shouted, and she dashed out from behind Ian and slammed his and Perry’s and Thatcher’s torches to the ground.

“I say!” said Perry with irritated surprise. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Turn your heads away!” commanded Theo. “Whatever you do, don’t look into her eyes!”

“Blimey,” said Carl next to Ian, and Ian noticed in the very faint light that Carl’s gaze was caught on the descending figure. “She’s got
blue skin!”

Ian’s heart was hammering. Something told him that the figure coming down into the tunnel was the vilest evil. In near panic he reached out and grabbed Carl’s shirt collar and whipped him around. “Don’t look at her!” he commanded, and the next sound they heard chilled him to the bone.

“Ahhh,” said a voice, cold and cruel and so much like the grating of ice that it made Ian shiver. “Here you are at last!”

“I told you they were here,” said Searle. “I told you!”

“Yes. You have pleased Caphiera,” said the wicked creature at the bottom of the stairs, but Ian doubted there was any amount of warmth in the words.

To his right he heard Carl whisper, “Did she say
Caphiera?
Like Demogorgon’s daughter Caphiera?”

“Oh, my,” said the professor anxiously. “Oh, my, oh, my!”

There was a cackle that echoed down the walls at them. “You are familiar with my lineage, boy?” she called. “Ah, but I assumed my reputation had faded with my mother’s people. Perhaps you mortals have learned a thing or two recently?”

“The boy is right!” whispered the professor. “If that is Demogorgon’s daughter, whatever you do, don’t look into her eyes!”

Theo had tucked herself back behind Ian and he could feel her shivering. The temperature in the tunnel was acutely uncomfortable and breathing in seemed to burn his lungs. His mind raced wildly as he thought about fleeing, but there was nowhere to go. Caphiera had them cornered … just like Laodamia said she would.

He next heard the wretched blue woman say, “Now, Searle, fetch me the girl.”

Ian felt Theo stiffen behind him. He reached back with one arm and gave her a firm squeeze on her shoulder. He’d die before he’d let that beastly sorceress have her.

He could hear Searle approaching, and in the light cast by the torches onto the tunnel floor, he could make out the boy’s feet clomping toward him.

Ian moved slowly to the left, pulling Theo with him. He then turned and nudged her close to the side wall. Then he turned toward Searle and walked forward to intercept him, being careful not to look too far down the tunnel at Caphiera.

“Out of my way, you lazy git,” said Searle when they met in the middle, and the bigger boy moved to brush past Ian.

Ian, however, was far too angry to let the bully get by. He curled his hand into a fist and struck Searle hard in the cheek. “Stay away from her!” he yelled as Searle reeled backward, covering his face with his hand.

Behind him he heard Thatcher and Perry shouting, but
he was far too furious to care. Before Searle had a chance to recover, Ian had launched himself at his nemesis and the two boys tumbled to the ground, rolling over and over each other.

Searle had Ian by the hair and thumped his head against the rocky earth, sending a terrific bolt of pain through Ian’s skull. He retaliated by hooking two of his fingers into Searle’s nostrils and pulling up. Searle howled in pain and kicked furiously at Ian, but Ian wouldn’t let go. Finally, Searle managed to get out from the hold Ian had on him, and he scrambled to his feet and dashed down the tunnel before Ian tackled him again and sent them both crashing back to the floor.

He became aware of the pounding of footfalls along the tunnel floor in the distance and he knew that Perry and Thatcher were going to put an end to their fight, but Ian wasn’t about to stop on his own. He stood up and allowed Searle to get unsteadily to his feet. Panting heavily, Ian charged one last time. Searle put his arms up defensively but Ian lowered his shoulder right into the pudgy boy’s gut, sending Searle toppling backward to land faceup right at the edge of those silver boots.

At that instant Ian was grabbed roughly from behind and he knew that one of his schoolmasters had finally caught up to him. But his eyes were pinned to Searle’s face, because something terrible and truly frightening was happening to the brutish boy.

Ian saw that Searle’s eyes had grown large and his face was piteously frozen into an awful look of terror. Slowly,
Searle’s complexion was turning blue. Like an ink injected under his skin, the color was spreading along his cheeks, to his nose and lips, forehead and neck. An icy frost crawled along with the color until at last the boy looked like a stiff blue icicle.

“My heavens!” gasped Thatcher, and Ian realized that his schoolmaster was still gripping him tightly, peering over his shoulder.

“He’s frozen solid!” said Perry, who was standing next to Thatcher and staring down at Searle in horror.

One of the silver boots kicked Searle’s body. There was a clang when metal met ice. “That’s ghastly!” exclaimed Thatcher.

“Oh, I believe it’s an improvement,” said the sorceress with a truly wicked cackle.

Ian found he had to fight not to look up at her. His heart was pounding and guilt like he’d never experienced raged through him. All he could think of was that last tackle that had sent Searle to sprawl faceup at Caphiera’s feet. Numbly, he felt Thatcher pulling him again by the collar, backing away from the wretched scene. To his side he saw Perry moving in pace with them, the schoolmaster’s eyes still pinned to Searle’s cold body.

“Come away!” he heard Theo shout from the back of the tunnel. “All of you! Get away from her immediately!”

Her voice seemed to break the trance the three of them were under, and Perry, Ian, and Thatcher turned as one and ran.

Caphiera’s vile laughter followed them the entire distance. “Never send a boy to do a woman’s work.” She
clucked. Then, clearly turning her attention to Theo, she added, “You’re obviously the girl we’re after, and if you won’t come to me, allow me to come to you.”

Ian heard her silver heels clicking along the cold stone floor toward them, and the closer she got, the lower the temperature plummeted. “I’m so cold!” cried Theo.

“Schoolmaster!” Ian said to Perry. “Your rifle! Shoot a warning shot at her!”

Perry seemed startled to realize that he still held the weapon. He hesitated for the briefest moment before raising the gun at the approaching shadow of the sorceress. “I order you to stop!” he shouted. But the clicking of heels continued to come closer and closer. Perry fired a round into the wall near Caphiera’s head. The sound was like a cannon blast that reverberated back and forth along the tunnel.

When the echo faded, Ian noticed that Caphiera’s boot heels had stopped their clicking. “Very well,” she said from midway down the tunnel. “Have it your way.”

For a moment all was still; the only sound Ian heard was his own labored and panicked breathing. Suddenly, a bitter wind whipped by his cheek and then … the grinding began.

Ian couldn’t resist the urge to look up and he heard the collective gasp of the others doing the same. Just ahead of them, a solid wall of ice that spanned from floor to ceiling, and wall to wall, blocked them completely in. Ian tentatively reached down and picked up his pocket torch, careful to keep it low lest Caphiera be in front of the wall. He still had no idea what her face looked like, but he guessed she was as horrible as Medusa—one look and you were frozen stiff.

Thatcher too had bent to retrieve his torch and he and Ian shined their beams along the wall of ice, gasping simultaneously when they realized their peril. The wall of ice was moving closer, growing sharp icicle daggers clearly aimed to impale them.

“This can’t be happening!” said the professor from behind Ian.

“It isn’t real!” added Perry. “It can’t be.”

“We’re doomed!” cried Carl.

Ian watched as the icicles grew several more lethal inches.

Instinctively, he backed up until he pressed against solid rock. He waved his torchlight along the seams of the advancing wall of death, but no cracks or gaps appeared. As the icicles and the wall continued to advance, he had to agree with Carl. They were doomed.

“I
t’s getting closer!” Theo squealed as she darted out of the way of an approaching icicle only to stand next to the skeleton, mindless of its scary facade.

“I can’t find even a crack!” called Perry, still scanning his side of the ice wall with his torch.

Ian saw Carl dart to the side, and realized that his friend had retrieved the soldier’s short sword. With great bravery, Carl began trying to hack at the advancing ice. Ian, spurred to action, grabbed the heavy shield and lifted it to bang at the sharp icicles. But very quickly he and Carl both realized that when they lopped off the end of one of the spikes, it grew back within seconds—and to their horror it grew back longer, thicker, and with an even sharper point.

“Stop!” Ian shouted when he saw that they were only making things worse. Turning to Theo, he placed the heavy shield on the ground in front of her. “Hold this up,” he ordered. “It might protect you.”

He couldn’t clearly see Theo’s expression in the dim
light, but he sensed her gratitude when she said, “Squeeze in next to me!”

“There isn’t room, Theo,” he said softly.

“It’s getting closer!” yelled Carl, and he ducked to the rock wall, his back pressed firmly against it.

“Professor!” shouted Thatcher. “Try squeezing yourself into that corner.” And Ian looked to where he was pointing. On the opposite side of the cave from where he stood, Ian saw the smallest of niches.

“Let the children tuck in there!” said the professor, turning bravely to face the ice. “I’m an old man who’s lived a good life. I’m not afraid to die.”

Ian motioned to the crevice in the corner. “Carl,” he said. “Go on with you!”

“Not without you, mate!” said Carl.

“There isn’t room for both of us!” Ian yelled impatiently.

“Then there won’t be room for one,” Carl replied stubbornly “Maybe Theo should try squeezing in there and holding the shield. I’ll bet she could make it through this mess if she did that.”

Ian felt a great welling of gratitude and kinship for his new friend, along with a sudden sorrow that their friendship might soon be cut short. He lifted the shield away from a terrified Theo and ushered her into the crevice. “No matter what,” he ordered her shivering form as she squished into the tight corner, “you stay here and don’t move this shield!”

“Ian!” Theo exclaimed, but he cut her off by placing the shield in front of her. Behind him the grinding of the ice wall became louder, and he noticed that the other four in
the group were standing flat against the back wall, Carl still gripping his sword and Perry holding his rifle firmly.

Ian squeezed past the icicle spikes to join them, taking his place next to Carl as the wall approached them inch by terrible inch. “Perry!” yelled Thatcher above the loud noise of the advancing ice.

“What?” his brother yelled back, a note of panic in his voice.

“Blast it!”

“Blast
what
?”

“Blast the wall with your rifle! Maybe you can shoot a hole right through it!”

Ian watched anxiously as Perry yanked the gun up level with his chest. Gripping it with determination, he fired a round into the ice. A hole about the size of a fist appeared in the shiny surface. “Again!” shouted Thatcher, and Perry cocked the gun and fired a second time.

Ian’s heart leapt with joy, as the hole was now large enough for a head to fit through. “You’re doing it!” he shouted, squeezing himself as far back against the wall as he could. “Fire again before we’re all dead!”

Perry cocked the gun and fired a third time, and the hole became large enough for Carl to fit through. “Can you make it?” shouted Ian.

Carl’s eyes were wide with fear. “I think so!” he said.

“You’ll have to duck around that big spike!” said Ian. “Go on, mate! Try to get out of here!”

Carl inhaled deeply and took one small tentative step toward the opening. But the moment he did, something
terrible happened. Ice began to form rapidly over the hole; then—as if the wall were a living thing—a small nub formed and grew with increasing speed into a thick spike aimed directly at Perry’s head.

The schoolmaster darted to his side, dropping his rifle just as the spike struck the back wall with such force that Ian could feel the vibration shake the rock behind him.

Ian’s breath felt trapped in his lungs. He was unable to move, unable to breathe as he stared into the deadly spikes closing in on him. Besides his own fear, all he could feel was Carl’s quivering form pressed up against his side.

The grinding noise filled his ears like a terrible curse and he saw grimly that he would be impaled by no less than three spikes. The only thing he had left to hope for was that it would be over quickly.

He closed his eyes but couldn’t close his ears to the sound of Carl’s agonized scream. Reaching over, Ian squeezed his arm, wanting Carl to know he wasn’t alone in this terrible moment before death.

And then … as if in slow motion, Ian felt the solid flat firmness of the wall behind him evaporate. This unsettling feeling was immediately followed by the sensation of falling slowly through the air and landing with a hard
thunk
.

He hit the ground with such force that the back of his head bounced off the stone floor and he saw stars swim behind his eyelids as more pain ricocheted around the inside of his skull. And then someone was pulling at his arm and shirt collar and he realized that Theo was shouting at him.
“Get up! Ian, for God’s sake! Get up!”
she cried.

Ian scrambled woozily to his feet as something sharp
pierced his left calf with an intense searing pain, causing him to lurch forward. “Carl!” he heard Thatcher shout. “Come on, lad!
Move!
” Ian shook his head to clear it as the stars continued to float about. “Perry!” Thatcher yelled to his brother. “Get the professor out of range!”

Ian tried to focus his vision while he felt Theo’s small form duck under his arm and pull him forward. “Quickly!” she ordered, and with her help he staggered ahead several steps before collapsing back to the ground. With his head reeling, he looked over to see Thatcher half carrying, half dragging Carl’s limp form. Ian could see that his friend still clung to his sword.