Jack Templar and the Monster Hunter Academy: The Templar Chronicles: Book 2 (24 page)

I thought back to Eva’s lesson about trolls and how the Creach who live underground develop a stronger sense of smell in order to hunt. After sweating in my armor for the last couple of hours, I figured whatever creature was tracking me wouldn’t need any special skills to find me in the dark. Even with my cloaking medallion, hiding wasn’t going to work. I had two options. Fight or flight. I huddled against the rock, not sure which to choose. And then the creature caught my scent.

A roar erupted behind me. The ground literally shook as the creature stampeded in my direction. With only seconds to react, I stood, pulled my sword and raised it toward the beast. Shocked by the light, it stopped in place, temporarily confused.

I nearly dropped my sword from seeing what stalked me.

Chapter Fourteen

I
t was a Creach unlike I’d seen before—hairless, with pale, wrinkly skin crisscrossed with scar tissue from hundreds of old injuries. It walked on all fours, but its front legs were twice as long as its back, giving it a tall, ungainly look.  Each foot looked almost human, except for long black talons that stretched out and
click-clacked
against the rock floor.

The Creach’s head was an outlandish size, two or three times larger than what appeared possible for its body. It was boxy and dominated by a single enormous black eye that reminded me of the bats I’d seen earlier. A wide nose stretched out, engulfing nearly half its face. Below that was an even wider mouth with a lower jaw that jutted out, making room for giant teeth that stuck upward sharply past its upper lip.

Adding to its odd appearance was a mane of thick spines that looked like the quills of a giant porcupine. Even as I stood there shaking in fear, one of the lessons from the week before came to me and I remembered a description of a similar Creach. This was a cave ogre, and it was one nasty looking monster.

Beyond its horrifying and grotesque appearance was the sheer size of the creature. By the sound of it, I had expected it to be big. But when I pulled out my sword, I found myself looking at the lower part of its chest. I had to lean back and crane my neck upward to see all of it. The cave ogres described in class were supposed to be no bigger than a small horse. This one was every bit as big as an elephant, and scarier than anything I’d ever seen.

Unfortunately, it seemed to have the memory of an elephant too, and it quickly got over the initial shock of the light and remembered that it was stalking its dinner. It reared up on its hind legs and then slammed its claws into the ground. The violence of the action caused a half-dozen or more of the spines from its mane to fly at me through the air like arrows. I dove to the side behind a rock and heard them smash into the ground around me. The Creach roared and stomped its feet.

I quickly decided fighting wasn’t the best plan. It was time to run.

I grabbed one of my flash grenades and flung it at the ogre as hard as I could. I covered my eyes as it exploded on its thick skin, the flash lighting up the cave. The Creach screamed, but I knew the grenade didn’t have enough power to actually hurt the beast; I hoped that it would at least stun it for a few seconds. I took the opportunity to ran as hard as I could down the trail, in the direction of the water.

Only a few seconds later I heard the heavy footsteps behind me. A look over my shoulder confirmed the cave ogre was smashing its way along the path, knocking rocks out of the way with its arms and shoulders. I grabbed two more of the grenades and chucked them blindly behind me. They exploded in rapid succession and the ogre roared. I’d bought myself another few seconds. I felt inside my backpack. I only had two grenades left. Not good.

I spun out on the gravel floor as I turned a corner in the path, barely catching myself from crashing. When I looked up, I realized the air was filled with the roar of running water. Using the light from my sword, I ran toward it, thinking the river might be a way to escape the four-footed death machine chasing me. It had worked once before when I had escaped Ren Lucre, although I had died as a result and only came back to life after T-Rex gave me CPR. There was no T-Rex in these caves to save me this time. But the cave ogre smashing through the rocks behind me left no doubt that I had to do something creative to escape.

But as I ran toward the water, my heart sank. The path ended at the edge of another crevasse, a deep cut in the rock about twenty feet wide and at least twice that deep. Through this narrow funnel raged a torrent of white water that looked like it was jetting out of a massive fire hose. A wooden bridge extended from the path across the river. Thick ropes formed handholds on both sides and planks of wood were tied together to make the bridge itself.

While I was excited at the prospect of having a way across, it looked like the thing was built hundreds of years ago and probably hadn’t been used since. On closer inspection, many of the boards were rotted away and the ropes were hopelessly frayed. I looked down through a hole in the bridge at the river below. Jagged rocks poked up from the wild, frothy water. Falling in would mean certain death.

A snarl behind me reminded me that certain death was also chasing me from behind. Desperate, I looked up and down the length of the cliff edge. There were no other options.

“Here goes nothing,” I said.

With a cry, I ran onto the bridge.

The rope on the right side immediately snapped and I tipped over the edge. I grabbed the rope on the left and regained my balance. Moving slower, I worked my way across the bridge, trying to avoid the most rotten boards.

The ogre reached the bridge and screamed at me in frustration. I turned and, feeling a little cocky, gave him a little wave.

“Sorry, buddy. Maybe next time,” I said.

I doubt the cave ogre spoke English, but it apparently knew when someone was making fun of him. It roared and then followed that with a high-pitched scream. It backed up down the path, clawing at the floor. With horror, I realized it was preparing itself for a running start. I moved as fast as I dared on the rocking bridge and reached the other side of the cliff just as the ogre bolted toward the ravine.

It launched itself off the cliff edge, reaching out with its overly long front legs for the opposite side.

It fell short and smashed into the wooden bridge, obliterating it in a tangle of rope and splinters. The ogre tried to grab onto the sheer face of the cliff, but its talons slid right off the slick rock. Screaming, it tumbled down into the river below.

I fell backward and rested on a rock, trying to catch my breath and slow down my pounding heart. Slowly, the euphoria I felt from escaping the cave ogre was replaced by a scary realization. I had no way of getting back over the river.  Once I found the ring—if I found it—then I was going to have to find an entirely new exit.

“Find the ring first,” I said to myself. “Then worry about getting out of here. One thing at a time.”

I knew it was good advice, but it didn’t make me feel any better. Knowing the way back home was the one small comfort I had carried with me from the beginning of the quest. Now that that was gone, I felt like my chances of survival, slim to begin with, were steadily migrating toward being non-existent.

I took a drink from the water bottle in my backpack and then forced myself to stand up. I had never solved a problem by feeling sorry for myself and I didn’t figure this time was going to be any different. The only solution was to keep pushing forward, no matter the odds, no matter the obstacles.

Out of nowhere, I pictured Eva’s face and heard the last words she had said to me.
Do your duty
.
I suddenly wished I had said something better in return to her. Something more significant. I thought back to the kiss she gave me before I faced Ren Lucre. Just the memory of it somehow made me feel a little stronger.

Surveying the area, I noticed the path on this side of the bridge was even harder to find. Rockslides from the steep walls had littered the ground with piles of loose stone. Still, even without being able to see the path, I knew where I had to go. I picked my way over the rock field toward three tunnels cut into the mountain just ahead of me.

Unlike the caves I'd been hiking through for the last several hours, these were obviously man-made. They were large, arched openings, twice my height and just about as wide. They also each had identical wrought iron gates bolted straight into the solid rock. At least, I assumed they had once been gates. They lay twisted and broken on the ground, only jagged fragments still attached to ancient hinges. Whatever had busted through the gates had done a number on them.

I held my sword up to each tunnel, trying to penetrate into the inky gloominess. I had a bad feeling that the choice I made here was going to spell the difference between success and failure, life and death, so I looked for any clues that would guide me on the right path. Nagging me in the back of my mind was the knowledge that I didn't know if any of the tunnels were the right choice. I didn't even know whether I was anywhere near the right section of the cave.

I realized just how much I had invested in Eva's information that I had to cross a river and that the ring was in a manmade room. Even Aquinas had said she didn't know if the book was accurate, but it was all I had. And I was learning that sometimes that's what it takes to keep hope alive: just some small glimmering chance that things are going to work out.

I figured if she was right, then manmade tunnels had a good chance of leading to manmade rooms. But which one?

I waved my sword over the archway, looking for clues. The stone around the edge was shiny and smooth, as if something had repeatedly rubbed against it. Still, faint and barely visible, I felt etchings in the rock, but they were too worn away to tell what they had said.

I stepped back in frustration and looked at all three openings, considering my next move.

I rummaged through my backpack and dug out my water bottle, trying to think the problem through. When I slid the water bottle back in, my hand nudged against the spray bottle of glow paint. I pulled it out and weighed it in my hand, letting an idea take form.

I stepped up to the first tunnel and sprayed the glow paint all around the edge. The paint highlighted even the most faint marks in the stone, even those invisible to the naked eye. Everywhere I sprayed, carvings seemed to pop out from the rock in perfect detail. While I was pleased my idea worked, what I saw didn't exactly fill me with all kinds of warm fuzzy feelings.

The archway was covered with rows and rows of skulls.

All with enormous empty sockets and mouths open as if locked in eternal, silent screams.

I sprayed the second tunnel and the exact same carvings popped out at me. I wasn't sure what I was hoping to find on the third tunnel—maybe smiley faces, indicating that it was the right choice? Not a chance. Identical screaming skulls covered the entrance to the last tunnel as well. I stepped back and looked at my handiwork; three glowing archways of super-creepy skulls stared out at me, mocking my frustration.

"Well, I wouldn't call that an improvement," I said out loud, half wondering how long it would take for me to have longer conversations with myself, ultimately devolving into Golem, the character from
The Lord of the Rings
books
.
I decided that I would draw the line when I started repeating, “
My Precious…”
 

I was about to put the paint away when I noticed I had missed a spot on the last arch. Since everything else had repeated the pattern over and over, I had stopped spraying the paint about a foot before hitting the ground, a spot about the size of one more skull.

Shaking the can, I kneeled down on the ground and ran my hand over the area. I barely felt anything. Even though the paint was my one precious light source, I sprayed the last little section of rock.

A Templar Cross burst out from the wall as if I had set it on fire. I rocked back and stared. This was it. This was my tunnel. I slid the paint in my backpack, got to my feet and hustled into the opening...running straight into a pile of skeletons.

I heard them first. A brittle crack, crack, crack as bones snapped underfoot. I pointed my sword down and saw my foot was stuck in the middle of a human ribcage. Grossed out, I shook my foot to get it free. This had the unfortunate effect of making the entire skeleton shake and gyrate like it was coming back to life. I finally pulled my foot free and stumbled backward, stomping into another pile of old bones. An ancient human skull, looking just like the ones carved into the rock outside, rolled to the side so that its face stared up at me. I kicked at it with my boot and it soared through the air like a soccer ball, clattering into the dark.

As I listened to the skull rattle around and finally come to a rest, I felt a pang of guilt. As the initial shock wore off, it occurred to me that these skeletons were likely hunters from the past who had been on the same quest as me. And there I was, stomping through their remains, basically desecrating their graves. And not only monster hunter graves, but the graves of other creatures too. As I looked closer at the piles of bones littering the floors, I saw that only a few of them appeared human. There were long serpentine skeletons with rib cages that looked like they were made of fish bones. Massive skulls with horns. Squat bodies with boney armor plating. Creatures with two or three heads. Small bodies the size of dogs. And, spread throughout, piles of hundreds, if not thousands, of skeletons of small rodents.

I swallowed hard, wondering where the creature was that had done all this killing. Either this was its lair and I was on the wrong track, or the creature that had done all this was the protector of the ring and I was getting close.

I didn't know which it was, but I liked the idea that there was at least a logical chance I might be closing in on my goal. It looked like the bones were ancient, so I held out hope that the creature had long since died or moved on to look for food elsewhere. As I picked my way over the field of bones, I had a sneaking suspicion that this was wishful thinking and that it wasn't going to be that easy.