his dying grandfather just before being knocked unconscious. So much had happened so quickly. The pain of loss for his grandfather had not yet grown inside of him merely because of his focus on his own survival. But grieving would come in time. He slung the shotgun over his shoulder. It would be useful should the Stühocs catch up to them before Silas and Kaden could reach the gate. Near the entrance of the cave Silas saw Marcus and Theron’s bodies where the two had left them a short time ago. Silas’ stomach twisted in knots, and he had to look away from their corpses.
“How deep into the cave is this gate?” Silas asked looking anywhere but at the ground.
Kaden didn't answer quickly. Silas watched as he studied the cave from the firelight of the torches. Rock formations towered throughout the cave. It was a wonderful, natural beauty marred only by the memory of death and torture taken place over a two-day span.
“I came here from a different location,” Kaden said, almost to himself. “But Garland assured me that the gate was through this cave.”
“Where exactly does this gate lead?”
“Marenon,” Kaden said.
“Mare-what?”
“Marenon. It’s where your grandfather is now. It’s where you will be safe.”
Silas shook his head confused and drained. Kaden seemed to be speaking nonsense, but to his credit, actual Stühocs had just attacked them. Until recently, Silas had not thought that possible. Maybe it didn’t make sense now, but he would have to trust Kaden and wait for answers. Now was not that time.
They made their way through the cave, following the path. They marched steeper down toward the gate Garland had said was there. Neither Kaden nor Silas knew how far it was. It could have been any distance.
Kaden grabbed one of the torches hanging on the wall that had long since gone out and lit it once again for their descent. The path narrowed considerably as they moved and they soon found themselves hunched over with little space to run. Knowing that the Stühocs were on their trail and that a Stühoc lord named Maroke led the vile creatures, Silas felt a surge of panic at their slow mobility. Several times, the sword and gun over his shoulder hit the cave top as they moved forward. He pulled the gun to his side and gripped it tightly. It had only two shells and though he preferred the sword, the gun would do well in an enclosed space.
They continued down the shaft until Silas felt as though he might topple forward in his effort to crouch low enough. The fire from Kaden’s torch flickered faintly ahead of him, calling him to follow. Soon, the cave began to expand and the two of them found themselves at the end of it. It had broadened into a bare, dusty chamber and the ceiling rose at least twenty feet above them with the walls no more than fifteen feet apart. Compared to what they had been traveling through, it felt rather large. A red, stone wall, barren of any gate they had hoped to find, stood in front of them. Kaden swore loudly.
“Where is it?” Silas whispered.
Silas looked behind him, shaking at the thought of the approaching army, hoping they hadn’t tracked their location into the cave.
Kaden searched up and down the wall looking for a hole or a notch to place the medallion as a key. Nothing.
Then there was the sound. A faint yet clear screech came from the distance echoing off of the cave walls, finally reaching the room.
“They’re in the cave,” Silas said, his eyes wide with fear.
“There isn’t much time.”
“Where’s the gate?”
“I don’t know!” Kaden nearly shouted. “I can’t find where I’m supposed to place the medallion!”
Silas's palms were getting sweaty. The cave was cold, but he didn't feel it. His heart pumped blood through his body at a rapid pace, slowly warming his skin from underneath. His body was tired, but he stood rigid with the shotgun resting in his hands ready to blow the head off the first Stühoc Leaper to expose its foul snout. His mind, however, was wide-awake, still plagued with unanswered questions, but thinking about them was pointless. They were facing death. There was no doubt in his mind that this was real. Silas had never been a person that had to pinch himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming. Dreams may be this chilling, but they never hurt this badly. They never left him as exhausted and beaten as he