Rhun recovered only one weapon.
He took his silver pectoral cross from the pile and hung it back around his neck. It burned hot against his bare skin. Elizabeth stared at him. He felt suddenly self-conscious with his bandaged stump exposed. But she looked at the cross, instead, then went and recovered her own, donning it as he had done. The silver left a pink line against the pearly whiteness between her breasts. It burned her skin as much as it did his, but she did not remove it.
“Let’s go,” Jordan said and plunged straight in, coming up like an otter.
“Wait,” Erin said and grabbed her backpack from their discarded clothes. She turned to Rhun. “Can you take this? I don’t want to leave it abandoned here, but I’m not really a strong enough swimmer to take it myself.”
Rhun knew her bag held the Blood Gospel, sealed in an airtight and waterproof case. She was right not to leave it unattended, especially here. He pulled the pack over his good shoulder. “I’ll keep it safe.”
“Thank you.”
Erin swallowed, faced the pool, then waded in, gasping at the cold.
Rhun and his fellow Sanguinists joined her. The water was snowmelt, barely above freezing — but at least the icy chill numbed the ache from his stump.
The party set off across the pool toward the thunder of the falls. Even the lion cub jumped in and swam steadily beside him. Its giant feet pushed through the water like paddles. Its heartbeat was quick and steady. The animal showed no fear of the water.
Erin, on the other hand, fought to keep up, splashing more than moving, her heart racing. Rhun dropped back next to her, as did Sophia.
“I didn’t learn to swim until I was one hundred and five!” Sophia shouted to Erin. “So I’m still not very good at it myself.”
Erin gave the nun a quick smile and kept swimming.
Rhun appreciated the gesture, but unlike Erin, Sophia did not need to breathe. Whereas Rhun had seen Erin nearly drown once before. He knew she would not stop going, even past the point of no return.
Ahead, Jordan and Elizabeth had reached the falls. Elizabeth glanced up at the cascade, as if taking her bearings, then dove. Jordan followed immediately.
Rhun did a one-armed sidestroke next to Erin until they reached the falls, too. He treaded water with Sophia to let Erin catch her breath. Her lips were set in a hard line, going blue from the cold.
Rhun glanced to Sophia. The thunder of the cascade made talk impossible, but he got a small nod back from the woman, acknowledging his request.
Keep Erin safe.
Erin gave them a weak smile of bravado and upended herself, her pale feet shining in the sun for a moment before she vanished underwater.
Rhun and Sophia followed her down, lashed by the turbulent water.
Rhun quickly found it vexing to swim with only one arm, eventually settling for only kicking his legs. Still, he easily kept up with Erin.
He felt something bump his leg, felt a snag of claws in his pants. A glance revealed the cub digging down after them. It seemed the cat was not going to let them go alone.
They reached the mouth of the tunnel that Elizabeth had spotted. He saw no sign of the other two. Erin hesitated, but the cub shot past her and entered first, his paws snagging the rocky walls and propelling him deeper.
Perhaps taking courage from the cub, Erin followed.
But how much farther could she truly go?
Erin’s lungs burned as she swam after the cat.
Though, in truth, it felt more like crawling, as her hands clawed the walls and her toes pushed off along the bottom of the tunnel.
How far did this passage run?
It was a question that terrified her.
Her chest already ached for breath. She doubted she had enough air left to return to the pool, to sunshine and fresh breezes. It left her with only one way to go from here.
Forward.
She kicked, following the paddling rear end of the cub. The filtering sunlight behind her quickly faded to a gloomy murk, but the cat’s snowy fur glowed ahead of her, like a will-o’-the-wisp in the dark. She placed all her trust in the cub. It needed to breathe, like she did. If it turned around, she would, too.
So she continued, commanding her cold arms to pull and her numb legs to kick.
Then suddenly the lion’s hind legs disappeared upward into darkness.
She felt the tunnel dissolve around her into a larger space, as dark as pitch.
Blindly, she headed up.
Seconds later, her head broke the surface. She gasped in a new breath, then another, taking in the small cavern around her, illuminated by slivers of daylight seeping through cracks in the roof.
Jordan and Elizabeth climbed out on a ledge on the far side, next to a plain wooden door set into the granite wall. The cub paddled over and scrabbled at the edge, until Jordan helped pull his sodden form out of the water.
Jordan spotted Erin and waved one arm, while holding out the other. “I got you.”
Yeah, well, you could’ve got me sooner… or at least, hung around.
Like some others.
Rhun and Sophia surfaced behind her.
Still, as much as it stung that he had abandoned her, she knew it wasn’t his fault. Whatever was happening would eventually pass, and he would be his old self again.
Now if only I could truly believe that.
She hurried to the ledge, and Jordan pulled her up as if she weighed nothing. He quickly hugged her, the feverish heat of him welcome for the first time. She shivered and shook in his embrace, remaining there until the cold tremors in her limbs warmed away.
To the side, Sophia helped Rhun onto the ledge, compromised as he was with only one arm.
“We must find a way to open this door,” Elizabeth said, running her palms over it.
With her teeth still chattering, Erin moved over. If there were warm towels and a roaring fire behind it, she would kick it down herself.
She examined the door alongside Elizabeth. It was made of a single thick wooden plank, sanded smooth as glass, with no visible hinges or lock on this side.
“Looks like it can only be opened from the other side,” Erin said.
“Or we batter it down from this side,” Jordan offered.
She suspected such an action would win no favors from the owner, Hugh de Payens. “I think we must wait,” she said. “Show patience.”
“So then we wait,” Rhun said. He dropped to a knee to fondle the cub’s ear, who looked none too happy with his wet status.
Jordan stepped to the door. “Or we do this.”
He raised his fist and knocked on the thick plank, then stepped back, cupping his lips. “Hello!” he hollered, his voice booming in the small cavern.
Erin held her breath, but after there was no response, she let it sigh out.
“Maybe no one’s home,” Jordan said with a shrug.
Another member of their party tried.
The cub leaned back his head and let out a massive roar.
Erin jumped slightly, wincing at the noise, shocked that such a huge outburst came from such a small creature.
It sounded like a challenge.
When the echoes died away, a deep voice intoned, seeming to rise from everywhere. It made Erin’s skin crawl.
“Only the lion may enter.”
A scraping sound came from beyond the thick plank, as if a bar had been drawn back. The door swung slowly inward.
Erin tried to see past the threshold, but it was too shadowy, the space lit by flickering torchlight.
Still on one knee beside his cub, Rhun pointed to the door. “You can do it.”
The lion rose timidly, then turned and gently gripped Rhun’s wrist with his teeth. The cub tugged Rhun toward the open door.