Father Desmond Porter's Arc

Chapter 2 of 7

Desmond hit the mouth of the hidden cavern at a run. The wind had cut the opening smooth over years, layered sandstone stacked like plates around a dark hollow. He ducked inside and pressed his back to the wall. His breath came ragged. The violet shard in his coat knocked against his ribs. He listened. Boots on rock. Not his. Three sets, maybe four, coming down the slope he had just climbed. He pushed deeper. The passage narrowed and split. He took the tighter fork, the one a grown man had to turn sideways for, and slid through with the wool of his coat scraping stone. Behind him a Vael scout barked something short and clicked. Others answered. Desmond climbed a shelf of loose rock, kicked a stone free behind him to muddy the sound, and dropped into a lower chamber. A shaft of light fell through a crack overhead. He saw a scout pass through that light for one breath, purple plates, curled antenna, the small panel on its belt humming loud enough to hear. He held still until the shape moved on. Then he crawled. He crossed a bed of broken shale on his palms and knees, cut his hand, kept moving. He jumped a black split in the floor without looking down. He hit the far side hard and rolled and came up running. The passage bent twice more and spat him into a wider gallery he did not know. He pressed into a crevice behind a fallen slab and made himself small. The Vael voices moved past his hiding place, close enough that he could count them by sound. Four. They spread out. One clicked twice and the others answered from further off. The humming faded down a side tunnel. Desmond stayed in the crack until his legs shook. When he crawled out, the cavern was quiet. He had not been caught. He also did not know where he was. The passage he had come through forked behind him in ways he could not remember. He had lost the scouts, and he had lost the route to the meeting place where the girl would come looking for him. He wiped blood from his palm onto his coat and started walking, slow now, listening for the hum of a belt panel in the dark.