The Dragon's Descent (5 page)

Vero hadn't realized how claustrophobic he had been in the smaller corridors of the maze until he stepped into this new, bigger space. To accommodate the added width, the gargoyles had also gotten bigger, maintaining a canopy
top that prevented any escape by flight. There was flowing water here, though the trickle of the stream that cut right across the path in front of him could not be the source of the sound he had been following. As he stepped over it and walked ahead, the noise of rapidly flowing water became almost deafening. Vero's head whipped around. A feeling of dread came over him. The tiny stream had somehow magically swelled into a raging river.

“Weird,” Vero said aloud. “Guess I won't be going back that way.”

Ahead on the wall to his left, Vero saw a large cave-like entrance, illuminated by flickering torches. Vero rested against the stone wall for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. Moments later, he walked into the cave. The deeper he went into the cave, the fainter the sound of the river became. He started to hear a new sound. “Is that the clucking of chickens?” Vero wondered. This maze was so weird.

Confused, Vero wearily approached the source of the sound. Before him, the cave seemed to open into a much larger chamber. He distinctly heard a great multitude of chickens, echoing against every crevice of the cave. Scattered around the chamber were what appeared to be life-size statues of angels, made of some sort of whitish plaster. Some had their wings fully open, while others did not. Vero noticed looks of either shock or terror on every face. He was reminded of Medusa's garden from the mythology stories his dad had read to him as a little kid. One glance at Medusa's hideous face instantly turned the viewer to stone trophies she kept in her garden. Mindful of this, Vero decided to keep his eyes on the floor, as a precaution.

He darted through a multitude of statues, making sure to stick to the wall of the ever-expanding chamber.
Wondering what could have transformed these angels, he bumped into a statue of a young girl of about nine or ten, who had her mouth open in terror, her head turned away from the wall. She was holding on to a pencil, which was still touching the wall, as if she had been trying to write something. Vero saw faint letters, faded with time. All he was able to read on the wall was “c katr ce.”

Pondering what letters were missing, Vero pushed on. On the other side of the large chamber, a smaller passageway led into a smaller chamber. He continued into the inner cave. Suddenly, a rush of feathers hit his face. He coughed as he spit a plume out of his mouth. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve, still careful to keep his eyes down. On the ground, surrounding him, were hundreds of drab-colored hens pecking the dusty floor of the cave. Peeking through his half-closed eyes, Vero saw that these hens were maybe two or three times the size of the ones on earth, standing well above his knee height. Vero wondered what this place was. What had the terrified statue girl been trying to write? Was it a warning? He recalled the letters, “c katr ce.”

“Who are you, and why have you come to my den?” a smooth, deep voice called out to him, startling Vero, who opened his eyes wide and took in his environment. He saw a cave about the length of a basketball court, full of hens and statues, before quickly returning his glance to the floor.

“Who are you?” Vero shouted.

“I am called the cockatrice,” the voice replied, sounding only a few feet away.

Cockatrice! That's what the girl had written. Vero now knew exactly what the creature was. The books of Isaiah and Jeremiah had both mentioned the cockatrice—the half rooster, half serpent creature that, like Medusa, possessed
a gaze that turned living things to stone. If Vero looked it in the eyes, he'd be added to the cockatrice's collection of statues. Vero tightly shut his eyes.

“I'm not here to harm you,” Vero shouted over the clucking hens. “Just passing through. I need to make my way through the maze. Any chance you could tell me the way out?”

“Forget the maze! You should be asking how to leave my den,” the cockatrice said.

“Great! Tell me which way, and I'm gone,” Vero said.

“To leave here, there is but one way. You must outwit me . . . or remain my ‘guest' forever.”

Vero gulped.

“It's not so bad. I've never heard even a single complaint from anyone here.” The cockatrice smirked.

“On second thought, never mind. I'll just go back the way I came.”

“No, fledgling. You must succeed where all the others have failed. You must outwit me. How hard could that be? After all, I'm nothing but an overgrown rooster.” The cockatrice laughed nastily.

“You're also half serpent, with a killer gaze,” Vero added.

“Ah, but I am so beautiful to behold, one look at me is worth ten thousand deaths.”

“I don't think so. I already got a peek at some of your hens,” Vero said. “And they didn't exactly do it for me.”

“They are not as beautiful as I am. I am one of a kind,” the cockatrice said in a soothing voice. “Open your eyes and stare at me. I'm right in front of you.”

Vero instinctively stepped back. His sword sprung forth from his hand, and he held it out defensively.

“There's no need for violence,” the cockatrice scolded.

“If I slay every chicken in here, eventually I'll get to you,” Vero said as he swung his sword, keeping his head down.

“You'd senselessly slaughter all these innocents?” the cockatrice sneered. “That would be a huge sin, angel.”

“As opposed to using those innocents to hide behind?”

The cockatrice snickered. “I'm no angel.”

Vero knew it was true. But he had learned his lesson from the shadows—he would show no fear. Fear gave his opponent an instant advantage. How was he going to outwit the cockatrice . . . especially since he couldn't even look at it? And if he could—did he look like all the other birds?
Except,
Vero thought,
he has a serpent's tail, and the others would not.

“Look at me,” the cockatrice said in a soothing voice. “You can't keep your eyes closed forever.”

Vero closed his eyes even tighter.

“Eventually curiosity will get the better of you. It always does,” the cockatrice chuckled.

Vero was working on a plan. If he could keep the cockatrice talking, he might be able to zero in on it.

“Don't you have better things to do than prey upon fledgling angels?” Vero asked.

“Not anymore. There was a time long ago, when I preyed upon humans.”

“I doubt that,” Vero said as he stepped forward, following the voice.

“I once dwelt in the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah,” the cockatrice boasted. “I was there when the angels destroyed the cities.”

Vero inched a few feet to his right, toward the voice.

“I overheard the angels tell Lot to flee before fire rained down from heaven onto the cities, and I followed them out.”

Vero knew the story of the two cities. They were so corrupt that God destroyed them, sparing only Lot and his family.

“The angel warned them not to look back at the burning cities, but Lot's wife couldn't help herself.”

“It was you? You were there when she turned around, turning her to a pillar of salt!” Vero said.

“Yes. I was there. But I had no idea she was going to turn around, so I can't really take the credit for that one. After the destruction, those two angels put a sack over me and brought me here, where you, too, will become a pillar of salt.”

Vero wielded his sword. The immediate group of birds around him flew a few feet away, avoiding the blade.

“Missed,” the cockatrice teased.

Vero noted that its voice seemed to come from behind him.

“Open your eyes, and let's get this over with,” the cockatrice sneered.

Vero thought for a moment. It would be near impossible to slay the creature without being able to see it. How would he do it? The demigod Perseus used his shield as a mirror to see Medusa. He'd been able to approach her by watching her reflection. If only he had a mirror. But he did—his sword! Vero raised his sword to eye level. He looked into the blade, hoping to catch an image of the cockatrice. But he only saw the reflected faces of the hens.

“Nice try,” the cockatrice smugly said. “But aren't you familiar with the cockatrice? Everyone knows I'm far too beautiful to have a reflection.”

Vero sighed.
How am I going to get out of this?

But then Vero again remembered the cockatrice's tail. His tracks would be the only ones with a serpent's tail mark between the feet. He lowered his head and slightly cracked open his eyes, keeping them intent on the ground so the cockatrice could not see that they were slightly ajar. Vero saw the tracks of giant rooster feet on the sandy floor every which way he turned. Which ones belonged to the cockatrice?

“Come on, angel. Just take a little peek at me . . .” the cockatrice enticed.

The low, velvety voice was hypnotic, tormenting Vero. He tried to ignore it while he continued to search the ground.

“I am more beautiful than the most glorious sunset, more stunning than the vibrant wild poppies swaying in the wind . . .” Its voice was soothing, tempting.

Vero saw an imprint in the dirt between two footprints. It was a solid line that seemed to follow between the tracks. If he followed it, the trail would lead him to the creature. With his eyes glued to the ground right in front of his feet, Vero stepped forward, following the tail's path along the ground.

“Come closer,” Vero called to the cockatrice. “When I do look, I don't want to miss out on any of your beauty.”

The cockatrice did not answer. Vero saw that the trail he followed took an abrupt circular turn. He looked between his legs and saw what appeared to be a large lizard's tail in the dirt right behind him. Vero could feel breath on his neck as the cockatrice hissed an unearthly sound, now trying to both scare and surprise Vero into looking at him. But
Vero did not turn to face the beast. With his eyes tightly shut, Vero swung around in one fluid motion and sliced the head off the cockatrice! He opened his eyes slowly and watched as the body ran around headless, wings flapping. He had to admit, the cockatrice was stunningly beautiful. Its body was covered in royal blue feathers with red, yellow, and green feathers peppered in.

The cockatrice's head lay face down in the dirt, away from Vero. He was afraid to approach it, recalling that Medusa's head could still turn people to stone even after it had been severed from her body. Vero then heard what sounded like falling rocks. He looked back to the larger chamber, where the once-angel pillars of salt had stood. They were all crumbling as they came back to life. Vero walked over to the girl writing on the wall, and the flock of hens followed. The girl's rock eyes began to crack, and soon Vero could see her sparkling blue-green eyes peering out at him. The rest of her body cracked, and chunks of salt fell to the ground. A young fledgling stood before Vero. She nodded gratefully to Vero.

“Thank you,” she said before vanishing into thin air.

The rest of the pillars also crumbled, freeing the remaining angels and fledglings. Some smiled to Vero while others nodded before they all disappeared from sight. Vero walked straight ahead, out of the empty cave and back into the maze, happy to have outwitted the cockatrice.

4

DRY BONES

V
ero rounded the corner and picked up his pace. His right hand was over his heart as he waited and listened for his Vox Dei to guide him. He felt as if he was going in the right direction, though he couldn't be completely sure. But one thing he was sure of was that he was lonely. He missed the other fledglings. He wished Greer were here to hurl some kind of insult at him. He chuckled just imagining the expression on Ada's face had she seen the headless cockatrice running around. Yet his thoughts always came back to Kane. Vero was increasingly worried about him. When they had last parted ways, Kane had been in a bad place due to the Angel Trials, where the fledglings had competed against angels from other spheres. Kane felt the trials had been unfair to him—that he should have won—and when he didn't get the recognition, he had become bitter and angry. The hardest moment had been when Vero sent a fort-i-fire Kane's way to help him restore hope, but
Kane had blocked it in anger and despair. Vero hoped that over the past few months, his friend had made peace with the outcome of the Trials and was back to his old self.

The outcome of the Angel Trials didn't really change too much, anyway. Though Vero himself had been a winner, here he was, alone in this maze, trying to prove himself yet again. The Archangel Michael had promised Vero that he'd never be alone, yet here he was—all by himself. In fact, he had always felt alone. On earth, Vero never really felt he fit in with the other kids, except maybe Tack. It wasn't until he'd discovered he was a guardian angel that he realized how correct he'd been in thinking so. And even among his fellow guardian angels, Vero was different: somewhat isolated. There were constant whispers behind his back of rumors that he wasn't like the others, that he was special. But Pax was more gifted at reading minds than he was. Ada knew much more about religious scriptures, folklore, and traditions than he did. X was physically stronger than all of them. Greer was so tough and fearless, and Kane . . . he'd shown Vero up on several occasions, and even earned the unicorn's blessing during the trials. Truth was, at the time, it hurt Vero that he wasn't selected to receive the special blessing from God. He had felt that he had needed it more than Kane. However, Michael had told Vero that because he was given much, more was expected of him. But that didn't make it any easier to be alone now.
Please don't let me be alone . . .
Vero prayed.