Page 101 of Paladin's Faith

“The town’s supposed to be right over there.”

“Good for it. That wagon hit every single rock on the road and while I may have the stamina of a twenty-year-old, my bladder is significantly older.”

“There’s a very large rock over there,” said Wren, pointing.

“So there is. Won’t be a moment.”

Shane sighed and set out alongside him. Davith slid a wary glance at the paladin. “Do you need the rock too, or are you worried I’ll try to escape?”

“Both things can be true.”

“Fair enough.”

They were halfway back from the rock when Davith stepped into a hole, let out a squawk, and fell forward.

“Davith!” Shane grabbed for him, alarmed. He’d seen men break legs after stepping in concealed gopher holes, and while he had no particular fondness for the man, that wasn’t something he’d wish on anyone. Also, Shane would probably have to carry him.

“Gah! Ah!” Davith levered himself upright. “Shit!”

“Is it broken?”

“No, it’s stuck—Ahhhh!”

“You’re stuck?”

“Something just bit me!” Davith sounded more outraged than hurt.

“Bit you?” Shane glanced up and saw the distant figures of Marguerite and Wren hurrying toward them. “Here, let me look. Maybe you’re trapped under a root.”

“It is not a root, you armored jackass! I know the difference between a root and being bitten! Something is gnawing on my—gah! Ah! Get it off!”

Shane dropped to his knees, wondering what the hell could be biting from inside a narrow hole like that. A rabbit? A gopher? Saint’s teeth, let it not be a badger…

He shoved Davith’s cloak aside, looked down into the hole, stopped and stared.

It was not a badger. Actually, it wasn’t any animal that Shane recognized. He wasn’t even sure it was alive.

The hole was about twice the size of Davith’s calf. A line of irregular pointed rocks the size of Shane’s thumb ringed the top, set into slick brown earth. As Shane watched, the sides of the hole seemed to flex and it closed a little tighter, the rocks digging into Davith’s boot. Deep gouges were already forming in the leather. Davith yelped as it tightened.

“Is it some kind of trap?” he panted.

“It’s…uh…something.” Shane drew his sword, not quite sure what to do next. They certainly looked like teeth, but what was he going to do, stab the ground?

He prodded the inside of the hole with the broken blade. The rocks that formed the teeth scraped along the metal. They were definitely rocks, too. He could see a thin thread of quartz sparkling through one, and though they were all sharp, it was the jagged sharpness of broken stone.

For lack of anything better to do, Shane did indeed try stabbing the hole next to Davith’s boot. Clods of earth broke off and tumbled down into the dark. The stone teeth clenched again, tighter, and Davith’s yelp turned into a hoarse yell.

“What the hell?” said Wren, dropping to her knees in time to see the hole bite down.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Shane admitted.

“That is really not what I—gahh!—want to hear right now.”

“If it’s a trap, can you lever it open?” Marguerite asked.

Shane and Wren exchanged helpless looks. It was as good an idea as any. Shane pulled the heavy scabbard off his back. “This may hurt,” he warned.

“That’ll be a nice change from the general agon—AHHH!” Shane thrust the scabbard down, along the side of Davith’s leg. Stone teeth ground against it. He pushed against the scabbard, trying to pry the hole apart, wondering if that was as bizarre as it sounded inside his head.