The PriZin of Zin (17 page)
Authors: Loretta Sinclair
sta·lac·tite
[st
uh
-lak-tahyt, stal-
uh
k-tahyt]
noun
a deposit, usually of
calcium
carbonate, shaped like an icicle, hanging from the roof of a cave.
“All hands on deck!” The call jolted Ian from a deep slumber. “Death looms ahead!” Wide awake, senses reeling, he struggled to gain control of his whirling emotions.
The ship’s crew flew into action around him. Pirates bolted for the hatch leading to the deck, leaving Ian to follow behind. Desperate to keep up, yet still unable to comprehend what was going on, he followed the others, trying his best just to keep up. To Ian, it seemed as if he was the only one moving in slow motion.
“Drop the sails! Raise the boom! Head for cover, man, whilst there’s still life on this here ship!”
The pirates swirled around him like a hurricane. Ian, nearly frozen in place, was unable to think. Slow to process, and even slower to move, he tried to help, but to no avail. It wasn’t until he felt strong arms on his shoulders that he was snapped out of his daze.
“Up the mast, yung’un. To the nest, yonder.” Ruben’s arms guided him to the main mast. “I’s rit behind ye.”
The first few rungs of the mast-ladder came awkward and slow. Ian felt sluggish and bogged down. He looked around to see a thick, bluish-gray fog creeping in around them, quickly sealing the ship in its wake. He felt a foreboding sense of doom come over him.
“Git!” Ruben’s order barked from below. “Git, a’fore we’s all died!”
Ian managed somehow to snap out of his funk and kick himself into high gear. With Ruben on his tail, they took the rungs two at a time and scaled the mast in a matter of minutes. Both pirates entered the crow’s nest within seconds of one another.
“What is it?”
“Death.” Ruben spun around the small enclosure, straining to look into the dense cover. “Best watch fer ‘em.”
“Who is them?”
“Evil.”
“But I don’t—“
“Shhhhh! They be listenin’. Careful what they’s hears.”
Ian opened his mouth to speak again, but a sharp glare from Ruben silenced him. A long slender finger pointed outward into the thick mist. With his arm outstretched, Ruben’s extended finger was barely visible in front of him.
Ian, vision strained out into the dense cover, took his place in the nest. He craned his neck every direction and tried to see, but he could not. The bluish-gray fog was thick, and it swirled around in a circle, disorienting all around them. There was an odd odor in the air, also. The stench was so thick, Ian felt as though he could grab it. Nauseated, he raised his hand to wipe away the sweat that had formed on his forehead and cheeks. His hand came away with a slimy grey mucous.
“Death,” Ruben whispered. A finger came up to his lips in a hushing motion. “If’n they gits one, they be’s happy and will leave. Watch fer ‘em.”
The Wayfarer zig-zagged back and forth between the scattered rocks. ‘Rocks’ didn’t do these formations justice. They were more like tiny mountains sticking up through the ocean, each one an island by itself. The formations were impressive. Each one had a coloring unique to itself. Some had jagged cliff formations, and others were as smooth as glass. Many on the outer edges of the grouping had both stalactites and stalagmites growing from them. As they passed within inches, Ian and Ruben both reached out to touch the overhanging rocks, marveling at the maneuverability of both the ship and its captain. They got close enough on several occasions for Ian to reach out and touch the higher mineral formations, all covered with the same grey mucous material that hung so thick in the air. Each scaly stone piece showed layers of calcification, yet felt slick and smooth in his hand. Ian wondered at the science of it all. What caused these sharp formations to grow, and why here? They were not on every rock, just some.
Why
?
The ship lurched violently to one side.
“Git the blades!” he heard screamed from below. “Chop us loose! Quick! A’fore ‘tis too late!”
Ian looked down toward the deck, but could see nothing.
“What is it?” There was an urgency in his question.
“Ye should not speak, lad. They mights—“
The first strike came from nowhere. All Ian saw were the clenching jaws and razor-sharp teeth.
“Duck!” Ruben hit the floor, yanking Ian’s head down with him. They huddled below the rim of the basket, shielding themselves from attack.
“Wha—?” Ian didn’t finish the word before his question was answered. A skeleton of a giant shark circled the crow’s nest, swimming in thin air. It cut through the thick, gray, hanging mucous like a hot knife through butter. Gray sunken eyes rolled around the boney sockets looking for their prey. Razor-sharp teeth, dripping deathly slime, and snout flaring as the creature tried to sniff out fresh prey. Ian shrunk back further into the elevated basket.
Death
.
“Git us free a’fore we goes under!”
Chopping and hacking sounds, mingled with screams, billowed upwards. Ian crawled in a circle flat against the floor of the nest to the opening. Looking down, he saw thick seaweed vines slinking up the mast and the sails toward them. Moving at an incredible pace, Ian reared back to keep from being snatched by one, only to have his head butted by a skeletal tail above. A flash of anger tore through him. Ian bolted up and let out a scream at the creature that had just slapped him. The hunting remains turned in the fog and sped back toward the mast.
“No!” Ruben reached out to grab Ian. He was a split-second too late. The slimy goo on his skin made Ian impossible to hold onto. The creature, jaws open wide in a deathly smile, slammed into the main mast, hurtling Ian from the basket. With several skeletons free-falling behind him, Ian splashed down into the churning hot waters below, leaving Ruben and the rest of the crew chopping away at the mutant, spreading, seaweed.
Ian hit the water in full stride. Arms overhand and legs kicking, Ian made way toward the nearest shelter. He heard the splashes behind him, but never slowed down. Reaching the first formation of huge stalagmites, he flipped his body over them and onto the higher ground behind them. In the relative safety of a small cave, Ian let his guard down. He stood to face the intruders head-on. Seeing them through the dense fog, they circled inches away from him.
“Yeah! That’s right! You can’t get me, you slimy blood-suckers. You and whose army?” He was pacing. Back and forth across the rocky ridge, Ian barely noticed when the island began to move. “Come on! I’m right here, you cowards! Come on over here and get me, why don’t ya?” He had to grab one of the rocks for balance. Ian looked down to see the platform under his feet shift away from the rocks in front of him. Losing his balance, Ian toppled backward and fell face up. It was then that he noticed the ridge of stalactites that so closely matched the stalagmites below. They almost looked like—
teeth
.
He tried to squirm away, but it was too late. The rows slammed together in an ear-shattering jolt.
Ian hurtled down a long, slender waterfall, and splashed down into a warm, churning pool —
Again.
swal·low
[swol-oh]
verb (used with object)
to take into the stomach by drawing through the throat and esophagus with a voluntary muscular action, as food, drink, or other substances; to accept without question or suspicion.
“AHHHH!!!!!!”
Ian fought against the swirling tide trapped inside the creature. He struggled also to keep down his rising tide of his emotions. Anger reared up inside of him once again at the situation he found himself in.
“No!” Ian kicked out, his foot, landing against something hard. The beast recoiled, sending Ian hurtling across the pitch dark space, slamming into something equally hard on the other side. Dazed, he tried to feel his way around in the darkness.
There seemed to be rows of hard structures, with softer, pliable areas in between. Ian felt his way past several of the boney hard pieces, but once again found himself thrown back across the cavernous insides when he touched a tender spot. Every inch covered with the thick mucus ooze that had been suspended in the fog, Ian found it hard to breathe or move. Each step he took felt like he was walking in gelatin. He fought to stay standing.
Maybe I can climb up the throat.
Ian felt around until his hands were reaching more upwards than sideways.
This must be it.
He stretched his hand up as high as he could, grabbing on to a soft fleshy mound protruding from the rest of the tissue. He lifted his foot to take a step and pulled with all his might, hoisting his weight upwards.
A growl began to rumble deep in the flesh that was in Ian’s grasp. Around him, tissue reverberated as the low rumble turned into a hideous scream. It swallowed hard, pulsing all of the muscles in its throat, throwing Ian backwards into the pool of mucous and water. Slamming down hard into the fluid, Ian fought to swim for the surface and a breath of stale, belched air. A split-second before he surfaced, flames shot from deep within the belly of the creature. They flew like a flamethrower straight over the top of the mucus pool Ian was submerged in, and up the throat of the beast. Lasting only a few seconds, the flames blew out quickly and the thick pool settled. Ian burst upward gasping for air.
He sat stunned for a moment, then lashed out, kicking and screaming.
“Let me out!” Ian tried to run, but slipped over and over again back into the slimy pool. “Ahhhh!” He tried to wipe the mucous away from his eyes, but it was so thick, the grayish matter just slid down from the top of his head again.
“Who are you?
Taking several steps across the warm pond, Ian slowly made his way across the cavern to the hard, ribbed structure on the other side. “What are you!”
With each step, he shouted.
“Let me out!”
Ian realized that the harder he fought, the harder his fight was. The snot just slowed him down more. He tried taming his actions, but not his tongue.
“Come on, you coward! You wanna fight me? Go ahead! Take your best shot!”
Stepping gently, he continued through the middle of the pool.
“I ain’t afraid of you, whatever you are.”
He wiped his eyes free of the slime again.
“Come on. Show yourself. Lousy, stinking, coward.”
Ian reached the side of the thing, and stepped up on the edge, out of the slime.
“I’m ready for you. Whenever you want a piece of this, just show yourself! That is, if you ain’t scared! Stupid slime ball.”
Ian sat down.
There was silence. The creature seemed to have settled back down.
“And turn on some lights, would ya!”
Silence.
Ian’s frustration began to surface. He felt on the verge of tears but fought them back. He could not let this thing win, no matter what it was.
“Please,” he half whispered. “Just so I can see.”
The rumbling growl started again from deep in the belly. Ian dove for the safety of the obnoxious liquid, no matter what it was. Just as the growl became a scream, the flames shot forth once again, illuminating everything from the bowels to the nostrils of this thing.
It’s a dragon.
Ian surfaced and sat stunned in the warmth.
I’ve been swallowed by a fire-breathing dragon.
There was an eerie glow in the cavern when the flames had receded. Ian looked up to see the hard boney structures that he’d felt were the ends of its ribs. Each of those ends was now on fire, glowing like a row of candles lighting the rest of the dungeonous cavern. The side opposite him had another row, lit in the same fashion.
Rib cage. A cage, and I am locked in the middle.
“Let me out!” he screamed again. The rib cage shifted slightly but, when Ian calmed down, it calmed down, too.
Ian slid down on his butt. He could no longer hold back. Here, locked up in this new prison, he let his tears have their way.
Ian woke up some time later, exhausted and in pain. His head ached. His ribs hurt. His hands were sore. His pants torn and his knees skinned. There was no sense of time. No way to tell if minutes, hours, or days had passed. It was all just time.
He looked around. Still in the belly of the beast, he was still covered in gray ooze. And he was still unable to get out. The only bright thing that he saw was the rib candles still burning, giving him some measure of light to see by. He tried to sit up, but when the waves of pain hit, he gave up and slumped back down.
Ian conceded defeat. He wasn’t just trying to stand, but trying to care. He’d finally gotten himself into a mess he couldn’t get out of. His anger got the best of him, once again. Ian was a goner, and he knew it. It was just a matter of time. He settled in for the long haul.
Swishing the ooze with his feet, he marveled at the pattern the slime made. Not exactly a wave, but more of a highly-exaggerated ripple. Ian watched, mesmerized by the pattern the junk was making, and the light reflecting off each circle. He wiggled his foot again.
And again.
The ripples began to form a pattern of circles, one inside the other. Each circle seemed to be rotating the opposite direction. The smaller circles in the middle protruded up higher than the larger circles on the outside. It was beginning to take shape, almost like a half-submerged ball. Still the candles flickered and glowed, casting an eerie aura.
Ian scooted back. It was growing. Circles spinning faster and faster, the giant orb now took on an unearthly glow from within. It lifted itself from the surface of the pool and hovered in the center of the cage, spinning and casting a bluish-red glow against all near it.
“What on earth?” Ian muttered.
“I am not from this earth,” the thing answered.
“Who, who, wha—, wha—, what are you?”
“I am your messenger.”
Ian swallowed hard. “What’s your name?”
“Messenger. I am also your counselor.”
“What message do you have?”
“What is your question?” the spinning orb asked.
“Why am I in here?”
“You are here because you cannot control your anger.”
“I can so,” Ian spat out.
The orb laughed.
“Okay, maybe I get mad sometimes.”
“And where has that anger gotten you?”
Ian waved his arms. “In here.”
“Precisely.”
“Where am I?”
“This creature is called Angor Motivus.”
“What is it?”
“It is a reflection of what burns inside of you.”
“How can I be inside of myself?” He sat up straight.
“You alone are what holds you back.”
Ian scratched his slimy head. “Can I get out?”
“That depends on you.”
“What do I have to do?”
“Remember…”
The orb began to spin faster. From its bluish-red glow, it turned crystal clear and smooth as glass. Inside the glass, Ian could see clear images. Like a crystal ball, Ian saw himself, Hunter, Aeryn, and Mr. Welch all hunting the morning of the earthquake.
“Hey, look! That’s me!”
“Yes,” the orb said, “you and your friends.”
The picture grew cloudy, and a new picture appeared. Ian was on the pirate ship taking the oath.
The bonds of your brothers run as deep as the ocean;
Their bond for me is the same;
We tie our souls to one another, and to this ship;
We swear our oath to the Captain, save none;
We live together;
We fights for our own;
We die as one for our brothers and Captain;
Wayfaring souls are we;
No friend left behind;
No one dies alone;
Be us together, or be us apart;
No one can tear us from our brother’s heart.
Wayfaring souls are we.
“Your new friends,” the orb said. “You swore an oath to them but, as you swore it, you had already broken it.”
“What are you talking about? I didn’t break any oath.”
“Remember.”
The ball clouded again, and a picture of Morgan appeared, on the beach. Right behind him the serpent rose and snatched him from the shore.
“I didn’t have anything to do with that. He ate that apple on his own. I didn’t - - “
No friend left behind;
No one dies alone;
The orb shifted again. Clouds cleared and he saw Hunter in the forest. Behind him was a large brown creature.
“Hunter! Look behind you!” he screamed.
“Hunter cannot hear you now. You have left him behind.”
“I didn’t leave him. He - - We all - - -” he broke off. “It’s kinda hard to explain.”
The bonds of your brothers run as deep as the ocean;
Their bond for me is the same;
The cloud in the orb cleared again and Ian saw Aeryn, huddled in a tree. She looked scared. Black streaks screaming and diving toward her while she hung on. Terror showed clear as day in her eyes.
“Aeryn, hang on! Don’t let go!”
No one can tear us from our brother’s heart.
The orb clouded again, and the blue-red glow returned.
“You have left your friends behind. They need you and you chose not to go to them. You have broken the oath.”
“But it’s not my fault.”
“Fault does not matter. They need you. You must go.”
“How?” Ian’s frustration began to rise again. “How am I supposed to get out of here?”
“You have the power within you. Just make the right choices. Do not let anger rule.”
“You’re not making any sense.”
“Have you so quickly forgotten?”
The orb flashed again. The surface settled, the cloud disappeared, and there stood Alastair, the leprechaun.
Seek the truth which will light your path.
Evil must always give way to the truth.
Wash away all that holds ye back.
Ye can only lead him back home.
He alone must choose.