21 Seagulls

by ANGELOS KYPRIANOS

  Upon hearing the plan, Dizan’s eyes bulged in horror. “I… I don’t…”

  “Have you forgotten what we’re doing here?” Basco said. “Or did you forget what the others are doing while we’re talking, eating, sleeping and bedding town girls like well-fed Seagulls?”

  Dizan answered nothing. He bowed his head, with a deep sorrow falling across his face like a shadow.

  Basco didn’t question his loyalty for a single moment. He took a few steps back to give him a little space.

  “Now?” Dizan asked, but his voice was dark and his face sullen.

  “Now,” confirmed Basco.

  The bard lowered on one knee and brought the lute in front of him with a heavy heart. He started stroking the strings. Soft notes spilled out, mixing with the island’s morning breeze. His voice spilled in the air, high, warm, and strong, like wrought metal that refused to bend. Dizan was indeed a gifted musician.

  People from the settlement started gathering on the edge of the distant cliff that overlooked the sea. Dizan’s magical voice drew them like fireflies to the light. They stood in a circle around him; others squatted on the ground, not used to such events during daylight.

  Patiently, Basco waited a few feet back. With his arms crossed, he inspected the area in front of him.

  It didn’t take long for them to appear.

  Slender, blue hands with membranes caught the edge of the cliff and pulled themselves up opposite Dizan. The creatures moved their membranes and gills at the sound of the music, and answering the call, they showed up, climbing the high cliff in front of them. Their eyes shimmered as they listened to the beautiful melody. Dizan kept his head bowed, refusing to look at them. Old Karil appeared next to Basco, a wolfish grin formed on his lips.

  “The kid is good, eh?” A nod from Basco was the only answer to his question.

  Basco took two steps forward. Over ten Aquats had formed a semicircle in front of Dizan, their backs to the cliff.

  Karil frowned. “Lord Basco, is there water nearby?” he asked, and Basco took a breath.

  “No, old man. It’s too far away.”

  Karil looked around. “I don’t see a fire anywhere.”

  “We don’t have a fire either,” Basco admitted.

  Karil looked around once more. The trees stirred by a soft breeze that cooled his face. “I daresay we have the wind then?”

  Basco nodded. “Yes, Karil. In a place as high and bare as this, we certainly have the wind, and plenty of it.”

  After those words, Basco raised his arms high and started talking to the wind. People started whispering, scared. Basco’s loose clothes billowed in the rising gusts. The Aquats started making nervous, strange noises. Dizan’s melody was still strong, his voice unwavering. The trees bent more; Basco lowered his arms in a certain direction and the trunks bent that way.

  A hat flew away from a young girl’s head and was lost beyond the cliff. The words grew stronger, along with the creatures’ noises; they hunched now, sensing the threat. They looked like dogs ready to attack. Basco’s voice rang as loud as Dizan’s now.

  The creatures made a move to attack. They ran forward, ignoring the musician and zeroing in on Basco, who did a circular motion with his arms as if he was stirring the wind.

  Stones started levitating around him; a straw roof was ripped away from a house and some people screamed. In the turmoil, a few creatures jumped into the air. Basco thrust his arms forward and screamed. Dizan stopped the music immediately and stared at the ground.

  The creatures’ bodies collided with an invisible force and were tossed backwards. The wind, as if obeying to a call of its name, threw the Aquats over the cliff, sending them back where they had so laboriously climbed from in order to listen to the music. The people screamed, terrified by this new horror. The bodies traveled like toys and were lost over the cliff.

  When the spell died down, Basco drew a deep, satisfied breath. Sweat dripped down his body, and the magic had exhausted him. Dizan had played his part in this mission, just as Basco had, and old Karil almost clapped his hands with joy.

  The musician didn’t share the sentiment, neither did he feel any satisfaction by this victory, despite knowing that they wouldn’t have been safe as long as the creatures were near. He did feel sadness though. Because he knew that, this time, there was no sea to welcome them in its arms – only sharp rocks.

  When they looked over the cliff, they saw their broken bodies painting the rocks with their blood. A whole group of them had just died in a horrible way, and the people would remember this forever.

  THE MONASTERY

  Almost a month after they first entered the jungle, the crew finally arrived at the mountains of Loriax. The thunderbolts were so close now, that the men despaired. They couldn’t even talk anymore. They communicated through gestures and signals and just a few words in between the thunderbolts. None of them had seen anything like this. Perhaps only Ginom, if his claims were true.

  The sky had permanently turned a deep purple color, and the crew walked on the steep, rocky paths on the sides of the mysterious crater on the center of the mountain. The eye of the Sentinel. Mascardi didn’t know what lay there, and he also didn’t want to risk finding out. His thoughts often raced back to the settlement. The journey had lasted longer than they’d anticipated, but there was no other choice. He only wished the return would be easier. They wasted many days on the rough paths, doing circles. Ginom was a good guide, but after all this time, even he couldn’t find the path that would lead them to their destination.

  Tonight, though, they were in high spirits. Ginom had found a path made by goats and he was convinced it would take them to the monastery. Everyone had believed him.

  Indeed, that night, through the continuous thunderbolts that hammered the mountains, the stone-built monastery appeared before them.

  “There!” Ginom exclaimed excited. Plants and branches had scratched his cheeks and arms. He smiled like a child when his words were confirmed. They all howled in joy for a moment, but Mascardi cut it short, reminding them of the importance of silence even in a place like this.

  “Let’s take a look,” he said and led the way.

  The old monastery was a stone ghost. Whatever life it’d once hosted, it’d disappeared by now. Its wide windows had fallen victim to the wind, that’d battered their wooden frames. Old stones had piled up, worn by the passage of time. The two-story building dominated a high hill, surrounded by trees.

  Mascardi paused outside the old oaken door. The thick wood’s color was pale, its paint faded, peeling off in places to reveal new coats inside. An old brass knob hung on it.

  “Odet, a torch,” the captain ordered, and the young man lit one and gave it to him. Mascardi sheathed the trident on his back, held the torch with his left hand, and with his right drew out his curved sword. He turned to Vario and urged him forward. It was his way of telling him it was time to earn his coin.

  The muscular man moved eagerly forward and grabbed the knob. He pushed with his body, and finally the door gave in to the pressure. The way it opened revealed it had stayed sealed for a long time, many years.

  The monastery smelled of old wood, humidity, and a hint of wine, as if a cellar was nearby. Creaks upset the quiet, and Mascardi rushed to light the way, scared, only to see rats skittering away in the shadows.

  They walked into the main hall. The torchlight created a halo around them and gradually revealed their surroundings, pushing back the dark veil that had taken roots in the old monastery.

  Mascardi walked parallel to the pale walls and started lighting up any torch he found wedged on them.

  One by one, the flames multiplied, and life returned to the room. Melted candles and old ceramic utensils made their appearance on long, wooden tables; each had a dozen chairs around it. Symbols were painted on the walls, spirals and similarly shaped runes. Mascardi wished old Karil or Basco were there with them; they possessed relevant knowledge.

  “Captain,” young Ar
uzo said softly while standing by a table. Mascardi went to him. “Is that blood?” he asked, showing a big old stain on the table.

  Mascardi shrugged. “It could be,” he said indifferently.

  Stone steps led to the upper floor, and another thick wooden door led to another room. Mascardi pushed it carefully and the door opened, squeaking.

  The mice retreated as if by unspoken agreement. There were hundreds of them, rushing towards the corners of the room that appeared before them. Old barrels, others open and some still shut, smelled of spices, mold, and humidity. The mice were having a feast on them.

  Mascardi froze. A skeleton lay in the middle of the old room. There wasn’t a trace of skin left on it, and even the bone over the nose and around the eyes had been eaten away.

  Odet did a gesture to ward off evil and murmured a prayer. Some of the others mimicked him.

  “So?” Mascardi said lightly. “What did you expect? Hugs?”

  Nobody said a word. Mascardi himself wasn’t as composed as he was trying to appear. He didn’t know what to expect, but this quiet made him nervous and his instincts kept gnawing at him.

  In this big room that looked like an old kitchen, there was an old wooden hatch. The crew gathered around it and Mascardi took a deep breath.

  “Let’s try upstairs first,” he said. “I’ll feel better knowing what lies above our heads.”

  The group left the room and went up the stone steps. The upper floor revealed a number of symmetrical bedrooms with straw mattresses and symbols everywhere. The thunderbolts’ light flashed through the windows and the torch wasn’t needed now, but Mascardi felt safer near the live flame.

  “Who lived here?” Ginom wondered as he stepped around like a panther, without relaxing at all.

  “Demons,” Baltan answered fearfully, and received a glare from the captain, who didn’t like intimidation. He felt the crew was a single organism and knew fear was a spark that could quickly catch and spread.

  “There’s nothing here,” Vario complained, breathing hard in the dark. Mascardi didn’t miss the frustration in his voice. Vario was in a hurry to find a treasure, since that was what he’d been promised.

  The captain added this new concern to his long list but answered nothing. There was no room for carelessness, not yet.

  “This place smells like death,” Baltan said again, and this time, transmitted his fear to the others.

  “Baltan!” Mascardi scolded him.

  “Forgive me, captain, but I feel it in my bones. There’s something here.”

  “There’s something here? Nothing’s here,” Vario mocked him, raising his voice.

  A fight started brewing. Fear and irritation and tiredness had taken a toll on them all, and that energy needed an outlet.

  “Time to see what’s downstairs,” Mascardi intervened, wanting to divert that energy to something more productive.

  When they stood over the hatch once more, the captain knew he would find answers behind this dark door. He didn’t feel excited anymore though, but afraid; a bad feeling had settled in his stomach.

  His expression changed and the crew saw compassion on his face. “Keep your eyes open down there, lads. Remember, earth is like the sea. Its worst secrets lay hidden in its lowest places.”

  He heard nothing from them in reply, not even their breathing. The men switched to smaller weapons, sensing they would probably find themselves in narrower spaces. They were many and they were afraid, and Mascardi realized they had a lot in common with the mice around them. When he looked at them a moment longer, he knew all of them were thinking the same thing.

  “The seagull eats the mouse,” he said smiling and touched the hatch’s handle. He nodded at Vario, and he slipped his hand through the other handle. Together, they groaned and pulled, and the hatch groaned in turn, but finally opened. Dust puffed up like a cloud and everyone coughed and waved it clumsily away.

  Below, more stone steps led into the belly of darkness. Cobwebs decorated the passage. Not even mice went near it; nothing lived down there, as if life itself wasn’t welcome. The little creatures didn’t even approach because they knew better. They knew Baltan was right. Down there, it smelled like death.

  ***

  Darkness suffocated the torchlight. When it spread like a cloak around them, Mascardi heard their teeth clenching. In a few motions, he relit the flame that’d been flickering, struggling to stay alive.

  “The air is thin,” he observed as he walked in this new, low-ceilinged space.

  His foot kicked something. Everybody stopped.

  “Bones,” said Baltan, and he was right.

  There were so many of them. On the stone, damp ground there were bodies, many bodies, countless even. They proceeded deeper into the room; it was huge, but there was nothing in it other than the skeletons. They were all near the wall on the one side of the room. Rusted knives lay next to them, swords, even axes.

  “Weapons didn’t make a difference,” Odet said wistfully, holding up a small sword.

  “What killed them?” Ginom wondered but no one could say.

  Their steps had slowed down now, silent and cautious as they explored every inch of the place. Behind them, a ray of light escaped from the floor above through the stairs and unfolded like a golden pathway till the end of the steps. The light was quickly smothered afterwards though, as the crew walked the periphery of the room, exploring it.

  “Nothing,” Vario said nervously. “There’s nothing. All this trouble for nothing.” He hit his fist against the wall; his chains rattled loudly.

  “Easy, Vario,” the captain cautioned.

  “Easy? Easy? This is as easy as it gets!” he complained. “It’s as quiet as the grave in here!” His words echoed on the walls. There was something in his rough voice that disturbed the quiet; Mascardi was trying to avoid that. He could feel some kind of danger lurking.

  “I can’t understand what the use of this room was,” the captain went on.

  “What do you mean?” Odet asked.

  “There’s nothing here, only bodies,” he waved the torch from one side to the other. The fiery tongue moved and illuminated shadows and cracks. “I can’t understand what they used it for.”

  Odet shrugged. “Perhaps some kind of cellar?”

  “It doesn’t smell like a cellar; it doesn’t look like a cellar. It doesn’t look like anything. It makes no sense.”

  “Captain, better come to terms with it, this may have been the most useless journey we ever made,” Baltan spoke up. “At least at the settlement we would get…”

  Before he could finish his sentence, Vario’s growl startled them all. The colossal man marched towards Baltan. His anger had reached its peak and he needed to take it out on someone.

  Baltan stepped back hastily, fumbling with his sword. His bad arm moved nervously.

  “Easy, Vario!” the captain called, in vain. The big silhouette didn’t seem to slow down. “Vario!” he said again. “Stay back, that’s an order.”

  “We’re not on your ship,” he answered through his teeth and let his chains drag on the ground, producing their characteristic sound.

  They didn’t need light to know that Baltan had paled at that threat.

  He stepped backwards, feeling the room shrinking, until his back hit the wall. Everyone heard the thump; Vario was almost upon him and nobody knew what it would take for his wrath to be spent.

  “Vario, no!” multiple voices called at the same time. Vario raised his arms, the chains looped around his forearms; Baltan extended his sword, but his frightened expression couldn’t be mistaken for anything else.

  Suddenly, a wet, deep sound startled them. Baltan felt himself leaning backwards. “What the…”

  The wall behind him started melting, and the next moment, it was sucking him in. Vario couldn’t believe his eyes.

  Baltan screamed, and the crew screamed with him at this horrific sight. Mascardi thrust the torch forward, unable to believe his eyes. The entire wall on one
side of the room seemed to be moving. The damp stones seemed to be melting in front of them, and from within, humanoid figures, dismembered and merged together in one entity, started moving. Three crewmen fled screaming, and if someone barked an order, they never heard it.

  Vario had frozen. The wall was alive, made from dismembered bodies that seemed alive, mashed up into a blob of flesh weaved by nightmares. Arms slithered out of the blob and pulled Baltan in, and within a moment, the old knight disappeared inside the wall.

  Mascardi stared, his mouth trembling; Odet was crying, and even Vario mumbled incredulously.

  “Attack!” the captain cried out, and the rest cried out with him.

  He struck the blob with his sword and it seemed to be howling. Mascardi felt as if he were cutting through flesh; blood gushed out, along with mucus, nauseating him.

  An arm shot out of the wall, wielding a spear. Before he could react, the spear pierced his shoulder. Mascardi cried out and tried to retreat, but the blade had gone through his shoulder and had stuck on his leather jerkin. He was pulled closer, and two more arms, dissimilar, appeared and started drawing him towards the wall.

  Ginom’s whip ripped through the air and coiled around Mascardi’s neck. Choking, the captain made rattling sounds as he was trying to breathe and resist the arms that were pulling him. Ginom pulled at him, Odet struck with his sword and cut one of the arms, relaxing the grip.

  Mascardi recoiled and fell on his back. He removed the whip from his neck and took a deep, ragged breath. Odet dodged an axe blow from the other arm and stepped back.

  “How many of them are in there?” he yelled without expecting an answer, but with his one good eye saw something that broke his heart.

  It was Baltan. It was the headless body he saw first, and then the head further away, moving its mouth and eyes. He was inside the wall, dismembered but alive; he’d become part of the nightmare.

  Odet burst into tears. Even Mascardi nearly broke down – he couldn’t imagine an abyss worse than this.