Voyage of the Elawn

by Ted Neill

  “She still follows us,” Gabriella said.

  “Indeed. It might be best to keep our voices down,” Adamantus said just as Mortimer let out another wild yell.

  “That might be impossible for some of our company,” Gabriella said.

  The shadow of the wyvern circled the dome again as if homing in on Mortimer’s voice. The dragon landed next to the dome, looming over it. The dome’s glass bricks were too dull and dusty with time to see through clearly, but Gabriella could discern the dragon’s head as if she were studying the structure.

  “She knows we are here,” the elk said.

  “Can she break through?”

  “Doubtful, but we cannot be overconfident.”

  The wyvern raked the roof with her claws, producing a dull scraping that shook the entire hall. The yells of excitement from inside died down briefly, only to be replaced by the mocking sound of Mortimer’s voice. “Looks like Nicomedes has got the best of you, worm!”

  The mother struck the dome with her tail. The hall reverberated like a drum, but the glass stones held.

  Amid the chaos, Gabriella entered the treasure house, Adamantus and her brother alongside. The interior itself looked more like a library with dozens of rows of shelves, each filled with wooden and metal chests and boxes. It made sense to Gabriella that Nicomedes would not have left his treasure sitting in a mismatched pile, but instead would have catalogued and shelved it in a practical fashion, just like the tools in his workshop. The extravagance of the treasure was completely hidden, except where Mortimer had yanked down chests and spilled their glittering contents. From the sound of tumbling jewels in adjacent aisles, it was clear that Sybil and her twin were doing the same.

  Gabriella walked up to one of the piles of spilled gold that the princesses had already sorted through. She picked up a coin and examined it. It was as shiny and smooth as if it had been minted the day before. She bit it—she had seen bankers do the same down at the wharf—and was surprised to see her own teeth marks left in it. The writing on the coin was foreign to her and so was the face of the woman on it. The city on the flip side was not—it was the same city in the clouds etched on her whistle.

  She was distracted by a crash on the glass roof, followed by the dragon’s roar. The mother’s cries sounded distant and weak through the stones, but the shadow of the wyvern did not appear to be going anywhere. Gabriella looked at Adamantus.

  “We need to get out of here.”

  “I agree,” the elk said. “But first we explore our options. Something was following us through the maze, and it is likely to follow us again. We should avoid that path. There should be another way out.”

  “Do you think?”

  “I have a hunch. I’ll go this way,” Adamantus said, ducking down an aisle.

  Gabriella got up and paced the walls of the round chamber. They were smooth, cut directly into the rock. In a few places, nooks displayed additional treasures. She found ceremonial weapons encrusted with jewels, suits of armor, maps, and even books—which she found much more interesting than some of the treasure. The walls in many of these hollowed-out spaces were decorated with glittering mosaics.

  As she bent to examine a mosaic, she was startled by a sharp bang. Mortimer had dropped another chest to the floor. The noise agitated the wyvern who raked the glass again, like a cat reaching into a hole for a mouse just out of her reach.

  Gabriella continued her inspection of the room. The next alcove was empty of shelves, chests, or glittering treasure. Instead there were five hideous figures carved of stone. They were life-size, as large as full-grown men. Three of the figures—monsters, really—were perched on the back of a dog-like creature, while a fifth watched from the corner. Each of the unnatural figures was a mismatch of body parts from men and animals. They had legs of horses, torsos of men, shells of tortoises. Their faces were a mess of teeth, not unlike a shark’s mouth. All this was rendered in convincing detail that made Gabriella reluctant to stand too close.

  She suddenly realized why all this seemed familiar. She bent down to examine the beast that carried the other figures upon its back. It was Garmr, the dog of the underworld, with his flattened face, rows of menacing teeth and four eye sockets—just as Adamantus’ tale had described it. Garmr’s four eye sockets were empty and filled with crescents of dust. His eyes were in the hands of his tormentors, the Furies. Four enormous gemstones, each the size of Gabriella’s fist—one red, one purple, one yellow, the other green—gleamed in the dim light.

  “The Eyes of Garmr,” Adamantus said, suddenly beside her.

  As if Nicomedes stood just over her shoulder, Gabriella knew she was supposed to take the gems. She had to take the gems. She stepped forward, much closer to the monsters than she wanted to be, and lifted the jewels from the stone claws. The names of the Furies were carved into their plinths: Lepas held the red stone, Alkeron the purple, and Catab the yellow. As she touched the jewels, her heart bounced against her ribs. She was reminded of the time she had taken a bone from a sleeping dog, only to have it wake and snap at her.

  She paused before she took the last gem. It was the green one, resting in the hand of Falik, the leader of the Furies who stood apart. The sculptor must have had a fascination for the King of the Furies, for Falik was rendered in such detail that it surpassed the other statues. Falik’s snake head was dark in the shadows, the cobra-like hood fanned out to either side.

  Gabriella shivered.

  “We do not have much time,” Adamantus reminded her.

  The gem made a slight grinding noise as the claws gave it up. Gabriella shoved it into her pocket and returned to Adamantus’ side. “Let’s go.”

  They passed more alcoves lined with books and parchment maps. They moved as quickly as they could, before the sisters or Mortimer took too much interest in what they were doing. On the southeast end of the room, they found a door. Unlike the doors within the maze, this one was easy to pick out. There had been no attempts to hide it. The mechanism to open it, an iron crank, appeared to be simple and obvious as well.

  “Should I turn it?” Gabriella asked the elk.

  “I can’t see the harm. If anyone had reached this point, Nicomedes would have wanted them to leave with the treasure safely.”

  The crank did not turn easily at first, but once Gabriella had turned it a few times, it spun quickly. There was substantial machinery behind it, Gabriella realized, for she knew she could never move the stone that made up the door. But move it did, sliding across the floor with the sound of a grave being opened. On the other side was a hallway that led to a grassy verge, and they could smell and feel the fresh crisp autumn air.

  “Go see where it leads,” Adamantus said. “I’ll watch Dameon.”

  Gabriella followed the hallway out onto the grass, where she saw the Elawn docked at the bottom of the slope. A stairway cut into the rock led down the mountainside. Much of it had been covered with soil and vegetation, but in places stairs still showed through. Gabriella kept her head down, lest she be sighted by the mother wyvern. The Tantallon was collapsed in a heap at the crest of the hill where Sybil and Libys had crashed it. The deck of the ship was crushed inward, the mast fallen over like a tree. Gabriella ran back inside.

  “The Elawn is at the bottom of the hill. If we’re quiet we can reach it without the mother seeing us.”

  She wondered if they could escape on their own. With the jewels in her pockets, if they were worth as much as Adamantus said, they could pay off the Servior and Mab Miller. But one of the sisters—Libys, by the way she held her wand with the left hand—came around the corner and saw the door.

  “You have found a doorway. Excellent work, slave.” The sisters had stumbled upon a chest of women’s jewelry for Libys’ body was now covered with oversized necklaces, bracelets, and rings, throwing bits of broken light on the walls all around her.

  “Look at this!” Sybil called. Libys shook her wand, goading Gabriella, Adamantus, and Dameon towards Sybil’s voice.

>   Layers of clashing jewels jingled around Sybil’s neck as well.

  “Aren’t they terrible!” Sybil had discovered the Furies and Garmr. She waved her wand, and shadows of the repulsive statues danced on the walls.

  “They are!” Libys said. The sisters climbed on the Furies’ backs and swung from their limbs. They shrieked and giggled in fear.

  “Let’s bring them alive,” Sybil said in a rush.

  “I think that is a bad idea,” Gabriella said, then bit her lip, aware of her impulsiveness.

  Sybil stood up straighter and turned to her sister. “Did you hear something Libys?”

  “Nothing but meaningless words from our slave,” Libys replied.

  “I shall torture her for her impudence.”

  “Indeed, but she has done one useful thing. She has found a doorway to the outside.”

  “Indeed! Leading where, my sister?”

  “Up the hill to what is left of the Tantallon, but down the hill the Elawn awaits to be loaded.”

  “We will need workers. These will do nicely.” She gestured towards the statues.

  “I agree with Gabriella,” Adamantus said. “That there can be no guarantee that these creatures will behave and be obedient to your commands.”

  “Nonsense,” Sybil said. “I grow tired of your impudence.” With a flick of her wand, she fired a bolt of light at Adamantus. The blast sent him careening across the aisle. He remained on the floor, dazed and sprawled, like a newborn elk. His eyes were unfocused. His wound had reopened and left a bloody swath across the floor.

  Dameon made a terrible growl and lunged for Sybil. Her jewels jangled loudly as his fist landed on them. Sybil stumbled backwards and tripped over Garmr. Gabriella collared her brother. Sybil leapt up and aimed her wand at both of them, stopping when she saw that Dameon had turned on Gabriella and was beating her.

  “Dameon, stop!” Gabriella cried, her head throbbing from where Dameon had struck her. She was able to grab and hold his arms until he stopped flailing, then she released him.

  “Isn’t it wonderful that we get along so much better than those two,” Sybil said to her twin.

  “Without a doubt,” Libys said.

  Dameon left Gabriella for Adamantus. She was surprised by his concern and followed him to the fallen elk. “Touch his face, Dameon,” she said. “See if he wakes.”

  She watched as Dameon, with tenderness she had never seen him use, touched Adamantus’ nose. Usually when he touched anything it was to examine it, but Gabriella could see Dameon trying to imitate their mother’s tender words when waking them in the morning.

  “Rise and shine,” he said. “Rise and shine.”

  Adamantus’ opened his eyes, but they were wide and unfocused. “I fear they did not heed my warning,” he said, looking back down towards the alcove.

  The sisters waved their wands, bathing the statues in a blue-green light. The figures shuddered, and dust fell from their odd bodies. The light of the wands turned dark red, like hot iron glowing in a forge, and in that bloody glow, the Furies stood erect and came to life and Garmr, the blind Dog of the Underworld, stumbled forward.

  Chapter 19

  The Furies

  Gabriella hugged Dameon to her as each statue jumped into a pose of readiness, their stone limbs sliding and grinding with the noise of millstones crushing chaff. The Furies rolled their necks and twisted their hands and feet like wrestlers shaking away stiffness before a match. Gabriella noticed with alarm how each Fury wiggled its fingers. Did they realize they were missing something?

  The stones weighed heavily in her pocket. She pressed herself back against Adamantus. Gabriella was afraid they would turn their blank, accusing eyes on her, but the Furies took no notice of the three of them sprawled on the floor. Instead the demons were distracted by Garmr who stumbled around the alcove as any dog that had just been blinded might. The dog touched his face with his paws, whimpered, and knocked up against the legs of those around him. Gabriella felt a stab of sympathy for him, as she would for any creature who had been maimed.

  Still, none of the Furies moved out of the alcove. Their attention was focused on Falik, who stood taller than all of them, a commander among his troops. He flexed his hood. For a fleeting moment Gabriella felt the weight of his gaze before he turned his snake face to Sybil and Libys.

  “Hear me, oh creatures of stone. We are your masters, and you are our slaves. You will obey every command of mine,” Sybil said.

  “Of ours,” Libys was quick to add.

  The other Furies—Lepas, Alkeron, and Catab—looked to Falik, who closed his hood like a peacock folding his tail and knelt down before Sybil. The others copied, kneeling down beside him. Garmr, in the meantime, stumbled against the wall, sniffing the ground. The dog growled, then lunged for Lepas.

  Lepas, who had the head of a wolf, a spiny back like a porcupine, and arms like a man, tried to escape, but Garmr was too quick. He caught Lepas’ horse leg in his mouth and swung him against the wall. Bricks shattered. Stone ground against stone as Lepas struggled against Garmr’s rows of teeth. Hearing the clamor, the wyvern struck more forcefully back at the dome. Dust came down in sheets. Treasure fell from the shelves and the bricks trembled under their feet.

  Falik shot across the alcove and struck a withering blow to Garmr, who fell aside, cowering. Falik beat the dog again until it was crouching in the corner, its howls diminished to whimpers. Garmr began to crack. It seemed as if Falik would not stop until Garmr was reduced to rubble, but Sybil shouted, “Enough!”

  Falik’s fist stilled, poised in the air ready for one more strike. Garmr limped out of the alcove and back between two bookcases, his mouth fixed in a frown, his head drooping. Falik turned to his mistress with slow, calculated loyalty. Gabriella sensed no coercion there, no blind obedience, only a choice, for as long as it suited him.

  “Let us find Sir Mortimer,” Sybil said. “And present to him our newest servants.”

  They traveled in single file to the other end of the chamber. Sybil and Libys led them, their backs turned to their train of slaves. Gabriella, Adamantus, and Dameon followed, Adamantus still limped and occasionally staggered. Gabriella and Dameon walked on either side to support him.

  The Furies brought up the rear. Gabriella did not like turning her back on the vile creatures. Alkeron, with his spider’s head, his fangs working constantly, was just behind her, sidling along on crab legs. Lepas followed next with his snarling wolf face, and Catab, whose head was that of a boar, came after. Catab restrained Garmr with his massive mantis claw. Falik marched last.

  Mortimer, deep between the rows of shelves, had spilled the ransoms of many kings already.

  “What’s going on here?” he said, staring at the Furies and Garmr.

  “I brought them to life to carry treasure for us,” Sybil said. “Gabriella here found a door that leads to your ship.”

  “They are hideous,” he said, sneering at the statues. Gabriella wondered if he remembered the fable about them, but he did not seem to. “They listen to you?”

  “Of course. All my slaves do.” Sybil turned to the statues. “Slaves, pick up the treasure, put it back in the boxes and carry the boxes to the ship outside.”

  The Furies obeyed. Garmr strayed out of line, towards Gabriella, his nose sniffing the air. She felt her skin flush. If he could smell the Furies, could he detect the gem-eyes in her pockets? The scent must have grown stronger, for the dog clambered towards Gabriella, his nostrils wide, his tail wagging. Adamantus casually stepped in the way. But there was no need. Catab yanked Garmr by his collar and placed a full box of treasure on his broad back. The dog gave a soft whine.

  “Extraordinary,” Mortimer said, watching Catab yoke Garmr.

  Sybil ordered the statues to fill the Elawn. As Gabriella watched the Furies work, Libys turned to her.

  “Move! You’re a slave, too.”

  Gabriella picked up the spilled treasure and dumped it back into chests. Her hands could not contain a
s much as the wide hands and claws of the Furies. Adamantus came up beside her and told her to place a bag of coins on his back.

  “You are still injured. You need to rest.”

  “I am not letting you carry treasure outside with these creatures alone.”

  She smiled her gratitude at the elk as Mortimer walked over to Alkeron. The statue was moving with mindless efficiency, but one of his eight spider eyes was fixed on the trapper.

  “Where did you find these things?” he asked.

  “They were in an alcove in the wall,” Sybil said.

  “Are there other alcoves?”

  Alkeron nodded.

  “Brilliant, it heard me,” Motimer said. “If these things have been here long enough perhaps they can tell us where the eyes of Garmr are.”

  Garmr lifted his head, hearing Mortimer speak his name, but Catab pulled the dog towards the door. Gabriella dropped the coins she was collecting.

  “What are the eyes of Garmr?” Libys asked.

  “They are gems, worth more than all the gold here,” Mortimer said. “Adamantus told me about them.”

  “Is that what you are looking for now, turning over all these boxes?” Sybil asked.

  “Yes. Elk, you have no idea where they might be?”

  “I imagine they could be anywhere in this chamber.”

  “Well, perhaps the statues know,” Mortimer said. He kicked Lepas. “Hey, you know where the eyes of Garmr are?” he yelled close to the statue’s ear.

  Gabriella stood ready to grab her brother and run. But Lepas kept scooping treasure up in his hands and filling boxes. Mortimer shrugged. “Maybe they don’t know.”

  “Maybe the stones are just legend,” Libys suggested. She turned to Falik. “You, Snakehead, can you show us where there are more jewels?”