Vanora glanced at Angus. “Well, you haven’t keeled over yet, so I guess it must be safe to drink.” She put the cup to her lips and swallowed the tea in one gulp, clutched her throat, and stuck out her tongue. “Yuk.”
Fane threw back his head, laughed and slapped her on the back. “It will be worth it, my dear, as you will see.”
The captain jumped to his feet. “We must be off, for the power of the Dragon’s jaw fades quickly.”
8
Captain Lee showed them to the deck cluttered with crates and coiled rope. While Fane and the captain discussed nautical matters, Angus and Vanora stood at the rail and peered into the thick haze. A damp taste of salt and seaweed permeated the fog-laden air. What secrets did the island hold?
A stiff wind lifted the murkiness, revealing a stony hulk of land.
Vanora nudged him. “That’s Staffa.”
Great horizontal columns of rock shaped by ancient lava formed the island’s jagged edges and rocky joints. No heather, bracken, or trees grew on its surface, only dots of yellow flowers and rich lichens. Seabirds with black and white plumage flocked on the isle’s thatched surface. Ivory gulls wheeled overhead, gliding on the winds.
Angus spotted three sea-caves on the southeast side of the island.
“Which one is Fingal’s cave?”
Vanora shivered from the chilly air. Angry waves beat against the ship’s massive rudder. “I think it’s the one on the left. I was here as a kid, but the only thing I really remember was that you had to watch your step inside. The ledges are narrow and slippery and the cave has no floor, just the ocean, hundreds of feet deep. ”
The ship stopped short of the entrance. Captain Lee came to Angus’ side, closed his eyes, and inhaled deeply. “Ah, the sweet music of Fingal’s cave.”
Foamy surf raced into the cave, cascaded down the rock walls like the caress of a mother’s hand, then escaped back to the sea. With each incoming burst of ocean, the frothy water strummed against the rocky interior, causing a haunting wail.
The ship jolted forward and Angus stumbled and grabbed the rail. The wooden deck groaned beneath his feet. His eyes had to be playing tricks on him. The bow of the vessel seemed to be shrinking so it would fit inside the dark cave. Angus’ heart raced. What could be lurking in the shadows? Thanks to Captain Lee’s special tea, his eyes were like two brilliant flashlight beams. Angus scanned the inky interior, a great vaulted cathedral with a violent ocean floor.
The vessel heaved up and down with each swell of sea, its long black mast almost touching the ceiling. Pillars of rocks twisted to the top of the cave and down into the murky depths. To Angus, it looked like the insides of a massive organ, or the creases of an accordion.
Captain Lee bowed low in front of Angus. In his hands, he held a wooden box. “Please accept these gifts and use them wisely.” Angus took the box and opened it. “Inside,” Captain Lee said, “you’ll find a hammer, chisel, and iron stakes made by the mining dwarves of Sing Mein. You’ll also find a dagger forged in the belly of the Meili mountain range. The dagger has remained hidden between the deep gorges of the Mekong and Salween Rivers for ten thousand years.”
Angus’ breath caught in his throat. A dagger? Why would he need a dagger? He tamped down the unsettling feelings and bowed to Captain Lee. “Thank you, I’ll take good care of them.”
The captain placed the tools in a leather pack and handed it to him. He whistled and Morocco emerged from the cabin to stand beside him with another pack. The captain took the leather satchel, laced together with knotted brown cord. He gave Fane a sturdy nod, and the old man took the pack and slung it onto his shoulder. Captain Lee showed them to a rope ladder dangling over the gunwale. At the end of the ladder a rocky ledge served as a walkway inside the cave.
Fane started down the ladder first, followed by Vanora. Angus hesitated; he peered over the side. It wasn’t that far down, but his stomach flipped. He gathered his courage, grabbed the rail, swung his foot over until he felt the burlap rope, and climbed down. He stepped carefully onto a crude walkway of fractured columns just above the water level.
Angus glanced back at the ship, but it had already disappeared. He started to say something to Vanora when Fane shouted. “Blasted black bats! Why can’t I remember?”
Fane stuck his hand in a dark and narrow crevasse in the cave wall.
Angus came to his side. “What are you looking for?”
Fane wedged his hand into another gap. “A doorway. The only way inside. I’ve never used this way to get in. This path is meant for mortals. Because of that, the entrance is well hidden, and with good reason. Inside is a series of great halls built by three ancient rulers, your ancestor, King MacBain of Scotland, The High King of Ireland, Brian Boru, and King Forkbeard of Norway. It served as a meeting place and as an entrance into Ceoban. Little did they know that dark creatures shunned and banned from other places would seek refuge in the great halls. When the kings died hundreds of years ago, no one used the halls anymore, and the creatures all but took over.”
“Dark creatures?” Vanora whispered. “Do you mean bats and that sort of thing?”
Fane shook his head. “Nothing as simple as that.”
The muscles in Angus’ neck tightened. “Isn’t there some other way we can get to Ceoban?”
“I’m afraid not. Now, we must hurry. We don’t have much time.” Fane reached inside his shirt pocket and took out a pair of round wire spectacles. He slipped them on, shaping the earpieces around his ears. “Let’s have another look at your book.”
Angus dug the journal out of his pocket and gave it to him. Fane flipped past the pages with the fighting giants and studied a drawing of an ancient pyramid. He smiled wide, tucked the spectacles into his shirt pocket, and snapped his fingers. “Ah-ha, how could I have forgotten about Ferock’s harp?”
“Harp?” Angus said. “What good will that do?”
“It’s said to open doorways and secret passageways.” Fane handed Angus the book and hurried out of the cave, climbing over the rocks. Angus scrambled to catch up, slipping on the wet stone. He shot a glance over his shoulder at Vanora.
She dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “Go ahead, I’ll stay here and see if I can find a way inside.” She continued to prod the rocky surfaces with her fingers.
When Angus caught up with Fane, he bent over to catch his breath. “What does a harp have to do with a pyramid?” he huffed.
Fane gripped Angus’ shoulders and swiveled him around to face a pyramid-shaped rock, and with a long knobby finger he pointed. “That’s Am Bucichaille, or in your tongue, The Herdsman. Inside its rocky interior lies a knee harp given to a greedy sea monster named Ferock in exchange for protecting the entrance to the great halls.” Fane leaned heavily on his walking stick and drew a deep breath. “As the centuries passed, and Ferock grew from old to ancient, he left Fingal’s cave. He sleeps at the bottom of the ocean on top of an underground warm spring. While he soaks his aching bones, he keeps watch over the treasure he pillaged from shipwrecks. The vile beast will surely awaken when we strum just a few notes on his precious harp.”
Angus gave Fane a quizzical look. “What will he do to us? If he’s a sea monster, then he can’t come on land…can he? ”
Fane shrugged. “He’s as volatile as the sea. Remember, you are not dealing with a familiar adversary. Never, ever underestimate the power or skill of a foe from another place or time.” Fane paused and studied the sky. “Now listen, we must have no conversation from this point forward.” He pointed to a flock of puffins. “You can’t trust those birds. They will tell the crow everything they hear us say and everything that we do. They all stick together, you know, all birds.”
Angus stared at the birds. A fat one glared at him. “Why would they do that?”
“They can’t help themselves; it’s just their fickle nature. Puffins are the worst sort of gossips next to Kittiwakes and snoopy Razorbills. So your job is to distract them while I get the harp.” Fane gav
e Angus a push. “Make a run at them and keep them busy for awhile.”
Angus flapped his arms and ran at the birds, sending them flying into the air like a snow flurry, while Fane hiked to the highest point of the rock. Angus made another run at the birds and returned to keep the old man in sight.
Fane winked at Angus, slipped the leather satchel off his shoulder and unwrapped a set of gold stakes and a mallet. He gripped the hammer and brought it down hard, driving each stake one after another into the face of the rock. A blue florescent light filled the dusky air as the rock split just wide enough for him to reach inside.
For a moment, Angus feared something had Fane's hand, but after a bit of wrestling he withdrew a rotten cowhide bag from the hole, pulled off the sodden material, and tossed it aside. In his hands he held a small, jewel-encrusted, golden harp that twinkled in the hazy light. He tucked the beautiful instrument under his arm and headed back inside the cave, eyes hard and determined. Angus followed, finding it difficult to maneuver over all the uneven rocks, but it didn’t seem to bother Fane who walked as if he knew every level place to step.
Fane sat on a rock inside the cave and plucked a few notes.
Nothing happened.
Vanora, busy studying the cave wall, turned her attention to Fane. “Would you like me to play it for you? I got an A in band.”
Fane handed her the harp and with her pink fingernails she plucked a few notes. The noise reverberated inside the cave. Fane shot a glance toward the water, his shoulders tense. She picked a few more notes. The cave wall shook and Vanora paused.
Fane leapt forward. “Keep playing.”
With shaky fingers, Vanora continued to pluck the strings. The earth shook beneath their feet and the ocean water trembled. Her eyes widened and she stopped playing.
Fane waved a hand at her. “Don’t stop.”
Vanora glanced across the rocks and out to sea. She bit her lower lip and reached for the harp strings with trembling hands. She plucked a few more notes. The walls rumbled and, with a great grumbling of the earth, split apart as if on rollers to reveal a set of massive doors. Vanora jumped to her feet, handed the harp to Fane, and stared at the ornate entrance.
Below them, the waters boiled. White froth grew and twisted and splashed. A monstrous beast rose from the depths. A colossal creature so terrifying that Angus opened his mouth to scream, but not even a squeak came out. He gaped in stunned silence at the cephalopod-like beast with huge protruding eyes. A spiked tentacle, nearly eight feet long with rotating hooks, whipped to the surface. As the water sluiced off the thing, the hooks began gyrating and quivering. While Angus watched, one of them snaked out and wrapped around Vanora’s leg, dragging her on her belly, toward the water at top speed. She clawed and scraped, but she could get no hold. The thing kept dragging, pulling her closer to its gaping mouth, beating her over the rocky outcroppings.
“Vanora!” Angus scrambled over the rocks and leapt for her. He got hold of her hand. His fingers closed around hers. He pulled, but little by little her fingers slipped out of his grip.
The monster dragged her closer and closer to the ledge. She reached out and seized a pointy rock, holding on until her knuckles turned pale.
“Help me,” she screamed.
9
Fane grabbed the harp and heaved it at the monster. “Take it, you wicked wretch!” Ferock released his hold on Vanora’s leg, snatched the harp with a slimy hook and sunk down into the boiling depths.
Angus climbed to Vanora’s side and helped her up.
She peered down at her pant leg covered with a long trail of slug slime. “Yuk.”
“Are you all right?” Angus asked.
“I think so.” Vanora took a deep breath, then grinned. “Did anyone get a picture? My father would love it.”
Angus glowered. “Are you kidding me? It wasn’t exactly a Kodak moment.”
“No time for chatter,” Fane said. “We must get inside before Ferock returns. One gift is never enough to satisfy his greediness.”
They rushed to the ancient entrance sealed by two arched bronze doors with raised panels engraved in silver. In the center stood the MacBain crest, surrounded by Celtic scrolls and knotwork. Thick iron hasps and a mammoth lock kept the doors shut against intruders.
Fane peered over his shoulder, eyes sweeping the churning waters. “Use your amulet to unlock it, young man, and be quick about it.”
Angus reached inside his shirt and drew out the dragon. He inserted the tail into the lock. A rusty cry rose from the medieval padlock. The catch opened and fell to one side.
Fane inhaled a hurried breath. “Like I told you before, remember to stick together and listen to every word I tell you. Evil creatures await us in every shadow, each dark corner.”
Fane shoved on the massive doors until sweat beaded his brow. For a second, Angus thought they might budge, but they stayed firmly sealed. Fane gave it one last try, heaving his shoulder hard into the center. The old hinges screeched as the doors scraped open.
Angus eyed the cavern’s yawning entrance warily. The shadowy opening reminded him of the empty eye socket of a skull. A cold shiver shot down his spine.
Fane peered into the dark hole and then cast his eyes to Angus and Vanora. “Stay close.” He took a cautious step forward, then disappeared inside.
“Ladies first.” Angus chuckled, backing away.
Vanora shook her head. “No way, you first.”
Angus stuck his chest out, trying to act brave, and stepped inside, shuffling his feet forward as his eyes adjusted. Vanora plowed into his back.
“Watch it,” he snapped. Tension caused his neck to stiffen.
“Sorry,” Vanora said. “Guess the dragon jaw tea is wearing off. It’s pitch black in here.”
Angus agreed, straining to see in the dark. Beneath his feet, the aged stone floor felt level and smooth. Stale, cold air trapped for centuries sucked the warmth from his bones. He shuddered and wrapped his arms around himself.
Torchlight flared and the smell of sulfur and moss added a tang to the damp air. Fane held the torch in front of him. It took a while for Angus to take it all in. He stood in a large cave, maybe forty paces from wall to wall. High above his head jagged stalactites glistened. A fireplace with an iron caldron and a rocky mantel stood in ruin, caked with a film of fine dust and silt. An enormous table of cut stone rested in the center of the room.
“Welcome to the Hall of Kings.” Fane’s voice echoed. “Now we must sit, but don’t do so until I tell you to. Angus, the honor of sitting here will be yours now.” Fane pointed to an enormous jewel-encrusted stone chair at the head of the table. “It is King MacBain’s throne. Your throne.” Angus stood by the big chair. His chest swelled. For the first time in his life, he felt special. He, of all people was someone very important. Royalty in fact! Angus smiled, forgetting how big and awkward he was. How the kids at school teased him. He even forgot how scared he was.
Fane walked around the table studying each chair before turning to Vanora. “What nationality is your father’s family?”
“Belgian.”
“Yes of course. This will be your place.” He brushed off the dust and cobwebs from a tall-backed chair to Angus’ right. “This one belonged to King Alfred the Good from Brussels. Perfect for you, dear. Come stand behind it.”
Fane selected a seat opposite Vanora. “Now we may all sit down. Please hold on tight to the arms of the chairs.”
They took their seats. Vanora wrinkled her nose at the thick layer of cobwebs and dust. She wiped the seat off with her shirt sleeve and sat down. Instantly, Vanora’s chair spun around and pitched her forward onto the floor. Fane jumped to his feet. “Oh, my dear child, I am sorry. I must have gotten King Alfred’s chair mixed up with King Louis the Black. Very unpredictable man he was, and the rudest sort.” Fane pointed to another chair. “Try the seat next to that one, dear. That’s King Alfred’s for sure.”
Vanora brushed herself off and eyed the next chair. She sl
ipped into it and squeezed her eyes tight as if expecting the worst. When nothing happened, she snapped them open and breathed a sigh of relief.
Fane held the torch high. “Everyone ready?”
Before they could reply, the ground shook and slots beneath their feet opened up. The chairs slowly lowered through the floor and the Hall of Kings disappeared above them. They sank deeper downward until they stopped with a thud in a dark chamber. Fane carried his torch in front of him to a far wall and lit two more torches. He handed one to Vanora and the other to Angus. They stood and followed him as he burned away thick drapes of cobwebs with his torch, causing a horrid smell of scorched fungus.
“Don’t touch the webbing,” Fane warned. “It’s as sharp as knives and will cut to the bone.”
Fane continued to burn the webbing away from the walls. Something scurried across Angus’ feet, then flew through the air and jumped at Fane. A black spider as big as a cat landed on the old man’s shoulder. Before he could swat at it, the thing scurried crablike across his back. It had eight jointed legs and two short forelegs that ended with giant pincers. The pincers snapped at his neck.
Fane threw himself against the stone-wall, smashing the spider. It fell to the floor, twitched a few times and leaked a pool of putrid green from its hairy thorax. Its shovel-like jaws clacked open. Fane held his arm out, backing Angus and Vanora away.
“I think it’s dead, but just in case, stay clear of its jaws. It spits out a dagger-like webbing, impaling its victims.”
Vanora swept her torch around the room. “There must be more of those things living in here.” She spun around. “Do I have anything on my back?”
Fane shook his head. “Shouldn’t be another one for a while. These kinds of spiders are reclusive by nature. In other words, they like to be alone.”
Angus nodded. “Good. I’ll give them all the alone time they want. Now, let’s get out of here.”
Angus MacBain and the Island of Sleeping Kings Page 7