by M. C. Elam
Gooey spit still covered his legs. He turned the dagger sideways and began scraping at the stinking mess. An hour later most of it lay in a noxious puddle that seemed to seep into the rock. Hawk checked the egg sac. The spider children moved inside. Did they know about the mantis? He sat down next to the sac, touched the back of his neck, and winced at a tender spot that festered in the exact place where Coreantha had touched him. Maybe part of the story the mantis told was true. Perhaps she did plan to serve both of them up when she brought Terill back.
Exhausted, Hawk drew his knees toward his chest, clasped both arms around his legs, and rested his head against them. Hunger gnawed in the pit of his stomach, and he was thirsty. Despite the encounter with the mantis, he dozed again, but every sound brought him fully awake, and the glassy mantis eyes mirrored his movement. Its body oozed bloodlike fluid onto the ledge until a puddle formed, and Hawk could hear the drip-drip of more bug juice draining into it.
Nausea replaced hunger. He rose and began to drag the body to a place where he could kick it over the edge. It was heavier than he imagined. The abdomen and wings left behind a shiny trail. He had it nearly into position when the tapping started. Panting for breath, he wasn’t sure the sound was real or in his head. At first, the disjointed click-tap rhythm seemed to match his heartbeat, but when his breathing slowed, and the sound grew louder. Any doubt about the source vanished.
Coreantha crept along the wall toward him, and straddling her stalk like neck, hands wrapped around tufts of curly, white hair, rode Terill. Hawk called out and waved as soon as they came into view. Good as her word, the spider had brought Terill straight to him. She squatted on the ledge, reached around with one front leg, and lifted Terill to the ground.
“My deepest thanks to you, Cory.” He made a courtly bow.
“A pleasure, Terill. Now let us see how the young prince fairs.” She turned to Hawk. “Not such an easy job, a? I see a giant mantis found its way to you.”
“I was just getting ready to dispose of it.”
“Ah, no. Leave it. I did not expect you to face a mantis, but it solves another dilemma.”
“What dilemma?” asked Terill.
“Come and sit with your friend. I will explain it to you, and then see you on your way.” She moved toward the mantis and began to slurp up the juice from the ledge. “You see, all of my work has gone into finding a suitable mate and preparing for the arrival of my young. I have had nothing to sustain me in many days. When Hawk arrived I thought first he would make the meal I needed.” She slurped another glob of mantis juice then punctured the mantis and sucked a huge globe through the hollow tubes that protruded from her mouth area. “But,” she sighed. “Once I gave my word to you, Hawk, I knew I was honor bound to keep it. Of course, the only promise I made regarding Terill was to find him and reunite both of you. So I thought.” She dipped her front leg up to the joint in the pool of juice and took it up to her mouth sucking it clean. “Forgive me, can’t let this go to waste. Anyway, I thought I would deposit Terill, let the two of you rejoice, and then suck out his sweet juice.”
Terill paled.
“Relax, young man. During our time together, I learned to appreciate you. You treated me with kind words and didn’t recoil from me, not even once. So, I decided my conscience did not permit me to end your life. Pardon me once again.” She pulled the mantis further onto the ledge and climbed onto its belly. “Normally, I like a live meal, but the kill is fresh enough. I am certain you don’t mind, do you Hawk?”
“Not at all, Coreantha. I am glad you arrived before I pushed it over the side.”
“Now you see my dilemma emerging, I think. Faced with not killing either of you, my precious children were all that remained between me and starvation. A time or two in the long ago, I had to devour them as they hatched, and let me tell you, those were horrid days, indeed. I vowed never to do such evil again, but even though I meant that vow with all of my being, I feared hunger might drive me over the edge. So, I faced one last choice. I planned to ask you to slay me.” She gulped down more goo. “But, young prince, the mantis changed all of that. My belly is as full now as can be, and my children will break free in a few hours to join me. All that remains is that I show you the way out of here.”
She led them farther along the ledge to a place where it narrowed down to nothing.
“Beyond this spot, you will find a tiny slit in the wall. The slit leads to the next cavern.”
“But how can we get through?” asked Terill.
“I must return now to my children. Be swift young humans. My children have made no promises of honor to either of you, and even with all I provide, they will be hungry.” She disappeared into the darkness.
“Coreantha,” Hawk called. His voice echoed through the cavern without reply. He looked at Terill. “What now? We haven’t enough ledge to stand on, let alone get to the slit in the rock.”
They gaped at each other for long minutes.
“Anything in the pack?” asked Terill.
“Why didn’t I think of it? Yes, the shrinking potion.” He dug around in his pack and found the vial. “Half for you and half for me.”
“Aye. Must be why we carry it.”
“Are you sure?” said Hawk.
“No. Are you?”
“No.”
“I guess we’ll find out. You first.”
Hawk started to put his pack down on the ledge to open the vial.
‘No, Hawk. What if the potion shrinks you so small you can’t lift the bag.”
“Gods, you’re right.” He hung the bag back over his shoulder. “And if I drop the vial once I drink?”
“I’ll be ready,” said Terill. “Take only half.”
“Aye.” Hawk took a swallow, checked the level, and sipped a little more. Nothing happened. He handed it off to Terill who drank the rest.
They waited.
Hawk expected he’d feel some kind of change, a vibration, an explosion, a physical folding, some signal that the potion had altered his body. Yet, nothing occurred, nothing at all. He turned to Terill, thinking that since he drank first, Terill might look larger to him. They stood shoulder to shoulder—no difference at all.
“It isn’t working, Terill. The mixture must have spoiled.”
“Aye, my thoughts, too. Maybe it takes longer.”
“What if it didn’t work because we used it at the wrong time?”
“Everything here is a gamble,” said Terill. “So far our hunches have worked.”
“Or we made them work.”
“Can you think of another way to get through a crack in the wall?”
“No. The potion has to be the right choice.” He walked to the lip of the ledge and looked over the side. After a few feet, darkness swallowed the weak light. “I can’t see anything below.”
“Hawk, the ledge is wider than before. Remember when Cory led us here? You had to walk behind me. Now, here you stand right beside me with plenty of room to spare. Either it grew, or we did shrink.”
“Further on the ledge disappeared and all that was left was the wall,” said Hawk. He took a few steps ahead. “Now I can see it narrowing but still there. I think you’re right. We are smaller, a lot smaller by my estimate.”
“Small enough to slip through a crack?”
“I think we’d better find out in a hurry. Do you hear that tapping noise?”
“Spiders?” asked Terill.
“Aye.”
They found the passage easily enough. Fresher than the dank spider cavern, a cool stream of air came from the other side. Terill entered without hesitation, but Hawk held back. Squeezing through the crevice played on a claustrophobic tendency he had harbored from boyhood when he climbed into a trunk and the lid had slammed shut during a game of hide-and-seek with Evangeline. She had found him nearly suffocated in the tight space. Now he imagined the rock closing around him the same way. The thought of it made his throat tighten as though an iron hand clutched his windpipe. Afraid to go ba
ck and face hungry spiders and afraid of being stuck in the crevice, he weighed the choices, remembered the confident way Terill proceeded, and pushed ahead. Every step proved difficult. The rock scrapped off little bites of his skin every place it found an opportunity. He began to think of it as something alive, eating away at him. Keeping his eyes focused on Terill helped, and he tried to forget everything except putting one foot in front of the other. Time seemed to drag. He knew it could be no more than a few minutes, but waiting to breathe made him gasp and then he wondered why he did wait. Fear, he supposed, plain and simple, fear. He wouldn’t like Evangeline to know what a coward a little bit of rock made of him. He tried to take another step and found his foot stuck fast, wedged tight, swallowed in rock. He pulled and jerked trying to twist free. Terill moved farther away. He’d be out of sight in a minute.
No, Terill, don’t go, he thought. He was a little boy again, closed inside a wardrobe chest, the feel of velvet robes stuffed into his mouth, his cheeks awash with tears. Come back Terill. Open the lid and let the light come.
Evangeline where are you now. Evangeline, my Evangeline, I need you. Write an ode for me, and sing it in that high sweet voice. Sing it to the morning, and teach it to the traveling minstrels, a hero’s song about the Prince of Ascalla. He, who quested for the realm and died with his foot stuck in the throat of a bloody rock.
Exertion and lack of oxygen made him woozy, and he imagined the rock to be butter, slippery, yielding, butter. He pushed against it with both hands and watched them disappear, sinking in all the way to the shoulder. He had won against the rock monster. Now it would let him go. But he was wrong. The rock had fooled him, trapped him, eaten his foot, and now captured both arms. “Terill, Terill where are you?” The sound of his voice came back weak and lost, suffocated by the rock walls of the crevice. Was that a flicker of light just ahead? No, only a cruel trick to make him believe he was near the opening to the cavern. It blinked in and out with each shallow breath he took. His head lolled and fell against the cool surface. Slipping deeper into gloom, he knew the rock meant to suck him inside. He was going to die here, like one of the stone warriors. A murky inner sanctum where he could not turn or bend, raise his arms or move his legs, closed in the absolute darkness that swallowed him. Cold rock owned him now, and the world died away.
“Hawk, grab hold and pull toward me. Hawk, do you hear me? Grab my arm.”
“Terill, the rock has me. I can’t get my arms free.”
“No, brother, I have you, not the rock. Now, pull toward me.”
He tried, but his foot was still stuck, and the rock threatened to crush his ankle. “My foot’s stuck, Terill. Go back before the rock eats you too.”
“It’s just rock, Hawk, not hungry for me or you. Stand steady now while I try free you.” After a minute he stopped. “I can’t reach your foot, Hawk. Try moving it around.”
“Tried before. The rock won’t let go,” said Hawk. He trembled, his voice weak and breathy.
“Try again.” He shoved hard. “Now!”
Hawk lost his balance and took a step backward. Out popped the foot leaving behind a bit of ankle skin.
“I’m loose.”
“Aye, brother, you’re free. Now grab hold of my arm and let’s get out of here.”
Hawk’s breath came easier, and his head cleared. Stupid fool, he admonished. He had only to forget about the foot and right out it came, never stuck in the first place. In two strides, he reached Terill and bumped against him. The crevice widened, and they stepped into the open cavern. “We’re through!”
“What say we rest here a bit—figure out what comes next?” Terill eased him down on the ledge.
“Thank you, Terill.”
“Ah, for what?”
“Back there, the rock. I feared being trapped.”
“And I feared you were.” He clapped Hawk on the back and grinned.
“You look done in. Galrunda gave you a good run,” said Hawk.
“Aye, he did.”
“How did you lose him?”
“Wasn’t me. He figured out the ruse with the river stones. Would have caught me, but Cory came along and convinced me you sent her. We left Galrunda stranded across the lava and she carried me back.”
Hawk leaned against the wall with his legs stretched out in front of him. His muscles ached and thirst made his mouth dry. He couldn’t shake the same restless fear.
“How do you keep from being afraid, Terill?”
“Me?”
“Aye. Since we came into the caves, I have carried fear like the pack I throw over my shoulder. It grows stronger every day. Back there, before we came through the opening, I thought I might die. You kept going.”
“So did you.”
“Only because I saw you ahead of me.”
“Then I am glad I led. I’m scared, too, Hawk, but I don’t think having a healthy fear makes cowards of us. It keeps us alert, careful.”
“I don’t think I am the kind of son my father needs to lead Ascalla.”
“Self doubt?”
“I never used to feel that. Not before I came here with you.”
“I feel it, too. My father called me a young rooster. What do you know of roosters? They strut, wings spread, display their plumage. Father said the term cocky comes straight from them. I think we might not be young roosters when we find our way out of here,” said Terill.
“No denying that. Talking spiders, dwarves that turn to stone, pillars shaped like warriors, I think I am starting to believe in magic, too. Terill?”
How could he fall asleep so quickly, wondered Hawk? He sighed and tried to relax. Wasn’t the quest supposed to give him answers? So far, every encounter resulted in more questions. Magical people, magical spiders, they thrilled him, frightened him in a way he failed to understand. He tried to picture his father beside Griffin, facing one fantastic encounter after another, but Father and magic in the same thought, the image failed.
The country folk with their superstitions and potions and mysterious ceremonies believed. Well, sometimes when Granny Stone came to tend his mother, they whispered together about faeries and spirits. Not as if they had a place in reality, just stories that passed the time. Evangeline used to ask him to mind-speak with her. Was that magic? He never thought of it that way. The game intrigued him, but he never caught on to what she wanted. She claimed he didn’t believe, and that was why they failed at it so miserably. She was right, of course. He didn’t believe. Hearing what someone thought just by thinking about them, no he didn’t believe. Though, he’d give a year of life to hear her sweet voice inside his head right now. He ached to hold her, make up for leaving her to face his father alone. He wished he had never written that note. He worried now that their marriage might be an act of treason because of the betrothal obligation. Talk to me now, Evangeline, he thought, and squeezed his eyes shut. He tried to picture her in the cottage. He walked every foot of the distance across the clearing, but the door stood ajar, and the hearth was cold and dark. No bright laughter welcomed him. The little cottage at the edge of Pandera’s Forest appeared abandoned. He shook his head and blinked to clear the image. If magic brought images like that, he wanted no part of it. Let Terill rest, and then they’d be on their way. No more thinking about magic and mind speak. He’d work it all out when he got home.
***
“Here is the restore potion, Hawk, safe and sound. Do you think we should use it now?” Terill found the potion at the bottom of his pack and held it out.
“I don’t know. We might need to be small for some other reason. If we reverse the action, we can’t go back again.”
“Aye, true enough.”
“Do you mind very much—staying small I mean?”
“No. I don’t feel any different. Crossing the cavern might take longer, though.”
“Let’s be off. We can always use the restore potion if we run into a problem,” said Hawk.
They climbed the short distance to the floor of the cavern and
struck a path straight to the other side. Soft light emanated from beneath their feet in an ever-changing array of color, from rich rose to deep sapphire. Wondering about the source fascinated them. Terill leaned over for a closer look. Clusters of crystals wedged together in tight formations composed the surface, the angles of each one separate, unique, yet conjoined to the next, as though placed with purpose. The brightest of them glittered with fierce passion and emitted beams of color that skipped against the cavern walls. The most beautiful looked full of opalescent fog, and the light inside changed to a soft, pearly glow that drifted against the multifaceted surface.
“A bed of jewels,” said Terill. He traced the surface of one of the crystals. “Look at this one. The color of Shadall’s deepest waters, what do you think makes it?”
“Fire from below, lava maybe?” said Hawk. “I don’t know.” He knelt beside Terill. “The crystals bend the light like a chunk of broken glass. My father kept a piece on his writing table. I asked about it once.”
“What did he say?”
“He said he kept it because it made colors from sunlight.”
“Sunlight?”
“Aye”
“Colors come from sunlight? Of course,” said Terill. He touched a place where two crystals rested side by side, fused together. “Your father’s keepsake, maybe it came from here.”
“That’s a ridiculous notion,” said Hawk, “sunlight in a cave? Must be some other explanation.” He weighed the look on Terill’s face hoping for reason and finding confusion.
“You find an explanation then,” said Terill and walked away.
“Wait, Terill. Are you angry?”