The Wooden Prince

by John Claude Bemis

Sop was silent for a few seconds and then said, “Scratching post, ol’ pal, if I weren’t so exhausted right now, I’d claw your face off.”

  “Glad to hear it,” Pinocchio said.

  Down the shore, something urgent was happening. Mezmer’s voice seemed pitched with panic.

  “What’s the matter?” Lazuli called, the glow of her eyes searching for the fox.

  “Cinnabar,” Mezmer said. “Cinnabar! Can you hear me?”

  Sop leaped to his feet and ran. Pinocchio felt frozen to his spot, as a horrible feeling of dread poured over him. Cinnabar! He’d completely forgotten about Cinnabar when he’d flown them into the ocean.

  “He’s alive,” Mezmer said when they reached her. “But he’s unconscious. Maybe…Cinnabar!” she cried, obviously trying to revive the djinni.

  “His elemental heat has been doused,” Lazuli said.

  “What do we do?” Pinocchio asked, churning with guilt. He didn’t much like Cinnabar, but he’d never wanted to harm him.

  “Fire,” Mezmer said. “We have to get him in a fire.”

  “How do we make a fire down here?” Lazuli asked.

  A voice came from the dark, “You’ll need wood.”

  They all froze. Pinocchio knew that voice. If he never heard it again, it would still be too soon. He drew his sword in a flash and aimed it at the airman.

  “Captain Toro,” he said. “How did you get here?”

  Illuminated by Lazuli’s eyes, Captain Toro had his hands raised, showing that he was unarmed. Maybe he had lost his musket. He certainly had lost his helmet. His hair lay in wet ribbons across his shadowy face, although even the dim light didn’t mask his permanent scowl.

  “Same as you.”

  “Let’s ask that a different way,” Sop said, brandishing his sword. “Why did you come down or in or…wherever we are here?”

  “The same as you,” he replied. “To rescue my master.”

  “You’re insane,” Sop said. “Of course, since Pinocchio is the one who flew us in here, he’s equally insane. Why do I have to be surrounded by crazy humans?”

  Captain Toro stared at Pinocchio. “So you are Geppetto Gazza’s automa? When I saw you fly past, I thought for a moment it was you, but then…you’re not an automa anymore.”

  “No, I’m not,” Pinocchio said, without lowering his sword.

  “What do we do with him, Your Highness?” Sop said.

  Lazuli came forward, and Captain Toro’s surprised eyes grew even wider. “You! You’re the blue fairy who…I…”

  “Attempted to kill,” Lazuli said. “I’m afraid so. Now you should leave, Captain Toro.”

  Captain Toro peered out into the darkness, worry wrinkling his face. “Where?”

  “Anywhere but with us,” Sop said.

  “I can help you,” Captain Toro said, looking pleadingly to Pinocchio.

  “We don’t need your help,” he said.

  “You do,” Captain Toro said. “You need wood for the fire eater there. I’ve lost my musket, but look, I still have dry gunpowder.” He touched a canister on his belt. “Do you have another way to start a fire?”

  Pinocchio glanced around at the others. He knew they didn’t. Coming close to Lazuli, he whispered, “We’re not befriending him. We’re just calling a temporary truce until we can figure things out. Besides, the most important thing now is to help Cinnabar.”

  “Pinocchio’s right, Your Highness,” Mezmer said.

  Lazuli gave a reluctant nod.

  Pinocchio sheathed his sword. “Come on, Captain. You can help Lazuli and me look for wood.”

  Mezmer rose. “Your Highness, if you’re going, I should stay with you. I pledged my spear to protect you.”

  “I’ll take care of the princess, Mez,” Sop said. “I can see better than you in the dark.”

  “Thank you, Mezmer, but Sop’s right,” Lazuli said. “Watch over Cinnabar.”

  The fox nodded and knelt next to the unconscious djinni.

  Captain Toro lowered his hands and began to follow. “I don’t have a weapon. Do you think there’s anything to be concerned about out there?”

  “Besides a squadron of airmen and the doge of Venice?” Sop said. “But I guess you don’t have to worry about them.”

  Captain Toro still peered around with concern.

  “Afraid of the dark, Captain?” Lazuli said, leading the way.

  “Of course not.” But the airman stayed at the back.

  Walking was not easy over this slimy, uneven terrain. Lazuli’s eyes cast only so much light. Pinocchio slipped several times and kept banging his shins against barnacle-covered debris.

  “Fairy,” Captain Toro said. “Why do the others call you Your Highness?”

  Maestro fluttered uneasily on Pinocchio’s shoulder.

  “I am Princess Lazuli of Abaton, daughter of His Immortal Lordship, Prester John.”

  “Are you now?” Captain Toro said. “How did you get—”

  “Enough questions, airman,” Sop said. “Keep looking for wood.”

  They came across boards, clearly the broken wreckage from ships the Deep One had devoured. But the wood was so waterlogged, it was hopeless for burning.

  “We need to locate the fleet,” Captain Toro said. “Any ships that survived should be floating, which will keep them dry. We can use wood from the bunks.”

  Pinocchio looked into the cavernous black above him. “How are we supposed to find floating ships?”

  “You could fly up there, Captain Toro,” Lazuli suggested.

  The airman shook his head. “It’s too dark. I wouldn’t know what I was about to fly into.”

  “Like into the Deep One’s lower intestines,” Pinocchio said.

  Sop made a noise like he was about to lose what remained in his own lower intestines. The poor cat really wasn’t handling this very well.

  “The crew would stabilize the ship to keep it from drifting,” Captain Toro said. “We just need to find where they’ve dropped an anchor.”

  “Why didn’t you say so?” Sop said. “We just passed one.”

  “Where?”

  “Back here,” Sop said, leading them back. “At least I thought it was back here. I almost tripped on—” He fell over.

  Captain Toro ran toward him. Sop reached for the airman’s hand for help up, but Captain Toro grabbed the anchor instead. “Fairy, bring your eyes closer.”

  The blue light of Lazuli’s gaze illuminated a chain rising up in the dark.

  “Hello!” Captain Toro called. “Anyone up there?”

  Nothing answered, except for a faint scuttling in the dark. Toro grabbed the chain and tugged. The chain gave a few feet. “Help me pull,” he said.

  They all took hold of the chain and, hand over hand, grunting with the effort, hauled down the doge’s ship until the hull reached Lazuli’s luminous gaze. Pinocchio’s heart raced with the hope that he was going to find Geppetto aboard.

  “Hook the chain onto the spire of the anchor,” Captain Toro grunted.

  They managed to attach the chain so that the ship floated just above their heads. Captain Toro threw out his wings and with a single swoop flew onto the deck. Lazuli scampered up the chain effortlessly. Pinocchio and Sop managed to climb up, but not nearly as easily as the other two.

  When Pinocchio was over the rail, Lazuli said, “It’s abandoned.”

  Pinocchio frowned. “Where did they all go?”

  Captain Toro emerged from below deck. “It’s only been a few days. They had barrels of gunpowder, caskets of water, tons of food stores, but now everything’s gone. Even the bunks are missing. Entire bunks. There’s no way they could have carried all that. And why would they even leave the ship?”

  “To search for a way out of the Deep One?” Pinocchio mused.

  Captain Toro shook his head. “The doge might send out a patrol. But he’d never leave his ship.”

  “Unless they were in some sort of danger,” Lazuli said.

  “From what?” Maestro peeped.


  The faintest scattering of movement sounded from out in the dark. Pinocchio gripped his sword tighter.

  “What was that?”

  “Someone looted the ship,” Captain Toro suggested. “Maybe it’s them?”

  Lazuli leaned over the railing. The light from her eyes didn’t reach far and certainly didn’t illuminate anything lurking in the blackness that Pinocchio could see.

  “What’s down there, Sop?” she asked, a nervous edge to her voice.

  “I can’t tell,” Sop said. “It’s all black—No! Eyes. I see eyes!”

  Captain Toro barked, “Give me a weapon.”

  “You should do a better job keeping up with your stuff, Captain,” Sop said, giving Toro a shove. “Come on. Let’s pry up some boards and get them back to Cinnabar.”

  “I said you could use the bunks,” Toro said. “I won’t have you tearing apart the doge’s ship!”

  “The bunks are gone,” Pinocchio said. “We need wood.”

  Sop gave his sword a playful twirl. “If you want our protection, you’ll help us out. You scratch my back or I’ll scratch yours.”

  “Besides,” Pinocchio added, “the doge abandoned the ship. It’s not doing him a lot of good down here anyway. A few timbers are all we need.”

  Toro grumbled but helped them pry up a section of the decking.

  As they climbed down from the ship and set off back to Cinnabar, Pinocchio thought he saw eyes blinking out at him. They were faint and disappeared quickly, but he grew certain he was not imagining them. “Whatever is out there,” he whispered, “seems to be following us.”

  “I wish they’d quit skulking and show themselves,” Sop said.

  “Be careful what you wish for,” Captain Toro said. “There’s no telling what they are. Or what they eat. Anything that lives down here can’t be too picky about its meals.”

  “I bet they’d have no qualms about eating crickets,” Maestro whimpered.

  “Cricket eaters are the least of my worries,” Captain Toro said.

  Pinocchio heard whispers of movement, something slipping easily across the soggy patches of algae. He picked up his pace. When they reached Mezmer crouching over Cinnabar, he said, “We’re not alone.”

  “I know,” Mezmer said. “Any idea what they are?”

  “No,” Lazuli answered. “But hopefully a good fire will keep them at bay.”

  They stacked the wood in a pyre and placed Cinnabar on top. Captain Toro opened a sachet of gunpowder and poured a line around the boards. From his belt he removed a flint striker; then he looked at the others and said, “Ready?”

  Mezmer nodded. “Light it.”

  Captain Toro snapped the flint striker, scattering sparks across the powder. With a startling brightness, the gunpowder ignited. Pinocchio had to cover his eyes, but by the time they adjusted, the boards had caught fire and Cinnabar was engulfed in smoke and dancing tongues of flame.

  Pinocchio sighed. He was going to be one angry djinni when he woke.

  A low groan echoed and the ground shuddered.

  “What was that?” Maestro chirped.

  Sop fanned his hands at the flames. “Hurry and wake up, you stupid djinni, before the Deep One gets indigestion!”

  Faint flickers of movement appeared in the dark, accompanied by little shrieks of distress. Whatever was lurking out beyond the perimeter of the fire’s light seemed upset.

  Captain Toro chuckled. “That’ll send them scurrying back to their holes.” He cupped a hand to his mouth and shouted, “This is called fire, you beasties! We only mastered it millennia ago.”

  A dark clod splattered against Captain Toro’s face.

  Sop laughed. “I guess they’ve mastered flinging slime.”

  Captain Toro gave a disgusted groan as he scraped the tangled seaweed and muck from his face. “Give me your sword. I’ll find the creepy that threw that!”

  Already more clods were raining down on them. Pinocchio turned his back to the incoming missiles. “What are they doing? These don’t even hurt.”

  “Annoying us into surrender?” Sop guessed. Dripping seaweed covered his arms as he tried to shield himself.

  “They’re putting out the fire!” Mezmer cried.

  She was right. Hissing cakes of muck were already half covering Cinnabar. The fire was dying. Plumes of smoke filled the air.

  “Protect him!” Lazuli shouted.

  The back of Pinocchio’s chameleon cloak was already so covered that he felt like a knight half dressed in a slimy suit of muck armor. But try as they might, the five of them couldn’t shield Cinnabar from the filthy volley coming from all sides.

  “How many of them are there?” Pinocchio said.

  “I think we’re about to find out,” Captain Toro growled.

  The fire sputtered out. In the light of the dying embers, shadowy figures closed in on all sides.

  Through the smoke, Pinocchio couldn’t yet make out what the creatures looked like, but some carried crude spears. Mezmer directed her troop into positions surrounding Cinnabar, their scanty weapons outstretched. But they were completely surrounded and hopelessly outnumbered.

  “Hold steady, darlings,” Mezmer growled, her spear raised.

  As the mob of creatures crept closer, one by one, dim green lights began to glow from their heads. What at first sounded like monstrous mutterings seemed to form words.

  “What are they saying?” Pinocchio asked.

  Captain Toro shook his head. “Gibberish. They’re just beasts.”

  “No, I hear them too,” Lazuli said. “It’s sounds like they’re saying, ‘Mother.’”

  At that moment, the nearest creatures came into view. They weren’t human, but they were humanoid in shape, and covered in barnacles, crustaceans, and seaweed. The green lights were shining from open shells atop their heads.

  “Mother,” they said. “Mother.”

  Sop shook his sword at them. “We’re not your mommies, barnacle faces!”

  “No fire,” they murmured. “Mother hates fire. No fire.”

  Pinocchio noticed that the Deep One had become still again. “Mother must be—” he began, but his wrists were suddenly locked in a strong grasp. It wasn’t by one of the creatures. It was Captain Toro.

  The airman snatched the sword from Pinocchio’s hand and charged toward the nearest of the creatures. Pinocchio could barely tell what happened next. The captain threw out his wings, scattering smoke and bits of muck. And then he had one of the barnacle creatures by the tangle of seaweed attached to the creature’s head.

  He held out his sword and shouted, “Get back, you savages! Get back or I’ll kill him.”

  The little creature in his grasp squealed, wriggling to get free. The others of its kind broke into terrible cries, scurrying around in such a dark mass that Pinocchio knew there must be many more then he had imagined before.

  “Back!” Captain Toro shouted.

  They didn’t flee. In fact, more of the lights appeared, shining unexpectedly bright in their faces. A mass of spears took aim at Captain Toro. “No! Free her! Let her go!” the creatures squeaked.

  “I’ll kill your companion if you don’t get back,” the captain warned.

  Pinocchio rushed forward. “What are you doing, Toro?”

  “Saving our hides,” he snarled.

  “You’re scaring her.”

  “Who?” Captain Toro said.

  “Her,” Pinocchio said, gesturing to the creature in his grasp. “They’ve done us no harm.”

  “Are you insane, Pinocchio?” Sop called. “Have you not seen the horde of things surrounding us? Not to mention all the spears pointing at you.”

  “They attacked first,” Captain Toro said.

  The little creature in Captain Toro’s grasp kicked helplessly. “We didn’t harm you. Just protecting Mother. Mother doesn’t like fire. Fire hurts Mother.”

  In the dim light, Pinocchio could see the little creature’s blinking black eyes peering out from a gap in the barn
acles encasing her face. There was a bright intelligence in her eyes—kindness, even.

  “See,” Pinocchio said. “They were just trying to put out the fire. If they had wanted to harm us, they would have. They have weapons. And sufficient numbers.”

  “Let Gragl go!” the creatures squealed at Captain Toro.

  The Captain snarled at Pinocchio. “How can you trust these things? Just look at them. As soon as I let her go, they’ll kill us.”

  “No we won’t,” Gragl said, wriggling in Toro’s grasp.

  Lazuli drew her sword and aimed it at Captain Toro. “Pinocchio’s right. You heard her, Captain Toro. Let her go.”

  Mezmer came on the other side of Captain Toro and leveled her spear at him.

  Captain Toro spat angrily at Mezmer and Lazuli. Then he lowered his sword and released the creature. When she scuttled off, others of her kind rushed forward to surround her.

  Gragl flipped open a clamshell attached to her forehead. Inside was a little luminescent mussel. Not much light on its own. But combined with the hundreds of other glowing mussels on the foreheads of the rest of the barnacle people, the light was plenty.

  Gragl glared up at Captain Toro. “Your sword could have done nothing to me anyway.”

  She tapped her knuckles against the side of her face and then against her shoulder. It gave the dry sound of stones crunching against stones, shells rubbing against shells.

  Pinocchio grinned as he snatched his sword back from Captain Toro. These barnacle people had natural armor in addition to their built-in lanterns. Fascinating.

  “So if your new friends are so harmless, what happened to everyone from the doge’s ship?” Captain Toro growled. “The ship was looted. Everyone aboard is gone without a trace. See if your little clam-faced friends can explain what they did to them.”

  Captain Toro might have been a brute, but he did have a point. Pinocchio turned to the barnacle people. “Where’s my father? Where is Prester John?”

  The barnacle people broke into whispered mutterings.

  Pinocchio exchanged a concerned look with the others before saying again, “We’re looking for—”

  Gragl looked up at Pinocchio with unmistakable amazement sparkling in her eyes. “Your father is His Immortal Lordship?” The other creatures fell into expectant silence.