Firestone Key

by Caroline Noe

  Elaine cringed, her arms tightening around Harlin as an involuntary reflex against distress. His undamaged left hand covered hers in silent comfort. When the squealing continued, to the counterpoint of vicious laughter, Elaine hid her face on Harlin’s shoulder. She was left with no illusions as to what might happen to her, were she to be captured.

  A savage spear thrust finally put an end to the poor animal’s suffering. The soldiers passed by - the carcass of the hog slung over one soldier’s shoulder - without ever knowing how close they had come to the most valuable catch of all.

  “Shame not him,” a soldier commented. “Make goodly feast though.”

  Drevel lingered for a while, making sure that the men had gone, and then popped his head around the side of the boulder, making Elaine and Harlin jump. They didn’t, however, immediately disengage from their awkward embrace.

  “They really made it suffer,” Elaine mumbled, shuddering.

  “Not looking for us,” Harlin told her. “Be hunting Adam. Nobone finding him since Harpy changed him.”

  “They think they’re torturing a man?” Elaine replied. “What did this Adam do to merit that?”

  Harlin struggled to rise from their hiding place, forcing her arms to release him.

  “Not feel sadly for him. Adam to thank for this,” he snapped, gesturing at the terrible damage to his face. “He caused me father’s death.”

  Elaine noticed how his voice had only wavered when he mentioned the loss of his father. “I thought Harpy murdered your father,” she remarked. He peered at her with surprise. “Gwyneth told me.”

  “Truly, but she been in league with Adam. Betrayed us all, and him. She live only for Firestone...” Harlin faltered, finding the memory distressing.

  There was a rustle and a gentle crunch; Drevel dropping more firewood on the small pile.

  “I get the hint,” Elaine told him.

  She awoke, just after dawn, lying next to the remains of a burnt out fire with Harlin’s jacket covering her. Flipping over, she scanned the makeshift camp for her friends, but appeared to be alone. Sitting upright, she glanced up the sloping hill. Harlin stood, silhouetted against the rising sun. The golden light and his sideways posture hid his deformity, making him appear beautiful. As though sensing her gaze, he turned and the illusion vanished. She jumped to her feet and stretched stiff muscles, but the early morning chill made her shiver.

  “Morning,” Harlin said, making his way downhill towards her. “Moving soon. Ye be getting cold. Drevel looking ahead.”

  She handed back his jacket, stamping on the rocks and mud to get her limbs moving. “Do you know this Cave of Fear?” she asked, feeling a little more apprehensive, now that they were a day closer.

  “No,” he admitted, “but seen Heart Waterfall when childlin. Beautily.”

  “So we don’t know what to expect?”

  “Never know that, Elaine.”

  She suddenly felt a little flushed and tongue-tied. She couldn’t remember him ever saying her name in such a way before. She stared at her feet, the trees, the rocks, the rising sun and, finally, at his eyes, where her gaze remained, locked into his.

  The rustling return of Drevel broke the spell with a woof and a fart.

  * * *

  Somewhat miffed at the ridicule he had endured due to his, he believed, quite sensible idea regarding Baal, Myrrdinus spoke to neither of his companions throughout the following day. When they reached unfamiliar territory, he was finally forced to respond to Gwyneth’s incessant pleas for forgiveness.

  “Myrrdinus. Please,” she whined. “Be very sorry laughed at yer dumbwit idea. Pleeeeeease, Myrrdinus, talk to me or I be singing.” To illustrate her threat, she began warbling, “Oh, be a beautily day on…”

  “Nough!” he ordered, raising his palm in front of her face. His gaze, however, was fixed on the branches of a nearby tree. “Listen.”

  Deciding to indulge him, she listened. “Hear nought.”

  “Not that strangely?” he pointed out. “No birds. Nought.”

  Both Gwyneth and Frog listened more intently. There was no sound, not a chirp, rustle or squeak of any nature, just silence.

  “No animals,” Gwyneth stated, a cold shiver passing down her spine. “Snake?”

  “Rivet,” agreed Frog, sidling along Myrrdinus’s shoulder and trying to tuck herself under his chin.

  “Think we getting close to well?” Gwyneth whispered.

  “Stay close to me,” Myrrdinus told her, extricating the trembling frog from his neck and placing her further along his shoulder, “and not talking.”

  “Aye, horma legs,” Gwyneth joked, trying to ease the tension and bolster her own courage. “Love when ye master…”

  “Gwyneth. Not joking. Not here.”

  “Rightly,” she agreed, stationing herself directly behind him.

  As they crept onwards, the forest around them grew darker. Thick, twisted branches coiled and grasped at nearby bark, forming macabre sculptures and blocking out what little light the day had to offer. Winding through the rugged branches lay a smooth pathway, carved into the wood by the constant rubbing of a gigantic beast.

  Gwyneth slid her hand along the smooth bark. Her palm came back covered in a thin film of scales which she wiped on foliage, with a shudder. Something dropped from above, touching Myrrdinus’s face. As he leapt to one side, grasping for his sword, Gwyneth and Frog stifled screams.

  “Not doing that,” Gwyneth scolded, her heart pounding. “Be scared nough…” Her voice faded away when she spied what man and frog were staring at.

  Hanging from a twisted branch, thicker than the arms of ten such men as Myrrdinus, was the recently shed skin of a monstrous snake. It gently swung in the slight breeze, a glistening omen of their probable doom.

  “There be one snake?” Myrrdinus asked the mesmerised Frog.

  Her mouth opened and formed a ‘rivet’, but no sound emerged.

  “Be gungus,” Gwyneth whispered, utterly terrified.

  * * *

  Drevel pounded up the hill, ahead of the climbing Elaine and Harlin. They had spent the entire morning traversing the steep, rocky slope. Elaine was struggling, but Harlin could barely walk.

  “Maybe we should have taken the Well of Snake,” Elaine panted, her lungs and heart screaming for mercy. “Drevel, we’re stopping. Just for a bit.”

  Drevel barked and headed to the top of the hill for reconnaissance while his two bent over charges caught their breath.

  “Hate snakes,” Harlin told Elaine. She was surprised that he could even speak. “Had nasty meeting with one when childlin. Rather drown in waterfall.”

  “Can’t you swim?” Elaine asked, tongue firmly in cheek.

  “Aye, able swim. Was joking,” Harlin replied, with a sigh of the perpetually misunderstood.

  “So was I, Twassock,” she laughed. “Sounds like you had an eventful childhood. Wrestling snakes, upsetting Bert...”

  “Not wrestling, running. As for Bert, losed his best friend and leg ‘cause of me, so not his fault not trusting. Ye ever let friends down?”

  “Only had two friends. I hope not. Disappointed one,” Elaine admitted, thinking of Neil.

  “Oh?” Harlin prompted, gratified that she had actually ventured something about herself.

  “He wanted me. I wanted someone else, who wanted my best friend.”

  “Yer life be complicated as mine,” Harlin told her, with a smile.

  A loud bark announced the arrival of Drevel at the top of the hill.

  “Are we there?” Elaine called to the triumphant canine and received an ear-splitting howl in response. “That a yes?”

  Bark.

  Elaine eventually arrived at Drevel’s shoulder and surveyed the view. She was still holding her dropped jaw when Harlin dragged himself the last few steps and joined them. Forgetting his pain and leaving his past behind him for a few precious moments, Harlin gazed down on a memory of paradise and smiled.

  Level with the awestruck
trio stood a cliff, its face sharp and smooth as though cut by a mighty sword slash. Rainwater flowed down from the hills, meeting the river and thundering over the edge, pouring onto the rocks, below, in a magnificent cascade. A sparkling curtain of silver-grey ivy clung to the rocks on both sides of the waterfall, whilst overhanging branches and foliage formed an avenue fit for the heavens. The roar of the mighty waterfall was deafening.

  “As I remembered,” Harlin shouted to his companions.

  “Where’s the cave?” Elaine hollered back, ever the pragmatist.

  “Must be hidden. Never seen when come before,” Harlin admitted, scanning the area. “Behind waterfall, maybes?”

  Elaine followed Harlin’s gaze down the towering cliff to the river, at its base. “All the way down there?” Concern for him was written all over her face.

  “Be fine,” Harlin insisted, starting down the slope. “Worry for self.”

  Sighing, Elaine and Drevel followed him, wherever he was leading.

  * * *

  Twisted branches had turned grey, resembling corpses in a state of agonised death and forming an omen for the already spooked Gwyneth. Myrrdinus was still forging into the gloom, with the trembling Frog clinging to his hair. He slowed as they closed in on their infamous destination. Peering around his bulk, Gwyneth spotted the dead clearing and, beyond it, the Well of Snake.

  Fired mud bricks lined the sides of a huge well that seemingly merged into the solid rock, below. A thick layer of white powder surrounded the well and coated the entire area, releasing ghostly puffs into the gusting wind.

  Myrrdinus kept his eyes on the well as he half turned to speak to Gwyneth. “Thinking ye be staying here with Frog.

  “No!” Gwyneth exclaimed, a little too loudly for comfort.

  “SSShhhh.”

  Three pairs of eyes frantically scanned their surroundings for any sign of the skin’s former owner.

  “What if it be coming back and we lone?” Gwyneth whispered.

  Myrrdinus glanced at the stubborn Gwyneth and then at the nodding Frog.

  “Rightly, but ye run if needing, understand?”

  More nods.

  “Run and not look back,” he ordered, placing Frog on Gwyneth’s shoulder.

  Drawing his sword, Myrrdinus crept towards the well, his feet wading through the thick layer of white powder and filling the air with a cloud of dust. Fighting the desire to sneeze, he peeped over the edge of the brick rim and down into the darkness, below. The constant arrival and departure of the snake had worn the once rough walls to a smooth grey. He was unable to see beyond, to the bottom.

  A movement at his shoulder precipitated a swift swipe of his sword. Fortunately, he avoided slicing the offender in two. Gwyneth peered into the well.

  “Be in there?” she whispered.

  “How I know?” Myrrdinus snarled back, wondering whether he would be justified in offering her up as lunch to the reptile.

  “Only asking,” Gwyneth told him whilst peering down at her feet, which were covered in the white powder. A little puff of dust rose into the air, entering sensitive nostrils. Her eyes closed and mouth opened, heralding the sneeze.

  Frog took a flying leap onto the well when Myrrdinus threw Gwyneth to the ground, covering her mouth and nose with his hand. The muffled sneeze that she emitted was almost as disgusting as the substance he had to wipe from his hand, but at least it was quiet.

  “What be this?” she asked, her clothes now covered in the strange powder.

  “Rivet,” squeaked the frog, to get their attention. She mimed the crunching of bones and excreting of waste, a performance equally as revolting as Gwyneth’s sneeze. Understanding the frog’s intent, both man and woman quickly got to their feet, trying to dust off the offending waste without causing another surge.

  “Be going down to look,” Myrrdinus told his partners, taking a tightly coiled rope from his pack and firmly tying one end to a tree.

  “Going with ye,” Gwyneth stated.

  “No.”

  “Ye not going lone.”

  “Be not going meself and lowering ye down. Ye be too portly for climbing. If snake there, how ye get yeself back up?”

  Gwyneth saw his point, but was insulted, nonetheless. Wading back through the powder, she plonked herself down on a nearby boulder to sulk. Frog exercised discretion and stayed where she was, watching as Myrrdinus lowered himself into the gloom, muscles rippling impressively. For once, Gwyneth was paying them no attention.

  * * *

  Drevel carefully picked his way over slippery rocks, heading for the thundering waterfall. Elaine and Harlin followed in his paw prints. It had been an excruciatingly slow and painful climb down to the level of the river, with pride preventing Harlin from making a single sign of distress. Just when they thought things couldn’t get any worse, the trio had to face the slipping, sliding hazard of water and moss covered rocks. Because of his handicap, Harlin found that maintaining his balance was a challenge in itself.

  “Be not catching me, if I go down,” he warned the hovering Elaine. “Be hurting yeself.”

  Drevel turned to look at them, barked once and inserted his nose into the waterfall. His head and body soon followed, leaving just his tail poking out, and then it was gone.

  “Where did he…?”

  Elaine’s question was abruptly curtailed when her left foot slipped off a particularly smooth rock. Harlin attempted to arrest her descent, but was only able to catch hold of her arm. Her momentum caused her to swing in a wide arc, straight through the waterfall. She landed on her bottom on the other side of the curtain of water, drenched, but unhurt.

  “Elaine?” floated Harlin’s voice from the other side.

  “You did that on purpose!” she shouted back.

  Harlin smiled at her response and proceeded to limp around the mighty waters. His arrival at his destination, in relative dryness, was met by a sodden couple with arms or paws crossed in mock annoyance. Drevel was already beginning to emit a rather pungent odour.

  “Be me fault if I cleverly?” Harlin remarked.

  “I’m soaked and Drevel smells,” Elaine moaned.

  Drevel peered up at her with a wounded expression that made her laugh.

  “Well you do. Doesn’t mean I don’t love you.”

  Drevel delivered a canine grin, never realising that he had been the recipient of Elaine’s first ever declaration of love. The woman, herself, felt surprisingly unfazed by the occurrence; perhaps it was easier when your feelings were expressed for a dog and not a man.

  “We’ve used the lengthy time we’ve been here, dripping, waiting for you, to look for a cave,” Elaine told Harlin. “Down there, I think.” She pointed at the cavern floor where it sloped down towards a fissure in the rock, forming a narrow tunnel. “Shall we? At last.”

  Turning sideways, the trio squeezed through the tunnel in single file.

  * * *

  Myrrdinus had reached the bottom of the well before it dawned on him that he had no means to illuminate the surrounding darkness. Pilt, he thought, being forced to spend the most frightening moments of his young life waiting for his eyes to adjust to the gloom. He fervently prayed that the elusive predator would not see him first. After what seemed an eternity, Myrrdinus gradually began to perceive the surroundings into which he had lowered himself:

  The bed of the well was dry rock, worn smooth by the scales of the snake. Surveying the area, he could neither see a sign of the reptile nor an exit. He appeared to be standing in a circular chamber, its walls covered in a glorious, multicoloured, layered mosaic. He ran his fingers over the extraordinary ornamentation, only to find that it was warm. The ‘wall’ suddenly began to slide sideways, its decoration pulsating beneath his hand.

  Uncoiling from its interrupted slumber, the snake’s giant head swung round to take a look at the offending trespasser. Eye to eye with his worst nightmare, Myrrdinus followed the only course of action open to him, he ran for his life. Hastily climbing back up the rope
using only his arm muscles to propel himself, Myrrdinus emerged from the well, barely a fang’s distance ahead of his pursuer.

  Gwyneth and Frog had been sitting in total silence, choosing to ignore one another, when Myrrdinus shot forth from the well as though fired from a cannon. He was closely followed by an enormous, slavering snake, whose fangs were poised to lock onto its unfortunate prey. Gwyneth bounced to her feet with a jolt, whilst Frog dived headfirst into the powder to avoid being a hors d’oeuvre.

  Myrrdinus raced in the opposite direction, trying to draw the reptile away from a stunned Gwyneth. The snake manoeuvred its entire body free of the well and reared up to strike at the hapless Myrrdinus. With the sound of Gwyneth’s screams reverberating in his ears, he flung himself to one side at the very last moment. Although clear of its fangs, Myrrdinus found himself sucked into the beast’s cavernous mouth and in imminent danger of being swallowed alive. He jammed his arms and legs against the sides of its mouth, yelling, “Stay back!” to an approaching Gwyneth. Grasping his sword, Myrrdinus repeatedly stabbed at the snake’s mouth, but was successful only in being showered with stinking pus.

  Having wiped white powder out of her bulbous eyes, Frog could see that Myrrdinus was in a fatal predicament and needed immediate help. Bravely bouncing her way up the length of the snake, from tail to head, she gathered all her strength and let fly with a huge hop, straight into the reptile’s left eye. Shocked at the sudden sting, the snake let go of its human prey, who promptly fell to the ground with a sickening thud. When the snake shook its head to dispel streaming tears, its movement threw Frog into the air, her legs pedalling as though trying to ride an invisible bicycle. Her downward flight was arrested by Myrrdinus’s one handed catch.

  The now livid snake, one eye closed, lined up its next attack and, this time, both man and frog were completely exposed. Grasping one of Myrrdinus’s fingers and hugging it to her, Frog closed both eyes and prepared to meet her doom at the fangs of the slithery reptile.

  An ear-piercing whistle froze the three combatants. Three heads: man, frog and snake, turned towards the source of the sound to see a madly gesticulating Gwyneth. To Myrrdinus’s horror, the little woman was darting to and fro, directly in the snake’s one-eyed line of vision, desperately trying to draw its attention away from its quarry. She succeeded. Deciding that, although smaller, the woman constituted a juicier morsel, the snake slithered in her direction.