Taylor Davis: Flame of Findul Episode One (Serial Adventures, 1.1)
Page 4
Lesson #3
Cobras Are Not Lapdogs
“I really, really need a sandwich,” I managed.
“I know where to find a cheeseburger,” Elena offered.
“You’re not helping.”
Davy led us to a low opening in the rock face not far from the tree. It broadened into a spacious living area. The floor was covered with plush carpeting and scattered with overstuffed chairs. A tousled pullout couch took up one corner; another held a table and two chairs. The apartment also had a refrigerator, a stove, a sink, and electric lighting. Best of all, a widescreen plasma television stretched across most of one wall.
“Dude! This is where you live?” I blurted. Not bad for a four-hundred-year-old bachelor.
“Help yourself to whatever you find in the galley,” Davy grunted.
He didn’t have to tell me twice. I dug through several plastic tubs of leftovers—a leafy salad, fried potatoes, and some really bad-smelling fish—before deciding on a container of Kung Pao chicken. I didn’t know where he had found Chinese take-out, and I didn’t care. It was a delicacy I hadn’t tasted since leaving Jersey. And it would wash down really nicely with one of those bottles of Sierra Mist.
Elena wrapped half the salad in a tortilla. “So, Davy, what do you do here all day?” she asked with bored resignation.
“I guard the tree.” He indicated a wall of surveillance screens picturing live images of the giant from all angles.
“That’s all?”
“Oh, I do a little gardening, some crocheting, a bit of scrapbooking.” He grinned. “I also get 538 channels.”
“Impressive,” she replied with an exaggerated yawn.
During their brief exchange, I managed to polish off the entire box of chicken, another of fried rice, and three shrimp eggrolls. Feeling much better, I settled into a leather recliner and broached the subject at hand. “So, Mr. Jones, you were saying something about a heinous enemy who’s seeking to end all life on Earth in a hail of fire and destruction.”
The old pirate’s face grew grave. “Aye. There is one who would scuttle the ship and take every last human down with it. He must be stopped. And you are the one who must do it.”
“Why me?” I asked, more curious now than frightened. I had eaten some food, regained some perspective, and figured Elena’s skepticism was well founded.
“You are the One of Two Names.”
“I’m nobody,” I argued.
“You’ve been chosen.”
“I can’t even walk through the school cafeteria without falling through the floor.”
“You were meant to fall through the floor.”
“I get C’s in school, I suck at sports, and I knocked my own tooth out on a water fountain when I was eight.” I wasn’t trying to be annoying; I was merely pointing out the facts that could win me a “least likely to succeed” nomination. But patience wasn’t one of Davy’s virtues.
“Listen here, you lubber!” he growled, brandishing his sword. “This wasn’t me idea. You were born with a purpose. Your parents were meant to meet and marry. Your father was meant to take this new job. And you were meant to parlay with me today.”
I sighed. There was no arguing with this guy. “All right. What if I fail?”
“That is not your concern. What is meant to be will be regardless of your success or failure. You can bet your fortune on it. But there’s comfort in knowing you’re part of Plan A.”
“Very inspirational,” Elena broke in with biting sarcasm. “Have you ever considered a career as a motivational speaker?”
The glare Davy shot her could have started a fire.
Since I wasn’t going anywhere, I figured I’d hear him out. “Okay, tell me about my enemy.”
Davy settled himself in a chair across from me. “In life, he was me shipmate. Me second-in-command, Bartholomew Swain.”
“You want me to fight another pirate?”
“Once he was a pirate. He has become something far worse.”
“Super,” I drawled.
“Bart was a ruthless fighter, a merciless killer. That’s why I took him aboard. He helped me win many prizes on the open sea. I shudder to think I could have become what he is. I would have, but for a trick of fate.”
“A trick of fate?” I asked. “What does that mean?”
“It means I got to this island ahead of him. I came ashore first.”
“So he’s been here, too.”
“Aye. During the storm, he was entangled in the same debris. I thought he was food for the sharks, but there was still life in him. Unbeknownst to me, he followed me up the valley where he overheard me argument with the guardian of the tree. He learned what happened. He heard the consequences, and he desired eternal life for himself.”
“He ate from the tree, too? I have an adversary who can’t die?”
“Aye. Though I tried to stop him, he managed to snatch a wilted, wormy fruit that had fallen to the valley floor. He ate it. It had not the potency of one freshly picked, but it gave to him a diminished life, a half-life. He became a shadow, neither dead nor alive.”
“An undead adversary.” I nodded. “Even better.”
I heard Elena blow out her breath in exasperation. “Sounds like a jolly sort. I can’t wait to meet him. You’ll get me a date, won’t you, Davis?”
Davy kept his eyes locked on me. “You don’t yet know the full extent of your enemy. He’s been to Hades where he met one older and darker than himself. Great authority has been given him to recruit among the living and the dead. And an unquenchable thirst for power has been implanted within him. He seeks control, death, domination. He will stop at nothing.”
“So what exactly am I supposed to do with a guy like that?” I asked. “Give him a phone call? Invite him snorkeling? Maybe stop up the snorkel with a bit of bubble gum?” I wasn’t usually so caustic. Perhaps Elena was rubbing off on me.
Davy frowned. “I don’t think either of you grasp the gravity of your situation.”
Elena finally had enough. “Let me tell you what I don’t grasp, Mr. Jones.” She counted off on her fingers. “One, how did we end up in the cafeteria basement with a very creative drama department and an extremely talented special effects team? Two, where is the elevator back upstairs? And three, if Taylor’s opponent cannot die, how on earth could you expect him to defeat him?”
Davy regarded us gravely. “Perhaps you need stronger proof that what I tell you is true.” Without any ceremony, he tossed the broadsword at our feet. It lengthened, thickened, and began to writhe. Stiff, shiny metal dulled into the undulating scales of an eight foot serpent.
Elena screamed and leaped over the back of her chair, but I was frozen where I sat. The creature had five heads. One was a fierce-eyed bird of prey. Another resembled a jackal. A third took on the features of an alley cat you’d never want to meet in an alley. The fourth held the beautiful face of a woman. And the fifth, the one that came sliding up my knee, had the flattened hood and unblinking eye of a cobra.
My first instinct was to run, but the snake’s eyes held me in place, piercing me with some powerful spell that I was completely incapable of breaking. The walls of my chest clung together like socks dried without fabric softener. I couldn’t draw breath. I was suffocating.
I was about to die.