Uncanny Tales of Crush and Pound 9
Page 2
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Argentine, the prince of the enslaved peoples of the mountain, ascended the secret passageway that lay concealed in his private chambers. In his arms he held the baby of stone that the slaves had excavated from the interior of the mountain. Though it was solid stone, the statue seemed to have no real mass and was as light as a child of men. The prince stopped to cradle it in his arms and admire the contentment that its face held as it lay in his arms. He leaned his head forward, and his antennae sensed a life force contained within the stone idol. “It is mine at last,” he said to himself as he climbed the many thousands of steps to the heights of the mountain. “A shame it will be that I should hand you over to my Queenmother,” he whispered as he hugged the child to his chest and paced up the secret passageway to his mother’s realm. If his mother rejected the child of stone, then he would gladly keep it for his own in his collection of treasure, though he knew that she would never reject the Soul of the Mountain.
The stairs spiraled into a tiny opening in the ceiling above, and Argentine rose through the entryway to stand on the cold, dark floor of the Queenmother’s den. There was a torchlight on the wall, and Argentine was satisfied to see that his mother’s quarters were as soft as ever in the pale light.
“My son. You have been gone for so long. Why is it that you have come? Is your task complete?” she asked from her bed in the dark. Argentine swallowed a mouthful of fear as he heard the questions announced from her wicked voice, but he could not see his mother’s face in the dark. Reluctantly he held his charge aloft for her inspection, and she susurrated to herself as her many legs began to twitch upon her bed. Then he could see her body move closer to him in the dark as he heard the rustle of her feet across the tiled floor of the cave. Her head appeared out of the gloom, and the Queenmother was gloriously frightening as her son beheld her. He had been a pupa when last they met, and she had conveyed her orders to him by antennae in the same way that her feelers now probed the baby of stone. She could sense the life force incarnate within the rough exterior of the carven stone, and she drooled her delight as she salivated the finding of the artifact.
“You have done well, my child,” she driveled through her insect mouth, and Argentine’s legs trembled with fear as he stood below her mighty form. Through his fear he managed a smile at her praise before she carried the idol away into the dark. “I am hungry, and I must gather my strength. Why do you stand there and wait while I crave a feast?” her voice echoed to him, and the prince fled down the steps as he sensed her displeasure at his sluggishness. He had missed seeing his mother over the years, but when she was hungry, she was insatiable. And even a prince was fair game to one so mighty.