Angus MacBain and the Island of Sleeping Kings

by Angela J. Townsend

  Fane paused before stepping around the dead insect. “Blue beetles are the ones to watch out for. They travel in packs and can devour a man in minutes.”

  A prickle of fear surged through Angus. He couldn’t help imagining how quickly they could chew up someone Vanora’s size. Shuddering, he rubbed his hand down the back of his neck.

  They groped their way through the dark corridor and down a set of never ending stone steps. Vanora grabbed Angus’ arm, making him jump. “Do you think there are mice down here?”

  “Mice? Who cares about mice? Didn’t you hear him about the beetles and horrible creatures hiding in the dark? What about that sea monster and giant spider?”

  Vanora cringed. “I know, but I just can’t stand rodents. I’ve had a phobia of them for years.”

  “I don’t believe it,” Angus said. “You’re actually afraid of something.”

  Vanora folded her arms. “I’m only human, just like you. What do you want… superwoman?”

  Angus patted her on the back and lowered his voice. “No, but super-exterminator would come in handy.”

  Vanora’s shoulders relaxed and she smiled. “We better catch up to Fane. I don’t want to try to find my way out of here alone.”

  Angus held out his torch and followed Fane with Vanora close behind. He felt an uncomfortable heat at the back of his hairline. He whirled around to see Vanora inches away, almost burning him with her torch. “Look, I know you’re scared but you can’t walk that close or you’re gonna fry me.”

  She glanced over her shoulder. “Sorry, it’s just that I feel like I’m being followed.”

  “Here, walk ahead of me.”

  Vanora slipped in front of him. “Thanks,” she said before hurrying to catch up with Fane. Angus paused, looking at the walls of the cavern. Distorted animals, spirals, symbols, and strange-looking beasts adorned the rocky surface. A shuffle sounded behind him.

  He whipped around and thrust the torch into the corridor, squinting to see into the dark. Nothing. He turned to hurry down the steps. Suddenly a musty smell, like old leaves, deep and stifling told him of another presence. A spine-chilling moan echoed behind him. Angus glanced over his shoulder and bolted down the winding steps until he almost collided with Fane and Vanora.

  Fane gripped his shoulders and shot a worried look behind Angus. “What is it?”

  “Something—er, was behind me, it smelled rotten. I ran.”

  “Rotten meat or rotten apples?”

  “What?”

  “Did it smell like rotten meat or rotten apples?”

  “I guess it was more like rotten apples or moldy leaves. I didn’t exactly stick around to sniff it.”

  Fane shrugged. “Well in that case, no worries. My best guess is that it’s Woodworm. He’s a harmless old ghost.”

  Angus snickered. “His name is Woodworm? How charming.”

  “Hush!” Fane gazed into the dark. “Watch what you say. He has emotional issues. We don’t want to send him off the deep end and into a crying jag. That’s why he’s here. At first one feels sorry for him, but his snuffling, moaning and carrying on, grates on a person. Like fingernails on a chalkboard. He does it on purpose to keep people away.”

  Vanora shivered. “I knew something was following us. Why is he so sad? Maybe we could help him.”

  “Actually, he’s quite content. It’s those around him that can’t tolerate him. He despises the living. He’ll chase you away if you show any fear. Best to ignore him and keep moving. He’s all show. Woodworm couldn’t possibly hurt anyone.” Fane lowered his voice to a whisper. “He’s just an old rattle bones. King MacBain invited him to live here to scare intruders off. ”

  Fane motioned for them to follow, his boots echoing down the dark stone steps. With each footstep Angus peered over his shoulder to make sure Woodworm wasn’t behind him, ready to wail and scare the crud out of him.

  At the bottom of the narrow steps, Fane paused. A round passageway stood in front of them. Angus raised his torch and peered inside. Jagged stalactites, like stone daggers, hung from the ceiling. Foul water dripped down their pointed blades into deep and scummy ponds. A narrow trail between the pools weaved through the tunnel and into the dark.

  Fane inhaled a steady breath. “Don’t let the placid waters fool you. Stay clear of them.” He ducked his head, hesitated, then crept inside with Vanora and Angus close behind.

  A putrid scent of decay seeped from the gloomy walls. Angus stumbled and stepped ankle deep into one of the pools. A scaly creature slithered around his foot. He jumped in a panic and ran forward. His foot landed in another frothy pool, this one deeper than the last. A slimy creature with giant suckers tried to stick to his ankle. Angus yelled and jerked his soggy foot back. Whatever gripped him almost ripped off his shoe.

  Fane rushed to his side. “Are you are all right?” Without waiting for an answer he grabbed Angus’ shoulder with his free hand. “I warned you to stay clear of the pools.” He raised his torch over the lurid waters. The flickering light revealed a huge snakelike creature undulating across the surface. The thing arched a crusty spine, leapt toward the light and plunged back into the inky depths again. Fane pulled Angus back. “Vile creatures live in these waters, dangerous nasty things. Stay clear, do you understand?”

  “No problem. I just want out of here. How much farther is Ceoban?”

  “Not far, maybe two more chambers. Now come. We must hurry.”

  They came to a massive stone door, braced on each side by two megalithic stones, their surfaces deeply etched with interlacing circles and symbols of a seal. In the center, under a layer of dust were letters or words shaped like thin willow sticks. Fane studied Angus.

  “What?” Angus asked. “Why are you staring at me?”

  Fane eyed him attentively. “Do you know what this says?”

  “Yeah. It says if you’re standing here in this creepy place and reading these words, you’re a nut case. How should I know what it says?”

  Vanora laughed, but Fane didn’t. His serious expression told Angus he wasn’t joking. The old man’s eyes pierced into his. “Because it’s written in your mother’s tongue.”

  Angus felt like someone had socked him in the chest. “My mother? My mother was killed in a boating accident years ago. What do you know about her?”

  He placed a gentle hand on Angus’ shoulder and his eyes softened. “Your mother,” Fane said in almost a whisper, “isn’t dead.”

  10

  “What do you mean my mother isn’t dead? You must be confused. She drowned when I was eight.”

  Fane tilted his head to one side, and stared intently into Angus’ eyes. “No, she did not die. She belongs to an ancient race of people, born from the sea. And it was the sea that saved her.”

  “You’re wrong. My mom was born in Ireland.”

  “No, Angus,” Fane said gently. “Your mother, Orla MacBain, is a Selkie. That’s how she survived.”

  Vanora gasped. “I knew Selkies were real!”

  “A Selkie?” Angus’ face flamed. “What’s a Selkie? Some kind of sea hag like Prudence?”

  Fane shook his head. “No, just the opposite. A Selkie is a sort of seal fairy that can transform into human form by shedding its skin. To revert back to a seal they simply don their seal coats. Selkies are some of the most beautiful creatures on earth. In the old days, when a fisherman took a Selkie as a wife, he would hide her skin so she couldn’t return to the sea, but somehow they always managed to find their skins and return to the ocean depths, leaving behind their children and family for their love of the ocean.”

  A lump formed in Angus’ throat. His mother was half seal? How could that be? She didn’t look like a seal. Or did she? He remembered her eyes, so dark they were almost obsidian. Round and haunting. Seal eyes. His pulse quickened. Could she really be alive?

  Fane smiled warmly, and gazed at Angus. “But this wasn’t the case with your mother. She knew where her seal skin was, but she never intended to return to her be
loved ocean home. Your mother sacrificed everything to remain with you and your father.”

  “What about my father? Did he survive?”

  Fane looked away. “No one knows. Your mother fled to Ceoban right after the accident. She had to get as far from you as possible. For your protection.”

  “My protection?”

  Fane nodded. “Oh yes, it was the Dacian knight’s power that sank the boat. Your parents were on their way to Ceoban to destroy him. Your grandfather tried to warn your father that it wasn’t the right time, that the Knight was more powerful than your father could ever imagine.” Fane lowered his voice. “Your father didn’t want you to have to deal with Dragomir when you grew up. He wanted to protect you so you would never have to do battle with him or his evil followers.”

  “So why didn’t my mother come back?”

  “Because the Dacian knight would’ve followed her, and killed you both.”

  “You told me he was in some sort of rocky prison. How could he follow anyone?”

  “Remember how I warned you before? Don’t ever underestimate those you are not familiar with. Do you recall on the plane, when I told you I was a vampire hunter?”

  “Yeah, you lied to me.”

  Fane shook his head. “I didn’t lie. Dragomir is a Vampire, the oldest of them all. A murderous servant of the Dacian kings of ancient Romania. He is a psychic vampire, feasting on fears and using his mind to inflict suffering. Dragomir takes all that is good and wilts it like the flowers of summers long past.”

  “Like Dracula, except smarter?”

  “Vlad Tepes, or Dracula as you call him, was just a man. In fact I knew him. Not a very likeable sort, cruel and insane, but legends of his vampirism were tales made up by men who feared him. Dragomir, unfortunately, is no mere mortal. He’s a dark enchanter, capable of great evil and centuries older than Count Dracula.”

  Anger swelled up from Angus’ chest, threatening to choke him with bitterness. “All this time, I thought my mother was dead. Now you’re telling me she’s alive?”

  Fane nodded.

  Angus turned the news over in his mind and the anger quickly left, replaced with a great leap of excitement. His mother was alive? Impossible as it seemed, Angus wanted this more than anything. He held his breath, afraid to even breathe, but then asked, “Is she still in Ceoban?”

  “I don’t know,” Fane said. “She’s in hiding, and I haven’t seen her for many moons. We’ll have to ask the sea that question. But for now we must make haste. We do not want to alert Dragomir that we are coming. We must take care. He has many friends in the vile maggot holes of these caves.”

  Fane placed his hand on the center of the door. He spread his fingers wide and brushed away the silt and dust. “Now read the sign and tell me what it says.”

  Angus stepped forward and studied the writing. He shook his head. “None of it makes any sense.”

  Fane gripped Angus’ shoulder. “Concentrate.”

  Angus stared at the letters. Some were fat and filled with moss while others were long and stick-like, chiseled deep into the belly of the stone door. Angus squinted and studied the strange drawings. Fane held the torch closer. As the light wavered over Angus’ shoulder, the etching transformed into letters and then into words.

  Angus read them aloud. “Hall of Dargis sealed by orders of Silktus, King of the Selkies. Beware to fools who enter her doors of doom, for only death awaits them.”

  Angus cut his eyes at Fane. “Let me guess. We’re going to be the first fools to enter this hall since it’s been sealed for a gazillion years, right?”

  “I’m afraid so. We have no choice.”

  “Great,” Angus turned away, wondering if there was a way to get out of this predicament without seeming like a chicken—but if there was a chance, a single chance, of seeing his mother again, he couldn’t waste it. If he didn’t get killed trying.

  A bulky brass lock, carved in the shape of a salmon, secured the door. Its oval eyes stared straight ahead, expressionless. Fane stepped forward and fingered the scales on the fish’s head. “Ah, the symbol of knowledge. The race of Selkies are among the wisest people in the universe. Now we must get this lock off and remove the chains as silently as we can. We must not alert those that dwell on the other side.” Fane scratched his long, white beard. “It may be impossible, but we must try.” He held out his hand, palm up. “Give me your book.”

  Angus tugged it from his pocket and handed it to him. Fane tucked the book under his arm and sat on a slimy rock. He reached into his vest pocket and retrieved his half moon spectacles. A frown creased his brow as he slipped them on, fitting them around his ears, and flipped the book open.

  Vanora came to Angus’ side, nudged him with her elbow, and whispered, “My dad would flip over the hieroglyphics in this place.” She pointed to the lock. “Just look at that fish, every scale looks real. How are we going to open it?”

  Angus’ pulse raced. He grabbed for the dragon medallion and inserted the tail. The lock clicked open. Without warning the chain clamored and the lock broke in half and started to fall.

  Fane jumped to his feet and lunged for the lock, but it slipped past the tips of his long fingers and shattered on the rocky floor. The chains slithered down the walls and clanked onto the floor. Thunderous vibrations echoed across the dark cavern.

  A heavy dragging sound came from behind the closed door. Fane’s eyes blazed like coals. “They’ve awakened!”

  “Who?” Angus asked.

  Fane ignored him, frantically trying to put the lock back on the doors.

  Vanora gave the old man a withering glare. “I demand to know what’s behind these doors.”

  Fane’s face paled. “Rats. Thousands of them.”

  “Rats?” Vanora grimaced. Her gaze faltered for the first time and Angus wondered if she was regretting becoming involved in his problems.

  “I hate rats,” Vanora said. “But let’s look on the bright side, they don’t like fire and we have our torches so it shouldn’t be a big deal unless they’re dripping from the ceiling.”

  “No!” Fane snapped, making Angus jump. “These are no ordinary rats. These are Dragomir’s children, brought with him from Romania. They stand on two legs and are cursed with an insatiable thirst for blood. Speed and slyness are their gifts. The dried husks of their prey are the only evidence you'll ever find of them. They attack and sneak away unnoticed. They’ve often been mistaken for cats in folklore. No matter how successful they are in finding human flesh, they are never satisfied. Their intense hunger is only matched by their need for cruelty.”

  Angus fought the urge to run. “Is this the only way?”

  “Yes, it’s the only passage into the other halls.” Fane inhaled a troubled breath and continued. “It’s important that you keep the rats at a distance. Even if you manage not to be eaten, their bodies teem with fleas and other vermin. They were the cause of the black plague in the dark times. They purposely passed their vermin on to regular rats who were aboard a cargo ship that docked at Staffa. In short, they are the ones responsible for millions of deaths.”

  Vanora’s eyes closed. Was she saying a prayer? Perhaps it was a good idea.

  Fane drew out a long piece of crisp white chalk from his vest pocket and snapped it in half. He handed a piece each to Angus and Vanora. “If, for some unfortunate reason, you are cornered, I want you to draw a cross on the stone floor and stand in the center. If you do this, they cannot harm you, like travelers attacked at crossroads; those that stay in the middle of the road come to no harm.” Fane shot a worried look at the door. He wet his lips with the tip of his tongue and continued, “Now that the door is unlocked, they can attack us at anytime. My guess is that they are listening to us and plotting. To our advantage, their sight has probably grown dim in this confinement, but nonetheless they naturally have a heightened sense of hearing and smell.” Fane grasped the iron door handle. “I’m going to hold them off the best I can.”

  As the old man’s
fingers began to turn it, Angus inhaled a deep breath. His heart ping-ponged. Would the things spring out and attack? Or would they wait, hiding in the dark until just the right moment to rip them apart? Angus adjusted his backpack and steadied his feet on the rough floor. Fane heaved open the limestone door. Stone ground against stone, putrid air trapped for centuries escaped with a violent gust.

  A spark of nervous energy sizzled down Angus’ spine. Should he grab Vanora and bolt? They could make a run for it, escape for good. But how would he ever find out if his mother was alive for sure? His grandfather’s voice boomed in his head. “You’ve got to be brave, laddie. There are things you must do, things that…”

  Angus’ back stiffened as Fane stepped inside. Vanora gripped his arm. Her eyelid twitched. “Are you going…in there?”

  “I have to. I have to know if my mother is alive. I’m sorry you got dragged into this.”

  Vanora shrugged. “Maybe I’ll find some great discovery for my dad. He’s been made fun of for so many years.” Her lower lip trembled. “If we survive, maybe I can bring him back a rare fossil or something.”

  Angus set his jaw and squeezed Vanora’s forearm. “Don’t get all soggy on me now. We’ll make it. We’ve come this far. It can’t be much farther.”

  Vanora pursed her lips. “I’m not going to cry. It’s just that I’m petrified of rats.” She shivered, wrapped her arms around herself, and nodded at the dark entrance. “And I hate the thought of going in there.”

  Angus placed a large hand on her shoulder. “Just stay close and try not to worry. I’ll protect you.”

  Vanora gave him a weak smile that somehow made him feel strong. He liked being her protector, even if he really wasn’t as brave as he put on.

  They held their torches high and crept into the dark chamber. Angus gagged at the foul smell. Vanora pulled the neck of her T-shirt over her nose.

  Angus’ throat constricted then relaxed. The chamber appeared empty. Where had the rats gone? Probably hiding, waiting till their victims grew more secure in the freaky surroundings—if such a thing were possible.