Vanora tapped Angus on the shoulder. Her eyes glistened with hope. “They must have died,” she whispered. “Without any food they probably all starved.”
Angus nodded. He didn’t remind her of the sounds they’d heard moments ago. Just then, out of the corner of his eye, the end of a long tail slithered around the corner.
In the torchlight, Fane’s face tightened into a mask of wrinkles. “We must keep going and when we reach a certain point I need you to do exactly as I instruct.”
Angus nodded while they plunged into the darkness, creeping into the dark behind Fane. Ahead, a narrow passageway branched off in two directions. Fane paused, peering down one of the dark and musty tunnels. Chew marks and scratches covered the walls.
“Which way?” Angus asked.
Fane scowled and nodded at the crude tunnel. “This way leads to their nest. I will hold them back while you escape through the next maze of tunnels. Take the first three rights, then a left. When you come to a dead-end, use the chalk and draw a doorway out. They cannot tolerate iron so be sure to write the word across the face of the door, so they can’t follow you.”
“We can’t just leave you.…”
A loud scuffle echoed from the darkness. Fane clasped a hand over Angus’ mouth and hissed into his ear. “Silence! Now go!”
Fane released his grip on Angus and with a wave of his hand ushered them away. They wove through another series of vile tunnels, each more dank and loathsome than the next, until they reached a stone wall.
A terrible shriek echoed from somewhere in the dark.
Angus fumbled for the chalk; panic constricted his throat like a drawstring pulled too tight. He reached deep into his pocket, gripped the chalk and frantically drew a door. The sides came out all crooked and the chalk broke in his hand. With the stub he sketched a doorknob and wrote the word iron across the front. Then he stepped back and waited. Nothing happened. He’d known it had to be too good to be true. Who ever heard of drawing a picture on a wall and having it turn out real?
All at once smoke rose around the chalk outline. A light as bright as a welder’s torch sent sparks along the wall.
A real door took shape. A heavy iron door.
“Wow!” Vanora squealed. “That’s so cool!”
Angus gripped the doorknob and jerked his hand back from the heat. He wrapped his jacket around the knob and pulled open the door. They bolted inside and Angus slammed the door behind them. He surveyed the massive room. They stood inside a beautiful crystal cave so high and vast that it felt like they were outside. Except instead of a night sky, a ceiling towered overhead with glowing iridescent crystals for stars. A few feet away, a deep lagoon flowed.
Vanora spun around and smiled. “What is this place?”
“I don’t know. I think it’s some sort of crystal cavern,” Angus answered.
Vanora’s eyes twinkled with excitement. “It’s just like my grandma’s jewelry box.”
Vanora knelt next to the sparkling water. “It looks and smells so pure.”
Angus shrugged off his backpack and crouched beside her, dipping his hand into the water. It felt cool and silky yet it had the grit of salt. “There must be an underground passage from the ocean.”
Vanora nodded. “I’m sure there is.”
Brilliant blue, pink, and green crystals reflected off the tranquil waters making the room come alive with light. On the floor, underneath rocky pontoons, gentle streams of turquoise waters flowed under the cave walls and into the lagoon.
Vanora sat on a rock. “Can we just stop and rest for a second?”
“Sure,” Angus said. “For just a little while, then we better get going.”
“Must be exciting finding out you’re a king.”
Angus shrugged off his pack and sat beside her. “I’m more excited about finding my mom and getting the heck out of here.”
“Bet you miss New York and all your friends.”
“Not really. I miss my grandpa. Never had many friends. I like to hang alone and I’m not really into sports.”
“Why not? Bet you’re good at football.”
“Why, because of my size?”
“Well, no offense, but aren’t most big guys good at contact sports?”
“Not me,” Angus sighed. “I tried football once. It wasn’t pretty. Knocked some geeky little kid clean out.”
Vanora laughed.
“But I am strong,” Angus quickly added. “I can lift almost anything. Pretty good at arm wrestling too.”
“Guess everyone has something they’re good at. Mine seems to be annoying people.”
“I don’t think you’re so bad,” Angus said. “I like you.”
Vanora blushed and Angus suddenly felt uncomfortable. “We need to keep moving and find Fane.” Angus shouldered his pack. “I’m worried about him. Hopefully he got away and can find us.”
Vanora got to her feet, brushing off her backside. “I’m sure he’ll be all right. At least I hope so.”
“Let’s go,” Angus said. “Stay close.”
They ducked around a long stalactite shaped like a candy cane and ventured deeper into the cavern. Angus climbed over a mound of crystals and debris to a rocky path. He followed the stone walkway while Vanora tagged along behind, studying the formations. They rounded a corner and came to a sudden dead end. In front of them stood a stalactite carved into a giant Celtic cross. Next to it stood a marble altar. Above the altar, six giant animal heads protruded from the wall. The first was an ugly eel, followed by an elephant with its trunk upraised, a growling wolfhound, a wild boar, a lion, and a majestic stag. Gaelic words were etched deep into the stone. Angus took out his grandfather’s book, but none of the creatures were in it.
“There has to be a way out of here.” Vanora chewed her lower lip. “And I’m not going to go back out the way we came in, so don’t even suggest it.”
“No, I guess I’ll have to get wet and see if the water leads out of here to the ocean. If I draw another door we’ll still be stuck inside more caverns.”
Vanora’s brow wrinkled as she studied the writing. “Wait, look at this, it says something about a way out.” Her lips moved soundlessly as her eyes tracked across the writing. She wiped away dust and dirt with two fingers. “It says to pick an animal but beware. If you pick the wrong one it will come to life and kill everyone in sight.”
Angus raised an eyebrow. “Oh, is that all?”
Vanora ignored him. “It also says you must reach inside the mouth of the animal and pick your prize or…” She screwed up her face. “. . .Or pick its teeth, I can’t tell which.”
Angus scowled. “I’m going with pick a prize.”
He was about to touch shaky fingers to the head of the first creature when a high-pitched wail came from behind him. Vanora screamed and clamped down on Angus’ arm. Her fingers pinched into his skin. They whirled around. A ghostly male face, paler than any normal human, floated inches above them. The figure was almost translucent, but there was no hiding its shaggy beard and phantom features. Its gray tunic with chain-mail sleeves bore the MacBain crest.
It opened its mouth to wail again when Vanora released her hold on Angus’ arm and stepped around him. She pointed a finger at the apparition’s nose. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but sneaking up behind people and wailing is just plain rude.”
The eyes of the ghost widened, then narrowed. It hovered closer. “How dare you speak to me in such a forward manner? Don’t you know who I am?”
Vanora screwed up her face. “Let me guess. You’re Woodworm. And how dare you sneak up and shriek in my ear?”
“That’s Mister Woodworm to you, and it’s my job to shriek. What do you expect me to do, you little ninny?”
Vanora balled up her fists. “Who do you think you’re calling a ninny?”
Angus pulled her to the side. “Stop it,” he hissed into her ear. “If we suck up to him, maybe we can get some information out of him. I bet he knows the way out.”
/> Vanora gritted her teeth and released a long breath, then nodded for him to go ahead.
Angus turned back to Woodworm and forced a smile. “You must be pretty good at finding your way around. We sure would like to get out of here and out of your way. Could you tell us how?”
Floating inches from Angus’ face, Woodworm put a hand to his chin and rolled his eyes upward as if in deep thought. He opened his mouth to speak, then he crossed his arms across his chest. “I would do so gladly, for you, sir, but not for the rude ninny.”
Vanora leapt forward. “How dare you!”
Woodworm floated to a cave wall, and right before vanishing stuck out his tongue at her.
Her face turned red. “What nerve.”
“Great, he’s gone. Thanks a lot, now we have no help.”
“So you’re mad at me for sticking up for myself?”
“Help getting out of here would’ve been nice.”
A clammy finger feathered across Angus’ shoulders. He slapped the back of his neck. Woodworm had returned and now floated on his side with his head resting on the palm of his hand. “You know I can hear every word you whisper to the ninny. I’ll help you get out of this cavern but only because I want my peace and quiet back.”
Vanora slit her eyes at the ghost. “Why don’t you just tell us how and we’ll get outta your way?”
Woodworm let out a loud, obnoxious yawn. “All right, anything to get rid of you.” He smirked and floated close to Vanora. “The way out is simple, and if you weren’t such a little ninny-pants, you’d have figured it out already. What you need to do is insert your hand inside one of the beast’s mouth. Inside the mouth of each animal are different treasures, to be used to pay your fare aboard a ship. Now there are five beasts to choose from, each representing a different ship. If you don’t select the correct ship the beast will come to life, tear itself from the wall and eat you. If you pick the right one you will be taken to where King MacBain’s shield is held. According to legend you will need the shield to defeat Dragomir. But you already knew that, I’m sure.”
“No I didn’t,” Angus said.
Woodworm looked surprised, then sniffed and rolled his eyes. “Well that’s not very reassuring. Now listen carefully, the names of the ships are, The Dark Doubloon represented by the Eel. The Angry Executioner, represented by the lion.” Woodworm held his hands together and grimaced. “I wouldn’t want to stick my hand in that one. He’s all teeth, you know. Anyhow, the bull elephant represents the Serpent Of The Seven Seas. The Howling Hangman, by the Irish wolfhound. The Cursed Compass by the wild boar and last but not least, The Bloody Battle Ax, which is represented by the highland stag.”
Angus frowned. “How are we supposed to know which one to pick?”
The apparition shrugged. “How should I know? This is your quest, not mine.”
“You’ve only been here for hundreds of years. How could you not know?”
“It’s been hundreds of years since a MacBain or any other human has been in this place. I’ve been at peace and rest… until now. So hurry up and get on with it, so I can rid myself of your irritating presence. I can’t tell you what beast to pick. You must sense which one is right. ”
Angus studied the figureheads, walked over to them and stood in front of each animal. The stag with its massive antlers looked the friendliest, but if it sprang to life it could gore him with its horrible rack of horns.
Vanora moved to Angus’ side. “I think the choice is really quite simple.”
He raised an eyebrow. “How?”
“It has to be between The Bloody Battle Ax and The Highland Stag.”
“Why?”
“It’s the only Scottish sounding one, not to mention it’s the only thing that represents a weapon. The rest are ships named after people, tools and animals.”
Woodworm swooped at Angus’ head. “I think the Ninny’s right, you know, though I hate to agree with her.”
Angus took a deep breath, stepped forward, and inserted his fingers into the stag’s gaping mouth. Warm moisture coated his hand as he brushed past its pink tongue.
The animal’s eyes blinked.
“ARRRRR!”
Angus jumped and jerked his hand out. Woodworm held his sides and did somersaults in the air, laughing hysterically. “So sorry Ninny-kins, I couldn’t help myself.”
Angus balled his hands into fists. “Do you think you can control yourself ? If not, then please leave or I’m callin’ an exorcist.”
Woodworm’s eyes flared open. “No, no. Please do continue. I promise to behave myself.”
Angus reached inside the mouth again, feeling the pink tongue tickle the palm of his hand. Moist air flowed up his arm, as if the animal was breathing. Alive. His fingers grazed a round, smooth object. Angus wrapped his hand around it and snatched it out of the stag’s mouth.
A polished rose stone, the size of a marble, rested in his palm.
Woodworm floated close to Angus’ shoulder. “Well, well. Good choice ninny-kins. Now you have your fare, but,” he tilted his head and hovered up several feet as if he were about to impart some undesirable information, “according to legend, you must also sacrifice something of yourself. Something highly personal. You must toss it into the water.” Woodworm paused, then raised an eyebrow. “From what I hear, the Banshee has your shield. So take great care. She’s the harbinger of death, you know.”
Angus fingered the dragon amulet inside his shirt. He took the chain off his neck and clutched it to his chest. Tears burned his eyes as he studied it for the last time.
Vanora gasped. “No, Angus, there must be something else we can use. How about your grandfather’s book.”
Angus shook his head angrily. “There’s no other way. We’ll need the book to get us out of here.”
He held the amulet to his chest, paused, and then tossed it into the water. It landed with a plunk. Angus’ stomach fell as he watched the neckpiece waft down. He stared at it till it was out of sight. Woodworm flew to one side of the cave. Worry creased his brow and half of him disappeared inside the wall.
The placid waters churned to a boil, transforming from a pretty turquoise into a decaying gray. Within seconds, waves three, four, five feet high towered over their heads. Amazingly, not a drop splashed onto them. Angus watched in awe as a pirate ship rose from the depths. Vanora stood next to him with her mouth open, her eyes wide. Seaweed and crusty barnacles clung to the ship’s hull like Neptune’s hair. On the bow an ornately carved figurehead of a stag with ruby eyes, leaned boldly forward. Looming high above it, rotten canvas sails dripped with water. Standing on the lantern-lit deck, the remains of a skeletal pirate crew stood ready. Their skulls bore helmets adorned with horns and armor plates no doubt made of looted gold.
A longboat lowered from the ship’s side, cast through the waves, oars rowing with unseen hands. It bumped to a stop at their feet. At first it appeared no one manned the boat, then in the water’s reflection Angus saw a flash of a skeletal figure. That’s when he realized he was still holding Vanora’s hand, squeezing it tight.
Angus dropped it fast, swallowed hard, grabbed hold of the gunwale and took a step. He stood, one foot in the boat, and one on the cave floor. He put out a hand to her. At first she held back, her eyes bugged out of her head—whether because of the new apparition or because he’d taken her hand in a moment of fear, he didn’t know. He felt lame for being so weak. What had he been thinking? She probably thought he was a total wimp. Finally, she accepted his hand and stepped in. They waited, but the boat didn’t move.
At the oars sat a skeleton wearing a black bandana wrapped around its skull, a long sword at its side and the tattered remnants of clothes. It leaned forward and stretched out its bony hand toward Angus who froze in bewilderment.
“I think he wants you to pay the fare,” Vanora said, not moving her eyes from the skeleton.
Angus dropped the rose stone into its hand, if all those bones could be called a hand. The thing snatched the object
and rowed swiftly through the waters, past the ship and into the murky darkness.
“Where is it taking us?”
“To where the shield is, I guess.”
“I thought we were going on the ship?” Vanora said, frowning.
Angus shrugged. “I don’t know. Guess not.”
They both turned and waved good-bye to Woodworm, who waved back with a linen hankie before blowing his nose.
They rowed deeper into the darkness. The oars dipped in and out of the water with a rhythmic splashing sound. The cavern gradually widened into a vast body of stinking water. An overpowering scent of rot filled the stagnate air. Dead fish floated belly-up in congealed blood. Decaying lizards, frogs, and turtles bobbed on the filmy surface covered in algae and sludge. Angus’ stomach roiled. To think a few moments ago he’d felt the pangs of hunger.
Lights flickered ahead. Out of the gloom a towering castle came into view, surrounded by putrid waters on all sides. Near a small pier, a rocky path paved with crushed skulls led from the shoreline. It wound up like a snake to a set of steep black steps high overhead. The skeleton dropped one oar. Its boney fingers pointed to the castle.
Angus got to his feet and stepped out of the boat. Vanora followed. They waited as the skeleton reached into the belly of the rowboat and produced an hourglass. It tipped the glass over; the sand started to fall.
“I think he’s only giving us a short time to get back before he leaves us,” Vanora said.
“Let’s hurry.” Angus grabbed her hand. This time with confidence. He liked the way her small hand felt in his, the comfort it gave him. They jogged along the pathway and up the winding steps.
Vanora pulled up her sleeve and glanced at her watch. Struggling to catch her breath she said. “At this time of the night…the Banshee will be out collecting the dead.” She inhaled and let it all out slow, then finished all in one breath. “We’ll have to hurry. If the legend is true, she returns home at midnight and its almost eleven right now!”
They hurried to an imposing set of wooden doors, flanked by stone columns covered in moss. Bold brass hinges extended the entire width. Angus gripped the steely handles and pushed the doors open.
Angus MacBain and the Island of Sleeping Kings Page 9
