Angus MacBain and the Island of Sleeping Kings

by Angela J. Townsend

  11

  The doors creaked open. Angus and Vanora crept into a long, dark hallway of moldering stone walls. Pewter brackets, shaped like moaning skulls, held burning torches. Angus grabbed one and took a step forward. Something crunched beneath his shoes and he lowered the torch to the floor. Bloody animal bones littered the flagstone. He grimaced and kicked the bones away. The motion bared a circular space. Something caught his eye. It looked like deep gouges in the floor. He used the side of his shoe to wipe away more debris, trying not to wonder if these were animal or human bones. Words and numbers etched deep into the floor caught his eye. His stomach lurched with a horrifying realization.

  “What are you looking at?” Vanora said impatiently. “Come on.”

  “The floor.” Angus swallowed hard. “It’s made from headstones.”

  Vanora scattered more of the bones with her shoe and knelt beside him. “How awful! She must have robbed hundreds of graves.”

  A flutter sounded overhead and Angus stared upward.

  Vanora sighed. “What is it now?”

  Angus put a finger to his lips and pointed up.

  Giant bats hung upside down from the ceiling. The scent of mold and urine drifted downward.

  Angus grimaced. “Bats.”

  “Angus?” Vanora whispered.

  “What?”

  “I don’t think those things are bats.”

  “What else would they be?”

  “Look,” she said, raising her torch. “It had a long slithering tail and a furry coat. No way those are bats.”

  “What the heck are they then?”

  “I think they’re baby Dargis.” Vanora shuddered. “Those rat things Fane told us about.”

  Angus flipped his jacket collar up, protecting his exposed neck. “Let’s just get the shield and get out.”

  They stood a second and flashed the torch around, trying to get their bearings. Angus made sure to keep one eye on the ceiling and both feet ready to run in case any of the things woke up.

  “This way,” Angus said pointing at a dark hallway.

  They hurried down the shadowy corridor. Crusty cobwebs wrapped around Angus’ throat and Vanora pulled one off her face.

  “Yuk,” she said. “Do I have anything in my hair?”

  Angus cringed, swiped the sticky web away, and glanced at her head. “I don’t think so.”

  Brittle cocooned insects tangled in his fingers. He tried to flick them to the floor, but they stuck to his flesh as if sewed on. He rubbed them off on his pant leg and ducked around another sticky web.

  At the end of the corridor they entered a large banquet hall. Torchlight danced on the gray walls. A Moorish style table and chairs with cloven feet stood in the center of the room. Goblets decorated with black widow spiders etched from onyx with rubies for their ugly red bellies sat waiting for guests. A half-eaten rack of strange looking ribs with a long hairy tailbone lay in the center of the table covered with green mossy mold. Behind the table, stained-glass windows stared into blackness.

  “Quick, let’s split up and search for the shield,” Vanora said, striding to the other side of the room.

  Angus searched near the fireplace. Nothing but dust and cobwebs. He watched as Vanora inspected a gabled bookcase stuffed into the far corner. She fingered the leather bound books and quickly jerked her hand back. The books started to rumble, then jumped up and down, one shot out onto the floor with a bang. An ugly foaming mouth with sharp teeth took shape on the purple vellum cover.

  Vanora held her hand out. “Stay back. It’s a book about rabies.”

  She slunk backwards, keeping an eye on the novel. On the cover, the thing seemed to be smiling at them. All at once, the grin died, the mouth snapped shut and green foam spilled out onto the floor from between its clenched teeth.

  The foaming goo oozed across the floor near his feet. He scanned the room. Part of him expected to see Archibald Snooker, a kid from his old school, famous for his practical jokes. Seemed more and more like this whole adventure was a giant joke—or a nightmare. That was it; Vanora wasn’t real, Fane wasn’t real. Neither were the caves or Woodworm, he was experiencing a plain and simple nightmare. What a relief because he’d waken and this whole thing would be over. But what about his mother? That part he wanted more than anything to be real.

  “Come on, let’s search the rest of this freaky place and get out before the Banshee comes back.”

  A mournful squawk made Angus jump. The squawk sounded again.

  Vanora rushed to a big steel birdcage suspended from the ceiling with a black cape thrown over it. “She’s got a poor bird trapped in here.”

  “Don’t!” Angus yelled just as she whipped off the cape.

  Two hideous black vultures with fat red jiggly necks glared down at them. They battered themselves against the bars of the cage, snapping their beaks, shrieking and scattering feathers and crusty mites in all directions.

  Angus slapped at a quarter-sized mite crawling up the back of his neck, and caught it as it burrowed into his hairline. He flicked it off the end of his index finger and smashed it with his sneaker.

  He tossed the cape back over the cage but the birds screamed in unison, “Intruders! Intruders!”

  “Come on,” Angus shouted, panic filling his belly. “We have to find the shield.”

  They bolted back down the way they came and into the other corridor which led into a massive kitchen. Angus spotted the shield, roughly the size of a saucer sled with his family crest etched across the front, hanging above a great rock fireplace.

  Below the shield, blocking their way, a giant cauldron boiled over a roaring fire. Angus crept closer to the flames and peered into the pot. What was in it? Was the Banshee boiling the flesh off someone’s bones? He craned his neck and stared into the cauldron. Blobs of milky white sheets and bits of clothes floated in soapy water. Angus’ tense shoulders relaxed, and then he noticed the look of horror on Vanora’s face.

  “What is it?”

  Vanora voice squeaked. “The Banshee washes the clothes and sheets of those close to death.”

  “Why?”

  “From what I’ve read, it seals their fate. We have to get the clothes out of there and toss them into the fire. It’ll save the person from death…if it’s not too late.” Angus picked up the stir stick and dipped it into the pot, capturing a piece of purple fabric. He lifted it up and started to heave it out. And stopped. Tears sprang into his eyes. Clinging to the end was Fane’s purple vest.

  Angus hurled it into the fire.

  Vanora gulped. “Is that what I think it is?”

  Angus shook his head. “We never should have left him.”

  “It doesn’t mean he’s dead. It seals someone’s fate—not that they’re dead already. Maybe Fane’s badly wounded. You probably just saved him by burning it. Toss the rest into the fire and let’s get out of here.”

  Angus wrapped his fingers around the stick again and hooked it on more of the clothes when a pair of bulging black eyes snapped open on the front of the caldron.

  “What do you think you’re doing? Get away from me,” the pot demanded.

  Before Angus could reply, the pot screamed, “Guard! Guard!”

  Vanora gave the pot a kick and turned it over. Water streamed up as it hit the blazing fire. The pot screamed even louder as the fire fizzled out.

  Angus climbed over the screaming caldron and stretched above the hearth to reach the shield. His fingertips grazed the rim. It dropped from its perch, clamored down the wall, missed the caldron by inches, and landed on the floor with a bang.

  He bent to grab it when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. A few feet to the right of the fireplace, a giant flap was cut into the wall, like a doggie door for a Great Dane. The flap wriggled as if caught on a breeze. A terrible growl sounded. The flap flew open and a massive head and neck pushed its way out.

  Steel hands erupted from the cauldron and clamped around his ankles like leg irons.

 
“Let go of me, or I’ll make scrap iron out of you,” Angus snarled.

  The pot sneered and pulled Angus’ leg toward its sharp teeth. Angus spotted a rusty weak spot on the side of the cauldron. He slammed his fist down hard. The pot released its hold on him and whistled to the beast at the doggie door.

  Angus wheeled around. A whole head stuck through the door, holding the flap open. The beast locked mucous colored eyes on him. The snout looked powerful enough to break stone. The head was covered in a bristly white fur; a black streak ran down its neck. It looked almost like a dog, but it wasn’t a dog.

  “What is that thing?” Angus asked.

  Vanora gulped. “It’s a Dobharchú. A water hound. Part otter, part dog. ”

  “It’s huge. Do you think it’s dangerous?”

  She nodded. “Deadly.”

  Angus tucked the shield under his arm and backed away. “Move slowly and don’t make any sudden moves,” he whispered.

  They took two steps away when the beast burst through the door flap, tearing the wall out with it. Its claws rasped against the stone floor as it scrabbled for traction.

  “Go, go!” Angus screamed.

  They thundered down the decrepit hallway to the front door. The pack Angus carried swung back and forth making it hard to run fast.

  The Dargis, still sleeping upside down from the ceiling, awoke from the commotion and at least a hundred of them barreled down, tangling themselves into Angus’ clothing.

  “Arrrr!” Vanora screamed. “They’re in my hair!”

  Angus lunged forward and swatted them away, wrenching open the door with the water hound at his heels. He slammed the double doors in the Dobharchú’s face, and Vanora bolted them shut. From the other side came the explosive sounds of the enraged Dobharchú ramming into the door with its massive head. The wood groaned, but didn’t break. Angus didn’t know how long it could hold out against the rampage.

  They dashed down the bone chip pathway, stumbling and tripping down the hill. Fifty feet from the dock, Angus slid to a stop. The skeleton was rowing away! They were too late!

  “Wait!” Angus shouted.

  The skeleton kept on going. Vanora reached the shoreline first and dove off the pier into the water. Angus ran close behind, plunging into the water and coming up waist deep. He wanted to shout for Vanora to wait, that he couldn’t swim with the shield under one arm, but just then a thrashing sound came to him from the shrubbery near the path.

  He didn’t need to be told the Dobharchú had broken through the door and was at their heels. Angus bent his knees, letting the water come up to his chin—and dogpaddled one-armed for all he was worth—because he sure wouldn’t be worth much if that creature sank its teeth into him.

  Vanora heaved herself into the boat, leaning over the edge, fingers stretched out to him. “Angus hurry! Come on!”

  Angus reached the boat, tossed the shield inside, and pulled himself in.

  He grinned at Vanora. “We made it.”

  Vanora wasn’t smiling. Angus frowned. “What’s the matter with you?”

  “Dobharchú are water hounds. They can swim.”

  Angus watched in horror as the beast dove into the water.

  12

  The skeleton didn’t seem to notice the Dobharchú swimming closer. The creature’s massive body rose and fell with heavy plunges before it vanished beneath the waves. Angus’ chest tightened with fear, because it swam at least twice as fast as the skeleton rowed. Holding his breath, Angus leaned over the gunwale. A whirlpool eddied about twenty feet away, in the murky water where the creature dove.

  “Where is it?” Angus shouted, searching the rippling surface.

  Vanora clutched the rails with white knuckles, her gaze shifting from one side of the vessel to the other. She shot Angus a worried look. “What if it comes up underneath and capsizes the boat?”

  Angus surveyed the dark surroundings. If the boat were smashed to bits, they might drown. If the creature didn’t eat them before they even got wet. And if they managed to survive, could they find their way to another cavern? What other creatures lived in those inky waters?

  Vanora grabbed his arm, her whole body shook.

  “Don’t worry,” Angus said, trying to sound brave. “If it tips us over, I’ll try to distract it while you swim to shore.”

  “I couldn’t just leave you.”

  “It’s okay,” Angus said. “I’m a strong swimmer.”

  The Dobharchú exploded from the depths with such force it created a wave that half filled the boat. Row upon row of teeth snapped. Three-inch long claws gouged the wood as it tried to scramble aboard, jerking the ship hard to one side. The boat rocked dangerously, Vanora screamed. Angus grabbed the shield just as it threatened to wash overboard.

  The skeleton’s empty eye sockets blazed red as if it finally appeared to notice the situation. It rose to its feet and beat at the Dobharchú’s head with an oar.

  Enraged, the creature bit the paddle, ripping out a chunk of wood. The skeleton dropped the oar into the boat, reached to his side and drew a silver sword from a rusty scabbard. The long curved blade glinted in the lantern light. The Dobharchú’s massive jaws snapped at Angus’ legs. He kicked at the snarling beast, adrenaline racing into his veins.

  The ghostly pirate lunged forward and with one thrust stabbed the monster, the long blade disappearing into its neck. The creature let out a gurgling howl, and foamy drool splattered Angus’ face.

  After what seemed like an eternity, the Dobharchú’s claws rasped down the sides of the boat as it sank. The shadowy waters glowed crimson.

  Angus wiped off his face with the back of his sleeve and pulled up his soggy pant leg.

  Vanora studied his leg. “Did it get you?”

  Angus shook his head, keeping a cautious eye on the restless water in case the beast wasn’t really dead.

  The skeleton casually sheathed the sword as if nothing had happened. He sat down slowly, his bones creaking. The phantom stretched out his arms, wrapped his fingers around the oar handles, and rowed silently into the dark.

  They traveled through endless tunnels and caverns overgrown with vegetation feasting on the thin gray moonlight filtering down from cracks in the ceiling. About after a mile, at least it seemed that long, Angus finally tore his gaze from the water behind them.

  Vanora had fallen asleep stretched across the stern, not moving except for an occasional shiver. If he had a blanket, or even a jacket, he would’ve covered her with it. Thankfully, she hadn’t been harmed in the attack. He couldn’t bear to lose her, his only friend. Angus’ eyes drifted shut, but only for a moment. He couldn’t allow himself to sleep. He needed to watch over Vanora while she rested and he feared what lay hidden in the dark folds of the cave.

  They sailed past dark intersections, tunnels, and chasms. Niches of blackness filled with strange sounds made Angus glad he didn’t know what creatures lurked inside.

  Moments later, the longboat bumped into a rocky ledge that led into yet another dark cavern. The entranceway glowed with luminous green moss. White mineral stones hardened, and rounded smooth by water and time, protruded from the walls like popcorn.

  A voice broke into Angus’ mind.

  Angus, tell me where you are?

  His heart hammered. Fane! So he wasn’t dead!

  Angus closed his eyes and concentrated hard. “We’ve just landed at a bright cavern with glowing green moss.”

  Do you have the shield?

  “Yes.”

  Good. Follow the narrow passage and I’ll meet you at the end.

  “Who are you talking to?” Vanora said, rubbing her eyes.

  “It sounds nuts, but just now Fane’s voice popped into my head telling me what to do. Not sure how to explain it, but it’s like he’s standing next to me. But it’s coming from inside my head.”

  “You mean like telepathy?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He said to keep going and he’d me
et us at the next passageway.”

  Vanora yawned. “Whether the voice is real or not, I wish we could stop and rest somewhere. I’m exhausted.”

  “Rest? And have something sneak up on us?”

  Vanora nodded. “You’re right, I know. I’m just so tired.”

  “We’ll have plenty of time to relax when this is over.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Like this is ever gonna be over.”

  “I bet your father’s worried.”

  “I guess, hope he won’t ground me for the summer.”

  Angus stood up in the boat, stepped past the skeleton and onto the rocky ledge. The skeleton reached out and seized him by the arm. Angus tried to jerk away, but the skeleton held fast. Panic rose in his chest and formed a solid lump that dropped into his gut. Was it after his shield? The bony creature leaned over and grabbed the lantern from the bow and handed it to him.

  “Stop freaking out,” Vanora said. “He’s just trying to give you the light.”

  “Oh,” Angus said, feeling silly. He nodded to the skeleton and took the lantern. He set the light and the shield down and offered a hand to Vanora.

  She stretched, arching her back like a cat and yawned before taking hold of Angus’ hand and climbing out.

  Still wordless, the skeleton slid the oars into the water and rowed into the darkness.

  “Thank you,” Angus called to it.

  Just before the boat slipped out of sight, the skeleton’s eyes blazed and it tipped its head to him.

  Somewhere in the near distance came an angry screech. Vanora sucked in a breath. She looked up at Angus, her face white with terror. “It’s the Banshee. She’s coming for the shield. We have to get out of here!”

  Angus’ legs felt like they’d been turned into Jell-O. Vanora ran down the corridor about twenty steps, stopped, and looked back. “Come on!”

  A dark shadow fell over Angus’ head. The light from the lantern flickered out. Coldness penetrated the back of his neck and deep into his chest, freezing his heart with a paralyzing chill. He didn’t have to look to know the Banshee was close behind. He spun around to face her.