The PriZin of Zin

by Loretta Sinclair

  Mahala came back around with another fish. Hunter took the plank of wood used to char it, still hot and smoldering, and balanced it on the log between them. They both picked at it with their fingers.

  “And what will be when you find and rescue your father?” she asked looking down to the ground.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Will you return to the world above?”

  Mahala froze behind them, the grimace on her face returning for a split second, then turning to a saddened remembrance. She set down the grilled corn, and disappeared completely from the young couple, tears falling from her eyes.

  “I don’t know how to get there.”

  “There are ways,” she whispered.

  Hunter nodded. Now torn for the first time between his own family and the world he was thrust into, he had no words for the situation. The two were silent for the remainder of their dinner.

  Dyani knelt at Hunter’s feet. Inside the teepee the air was warm. There was no fire, but still it felt humid – or was he just sweating? His skin tingled wherever she touched it. Hunter had never felt like this before. He didn’t know what was happening to him. He just knew he liked it.

  Looking through the open flap of the teepee were the ever-present stares of Mahala and Mikey, Raging Bull ever watchful from behind. All standing guard at the entrance to the living quarters, they were far enough away to give a little privacy, yet close enough to keep an ever watchful eye on the two young ones.

  “That’s a beautiful necklace.” Hunter admired the charm around her neck. “It looks like a dream catcher.”

  “It is.” She smiled and raised a finger to a larger version of the same design that hung over their heads. “Keeps evil away.” She continued massaging Hunter’s feet, pouring fragrant oil over them and then rubbing it in.

  “So it will keep the deer away?” he asked.

  “Well, some at least.”

  “Oh, no,” Hunter interrupted. “I didn’t mean you.”

  Dyani smiled. “On the day that I was born, the first thing that my mother saw was a deer. It was very unusual. She said it had eyes of royalty. And so I was named.”

  Hunter smiled, entranced by her speech.

  “There are both good and evil in this world,” Dyani told him. “We must learn to know the difference. Some good is bad, and some bad can be good.”

  Hunter’s feet wiggled slightly as she continued to rub the oils in. His parched skin soaked up the moisture like a dry cloth.

  “With the dream catchers, we have a glimpse of what the eyes cannot see. Do you understand?”

  There was no reply. Dyani looked up to see Hunter stretched out flat on his back, mouth wide open, sound asleep. A loud grumbling snore followed.

  Dyani smiled. Her job tonight was done. She covered his prone body and lowered the teepee flap as she left.

  Day 3

  “Luck and prosperity to you on your journey, Pahana. The Great Spirit guide you as you travel.” Raging Bull stepped forward from the crowd to congratulate Hunter once again. “You are a feared warrior now, and you are welcome with this tribe always.” He smiled and extended his hand to Hunter. Hunter grabbed it, not by the hand in a traditional handshake, but hands grasped near the other’s elbow in the arm-to-arm bonding traditional to their native Indian culture. He smiled his thanks, all the while scanning the crowd.

  One by one, the remaining tribal elders stepped forward to congratulate him, and shake his arm. Then the crowd followed. Young girls giggled all around, but Hunter’s gaze could never seem to find Dyani.

  After everyone in the tribe wished him luck, Mikey stepped forward to greet his young friend.

  “What is that?” Hunter couldn’t contain his laughter.

  “Disguise,” Mikey said. “Good?”

  “Yeah,” he laughed again, “it’s good.” Hunter reached out and touched some of the leaves and twigs stuck in Mikey’s thick fur. He was covered with them from head to foot, looking like a giant walking bush, but still not smelling like one. Camouflage, Hunter thought. I guess the idea had to come from somewhere.

  “Come,” Mikey said. “We go now.”

  Hunter did not move.

  “Come,” he said again, touching Hunter’s shoulder. Saddened beyond words, Hunter turned to face Mikey, and saw Dyani behind him. His face lit up. Stepping past the walking bush, Hunter went to her side. In her hands was wrapped a leather strap, with a woven object on the end, and a very small piece of leather, also on a strap.

  “This is for you, to bring safety on your journey.” She held out a dream catcher identical to the one that she wore around her neck.

  “It will help you decipher evil.” She smiled. Reaching up, she placed the object around Hunter’s neck.

  He nodded his thanks and pointed to the second object, a small leather circle, no bigger than a quarter with a leather strap on it as well. “What is that?”

  Dyani held the circle up to cover her nose, and held the straps around her head. Lowering her eyes, she gestured toward Mikey. “To keep bad smells away. We call it ‘Bigfoot buddy’.”

  Hunter laughed out loud. “So this wards off evil, too. Evil smells, at least.”

  She giggled and handed the leather buddy to Hunter.

  He mumbled a thank you, trying not to let the entire tribe behind him hear.

  “Thank you for helping me last night,” Hunter managed to mumble.

  “And you helped me as well. I have passed the Rite of Womanhood now.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “In the tribe it means that I am able to be pledged to another.”

  Hunter’s heart lurched.

  “Are there any here who would want to be with you?”

  She nodded. At his hurt look she smiled. “Worry not, Pahana. I can run faster than they.”

  They both laughed.

  “Come,” Mikey said again, softly this time. He walked a few feet away and waited.

  “I will try to come back and visit,” Hunter said, not knowing if he really could.

  “I will wait for that moment,” she smiled. “Peace on your journey, Pahana.”

  “Thank you, Dyani.”

  Hunter turned to walk toward Mikey. His feet felt like lead, and his heart was just as heavy. Reaching the edge of the clearing, he turned to wave at the tribe and to look upon his new friend one last time. Stepping back into the forest, he looked over at a snickering Bigfoot.

  “Shut up, Mikey!” he snapped and headed back into the forest.

  Their screams became muffled and faint as they flew through absolute darkness, swallowed up in the pitch black hole of this new world. Slamming into the dark, hard ground, three separate aftershocks rocked the earth beneath them, and then, nothing.

  Land Ho, Matey!

  Chapter 13: Voyage

  voy·age pronunciation noun, verb, -aged, -ag·ing,

  a course of travel or passage, especially a long journey by water to a distant place.

  Day 1

  Ian slammed down hard, face-first into the soft sand. He laid still for a moment, face buried up to his ears. He could feel the coolness of the moist sand under him. Slowly, he pushed himself up and looked around. He tried, anyway. Sand clung to his face and eyelashes, dropping into his mouth and eyes with each move. Ian spat and slapped at his face and eyes until some semblance of normal vision returned.

  He was back on the beach. The water lapped gently against the tranquil shore just a few yards away. Off in the distance, across the lake, was a dense forest. Ian scanned the tree line in search of his friends. Focusing hard off into the distance, he saw movement. Narrowing his gaze, he blinked hard, and shook his head. Ian rubbed his eyes.

  I’m hallucinating.

  It looked as though the trees were moving. Not just swaying, but running, their large brown trunks shifting from one position to another. One even looked as though it had arms and legs.

  There’s no such thing as a bigfoot, Mr. Welch said. There’s no such thing.
r />   Ian dismissed it and turned back to face the water.

  He sat alone on the beach. There was no one in sight. Around him were a few large boulders, and some small rocks. There was driftwood, sea shells, and seaweed, but mostly lots and lots of sand. Off to his left side, the water extended as far as his eye could see. Once in a while, a fish would jump up and splash back down into the water. They seemed to be playing with each other. There were dozens of them stretching from the coastline, far out into the water. Ian couldn’t even see how far out they went. He stood and tried to stretch up on the tips of his toes, but wasn’t able to get a much better view. He decided to climb up on one of the large boulders near him.

  The second he stepped up, the rock unfurled itself and whipped its huge tail around in anger. Giant jaws with razor-sharp teeth swung back and snapped at him, missing his leg by mere inches. Ian lurched forward, launching his body from the rock and ran waist-deep into the water. Swimming out until he felt a safe distance, he tread water and turned back to the shore. When he did, he nearly fainted.

  The giant crocodile on the shore just a dozen or so yards away lifted its enormous head and snapped again, this time catching a seabird in its jaws. Swallowing the thing whole, it lay back down and re-curled into a ball. Waiting for more prey, Ian watched as its eyes scanned the shoreline in rapid movements. Glancing around at the other rocks on the shore, he saw eyes blinking on the rest of them, too. Occasionally a tail would whip out in a lethal jab, then tuck back under its owner again in a tight ball. There were hundreds of them.

  Ian floated in the warm inlet, trying to figure out what to do next. He clearly could not return to the shore and the dangers that awaited him there. Off to either side were the thick forests with the running trees, and behind him lay the open expanse of water as big as any ocean he had ever seen. Ian was dumbfounded. He had no options. Not knowing what to do or where to go, he floated out to a tiny island that lay off the shore and climbed up on it to think and dry out.

  Ian took off his boots and dumped out the water. He removed his shirt and wrung out as much as he could before putting it back on. Sitting on the highest mound on the small island, he closed his tired, burning eyes.

  What on earth was happening? First thing this morning he was hunting with his friends, then a nasty storm hit, catapulting him into a scary new world. Not to mention the odd little leprechaun giving advice. Now that was just weird. Now he was alone and didn’t know which way to go. Mr. Welch was a prisoner of some evil serpent. Hunter and Aeryn were who-knows-where, and a giant crocodile nearly ate him alive. Ian took a deep breath and opened his eyes. Blinking hard, he looked back at the shoreline. It seemed farther away, but that couldn’t be right. He was on an island. Ian knew he was tired, and had been through a lot. He was just imagining things now.

  With a deep sigh, he tried to re-group. What am I going to do? How am I going to get out of this mess and back to the world above? What had that little green thing said about finding a road somewhere? I have to make my own path to something. Ian looked around again. Was there a path somewhere? Was there a road?

  “Oh no.” His stomach tied into knots. He felt like he would throw up. He squinted hard through the rising sun. Ian could barely see the shore now. His island was floating. He was drifting out to sea. Ian stood and scurried down to the shore. For a moment he toyed with the idea of jumping in and swimming back to the main beach, but one thought of the giant crocs squashed that idea.

  “Great,” he said. “Could this get any worse?”

  The island lifted its enormous head and twisted back to face him.

  “Why?”

  Chapter 14: Ian

  I·an [ee-uhn, ee-ahn, ahy-uhn] noun

  a male given-name, Scottish form of John; meaning: God is gracious.

  Ian gasped at the giant head leaning down at him. The long, craning neck hovered high in the air, looking a lot like the serpent that had snatched Morgan from the shore just a short time ago. He screamed and backed up on the tiny island, realizing it was no island at all. Turning, he dashed down the creature’s back heading for the water and flung himself in.

  Ian swam as hard as he could. With no sense of direction or time, he knew he just had to get out of there, and fast. A few feet into the water, the serpent’s giant tail skimmed the surface and dragged him back up onto its back.

  “Stop,” it called to him, but Ian launched back into the water again, swimming harder and faster.

  Again the tail swung across the top of the water and hurled Ian back onto itself. “You can’t—” the creature tried to speak, but again Ian leapt into the warm water.

  Over and over again they followed this routine, with Ian growing more angry with each new try at freedom. Harder and harder he stomped back into the water, fear gone and rage taking its place, only to be flung back onto the serpent’s back one more time.

  “Let me explain,” the serpent tried again, but Ian’s closed mind would have no part in it.

  “Let me go!” Ian swung his boot back and kicked the thing as hard as he could.

  “Fine!” it sputtered, then submerged, leaving him floating in the water once again.

  Ian gasped and choked from the sudden splash of water against his face. When he relaxed, he looked around all directions, spying nothing but water as far as his eye could see. Somewhat bewildered, he struck out toward nothing.

  When the giant head popped up in front of him, he gasped, again taking in a mouthful of water. Choking, he stopped swimming to catch his breath. Without a word, he turned to swim another direction.

  “Don’t you want some help?”

  “I don’t need your help,” Ian snapped. “You, or anybody – anything – else.”

  “Oh, come on,” the thing prompted. “Let’s be friends. My name is Nestor.”

  Ian kept swimming.

  “And you might be…?” it trailed off.

  “None of your business.”

  “You know, for a human, you’re pretty angry.”

  Ian spun around in the water to face Nestor and tread water. “You dumped me in the water.”

  “You kicked me.”

  “You made me mad.”

  “You made me mad first,” Nestor quipped. “And now that we’re through with all this nonsense, can’t we just be friends?”

  “I don’t need any friends.”

  “What about the ones you are trying to find?”

  Ian slowed again, still floating, with Nestor following closely behind.

  “Do you know where they’ve gone?”

  Ian was silent.

  “Because, I do.” Nestor stopped.

  Ian spun to face it again. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Ian screamed back through the rippling surf.

  “You never asked.”

  The answer seemed so simple, yet it enraged Ian again. He swam back toward the creature with hatred shooting from his eyes.

  Nestor bobbed and weaved his long neck both in and out of the water, dodging Ian’s attempted blows. The more Ian missed, the angrier he became. Turning to swim away, Nestor’s great tail swung in front of him and dragged Ian up onto his back, again protruding from the water like a tiny island. Ian screamed and flung himself back into the water. Again and again they followed this same routine. Ian finally collapsed near the waterline of Nestor’s back, exhausted. He lay still, barely breathing, not sure what to do next.

  Nestor’s giant head hovered over him just like it did when this whole nightmare began. He snorted, but Ian swore it was more of a snicker. The head dipped down to his prone body and sniffed. Ian reached out a balled fist and slugged the snout as hard as he could.

  “Ouch!” It reared back, ready to strike, then settled down. “Ok, I guess we’re even. Now can we be friends?”

  “Why do you want to be friends with me?”

  “Because we can help each other.”

  “Help each other? How?” Ian asked.

  “I can help you find your friends.”

  “Ye
ah,” Ian ventured. “What do I have to do?”

  “Nothing,” Nestor said with a grin. “Just let me tag along.”

  It’s a trick, Ian’s insides churned a warning. It’s too simple. He eyed the serpent, an uneasiness rising in the back of his throat.

  “What do I get out of it?” he demanded.

  Nestor’s grin disappeared and his head descended down to Ian’s level. Squinting eyes narrowed down until tiny slits peered at him. He was so close his exhaled breath blew Ian’s wet hair back. “You get to find your friends, and you don’t drown.” Raising back up, Nestor glared down at his new companion.

  “Deal,” Ian said, then curled up to go to sleep. “I need a nap.”

  Chapter 15: Sail

  Sail [seyl] verb/to move along or travel over water

  Ian stretched and yawned on his makeshift floating shore. The warm ocean breeze felt good against his cool skin, baking in the late sun’s warmth. The wind came in spurts, like small bursts of the earth’s energy. He stirred, and slowly opened one eye.

  In front of him was a giant blue sphere with a big jet black globe in the middle. The warm breeze washed over him again. The sphere blinked. Ian bolted up straight, nose-to-nose with Nestor, curled up into a tight, floating ball.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Just catching a few zzz’s.” Nestor stretched his giant neck skyward and yawned, unrolling his tail into the water.

  “How could you be sleeping? You were supposed to be taking me to land.”

  “I never said I would take you to land.” Nestor laid his head back down on his back, and curled back into a ball. “I said I would take you to your friends.”

  “Yes, but my-friends-are-on-the-land,” Ian snapped.

  “I know where they are. Don’t worry. We will be there soon.”

  Ian stood on the back of the enormous sea creature. He climbed to the top of the hump protruding from the water. Looking around, he saw nothing but sea.

  “We’re not even close to land.”

  “That’s not true,” Nestor smiled. “What you call Scotland is right up there.” A fin stuck skyward.