The PriZin of Zin

by Loretta Sinclair

  “Almos’ thar, lad. Keep holdin’s on.”

  Ian wanted to answer, but was afraid he could not hold his nausea down, or up. In his predicament, he didn’t know which.

  What he did know was that the rope he’d managed to get himself tangled in was firm around his ankle. It felt almost like a hand grabbing him. Funny, he thought. It’s warm.

  Ian cracked open one eye and dared to look back up toward the crow’s nest.

  The blood was rushing to his head. His temples felt like they would explode. His head throbbed, his eyes hurt, and the world sounded like it was filtered through a tunnel.

  “Comin’, kid.” Ruben climbed faster. “Hold’s ye on, thar, boy.”

  “Help! Ian.” Another voice. Faint. Familiar.

  Help? Is that - - - “Mr. Welch?”

  Ian spun around, held by the single rope twisted around his ankle.

  “Ian. Get me out! Find Hunter!”

  “Hold on, Mr. Welch! I’m coming.”

  “Ian?” It was his best friend. He knew Hunter’s voice anywhere.

  “Hunter! Hunter, I hear you!”

  “Believe in yourself. You can do it.”

  “Soar!”

  “Aeryn?” Now he heard Hunter’s little sister.

  “Let go and soar.”

  “Aeryn, where are you?”

  The echo in his head throbbed louder. His head was splitting. If he didn’t get back upright, Ian felt like his brain would explode. Reaching both arms out, he tried to grab for the first thing to stop his world from spinning and hold his body still. He managed to grab a peg on the main mast. Holding on, he opened his eyes and tried to pull his body back upward.

  Ruben scampered up underneath him and steadied Ian’s body against his massive chest.

  “I’s gots ye. Yer safe, lad.”

  Ian breathed easy and felt the throbbing ease between his ears. Slumping against his fellow pirate, Ian took a deep breath.

  “Best be gittin’ ye—” Ruben’s voice trailed off into nothing, then gasped.

  “What?” Ian opened his eyes again and looked up. When it registered in his mind what he was seeing, Ian gasped, too.

  Wound tightly around his ankle was the rope that he had felt. It was not a rope from the ship’s rigging.

  Descending from the clouds above was one end of a long silvery rope, with the other wound securely around Ian’s ankle. The glistening threads sparkled in the sunlight from his foot, right up to where it disappeared into the clouds above.

  Ruben stared, holding his little friend, unsure what to do next.

  “What is it?” Ian whispered.

  “I be’s not sure, lad.”

  “Get it off.” He jerked his foot around, kicking and yanking, but the rope held firm.

  “Do it hurt ye?” Ruben asked.

  “No.” Ian stared at the anomaly, not sure what to make of it. He shook his foot again, angrily trying to get the thing off.

  “Weel, it saved ye, sure. Mus’ be not from evil, then.”

  Another kick.

  Nothing.

  “Aaahhhh!” Ian lashed out, jerking and kicking to release his captive foot.

  “Stop, lad! We both be fallin’, sure.” Ruben grabbed the mast again, more securely.

  “What am I supposed to do now?” Ian snapped.

  “Weel, did ye ask it to be releasin’ ye?”

  “Ask it? Are you kidding me? It’s a stupid rope.”

  “Aye. A rope that saved ye, and holds ye safe still. Did ye ask it to save ye?”

  Ian thought for a second. “I think I said ‘help’.”

  “Weel, then. If’n ye asked fer help and it came, then ye’d best ask to be released.”

  “Let me go!” Ian belted out toward the sky. The rope released him. Ian teetered backward. “No!” he screamed. The rope wound back around his ankle, securing him again.

  Ian and Ruben stared at each other.

  The others scaling the mast were now at their side.

  “Matey, what be thar?”

  Toothless smiled. “I’s thinks that be the Great Cap’n hisself.”

  “The Great Captain?”

  “Aye,” Toothless smiled again. “Lookin’ down on his sailors, he does.”

  “How do I get down?”

  “Weel, first ye thanks hisself fer savin’ ye.”

  “Thank you,” Ian said to the rope, feeling more than a little stupid.

  “Thens ye jus’ asks hisself to brings ye down.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Aye.”

  Ian looked at the attachment to his leg. The warmth crept up his leg and toward his heart. “It can’t be that simple,” he whispered.

  “Aye, lad. But it is.” Toothless moved in closer. “Sometimeses things be’s harder than they aught ‘cause of angers. If’n we kin let’s that angers go, and jus’ asks hisself to helps us, we kin gets farther, sure.”

  The warmth turned into a tingling sensation. There was an excitement growing in his chest. “Just ask, huh?”

  “Try’s it, lad.”

  Ian looked at the sparkling silver thread that kept him attached to something above. “Will you please let me go?” he asked – quickly adding “after I am safe.”

  The rope grew taught against his leg. Pulling skyward, it jerked him back up, out of the reach of his friends.

  “Aaahhhh! No!” he screamed. “Put me down!”

  The rope wiggled slightly, then lowered an upside-down Ian slowly down to the deck. Ruben, Toothless, and the others descended at about the same pace, keeping an eye on their protégé as they came down. When they were down low enough, Ian put out his hands and lay down easily on the deck. The rope unwound to release him, then zipped back up into the sky, leaving the pirates surrounding a shaken Ian lying at their feet.

  Step.

  Thump.

  Step.

  Thump.

  Step.

  Thump.

  “On yer feet, swaby. Gits to work, all of ye’s.” Peg Leg glared at the idle crew. “Throw’s ye in the brig, I will, if I catches ye layin’ ‘round a’gin.”

  Step.

  Thump.

  Step.

  Thump.

  Step.

  Thump.

  Chapter 24: Stalactite

  sta·lac·tite [stuh-lak-tahyt, stal-uhk-tahyt] noun

  a deposit, usually of calcium carbonate, shaped like an icicle, hanging from the roof of a cave.

  “All hands on deck!” The call jolted Ian from a deep slumber. “Death looms ahead!” Wide awake, senses reeling, he struggled to gain control of his whirling emotions.

  The ship’s crew flew into action around him. Pirates bolted for the hatch leading to the deck, leaving Ian to follow behind. Desperate to keep up, yet still unable to comprehend what was going on, he followed the others, trying his best just to keep up. To Ian, it seemed as if he was the only one moving in slow motion.

  “Drop the sails! Raise the boom! Head for cover, man, whilst there’s still life on this here ship!”

  The pirates swirled around him like a hurricane. Ian, nearly frozen in place, was unable to think. Slow to process, and even slower to move, he tried to help, but to no avail. It wasn’t until he felt strong arms on his shoulders that he was snapped out of his daze.

  “Up the mast, yung’un. To the nest, yonder.” Ruben’s arms guided him to the main mast. “I’s rit behind ye.”

  The first few rungs of the mast-ladder came awkward and slow. Ian felt sluggish and bogged down. He looked around to see a thick, bluish-gray fog creeping in around them, quickly sealing the ship in its wake. He felt a foreboding sense of doom come over him.

  “Git!” Ruben’s order barked from below. “Git, a’fore we’s all died!”

  Ian managed somehow to snap out of his funk and kick himself into high gear. With Ruben on his tail, they took the rungs two at a time and scaled the mast in a matter of minutes. Both pirates entered the crow’s nest within seconds of one another.
/>   “What is it?”

  “Death.” Ruben spun around the small enclosure, straining to look into the dense cover. “Best watch fer ‘em.”

  “Who is them?”

  “Evil.”

  “But I don’t—“

  “Shhhhh! They be listenin’. Careful what they’s hears.”

  Ian opened his mouth to speak again, but a sharp glare from Ruben silenced him. A long slender finger pointed outward into the thick mist. With his arm outstretched, Ruben’s extended finger was barely visible in front of him.

  Ian, vision strained out into the dense cover, took his place in the nest. He craned his neck every direction and tried to see, but he could not. The bluish-gray fog was thick, and it swirled around in a circle, disorienting all around them. There was an odd odor in the air, also. The stench was so thick, Ian felt as though he could grab it. Nauseated, he raised his hand to wipe away the sweat that had formed on his forehead and cheeks. His hand came away with a slimy grey mucous.

  “Death,” Ruben whispered. A finger came up to his lips in a hushing motion. “If’n they gits one, they be’s happy and will leave. Watch fer ‘em.”

  The Wayfarer zig-zagged back and forth between the scattered rocks. ‘Rocks’ didn’t do these formations justice. They were more like tiny mountains sticking up through the ocean, each one an island by itself. The formations were impressive. Each one had a coloring unique to itself. Some had jagged cliff formations, and others were as smooth as glass. Many on the outer edges of the grouping had both stalactites and stalagmites growing from them. As they passed within inches, Ian and Ruben both reached out to touch the overhanging rocks, marveling at the maneuverability of both the ship and its captain. They got close enough on several occasions for Ian to reach out and touch the higher mineral formations, all covered with the same grey mucous material that hung so thick in the air. Each scaly stone piece showed layers of calcification, yet felt slick and smooth in his hand. Ian wondered at the science of it all. What caused these sharp formations to grow, and why here? They were not on every rock, just some.

  Why?

  The ship lurched violently to one side.

  “Git the blades!” he heard screamed from below. “Chop us loose! Quick! A’fore ‘tis too late!”

  Ian looked down toward the deck, but could see nothing.

  “What is it?” There was an urgency in his question.

  “Ye should not speak, lad. They mights—“

  The first strike came from nowhere. All Ian saw were the clenching jaws and razor-sharp teeth.

  “Duck!” Ruben hit the floor, yanking Ian’s head down with him. They huddled below the rim of the basket, shielding themselves from attack.

  “Wha—?” Ian didn’t finish the word before his question was answered. A skeleton of a giant shark circled the crow’s nest, swimming in thin air. It cut through the thick, gray, hanging mucous like a hot knife through butter. Gray sunken eyes rolled around the boney sockets looking for their prey. Razor-sharp teeth, dripping deathly slime, and snout flaring as the creature tried to sniff out fresh prey. Ian shrunk back further into the elevated basket.

  Death.

  “Git us free a’fore we goes under!”

  Chopping and hacking sounds, mingled with screams, billowed upwards. Ian crawled in a circle flat against the floor of the nest to the opening. Looking down, he saw thick seaweed vines slinking up the mast and the sails toward them. Moving at an incredible pace, Ian reared back to keep from being snatched by one, only to have his head butted by a skeletal tail above. A flash of anger tore through him. Ian bolted up and let out a scream at the creature that had just slapped him. The hunting remains turned in the fog and sped back toward the mast.

  “No!” Ruben reached out to grab Ian. He was a split-second too late. The slimy goo on his skin made Ian impossible to hold onto. The creature, jaws open wide in a deathly smile, slammed into the main mast, hurtling Ian from the basket. With several skeletons free-falling behind him, Ian splashed down into the churning hot waters below, leaving Ruben and the rest of the crew chopping away at the mutant, spreading, seaweed.

  Ian hit the water in full stride. Arms overhand and legs kicking, Ian made way toward the nearest shelter. He heard the splashes behind him, but never slowed down. Reaching the first formation of huge stalagmites, he flipped his body over them and onto the higher ground behind them. In the relative safety of a small cave, Ian let his guard down. He stood to face the intruders head-on. Seeing them through the dense fog, they circled inches away from him.

  “Yeah! That’s right! You can’t get me, you slimy blood-suckers. You and whose army?” He was pacing. Back and forth across the rocky ridge, Ian barely noticed when the island began to move. “Come on! I’m right here, you cowards! Come on over here and get me, why don’t ya?” He had to grab one of the rocks for balance. Ian looked down to see the platform under his feet shift away from the rocks in front of him. Losing his balance, Ian toppled backward and fell face up. It was then that he noticed the ridge of stalactites that so closely matched the stalagmites below. They almost looked like— teeth.

  He tried to squirm away, but it was too late. The rows slammed together in an ear-shattering jolt.

  Ian hurtled down a long, slender waterfall, and splashed down into a warm, churning pool —

  Again.

  Chapter 25: Swallow

  swal·low [swol-oh] verb (used with object)

  to take into the stomach by drawing through the throat and esophagus with a voluntary muscular action, as food, drink, or other substances; to accept without question or suspicion.

  “AHHHH!!!!!!”

  Ian fought against the swirling tide trapped inside the creature. He struggled also to keep down his rising tide of his emotions. Anger reared up inside of him once again at the situation he found himself in.

  “No!” Ian kicked out, his foot, landing against something hard. The beast recoiled, sending Ian hurtling across the pitch dark space, slamming into something equally hard on the other side. Dazed, he tried to feel his way around in the darkness.

  There seemed to be rows of hard structures, with softer, pliable areas in between. Ian felt his way past several of the boney hard pieces, but once again found himself thrown back across the cavernous insides when he touched a tender spot. Every inch covered with the thick mucus ooze that had been suspended in the fog, Ian found it hard to breathe or move. Each step he took felt like he was walking in gelatin. He fought to stay standing.

  Maybe I can climb up the throat.

  Ian felt around until his hands were reaching more upwards than sideways.

  This must be it.

  He stretched his hand up as high as he could, grabbing on to a soft fleshy mound protruding from the rest of the tissue. He lifted his foot to take a step and pulled with all his might, hoisting his weight upwards.

  A growl began to rumble deep in the flesh that was in Ian’s grasp. Around him, tissue reverberated as the low rumble turned into a hideous scream. It swallowed hard, pulsing all of the muscles in its throat, throwing Ian backwards into the pool of mucous and water. Slamming down hard into the fluid, Ian fought to swim for the surface and a breath of stale, belched air. A split-second before he surfaced, flames shot from deep within the belly of the creature. They flew like a flamethrower straight over the top of the mucus pool Ian was submerged in, and up the throat of the beast. Lasting only a few seconds, the flames blew out quickly and the thick pool settled. Ian burst upward gasping for air.

  He sat stunned for a moment, then lashed out, kicking and screaming.

  “Let me out!” Ian tried to run, but slipped over and over again back into the slimy pool. “Ahhhh!” He tried to wipe the mucous away from his eyes, but it was so thick, the grayish matter just slid down from the top of his head again.

  “Who are you?

  Taking several steps across the warm pond, Ian slowly made his way across the cavern to the hard, ribbed structure on the other side. “What are you!”<
br />
  With each step, he shouted.

  “Let me out!”

  Ian realized that the harder he fought, the harder his fight was. The snot just slowed him down more. He tried taming his actions, but not his tongue.

  “Come on, you coward! You wanna fight me? Go ahead! Take your best shot!”

  Stepping gently, he continued through the middle of the pool.

  “I ain’t afraid of you, whatever you are.”

  He wiped his eyes free of the slime again.

  “Come on. Show yourself. Lousy, stinking, coward.”

  Ian reached the side of the thing, and stepped up on the edge, out of the slime.

  “I’m ready for you. Whenever you want a piece of this, just show yourself! That is, if you ain’t scared! Stupid slime ball.”

  Ian sat down.

  There was silence. The creature seemed to have settled back down.

  “And turn on some lights, would ya!”

  Silence.

  Ian’s frustration began to surface. He felt on the verge of tears but fought them back. He could not let this thing win, no matter what it was.

  “Please,” he half whispered. “Just so I can see.”

  The rumbling growl started again from deep in the belly. Ian dove for the safety of the obnoxious liquid, no matter what it was. Just as the growl became a scream, the flames shot forth once again, illuminating everything from the bowels to the nostrils of this thing.

  It’s a dragon.

  Ian surfaced and sat stunned in the warmth. I’ve been swallowed by a fire-breathing dragon.

  There was an eerie glow in the cavern when the flames had receded. Ian looked up to see the hard boney structures that he’d felt were the ends of its ribs. Each of those ends was now on fire, glowing like a row of candles lighting the rest of the dungeonous cavern. The side opposite him had another row, lit in the same fashion.

  Rib cage. A cage, and I am locked in the middle.

  “Let me out!” he screamed again. The rib cage shifted slightly but, when Ian calmed down, it calmed down, too.

  Ian slid down on his butt. He could no longer hold back. Here, locked up in this new prison, he let his tears have their way.

  Ian woke up some time later, exhausted and in pain. His head ached. His ribs hurt. His hands were sore. His pants torn and his knees skinned. There was no sense of time. No way to tell if minutes, hours, or days had passed. It was all just time.