The Gorgon's Blood Solution (9 page)

Kreewhite began to wave his tail, and it felt to Marco as though they leapt ahead.  He tightened his hold momentarily until he felt settled, then loosened his grip as their journey began.

They moved through the water wordlessly for over an hour.

“What is your home like?” Marco asked.

“I live with my sister and her mate.  We’re in the new town that everyone moved to after a human ship found our old town,” he said.

Marco felt awkwardness.  “Did the humans chase you away?”

“They hunt us down.  They take us captive, and cut us into pieces.  That human with the evil powers back on the ship – people like him use our body parts to help make their magic stronger,” Kreewhite said back over his shoulder to Marco, who was glad he could not see the boy’s face at that moment

“You saved my life.  I heard the men on the ship say that you injured the wicked powerful one, and wrecked their plans.  If you hadn’t done that, if they had been able to get away the way they planned, with the evil one healthy and whole, I’d be dissected already,” Kreewhite’s voice was somber.

Marco was silent for several minutes.  “And you’ve saved my life too.  So I guess we’ve both done a favor for each other.”

“Our first favors for each other,” Kreewhite said.  “Let’s hope there will be many more chances in the future!” he laughed.

“There will be,” Kreewhite said.  “I feel it.  I feel that we are going to be arnelli.”  He spoke in a confident tone.

“What are arnelli?” Marco asked.

“They are people who are more than friends; they are companions and protectors and partners,” Kreewhite explained.  “We will be the first among my people to be arnelli with both a tail and legs!”

“Arnelli it is,” Marco agree decisively.  He knew he owed the merboy his life, and he liked Kreewhite immensely.  He didn’t even think about the fact that the boy had a tail instead of legs as they talked and swam.

“And where do you live?” Kreewhite asked.

“In the Lion City, among the humans.  I have a room under the pier.  That’s how I was able to sneak up on the sorcerer, though I didn’t plan to,” Marco answered.

They traveled on for a while more, and the sun started to set in the western sky.

“Kreewhite, could we go to that island?” Marco asked as he happened to catch a glimpse of a tree covered cliff off to the left, a short distance behind them.

“What island?” Kreewhite asked.   Marco pointed as Kreewhite turned, and the merboy’s motion ended as they floated to a stop.

“I didn’t see that.  I don’t know how we could have passed it without my noticing it,” he spoke in a puzzled, and indignant voice.

“I’d like to feel land under my feet for a little while.  Maybe we could spend the night there, or at least I might find something to eat besides fish,” Marco hesitantly suggested, wondering if there might be humans who could help him.

“Yes, of course.  We’ll go right there,” Kreewhite quickly agreed, and they began moving again, making a sharp turn to the left as they headed towards a new destination.

Chapter 8 – Isle of Ophiuchus

They swam towards the island, as the sun dropped swiftly towards the horizon, and the sky grew red.  The sun fell behind the island as their angle of approach changed, and suddenly Kreewhite came to an abrupt stop, nearly throwing Marco forward over his shoulders like a bucking horse.  The boy grabbed the merboy’s hair in his haste to hold on.

“What’s wrong?” Marco asked.  “Is there trouble?”

“Look!” Kreewhite said breathlessly.  He pointed at the island.

Marco looked for several seconds, then suddenly realized what Kreewhite was staring at.

The island was a small one, with quickly rising sides that rose inward towards a point high above the sea level, like a sharply-inclined hill, or the top of a mountain.  At the top of the mountain, was a rock formation, one that was backlit by the setting sun’s red-painted sky in the west.

The rock formation was in the shape of the profile of a beautiful woman’s face.  Her chin, her partially open mouth, nose, eye, forehead and hairline were all remarkably evident.  Beyond the profile though – even more remarkable – was the display of numerous openings in the stone below the profile.  The bright red rays of the sun shone clearly through the openings, illuminating their shapes for the two observing boys.  Directly below the woman’s profile was a perfect arrow, pointing upward to the woman.  Below that was an obvious crescent moon.  And around the moon was a constellation of five pointed stars.

“This is the enchanted isle!” Kreewhite said in a reverent whisper.

“Enchanted
isle?  You know this place?” Marco asked in an echoing whisper, awed by the extraordinary display.

“I’ve learned the legends of the isle,” Kreewhite answered.  “This is the Island of Ophiuchus.  His most sacred temple is on this island, and there is a sea grotto with a pool of miracles.  Everyone in our race knows the legends of the isle.  Do you mean you’ve never heard?”

“There is a cult of Ophiuchus in the Lion City,” Marco told him.  “But they’re small and stay to themselves.  I don’t know any of them,” he said, as a momentary image of the small temple of Ophiuchus, tucked away on a narrow, backwater canal, flashed through his memory.  “The mother church frowns upon the cults,” he added, “But they don’t seem to say anything bad about the followers of Ophiuchus.”

“Ophiuchus is a special patron of our people,” Kreewhite told Marco as they drew close to the shore.  Waves were breaking upon rocks at the base of a short cliff on the side of the island they approached.   Kreewhite began to circle around to the right, looking for a better approach to the shoreline.  “The island is supposed to be a place of special refuge for those of us in desperate situations.”

“I think we qualify,” Marco spoke up.

“There!” Kreewhite began to speed forward towards the darkening island.  “I see a cave entrance from the sea.  We’ll go in there.”

Marco held on tightly, suddenly frightened by the prospect of entering a cave on an enchanted island.  There was no telling what might await them within the cave, but he hesitated to say anything that might contradict Kreewhite’s obvious excitement.

They entered a narrow alley of dark water where the breakers crashed upon themselves in the confined space, then the pair went beneath the high, arching entrance to the cave Kreewhite had spotted.  The water immediately grew calm, and the sounds from outside were quickly hushed, so that the only sound was the echoing noise of their own passage through the water.

It was very dark within the cave.

Chapter 9 – Temple of Healing

The cavern became a watery passage through the stone bulwark of the island, an aisle that led into the dark interior, faintly lit by an inexplicable phosphorescence that glowed upon the surface of the water that Kreewhite slowly swam through.  The cave took a sharp turn, and a brighter light became visible in the distance, even though the water ahead of the pair was smothered under a layer of clinging mist.

“Where are we going?”  Marco asked.  “Do you think we should go any further?”

“I just wanted to get away from the shoreline,” Kreewhite answered.  “I thought this might give us an easy place where you could get onto the land.  Are you afraid?  Do you want to go back out into the sea and try to find someplace else to land on the island?  It will be getting too dark to see very well.”

“No, this is okay,” Marco answered, stung by the question of whether he was afraid.  He did feel afraid, with his injuries and inability to defend himself well, but he didn’t want to admit it.  He tightened his grip on the sword he still carried.  “Let’s go on.”

Kreewhite began to move forward, entering the mist, through which Marco could see nothing.  He suddenly felt as though he were in a heavy fog bank, unable to discern any forward motion while they were engulfed in the white mist.

“This water isn’t deep,” Kreewhite commented.

After only a couple of minutes, their enclosed world changed.

The fog ended abruptly, and so did the darkness, and so did the cavern.  Both boys gaped in astonishment around them as Kreewhite held a stationary position.

The roof of the cavern overhead soared majestically high above them, as the passageway from the sea opened upon a large, chambered pool, an extraordinary surprise within the solid stone heart of the extraordinary island.  Not only was the roof a great dome, but a series of small flames were emitted jet-like from opening
s overhead, providing the dim illumination that allowed the two visitors to inspect their extraordinary surroundings.

The water had a faint metallic odor, and it felt rich and creamy in an unusual way; Marco could tell that they were more buoyant in the warm waters within the chamber.

The stone walls that rose from the waterline were a smooth, perfectly round circle, broken only at the spot where a broad staircase rose from the water and climbed up into the stone.  Several feet above the water the smooth walls ended, and above them were a series of columns that surrounded the entire chamber, topped with decorative capitals that seemed to hold up the island overhead.

“I’ll take you to the steps and you can feel land for a change,” Kreewhite offered in a cautious tone, though he made no move towards the steps.

“What is this place?  Is this a merpeople temple?” Marco asked.

“I’ve seen temples, but I’ve never heard of anything like this,” Kreewhite answered.  He began to move slowly, taking his time to approach the stairway that led up into an unknown dark space behind the columns.  He stopped when they were just inches from the steps, then twisted his body so that Marco could easily slip off.

With a grunt Marco splashed off his friend and sat down on a submerged step at the bottom of the open staircase.  He carefully rose to a standing position, then stretched his muscles, raising his hands high overhead as he gave a great sigh of relief at the feel of standing on solid ground for the first time since he had been taken captive from the Lion City.  Even though his muscles and injuries ached from the activity, he maintained his embrace of freedom for several seconds, then looked around.

The underground temple appeared spotlessly clean.  There were no stains or marks on the steps, no signs that the divine space had ever been used or even touched by human hands.  Marco looked up into the darkness that enveloped the upper reaches of the staircase, which rose out of sight on its way to some unknown destination above.

Marco lowered his arms, then held the sword cautious before him as he looked upward before he began to limp upward.

“Where are you going?” Kreewhite asked.

“Not far,” Marco assured the merboy sincerely.  “I just want to see what is around here.”

“I can’t come up there to help you,” Kreewhite warned.  “Be careful.”

“I know,” Marco answered as he continued to climb, belatedly remembering that in fact his friend did not have legs. 

There was no evidence of any danger or potential harm, but each step nonetheless felt tentative, as though he were entering a space of great danger.  He reached the landing at the level where the stairs passed between the columns, and stopped to look at the balcony-like corridor that curved away to both the right and the left, running in a circle around the interior of the chamber just behind the columns.

After a moment’s hesitation he began to shuffle off to the right, and took five minutes to slowly circumnavigate the full distance around the chamber, coming back to the stairs without discovering anything on note.

“I’m not going to climb up the stairs any further,” he announced.

“Are you ready to leave?” Kreewhite asked.

“Maybe we could just spend the night here,” Marco suggested, not sure why the words blurted out of his mouth.

“Well, it is sheltered and seems safe, and you would be able to sleep on land,” Kreewhite agreed.  “We could go out in the morning in the daylight and see our way around the island to find some place you can do land-things if you want to, before we go on.”

“Where will we go on to?” Marco asked as he sat down on a step.

“To my homeland, I hope,” Kreewhite said in a tone that was both hopeful and wistful.  “If I can find it.”

“Will I be able to get back to my home from there?” Marco probed.

“I’ll do everything I can to make sure you do,” Kreewhite pledged, as Marco stretched out on the stone floor.  The surface felt cold against his bare skin, but he felt great relief as he lay down.

“I’m going to go back out into the sea and try to find some clues about where we are,” the merboy told Marco just as he closed his eyes.

“Will you be able to see anything in the dark?” Marco asked.

“It’s not a matter of seeing.  It’s feeling and tasting the water,” Kreewhite answered, and his voice sounded further away.  “I’ll see you in the morning Marco,” he said, and then there was a rippling sound, and Marco knew that his friend was gone, swimming freely without his passenger, probably enjoying the unfettered progress he could make.

The stone he was resting on gave a slight quiver, an unexpected tremor that surprised Marco into opening his eyes. 

The room had grown dimmer, and he noted that half the gas flames overhead had disappeared.

There was another tremor, and then the sound of crashing rocks, and more of the flames were extinguished, leaving little illumination in the watery chamber at all.

Marco felt afraid.

He sat up on the stony floor and looked around.  The chamber had a very faint vibration, one that he could feel as much as hear.  As he sat, looking up at the single remaining flame that appeared as a bright blue star overhead, the vibration seemed to change timbre, becoming less of a feeling, and more of a sound.  It seemed to rise in pitch, and he listened in astonishment as the sound grew slightly louder, more audible, and slowly transformed into a voice, maintaining a single clear note that seemed to be sung, and hung in the air of the dome.

“Marco,” the note stopped, the voice no longer sang, and suddenly the voice, a powerful, compelling voice, whispered his name.

“Marco,” it repeated.  “Are you the champion?”

“Kreewhite?” Marco called in panic.  “Kreewhite, are you still here?”

There was silence.

“Stand up if you are my champion,” the voice spoke.

Marco rolled and crouched in a kneeling position momentarily, then looked all around, trying to penetrate the gloom to find the person who was speaking.  There was no visible evidence of anyone, and he decided to stand.

“I am not your champion,” he called out in a quavering voice.  “I do not know who you are.  What do you want?  Who are you?”

“Come to me,” the voice, now sounding feminine, whispered in the still air.  “Climb the stairs and come up to me.  Let me look at you more closely.”

The word ‘look’ made Marco belatedly realize that he stood naked as he conversed with an unseen female, and he blushed as he began to squirm.

“Climb the stairs, Marco,” the voice spoke more firmly, the request becoming a command, and Marco responded by starting to limp up the stairs.

The stairwell was dark, and as Marco began to climb, the last of the flames in the ceiling of the dome fizzled out, leaving total darkness all around the frightened boy.  He hesitated, then raised his foot carefully, and resumed climbing the dark steps, feeling each step carefully as he moved further away from the watery chamber he had entered through.

After several minutes of climbing, he reached a flat spot, and cautiously stepped forward until his toes reached a solid wall before him.  He used his rusty sword to tap the barrier, and moved to his left along the wall, around a corner, and found that there was a dim glow ahead and above him, as another flight of stairs rose from the landing he was on.  The source of the glow was distant and indistinct, but in the light he could at least see the outline of the rising stairwell ahead of him.  With a sigh, he began climbing again.

Many minutes later he came to another landing, another empty, sterile hole squared out of the stone interior of the island.  The source of the light was there, a thin rectangle of light that outlined a door immediately before him.

“Open the door, and enter,” the voice returned, and startled him with its unexpected command.

Marco flinched forward, and the door gently wafted open from the slight contact his right fingertips made.  Inside was a long, narrow room.  The ceiling glowed with a bluish light, while the walls glowed with red.

The floor, however, was just as unusual.  It appeared to be a pit of quicksand, quivering of its own volition with constant small bubbles rising and bursting on the surface, as rings of ripples spread.

“What do I do?” Marco asked as he stood in the threshold.

“Walk through the room, and leave through the door at the far end,” the voice commanded.

“Can I?” Marco started to ask.  “Is it safe?”

“Do you trust me?  If so, walk through the room to the door at the far end,” the voice answered.

I
can’t trust you; I don’t know you
, Marco thought to himself.  But he had climbed the stairs already at the command of the mysterious voice, and something made him believe he could trust it; there was no note of treachery or deceit that his ears could detect.

He stepped forward, and his foot landed on a step
below the surface of the slushy liquid, warm and clinging, rising up to his knee.  He dropped down as he moved his injured leg to the next step, and as his foot left the dry floor behind, there was a buzzing current that seemed to run through him, and the lit walls flashed an intense burst of energy that made him close his eyes.

As he closed his eyes he lost his balance, and he fell forward into the pit, his arms
wind-milling wildly.  He felt the sword in his hand slice down into the water, striking the surface and cutting through it, careening off at an angle in response to the resistance of the heavy froth into which both the sword and Marco were collapsing.

The surface of the material closed over Marco’s head, and he dropped down until his chest struck a firm, unrelenting floor to the pit.  He coughed in the watery mixture as he pressed and kicked himself back upward.  His eyes were still closed as he felt his face pass through the strata of the contents of the pit – liquid at the bottom, gritty solids floating above, and a light, foamy top layer – before he returned to air and stood erect, coughing to clear his lungs.  The contents of the long, trench-like pit came up to his shoulder pits, and he lifted his arms, including the sword that he still clutched, upward above his head and outward; it had a strong taste and odor of minerals.

He lowered his free hand and wiped his eyes clear, then opened them, and saw that the lights of the walls and ceiling had returned, and the long room remained disturbing in appearance as a result of the interplay of the two colors.  He stretched a foot out in front of himself to test the unseen floor of the pit, then stepped forward, and cautiously began to progress.  He lowered both arms, and then swung his arms as part of his natural stride while he moved down the length of the pit towards the door that was his goal.

“What is this stuff?” he muttered as he moved.

“It is the bath of Ascelepius,” the voice answered. 

Informed but unenlightened, Marco reached the end of the pit, and stepped up the steep pair of steps that let him exit the moisture within.   The contents of the pit drained smoothly off his bare skin, leaving him feeling dry, as though he hadn’t been drenched.  He reached forward for the door, one hand holding the sword, the other ready to press against the surface of the metal portal, when he realized to his astonishment that both hands were healthy and whole.