CHAPTER 23
he cramped entrance opened into a cavernous hall. Interwoven
tendrils of living stone formed seven staircases which curved up to
support a vast circular stage. More low archways, some blocked by
rusting gates, were set in the walls opposite the stairs. From
stone sconces, sulfurous green flames sputtered and sparked,
illuminating towering columns that curved inward, forming a dome
which was nearly obscured by drifting clouds.
Enoch Bloodwyn gently lowered Pearl to the floor and propped her up against the wall. Penny, who had been trailing quietly but resolutely behind them, lay down protectively in front of the little girl. Casey looked up at the raised stage and shivered.
“I’m worried about getting Pearl back home. Pike thinks that the people Malakaan brought here can’t return to our world.”
“It is unlikely that the Moquidin could successfully return to their old lives after spending time as shadowy denizens of Aaxicall.” Bloodwyn scrutinized the motionless Pearl with a critical eye. “I admit the little dear is a bit the worse for wear, isn’t she? But she doesn’t seem to have undergone any kind of transformation. Malakaan may have decided she was just too small to bother with. I’m not terribly worried. If Victor could manage a round trip burdened with artifacts, I shouldn’t find it overly taxing with a little girl and a few souvenirs.”
He pulled the journal out of his pocket and leaned against the serpentine railing of the nearest staircase. Casey stood next to Pearl, feeling his temper rise.
“Well, let’s go then,” he said. “What are we waiting for?”
Enoch Bloodwyn started up the stairs toward the stage. “This amphitheater is the very heart of Aaxicall. When the demigod was at the height of his powers, it must have been a sight to see. Come with me. We can leave your sister here for a while. She’s not likely to run off. I think we’re going to find several answers up on that platform.”
Casey had serious doubts about following Bloodwyn anywhere, but the man did seem to be sure of what to do, and no other plan had presented itself. He slipped the bag containing the precious bow off his shoulder and concealed it on the floor next to his sister.
“I have to go with him now, Pearl. Penny will keep you safe. I promise that I’ll come back and get you,” said Casey.
The stairs swayed slightly with each step he took, and hairline cracks ran through the ancient stone. Casey gripped the railing and avoided looking down as he climbed. The air had become heavy with mist, and raindrops pitted the dust that covered the stairs.
Green lightning surged, charging the atmosphere with electric tension and made it reverberate with a low rumble. The staircase lurched and a section of the knotted stone railing broke away under Casey’s hand and shattered on the floor below.
“Let’s go back, Doctor Bloodwyn. This whole stage might crash down with us on it.”
Casey glanced in Pearl’s direction. Penny stood at attention, fur bristling. Pearl was safe, but it was disturbing to see that she hadn’t reacted to the commotion.
“Malakaan is not going to smash his playroom,” murmured Bloodwyn. “Although I must say he’s doing nothing for the resale value.”
A second flash and a roll of growling thunder sent the staircase into another dance. Something in the shadows fell with a muffled crash. Casey stood motionless, eyes closed, listening to the soft thud of raindrops and the hiss of flames sputtering in the sconces. He was afraid to move, afraid even to breathe, but he knew he couldn’t just stand there forever with his eyes closed. As the shaking of the stairs subsided, he looked down to see if the step was in danger of giving way, and his heart leapt into his throat.
Winding up the staircase was a huge python, phosphorescent and ghostly white, its twisting muscle and bone clearly visible beneath translucent scales. Trapped on his precarious perch, Casey could only wait for it to go by, and try to resist the urge to panic as it brushed his ankles and trailed across the toes of his sneakers.
Casey’s voice was a whisper. “No eyes.”
“A troglobite. Creatures adapted to living in caves frequently have no eyes. They develop other odd characteristics as well…”
Bloodwyn’s voice faltered.
Doctor Bloodwyn’s voice held a faint tremor. Casey assumed he must be scared too, talking to buoy himself up like somebody whistling in the dark. He begin to inch his way back down the stairs, but Bloodwyn reached down and gripped his arm.
“No, Mr. Wilde, don’t run off. The show is just getting interesting.”
Six more glistening eyeless pythons were slithering up the other staircases. The reptiles crawled toward the center of the platform like seven spokes of a wheel. From out of the holes that covered the chamber walls came more pallid serpents. Heavy bodies curved down around the rocky pillars or simply dropped to the floor. They moved in a synchronized fashion, writhing together toward the stage as though their movements had been choreographed, guided by some intelligence to form a cohesive pattern.
The snakes converged on the platform, their supple bodies coiling tightly together. Like an octopus pushing upward with its tentacles, dozens of entwined snakes moved as one until the entire squirming mass was standing upright. They pressed into each other, melding together like the tangled branches of a vine. Fused serpents at the center heaved like a breathing chest. A ball of snakes at the top began to sink and swell forming the ridge of a brow, the line of a jaw. Ropes of snakes knotted into something resembling the muscles of arms and legs, hands and feet. Flickering tails formed toes and fingers.
Dozens of serpents merged into one immensely tall, powerfully-built man. Where they had melded together, raised lines formed a pattern of ornamental scars that curved and spiraled across every inch of hairless and translucent white skin. The massive bald head was bent forward, face hidden in shadow. A series of triangles notched the upper ears. Round holes cut into the lobes held flat silver discs, and heavy silver cuffs circled wrists and ankles. Around his throat, a necklace of human fingers writhed and clicked like blind beetles bumping about in the dark. Draped around the slim hips was a breechcloth richly embroidered with silver thread.
The powerful head tilted revealing a glint of green below a sharply protruding brow. Where eyes should have been, the flickering emerald flames flashed against two polished onyx balls set into empty eye sockets.
Enoch Bloodwyn took a step closer pulling Casey roughly along.
“Mr. Wilde, I believe you have already met our host. I imagine he would like to say hello.”
“Are you crazy?” gasped Casey. “That isn’t Malakaan.”
“Oh, but it is, my boy. Malakaan is a shape shifter. That peculiar talent explains why some stories describe him as a warrior while others portray him as reptilian. Here, in what is essentially his throne room, he takes on his more regal appearance. He becomes the monstrosity we saw earlier when he’s on a rampage.”
Malakaan stood motionless and magnificent. The only indication that this was a living entity and not an ivory statue was a slight quivering, a serpentine wriggle beneath the translucent skin.
Enoch Bloodwyn had recovered the veneer of snide superiority and nonchalance that was his social armor. “Now, let’s see if I can do a little bargaining.”
“So this is the point where your noble rescue mission deteriorates into gold-digging.”
“Mr. Wilde, I am an archaeologist,” said Bloodwyn patronizingly. “It would be a disservice to the scientific community…to the entire world, if I just grabbed poor little Pearl and ran back to Vermont without attempting to retrieve some of these treasures.”
“And you plan to communicate with that hideous thing?” asked Casey. His eyes darted toward Malakaan and then back to Bloodwyn with undisguised contempt. “So you speak Monster? Well, in a way, that does make sense.”
“Very amusing. If you survive this little adventure, you should consider a career in light comedy. No. I do not speak Monster, as you so delightfully put it, but I do speak a variety of extinct languages. Judging by the individuals who have just now joined our host, I don’t foresee too much trouble in making myself understood.”
At the edge of the raised platform, four horrific men now waited for commands.
Casey inhaled sharply. “Are they demons?”
“I think not. They are just men. Ugly men, perhaps. Dangerous men, certainly. Not the sort of person you’re likely to run into at the Whistlebrass miniature golf course. Note the masked gentleman on the far left.”
Bloodwyn nodded his head toward a powerfully built man who stared back at them through reptilian slits in a hammered copper mask.
“He is undoubtedly a priest of the Zemotenk, notoriously warlike people who migrated through South America. They vanished over eight hundred years ago. Apparently someone was ready for their attack, or maybe Malakaan wiped them out. They seem like the type of worthy adversaries he might choose.”
“That grinning mask is really creepy,” said Casey.
“That ravenous smile isn’t part of the mask,” said Bloodwyn. “It actually is his mouth with teeth filed down into points.”
“What happened to his lips?” Casey whispered in horror. He felt his insides turn to jelly. No lips hid the stained and grinding teeth. A continual trickle of saliva trailed down through his fangs and dripped onto his chest.
“As part of the passage from acolyte to priest, he would have removed his own lips in a rather grotesque ritual. That way, his fangs would always be in sight to shock his victims.”
“It works on me,” whispered Casey.
The second man stared directly at Casey with a quizzical expression in his dark eyes, as though he were someone he thought he recognized, but couldn’t quite place. Heavy necklaces of beads and horn draped his shoulders. Powerful arms were extensively inked with undulating lines snaking toward clenched fists, so solidly tattooed with blue-black that he appeared to be wearing leather gloves.
“I see you’ve noticed our Kokinoke friend,” said Bloodwyn. “He seems to be fixated on you, Mr. Wilde. The beaded symbols on his buckskin clearly identify him. He is undoubtedly an important warrior.”
A line of concentration furrowed Bloodwyn’s brow.
“From the shape of his head, I believe the third character is a Molemec. Like the Mayans, the Molemec people purposely altered the shapes of their skulls with rather startling results.”
One glance was enough to make Casey quickly avert his eyes. The Molemec’s elongated head was nearly cone shaped. A raised whitened stripe began at the pointed top of his skull and ended between scowling black eyes.
“And finally, we have what appears to be an Innahook. Our voracious demigod was quite a traveler. He would have to have been rather far north to have snared this particular prize."
The Innahook was massive, a bull of a man who radiated ruthlessness and brute strength. His ragged sealskin hood shrouded a craggy face. Casey could feel the intensity of his stare, even though his eyes were hidden in folds of tattooed flesh.
“This foursome may represent the most vicious examples of mankind to be found at the corners of Malakaan’s realm as yet another way of demonstrating his power. Merciless scoundrels like these would have bowed to no one, and now they are forced to stand in attendance. I think that I can communicate with two of them, and possibly three. They can pass on the information to Malakaan.”
Enoch Bloodwyn walked purposefully toward the demigod and his minions, bowed graciously, and dropped to his knees like a knight before a king. With his forehead nearly touching the ash coated floor of the ceremonial platform, he paused for a moment and then barked out a few words in an ancient guttural language.
Malakaan tilted his head, and instantly, the Zemotenk priest, the Kokinoke warrior, the Molemec, and the Innahook were at his side. As Bloodwyn drew a row of pictographs in the dust, the menacing figures before him watched closely and made a few gruff sounds. Bloodwyn barked out more strange words, and drew another symbol.
Casey backed down the stairs and positioned himself protectively in front of Pearl. He wondered if the Kokinoke warrior and the others were the monster’s captives, or if they had willingly joined forces with him.
Malakaan held out his arms, green sparks crackling in his palms. Mist swirled around his feet and spread outward across the floor. The Zemotenk and the Molemec began to sway rhythmically, stretching and bending in impossible ways. Color drained from their skin and hair. Their faces melted like wax, and they gradually took on the dark iridescent shimmer of the living shadows. Seconds later, the Innahook howled as his own transformation began. The Kokinoke warrior stood rigidly, his powerful muscles knotting and fists clenched.
“They’re fighting it,” he thought. “So they do hold on to an element of their free will.”
Pain tightened the Kokinoke’s chiseled features as he ran to the edge of the platform and leapt into the air. He landed directly in front of Casey, his back to the stage. Penny’s fur bristled and she began a low warning growl. The warrior raised a hand and rumbled out a few strange words. The growling stopped and the Saint backed off. She trusted him. The Kokinoke pointed to the floor. The tip of the bow had slipped free from the buckskin case.
“It’s for you, isn’t it?” Casey sputtered. “You’re supposed to get the bow.”
The warrior shook his head and pointed at Casey. Then he gestured toward the bow.
“Me? No, It’s not mine. It must be for you. What can I do with it?”
Within seconds, the wailing of the Moquidin on the stage had become earsplitting. A bewildered Bloodwyn, still on his knees, stared over his shoulder at Casey and the warrior. Malakaan held out his arms together. A ball of deadly green fire appeared, sputtering in his cupped hands. It burned with the same sulfurous rotten-egg stink as the flames in the sconces
Thunder ripped the air apart as the fireball hit the Kokinoke’s back, and enveloped him in a crackling green cocoon. He collapsed backward as his body disintegrated, falling into clumps of gray ash on the chamber floor.
Malakaan, surrounded by the remaining members of his shadowy court, turned his attention back to Enoch Bloodwyn. The Moquidin swayed and sang, relaying Bloodwyn’s comments. Malakaan waved his hand and glowing symbols appeared, burned into the rock.
Casey wondered if he could lift Pearl and get her out. There was no way to know which, if any, of the dark corridors that led from the room might offer an escape route. Malakaan stood in the center of the stage, statue still once more, the rhythmic beating of his heart visible through his translucent skin. The three Moquidin were positioned behind him, wailing and twisting in their endless nervous dance. Enoch Bloodwyn bowed again to Malakaan and his shadowy court and sauntered confidently down the curving staircase.
“Mr. Wilde, you do have spirit, no doubt inherited from your mother, and not from that dishrag she married,” said Bloodwyn. “Without you, I might never have been able to make this journey. My quandary is how to get what I want back to more familiar surroundings. An interesting game, and, as before, your presence is the card I need to win this hand.”
“Why would I help you snatch more treasures? You don’t care what happens to us.” Casey slipped the buckskin case over his shoulder. “I’m going to try and get Pearl back to the portal. From there, I can figure something else out. I have to.”
He reached down and looped one arm around Pearl’s shoulder, slipped the other around her waist, and hoisted her up. Pearl flopped against him like forty awkward pounds of sand, knocking him off balance. He managed to hold on to the girl, but as he stumbled backward, the Kokinoke bow slid out of its case and landed in the dust.
The entire amphitheater was suddenly silent. Bloodwyn stepped closer, but Penny moved forward, baring her teeth, and he stopped in his tracks. The lines of Bloodwyn’s angular face grew hard, and Casey could practically see the wheels turning in his head.
In the center of the stone platform, the wailing of the Moquidin began again, more relentless now, rising and falling with a new insistence. They had seen the bow and were urgently telling their master about it. As Casey and Bloodwyn looked up, Malakaan stepped slightly back. A nearly undetectable movement but they had both seen it.
You are afraid, thought Casey. But why? I don’t have any arrows. I could hit you with the bow, but what good would it do? I might as well smack an elephant with a fly swatter.
Bloodwyn didn’t know why Malakaan and the Moquidin were reacting so strongly, but the intensity of their response was undeniable. “If that Kokinoke bow is important, I believe it’s something I should be in charge of.”
He swiveled and lunged, making a grab for it. Penny clamped her jaws firmly down on his outstretched wrist. Bloodwyn jerked backwards, hitting the staircase and scraping his back against the rough stone. Keeping a tight grip on the bow, Casey moved closer to Pearl. Hackles raised, Penny growled and paced back and forth like a lioness keeping an enemy at bay.
“You want Malakaan to release your sister, don’t you? I was attempting to bargain with him and convince him to do just that,” said Bloodwyn. He stood up, wiped his hands on his jacket, and ran his fingers through his hair. The anger had drained from his face, and his voice became a chilly whisper. “But one always needs a bargaining chip. That chip, my boy, has turned out to be you.”