Karadra's Shipwreck

The Island - Chapter 6

They marched laboriously through the jungle, but at least Arsik had two experienced guides with him now and didn’t need to be on constant alert for snakes, traps or whatever else the Gods threw their way out there.

The sun had climbed high in the sky and its rays penetrated through the thick canopies. As they walked, Maaro and Bark chattered in their language. Occasionally, they would say a few words to Arsik in Teyne and chuckle, but he ignored them.

They kept repeating the word “Sarabee”. From their expressions, Arsik surmised it meant something bad. When he asked, however, he received no enlightening answer.

“Sarabee, Berserker. Crone-bees. Witches,” they kept telling him with fear and awe in their eyes.

Arsik connected fragments of memories from endless nights in the taverns listening to all sorts of stories. Many a time had he heard the words “crone” and “bee” together in connection with the jungle, but he obviously hadn’t paid attention. Neither did he know what they were, nor did he want to know. All he was interested in was to avoid them, them and whatever else lurked out there, and be done with this mission quickly.

Stones appeared on their path – large stones and pieces of weathered granite covered in vegetation, marking the ruins of some ancient building.

We are getting closer.

Arsik felt a mild discomfort on his forehead. He licked his gums and tasted something metallic and salty. Spitting blood, he continued on.

Not long after, they emerged at an enormous clearing. The stone temple rose in front of them, scorched by the merciless sun – stones upon stones, small and large and massive, piled up and timeworn. The gigantic, inelegant structure looked like a primitive temple, an asymmetrical and crudely built pyramid. A black gate between the rocks served as its entrance. Roots sprouted from the earth and embraced the walls, leading visitors into its abyssal darkness. Bones, rusty weapons and frayed leather armors lay scattered near the entrance. The temple’s courtyard looked like a graveyard, a garden of loss and violence and despair that had soaked the ground.

Arsik regarded the temple as he would a great tomb. He had vowed not to die at sea, but now… he didn’t know. Maaro and Bark had stopped talking but seemed more nervous than ever. Arsik felt the urge to tell them “hang in there, lads” or something along those lines, as a captain would tell his crew on the eve of battle, but the urge to say “why don’t you piss off and die” was more powerful, so he kept his mouth shut. However, there was something else bothering him.

While the two warriors were focused on the temple’s entrance, Arsik kept looking over his shoulder. They had been followed; he was sure of it. He didn’t know the strangers’ identity or purpose, but there was no doubt about their presence.

At first, he’d thought they were additional warriors sent by the tribe – it would make sense, after all. In case of victory, they would reclaim the temple at once. Furthermore, they could be there to ensure Arsik wouldn’t escape into the jungle – he considered it many times, fleeing the coming battle by running and getting lost inside Sarathorn’s jungle, but his instinct wouldn’t allow it and he resigned to his fate.

Another possibility was that they had been followed by bandits or graverobbers, vultures that lurked in the shadows in order to snatch whatever broken and wounded emerged from inside – not a bad idea, after all.

Suddenly, it dawned on him.

Gold. Endless gold, amassed in piles in the dark, mountains of it. An abundance of aspiring warriors, saviors, fools who tried to face a monster and died in the process and all these treasures were still there!

“Berserker!” Maaro’s voice jolted him out of his reverie. “Are you ready?”

“Not at all,” Arsik replied, but his eyes said yes.

Maaro held his machete on his right hand and a boomerang on his left; Bark raised a spear with some kind of charm dangling from the tip.

Your wife will be mourning you tonight… Moron.

They arrived at the entrance. Maaro chopped off roots and branches to make it more accessible. Ahead, there was only darkness.

“Light fire?” Maaro suggested in a small voice and Arsik lost his temper instantaneously.

“No, no, you fool, we are quiet! Quiet, shhhh!” he brought his index finger in front of his nose. Ducking carefully with his knife in hand, he gestured to the others to follow his example and mimic the way he moved.

Every step deeper into the darkness was taken with caution and could mean their end, but Arsik would by no means risk a fire. He would rather test his luck against snakes, magic, weapons and whatever else there was rather than Medusa’s gaze, no doubt about it. He was trying to listen, smell and maybe detect something moving in the dark, but that was all he could do.

The long, stone corridor narrowed up ahead due to sharp rocks that suddenly appeared. They were forced to find their way around them by touch to discover the rest of the path. A draft indicated a possible opening at the end of this tunnel that led them to the heart of the infamous monster’s lair. There was no turning back now; they proceeded carefully.

The ceiling rose and the space opened up in front of them. Arsik felt the ground sloping gently downwards, like a shallow pit. Every couple of steps, he stumbled upon a new rock. Many times, he had to squeeze through them to move forward.

The absolute dark disintegrated. A faint shimmer became visible now, a pale, yellow light that allowed them to see a bit; shadows tremored and played in its wake. No fire or opening into daylight was the source of it – it had to be something else.

Gold. Infinite gold, entire mounds of it, so much gold it illuminates the room, Arsik thought, dizzy at how right he’d been when he suspected it before.

A soft sound from the depths of the cavernous space soon interrupted his thoughts; a shadow slithered past like quill on paper.

Panicking, Arsik backed quickly against the rock and shut his eyes. He lightly touched Maaro and Bark ‒who stood beside him as silent as ghosts‒ and pushed them to two different directions, planning to surround the creature if it really was where he estimated. That was their best chance, after all.

The warriors moved in the dark on opposite arcs, and Arsik stayed still at the same spot, trying to hear something useful. The slithering had stopped.

Suddenly, he heard loud breathing and footsteps, and then a shout. It was Maaro –he recognized his voice–, who lunged at something he sensed in the dark.

Arsik couldn’t help himself; he turned to look. At the back of the room, he saw a shadow running, its sword gleaming, and in front of it a silhouette moving strangely, as if both ends of the creature’s body were in motion.

The slithering sounded louder now, and he saw the shadow rearing back. Maaro raised his machete and then, light erupted in the temple, a blinding light followed by a powerful crack like thunder, as if a storm had been unleashed inside the ancient, sacred room. A lightning bolt came forth from the Medusa’s finger and struck Maaro’s body midair; he crashed on the ground, howling and convulsing. In that brief moment of brightness, Arsik saw her: a naked woman with round breasts, pale skin, a snake’s tail and a nest of snakes on her head.

In that same brief moment, Arsik saw something even more terrifying than Maaro’s instant death.

Statues. Dozens of statues around him, of people in battle stance, big and small, old and young. He saw their faces momentarily. Even the rock providing him cover used to be a person; the rocks obstructing the entrance too. Everywhere, lives lost, petrified for eternity, a horrible death.

Panic gripping him, he jumped for the exit, knocked his head on the rock and sprawled on the ground, groaning. He stood up right away and tried to hold onto something but realized someone had already grabbed onto him. Yelping, he slipped and drew his knife, but then heard Bark’s voice.

“No, no! Me, Bark!”

Arsik, barely avoiding stabbing him, dragged him along to hide behind the rock. Bark had seen what’d happened too, and now they both had made enough noise to alert the Medusa to their presence.

They waited, cloaked in shadow, an interval that felt like torture. The creature slithered around the room – coins scattered and rolled with their distinctive metallic sound.

She’s toying with us, Arsik thought, almost crippled with fear. He was sweating profusely, and his heart was a hammer on stone, counting beats till the end. He didn’t feel anger; only fear. Pure fear, and he felt Bark’s fear as well, along with his own quick pulse as he clung on his arm.

“Bark… Together, you and me. Attack, together… You understand?”

A grunt of doubt.

“Together, you shithead, we don’t have time!” Arsik’s voice grew louder and louder; he felt the rage tickling his forehead. “Together! Attack! Now! Now, I said! Let’s go kill that b***h! Go!”

His voice became a battle cry, Bark roared something along with him and, together, they ran helter-skelter in the dark towards the black silhouette.

Arsik tightened his grip on his knife. Bark, running right in front of him, raised his spear, yelling.

A moment later, Arsik collided with a stone and landed on his back on the ground.

Silence descended. He didn’t even realize how it happened. One moment they were running, one after the other, and the next a wall had materialized in front of him, and Arsik had crashed onto it at full speed.

Fumbling in the dark, he discovered handgrips on the wall. Woozy, he stood up. He found his knife again and stayed still, trying to see where the monster had gone and what had happened.

It took him a second to realize that the new rock was Bark himself, who had been turned into stone right in front of him. He did realize it though, and, hanging his head, he burst out crying, consumed by despair.

He couldn’t move anymore. Though very much still flesh and bone, his legs felt like stone already. He gripped his knife in his palm and shook from anger; the rage had reached his gut and settled there, awaiting its toll. Frustrated, he threw his knife away. It bounced against a number of rocks in the dark and found its way back to his hand.

There was the swift slithering again, coming from somewhere in the room… and Arsik got an idea.

Aiming for the spot where the creature should be, he threw the knife again in a wide arc. The knife ricocheted on the stones, carving a jagged course in the dark. The slithering sounded again, in a rush, and, suddenly, a female screech pierced the darkness.

The knife returned with its blade wet. It had found its target blindly. The slithering intensified, and he heard her moving restlessly. Arsik struck again – he hurled the knife with all his might and listened to the blade ricocheting on the stones at random angles. Another scream echoed, louder this time; a second injury and otherworldly female cry that made him shudder. The snakes on her head bristled and hissed. He could feel their forked tongues tasting the air for him.

Ever louder the slithering became. Arsik could roughly anticipate where she’d be and moved around the petrified Bark accordingly. He threw the knife again, more boldly, risking a brief glance at the room.

That was when he saw the light again. A second bolt of lightning illuminated the temple and the crowd of petrified faces, and Arsik saw the monster lifting her arm as it shot the bolt of electrical energy. Only, her target couldn’t be more off ‒ Arsik saw her clearly from a safe distance. Unthinkingly, he seized the opportunity and lunged at her. Loping over coins and stones, he raised his arm high, howling.

The Medusa turned towards him just as the knife was returning in his hand after its short journey. He crashed onto her body with tremendous force, pushing the blade deep inside her. They both tumbled to the ground, tangled, amidst wordless cries. Arsik’s head and neck and shoulders were racked with horrible pain as countless snake teeth ripped his flesh ‒ her hair had imprisoned him. He kept bringing the knife down, stabbing again and again and screaming alongside the creature. Her blood covered his forearm and clothes… until everything stopped, and she fell forward.

From one instant to the next, the snakes froze. Arsik crawled through a pool of blood and acid, unable to feel a thing. He got up, lost his balance and tried again. Finding his footing, he started running.

He couldn’t remember how many times he fell until he found the exit. Feeling the venom coursing through his veins, he touched his neck, where most bites were. He never saw the light; simply realized there was softer ground beneath his feet. He could feel fluid in his lungs, and his entire body was heavy, as if it were coated in thick glaze; burning all over as if he’d fallen in frying oil. He wanted to die; he wanted everything to be over, and it wouldn’t be long until it was, he could feel it.

Then, he could see in front of him. He had gotten out. Bathed in daylight, he crawled in slow motion, like he was wading through a viscous liquid.

People. He saw people up ahead.

He collapsed near them. “Help…” he groaned, fixing his gaze upon them before the darkness claimed him.

They hadn’t come from the tribe’s camp.