Hammer 19: Silence

“Breathe, sir, please breathe. You are the Cor-Van and you must live to set the Cor free.”

Tsarek’s voice was hollow and distant. Corvan’s entire body felt heavy and unresponsive.

“Without you, the Kate will die.” The lizard rocked Corvan’s body so hard he pushed him on onto his side.

Water gurgled from Corvan’s mouth, but he couldn’t pull in a breath. His heart fluttered, his body arched, and he started coughing out streams of brackish water. Gasping for air, he managed to push off the ground on all fours, grabbing shallow breathes between bouts of retching and gagging.

“Thank you, sir, thank you.” Tsarek said as he patted Corvan’s head.

Finally, Corvan was able to get to a sitting position and choke out a few words between coughs. “What … happened? What … was that?”

“I think it is an offspring from the great water creature in the Cor, the Volisk. This one’s arms were long but not as thick and easier to burn through. Even a fire stick is no match for the body of a larger one.” He pointed to where a floating fire stick was casting its bubbling glow through the water.

“Was it your fire stick I saw under the water?” Corvan fell into another fit of coughing.

“Yes. They burn well under water.” He dropped the pair of unlit ones and waded out to retrieve the glowing one from the water.

A long, white tentacle rose to the surface and Tsarek gave it a poke with the burning end of the fire stick. The arm of the creature twitched, and the lizard sprinted for the shore.

Corvan continued to heave up water until his ribs and stomach ached.

“I burned through many of its arms, but they just kept coming,” Tsarek said as he pushed the glowing fire stick into a crack in the floor. “It was not until we came to this pool that I finally burned through that last one and it let you go.” Tsarek looked over his shoulder. “I only wish I knew where we are now.”

Corvan hunched over to suppress a new coughing fit but lifted his head to check out their surroundings. They were in a new cavern, one with a high ceiling and deep black walls. The pool was long and narrow, and there was no water coming in or going out. The surface was as smooth as a mirror with the limp arm of the water monster reflected in the shallows.

Tsarek looked at him. “I believe we are still in the labyrinth, but I am not sure how to locate the next opening or how to know if the Kate is nearby or if she has already come through here. I do not even know which level we are on or how many entries we skipped. This is not good, not good at all.”

The air here was much cooler, and Corvan shivered both cold, and fear. Would the rest of this adventure be this dangerous? They had just started out, and already he had nearly drowned.

“Oh, sir, I forgot you humans cannot tolerate the cold. I heard your mother say you might catch your death of cold.” He pressed his smooth, chilly nose against Corvan’s cheek. “Are you dying?”

Corvan tried to answer, but his teeth chattered too much to talk.

“You must not die so soon. I shall get you warm.” He jumped over to Corvan’s pack and yanked the top open. A clump of soggy clothes came free along with the slingshot. Tsarek tossed them to one side and dug deeper into the pack. “Here is something that is still dry.” He shook out the grey cloth from the chest and the still dry fireworks tumbled to the ground.

Tsarek let out a long hiss as he lifted the cloth and stared at it with wide eyes. “Only the master had one of these. He used it to walk undetected through the Cor.” He turned to Corvan. “When you wear this cloak, others see it for whatever is in their mind or whatever is around you. Did it belong to your past-father?”

“Wear it?” Corvan leaned closer and touched the fabric.

“Of course,” Tsarek stated. “That is why it has a hood and buttons, just like the rain jacket you sometimes wore.”

“If it belongs to your master,” Corvan doubled over and coughed up a bit more water, “is it an evil thing?”

“Oh no, not evil, but highly valuable. He will surely want to find it and take it away from you.” He draped it over Corvan’s shoulders. “You must wear it at all times, so he cannot find you.”

Despite the cold dread in his heart, Corvan’s body was immediately infused with warmth. Tsarek flipped the hood over his head, and Corvan breathed deeply. It felt like the air itself was being warmed by the cloak.

“If you do not like wearing it, I can look for other dry things.” Tsarek stuck his head inside the pack, and Corvan heard a muffled expression of surprise. The lizard emerged, holding the strange coil of rope in his claws. “Most incredible. I have never seen one so long and thin. There are tales of such that used to grow in the farthest regions, but I did not think them true. No one has been there for a long time. Where did you acquire a krypin such as this?”

“It was my grandfather’s. He left it for me in case he did not return.”

Tsarek’s face fell. “I am most sorry, sir. I should not be touching such things.” Tsarek dropped the rope at Corvan’s feet and moved over to the clothes. “The air is drier here so we must be getting closer to the Cor. Perhaps I should lay your things on the rocks to dry?”

“I have a better idea.” Corvan grabbed the rope. Pushing on the dark button, he ran the sticky disk out to the far wall, then tied the handle end off on a short pillar of rock near his pack. “There, a clothesline. Just like at home. You can hang up the clothes while I empty out the pack. I need to check on my food.”

Tsarek grimaced, and Corvan realized that the bundle with the lizard’s food supplies had been left behind at the upper pool.

“I should have enough food for both of us,” Corvan said. “Do you like canned beans? We can eat andlighten the pack at the same time.”

“I have never tried beans from a can. I could not make the thing you use to open it work with my paws, but I am grateful for your concern.” He began to hang up the wet clothes.

A low stone slab the size of his kitchen table lay just beyond his clothesline. Grabbing his pack, Corvan carried it to the stone table and began to unpack the soggy contents. The beef jerky in the side pocket was a little soft, but it would dry out. Amazingly, the wax wrapper around the cookies had kept the water out. He set the bag aside for later.

In the largest pocket on the front of the pack he found Tsarek’s wrapped bundles. Hopefully none of them would turn out to be a slimy gopher carcass. As he piled them by the pack, a small red Swiss Army knife tumbled out. His ninth birthday present that had gone missing when he left it out at the fort. Picking it up he glanced at Tsarek smoothing out his clothes on the line. “Finders keepers; losers, weepers,” Corvan mumbled to himself before wrapping the knife back up and placing it on Tsarek’s pile. At the bottom of the compartment, he found Tsarek’s musical crystal. Corvan stood it on the rock, stroked it lightly, and was startled by a soft, clear note that filled the cavern.

Tsarek’s head jerked up, and he rushed over. “Thank you, sir, but please do not attach it to the rock. I do not want to break it off again or the music will grow too faint to hear.”

Corvan tipped the crystal down, and the soft glow died away. Tsarek tried to gather all his bundles in his paws, but there were too many to carry. “Do you need a hand?” Corvan offered.

“No, no, I am fine,” Tsarek stammered, “I will just move my things over by the wall and dry them there. You do not need to help me, sir. I will come right back.” Tsarek hurried to the far wall but kept glancing over his shoulder. He sprinted back to the table, loaded up the rest, then ran everything back to the wall. With his back to Corvan, he pawed through his possessions. A sharp hiss echoed off the wall and he ran back. “One is missing. The one is not there!”

“Did you put something in another pocket?” Corvan said, turning to the pack.

“No. Please look again.” Tsarek leaped onto the table and poked at the front of the pack.

Corvan felt inside the pocket. Sure enough, a flat circle of cloth lay on the bottom. He pulled it out and noted it was warm to the touch. A corner of the cloth had unraveled from the edge of a flat disc with two silver points showing.

Tsarek snatched the object from his hands and quickly bound it back up. “Thank you, sir. That is the one I needed.” He bounded off the table with the bundle clutched to his chest. With his back to Corvan, he spent a while carefully rewrapping all his things.

Corvan shrugged. Crows and packrats carefully guarded their treasures, no matter how worthless they were.

Once Tsarek finished fussing with his belongings, he joined Corvan at the stone table. His eyes scanned the food laid out on the rock but he wrinkled his nose. Corvan picked out the driest piece of jerky and held it out to him. “Try this; you might like it.”

Tsarek smelled it a moment, nibbled then nodded enthusiastically. He took a larger bite. “It is very tasty. What is it?”

“Beef jerky. Dried strips of beef.”

“Much better than the small rodents. What is beef? It is easier to chew and no small bones.”

“It comes from the large black-and-white animals in the field next to ours, the cows.”

Tsarek bit off another piece of jerky, chewing and nodding. “Do all cows taste this good or just the black-and-white ones?”

“They’re pretty much the same.”

Tsarek nodded eagerly. “Had I realized, I would have eaten one of those instead of the small rodents.”

“You’ve obviously never been chased by a bull.”

“A Bull?”

“A male cow. It’s big and dangerous.”

Tsarek raised a claw. “One does not need to be big to be dangerous.”

There was a minute drop of yellow in a hollow at the end of the claw. Was Tsarek that upset about his missing silver disk? He must have been staring to intently as Tsarek quickly lowered his long claw, then took another bite of the jerky. “Thank you, sir, for sharing your provisions with me.”

“We could try some beans if you like.”

“Not yet. We need to be careful with the food. We do not know how long we will be here, where here is, or if there is a way out of here.”

“Do you think we’re trapped?”

“I do not know, sir. Permit me some time to see if there are any other passages out of here. It should not take long.” Tsarek scrambled away and disappeared into the dim recesses of the cavern.

Corvan nibbled at his jerky as he opened one button of his cloak to get more comfortable. He was getting too warm and the clothes under the cloak were almost dry. Somehow, the special fabric was able to pull the moisture away from his body, although his feet were still cramped and cold.

He picked up the soft slippers from his grandfather’s chest that were lying next to the pack and found they were also completely dry. “Probably made of the same stuff,” edhe said to himself. Dry, warm feet would be great. Unlacing his sneakers, Corvan kicked them off, then struggled to remove his wet socks. He was glad he made the effort for pulling on the slippers was like stepping into a warm bath after playing all day in the snow. The lightweight fabric contracted around his feet like a second skin, each toe showing distinctly through the soft material, like a pair of gloves but for toes instead of fingers. It looked odd but felt great.

Swinging his legs off the table, he walked about on the rough floor. He could feel every ridge through the smooth soles, yet the small pebbles and sharp rocks felt no different than going barefoot in the warm summer sand at Buffalo Lake. Whatever fabric they were made of it was incredibly strong.

Corvan headed in the direction where Tsarek had disappeared. The slippers gripped tightly on the rocky surface, and he jogged a bit around a corner and the light from the torch behind him vanished. It was so silent; he could hear water dripping off to one side and something rustling directly toward him. He slowed his pace just as his knees plowed into something that sent him toppling to the ground, scraping his hands along the rocks, and slamming the air out of his lungs.

“Do not move,” a hoarse voice croaked in his ear and a sharp point pressed into his throat. “In the name of the Chief Watcher, who are you and what are you doing here?”

Corvan tried to speak, but no sound came out. The fall had knocked the wind out of him.

“Answer me,” the voice rasped, “or I will kill you now. Who are you?”

Corvan managed to pull in a small bit of air, “Cor … Cor … Kalian.”

“Kalian?” The voice changed the gleam of Tsarek’s eyes appeared over his shoulder. “It is you! Oh sir, I am so sorry. I did not hear you coming. I thought I was being attacked by someone lying in wait for me.”

Corvan’s breath returned in a painful gasp.

“Are you injured? Can you stand?”

Corvan croaked out a weak, “Yes, I’m okay.”

The lizard helped him to his feet. “Let’s get you back to the light.”

Corvan followed Tsarek around the corner and back to the burning fire stick next to the stone table.

As they retraced their steps, Tsarek kept glancing at Corvan’s feet. “Where did you get those shoes, sir?”

“They were with my grandfather’s things in my room at home, so I brought them along.”

“Have you listened to your walking in them?”

Corvan held his breath, but all he could hear was the drip of water from the clothesline and the click of Tsarek’s claws on the floor.

They arrived at the table, and Corvan sat down wearily. “I didn’t hear anything.”

Tsarek crouched and examined Corvan’s feet while shaking his head in amazement. “Your shoes make no noise at all. I have very keen hearing and would have heard you coming, but I heard nothing until you bumped into me. These are very special shoes, sir. I have never heard of such a thing, but they must be a companion to your grandfather’s cloak. Maybe we should hide them away so nobody will notice them?”

Corvan pulled one foot onto the table. “For now, they are warmer than my wet sneakers. I can take them off once my shoes and socks are dry. They sure feel good.” As he reached to touch one of the silent slippers, a drop of blood fell from his fingertip to the table.

“You are hurt, sir. Please let me see if I can help.”

Tsarek gently turned Corvan’s hand over. A thick flap of skin had been torn back when a sharp stone had broken his fall. Bloody sand oozed out around the edges.

“We must clean it and bind it up. I will get a rag.” The lizard darted towards the far wall and unraveled a cloth from one of his objects. Running to the pool, he stooped to dampen it and then bounded back to Corvan. “Let me see your hand, sir.”

Corvan held out the bleeding hand. Tsarek dabbed tenderly at the loose piece of flesh. Corvan wanted to jerk his hand away but forced himself to remain steady as the lizard pushed his skin and tissue back into position.

“Please hold this in place while I get more cloth to tie it up,” Tsarek said. “It is in a bad place for healing very fast.”

Corvan’s hand throbbed as he pressed on the cloth. This hurt much more than burning his finger on the half dollar. Of course! Why didn’t he think of that right away? Freeing the hammer from its holster, he removed the rag and gingerly wrapped his wounded hand around the shaft. The end pulsed with a soft glow and his palm stretched and pulled, as if ants were crawling along the handle and using their pincers to close the wound.

The pain eased, then vanished along with the blue glow. Pulling the hammer away, he found only a faint line remained along with a smear of dried blood. Clenching and opening his fist, he noted that the skin felt a little tight in the center but he pain was completely gone.

Tsarek scurried up to the flat stone. “Here you are, sir. I have enough cloth strips to wrap your—” Corvan held up his healed hand. Tsarek stared then looked at the hammer in his other hand.

“It is very powerful,” Tsarek said, bowing and steeping back.

Corvan stood, but a dizzy rush caused him to sway and sit back down.

“You hammer has healed you, but you are worn out from all your troubles. You should rest here in your cloak and slippers, while I keep looking for a way out of here. I shall awaken you if I find a path to follow.”

Corvan nodded, pushed the pack to the floor, and curled up on the stone. Once again, using the hammer had left him incredibly tired.

He fell asleep in moments and in his dreams, Corvan found himself back at his home. He was lighting a fire in his backyard, and he could smell the matches as he lit them one after another. A pale white moon flickered behind him, bobbed along, and came to rest over the clothesline where his dripping T-shirts rippled in a cool breeze.

The moon swung closer, but when he lifted his head to see it more clearly, it bounced away and disappeared. The smell of matches came again, the light reappeared, turned blue, then oozed out of sight over the horizon.

Corvan smiled dreamily to himself.

How strange that the moon should have Kate’s face.