When he came to the actual end of the tunnel, he came to a tremendous underground cavern. Chris could neither see the far walls nor the ceiling, so he wondered how big the cavern might be. Then he heard something he had not expected—the sound of water, waves breaking on a shoreline, and it sounded close. He stepped into the light.
Two braziers stood against the stone wall, and the shoreline of some underground sea looked hardly fifty feet away. The water appeared black dark and hard to see, even with his night eyes, but at that point on the shore, it looked as if someone built a kind of dock made of stone. He looked over the water and thought there might be something out there, far off. He imagined it was not likely the other side of the sea, but perhaps an island of some sort. He squinted and tried to focus when someone grabbed him by the arms from behind.
“Got him,” a male voice said. Chris did not struggle, because he saw a female step into his line of vision, and for a moment her red hair appeared to be on fire, though otherwise she looked very attractive.
“Who are you?” The woman asked.
“Chris, and you?” Chris spoke as calmly as he could.
The woman looked young. Chris guessed her to be about his age or a little older when she cocked her head to get a good look at him before she answered. “Heathfire. And my companion is Broomwick.”
“Well, you must be good at sneaking up on people because I didn’t see you at all.”
Heathfire looked at Chris like he had to be dumb. “We were in the braziers. Duh!”
“I’m sorry?” Chris did not understand.
“Hey! We are supposed to be asking the questions. Now, where did you come from?”
“Home, originally,” Chris answered. “I came down the tunnel with Deathwalker. The troll road.” He pointed with his head.
“Deathwalker?” Broomwick slackened his grip, but he did not let go. Heathfire appeared curious as if she knew something, but it would not come together in her mind.
“Yeah,” Chris said. “I haven’t done anything if that is what you’re thinking.”
“Hey! You there!” The shout came from behind them.
“Chris!” Heathfire suddenly shouted. “You’re the Storyteller’s son.”
“I am?” Chris smiled as Broomwick let go and even took a moment to straighten out Chris’ shirt where he had wrinkled it.
“Sorry,” Broomwick said. “Just doing my job you understand. Guarding the wharf and all that. All okay?” Broomwick did not wait for an answer. He became a ball of flame and rushed back to one of the braziers while Heathfire laughed.
Deathwalker came up beside Chris and made sure no damage got done. He gave Heathfire a stern look, which she ignored.
“First stranger in a month and it turns out to be you, and we even knew you were coming.”
“Did he just go on fire?” Chris asked.
Heathfire nodded. “He’s a fire sprite. So am I,” she said. “I take it you’re human, mortal I mean.” Chris returned her nod.
“Now, young woman.” Deathwalker started, but Heathfire interrupted.
“Put it out, Gramps.”
“We need a ship.” Deathwalker finished his thought. “And young man, you might as well join us.” He spoke to the brazier and a flame face with a slightly worried expression stuck up for a second before it scooted away from the brass and took the shape of a burly young man.
“Sorry,” Broomwick said.
“You already said that.” Heathfire teased.
“No, I mean sorry. There haven’t been any ships in dock since that one, you know, took over.”
“That’s right.” Heathfire looked serious for a minute. “And no relief, either. I swear, if I ingest another faggot of charcoal I’ll up-chuck.”
“Charming thought,” Chris said. He wondered what a fire sprite might throw up.
Heathfire stepped close. She took Chris’ hand, and he felt a momentary spark between them which made Chris blink and Heathfire smile.
“Most guys think I’m pretty hot. What about you?” She looked at him in a way which only a fool could misunderstand.
“An understatement,” Chris said, diplomatically. Heathfire giggled, but Chris could feel the heat coursing through his hand.
“Ahem!” Deathwalker interrupted. “We need to get to the island of the castle,” he said. “Our mission is to set Lord Deepdigger free of his enchantment and set the women free as well, if possible.”
“Just the two of you?” Heathfire let go of Chris’ hand, stepped back and covered her giggle. “I mean, Kairos’ son and all, but still.”
“I’ll help,” Broomwick stepped forward. Chris looked at him. “Least I can do,” he admitted.
“Thanks.” Chris offered his hand.
“Me, too,” Heathfire said. She put her hand up like a real volunteer and let her eyes roll up toward the ceiling to suggest that she still thought they were crazy. “Maybe we can at least find something better to eat.”
“May I come?” All four turned to see an ugly old woman stand in the shadows by the sea. Chris did not understand, but Heathfire screamed, Deathwalker gripped Chris’ arm with something of an iron grip, and Broomwick rushed for the comfort of his brazier.
The old woman appeared to have risen-up out of the underground sea.
“Hag.” Deathwalker whispered the name of the thing, and as he spoke, the old woman cackled and began to change. She very quickly became seven feet tall and appeared to be covered with prickly, matted hair or fur. The monster looked incredibly strong. Chris especially did not like the way she or it drooled while looking at him.
“Stoked up.” They heard Broomwick’s voice behind them. “Football tackle,” Broomwick yelled, as he shot out of the brazier, a streak of flame, and set the creature on fire. To Chris’ dismay, far from being hurt, the creature seemed to revel in the flames, grew another foot taller and appeared stronger than ever.
“Football tackle.” Deathwalker repeated Broomwick’s words and yanked on Chris’ arm. To be sure, Chris would have rather run in the opposite direction, but he could hardly let Deathwalker tackle the monster alone. Deathwalker might have been far stronger than he looked, but he was not nearly strong enough to take down that beast alone; so, Chris ran beside Deathwalker, and together they bumped the beast while it was still distracted and reveling in the flames. It swatted them both aside like two troublesome insects, but it also lost its balance for a second.
A new figure, someone much bigger than Chris hit the off-balance beast, and though even the hulking person had only a little effect on the monster, it became enough to knock the beast over. The hag fell back into the sea and screamed at the last second when she realized she would hit the water. The fire with which the beast became covered, the fire that made the beast grow in size and strength, got doused all at once in a great cloud of steam, and the cavern filled with the agonizing screams of death. Chris could not tear his eyes away. Almost as quickly as the old woman transformed into the frightening monster, so now the monster changed back partially into the woman. Then the arms and legs, chest and face of the old woman collapsed and sank, in a sense imploded. It looked as if the bones and muscles which had once given the body shape had been liquefied and could no longer hold the skin to that shape. When it was over, Chris saw very little of the hag that remained afloat. He saw less than an oil slick on the surface of the water.
“My thanks,” Deathwalker said. Chris looked. Their help had not been Broomwick in solid form, and certainly not Heathfire who spent those few short moments trying hard not to scream again. This brute looked young, had fangs for teeth and claws for hands, but he grinned and shook Deathwalker’s hand, so Chris imagined he might not be too bad.
Storyteller Tales & Thoughts 