Becoming P.T. Lyfantod - 61
A serial fantasy novel
What follows is Part 61 of Becoming P.T. Lyfantod
If you missed Part 1, start there:
“We’ve come this far,” Merry grimaced. She went first, and Tom after. Then Iain and Stuart. I took up the rear.
The hole, perhaps the result of an earthquake, or a collapse, angled steeply downward. The walls snared and snagged. I could see nothing of my friends but shifting shadows in the failing light. And then I was emerging into an expansive room, the ceiling, lost in darkness, supported by rows of fluted columns like ancient trees. The floor of massive stone slabs rested at odd angles. The room’s actual size was a mystery, but judging by the scale I guessed it was immense. The howling, growling, roaring, rumbling cacophony, less muted than before, made me want to climb back into the wall. My friends stood stiffly, squinting out into the dark. But Lightfoot only waited till I’d set both feet on the floor before plodding onward.
It was immediately apparent whoever built this place hadn’t been involved with the construction of the rest. The workmanship was sharper, the lines straighter, the angles more precise. Water drip-dripped from somewhere high above, flashing now and then in the candlelight.
“I’d really like to know where we were going,” Iain said.
“Should we have weapons?” asked Tom. “We should have weapons.”
“You won’t need them.” Lightfoot didn’t look back. “Trust me.”
“Trust him?” Stuart whispered. “How are we supposed to trust him when he’s leading us into this? We shouldn’t have come. I’m going back—”
He’d already half turned when I caught his shoulder. “Even if you’re right,” I whispered,“there’s no way you’d make it on your own. You’d be lost down here forever. I don’t like it either…” I glanced at Lightfoot’s receding back. “But we’ve no choice but to trust him now.”
“But if—”
“Have a little faith.” I gave his shoulder a tight squeeze. “Things will turn out all right. I’m certain.”
Nothing obvious marked Lightfoot’s path through that vast room, but clearly something was guiding him. Now and then he’d stop and raise his candle, turn his head this way, then that. And after a minute or so, we’d be off again. The animal sounds came from every side, and my friends and I spent more time peering behind us than we did watching Lightfoot. Louder and louder they grew, till another wall rose up out of the dark, and in it a cave’s mouth; a natural opening with no place among all this orderly architecture. The animal voices were undeniably coming from inside.
Lightfoot beckoned us closer. “You’re wondering why we’ve come.” His voice was a near-whisper. “Now that you’ve completed the second trial, you’re one step closer to becoming a member of my order.” He paused, let his eyes drift toward the cave behind him, then back again. “Every member of the Order of the Brazen Horn, who is or ever was, has had an animal companion. A familiar.”
“Then… they aren’t monsters?” My eyes were fixed over his shoulder.
“Some would certainly see them so. And some are frightening. But it is not so simple as that.” He blew out his moustaches. “I cannot tell you much, because I know so little myself. I do not know if they have another name, or how this place came to be. But I can promise if you venture inside, you will return as more than you presently are.”
“What if we choose… not to go?” Stuart sounded small and frightened.
“The choice is yours,” Lightfoot informed him gently. “But all disciples of the Brazen Horn have familiars. There has never been an exception.”
“Oh…”
“It is a responsibility as much as a privilege, and the choice should not be made lightly. But in all my centuries, I have never met anyone who regretted making it.”
We looked at one another, and I was struck by how… unremarkable we were. Even Tom, athletic and handsome, and Iain, one of the biggest in our class, seemed woefully unprepared for whatever waited inside that cave. We stood opposite a hero, dead half a thousand years. Terrible noises echoed in the cave mouth behind him. We’d be fools to go any further.
“What do we do,” Merry asked, “once we’re inside?”
“I find it helps to sing,” Lightfoot answered, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “A… familiar song.”
Shoulder to shoulder we walked, back into the dark. Lightfoot waited without, already a distant silhouette. No one spoke. Not that we could have heard each other if we did. The cries grew frenzied. I couldn’t see my friends beside me. It was only through some primal intuition that I knew they were still there. The noise was a waterfall, pummeling. The air shook with it. Until, as suddenly as if someone had flipped a switch, it was gone.
And when I emerged from the cave sometime later—
“Wait. I’m confused,” Coira held up a hand. “Emerged sometime later? What happened inside?”
“Well, you see, we aren’t supposed to talk about what we—”
“Rubbish! You can’t build it up all this time and just skip the good part!”
“Yeah!” Rudy’s agreement echoed off the walls.
“I promise, it isn’t w—”
“No. Sorry. There are plenty of things that you could’ve skipped—”
“Like anything about books.”
“—but this isn’t one of them. Back it up.”
“You really are very pushy for someone so small.”
“It’s not about the size of the jaws, it’s about the strength of the bite. Now talk.”
“I… suppose it won’t hurt to tell you. Although I really shouldn’t. Just don’t go spreading it around, all right?”
“Fine, deal. Whatever.”
I stood in abject darkness. I could no longer see Lightfoot, or his candle. “Hello?” I called, in the manner people lost alone in caves have done probably since the invention of the word. Not even my echo replied.
It helps to sing, reminded the Lightfoot in my head, a familiar song.
A familiar song? That could mean… literally anything. It was a stupidly simple request, but somehow nothing came to mind. I shut my eyes and tried to concentrate. Not that it had any effect on my field of vision. A dozen random thoughts vied for my attention, none of them musical. Until, unbidden, a lyric presented itself.
If you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my friends…
“No.” I said aloud. “Absolutely not. The Spice Girls have no place here.” But the bloody jingle had its hooks in. Damn the radio.
If you want my future, forget my past. If you wanna get with me, better make it—
“No!” I won’t sing it. I won’t—!
Anything else. Anything else would do. I refused.
The antidote came just as unexpectedly. My mind flashed back to that morning, in front of the television, unable to sleep, watching a certain bumbling cartoon hound.
“Scooby Dooby Doo, where are you?
We got some work to do now…”
Was this really any better?
“Scooby Dooby Doo, where are you?
We need some help from you now.”
It seemed to be working. The voices of the various Spices were fading into the background. And… I could feel something happening. The darkness shifted around me. Swirled in patterns at the edge of sight.
“Come on Scooby Doo, I see you
Pretending you got a sliver
But you're not fooling me, 'cause I can see
The way you shake and shiver…”
I definitely wasn’t imagining things. I could see, though what I was seeing was still unclear. Like smoke drifting in reverse towards a lit cigarette, gaining coherence rather than losing it.
“You know we got a mystery to solve
So, Scooby Doo, be ready for your act
Don't hold back.”
Nearly there. I was in a building, that much was clear. Dimly lit, but still a far cry from the gloom I’d grown accustomed to. The lights were electric. The kind they used after the doors were shut the guests had all gone home. Dark cabinets. Polished wooden floors. High ceilings that might have been white. And—people…
“And, Scooby Doo, if you come through
You're gonna have yourself a Scooby Snack
That's a fact…”
I recognized Iain. Merry. Stuart. Their clothes were all wrong, yet oddly familiar. I glanced down at myself, still indistinct. Mine were different too.
“Scooby Dooby Doo, here are you
You're ready and you're willing.
If we can count on you, Scooby Doo
I know we’ll catch that villain…”
The scene solidified around me, and I gasped. “Stu, what are you—? And Merry? Oh my god…”
You fixed it :) At least you know I'm reading it and not just putting a like...
I know how you feel. I had a developmental edit done on my book, pricey to say the least, but then didn't have enough for copy editing.
Hey...second paragraph...you sure you want "feed" there? :)
Good chapter by the way...