The Hammer - Cor Series Book I

The matter-of-fact tone of the lizard’s voice shocked Corvan. There was no way he would leave Kate under the control of the black band and lost in the caves underneath the Castle Rock.

“We must help her, no matter what it takes.” Now his own voice gave him pause; it sounded more like his father was speaking.

“If we do not try,” the lizard stated, “all will be lost. If you stay here to protect your world, you may lose it anyway.”

“Why? What’s going to happen to my world?”

The lizard studiously scratched at the dirt with one of his claws. “It will depend on our success in rescuing the Kate. It is best now to focus on that task.”

“I’ll need to bring food, but I could never carry enough for a month.”

“There will be food once we reach the boundaries of the Cor, but there is none in the labyrinth. I think you will only need enough for six of your days.”

“What’s the Cor?” Corvan asked.

“That is where the Kate is going, but we must get inside the doors quickly to follow her. Will it take much time to pack your food?”

“Not long. Wait for me up on the rock.”

The creature glanced to the east. “You must hurry. I cannot be outside once the sun is in the sky, and we waste time talking.”

“I’ll be right back.”

Corvan sprinted toward the house. Should he wake his mother to let her know what had happened? His pace slackened. She would never believe a story about a talking lizard. It would be best to leave a note telling her he’d gone to find Kate. That would cause her the least amount of worry when he didn’t return right away.

Once he reached the familiar outline of his home, he paused with one foot on the porch steps and looked back at the rock. He was not ready to leave his home, but Kate was in great danger. He had to save her.

The interior of the house was deathly silent; even his mother’s snore was missing. He stood still, waiting until he heard faint measured breaths from her room. She never slept well when his father was away. He would need to be especially quiet.

Retrieving the hunting packsack from the front entry, he shut himself inside the pantry, lit a candle, and dropped the pack of matches into the front pocket of his jeans. He filled one of the side pockets of the pack with jerky, and he stuffed tinned food, bread, and candles into the main section of the pack. Moving a box of Corn Flakes, he discovered a reused plastic bread bag that was half-full of oatmeal raisin cookies. It fit neatly into one of the side pockets. An unexpected bonus was finding a package of chocolate chips inside an empty tin of baking soda. His mother knew better than to leave those out in the open.

Sneaking up to his room, Corvan set the pack on the bed, opened the chest, and pulled the gray cloth off onto his lap. There was a longer empty cavity at the very back of the tray he had not noticed before. It was about the length of the wooden case his father had shown him on the rock. If that item was now inside the box, it was likely stashed under his parents’ bed. He couldn’t go looking and risk waking his mother. Hopefully it was not important.

Corvan considered the metal book, but since he couldn’t read it and the lizard was a bit too interested in it, he decided to leave it in the chest for safekeeping. He released the rope and tossed it into the packsack. In the next indentation, the slipper-like shoes were held in place with two stretchy cords. He pulled them out to find they were more like thick socks. Since his own socks were rather thin, he tossed them into the pack. Having warm feet was important, and it was likely cold under the rock.

The gray cloth cover was warming his legs, and he rolled it up and added it to the pack. Closing the chest, he added three T-shirts into the pack and then jammed his slingshot on top. He tied the pack cover in place, and when he hoisted it onto his shoulders, he let out a groan. How would he ever manage to carry this much weight around in the caves? But how could he know what the journey would require? He would need the lizard’s help to lighten the load as soon as possible.

As he straightened up, the frame of the pack pushed hard against the hammer in his back pocket. He needed a better way to carry it, and he had the perfect solution.

He set the pack on the bed and bent down to pull out his army ammo box. His mother insisted he keep anything that might cause a fire in the stout metal box. He dug past an unopened packet of Black Cat firecrackers, three stubby bottle rockets on short bamboo sticks, a roman candle, and a metal waterproof tube of matches before he found it: his Hubley Trooper cap pistol with the Texas star on its holster. He had quit wearing it years ago, after the other kids started calling him Tex and Billy mocked him by saying he should be carrying a bow and arrow instead.

Putting the cap gun back in the box, he threaded the empty holster onto his belt. The hammer slid inside, handle down, as if it were made to order. Corvan snapped the top flap over the head of the hammer, stepped in front of the mirror, and in one fluid motion released the hammer and pointed it at his reflection. He had practiced that maneuver a thousand times with the pistol and was pleased it worked just as well with the hammer.

He was going to put the explosives back in the ammo box, but you never knew when you might need a bright flash or a loud noise. He wrapped the gray cloth securely around the fireworks to make sure nothing went off accidentally.

Tying the pack shut, he hoisted it onto his shoulder and glanced around his room. A strong sense that he might never return to his home struck him as he flipped the light switch and closed the door.

This time, he remembered to avoid the noisy stair, but with the added weight of the pack, his evasive tactics still resulted in a muted squeak. His mother mumbled in her sleep, and the bed springs groaned as she rolled over. Seizing the moment, Corvan tiptoed down and scooted through the kitchen.

After easing the back door open, he let it close softly behind him. As he turned, a voice spoke from the armchair.

“I watched you sit here through the night with the hammer in your hand, but I do not see the advantage of placing one’s body in this.” The lizard pushed itself out of the chair. “It seems designed merely to keep one awake. It hurts the tail.”

Corvan frowned. “I told you to wait for me on the rock.”

“I was worried you might be late. I was considering coming inside to find you,” the lizard said.

“I’m glad you didn’t. The sight of you would have been too much for my mother to handle.”

“Sir?” The lizard had a gravely wounded expression.

“It’s nothing personal. She just doesn’t like snakes.”

“But I’m not a—”

“I know, but she’s not fond of lizards either.” He pointed out at the rock. “Let’s get going.”

“Gladly, sir,” the lizard said in a huff. “It is well past the time to leave.”

“Just a minute.” Corvan crept back inside the kitchen and found a pencil and paper by the telephone. He jotted a short note telling his mother he was going to look for Kate and not to worry. At the bottom, he wrote his name, Cor-Van, with a tiny hyphen. That way his father might understand where he’d really gone.

Once he set the note on the shelf under the phone, he had to blink back the tears and force down the emotions that threatened to engulf him. He squeezed out the back door and descended the porch stairs with the lizard following close behind.

“I believe your belongings will be too large to fit through the labyrinth. Some of the openings are quite small.”

Corvan kept walking. “I grabbed everything I thought I might need. It will get lighter as we travel and eat the food.”

“Is it heavy for you?” the lizard asked.

Corvan straightened his back. “I’ve carried more than this before,” he replied, but he couldn’t think of when that might have been.

The dark bulge of the rock loomed ahead. Corvan attempted to leap onto its steep edge but misjudged the added weight of the pack and crashed back to the ground. The lizard’s head appeared above him with an “I told you so” look on its narrow face.

Corvan rolled over onto his knees. “I guess it might be a bit too heavy,” he said quietly. “Maybe once we’re inside, we can go through it and decide what to leave behind.”

The lizard didn’t answer, but Corvan thought it rolled its eyes before darting up the rock and into the circle. Heaving himself to his feet, he clambered up after it and reached the top, where the lizard was waiting for him at the door.

“Light is coming, sir. We must get inside.”

“We have a few minutes.” Corvan put his pack down by the stone door. The circle of rocks around him appeared as mute sentinels against the thin gray light of the approaching dawn. A brighter light came on in the kitchen below him, and through the window, he saw his mother go to the sink. He lifted his hand to wave goodbye. She couldn’t see him, but it made him feel a bit better. She turned away, and the kitchen light went out.

He turned back to the lizard and found a questioning look on its face.

“Why do you raise your hand and shake it back and forth?” the lizard asked. “I have seen others do this. What is the meaning?”

“We are saying good-bye.” The lizard looked at him, expecting more. “When we are leaving someone, and we don’t know how long it will be before we see them again, we wave.” He swallowed hard. “It means that we love them and hope we’ll see them again soon.”

The lizard nodded. “We do not wave.” It shook its head sadly. “Love is not permitted when you serve the master.” The lizard studied him for a moment before he jumped over to the pack. “We must go now. Once the light comes up, the first door into the labyrinth cannot be opened until the next phase of the moon.” It wrapped its claws around the strap of the packsack and tried to move it closer to the door, but the heavy pack refused to budge.

Corvan stooped and slung it onto his back. It seemed significantly heavier this time.

“Sir,” a voice spoke at his back.

Corvan turned around, but the lizard was gone.

“I’m here, sir.” The voice came again and something poked Corvan’s side. Twisting sharply, he found the lizard hanging above his waist.

“My claw appears to be caught in your belongings, sir,” the creature stated flatly.

Corvan chuckled as he set the pack down and unhooked the lizard.

Free from the pack, the lizard frowned at him. “I do not understand that noise you just made. I heard it before when you and the Kate were together.”

“I was laughing,” Corvan said. “You looked funny hanging there.”

The lizard shook its head and looked over its shoulder at the growing light. “Is the hammer ready?”

Corvan slipped it from the holster. “It should work when I put the handle in that keyhole between the rings.” He pointed the handle forward.

“Stop!” The lizard darted in front of him to bar his way to the door. “The power of the hammer flows through your body. The door will open even if your feet touch the stone. That is what happened when the Kate stepped on the doors—they opened, and she fell, throwing her arms up, like this.” The lizard mimicked the motion. “The small case with the hammer inside flew from her hand, bounced off the big rock to the doors, and they closed very fast. I grabbed the case and carried it away as you approached.”

No wonder Kate’s scream had been cut short. “How long does it stay open once you touch it?”

The lizard briefly pondered the question. “I think until you touch it again. It shut when the hammer dropped on it from this side. The Kate was fortunate to not get hit. It closes swiftly.”

“Let’s test it and see.”

Corvan set his pack down before he tentatively touched the stone. A low rumble echoed below him, but nothing moved. “Well, that didn’t work.” As he leaned forward to test it again, the door sprang apart. The lizard pulled him back from the open hole.

“That’s incredible. Does it work the same to close it?”

Corvan leaned forward and touched one finger to the exposed edge of the door. All was silent.

The lizard was hissing and clicking. Corvan looked at him. He was pointing at the ground where the hammer lay dangerously close to the edge of the door in the dirt. Corvan’s face flushed, and, as he picked it up, his free hand brushed the frame. The doors slammed back together with the ferocity of a massive stone mousetrap. He looked up into the wide eyes of the lizard. “How can I possibly get inside without being crushed?” Corvan stammered.

“If you open the door and then drop the hammer inside, you will be able to climb in safely. I will go first, and you can follow. I suggest you toss your belongings in after me to avoid them getting caught on the door.” The lizard gave the eastern sky another quick glance.

Pulling the pack in close beside him, Corvan exhaled slowly. He then placed his hand on the stone.

The doors rumbled open, and the lizard leapt into the blackness.

Corvan called, “Heads up,” and threw the pack. It hit the ground below with a thud. Edging forward, Corvan held the hammer out over the hole. “I’m going to drop the hammer in now.” No response. “Here comes the hammer.” Silence.

Was this a trick to get the hammer inside with him still locked outside? Maybe if he held the hammer and jumped in without touching the sides, he could shut it from below. He brought his feet together with his toes just inches from the doorway, and it reminded him of the time he jumped off the high diving board at summer camp. That time he’d ended up in the infirmary.

Ignoring the warning thoughts, Corvan jumped forward and landed amid a pile of jumbled rocks. He stumbled, and his fingers touched the inside of the door frame. The massive slabs came back together with a resounding thunder that grazed the back of his head.

Falling to the ground in the choking dust, his head came to rest against the coarse canvas of his packsack. It was so dark that he couldn’t even see his empty hands in front of his face. Empty! Once again, he had dropped the hammer. He felt around on the floor with panic rising in his throat. What if the lizard was waiting in the darkness? Were its razor-sharp claws ready to tear out his eyes?

“Are you down there … lizard?” Again, there was no reply.

He crawled, fumbling around the ground until his groping hand encountered a round handle, but it was just a short, thick stick. He needed light. He pulled the box of matches from his pocket and struck one. It sputtered to life.

He tilted it down and waited for it to catch.

As he held it aloft, he came face-to-face with the empty eye sockets of a human skull.