The Hammer - Cor Series Book I

The match sputtered and singed Corvan’s fingers as it died out.

In the darkness, the rhythmic click of claws on rock approached. A spark of light expanded to a dome of brilliant white flame. As Corvan’s eyes adjusted to the harsh light, he saw it came from the end of a longer stick that the lizard carried. The creature cocked his head to one side and pointed a claw past Corvan.

Corvan turned back to find the hammer lying amid the ribs of a human skeleton. The skull was looking directly at it in what seemed like wide-eyed disbelief. His first thought was that he was seeing the remains of his long-lost grandfather. Is this where his grandfather had died? Had the door closed on the hammer and trapped him under the rock?

Corvan gingerly plucked the hammer from amid the bones and rotting garments. He had never been this close to death, and it unnerved him. A piece of mildewed cloth fell from the ribs to reveal the letters IPC embroidered in red thread. IPC was the bankrupt mine with deep bore problems in his grandfather’s newspaper clipping. His grandfather had never worked at that mine, only for the Red Creek Mine. Who was this person? And how had they come to be trapped here? Was there a connection between the caves the lizard was talking about and the now abandoned IPC mine further down the river valley?

A shiver ran up his spine. It must have been terrible to die so close to being free.

“How long has he been here?” Corvan asked in a shaky voice.

The lizard tilted its head to study the skeleton as if seeing it for the first time. “From since I have been guarding the door.”

Corvan slipped the hammer back into the holster and fastened the snap. “How long have you been guarding the door?”

“Before you were born. I have lost count. It has been a long assignment, and a tedious one.”

Corvan looked back at the skeleton. It sounded like this person had died long before his grandfather had gone missing, but how would an IPC miner ever get all the way over to the Castle Rock?

“What was your assignment?” Corvan asked.

“I am a Watcher.”

“What are you watching for?”

The lizard’s eyes darted about. “For those who might try to enter our world … or leave it. I am to report anything I see back to him.”

“Who’s him?” Corvan asked.

“No more asking,” the lizard snapped, but then immediately it bowed to the ground. “I am sorry, sir, but my service is a painful memory.” He paused. “I would prefer not to speak of it anymore. Please, come now, we must prepare to make our way through the labyrinth.” The lizard turned away and moved off down the low passage.

Corvan followed, crawling over the rough floor and dragging the packsack. “Are all the caves this small?”

“Most are larger, but sometimes the passages between them are smaller.”

The ground slanted steeply down, and Corvan took to sliding after the lizard. If his sense of direction was correct, they were descending below the western slope of the Castle Rock. Soon the tunnel became less steep, turned back on itself, then opened up such that Corvan could stand upright. They had to be directly under the Castle Rock. With this much solid granite down below the field, it was no wonder their soil was so poor and rocky.

The light from the lizard’s stick bobbed away In front of him. Loose stones rolled under Corvan’s feet, and he stumbled, cracking his shoulder against the craggy wall. “Hey, slow down, I can’t see where I’m going.”

The light stopped and came back. “Sorry, sir. After all the times running through here in the dark, I forget there are obstacles in the way. Please, take my fire stick. I do not need it, but be careful not to touch the light. It will burn through anything, even the rocks.” He thrust the stick at Corvan and moved on. Corvan held the strange torch out in front of him hoping it would not drip and set his shoes on fire.

The tunnel descended rapidly for a few hundred yards and then branched in two directions. A clear trail cut to the left, but a single set of shoe prints went right. He peered down the right-hand tunnel.

“It is no use to look for the Kate now,” the lizard said from behind him. “The first shifting of the labyrinth openings has already occurred, and she is in the next room. We have some time before we can follow her. Come with me, and I will show you a place where you can rest.”

Corvan turned to follow the lizard down a short corridor and into a small room.

“You can cover the fire stick, sir.” The lizard gestured to the torch. “There is enough light here when your eyes adjust. Just put the cover back on top.”

Corvan examined the stick he held. A small black cap hung from a silver thong just below the glowing end. He held his hand over the fire. It was not as hot as he expected.

“Do not touch it, sir. If it gets on your skin, it will burn right through to the other side.”

Corvan recalled dripped burning plastic on his arm when melting one of his green army men. It had burned deep into his flesh before it cooled and solidified. This sounded infinitely more painful. He carefully slipped the black cap over the flame, and it went out.

As his eyes adjusted, he found the cave was bathed in a blue glow from overhead.

“Not enough light for you, sir? Just a moment.” The lizard ran onto a low shelf and pushed a claw toward the light, which in turn became stronger and more pinkish in hue as it spread across the room. “I heard that the lumiens would not grow so far from their source, but I kept tending them and they survived.”

Corvan looked at the ceiling where long, silky threads hung in clusters around knobby globes that were the source of the mysterious light. Near his head was the largest, about the size of a small pumpkin. He gently brushed the soft tentacles that hung around it, and the bulb dimmed to a deep blue that fanned out like ripples in a pool to the other smaller bulbs scattered about the room. Corvan detected an electric smell, as if lightning had struck close by.

The lizard grinned. “Touch it again.”

Corvan reached up, and waves of light spread from bulb to bulb becoming brighter until they were all the color and intensity of the brightest full moon.

“Be careful, sir. Mine are not as strong as those in the Cor.” The lizard raised a claw, and the globes dimmed back to a soft blue. “They can expend themselves and never recover. We are not permitted to let that happen.” He pointed above Corvan’s head. “That is my best one. Not as splendid as those in the Cor, but a beautiful specimen nonetheless.”

Corvan inspected the large bulb and discovered that it was lower than the rest because it hung from metal holder that arched out from the cavern wall. The fixture ended in a metal ring, just like the one in his room but instead of an electrical cord, a gnarled stem was wrapped along the metal until it spread its roots out onto the rock.

“Are they plants?” Corvan asked.

“Yes, like your vegetables, but much better tasting. Here, try one of these.” The lizard plucked a small globe the size of a cherry tomato from a patch that hung down the wall. “Quick, eat the flesh while it is still blue; that is the nicest flavor, I think.”

Corvan nibbled on the strange fruit. It tasted sweet—like a peach but tangier. The texture was smooth, and warmth flowed down his throat and into his stomach. He popped the rest into his mouth.

“Careful, sir.” The lizard approached him. “Do not bite the seed. It is never permitted for us to consume the life of a lumien.”

Corvan worked his tongue around the hard pit of the fruit. There was a tiny buzz of electric current as his tongue touched the pointy end of the seed, like touching his tongue against the terminals of a nine-volt battery. The tingle in his tongue spread through his head. It was much more pleasant than the shock from the battery.

He spit the seed into his hand. It was teardrop shaped and had veins that pulsed as if a tiny heart were beating inside.

“Touch the pointed end to the ceiling, sir.”

Corvan reached up and felt a small tug as the seed reattached itself to the rock. A translucent skin formed that obscured the patchwork of veins.

“You must plant it any time you eat the fruit. It is forbidden to eat the center of the lumiens. The penalty is death, for they are our source of light and life.”

“Do they only have one seed?”

The lizard tilted its head. “I have been told that there is a special mother plant that produces clusters of seeds, but I have never seen it. It belongs to the priests, but I think it must not produce many of the seeds because the Cor is darker each time I return.”

A pale blue skin now covered the seed. It twitched and stretched as the fruit expanded.

“They grow quickly at first, but they won’t glow until they are larger. If you pick them when they are brighter, they become too spicy for my taste. Would you like to try a brighter one?” He raised a claw toward the globes.

“I feel full. Maybe later.” The pleasant feeling from the seed had passed and left behind a heightened awareness of his body, as if the electricity was trapped inside him. Corvan looked around the chamber until his gaze settled on an intricate sculpture created from bits of metal that hung on one wall. Looking closer, he could see pieces he recognized: a circular saw blade, lids from tin cans, a tie rod from a truck, and a rusty hand-cranked eggbeater. “Did you make that?”

A proud smile spread across the lizard’s face. “The hole into your world permitted me freedom that a Watcher normally does not receive. I did not have to go back to the Cor for supplies and was able to learn much about you and your world. This is something I made to help me pass the time. I use small fire sticks I grow to melt the pieces together. Do you like it?”

Corvan nodded. He didn’t know much about art, but it certainly looked as good as anything he had seen on his field trip to the art gallery in the city.

Below the sculpture, a row of tall quartz crystals sprouted from the floor. “I’ve never seen rock crystals that big.”

The lizard nodded. “I have practiced a little over the years. It is one of the things that kept me from losing myself. Would you like to hear them?”

“Sure?” Corvan said, although he was uncertain how you would listen to rocks.

The lizard stepped into the center of the tall crystals. After a moment of intense concentration, the creature caressed the angular shapes with the tips of his claws. A faint sound, like tiny glass wind chimes, filled the room. The sound felt like a liquid flowing around his head and into his ears. Corvan closed his eyes as the tempo of the music increased. He imagined a group of small creatures moving in a circle, bobbing rhythmically up and down. Abruptly the music stopped.

The lizard looked up with glistening eyes. “I have not played that one since before I accepted the black band.” He scurried up to Corvan. “That was a song about my kind in the days before we became Watchers. Did you like it?”

“It was very nice.” Corvan’s ears still rang with the tune, and his head felt fuzzy. “I think I’d better sit down,” he mumbled, dropping the pack from his shoulder and sitting beside it.

“Yes, you should rest. We have a short time until the first portal door opens into the labyrinth, and I need to pack. I am not sure what to take. I have more collected than I could ever carry.” He moved to the cave wall and pulled back a coarse curtain to reveal a small room carved into the rock. Hanging on the back wall were row upon row of skinned and dried gopher carcasses. No wonder their field was the only one in the area not full of gopher holes.

Small sheaves of wheat were piled high in a roughly hewn stone bin. Shelves cut into the rock above it held a variety of glass jars full of dried fruits, nuts, and strange things that Corvan didn’t recognize. “So, that’s where my mother’s canning jars went. She always blamed me for taking them outside and losing them.”

“You did bring them outside, sir. So, in a way, she was correct,” the lizard replied.

“Why do you keep calling me ‘sir’?”

“Out of respect. Now that I am free, I am pleased to become your servant.”

“How can you be free and also be a servant?” Corvan asked.

The lizard stopped picking items from his shelves and turned to Corvan. “That is the best freedom of all. To know I can serve by my own choice and not from fear of pain. I was born to serve, but I only truly enjoy it when I freely choose my own master.”

“Didn’t you freely choose to accept the black band?”

The lizard’s face wrinkled, and he caressed his neck. “Yes. I made the choice of my own will, but once the bond was on me, I was not free to leave. My choice placed me under his control. But that is not how Tsarek was created to serve.”

“Is that your name, Tsah-reck?”

“It is the name I was given at emergence, but I have not used it for many years. He forbade us personal recognition. We were referred to only by the location of the portal we guarded.”

“What does your name mean?”

Tsarek looked down at the ground. “It means pretty face .. on account of these blue markings.” He pointed to the side of his face.

The three lines of deep blue scales that swept off Tsarek’s face and onto his neck seemed more visible than before, as if the lizard were blushing. Corvan felt a bit sorry for him. “You don’t have to call me ‘sir.’ You can use my name and call me Corvan if you want.”

The lizard shook his head vigorously. “Oh no! Were I to use your title when others may hear, that would be the end of us both.” His tone softened. “Perhaps I may be permitted to use your personal name?”

“Corvan is the only name I have.”

“I refer to the name your mother used: Kalian.”

“My mother never called me that.”

“Perhaps not,” Tsarek said, “But she sang it to you often in her song. Kalian means my only one.”

Kalian. Was that the name Grandfather’s letter referred to? He liked the sound of it. “That will be fine. From now on, you can call me Kalian.”

The lizard’s eyes shone with honor. He crossed to Corvan, placed a slender paw on his knee, and looked into his eyes. “Tsarek promises to serve Kalian and … Oh, sir, I am sorry.” His voice faltered, and his paw dropped from Corvan’s knee.

Tsarek, pulled back across the cavern floor. He leaned heavily against the crystals, and a discordant jangling filled the room.

“What’s wrong?” Corvan asked.

“I cannot serve you for you must kill me. You must take the right of family blood.”

“What do you mean? I don’t understand,” Corvan said.

The lizard pulled something from a niche in the wall. He placed the object into Corvan’s hand and then stepped away while bowing deeply.

An old pocket watch with crudely scratched symbols over its back lay in his palm. He turned it over. The front cover was carefully inscribed with the same insignia as the hammer. He flicked the catch, and the watch popped open. The bezel was cracked, and the hands were frozen together at the top position. Tiny words had been engraved on the inside cover. Lifting it toward the largest globe, Corvan read aloud, “To Grandfather, on the birth of Corvan, September 21, 1937.”

His mother had told him about this watch. It had been a present from her. He wrapped his hand tightly around it. “Where did you get my grandfather’s watch?” Corvan asked.

“I did not know who it was,” Tsarek said. “It was dark, and I was afraid.”

“What are you saying?” Did you meet my grandfather? Where? When?”

“The bones up above in the entry. I took it from the skeleton after …” Tsarek fell prostrate on the floor. “Oh, sir, my life is forfeit to you. You must now kill me; I am the one who took the life of your past-father.”