Prospero Regained (8 page)

Picking up his hat again, Mab clambered forward and hunched over, peering intently at this new enemy as it reared from the frothy waters, roaring at us. “It’s a sea monster all right.” He slapped his lead pipe against his hand. “I recognize the species from the old days. Same kind Hercules stopped from munching on some Trojan princess.”

“A Ketos?” Erasmus hung on to the
dolfin,
where the bow iron rose above the rest of the gondola. The unbreakable blade
Durandel
shone in his hand, gleaming with a holy light too bright to look upon directly. “The same breed that the Greek hero Perseus slew to win his bride, Andromeda. Theo fought one in the Caspian Sea once. Were you with him, Gregor?”

“No. Must have been Titus. I think I had not been born yet.” Gregor frowned, looking from the monster to the golden ring on his hand. “I don’t believe the Seal of Solomon is of any use against living monsters.”

“Here it comes!” Erasmus shouted.

It was upon us.

We all leapt backward. The sea monster’s jaws closed on the gondola, just missing Erasmus. As it clenched its teeth, the high, curved bow iron broke with a resounding crack. The jagged broken tip drove into the top of the creature’s mouth like a spike, forcing its jaws open. This saved our boat from being snapped in half but did not protect us from the beast’s fetid stifling breath.

Shouting some ancient war cry, Erasmus swung at the creature’s head. He was not the swordsman that Mephisto and Theo were; his first blow bounced off the creature’s tough scales.

“Damn!” Erasmus exclaimed, adding as he swung again, “or should I be saying the opposite? Is there a verb form for being sent to heaven?”

“Redeem!” Gregor shouted, a priestlike gleam shining in his eyes. He hit the creature with the
Staff of Darkness.
A
crunch
of cartilage followed the
whack
of his blow.

Fan in hand, I lunged forward and swiped at the monstrous head. The fan sliced through the monster’s nose as if it were a well-roasted turkey. The fore part of the nostril fell away revealing pale reptilian flesh. This infuriated the beast but did little serious damage.

It roared and yanked its head free of the gondola, shaking us all. Pale ichor dripped from the wound in the roof of its mouth and from its severed nose.

Mab leapt across the boat, his trench coat whipping about him. Landing on the monster’s head, he hit it repeatedly with his lead pipe. The pipe bounced off the thick scales. Scowling, Mab leaned forward precariously and thrust his pipe into the soft tissue of the beast’s eye.

The monster bellowed in pain, throwing its head this way and that. Mab slid backward and grabbed hold of the pointy green frills behind the creature’s head. Below, its thrashings exposed the creature’s throat. Erasmus took advantage of this and struck again.

This time his blow was true.
Durandel
sunk deeply into the soft neck. Flailing, the beast knocked the gondola into a spin. Gregor and I were thrown forward.

I came to rest across the side of the gondola, the wooden
forcola
digging into my ribs. The creature loomed over me like a great green and yellow wall, my nose pushed up against its leathery scales. I had landed hard with my fan arm pinned beneath me and the wind knocked from my lungs. When I could breathe again, the monster’s hot, lizardy odor caused me to cough. It was like being trapped in the reptile house at the zoo.

Beside me, Gregor had regained his feet. He hefted the
Staff of Darkness,
blocking the monster’s arm as it reached for us. While he struggled with it, I climbed to my knees. My fan had become embedded in the gondola. I struggled to pull it free.

The boat rocked, and Gregor was thrown backward. The sea monster took a swipe at me. Helplessly, I watched as the fistful of razorlike claws came at my face. Just as the shiny black tips drew near my eye, I yanked free my fan and swung.

The silvery fan of the Japanese forge god sliced through the wrist of the ketos. Its webbed hand flew free of its arm. I ducked to one side, but a claw raked my cheek as it fell. My face stung, but I had done the thing some serious damage. With some relief, I noted that it was not regenerating. You can never tell ahead of time with sea monsters.

In the center of the boat, Malagigi knelt in prayer, the silver star resting upon his palm. For an instant, I felt angry that this magician, who had been such a terror on the battlefield when he fought us in Milan, now chose to sit by doing nothing. But, of course, none of his tricks—wise horses and illusionary shades of the dead—would have been of any use here, even if he could have performed them. Most likely, we were better served by his prayers.

The monstrous reptile screamed in rage. Looking up, I saw Mab had wounded the other eye. The creature was now blind. It tossed its head, waving its good claws and its stump. Its neck frills flapped. Pale ichor splattered the gondola. Ironically, the smell of it was more pleasant than that of the surrounding swamp.

“Not a good thing, all these wounds,” Mab called as he clung to the beast’s tossing head, his arms wrapped around a hornlike protrusion. “Blood calls stuff. Not sure I’d want to see what it calls here in … What the Hell is that!”

There was rush and a
swoosh.
Something was racing toward us under the swamp, something big—very, very big.

The ripple grew closer. An island rose into the air. Long curved roots the color of ivory hung down from the bottom.

No. Those were not roots. They were teeth.

CHAPTER

FOUR

In the Belly of the Kronosaur

I grabbed my flute from the strap that secured it to my back and then remembered. With my useless flute in one hand and my puny fan in the other hand, I gazed open-mouthed down a throat the length of a turnpike exit.

“Run!” screamed Mab.

Erasmus, who was standing on the broken bow of the gondola, whacking at the sea monster with
Durandel,
glanced over his shoulder at our trembling little boat in the midst of the algae-covered swamp and called casually, “Run where?”

Then, the gondola rose up into the air, and all went dark, except for the gleam of emerald light from the winglike wisps coming from the shoulders of my gown, and the bright beam issuing from Erasmus’s sword. We tumbled for a time, sliding and falling, as if we were on some amusement-park water slide. I clung to one of the low benches with both arms. Finally, we came to rest, right side up. The gondola undulated beneath us, and a
sizzle,
like the sound of eggs cooking, came from several directions, along with a disturbing loud squishy noise that sounded like a cross between walking in wet galoshes and being stuck inside of a giant washing machine.

Wherever we were, it was hot and stank of bile and bleach. It stank so badly I could hardly breathe. In the semidarkness, I heard the sound of retching. At least one of my companions lost what little food his stomach held.

“What happened?” I called hesitantly.

“A cavern enclosed around us, I think.” Mab’s voice came from far away. “By Setabos, the air is foul in here!”

There was a
whoosh
of wind, and a cold gust from some unknown source blew against my face. This cooler air smelled sweeter, like a late winter’s day when the ice was beginning to thaw, but it only lasted a moment before the humid and putrid air overwhelmed it.

“We’ve been swallowed.” Gregor coughed, then choked out stoically. “Apparently, Maugris here was right about monsters wandering down here since time immemorial. We have been swallowed by a kronosaur.”

“A whosawhatzit?” called Mab, trying to shout over the general cacophony, the galoshes-washing machine
whooshing.

My head swam, but an examination did not reveal any bumps or sore spots. So, perhaps the disorientation was caused by the shock of having been swallowed by an enormous, ocean-dwelling reptile. In the dark, with nothing else to distract me from the sting of my wounded cheek, I felt as if there were a line of fire across my face.

“Ah, Ma’am?” Mab shouted. “The wounded Ketos is in here with us and alive … and I’m still on it! Anybody got a light?”

Beams of brightness streamed through the darkness, illuminating the bits of the inside of the stomach in which we now dwelt. Erasmus held
Durandel
aloft over his head, its blade gleaming with a holy light. Finally, we could see our surroundings.

The gondola was partially cracked across the middle and flooding quickly. It bumped against a half-digested skull of something large. Above our heads, huge curved bones arched like the ribs of a cathedral ceiling. Farther away, beyond this skeleton of a recent dinner, slumped our sea monster, with Mab still clinging to one of its gill-like neck frills. As the thing stirred and slowly began moving its head, Mab lowered himself down and touched a toe to the liquid beneath him. His shoe hissed and steamed in the pooled digestive acids. Quickly, Mab clambered up toward the top of the sea monster’s head.

Malagigi stood on the cracked gondola gazing in disgust at his broken pole-oar. Then, he opened his other hand. Upon it, the silver star shone brightly. Suddenly hopeful, I took a deep breath, which I immediately regretted. Bile and ammonia raked my lungs, causing me to double over. My innards writhed in disgust.

The starlight revealed giant folds of soft tissue around us, pale and bloodless like the innards of a fish. These flaps of stomach flesh undulated and rubbed against each other, causing the disconcerting squishy sound. They pushed up against our boat and the skeleton and the sea monster on every side, leaving us with very little room to maneuver. In two places, it pulled together to form a pucker. Most likely, one led to the throat and the other to the intestines. There was no indication as to which way might be which.

As the ketos woke and shifted, it had to shove aside curtains of stomach wall. This angered the sea monster it. Roaring, it thrashed its tail and bit at the thick muscular folds of flesh.

“This is not good!” Mab cried, during one of the moments when he reappeared from where he had been being smothered by the folds of stomach lining the sea monster attacked. “If Old Gill-Frill here keeps this up, he’s going to infuriate our host!”

As the blinded sea monster twisted about again, Mab jumped free. He sailed across the intervening space to grab one of the rib bones of the half-digested skeleton. Clambering from rib to rib, he reached the dome of the skull, next to which floated our quickly flooding gondola.

“Phew! Glad to be off of there,” Mab declared as he slid onto the sinking gondola. “Besides, the thing didn’t have any more eyes for me to blind.”

My shoes hissed as the rapidly rising liquid splashed over them. I backed up.

“Let’s kill it before it gets us,” Erasmus gasped as he recovered from a bile-induced coughing bout. He lowered his arm, depriving us of the pillar of holy light that streamed from
Durandel,
and strode forward, leaping up onto the skull and shimmying across the vertebrae toward the sea monster. “Bad enough to be in one monster’s stomach without having to be eaten by a second one, too.”

“What?” called Gregor, cupping his hand to his ear, straining to hear over the roar.

“I said, ‘Get the bad monster!’” Erasmus shouted back.

Gregor nodded and started forward. I paused to examine the cracked gondola. “This is going to sink into the stomach acid, and we’re going to lose it.” I jumped up onto the skull to stand beside Mab. “Let’s pull it out of the digestive juices.”

Mab, Malagigi, and I hauled the heavy craft up onto the skull of the whatever-it-once-was, while Gregor and Erasmus continued the fight against the sea monster. I had intended to leave the fight to them, but as I leaned over to steady the boat, the sea monster’s long sinuous tail struck me.

I flew backward off the skull and bounced against the folds of the kronosaur’s stomach. The squishy lining molded to my body, engulfing me. I felt as if I was falling into a huge wall of wet, stinking, rubber foam. The spongy surface dripped with juices that burned my wounded cheek and sizzled against my hair and enchanted gown. Soft painful stuff engulfed my face, smothering me.

And, oh, the smell!

My heart beat like it thought it could save me by racing. I flailed, seeking to breathe. My fan was still in my hand. I slid it open but thought better of it; wounding our host might cause worse troubles. Instead, I elbowed the springy stuff, pushing it aside as if I were swimming. Moving thus, I was able to wriggle out from the stomach wall and grab hold of a rib of the skeleton.

My brothers battled the sea monster. Erasmus hacked at its throat with
Durandel.
Mab had stuck his trusty lead pipe through the wide gill-flaps to the left of the creature’s head and pulled with both hands. Only he had done his work too well. The pipe ripped through the membranes of the frill, so that Mab now dangled dangerously close to the churning stomach acids below. Helpless, he kicked his feet.

Gregor had taken up the gondola’s broken
dolfin
as a weapon. He was trying to drive it into the creature’s heart; however, each time he thrust it against the monster’s chest, it bounced off.

Staring at this battle, I wet my lips. This proved to be a mistake. The acid that burned my face now blistered my tongue. I wiped my face angrily with my sleeve and peered at the battle more closely, searching for a way to help my brothers. If I could reach the far curve of the rib upon which I stood, the sea monster would be within arm’s reach. Though what I could do once I was there, I did not know.

I jumped onto the floating vertebrae that had once connected the two ivory curves. It wobbled beneath my foot. The silvery shadows my body cast swayed to and fro against the great folds of the stomach. Quickly, I leapt to the far rib, throwing my arms around it and hugging it until my footing became steady. Sliding my fan open again, I hooked an arm around the smooth white bone and leaned out precariously.