Tales of the Ocean City by Christopher Kaufman

Author:Christopher Kaufman [Kaufman, Christopher]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781955718103
Publisher: Three Dashes Publications

INITIATIONS: Part One: Harl’ut Enters the Volcano

Vispushin soared up the jagged cliff-face of the volcanic mountain. Her wings whistled through the air as she flew at top speed. Well before the peak, she alit upon a ledge jutting from a cleft in the dark rock. She clopped over the uneven floor of a path leading away from bright sunlight into forbidding darkness.

She stopped, where light came to an end like a line separating worlds.

She shook Harl’ut from her back and nudged him forward. He quickly kissed her soft muzzle, knowing she would have prevented it if she could.

“Don’t be so serious,” he thought to her. He began to walk forward but Vispushin whickered and he turned back. She nodded towards his chest...

“Is this really necessary?” he sighed, but faithfully removed his tunic, turned and walked into darkness. He knew that this was the ritual, long unpracticed, of the initiation of Pla’than’tirian leaders.

Why have they revived this rite?…he thought…what happens if I survive it? It must have something to do with the battle on the southern plain and the weird creatures that attacked us.

Images from the encounter flashed in his mind as he continued along the rough path.

There’s no knowing at present…he thought…I’d better just concentrate on staying alive. Although it was broad daylight outside, the complete absence of light within the mountain unnerved him.

Inside the mountain...the home of our ancient God...The monsters of the volcanic depths! He took a deep breath and assured himself that the prehistoric creatures upon which ancient legends were based had long since died out.

Or are there, as Archimedes conjectures, creatures of that sort remaining in the southern hemisphere...and could some of them have survived here deep in the mountain...protected from the outside world?

He brought this train of thought up short. He thought of Calanctus, the practical-minded warrior, teacher and friend and what he would say...

“Well, there either is...or there isn’t!”

So he continued onward, knowing from lessons in history that there was no escape save for the harrowing cliff-face back the way he’d come.

As he went, he trailed the fingers of his hand along the wall to his left. He felt the rough rock wall and occasional patches of watery dust. The path seemed to go on forever and to incline gradually downward, and no matter how much care he took to avoid them, sharp outcroppings of rock occasionally stabbed his shoulder, calf or thigh.

Exasperation welled up. He cupped his hands to his mouth and voiced the battle cry that he’d perfected on Calanctus’ training courts...

“Keyaaa!”

At first it felt good to release the sound, but the echoes continued deeper and deeper into the volcano and he came to regret his foolishness. The last echo came at great length and depth, and he wondered if it was, in fact...an answer?

Did I waken something? he thought.

He dropped to his knees to rest and clear his head. He listened to the empty sounds of the dark.

He saw florescent moss patterns on the rock strewn floor. Reds, greens and blues radiated intensely in the pitch blackness.

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