The Forgotten Land of Myria

ANGUS

It took me quite a while to realize I was awake. Wherever I was, was darker with my eyes open than with them closed and all I could hear was the heavy flapping of wings close by and the sound of rain hitting the roof above me. I hadn’t a clue where I lay, or what was upside down or right side up. In fact, it felt like I was falling...

When I woke up again--still in the dark--there wasn’t even the faintest sound and I was now still--I could feel the stone-cold floor against my back.

Pit. Pat. Pit. Pat. Periodic drops punctuated the silence. The rain had stopped. Must be a leak.

When I tried to roll on my side, however, I found that I couldn’t budge. They were holding me down. They had my arms pinned out to my sides and one of them was sitting on my chest.

This again, I thought. I couldn’t fight them--I never could. No use trying. Just get it over with.

KHHAAACH!

The bully pulled the phlegm up into the back of his throat. I tried to kick my legs but they were pressed together. SLURP! He sucked the string of saliva back to his mouth. SLURP! Which one was it this time? Did I forget to do someone’s homework? SLURP!

I’m not gonna cry. I’m not gonna cry.

Their laughter stretched--as did the slurps. What had I ever done to them? SLUUURP! More laughter. Once again, I couldn’t hold it. I broke down crying. After so many years I was back in the same position: being held immobile, waiting for the gob of snot to splash in my face, not being able to wipe the tears from my cheek. I shut my eyes tight and waited as the laughter echoed. I waited...nothing. Even the cave was silent. No dripping. I concluded that the blockheads might have come to their senses--however, just as I opened my eyes and sighed in relief, the blob splashed. I gagged; some of it had gotten in my mouth and eyes. The drops were back at it, and as I rattled my head in an attempt to shake the indecency off my face I realized what this was all about. The Ganzfeld effect--there were no bullies on top of me, no spit on my face. That was just my brain, under perceptual isolation, reacting to the periodic cave dripping and creating complex scenes.

I shut my eyes tightly and tried to regain my consciousness. In an instant, the entire scene zipped away. The leak was still dripping, but I sighed in relief, having conquered the absurdities of my brain under sensory deprivation. In fact, it might have just been a bad dream--you rather can’t tell when you’re asleep or awake in the dark.

However, as I tried to pull myself up I realized I was still being held down. The grip that pinned my arms down tightened, and it didn’t feel like human hands anymore. It was something else--something slimy, more like tentacles that slobbered my arms in God knows what. In fact, suddenly I felt the wet in my face again, from the bullies’ spit. The knees that pressed against my chest were now pressurizing it, almost sucking on me. The slobbery grip smacked my legs like a wagging tail and held them together while I came to a terrifying conclusion. There was an octopus on me.

My chest burned and air was forced out of my lungs. Its many suction cups smooched on my arms, leaving burning sensation with every pinch. I strained. My waist tightened.

“Poor thing,” a voice trailed into my ear as the tentacles wrapped around my neck, “are you holding up OK?”

“Margaret!” I would’ve shrieked--had there been any air in my lungs.

I clenched my teeth. It was up to me this time. But what could I do? No bow-and-arrow to shoot. No forest to rummage. No mountain to climb. What little hand-to-hand combat they had taught me was useless in my current position. No, the training hadn’t prepared me for this battle--those playground bullies had. The octopus’ grip was almost unbearable now.

They say revenge is a dish best served cold. But for my vindication, I’ll have the antipasto di polipo grigliato.

That’s Italian for “I’m just getting started,” Mr. Octopus.

I found my fingers, balled them into fists, and pushed. I strained with all my might, knowing that breaking static friction would take the greatest effort. Just as I rallied the final thrust, two tentacles slapped violently around my ribs and squeezed. Panting, I realized I was hugging myself. Nothing. No octopus--and my arms were free. Dismayed, I rummaged my mind for an explanation.

Of course, I thought, disappointed. Muscle atonia.

Even though I had regained some movement, I found a reason to sit still when a noise echoed from above me. A series of taps, like raindrops rapping on a car window, followed by mumbles. Voices. Someone else was here, but I thought better than to call out for help. I held my breath and listened closely. The taps grew increasingly louder, and louder, until they shifted into stomps. Those taps weren’t raindrops after all. They were feet. And, by the echo created, they seemed to be coming from about a hundred feet above me.

All of a sudden, the scuffling stopped at once with a THUD, loud enough to shake the cold floor I was lying on. A faint screech took shape, echoing repeatedly, and was soon followed by painful grunts and wails and a recurring rip that sounded disturbingly similar to tearing limbs. These different noises seemed to reverberate, and I remained motionless. Before I could release the air in my lungs a low growl seeped through me, sending violent chills down my spine.

A brush of hot fetid air that skimmed my face made me realize that I had miscalculated the source of the distant echoing cacophony. A pair of yellow eyes pierced the dark, inches from my face. The putrid breath smacked my neck as paws raked the floor around my head. In fact, were they paws? What was this, a wolf?

I had been holding my own breath this entire time so I timed the wolf’s exhale to release mine. As he breathes I’ll--too late. My body gave in, and I gasped desperately, inadvertently gulping a mouthful of rancid vapor. I gagged and coughed.

Great, I thought. Now it knows I’m very much alive. It--they.

Now there were two pairs of eyes. A flicker. Three pairs. Four. Five. Six. Each blink opened more eyes.

Were they blinking or was I?

I heard a high-pitched ringing, like a tuning fork, as the eyes began to dart about, then circle me. When I gasped for air again I realized the sound was coming from me. The eyes circled mechanically. Fur grazed me. Hot breath. Growls.

I couldn’t feel my arms!

I squeezed my eyes in a frantic attempt to regain control of my senses.

What is this? Sleep paralysis? Hypnagogic or hypnopompic? Was even awake?

I wasn’t going to wait around to find out. With my eyes still shut, I decided to do something I had never done before--note even sure if it would work. I prayed.

During the week of training that we had, Livia taught us a few of the prayers that they recited to Yihwa, but I was only able to remember one. I closed my eyes and gently began to whisper it:

Yihwa

The breath of life

Hear my words, for they come from the heart, soul, and mind.

You gave your people

The breath of life,

So that we may live with dignity and pride.

Oh Yihwa!

Show me all things in this house of deception

Show them as they really are

I know all is possible through love

For through love, the stake becomes a throne

Through love, the king becomes a slave.

I opened my eyes, and finished it with my own words:

Therefore, I seek more of you than your name.

I am your flute; my music is all yours.

I didn’t even know why I’d said those last two sentences. They didn’t seem to fit in at all...

This time, that what made me realize I was awake was my rumbling stomach. I had only just noticed that I was starving. And, still restrained on that stone floor, with absolutely nothing to do in the pitch dark, all I could think of now was: Margaret and Harold. It never crossed my mind how they must’ve been handling all of this. The entire situation, ever since I arrived in Myria. To them, I’d vanished without a trace. These past weeks had to have been utterly dreadful! They hadn’t a clue as to my whereabouts much less if I was still alive.

I hated myself for this. I could die here and Margaret and Harold would have to cope with the agony of never having seen me again, or even knowing where I’d gone. They had done so much for me throughout my life and, even now, I managed to keep them restless. I only wish that I could see them once more, and tell them where I’d gone. Tell them I loved them. With that thought, that heretofore unshifting weight on my chest melted straight through me, reconstituting as the weight that pulled me finally to sleep.

My eyelids fluttered as I felt my body rise inside me. The white noise colored itself in. Car horns. Dogs barking. School kids at the bus stop. The Bread truck. The morning aromas tweaked my nose. Bacon sizzling. Coffee brewing. Margaret’s cherry pie.

Tic. Toc. Tic. Toc. My twenty-three antique mechanical clock collection. I took a deep breath inhaling the Fairy fabric softener of the sheets that rubbed against my chin.

I’m home.

For the first time, I resisted the urge to open my eyes and jump out of bed. I wanted to savor this. Music. The notes bounded up the stair and slid around the door. I hummed along instinctively.

Margaret was playing the flute. Her dream was to be able to play for the London Philharmonic and, even after a broken hand had slowed her down a few years, she never got over her love for the instrument (she taught me some of what I know). She would play for hours. How she loved the flute...flute...I found myself whispering it again:

I am your flute...

My eyes sprung open, greeting once again the darkness of the cave.

my music is all yours.

The now familiar weight retook its residence on my chest. Flute! The Whispering Ocarina! Godfrey had given it to me, the night before the Quest. How could I have forgotten! I quickly felt around my knapsack--which was buckled at my side--and found the little hard lump. It was there alright. My fingers reached into one of the pockets, caressed the wooden instrument, and I yanked it out.

It gave off a greenish glow, that, though dim, seemed like an ultraviolet lightbulb to me, after having spent so much time in the dark.

I guess it’s ready to be played I thought. I went through Godfrey’s instructions. Whisper a wish into it, play a tune, and it will be granted.

I remembered Godfrey’s words: “Do not take it for granted. Use it in your time of most need.”

I couldn’t think of a better time than being alone in the dark, wrapped tightly by an unknown source an inch from not breathing at all. I wet my lips with my last bits of saliva and blew softly around the holes to find the right notes.

I could only remember having played an ocarina once before and I hadn’t touched the flute in months. I was a bit rusty.

Once I was ready, I couldn’t find a good thing to ask for-I know that with wishes you must choose your words carefully-so I simply whispered “Help me”, and began playing the one song that had come to mind: Greensleeves. So cliché…

The sound of that ocarina was the most beautiful I had ever heard. A crisp, peaceful, sound (adding on to the whole context in which it was being played). Its green glow shined brighter and brighter as I played through the entire piece twice, and I was beginning to see my surroundings. I still couldn’t see much, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed something shimmering. Water! There was a pond in the cave, but that wasn’t the strange part. The pond was surrounding something--like a giant orb of ice.

Once I stopped playing, the glow on the ocarina dimmed and the whole scenery with the pond and the orb and the cave vanished. I waited a while in the dark, expecting something to happen but it didn’t. I tried playing the ocarina again but no sound came out. I didn’t know what was worse: the feeling that nothing happened, or the feeling of knowing that there was a large supply of water only a few feet away from me and I couldn’t reach it.

Just as I was ready to surrender all hope, a teeny, tiny, glint of light appeared, floating over me like a firefly. The small speck grew a bit bigger as it gracefully glided its way down, landing on my chest. As soon as it did, I felt the grips around my body begin to loosen.

I let out a sigh of relief, slowly regaining my breath and my movement. The speck then bounced up and glided away. I wanted to call out for it to come back but I was fully distraction by my realization that I was--I was free!

Some of my bones cracked and I was obviously sore, but that was the least of my worries. I quickly rolled away from the spot where I’d been imprisoned, before it or anything else could grasp me again, and followed the speck as it floated down. It landed on the pond with a ripple--then the extraordinary took place.

A light blue shimmer unfurled, radiating from the bright dot, until the entire pond glowed. Then, in one searing flash, the giant orb of ice that the pond surrounded burst into blue light. I fell back, covering my eyes. Hysterical blindness set in and I had to sit with my eyes shut for a moment, dreading whatever was out there awaiting my next blink. I dared myself to peak. Light. Warmth released my eyelids and I gazed upon the glowing orb and the shimmering pond. I turned around twice, beholding the entire place. I could see.

The walls of the cave-- that surrounded the pond and the orb, in a perfect circle--now glittered with the reflection of its light. I simply circled the cave aimlessly, taking in the beauty.

The orb of ice was majestic. It was transparent and I could see the source of light, buried deep into its frozen matter, that towered over me. Blue auras danced around, spreading to the tips of its surface and back. As I neared it, the blue light coming from the center weaved through it’s rough, icy shell, warming my entire body. It was just too beautiful. Slowly, I reached out my hand. If I could just touch it...

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you!”

“AHHH!”

Startled, I fell back onto the stone floor.

“Wh-who’s there?”

No response. I tried to make my voice sound as menacing as possible.

“D-don’t you dare come near me I’m warning you!”

“A--hihihi!” the high-pitched, falsetto voice squeaked, echoing through the cave. “You can’t be serious!”

It sounded like a mouse, had that the ability to talk.

“Dead serious! Well, not dead, n--not literally, well err...”

“Well, Mr. Dead Serious, it seems you have gotten tangled in your own web!” More squeaks and giggles filled the cave.

“Where are you? Show yourself!”

“My dear! You seemed so much calmer a while ago. Why so angry all of a sudden?”

“Show. Yourself. Now!”

“Weren’t you the smart one? At least your journal says so...”

“My journal? How did you--”

“And for your information, I’m right behind you!” I wheeled around. There was nothing there except the little speck of light, floating around. Then it occurred to me...The speck of light was talking.

“A-ha!” it squealed. “Bet you thought I was bigger, didn’t you!”

“Err, no I--”

“Well of course I am!” The glow on the speck faded a bit and a pair of translucent butterfly wings took shape, stretching to about the size of my palm. The pair of wings fluttered towards me and that’s when I noticed the key detail. A heather colored dress hung under it.

“Of course,” I exclaimed. “You’re a nixie!”

“Hihihi!” it squealed. “I got you good!”

I wasn’t sure how to respond and I must’ve been wearing a pretty confused face.

“Oh, how silly of me, you must be so...perplexed,” the nixie said. “Allow me to introduce myself! Ahem. I am Amaryllis Lazuli Elmmoon Mountaindew Jesterlily! Oh, but you can just call me Isabelle.”

“Elmmoon, Jesterlily?” I said. “I think you mean Elm-coon and Easter lily.” I corrected her as gently as I could.

The nixie burst into giggles, and fluttered in circles.

“Well, Amaryllis, I--”

“Isabelle!” she snapped.

“Err, Isabelle. How exactly did I turn up here? I mean, what’s going on?”

“I dunno!” she replied in a singsong voice, shrugging her pebble shoulders.

“What? But--what?”

“Oh, you’re one confused boy, aren’t you? Hihihihi! Well I’ll have you know that I know about just as much as you do.

I’ve only just been summoned!”

“Wha--oh, the Ocarina,” I declared. “Okay...do you at least know where we are?”

“Oh, oh I know!” she said, raising her hand like she was in a classroom, “We are in the Caves of Solitude.”

My heart dropped. I remembered the horrible stories Ada had told me about the Caves of Solitude. The fifty men that had eaten each other and starved to death, the woman that was lost and never found, the woman that was trapped for three years and went mad--not the kind of legend for which I was destined.

“A--are you sure?” I double-checked.

“Positive! Oh, don’t be discouraged Mr. Dead Serious.” Right now, it was the “dead” part that concerned me. “There’s still hope! You’ve already found the way out.”

She pointed at the orb of ice. I turned to face it. “Surely, you know what it is, right?”

I nodded. “The Razorgate.” My legs turned to jello. “Oh no.” My voice shook.

“What? Why are you doing that? Stop jiggling!”

I had missed out on one--particularly large--detail about the Caves of Solitude. The wings flapping, the thumping, the shrieks...The Horned Serpent.

Since I was still alive, that only meant that I wasn’t alone. Someone else was taken to its nest first. I swiveled myself away from the Razorgate so hastily that Isabelle jerked back, in surprise.

“Do you know if there was anyone else with me before?” I demanded.

“Ohh...,” she exhaled, having just realized the whole connection, “well, I’m afraid I don’t quite know.”

Her eyes then lit up. “Oh, you’ve been here all along, hihihi!” she said, looking through me.

“Who--”

“Oh, Mr. Dead Serious! See, I’m afraid I can’t tell you about your friends, but I know people who can! They know the Caves better than anyone else. And look!” She brandished her finger over me. “They’re here!”

A low growl spun me around. Ada’s words wired through my mind: In the Caves of Solitude, it’s either a quick death or slow madness.

Right now, I didn’t know which one was worse--the walls of the cave had blinked and two large pairs of yellow eyes were gawking at me.