The Crown

Paz felt a rumble from deep inside the volcano. “Did you hear that?” he yelled. Sleege’s dark green lizard body was nearly doubled over against the blistering wind. If he heard he didn’t bother to respond.

They walked in single file along a goat path. Sleege’s short legs and prehensile tail propelled him along the irregular rocky surface. He held one arm across his face, just above his broad snout and wide mouth. Thorny nettles with gray branches and sparse green leaves bordered the uphill side of the path.

The two thieves crept along the outer perimeter of an active volcano, midway to the upper rim, searching for an opening. They were above the tree line on the ocean side of the volcano. The combination of crashing surf, hundreds of feet below, and relentless wind were deafening. The gusts blew primarily from the south, but occasionally a rogue breeze would descend from the top carrying with it a strong smell of sulfur.

A pillar of stone projected up and out from the side of the mountain. Paz crawled beneath it on his hands and feet like his ancestors who first evolved out of the Inferno. Loose stones tumbled down the slope. He pulled his small gray wings close against his back as he passed under the outcropping. On the other side they found an opening, a perfectly circular hole with weirdly smooth edges.

Sleege pulled Paz roughly by the arm, dragging him into a small crevice beneath a shallow overhang. “Wait, dog, while I consult the map.” Paz stiffened but said nothing.

The map, a golden disc, glowed azure along its surface before a hologram of the mountain popped up. Paz could see the two tiny red dots marking their position. Sleege’s pinched face gave an evil grin. “This is it, dog. Once we enter the altar chamber you need to pick up the Crown. As you value your life, and the life of your sister, do not put it on your head.”

Paz looked out over the ocean, blackness to the horizon except for white capped waves crashing on the rocky shore below. A flock of gulls, silhouetted against the moon, glided away from shore. He longed to leap out, to fly away, but he had not yet molted. He could feel the change coming, knew it would already have happened if his family’s hearth had not been extinguished. The sick fear of trego, of a permanent non-molted form, gripped his belly tightly. The thought of spending his life trapped in this chubby mahogany body with blunted wings was unbearable.

Paz’s head snapped sideways from the force of Sleege’s slap. “Pay attention, boy. I’m going to check out the tunnel. Stay here until I call you.”

Sleege approached the tunnel carefully, peering into the opening. “What is that red light?” he asked uncertainly, his words blown away on the wind. Another rumble shook the mountain. Light powder floated gently across the tunnel face. He crept slowly into the darkness when suddenly a blast of superheated air exploded out of the tunnel. Sleege let out a squawk of shock before his lifeless, desiccated body rocketed far out from the cliff. It cartwheeled down into the ocean landing with a tiny splash.

Paz slowly lifted himself off the ground, disoriented, gingerly touching the lump on his head. Mouth agape, he looked first at the opening to the vent and then out to the ocean. A new fear swept over him. Without the Crown they would kill his sister. What could he do?

Come, Pazuzu.

He spun around but saw no one.

Come, Chosen One.

The voice came from the vent, drawing him forward. He wasn’t sure why, but he knew he must follow. As he peered into the opening, he saw a narrow, circular tunnel. No redness or other color, just darkness. The walls were smooth and rounded and slanted sharply down. He tried crawling but found it easier to slide on the claws of his hands and feet. His wings, tucked close against his back, brushed along the roof.

Roughly a hundred yards from the opening the vent flattened before dropping sharply. A portal, closed tight, sat on his left-hand side. He grabbed the crossbar and turned it clockwise with difficulty. The spoke creaked loudly before spinning free. Paz froze, listening for movement. He heard nothing, so he swung the door inward. It opened into an unlit cavern. He thought of leaving the door ajar, in case he needed a quick escape, but decided against it. What if the vent released again, he thought. It might alert the dragons to his presence. In the end he closed it, but didn’t lock it as tight as before.

The cavern was pitch black and extremely humid. The warmth felt good after the chill mountain air. His second set of corneas slid into place, adding infrared vision. A pleasant sheen of sweat covered his body.

He unfurled his wings, flapping out the dust from the tunnel, and left them out to help him creep quietly. The corridors of the dragon people were wide and interlaced the volcano in a confusing labyrinth. As Paz exited the cavern he hesitated, looking left and right, trying to guess which way to go.

Right.

The voice spoke to him again, and continued speaking, guiding him through the maze. It led down, always down, sometimes to the right and sometimes to the left. As he circled lower and lower the humidity and temperature rose. Paz tried to memorize the path but was hopelessly confused by the fifth intersection. He blinked as salty sweat dripped into his eye.

Eventually he entered a wide corridor with ornate carvings along both walls. They depicted scenes of battle between the dragon gods and the demons and lizards and other people of the planet. Paz knew some of the legends. His grandfather had tried teaching him the old poems. Paz wished he’d paid better attention.

The corridor ended in an arched doorway. It opened into a dimly lit room with a vaulted ceiling. A brazier of coal, its green fire crackling softly, gave off a soft glow. Paz unconsciously lifted his second cornea because of the light. He gagged from the pungent fumes, feeling lightheaded. Crouching, he crept into the room.

On the floor lay four dragons, prostrate before the altar. The priests pale yellow skin was nearly translucent. Scales scratched the surface of the floor queerly when they twitched. They dozed in drug addled supplication, moaning softly.

Paz saw the Crown seated atop the altar. Two carved dragon paws projected upward with the Crown seated on the reptilian palms. He tiptoed around the periphery of the room, carefully avoiding the widespread wings of the priests. The Crown was gold with six spikes, and each spike had a small red gem at the tip. Paz peered at the dragons then quickly grabbed the Crown. It vibrated unexpectedly and all six gems pulsed with a red light.

Startled, half blinded, heart suddenly racing, Paz dropped the Crown. It clattered loudly on the rocky floor.

The four dragons shuddered and methodically, but inexorably, gathered their legs and retracted their wings. Their limbs moved reluctantly, as if stuck in molasses, unhappily pulled from a deep slumber.

Paz snatched the Crown and bolted from the room. He hadn’t gone ten feet before the dragons mournful crooning began. The alarm penetrated the walls, vibrating throughout the mountain. A drum started pounding, far away. Fear clutched at Paz’s heart. He could feel the seething energy of hundreds of dragons awakening.

The Crown glowed brightly, its reddish light guiding him through twists and turns. He passed an opening to a large room and heard a bellow of rage. A black dragon, upper torso armored in bronze, crashed into the corridor behind him, then bound after him. Paz leapt sideways around the next turn and felt the scorch of dragon fire on the edge of his wings.

With relief he dove into the cavern from which he first entered. The crossbar required both hands, so he quickly placed the Crown on his head. Somewhere in the back of Paz’s consciousness he felt the Crown tighten into a proper fit around his forehead. Grabbing the bar, he flung it counterclockwise. It spun quickly and he pulled open the door. A faint reddish color was visible in the vent. The ground rumbled ominously.

Behind him, the black dragon sped past the opening, realized its mistake, and turned awkwardly in the tight corridor. Grabbing the edges of the opening with front claws the dragon inhaled deeply and vomited blue fire. Paz’s eyes widened as he slammed the door closed. He spun the crossbar with a flick of his wrist. A concussive wave of heat penetrated the portal knocking him to the ground.

Another deep rumble shook the mountain, louder than before. He looked up the shaft at the night sky. It was far, far away. A few stars peaked out just as scudding clouds drifted quickly past. Peering back down the vent he saw a red light. Heart thundering, he turned to race up the shaft, but the surface was too smooth. His claws scratched against the polished rock, unable to gain purchase. His useless wings flapped involuntarily. Suddenly, there was another rumble, followed by a thunderous hissing sound, like a thousand teapots whistling at once. Paz turned toward the red light and stretched his hands in front of him. The light blurred, blotted by a smoky column of gas, rising sickeningly fast. He closed his eyes and screamed, “NOOOO!!”

Just as the blast of superheated air reached him the Crown flashed bright red like the noonday sun. A round force field of energy erupted from the Crown surrounding Paz, protecting him. The gas shot him out of the vent like a cannonball into the cool night air.

As it rocketed out and down, the sphere solidified around Paz from the outer rim to his core. His last thought before losing consciousness was of his sister. He splashed into the ocean and dropped to the bottom like a stone. Startled fish darted away, angry at the disturbance. Paz was fully contained in the cocoon. The Chosen One molted.