Last Chance

The mahogany canoe battled against an ebbing tide, barely making progress in the last thirty minutes. Junnu watched from atop a dune on the little island as a pelican dove headfirst into the water with a splash not far from the gunwale. The briny smell of ocean air washed over him pleasantly. Ten oars, five on either side, pulled powerfully by select hands from his father’s navy. Still, they struggled. A rogue wave crashing hard against the side nearly tipped it over. This was followed quickly by a flash of amber light and a puff of smoke, and the small craft righted itself. Junnu knew Alif, this father’s Vizier, must be onboard.

Absently, he twisted the red signet ring on his left index finger. The habit had become more frequent as his twenty-first birthday approached. Catching himself, he pulled his hands apart, hating the hold the evil object gained on him.

Suddenly, the ring shouted inside his mind, I THIRST! The voice thundered and echoed painfully. Junnu squeezed his palms against the sides of his head, gritting his teeth and resisting. With difficulty he suppressed the pulsing energy, the terrible will, of the ring. Falling to his hands and knees he placed his forehead into the warm sand and clenched his elbows to his ears.

As he regained control, he shut his eyes and allowed the wind to cool the sweat covering his body. Looking out he was surprised to see how much closer the boat was to the shore. He half heartedly flicked sand at a seagull that walked toward him, searching for food. The gray bird leapt into the air and let out a staccato cry as it flapped away.

Vizer Alif had conjured a lateen sail of translucent amber. Controlled by his magic the canoe nearly flew, crashing across the tops of the white capped surf.

Junnu got to his feet as the men pulled the boat above the water line. Two sailors effortlessly hoisted Alif’s exhausted body from the craft, holding him under his armpits and gently placing him on the sand. His yellow tunic was embroidered with gold leaf, as was his conical hat. He walked over to Junnu, bowed, touched his heart, lips and forehead, and said, “My prince, I hope I find you well?”

“Well enough, Alif. Please, sit, you look tired.”

“Thank you, my prince. I find it harder and harder to use the Power. I am not a young man like you anymore.”

“Ha! You’ll outlive us all, no doubt. But, um, seriously, I don’t know why my father must go to such lengths. A deserted island, really? He must know I’ll make the decision when the time is right.”

Alif looked down, thinking before answering. “The Sultan is not a patient man, my prince. He needs you to fulfill your destiny. Please, sire, do not resist the ring any further. Your father has instructed me to leave you here. The only way home is flying.”

Junnu licked his lips and frowned. “I know, he told me before I left. It’s just that I don’t want to do it. Why can’t I rule like a normal person? Why must we feed the ring?”

As they spoke the sailors dumped a man face down on the dunes. His thick curly hair was soaked with sea water and matted with sand. His copper-colored skin and powerfully muscled body were covered only with a loin cloth. They placed him above the high-water mark. Junnu could see the subtle movement of his chest as he breathed.

“My prince, that ring has been the source of your family’s power for countless generations. There is no point in resisting it. Lamashtu, the unquenchable thirst, will feed one way or another. You cannot stop it. Please, sire, use this man. If you do it before he awakens you will be home before us.” He noticed Junnu shaking his head. “If not, use this,” he said handing him a vial he pulled from a hidden pocket in his sleeve. “This is Udug, it’s a poison that will immobilize a man long enough for you to do what must be done.”  He placed his hand affectionately on Junnu’s forearm and said, “Farewell, my prince.”

Junnu stared longingly at the rowboat as it raced offshore, now aided by the tide. It latched onto the large ship anchored outside the rolling waves. A single great black sail billowed in the breeze. At the center of the sail his father’s emblem, a winged tiger standing on its hind legs, breathing fire and holding a scimitar in its left hand and a shield in the other, was outlined in bright orange.

When the boat was hull down on the horizon, he turned to look at the man they had left behind. As he approached, he unconsciously moved his hand and the ring toward the man’s neck. A needle popped out of the insignia at the center of the ring, a red spiral symbolizing death and chaos. Junnu flexed his biceps, hardly able to control his hand.  The ring pulled eagerly, insistently toward the man, like a bloodhound finding its’ scent.

I THIRST!

“Nooo!,” screamed Junnu as he yanked backward, losing his balance and falling to the sandy ground. The ring went silent.

Just then the man stirred, slowly rolled over and sat up. Squinting, he held his palm across his eyebrows to block the glare from the blazing sun. He looked around carefully before speaking, first at the ocean, then the wooded island behind them, and finally up and down the beach. He turned and looked at Junnu. The skinny youth wore a white tunic and leather sandals and had the light tan skin and straight black hair of a lowlander. He recognized the ring on his index finger immediately.

“You are Prince Junnu.”

Standing and shaking the dust from his tunic Junnu said, “That’s right. My father has abandoned us both on this island.”

The other man stood, wiped the sand from his sweaty body and said, “I am Basaph, a fisherman. Come, let’s get some shade.” He smiled and walked into the thick cover of palm trees, whose tops whispered gently as they swayed in the ocean breeze. Underbrush rustled as small animals skittered away, invisible under the canopy. Once off the beach the wind barely moved in the cool darkness of the jungle. A heavy, earthy smell permeated the strange forest.

“There is a clearing just ahead with a dugout and some supplies. My father is not entirely heartless,” said Junnu.

Basaph followed the dirt path with ease. The trees opened onto a campsite with a crude lean-to, a fire pit and several smooth stones for seating. He noticed there was only a single cot for sleeping. “This is cozy enough, but we will need food and firewood. I don’t suppose you have a knife or an ax?”

A shrug of his shoulders was Junnu’s apologetic response.

“Do not worry, I can help. Please pardon me as I, um, relieve myself.” He turned and loped off into the woods.

The sudden disappearance of the man worried Junnu. He briefly wondered if the man had escaped, but then realized he had no real need of him. The ring exploded in his head, I THIRST! KILL HIM! The ferocity of the command landed like a physical blow. He doubled over, retched violently and fell to the ground where he lay curled in a ball. He whimpered as the acid taste of vomit filled his mouth, before passing out.

As he awoke he found Basaph kneeling over him looking concerned. “Prince Junnu, are you alright? What has happened?” He helped him to a seated position and handed him a coconut with its top sliced off. Junnu swirled the first mouthful, spit it out, and then drank eagerly.

“Thank you,” he said. “It’s this damn ring. If you knew, you wouldn’t be helping me.” He glanced up at Baseph to see his reaction.

Basaph sat on the ground. “My father was an excellent storyteller. He told me of the red ring that you wear on your finger. Lamashtu, the unquenchable thirst, it is called, right?” He smiled then continued when Junnu nodded. “I know you must kill me with the ring to become a Titan. You must be having second thoughts since you didn’t do it on the beach.” He looked at Junnu with raised eyebrows.

“Yes! That’s it, that’s true.” He spoke quickly, leaning forward and gesticulating wildly. “Alif chose well when he picked you to, well, accompany me. Anyway, this ring has been a curse on my family for more than two hundred years. I believe the reason my father and grandfather and all the rest were evil, are evil, is because of this ring.” He gulped air, suddenly breathless.

“Well, Prince Junnu, you need not fear me. I will not attack you unless I am attacked. You see, the only way I can leave this island is with your help.”

Junnu considered that, and then is brow furrowed, something was different about Baseph. “Where did you get that necklace?”

He responded softly, poking the dead embers in the fire pit with a stick. “You don’t miss a thing. When your father invaded my country a few of us were lucky enough to escape. I ended up on the streets of your city, near the docks. It is a rough place for a child. This necklace was the only thing I was able to take with me; it is very precious. As you can imagine, nothing is safe among killers and thieves. I figured out the only way to keep it safe was to store it in my, um, well in my body.”

Junnu leaned away from him in horror.

“Do not worry, prince,” laughed Baseph, “I’ve washed it thoroughly and I’ll keep it wrapped in these leaves.” The pendant was encircled with dune grass and hung from a necklace made of vines crudely spun together. Still smiling he said, “We should eat. I saw a tide pool with a few small fish. Wait here. I’ll catch a few and gather some firewood.” Once again he trotted off into the jungle without waiting for an answer.

Junnu sat on the ground, shook his head at the odd turn of events and sipped from the coconut. As he turned the dark brown, hairy husk of a cup in his hand, pondering his next steps, he noticed the top of the coconut was cut off cleanly. He frowned, trying to remember where the cups were stored. He slowly twisted the ring as he considered.

There were no cups at the campsite. Did the sailors leave anything? No. Was there another campsite? Doubtful. Suddenly, he considered the possibility that Baseph had stored more than that necklace in his body. What if he had a knife? The ring sprang to life in his mind, talking this time instead of screaming.

He is going to kill you. Go to sleep and you are dead. He is going to kill you. Over and over and over the words reverberated, bouncing around, gaining momentum, gaining traction. Junnu vainly tried resisting, but soon gave up. As the last vestige of control fell away he was drawn into a trance. The ring shattered his will and overwhelmed him.

Baseph’s voice, singing a sea shanty, brought him back to reality.

Junnu knew what must be done. I will not fail you.

“We are in luck…” said Baseph as he entered the glade. But he stopped short, a stack of firewood cupped in both arms, held firmly against his chest. “What has happened? Did you have another battle with the ring?”

Junnu briefly covered his face with his hands to wipe away the tears and said, “Yes, my friend, but I’m feeling better now.” He extended the coconut cup toward Baseph. The poison was inside the milk, he was certain, although he had no memory of putting it there. “This coconut milk is delicious, please have some.”

“Thanks,” said Baseph who grabbed the cup with his left hand. He looked inside and swirled the fluid clockwise. Grabbing the pendant with his other hand he yanked it off the necklace, and then placed the cup to his lips. He wiped his mouth and dropped it to the ground.

Junnu waited briefly, “I am sorry, Baseph, but my father was right. I cannot fight my destiny. The poison you just drank will immobilize you. Don’t worry; Lamashtu works quickly, she is very thirsty. I am told it is mostly painless.” He could see Baseph’s jugular vein pulse and dilate as if drawn to the needle. He then lifted his hand and jammed the needle into the vein.

Lamashtu’s laughed exultantly in his mind.

Suddenly, he felt Baseph’s iron grasp on his wrist. His eyes flew open. “What? How?”

Baseph smiled. “My family has an heirloom, too,” he said through gritted teeth. “It was the only gift I received from my father before being slaughtered by your pig family.” He held up his right index finger with a blue insignia, two wavy figures overlapping. The needle popped out with a low click, and then he slammed it into Junnu’s chest. “I didn’t drink your poison, you fool. Now meet Enkidu, the shape shifter.”

Junnu’s mind instantly disengaged from his body. He drifted a foot or two away and regarded his body curiously. He sensed more than saw a similar spirit standing beside Baseph.

Baseph’s voice sounded as if it were under water, the words far away and languid. “I have waited many years for this moment. There is no time to explain how difficult my path has been. Just know this before you die: we are swapping bodies. My spirit will inhabit your body, become your Titan and rule in your stead. You die here.”

The red ring, the unquenchable thirst, the mighty Lamashtu drank until full, leaving the desiccated form of Baseph on the sandy floor. His shrunken husk was hardly recognizable as a human being.

Baseph’s spirit entered Junnu’s body and laughed joyously. He lamented the scrawny arms of his new form, but there was no time to waste. Concentrating, he felt the Titan trapped inside, demanding to come forth. Closing his eyes he touched thumb and middle finger on each hand, and eased into the transformation.

His body expanded massively, turning gray and hairy, a trunk burst out from his nose, his ears grew to size of barrels, and a second pair of arms, thick around as a hog’s head, expanded out of his trunk. Where Junnu had stood seconds ago a Titan emerged. An elephant with four arms stood upright on two tree-like legs. He unfurled enormous wings which projected off his back, lifted his head and trumpeted thunderously in the quiet night.

Dozens of birds, startled from their slumber, burst into the sky above the trees, cawing with fear.

He smiled his elephantine smile, turned east and launched into the air to take his revenge.