Scales and Swords ✓

7: King's Guard

With the bright blue stretched out above, and the sun nearing its peak, everything was going as planned. The sea still and the air alike, the heat of the day only rose. The town was alive with people rushing to and fro, preparing for the big event at midday—the awakening of the Damdam a.k.a. snail.

"You sure this will work?" I asked Philip as we headed towards the cliff.

"I'm sure this'll work. But..." his voice trailed off and he halted. "But nothing. This will go smoothly, hopefully."

"You don't sound so sure," I grumbled.

"Trust me alright. You have issues." He smirked.

"No I don't."

"Yes you do," he teased.

I scoffed, ending the bickering. "What if it doesn't?"

"Plan B."

"What if plan B doesn't work?"

Philip folded his arms over his chest and stared ahead, stoic. "We'll see how it goes. Don't worry, let me worry."

The whole village gathered at a cliff, where the snail's head would come up. The chief and his sidekick ladies sat in a little shelter that had been specially prepared for them for the ceremony. The mage who'd be waking it stood at the edge, dressed in only a grass-skirt. He sat there, in meditation pose, not looking up for anybody.

"Has it already started?" I asked Philip.

He looked over and down at me. "He's working on it."

"And then, how does this work? He'll just borrow a little of its magic and undo the curse?"

"Hopefully it's just a little."

I felt like I had just smacked right into a brick wall. "But you told the chief that we'd only use a tiny bit. You lied to the chief?!"

He scowled. "Sshh keep it down, you lied too, don't forget that."

"I-I, that doesn't count, you lied about it first."

A resonating dong sound interrupted Philip.

"Stand back," the old chief said. "Silence while the mage works, or suffer the consequences."

I hung my head in defeat, this man was the end of me.

Silence, suffoacting silence, as my mind chruned a million questions. The village people sat about on the grass, not one daring to disobey the chief's orders. The chief shut his eyes and sat in meditation, almost imitating the mage. We waited and waited and finally a large round ball rose from just off the cliff's edge. The silence continued as the ball rose higher on its neck-like structure. Another ball followed beside it.

"Those are the eyes," Philip said.

I nodded, mesmerized by the sight of this ancient magical creature. Soon both its eyes were lifted to equal heights. The mage stood, chanting strange words. He moved his arms about as if in dance. As he worked, the atmosphere turned tense and suffocating, it felt like everyone had been holding their breaths. I wiped the sweat off my brow and gulped, my throat was a desert. I looked to Philip who was pale-faced to say the least, maybe even more than we all were. I nudged him and he looked down at me, bewildered.

"What's wrong?" I whispered.

"It's not working." He said, shaking his head in disbelief.

"What do you mean? Its awake isn't it?"

"He's not rejuvenating the island; the snail's magic feels the same."

"Why don't you help him?"

"I can't. Its magic will kill him if I distract him. This simply needs to end."