“Not even the Iberian pirates sail here,” Manuel said while adjusting the harness straps across his chest. “They say the depths are cursed.”
“They probably spread the rumor to keep their treasure safe!” Carlos replied, getting in one last chuckle before putting in his mouthpiece. The sylph-generated oxygen entered his lungs.
Carlos turned away from Manuel and lumbered across the deck of the skiff towards Luisa and Antonio. The two treasure-hunters were sitting on the edge of the small craft clipping weight belts to their waists.
Carlos moved slowly and hunched over to compensate for the 40 kilograms twin-hose aluminium double-tank aqualung rig strapped to his back. He sat down on the skiff’s edge by his additional gear: two extra lamps for safety, each diver always had two backups, some net sacks to retrieve any valuables discovered, and the guideline, which he’d be responsible for.
Carlos was eager for the weightlessness promised by the sea.
“Maybe the pirates drown in the cave while hiding their gold. Their loss, our gain, right?” Antonio said with a smirk. The playboy winked his eye at Manuel and inserted his mouthpiece.
“May God rest their souls if that’s true,” Manuel said. The action of lowering his goggles over his eyes was quickly followed by the sign of the cross across his wetsuit.
“Hell, if they’re still shambling around down there,” Louisa added, “they’ll take a celestium spear to the head!” Louisa raised her speargun like a proud warrior. In went her mouthpiece.
“People go missing down there and yet you all joke,” Manuel said. “What kind of treasure gains its value in corpses?” Manuel mumbled more to himself than to be heard by anyone in particular.
Manuel shuffled over to the other three deep sea adventurers and placed in his mouthpiece.
There would be no more talking from here on in.
Manuel activated his headlamp. He raised a hand to the captain and the navigator, signalling that the four explorers were about to dive into the sea.
Carlos ensured the guideline was secured to the boat and was the first off the boat. Then, one by one, the divers fell backwards over the side of the skiff into the cold and still waters of the Noxpraeterium Sea.
Manuel let his body sink a few feet before kicking out with his flippers to straighten and turn his body. Manuel placed his arms close and kept his breathing calm to conserve oxygen. After a few kicks downward, the bottom of the skiff was gone. The night sky and stars were gone.
The darkness of the deep stretched out beyond him.
The light from Manuel’s headlamp was barely enough to make out the forms of his descending colleagues, their forms mildly silhouetted by the glow of their own light sources.
Going down was the easy part, Manuel thought.
Ten minutes later, and the team was 200 metres below the surface, at the mouth of the fabled cave. The sylph-elemental didn’t only help fill their lungs with pure oxygen due to a symbiotic process, it also powered a propeller unit attached to their tanks. It would take the explorers hours to return to the surface as they’d have to schedule stops along the way to avoid the bends. They’d be lucky if they could get back to the skiff before sunrise.
Carlos secured the guideline to an anchor point outside the cave entrance. Antonio and Louisa settled in behind him. Carlos turned to give them a thumbs up.
Manuel descended and joined the group; he gave them an affirmative wave. Carlos nodded and entered the cave, taking point with the guideline into the darkness.
Thirty minutes had slipped by as the treasure hunters glided through the cave’s passages. Their headlamps did a superb job of lighting up the tunnels along the way. Up ahead, though, beyond a ninety-degree turn that his team had already cleared, Manuel could see Carlos bathed in a luminescent golden glow that came from a larger cavern within.
There was about twenty feet between Carlos and Manuel. Antonio and Louisa moved along, an equal distance apart, excited about their discovery.
Manuel had stopped moving. He was certain that treasure didn’t glow–and no matter how impressive their headlamps were, they weren’t strong enough to fill an entire area with a glowing aura.
Carlos and Antonio entered the cavern. Louisa glanced back at Manuel and motioned for him to keep up with the group. The passage between Manuel and Louisa was lit with two crisscrossing lamp lights for a moment, until Lousa entered the cavern. Manuel reluctantly guided himself down the dark tunnel towards the glowing chamber.
Manuel stopped himself at the cavern entrance. The room was, indeed, filled with treasure. Dozens of wooden chests, ancient unrecognizable armours and weapons, and art objects in the shape of sea creatures he had never seen.
The most impressive object in the area wasn’t the treasure, though: it was an enormous sea anemone… a glowing one. The lit-up sea cavern must have been thirty feet high; this sea plant’s tentacle limbs–hundreds of them–brushed against the stone surface above. The basal disk was thick, easily twenty feet in diameter.
Antonio was near the basal disk inspecting a breastplate made of gold and coral.
Carlos was drifting near the swaying tentacles above them, enthralled by the immensity of the sea plant.
Louisa had her celestium spear harpoon at the ready. Her eagerness and curiosity quickly fading.
Manuel was still at the entrance when a low vibration spread out from the sea anemone. Manuel could feel it in his eardrums.
And then all was dark. Even their headlamps were extinguished.
Manuel scrambled for his backup lamp. He flipped the on-switch. A beam of white light cut through the deep darkness, and Manuel pointed it into the cavern.
In the next three second of his life, Manuel knew it was all over for the divers. They wouldn’t make it to the surface. This was their last deep sea treasure hunt.
Carlos floated limply, half way into the giant sea anemone’s tentacle mass, the ancient breastplate slipping from his fingers.
Antoine was subdued by three tentacles, one of them firmly around the exposed skin of his checks. He looked like a marionette, Manuel thought.
Louisa’s legs were entangled by one extended tentacle, while she held off another with her speargun. She stopped struggling when the tentacle touched her exposed hand.
Louisa’s speargun arm floated behind her. A muscle spasm, brought on by the paralyzing poison of the anemone tentacle, caused her to fire the celestium spear in Manuel’s direction. It narrowly missed his head and pierced his rebreather tank instead.
All this, Manuel saw in three slow seconds. His lungs hurt as the sylph-elemental was expelled from his tank. Without the sylph-elemental, his body’s adaptability to the higher pressure at these depths was reduced significantly.
The sylph-elemental was a primal creature. If given the opportunity to be free, it would take it. Unfortunately, at this depth, the oxygen content in the water was as fatal for the sylph as it was for Manuel.
Bubbles gathered around the tank as the sylph rebuilt its bird-like elemental form. It panicked when it realized it was nowhere near the air. It even struggled to re-enter the rebreather tank, but it was too late. The damage was done. The sylph’s essence was corrupted and it was dissipating.
Manuel’s eyes glossed over as he watched his three colleagues disappear into the anemone’s mass. It was the last thing he saw as he began to lose consciousness. He’d drown before he was rescued.
“The Belly of the Deep Sea Cavern” by Nuno Teixeira © 2012, XEI
Licensed under the Creative Commons License By-NC-SA
You can share and distribute this story, but can NOT make profit off it, and MUST share it freely as well with the same CC-License indicated above.
You MUST include the proper Attribution with the shared story:
“Written by Nuno Teixeira, © 2011, XEI, http://www.nunoxei.com”
A frozen pig carcass hung from the ceiling, swinging from a chain. Light glinted off the tip of the hook that emerged from its trotters. Aranax pushed the slab of meat so that it swung back and forth, chain creaking. His own chains, four of them protruding from his back, moved around him like snakes, silent and graceful.
Two red eyes blinked in the darkness of the sewer, eyes glowing like the embers of a dying fire. Sewer Rat sat huddled on top of his pile of soggy, stinking clothing that he had dragged down into the sewers to use as his bed. He’d used the stinger on his tail to numb his victims and then, laughing and chattering to himself, he’d ripped the clothing from their bodies and raced back into the depths with his prize. He could only imagine the looks on his victims’ faces once they were able to move again.
I feel inclined to write up an summary of what is to follow. It was initially written as a 500 word short story as a fill in page of content for my comic Raven Nevermore #1. It was intended as a “bridge piece” establishing a proper homage to the comic’s obvious inspiration: Edgar Allan Poe’s masterful poem, “The Raven”. The content of the piece wasn’t overtly IN the actual comic but it was definitely floating in my subconscious as the pre-framework that structured the actual 8-issue origin story for its protagonist, Corvan Moore.
