Chapter 14 - Belly of the Beast

by james attwood

Tap. Tap. Tap.

            Drops of water began to splash across his cheek. Soon an arctic cool stream could be felt trickling down his body, from the tips of his feet to his chin. That’s strange, he thought, shouldn’t it be going the other way. Its flow became steadier, colder, and soon it dripped from the side of his head to the cavernous depths below.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

            Eventually the icy touch of the waters became too cold to simply ignore, and Orson opened his eyes. He was in some pitch-black void, yet he could immediately tell that the water wasn’t flowing the wrong way, it was him that was upside down. Something coiled around him and had pulled painfully tight, yet it held him, suspended in mid-air. He’d awoken in a daze, but now little Orson began to panic. He remembered where he’d been last, sinking into the mud, thinking he was never going to escape. Perhaps he hadn’t, perhaps this was it, perhaps this was the Annwn his cousin had been talking about all along. Tears slowly trickled the wrong way as well, as he whimpered in the dark. He might have cried and cried had his sobbing not roused a sigh from above. I’m not alone. Rummaging through his coat pockets, which was particularly difficult given that his left arm was bound to his side, he pulled out his torch. Please work, please work, he prayed as he went to flick it on. The ensuing light was dim, yet to his delight it illuminated his father, caked in mud, and tangled up in the same rope that he was, hanging ten feet above.

            “Dad!” Orson shouted for joy; he was surprised at how his voice echoed in this place.

            With the light concentrated on his face Lewis seemed to come to, “Or...Orson?” He mumbled, bleary eyed and as confused as his son was. When they’d gone under he’d feared that would be the end. His last memory was descending through the liquid mire, eyes closed and unable to breathe. “Where are we?”

            “I don’t know...” Orson waved the torch light around, with it smooth cavern walls glistened with water. They were seemingly stuck in some kind of cave shaft.

            “Are you hurt?” Lewis could see the length of rope he’d hurried to secure around his son had held tight, if not too tight, though he was sure it was better than the alternative. He could barely feel his own arm, his haphazard knots had slipped and coiled around it, bearing Orson’s weight for goodness knows how long.

            “I think I’m okay.” Orson swayed in the air as he tried to shuffle his arm free, but his father quickly dissuaded him.

            “Easy, hold still! We don’t want to fall from this...” He wiped at his eyes with his one free hand hoping to clear them, yet he realised the blurriness stemmed from his lack of glasses. Squinting, he asked, “Shine the torch around again.”

            It illuminated another fifty or so feet of this tunnel stretching above before it faded into darkness again, their rope pulled taught all the way. Below was closer, perhaps only thirty feet, yet they hung above a cluster of rock formations that stretched up like misaligned teeth. Dotted amongst them were the scattered bones of unfortunate beasts that had fallen into this same trap, albeit with no tether to save them. Lewis grimaced and tried to settle Orson down as the sight made his son tremble, almost losing the slippery flashlight as he jumped.

            “It’s alright, it’s alright. We’re safe up here. Maybe we can just...” Lewis pulled at the rope around his waist with one arm, hoping he might be able to climb it. Instead, it only seemed to bring down more water upon them from above, the distinctly salty sloshes that found their way into his mouth giving him pause. Exhausted he slumped to his uncomfortable suspension once more and peered downwards, noticing a pool of water beginning to swell around the perilous stones, “...or not.” His concern grew as it became clear just how stuck they were, “You brought spare batteries for that thing right?”

            “Obviously.” Orson answered with self-surety, though he was hoping to save them for something else, “But they’re in my Walkman.”

            “You brought your Walkman? All the way out here?” Lewis uttered in disbelief, then again he knew just how much Orson would listen to it. It wasn’t a Walkman per se, but a child friendly device his son had grown awful fond of over the years, always playing the same handful of his favourite songs on repeat.

            “Well, uh, yeah.” Orson came over a little shy, slightly embarrassed to think he’d be treasuring such a toy in a place like this. “I didn’t know where we were going at the time! And it helps me sleep.”

            “You don’t have to explain yourself to me.” Lewis smiled a broad smile, it comforted him to be back with his son and his peculiar habits. He soon set his mind back to freeing themselves of this entanglement however, “I think we should move before this place is underwater. Maybe I can lower you down carefully, around the stalactites.”

            “Don’t you mean stalagmites?” Orson corrected.

            “That’s what I said.” Lewis continued to wrestle carefully with the knots that squeezed him like a constrictor.

            “Stalactites come from the top; stalagmites grow from the bott-”

            “The rocks okay, I’ll try and lower you down between the rocks.”

            Mildly frustrated with his entanglement he pulled at a mess of knots with too much vigour, loosening the lengths that bound his waist and sending him spiralling down like some out of control circus act. He barely managed to stop himself in time as he wrapped his other arm around the taught rope, stopping Orson with a sudden yank mere feet above the tips of the stalagmites, face to face with the pierced skull of some long dead animal.

            Lewis growled with discomfort as both arms were now wrapped in their safety net. “You okay Orson!?”

            “I’m fine...” He wept, staring wide eyed at the bony facade of what could have been him had they fallen any further.

            “Ignore the bones, they’re just unlucky critters.” He hoped his son hadn’t seen the fractures of human remains yet.

            “Okay...” Orson continued to mumble; they were closer to the floor now, yet just as trapped. However, from his new position he could see that this free fall opened into a far larger network of caverns, “This cave’s huge Dad!”

            “Let’s focus on getting down first...” Lewis pieced together their predicament now and feared they might be caught in some feeding hole; afraid they might have only fallen further into the Afanc’s lair, “...and try to stay quiet.”

            Orson complied, without a word he craned his neck to see his father’s face above and nodded. He whispered, “What do we do now?”

            “I’m afraid this mess of a rope just got worse...” An idea sprung to mind as he looked at the boneyard below, “Can you reach that skull for me?”

            Most disturbed, Orson questioned, “Do I have to?”

            “Just be brave alright.” It wasn’t the ideal father-son bonding Lewis had hoped for, entwined in this death trap, but he appealed to his son as if this were an ordinary task to be solved. Can’t hold onto this for much longer as it is, he worried.

            It was all the encouragement Orson needed to hear as he slipped the torch between his teeth and stretched out for the skull with his one free arm. He squirmed as he set to the task, yet he wouldn’t let his father down. The rock had begun to encompass the bone, clearly it had been down here for a while despite the water having cleaned it to an ivory white shine. Eventually it broke in two and pulled free from the caves hold. Now free in his hand it clearly resembled some beast of burden, a horse or cow that had been taken to Cantre’r Gwaelod to start a new life, only to fall into this pit and become brittle with age.

            “Sorry, it broke.” He looked up apologetically, shards of bone in his hands.

            “No that’s perfect. Now I’m going to lower you down okay, I’ll do it slowly, until you think you’re in a safe spot.”

            “Uh alright.” He was barely ten feet off the floor but was mortified at the prospect of landing in this pit voluntarily.

            “You ready?” Lewis maintained eye contact with his boy now.

            “Ready.”

            Lewis steadily loosened his grip on the rope that held them aloft and eased himself, and his son, down towards the stalagmites. Orson navigated the handful of formations that rose beneath him, nestling himself between them and above the shallow pool that was the floor.

            “You good? Nothing underneath you?” Lewis asked, still locking eyes.

            Orson swivelled on the spot, bumping into the columns either side of him as he struggled to look below. Barring some undefined smattering of indistinct remains he appeared to be safe, “Nope.”

            “Good job. Now all I need you to do is cut the rope with that piece of bone.” He gestured to the length that pulled taught between his arm and his son’s waist.

            “What about you?” He worried.

            “I’ll do the same, just after, otherwise I’d be coming down on top of you.”

            “Oh, true.” Content with the plan, Orson began to saw at the base of the rope with the fractured jawbone. It took some work, the jagged remains weren’t the perfect tool, but eventually the rope frayed and snapped, and with a splash he landed in the pool. It’s freezing temperatures quickly reminded him of the frigid depths he’d plunged into in the mines.

            “You okay son?”

            “Yeah...” Orson got to his feet and began to untangle himself from the rope, “...just wish I could get through one day without getting soaked.”

            “Better than the alternative.” Lewis chuckled. He began to rotate his arm to get the blood flowing now that it was loose whilst his son seemed preoccupied with something below, “Pass me the bone would you?”

            “Oh sorry.” Orson snapped back to reality; he’d been curiously fishing around the pool in search of something.

            Whether it was due to a lack of coordination from Orson or Lewis’s less than ideal position, it took a few attempts of throwing the jawbone up before it was caught. Each time it fell a hollow clatter echoed throughout the chamber and into the cave system ahead. Orson could hear something shifting in the darkness, bristles scratching against the walls pierced the silence like scratchings on a chalk board. The curious noise edged closer and closer, until its source appeared from the gloomy beyond. Orson froze in fear, so much so that he couldn’t avert his torch light as it bathed the tip of a familiar monster’s snout. As if the water worn formations of the cave had come alive the skeletal head of the Afanc stooped ahead, pausing as it crawled through a connecting passage to work out what it had heard. It loomed closer, those jaws stretching into the dead end they’d fallen into.

            Orson’s lips trembled uncontrollably; he was ready to scream when his father’s hand clasped over his mouth from behind. Pulling him in close, Lewis laid back in the water slowly, into the bed of bones, and pulled the nearest cadaver he could find over them. Those elongated mandibles stretched above them now, that bullish snorting trying to sniff out their presence. Out from the moth-eaten hide that draped whatever beast they’d hidden under crawled an enormous centipede, its finger length legs prodded and explored their bodies as they tried to remain motionless. Orson’s muffled protests came from behind Lewis’s palm as its spindly form crept across his face and back into the bones below them.

A last waft of viscous air blew into the hollow above as the Afanc, dissatisfied with the false promise of fresh meat, pulled its head back through and resumed its course down the passage. The girth of its body practically filled the tunnels of this honeycomb network and eventually that paddle like tail disappeared deeper into the catacombs. With the coast clear they both let out a sigh of relief and hurried out from the infested remains they’d hidden within.

            “That...that was close.” Lewis struggled to get his breath back.

            “Thank...thank...you...dad.” Orson wheezed, still somewhat mortified.

            “No problem, you and me, we’re a team.” Lewis cautiously peered out of the tunnel, “I’m pretty sure it’s blind, so if we stay quiet and out of its way, we should be alright.”

            “I found your glasses!” Orson held them up with glee upon remembering what he’d been scouring for. Apart from the odd scratch and an expected crack or two, they were remarkably intact.

            “No way!” Lewis stuck them back on and their murky surroundings suddenly became crystal clear. What he was most happy to see was his son’s chuffed little face staring back up at him, his unperturbed optimism clear as day even through the muck and grazes. His little boy had certainly grown up, perhaps a little too quickly, though a part of Lewis feared he’d put on a brave face no matter what so long as dad was around. He scooped some of the water in his hand to wipe the mud from his face and with a smile he said, “There you are.”

            Orson grinned and did the same to his father. The brief respite was soon overshadowed by their predicament, however. Orson asked, “Where do you think the others are?”

            “Up top I hope...” Lewis stared up at the shaft they’d fallen down, its heights appearing almost infinite in the pitch black. “This water, it’s seawater. I think the flood gates might have broken again. Meaning we should look for another way out...” He surveyed the numerous nooks and crannies the cave sprawled into beyond, wishing Aria was here to offer some sage caving advice, “...one of these have to lead back up above.”

            “Do you think they’re okay...” Orson murmured, glumly looking at his own feet.

            “Hey, hey. Of course they are, they’re survivors.” Lewis placed his hands on his son’s shoulders, “We’re survivors too. This is just like two days ago okay, we’re lost now, but we’ll all find each other again.”

            “And then we can go back and see mum and Coop?” He raised his head and asked after what he’d been longing for all this time.

            “You bet.” Lewis stood up and patted Orson’s back, “Now come on, we don’t want to keep your mother waiting.”

*

The sprawling cave system was far more extensive than Lewis had anticipated. He’d quietly led his boy through passage after passage, squeezed through promising gaps only to be led into dead end after dead end. Whether it felt as if they were going up or down, all roads seemed to loop back into the large, central hollow that lay at the base. It was beginning to appear as if this network was of the Afanc’s making entirely, and they’d been endlessly running loops around its lair all whilst the water level steadily rose. Brown slurry now swashed at their shins no matter where they tread and finding an exit from this maze seemed hopeless. Lewis sighed as he came across a familiar cross etched into the wall; one he’d scratched there earlier. I’ve got no idea what I’m doing, we’re going to run out of light before we find a way out.

            “Back where we started.” He grunted, feeling infuriatingly useless down in this maze.

            “Ugh.” Even Orson grew frustrated. He was exhausted and longed to rest his eyes even if just for a moment but feared what might come creeping out of the dark if he did. “There has to be a way we haven’t tried yet.”

            “Probably several but you tell me which one’s we haven’t tried; they all look the bloody same!” Lewis slumped against the wall, sliding down to sit on the uncomfortable crags. His boy looked dejected and awkwardly checked the batteries of their only torch. “I’m sorry Orson, I’m just tired.”

            “What...what would auntie Aria do?” Orson had kept the carabiner locked into the loop of his belt, ready to return it when he saw her next.

            “Not fall into a damn sinkhole in the first place.” Lewis snapped, he wasn’t angry at his son, but to be stuck like this after all they’d been through felt like some cruel joke.

            “I didn’t fall! I jumped, so did you!” Orson rebuked, after all the way he’d seen it his father and him had done the exact same thing.

            “You jumped!? You-why? Why would you-” Lewis had only come across the tail end of the scene above but was ready to tell Orson off for whatever irresponsible action he’d taken.

            “To help Fred, you saw! He fell in first so I... I didn’t know what to do.” His little voice tempered somewhat in recalling the events, the sinking sensation still traumatised him.

            “You went in after Fred? Orson you...” Lewis muttered at the realisation, he thought it had all been an accident but of course he followed someone else. “You can’t just jump into these situations without thinking, you could have been hurt, or worse.”

            “I was only trying to help, Fred needed help and...” Orson couldn’t quite decipher why he’d upset his father, “...I was just trying to be brave...like you.”

            “There’s being brave and there’s-” Lewis held his tongue, this was neither the place nor the time for a drawn out talk between the two. “Just following your cousins into this world, jumping headfirst into danger...if something were to happen to you Orson I don’t know what I’d do. I promised your mother I’d bring you back...I promised.” Lewis dwelled on the memory of Cara’s face in that moment, her expression of utter faith coupled with inescapable worry. “You’re smart, like, really smart. Just think about everyone else before you put yourself in harm’s way.”

            “But you’ve always put yourself in harm’s way for us...” Orson spoke of his family as if they were still beside him, almost disappointed to see no one over his shoulder.

            “I know, but I’m old and can do what I want.” He smirked and held out his hand for his boy to help him back up, “Now that we’re back together let me be the stupid one again alright?”

            Orson, annoyed at his father’s prodding, tugged at his hand. “It goes both ways Daddy, we worry about-”

            “Shh!” Lewis dashed his son’s thoughts when he heard other voices nearby. The two of them hugged the warped wall of the cavern and spied through the interweave of the cave’s teeth.

            Walking through the nest of bones and rotten meat were Efnysien and Grigor, illuminated by the flame of some long disused torch held high by the immortal.

            “I wish you’d snuff that out!” Grigor protested, wading through the mess of the beast’s past meals that now floated up to his waist.

            “I can’t see shit without it!” Efnysien spat, that obsidian blade drawn as if he expected company at any moment.

            “I told you, I can!” Grigor pointed to his amber eyes that shone in the shadow.

            “Well, I don’t trust your eyes dwarf.”

            “And I don’t trust you leaving a trail of smoke for that damned thing to sniff out!” The pair were at each other’s throats without Gwydion to keep them in check.

            “This coming from the creature who smells like rotten arse.” Efnysien scoffed then demanded, “Find us a way out of here already before I gut you and leave you for bait.”

            “Born and bred underground over here you halfwit, I’m working on it. Trying to listen if you’d ever shut that mouth of yours for a second.” The dwarf gave as good as he got, though as the irony of his last comment dawned on him, he added, “No offence.”

            “You’re wasting my time; I can find my own way out of a cave.” Efnysien trudged ahead of his stout guide, waving that torch, and kicking up a storm of swampy water in his wake.

            “Quiet down would ya!” Grigor whispered as loud as he could with some concern in his voice, both hands held high signalling for the madman to show some caution.

            Efnysien stopped and turned, what little patience he had had worn thin and he’d been longing to silence this coranwr. “So help me dwarf, one more word and I’ll end your pathetic race once and for all.”

            There was no witty comeback from Grigor this time, he merely closed all but one of his fingers in one hand, slowly pointing behind the ignorant Efnysien. The flickering flames of his fire were tiny in the midst of this chamber, yet every so often the light danced across the face of the Afanc behind. Even laying low as it were its unmoving profile was enormous, invisible in the encompassing dark yet unmissable as Efnysien swung his torch.

            “Son of a-” Efnysien gasped before the beast sprung for him.

            The light of the torch flashed sporadically as the immortal swung his blade wildly in the dark, one moment illuminating the might of this gargantuan beast and leaving all to the imagination the next. Eventually Efnysien’s curses and the creature’s guttural growls fell silent, and the light dimmed for good. All that could be heard were his furious efforts to rekindle the flame. He chipped away in the dark until finally it’s light came alive once more, revealing the Afanc’s maw poised above him. The jaws clamped down with a thunderous force, snuffing out the light for good and any sign of Efnysien with it, doomed to the stomach of this monstrosity.

            Lewis and Orson found it hard to avert their eyes from the chaotic encounter as it unfolded, yet once the immortal had been gulped down in full their focus shifted to the dwarf who stood, frozen with fear, before the beast. The coranwr’s scent was indeed potent and it soon caught the Afanc’s nose.

            “We have to help him!” Orson whispered, tugging at his father’s arms.

            “He’s, he’s uh...” Lewis tussled with the idea, rocking his head with indecision.

            “Daaad come on!” Orson wouldn’t be denied, he bore no sympathy for Efnysien, but this short fellow was an unknown quantity to him and thus practically innocent in his eyes.

            “Okay, okay, fine.” Lewis gave in. He didn’t share his boy’s optimism for this dishevelled creature yet garnering from what he’d heard he might be their only way out of this labyrinth. His fingers intertwined for a second as he scoured his brain for some flash of inspiration, then it came to him. “Your Walkman!” Orson knew exactly where it was within his densely packed bag and offered it to his father, Lewis then edged to a larger hole in the wall. “I promise I’ll buy you another one.”

            He flicked the volume on full and clicked play. A garish children’s tune began to blurt out from its tiny speaker, complete with overjoyed lyrics and carnivalesque instruments. It echoed throughout the cave as he threw it as far as he could beyond the beast, the whimsical ditty a bizarre accompaniment to these dire depths. Regardless the noise caught the creature’s attention as it stopped sniffing and turned furiously towards where the Walkman had landed, descending on it with all its weight. Grigor spared no time to ponder on the origin of this curious intervention and fled in the opposite direction, out of the chamber and into a passage a ways down from them. For a man so stunted he shuffled away with surprising haste. The Afanc still tore at the noise that gurgled from the depths, but soon grew wise to the distraction. Behind the latticed wall the father and son began to have the same panicked thought.

            In unison they uttered, “We should follow him!”

            Hoping to catch up with their only hope of finding a way out they abandoned any subtlety and dashed for the same entrance the dwarf had disappeared into, the raucous roar of the Afanc echoing throughout the cave behind them. They could hear its destructive mass in pursuit, the forceful plodding of its two claws clambering through the winding passage after them, yet they couldn’t bring themselves to look back. What little Orson’s flashlight lit up seemed to confine rapidly, those waved walls narrowing as they descended further and further. The stagnant water they trudged through began to flow like a river, and soon they were on the precipice of a very sudden, very steep drop into a narrow tunnel, down which the flow erupted into rapids. The Afanc squeezed through after them, crashing through rock formations as if they were porcelain, contorting the very cave to its own brutish form. They had no time to waste, Lewis threw and arm around Orson and together they dived into the tunnel, praying they’d seen the worst of this subterranean hell.

            Torrents of water washed over them as they slid down the claustrophobic flume, the unending assault on their senses reminding them of their sinking into the suffocating swamp. The light swung wildly against the tunnel walls, adding to the maniacal nature of this terrifying descent. Just as their momentum seemed to build to a dangerous hurtle, to a point where they feared they couldn’t ever stop, they slid out into another cavernous chamber. Like the waterfall whose heights they fell from they crashed against a menagerie of smooth, water hewn rock faces, before finally tumbling into the tumultuous foamy depths at its base.

            That flashlight barely pierced a meter in these murky waters as Orson frantically kicked and pushed to make it to the surface. He’d lost sight of his father, separated as they hit the first rock, and now his right leg throbbed with pain from the impact he’d suffered. Thoughts of the lady of the lake rushed through his mind, dreams of last-minute rescues as Hope would reach out for his hand. Yet no such miracle came for him. Finally, with a desperate gasp for air, he surfaced. It was, as ever, pitch black. Emerging with some effort from the slippery slopes of the pool he raised his torch and saw his father, stood still, staring into some unseen void.

            “Dad? That was scary!” Orson called out to him yet there was no response, not even a glance his way. “Daddy? Are you alright?”

            “Do you hear that son?” Lewis craned his head, enamoured with some distant melody. Now that he mentioned it Orson could hear something too, though to him it felt far shriller and more uninviting. Without a care for his boy’s condition, he stepped forward, then began to amble in a trance towards the darkness. “It’s beautiful.” He slurred.

            Orson tried to follow yet his leg gave way beneath him, that aching sensation immeasurably worse now that he was out of the water. It was as if dagger tipped claws gripped at his ankle, adamant on keeping him from his father. Keeled on the floor he shouted after him to no avail, and eventually he vanished from the reach of his light.

Slumped in the darkness, a lost soul once more, he gazed around. The torrent of water drowned much of the ambience away, yet that haunting melody still managed to reach his ears from beyond. Invisible spectres scuttled and hissed in the dark, their every noise making Orson jump and shine his light in fear. He felt as if the oppressive darkness was merely waiting for him to give up, looming out of sight until he laid down and surrendered. He wanted to. He wanted to close his eyes and forget all of this. But he couldn’t, he wouldn’t. Not now. Dad needs my help. Perhaps this required bravery, perhaps he needed his smarts, or even to be stupid. He’d be whatever he needed to be. He wiped a tear from his cheek and hobbled to his feet.

            “I’m coming Dad.”