Cracks in the Shell

Chapter 25

The fountain took Henry’s breath away. About the size of a carousel, it had carvings of baka decorating its edge. They surrounded a low pool, from which a short pillar rose. A jet of water gurgled atop this column, sparkling in the torchlight and sending reflections across the cavern walls. This light show also bathed a sword in the center of the spray. The weapon plunged downward through the water stream, like the Arthurian myth, except this blade was thinner and more ornate. 

“I’ve never seen a sword like that,” Jell said. 

“A rapier, Spanish by the look of it,” Henry encircled the weapon. A series of complex, sweeping rings festooned its hilt. “Probably belonged to a Conquistador.” As he rounded the fountain, Henry noticed the pool itself wasn’t a perfect circle.

“It’s heart shaped,” he said, scratching his beard. The base had two bulges that formed the unmistakable shape. So the fountain’s a heart pierced by a sword, Henry thought, but instead of blood it pumps water. 

“That’s the veve for Ayzili,” Jell said, “a fierce protector lwa.”

“Hmmm, explains the sword.” Somehow, Henry wasn’t surprised. It made sense to pay homage to a fierce spirit if you wanted to protect the archives. But his gut told him there was more here.

“We need to keep looking through the scrolls,” Jell said, turning away.

“No, Riyal would’ve already done that.” Henry sat down at the edge of the fountain. “I think the answers we seek are encoded here.”

“But there’s no text.”

“In the Middle Ages…” Henry began but saw that Jell didn’t understand. “In my world, there was a time when lessons were told in stone, through statues and wall reliefs. Maybe the people who built this place were trying to do the same thing – teach us something regardless what language we speak.”

“Who do you think carved this fountain?” Jell asked. 

Henry twisted his university ring, lost in thought. “The Taino Indians, Conquistadors, lost British colonists…maybe all of the above,” he said with a hint of excitement in his voice.

* * * 

The current pulled their raft away from the shore, but no one minded at this point. As each swell reached its peak, the expedition party was given fresh views of the baka army, retreating angrily from the surf. The creatures now covered the dunes like ants, rows of them stretching off into the distance. 

“They’ve formed ranks,” Carlos said in awe, “like a human army.”

Ayzili frowned. “They’ve brought water. That’s a bad sign.”

A few of the crabs bunched around what appeared to be giant sea anemones, tugging at their tentacles like a litter of nursing puppies.

“They only bring water on extended sieges,” Ayzili explained. Then she fell silent, starring at the ridge of a far dune. Framed amongst the hulking shadows of the baka, stood the silhouette of a solitary man. The figure stared at them for some time and then turned and walked down the opposite slope.

“Traitor.” Ayzili sunk her sword into the raft and collapsed next to it. “I hope they eat him alive.” Carlos noticed that the man next to her was bleeding severely across the chest.

“Where are you cut?” he asked him.

“Everywhere.” 

Carlos tore a piece of the blanket off the box tarp. “Apply pressure to the wound.” The man grimaced and did so. The cloth instantly turned crimson and then started to run as water mixed with the blood. Raindrops were falling from the sky, just a few at first, and then the clouds let loose with a strong downpour. Most of the men huddled up under the tarp. But Ayzili stood at the bow of the raft, staring blankly into the water ahead. As the deluge increased, the water’s surface broke with thousands of miniature explosions.