Waves like living mountains crashed against the ship’s hull. Mist sprayed Babalon’s face. She strained with each heave of the boatman’s pole through the thick molasses of the rampaging waters, the boat barely cresting over each barrage of frenzied buckling. Where the waves could not reach, the water’s white noise flooded, spilling out in reverse from the sea up to the black abyss. Abel, for his part, cupped his long fingers and scooped water from the boat.
The only direction that made sense to Babalon was that against the current. Wherever was farthest from where they had started. It would be intolerable to make a turn and find themselves back on the same shores from which they started. Besides, she now understood nature itself to be her enemy. It wanted her to fail. To burn alive from the inside and forever left to wander a desert of lost souls. And so, whichever path which revealed more and more of nature’s thorny cock could only ever be the right one.
Abel turned his head skywards. He held one hand out to the air.
Listen.
Scanning the stormy waters, Babalon heard nothing but the surge of water and the crash of hatchet waves.
“I can only hear the storm, Abel.”
Below.
Babalon furrowed her brow.
“What?”
A cacophonous eruption of crunching wood sent them flying to opposite ends. Wood chips catapulted in every direction as the boat began to fold in two. Enormous circle rows of teeth belonging to a giant worm gnawed beneath them. Man-sized splinters dropped down its slick, slimy gullet.
As the creature gnawed, the boat slopped too high for Babalon’s grip and she slid towards the gnashing white pincers. Soon the whole boat had fallen. All that was left were her and Abel, struggling against the final bite. She pushed the teeth apart with all her might. But at long last, her strength began to fail her. Abel clung to a nearby tooth like a sloth. She met the circle eyes of his fanged mask with a furious expression.
Are you surprised? He asked, making that infuriating clicking sound. Did you think you were the biggest fish in this sea?
Overpowered by the strength of the worm’s bite, she let go and fell into its mouth, tumbling down for endless miles of wretched, wet flesh. Tumbling, tumbling, she cried out and dug her nails into the pulsing walls. Though the flesh gave to her pressure and her fingers began to slide, it was workable. She could climb. Reaching her hand up, a jet of murky green fluid burst from a geyser above, blinding her and melting the flesh beneath her nails. Again she tumbled, bounding this way and that against the worm’s soft and pulpy insides as it began to tunnel through the sea.
Only when she hit the bottom, splashing in a shallow pool of pale water, did the worm stop thrashing. Things were quiet. The walls breathed easy. From above, she heard the spurting of geysers. A light mist washed over her.
There was a way out, she thought, sinking her nails into the wall. If there was a way in, there was a way out. If she had to tear through the worm piece by piece, she would do it.
Turning from the wall, she examined her new prison. It would take her eyes a moment to adjust. A soft fluorescent glow emitted from the stomach juices, lighting the contours of her prison with green slivers. Foam occasionally bubbled over the surface of the milky water, followed by a near indiscernible gurgling. Hopefully Abel was alright.
In the darkness, she saw a small orange glow saunter towards her. Nearing her was a black bird. It held a lantern in one taloned hand. The other rested over the cutlass that hung from his belt. His wings were held high and tight on his black.
“So the coward fell another victim,” said the bird haughtily, its voice like gravel. “And who might you be?”
“Me?” asked Babalon, feeling the anger rise to her chest as the lantern light exposure the green mucous that coated her arms. “Who the fuck are you?”
Indignant, the bird swung his lantern around. Lit by the lantern light, Abel sat slumped against stomach lining.
“What compels such foul manners?” demanded the bird.
She is base.
“Ah.”
“And what compels such big talk from such a tiny twig of a thing?”
“Perhaps you do not know who I am,” said the bird. “Though I forgive you for it. Very well, you may refer to me as H’Zyn.”
In Babalon’s silence, Abel spoke for her.
She is Babalon. World unweaver. Dream waker.
H’Zyn snorted. “Another one? There is a whole desert of them around here somewhere. Forgive me if I have not committed your kind to memory. Scarlet women burn away in the blink of the eye.”
“Aren’t you a special little birdie? Talking shit while being digested by a sea worm.”
“You talk as though I am trapped. I am not. With one flick of my cutlass, I could slice the beast in twain.”
“Uh-huh,” said Babalon. “Do it then.”
“No.”
“Oh, and why?”
“I could never cut down an enemy without looking them in the eye. My imprisonment here stems from an act of subterfuge. I was caught unawares.”
It has no eyes.
“What?” H’Zyn squawked, swinging around the lantern to face Abel. The black garrote circles of Abel’s eyes made the white inside seem all the brighter.
The worm has no eyes.
“What!” H’Zyn repeated, his beak open like a castanet. “What do you mean he has no eyes?”
He sees with his hunger, H’Zyn. His vision is smell and stomach. You are most visible as you are now, swallowed yet undigested.
“You idiot bird.”
“Regardless,” said H’zyn, ruffling his feathers and readjusting his cutlass. “It would do no good to tear open the worm. All that will happen is that we flood this chamber with water and then we will drown.”
He pointed a curled talon at Babalon.
“All besides this cursed woman!”
Yes. This is true. She has no need of breath.
“What would happen if you drowned?” Babalon asked Abel.
I do not know. I have never drowned.
Hope filled Babalon’s heart. There was a chance after all. Given enough desperation, she could imagine stealing the bird’s sword and cutting through the worm from the inside. If Abel said he had never drowned, then he never would. There was another way.
The wall gave as she leant her head against it.
“The worm has stopped moving. It’s vertical, just as it was when we were swallowed. If I could climb back, perhaps I could kick out a tooth. Even if it’s still underwater, I doubt it would be too far from the surface.”
“If you could climb,” mocked H’Zyn. “If plans were made of ceiling fans.”
She gave him a curious look, inspecting his cutlass.
“My nails are not good enough. My fingers do not reach deep enough into the worm’s flesh to get a strong grip.”
H’zyn nodded, then brandished a jagged, copper dagger.
“Of course. You would need a nail such as this.”
Babalon towered over the bird. Peering down with cold eyes, she extended her palm.
“Give me the knife,” she said. “The sword as well.”
There was a pause between them. Bubbles foamed and the walls gave their customary groan. H’Zyn’s black eyes stared at Babalon like polished marble.
“No.”
In a rage, she bent over and began to strangle him. Then, picking him up by the neck, she shook him like a rag doll, feathers molting like black snow.
“Knave!” H’Zyn croaked with meager breath. “Villainess!”
Abel rose to his feet and shuffled towards them.
Lady Babalon, please put down H’Zyn.
Her eyes did not waver from the bird.
“Only if he stops wasting my time.”
Abel turned to H’Zyn.
H’Zyn, do you promise to stop wasting the time of Lady Babalon?
This time the gurgling did not come from the walls.
Lady Babalon, I cannot hear his answer.
At that, she held him high in the air, then let him drop like a stone. He splashed around squawking, massaging his neck.
“Not only do you wish to rob me, you stoop to murder?”
“It was never out of the question.”
We only wish to borrow your weapons, H’Zyn. After we are free, we shall return them. No one would be so foolish as to steal from you.
“Very well,” said H’Zyn curtly. He unbuckled the cutlass from his belt and handed it over to Babalon alongside his dagger.
Abel shambled over to Babalon. She lent down to allow him to climb on her back, where he embraced her around the neck, his legs locked around her hips. H’Zyn grabbed his lantern then flew up to Abel’s shoulder.
“Get lost, bird. I’m not carrying you. Fly yourself there.”
“Fly? You are a wicked woman. You steal my weapons. Now you wish for me to trail behind you like some bellhop?”
The light will be useful, added Abel.
“Just keep your mouth shut.”
“I do as I please,” said the weapons master proudly.
Ignoring him, Babalon tested the knife against the worm’s flesh, impaling it against the wall. With one arm, she raised herself, holding the group steady in the air for a few moments. The knife would hold. With her other hand she impaled the cutlass above her. It too would hold. So they began the climb up the worm’s digestive tract, leaving far below them the oasis of acid broth.
The climb was long and arduous. With every sporadically exploding geyser, Babalon maneuvered around it. Every inch of progress filled her with frustration. She wanted to be out. Worse was H’Zyn resting on Abel’s shoulder, offering words of encouragement and advice on climbing techniques. He just would not shut the fuck up. Trying to zone him out, she fantasized about skewering him on a pike and roasting him over an open flame. The texture of the crisped fowl hardly touched her lips before he heard him cry.
“There!”
And she was brought back to the tunnel of worm. H’Zyn shone his lantern up towards the wide set of teeth. Babalon screamed, then tore viciously towards them, stabbing the knife between the gums and digging out chunks of pink gelatinous meat. Unrelenting, she stabbed it to the hilt then began to pound on the pommel as though her fist was a hammer. The tooth would not budge. Reaching inside the gum, she tore the knife back out and began to scrape at all and anything she could. H’Zyn perked up. He heard something. The faintest sound of a whistle.
The worm began to buck wildly from the assault, tossing Babalon back and forth as she held onto the knife lodged in its gums. Then she heard a familiar hissing noise, and the smell of acid filled her nostril. Green liquid poured from the punctured gums. The knife began to slip.
Her eyes burned pure violet fire. Not again. She wouldn’t let it happen again.
Rage overtaking her, she torqued the knife blade, drilling as deep as she could into the gums, slashing wildly with the cutlass in her other hand. It wasn’t enough. The knife began to slip. They all began to fall. Babalon let go of the sword.
In a flash, H’Zyn lept from Abel’s shoulder and dove for the cutlass. Holding it once more in his grasp, he brought it high above his head and sliced deep into the worm’s body, splitting it clean open as he fell. Babalon could only gape in a miasma of revulsion and relief. Radiant light spilled out from the bifurcated flesh. The worm swayed in its death throes, then collapsed to one side, taking Babalon and Abel with it.
Along a sea of worm juices and unknown viscosities, Babalon crawled out from under a thick flap of worm. She squinted at the light. Her feet felt sand. The sound of waves cresting. They made a far more pleasant sound on land. In the distance loomed a stone tower wrung with ivy.
Then she noticed it. Right in front of her face, a large rock with letters painted in blood.
Did you get my worm?
She did not have to guess who left it. Cunt.
H’Zyn was sitting on a discarded stone slab, polishing his cutlass. She walked up to him as Abel wandered the beach, poking his fingers at the half-dissolved corpses that had spilled from the worm.
“You could have drowned,” said Babalon, approaching H’Zyn. “It was a brave thing for you to do.”
“It was not brave,” he announced. “There was no risk. In all your scraping, I heard the wind blow through his teeth. You would have too, if you knew how to listen to the wind.”
She smiled, “I’ll leave that to the birds.”
The corpses, feeling wind on their skin, began to cry out helplessly. Mumbling in begging tones, grappling with the sand and trying to pull themselves up past their chests. Abel knelt in front of one and raised his mask.
By the time the corpse had fallen, there was little left of him but a scratched skull and discardent flecks of meat.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” she called out to Abel.
Yes. Would you like some?
“I’m okay. I don’t eat.”
Yes. You enjoy only smoke. Perhaps I will burn some for you.
He dropped his head sadly.
Fire is not easy to find here. H’Zyn, would you like a corpse?
“No,” said the bird, sheathing his cutlass. “The taste does not suit me. Too close to swine.”
“Here,” said Babalon, holding out the jagged dagger. “I said I would return this.”
“Keep it,” said H’Zyn, turning his face away. “I feel as though I owe you an apology.”
“Really,” said Babalon. “How noble of you.”
“Ah, it’s not just a gift,” laughed the bird. “It’s a curse. There is a joke about this knife. Plunge it in any dead man’s chest, and you bring him back to life!”
Babalon’s eyes lit up. Her bargaining chip. So close to her goal, and she held in her hand her bargaining chip. It felt like fate. And that felt wrong. Why would fate work in her favor? She had already seen what nature thought of her. Were they not the same?
Her hand began to shake. Nervously, she played with the tip of the dagger. To her surprise, blood began to drip in thick, black drops.
“I thought nothing could cut me,” she whispered.
“Until now,” laughed H’Zyn.
Babalon’s gaze was entranced by the tower. Lush ivy wrapped and caressed the white stone tower like a well-worn ring. Pink clouds encircled it, wispy cotton soaked in blood.
Gregor is there.
“Yes,” said Babalon. “I know.”