The World of Myth - Samuel Hayne - Faro’s Ring Part Three

‘I’ve got to get out of here,’ Nick thought. Not so afraid this time, he reached into the chest and eventually pulled out five more jars. All were smooth and white with some animal image carved into the golden lid; a monkey face, a bird head, a grim, frowning human face and a sinister squid headed jar. ‘I could walk right out of here with the duffle bags and this Kentucky-fried corpse wouldn’t catch me.’

“Yes, that is the one!” the mummy almost screamed with excitement at the revelation of the squid jar. “Bring it to me, now.” All patience had completely left the monster’s croaky voice and Nick detected an almost anxious quality. The monster clumsily made its way to a seat at the head of the dining table behind his coffin, and sat.

Nick brought all six jars to the table, taking care not to drop or spill the contents. It was the first time he had stood near enough to the creature to see details of its appearance. Its face was charred beyond recognition. There was no nose and simply black, hollow sockets where its eyes had once rested. Only four sharp, yellowed teeth remained in its head; two canines on top and two central incisors on bottom. What little skin continued to cling to its neck was drawn tightly from bone to bone. There were charred bits of crispy flesh around the mouth; remnants of lips. A shriveled muscle, formerly the monster’s tongue, lay dead and unmoving as it spoke. There was a smell about the creature; not one of death and rot as was most common in this chamber, but an almost pleasant mixture of sweet spices exuded from its withered flesh.

‘It’s weak. It needs my help. I could probably break it into splinters with one strategically placed kick,’ Nick surmised.

“For your help, you will be substantially rewarded, Nick,” the mummy spoke, as if hearing his thoughts.

This made Nick even more nervous. The creature did not look at him as it talked, but rather remained fixed and intent on mixing the liquids and powders from the white jars into a gold bowl that hadn’t been on the table earlier. Soft whispers slipped from the creature’s withered lips; so soft and garbled were the words that even if they had been in English Nick would have had no idea what was being said.

Nick took a few steps back from the table, watching with a curiosity and energy that could only be explained as agitated excitement. The palms of his hands sweated and his watery eyes itched. So many thoughts lumbered though his head. This night had produced a cornucopia of questions and a dearth of answers. The creature feebly grabbed a crystal goblet at his place setting.

“Nick,” the monster whispered. “Again, I apologize, but I need your help. I am weak.” The mummy gestured for Nick to take the bowl and tip the contents into the goblet.

As he did so, bright yellowish-green liquid sloppily poured into the glass, some of it splashing on Nick’s hands. A terrified expression spread across his face and he started to back away, when the creature gripped him by the wrist.

“The liquid will bring you no harm by getting on your skin,” the creature choked. Nick stared into the empty sockets. “Now help me with this,” he commanded. Nick lifted the glass to the dried lips of the creature’s ancient mouth.

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