The adventure began in one of the innumerable taverns along the British coasts. At a table in said tavern sat Conall McCallum, a Hibernian fisherman and known gambler. Across from him sat another sailor, a Briton, with a long scar across his stubbled face. On the table between them lay a thin, checkered board, upon which they played an ancient game, akin to modern checkers. Conall, having had much to drink, boasted that he could “wipe the board with this horse-faced Briton”. This of course, prompted a rebutting from said horse-face.
Bets were placed. The winner would be paid forty pieces of silver by the loser. Conall made this agreement over his brother Domhnall’s objections. Domhnall’s contention being that they would be unable to pay the taxes should he lose. Conall, however, was brimming with the confidence born of an abundance of strong beer.
Drops of sweat flowed from the brow of the horse-face as he stared at the table before him; there was no move he could make that Conall could not counter. The Hibernian sea-dog had beat him at his own game! The horse-face growled curse after curse as those gathered round cheered Conall’s victory.
“Alright then, horse-face, pay up!” demanded the fisherman.
The horse-face muttered something incomprehensible.
“What’s that?” asked Conall.
“I can’t pay you,” replied the horse-face.
“Cannot pay, can he?” roared Conall. “Well, ain’t that a shame, boys?”
“Not in silver – I have something possibly more valuable.”
“I’m listening,” said Conall.
“Are either of you two gentlemen keen on an adventure?”
“If it pays well,” replied the fisherman.
“There’s an island far out in the great ocean. On that island is a treasure; a massive jewel as big as your head! They call it the Serpent's Eye. This map will show you the way.”
The horse-faced sailor drew a piece of parchment from his coat and placed it on the table. Conall stroked his thick, red mustache. “Hmm. That sounds tempting. Is this real or are you trying to trick me?”
“It’s real! I’ve seen the island with my own eyes.”
“It’s true!” confirmed another sailor nearby.
Conall took the parchment. “I suppose it’s worth looking into.”
“Conall!” hissed Domhnall.
“What?” queried Conall.
“You can’t just stake our boat on some traveler's tale!” implored Domhnall
“Which one of us is the elder brother? Me or you?” asked Conall, frustrated at his brother’s reticence.
“You, but -”
“Then it’s my decision. That’s what Father said.”
“You have a deal,” said Conall to the horse-face. “But if I should go to that island and there be no treasure, it’ll be your hide that’s at risk.”
The horse-face swallowed hard. “Alright.”
The light of the oil lamp illuminated the peculiar markings as Conall studied the map, his blue eyes taking note of every detail. Despite his years on the sea, Conall had no knowledge of some of the continents depicted on this piece of parchment. True, he had heard tales of fantastic lands to the west, but he was uncertain whether to believe them.
“I can’t believe you actually took that thing,” said Domhnall.
Conall shrugged. “What was I supposed to do? He couldn’t pay me in silver.”
“Ye really think that map is worth anything?”
“It might lead us to treasure.”
“Or death.”
“We’re fishermen, Domhnall; we look death in the face daily.”
Domhnall rolled his eyes. “Well, are ye going to stare at that piece of sheepskin all night, or are ye going to get some rest? It’s getting late.”
Heeding his brother, Conall folded the parchment up and placed it in his bag. He then blew out the oil lamp and went to bed.
Domhnall looked out over the broad blue ocean as his brother sang a merry song at the oars. He wondered how it was that Conall had convinced him to come on this fool’s errand in the first place. Perhaps it was the promise of fame, or adventure or romance, or perhaps it was riches. In the past, Conall frequently bullied him to into complying with his will, but Domhnall, after many adventures at sea, was no longer intimidated by his brother. At any rate, here he was out on the open sea, going who knows where to find a treasure which may or may not exist.
“Will ya cheer up, Domhnall! You look like you just lost your dog!”
“I’m just watching the horizon, Conall. We should be near the island, now.”
“Why don’t you take a turn at the oars while I keep watch?”
“Alright,” said Domhnall as he took his place at the oars. As he was just sitting down to row, he saw an odd shape on the horizon.
“Land!” exclaimed Domhnall, pointing to a distant mass.
“Land!” echoed Conall with jubilation. He laughed as they rowed toward the shape. As they drew nearer to it, there was, in Domhnall’s mind, something odd about this place. It appeared to be a baren land of hard rock. Nothing grew upon it, other than some mosses. It seemed almost as though it was moving; heaving up and down, slowly, so that one might almost miss it.
Just as they were about to drop anchor, a huge, round stone split open; but it was no rock. A great eye stared down at them. Screaming like madmen, the Hibernians immediately got to the oars and began rowing away from the massive sea-beast as quickly as they could. Great waves crashed about its long, writhing limbs, threatened to capsize the little Hibernian fishing boat.
“Lean to port, Conall!” cried Domhnall.
Together, they leaned against the port side of the boat, riding the huge wave as it carried them out to sea. Domhnall cried out to the Almighty for mercy. Finally, the wave came to an end. The McCallum brothers looked out over a calm sea, hearts pounding like drums.
“Well, that was exciting!” said Conall with a broad grin.
Domhnall struck his brother with the back of his hand. “You cabbage-head! We nearly died!”
“Oh, come off it, Domhnall! You’re the one who pointed at it and said ‘land’.
“This whole quest was a mistake, you brainless, irresponsible, ninny!”
“You are such a coward!”
Domhnall’s already ruddy face turned beet-red. “You take that back right now, Conall!”
“You’re always afraid of every bloody thing on earth!”
“One of us has to be cautious with you rushing in without thinking all the time! I’ve saved your skin more times than you’ll ever know about because you got so drunk there’s no way you’d remember! And you call me a coward. That’s gratitude for you!”
The brothers were silent for a span, breathing hard. A vein on Domhnall’s forehead throbbed with rage.
“Domhnall, I --” started Conall.
“Save your apologies!” barked Domhnall. “Just take us home.”
Taking a deep breath, Conall turned the ship back toward the northeast. Suddenly he paused; off in the distance he saw a large green shape on the horizon.
“Domhnall, look!” said the fisherman.
“Let me guess; more land?”
“Yes!”
Domhnall rolled his eyes. “Probably another sea monster.”
“I don’t think it is, Domhnall.”
“Just take me back to Hibernia!”
“Can’t we but take a quick look? We’re running low on fresh water anyhow.”
“Fine,” Domhnall sighed. “But if you’re going to get us both killed, at least make it a quick death.”
Conall rowed toward the land. As they drew nearer, they were able to make out more details of the island. It was covered in tall trees and plants of all descriptions. In the midst of it were what looked to be tall, flat-topped mountains. Mooring their boat in an inlet, they stepped out onto the sandy shores. Domhnall, filled with gratitude, knelt down and kissed the white sands as his brother surveyed the alien land. The forest seemed to conceal the crumbling remains of an ancient city.
“Domhnall, I think this might be the place,” said Conall. “I think this is the island on the map.”
Domhnall sighed. “Whatever, Conall, just find us some fresh water.”
Through the incredibly ancient remains of the once great city the two trudged. The heat and humidity were only relieved by the cool sea breezes that occasionally blew. The buzzing of insects was their constant companion. Through the forest came the strange, wild calls of all the birds and beasts that dwelled in that forbidding place; some seemed familiar, but others were utterly alien. Throughout those strange forests, Domhnall felt as though they were being watched. Something on that island did not take kindly to their presence.
The two followed the stream through the forests, looking for its source. They came in time to a large pool at the base of a high waterfall. On the bank were several deer refreshing themselves at the waters. Suddenly, out of the wood came a huge, tawny shape, pouncing on one of the deer. The others fled as the huge cat dragged its prey into the green.
Domhnall and Conall stood stock still. They had only heard tales of such beasts, but now they had seen one. Were there others? What other horrors would the ancient forest yield? Cautiously, Conall knelt down on the banks of the pool, while Domhnall stood guard over him, armed with a spear. After gathering the water, the brothers made a hasty exit from that haunted wood, back down to the beach where the boat lay.
Something, however, was not right. All about the boat were the emptied sacks and jars of supplies they’d brought for the mission. Human – or at least, human-like – footprints lay in the sand all about the boat.
“Someone’s been rifling through our supplies!” exclaimed Conall.
“Oh, do you think so then, Conall?” said Domhnall sarcastically. “Food is the least of our worries. Do you realize that means this island is not uninhabited?”
“Well, obviously!” retorted Conall. “At any rate, we should get us some grub. Go out in the sea and catch us some fish; I’ll go inland and try to catch us one of those deer.
“Do you think it’s wise for us to split up?”
“No, it isn’t wise, but it’s better than starving!”
“True,” sighed Domhnall.
“I’ve got me short sword in case things get out of hand.”
Domhnall sighed, believing his brother to be fully mad, and took his fishing line out of the boat. Wading out to a rocky outcrop, he threw his line into the sea, and laid wait for whatever fish he might catch. There he rested, listening to the waves lap against the shore as the tide came in. After a time, a strange noise came to his ears; a rhythmic sound as of the beating of drums. Domhnall turned to face the island. Along the tree line came a strange procession. At the front were men in dark robes, their faces painted with ghastly white markings. Domhnall suspected they were priests. Behind them were tall, muscular men with long, jet black hair that fell about their broad-shoulders. Their copper skin was painted with strange designs. Most wore a simple loincloth with gold, silver and copper jewelry adorning their arms and faces. At the front of their company stood a man with an elaborate feathered headdress; their king, perhaps. Behind them men walked women in simple garments which draped down from their shoulders. The women led in the chanting, keeping time with drums as they marched onward.
In the king’s hand was a rope, the other end of which was tied about the neck of a young maid. She was not like the others. Her skin was a shade lighter than theirs, her hair, rather than being black and straight, was dark brown and had a distinct wave to it. Her eyes, unlike theirs, were blue-gray. Like them, however, her skin was ornamented with various painted designs. From her shoulders hung a piece of cloth which draped down to about the middle of her torso. A second piece of cloth from her hips down to her knees. She was rather attractive.
The procession entered the cover of the forest several hundred yards from where Domhnall stood. Without delay, the Hibernian made his way back to the shore, following the trail of the procession down an ancient roadway through ruins thickly overgrown with plant life. Deeper and deeper they went into the dead city, passing through a massive doorway into some great structure; it might’ve been a palace for a king, or a temple for whatever strange deities they worshipped here. Domhnall had an uneasy feeling about the place, yet he entered nonetheless.
Great spiders had built their silken webs over ancient frescoes and statues of indescribable figures of great antiquity. Finally, they came to the very center of the structure. Above them the ceiling opened up to the sky above. It seemed intentional. Beneath that was a great pillar, on top of which was a massive, smooth black stone; the serpent’s eye.
All this time, Domhnall had concealed himself behind one of the large statues which stood sentinel about the ancient temple, watching all the occurred with morbid fascination. There was a peculiar feeling in the pit of his stomach; he could sense that something wicked was about to happen.
The king bound the struggling maiden to the pillar as the priests chanted in their strange tongue. Domhnall understood not a word, but he knew it was evil. Following a great cry from the acolytes and priests, the ritual concluded. Then the cultists processed out of the temple, leaving the girl tied to the pillar. The young woman began to weep bitter tears. Domhnall cautiously emerged from his hiding place and approached the weeping maid, knife in hand to cut her loose.
“Don’t worry, love,” said Domhnall in a gentle voice. The maid looked up at him startled at first. “I’ll have you out in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”
After cutting the maiden loose, Domhnall placed his knife back in his belt.
“There,” he said. “You’re free.”
“Who are you?” asked the maiden. Domhnall was shocked; he did not expect the maiden to know Hibernian.
“I’m called Domhnall McCallum,” replied the fisherman. “How do you know Hibernian?”
“You’re not the first Hibernians to come here,” she replied. “My father was a Hibernian sailor who became shipwrecked here. He took a wife from the Chungawaka and they had me. He taught me how to speak his language.”
“Were those people the Chungawaka?” asked Domhnall.
“No; the Chungawaka live on the other side of the island; those were the Pugwak; enemies of the Chungawaka. They kidnapped me in a raid.”
“Well, that’s unfortunate,” remarked Domhnall.
“I’m Saoirse, by the way,” said the maid.
“Good to meet you,” said Domhnall with a smile. “Let’s be getting out of here, then.”
Taking Domhnall’s hand, the maid accompanied the fisherman out of the cursed temple.
“What brings you here, anyhow?” asked Saoirse. “Lost?”
“Nay. We're here in search of the Serpent’s Eye. That wasn’t it, was it?”
“As a matter of fact, it was, but trust me, you don’t want it.”
“Why not?”
“They say it fell from the sky long ago when this island was a thriving paradise. My ancestors thought it was a gift from the gods, but far from it; it’s a curse. The Serpent started speaking to us through the stone, demanding blood sacrifices and threatening destruction if we didn’t appease it. After many generations, the island divided into two tribes; one which worshipped the Serpent and one which didn’t.”
“On my island, something not dissimilar happened recently,” said Domhnall.
In time, the two returned to the rudimentary camp the McCallum brothers had made by the shore.
“What are you going to do with me?” asked Saoirse.
“Not certain yet,” said Domhnall. “Probably wait until me brother comes back from hunting game.”
“He shouldn’t be hunting alone; the forest is very dangerous.”
“We figured that out, but so is starvation.”
Saoirse shrugged. “True enough.”
“He’s been gone a while,” said Domhnall. “Wonder if I should go looking for him.”
“Probably best not to, lest you get lost yourself.”
“Fair point.”
“Best to stay put and hope he returns.”
Night fell on that strange island, far from Hibernia. Domhnall’s anxiety for his brother grew ever greater as the stars looked down from the darkening sky above. Deep in the jungle, the bestial cries of strange animals could be heard; they chilled Domhnall’s blood, though he sat near to the fire he had made on the shore.
Thunder rumbled in the skies overhead. Strange, thought Domhnall, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky earlier. The sky darkened over the island; a cloud as black as any the Hibernian had ever seen gathered over the land, growing thicker and thicker. Never in his life had Domhnall seen anything like it. The cloud sank lower and lower over the island, so that it seemed it might touch the ground.
“Ther serpent,” whispered Saoirse with a shudder. “He’ll be displeased to find his sacrifice missing.”
Thunder rumbled louder; the serpent was apparently displeased indeed. The earth itself seemed to be shaken by his anger. Domhnall could not take his eyes off the sight before him, though it filled him with a nameless terror. So transfixed was he that he took no notice of the tall figure emerging from the darkness and approaching the fire,
“Unusual weather we’re having, don’t you think?”
Domhnall jerked about to face the voice which spoke, but it was only Conall, standing by the fire holding the deer he had had killed.
“Conall,” said Domhnall. “You gave me a bit of a start.”
“I’ve brought some food,” said the fisherman. “Who’s the lass?”
“I’m Saoirse,” replied the maid. “I assume you’re Conall. Your brother rescued me.”
“You rescued her?” asked Conall, perplexed. “From what?”
“That,” said Domhnall, pointing at the cloud.
Conall looked the maid up and down. “Not a bad job, Domhnall. You wouldn’t happen to know where they Serpent’s Eye is, would you love?”
“I do, but whether you want it is a different question.”
“Eh?”
“It’s cursed,” interjected Domhnall.
“What?”
“The jewel summons the devil in the sky over there,” said Saoirse. “Anyone who possesses it is cursed.”
Conall blinked. “That filthy, horse-faced scullion lied to us!”
“I tried to warn you, but you wanted riches and glory!” chided Domhnall
“Well, if you hadn’t arrived, I would be serpent food right now,” said Saoirse.
“True enough,” said Domhnall.
“Well, what are we to do with her?” asked Conall.
“Well, first we’re going to make her a decent meal,” said Domhnall. “Then we’ll take her back to her village on the other side of the Island.”
“You don’t have to do that,” said Saoirse. “You’ve done enough.”
“It’s the decent thing to do,” said Domhnall.
Saoirse smiled. Domhnall’s face flushed slightly at her gaze, her blue eyes flashing in the firelight.
After their hearty meal of venison, the brothers took the sheep skins they slept on out of the boat and made ready to bed down for the night.
“You can have mine,” said Domhnall to Saoirse.
“That’s hardly necessary, Domhnall,” she replied. “The sand is soft enough.”
“I won’t be using it half the night anyway; I have the first watch.”
“You’re sweet,” Saoirse as she gently kissed him on the cheek. Domhnall’s heart beat a bit faster at her touch. She then curled up on the sheepskin and drifted off to sleep, while Domhnall kept his watch by the light of the stars.