The Adventure of the Magic Chia Plant

Chapter 13: The Guardian

The very ground beneath their feet seemed to shake.  A grating, hissing sound issued from deep within the well, but it was getting louder as if something was rising from the bottom.  The faerie flitted about in unholy glee.  

Bench wanted to run, but when he turned around, he saw that the narrow path he'd taken to get here was gone as if it had never existed.  The small clearing around the well was now edged on all sides by a dense thicket of trees that seemed to loom nearer by the moment.  There was a feeling of malicious anticipation in the air for whatever was going to happen next.  

Bench realized there was no way he'd be able to leave by himself. His companion had arranged it so that he wouldn't be able to leave without her help.  He silently berated himself for trusting her.  Brent would never have done such a thing which was probably why she'd approached Bench in the first place.   He was much too trusting.  

Bench gripped his pocketknife in one hand and the flashlight in the other, shining it at the well. 

"What is it?" he shouted over the din.

"The Guardian," the faerie cackled.  "The Guardian of the forest approaches!"

"What kind of creature is it?" Benedict persisted.

"You'll see!"

The next moment, he did see.  The Guardian was a monstrous, green, winged serpent, with oily scales like that of a fish, glowing red eyes, and small fluttering wings on either side of its head that was much bigger than Bench's.  It emerged slowly from the mouth of the well, dripping stagnant water, its snout turning sinuously from side to side.  Its beady black eyes fixed on Bench, who was frozen in terror just a few feet away.  The creature opened its mouth, revealing foot-long fangs and a forked tongue that flicked out every few seconds, testing the still air.  

As more of its body rose from the abyss, it revealed that a few feet of it was coiled around a rusted but sturdy iron bucket that was half-filled with water.  Bench focused on it, wondering how on earth he was supposed to get it.  

"Offer it something," the faerie urged.  "Remember that it has to be something precious to you. Otherwise, it will not let you or the bucket go."

Bench considered his options again.  All he had apart from his clothes were the pocketknife, Brent's binoculars, and his flashlight.  How was he supposed to choose between the three of them? He needed two of them, and the third wasn't his to give away.  

Suddenly, he had a crazy thought.  What had the faerie said?  The forest would only allow something to pass if it was part of itself.  And the Guardian wanted something precious to him.  If his hunch was correct, it would solve both of his problems.  

Bench turned off his flashlight and stashed it in his pocket.  If his plan didn't work, he might have to give the snake Brent's binoculars, but he didn't like that idea at all.  He had a feeling they might still need it.  

"Here goes nothing," he muttered to himself.  And before he could change his mind, he held up his left hand and made a shallow slash on the palm with the penknife with it.  

He grimaced at the flash of pain and the sight of bright red blood pooling in his hand.  Realizing his intention, the faerie flew furiously towards him, screeching shrilly.  

She was too late.  Bench stepped forward and threw the handful of blood--straight into the Guardian's wide-open mouth.  

There was an endless moment when the gigantic snake closed its mouth in confusion, its throat working as it swallowed.  The faerie paused beside it, breathlessly waiting for its reaction to Bench's brazen and unexpected move.  Bench held up the penknife in front of his face in a defensive stance, knowing perfectly well that it wouldn't be able to protect him if the creature decided to take offense and attack.  

It didn't.  The Guardian's glowing eyes faded to a dull amber, and its stance shifted from attack to observation.  It watched docilely as Bench edged gingerly forward and retrieved the bucket from its coils.  As far as it was concerned, Bench was a part of it now.

With the bucket's handle safely over one arm, Bench retreated to one side and tended to his wound.  He cut off a long strip of cloth from the hem of his shirt and wound it several times around his left hand to stem the flow of blood.  Only then did he look up at the faerie to ask it to lead him home.  

He started back in apprehension.  The faerie was hovering beside the Guardian, her teeth bared in a furious grimace.  Darkness was boiling off of her and starting to encroach in all directions.  Too late, Bench realized that although she'd intended for him to get the bucket eventually, it wasn't this way.  She'd intended him to lose at least one or ideally all of his tools---tools that they might need to escape the planet.  

She wasn't going to lead him out of the forest.  She wasn't planning to let him leave at all.  

Bench knew that he had only seconds to act. He prayed that he'd interpreted the words of the faerie correctly. As he'd surmised earlier, she couldn't lie to him entirely--all she could do was try to mislead him. But in doing so, she'd also dropped hints that Bench could use in his favor.

Taking out his flashlight, Bench hurriedly unwrapped his wounded hand and flicked droplets of blood in the direction of the forest where he thought he'd come from. As he predicted, the trees immediately drew away, creating a path for him that was much wider and easier to traverse than the one he'd taken to get there. Somehow, by feeding his blood to the Guardian, he'd fooled it into thinking that he was part of the forest.

He glanced behind him and immediately wished that he hadn't. The gigantic snake was slowly retreating into the well, its now amber eyes half-closed as if it had completely lost interest in him and was just intent on resuming its sleep. In contrast, the faerie was shimmering darkly against the night sky, sharp little teeth bared in fury. Any second now, she was going to chase after him.

Without wasting a second more, Bench plunged forward into the path, praying with all his might that he was going in the right direction. He'd succeeded in getting the bucket that they needed--now all he had to do was get back to his siblings by the beach.

He only prayed that they hadn't gotten it in their heads to come after him.