Read Online The Pandora Chronicles - Book 1 (A Scifi Adventure Thriller) by Ryan Attard - Free Book Online
Book: The Pandora Chronicles - Book 1 (A Scifi Adventure Thriller) by Ryan Attard
Read Free Book Online
Authors: Ryan Attard
Ads: Link
now.
“Thank you,” he replied. “I’ve heard many a tale about the Spaniards and their intention to conquer these lands. They will be coming soon. You do not have the tools or men to push back an armada of that magnitude.”
He was not sure what they would do with that information. He couldn’t imagine they would uproot their lives and leave the island. Perhaps they would fight back and hold their ground. Or perhaps they would be wiped out.
Either way, it was solely their choice.
Hours of walking and hacking through vines and tall vegetation later and finally, the mouth of the cave loomed in view. It was not as impressive as Finnegan made it out to be. Instead, they found themselves staring at a large, gaping hole close to the edge of a cliff, masked by a wall of vegetation—albeit the placement indicated deliberate concealment.
They had to walk in a straight file as the footpath was barely wide enough to accommodate two men side by side. If they fell off the path, all that awaited was a long fall onto the mass of serrated rocks on the beach below.
They entered the cave, and Finnegan opted to go first, leading the vanguard with a lantern. The darkness had a visceral substance to it, as if alive, and eating away at all traces of light. The walls of the cave were towering and wide, all carved with paintings and hand imprints.
“These pictures tell a tale,” Rodriguez said, running his hands down an illustration.
Finnegan peered closer and noticed the light reflecting off the paint. It had a metallic look to it, like silver. There were millions of figures drawn on the walls, ranging from the ground all the way up to the ceiling of the cave. Some pictures depicted the stars and sky. Others were more familiar, pictures of humans.
And all had some monstrous being and creature looming in the background, watching people as they went about in blissful ignorance.
Then, as if something had triggered them, the pictures began moving. Light from the crew’s torches glimmered off of the paint as it slithered about. The shapes morphed, creating a living mural of history. Finnegan heard his men gasp and cry. Rodriguez made the Sign of the Cross while Tier stood mesmerized.
“It’s a living depiction of God and past civilizations,” she whispered reverently.
“Oy, Captain,” the first mate called. “Over here.”
He was pointing at a small crack where a vein of gold snaked all the way up to the ceiling. A few crew members managed to tear their eyes off the living paintings and cheered softly. But Finnegan’s eyes caught something else and motioned for the crew to be silent.
The slithering noise grew louder.
Liquid gold, silver, and iron snaked along the walls, into the deeper, darker part of the cave. It was as if the cave was alive, and the veins of ore transporting minerals instead of blood. Oil, phosphorus, salt, even liquid rock; all were sucked into and along the walls deeper into the darkness, into the heart of the cave.
The crew’s panic resurfaced. They could make sense of moving paintings, perhaps even rationalize it, but this was too much. Too many strange phenomena were happening at once. Never in their years of travel had they seen something like this.
This must be the effect of the cavern of which the tribe spoke of , Finnegan thought, remembering the warning he received before leaving the tribe’s outpost.
Indeed, the crew’s behavior was rapidly changing. Perhaps it was the foul smell in the air, or the exposed minerals, or maybe a drug of sorts.
Or perhaps it was something else, something of a more fantastic nature.
“From here onwards, we venture into the realm of the gods,” Finnegan said. “Any who wish to leave may do so without consequence. Do not, however, return to my ship.”
He did not wait for their response. Instead he just headed straight into the darkness.
Tier and Father Rodriguez were soon by his side, followed by the first mate, quartermaster,
“Thank you,” he replied. “I’ve heard many a tale about the Spaniards and their intention to conquer these lands. They will be coming soon. You do not have the tools or men to push back an armada of that magnitude.”
He was not sure what they would do with that information. He couldn’t imagine they would uproot their lives and leave the island. Perhaps they would fight back and hold their ground. Or perhaps they would be wiped out.
Either way, it was solely their choice.
Hours of walking and hacking through vines and tall vegetation later and finally, the mouth of the cave loomed in view. It was not as impressive as Finnegan made it out to be. Instead, they found themselves staring at a large, gaping hole close to the edge of a cliff, masked by a wall of vegetation—albeit the placement indicated deliberate concealment.
They had to walk in a straight file as the footpath was barely wide enough to accommodate two men side by side. If they fell off the path, all that awaited was a long fall onto the mass of serrated rocks on the beach below.
They entered the cave, and Finnegan opted to go first, leading the vanguard with a lantern. The darkness had a visceral substance to it, as if alive, and eating away at all traces of light. The walls of the cave were towering and wide, all carved with paintings and hand imprints.
“These pictures tell a tale,” Rodriguez said, running his hands down an illustration.
Finnegan peered closer and noticed the light reflecting off the paint. It had a metallic look to it, like silver. There were millions of figures drawn on the walls, ranging from the ground all the way up to the ceiling of the cave. Some pictures depicted the stars and sky. Others were more familiar, pictures of humans.
And all had some monstrous being and creature looming in the background, watching people as they went about in blissful ignorance.
Then, as if something had triggered them, the pictures began moving. Light from the crew’s torches glimmered off of the paint as it slithered about. The shapes morphed, creating a living mural of history. Finnegan heard his men gasp and cry. Rodriguez made the Sign of the Cross while Tier stood mesmerized.
“It’s a living depiction of God and past civilizations,” she whispered reverently.
“Oy, Captain,” the first mate called. “Over here.”
He was pointing at a small crack where a vein of gold snaked all the way up to the ceiling. A few crew members managed to tear their eyes off the living paintings and cheered softly. But Finnegan’s eyes caught something else and motioned for the crew to be silent.
The slithering noise grew louder.
Liquid gold, silver, and iron snaked along the walls, into the deeper, darker part of the cave. It was as if the cave was alive, and the veins of ore transporting minerals instead of blood. Oil, phosphorus, salt, even liquid rock; all were sucked into and along the walls deeper into the darkness, into the heart of the cave.
The crew’s panic resurfaced. They could make sense of moving paintings, perhaps even rationalize it, but this was too much. Too many strange phenomena were happening at once. Never in their years of travel had they seen something like this.
This must be the effect of the cavern of which the tribe spoke of , Finnegan thought, remembering the warning he received before leaving the tribe’s outpost.
Indeed, the crew’s behavior was rapidly changing. Perhaps it was the foul smell in the air, or the exposed minerals, or maybe a drug of sorts.
Or perhaps it was something else, something of a more fantastic nature.
“From here onwards, we venture into the realm of the gods,” Finnegan said. “Any who wish to leave may do so without consequence. Do not, however, return to my ship.”
He did not wait for their response. Instead he just headed straight into the darkness.
Tier and Father Rodriguez were soon by his side, followed by the first mate, quartermaster,
Similar Books
