The Hammer - Cor Series Book I

By the time Corvan woke up, the sun was directly over the house. His parents never let him sleep this late. Bees buzzed past his window, but the house below him was silent.

“Mom,” he called out, “what’s for lunch?” There was no answer. Had the lizard attacked while he slept? Leaping out of bed, he tugged on his pants, then moved cautiously down the stairs with the hammer held out before him.

The bed in his parents’ room was not made, and a few of the dresser drawers hung askew. Corvan ran to the front door. The truck was gone. Retreating to the kitchen, he searched for a note. Nothing.

Kate called into the house from the back porch, and Corvan crossed his arms over his bony chest. He hated being seen without a shirt.

She shook her head in disgust as she was entering the kitchen. “Are you just getting up? Must be nice to sleep in half the day. My mom had me up at six to take the pies out to the station wagon.” She placed her hands on her hips. “You should get a shirt on.” She nodded to the laundry basket by the back door.

“Have you seen my parents this morning?” Corvan asked, grabbing a T-shirt.

“I saw them drive past our place earlier. They were headed out of town.” She looked out the window as he pulled his shirt on. “So, what are you doing today?”

Corvan was relieved that his parents were okay. They must have needed something from the city, maybe a surprise for his birthday.

“I went out to the rock,” Kate said. “What a mess! Our fort’s ruined.”

“Yeah, the storm flattened the fort.”

“What’s with the pile of rocks from the firepit? How did that happen?” Kate asked, looking intently at his face.

“That was me.” Corvan looked out the back door to escape her steady gaze. “I was making a… monument. Like a pyramid.”

Kate scowled. “When are you going to start telling people the truth instead of making up silly stories? If you don’t want to say what you were doing just say, ‘Kate, I don’t want to talk about it.’”

Corvan shrugged. “It’s not that I don’t want to tell you. It’s just that I don’t think anyone will believe me if I tell the truth. This one sounds crazier than any story I ever made up. I’m not sure I even believe it yet.”

“Try me,” Kate replied as she sat on top of the kitchen table.

His grandfather’s note had said not to trust anyone, but this was Kate. Besides, she’d already seen the hammer.

Pulling the stone hammer from his back pocket, Corvan placed it on the table in front of her. “It’s all connected to this.”

Kate stared at it as if she were seeing the hammer for the first time. She touched the handle with one finger and then pulled her hand back. “You never did tell me where it came from.”

“I thought my grandfather made it for me, but now I’m not sure. Last night, the hammer was stolen.”

Kate hopped off the table. “Bill Fry took it?”

“No, it wasn’t Bill. It was …”

“Who?”

“Aw, forget it. I get enough mocking from the kids at school.” Snatching up the hammer, he swept around her, pushed out the screen door, and slouched on the porch steps.

Kate followed and stood behind him. “You’re talking about that lizard again, aren’t you?”

Corvan checked to see if she was teasing, but her face was serious.

“I’m sorry if I made fun of you about that story,” Kate said, sitting next to him. “It sounded a bit far-fetched, and besides, no one but you has seen it.” She shrugged. “But I guess not seeing something doesn’t mean you should doubt someone who says he has.”

Corvan stared at the rock. He had definitely seen it. His stomach churned at the memory.

“Why would a lizard need a hammer?” Kate asked.

Corvan dropped his gaze to the ground.

“Come on,” Kate nudged his shoulder. “I said I was sorry.”

“All right, I’ll tell you what happened. But if you start to laugh, I’m not telling you anymore.”

“If the story gets funny, it’s not my fault if I laugh,” she teased.

“It’s not that kind of story. Just do me a favor—let me get to the end before you ask questions.”

Kate nodded, and Corvan told her about the lizard taking the hammer and the fight to get it back.

Kate listened intently, but her frown deepened as the story progressed. When he got to the part where the lizard spoke, she interrupted him.

“Wait a minute. I could imagine a wild animal trying to bury your hammer, thinking it was a bone or something, but everyone knows animals don’t talk. That’s just crazy.”

Corvan jumped to his feet. “You’re right. I am crazy. Crazy for thinking I could share this story with someone like you.” He stomped off.

“What do you mean, like me?” Kate hollered after him. “You think you’re better than me?”

Corvan rounded the corner of the house and broke into a run. He should have known she wouldn’t believe him either. Bounding up the front stairs, he shut the door behind him and peeked out the living-room window. Kate hadn’t followed. Hopefully she’d go home, and he’d have a chance to look through his grandfather’s chest in peace.

He waited a bit longer then went up in his room and unlocked the secret panel. Draping the soft cloth over the footboard of his bed, he checked out the various items, but his attention kept returning to the green rope. Plucking it from its shallow depression, he examined it carefully. One end was squashed flat and wrapped securely around the coils. Small flaps were keeping the rope fastened in tight loops. Corvan tugged at the flaps, but they wouldn’t budge. He pulled as hard as he could on the free end, but the rope only stretched slightly.

A low whistle escaped his lips. How could something this light be so strong? It wasn’t even woven like a braided rope; it was all one thin strand except that the free end was a thicker, like a short handle. On the end of the handle was a round button—like an eyeball with a black knobby pupil staring out from the center. Corvan pressed on the dark bump: the flat flaps holding the coils opened, and the loops fell to the ground.

Letting the soft rope play through his hands, he picked up the flat end that had been wrapped around the coils. It was a wider disk shaped like the head of a cobra. He held it flat in the palm of his left hand and then pressed his thumb against the dark eye on the end of the handle with his other hand.

An intense prickling sensation snapped his left hand tightly closed around the flat disk. In a panic, Corvan tried to open his fist, but it was as if the green disk was suddenly coated in thick glue. He tried harder, and the prickling increased. His fingers were shifting about of their own accord. Dropping the eyeball handle to pry his hand free, it bounced off the open chest and his left hand sprang open. The flat disk spilled to the floor.

Red dots of blood blossomed across the surface of his palm where tiny needles had punctured his skin. Wiping his hand on his pants, Corvan picked up the disk by its tail, like a dead mouse, and set it on his bed. Retrieving the handle end, he ran a thumb over the black knob. The flat disk came alive and began twitching and burrowing into his blanket. He leaned closer and watched a thousand miniscule fingers thrusting out from the disk, grasping, and bunching up the cloth. With trembling hands, he flicked the black button again, and they vanished. The disk lay still once more.

Corvan turned the disk over and pressed the button. The tiny tentacles leapt out, waving and seeking something to grasp. The rope itself grew thicker and recoiled on itself like an angry snake, slithering toward his forearm. Letting out a yelp, Corvan dropped it to the floor, where it spread out wide on the wooden planks.

He pulled, but the flat disk wouldn’t budge. He tried harder, and the floorboards flexed and creaked. Working the small button, Corvan released the disk from the floor and picked it up. Activating the fingers, he instead tossed the flat disk at the wall. It stuck fast, and tiny flecks of paint fell as the tentacles found the tiniest cracks.

Corvan examined the black knob and then tried pushing it to one side. In front of him, the disk crawled in the same direction like a round centipede across the wall. He released the sideways pressure, and it froze in its place. While sitting on his bed, Corvan discovered he could control not only the direction but also the speed of the disk end of the rope. The farther over he bent the knob, the faster it moved.

A grin spread across his face as he directed the flat head up to where the ceiling met the wall. It made the transition smoothly and slipped across his ceiling. The dislodged plaster rained onto the bed around him. He laughed as he sent it in circles around his light bulb. Letting his thumb off the controls, it fell onto his legs and sent him scrambling back with a startled yell.

Leaning back against his headboard he laughed again as the memory of the rope and his grandfather came clear. He had been allowed to play with this rope when he was very young, and he remembered laughing as his grandfather ran it around him on the bed.

He picked up the disk. How would it work on something smooth? He went to the window, held it up to the glass, and activated the button. The disk spread out even flatter and was like a small lily pad floating on the water. He worked the controls, and it moved slowly across the smooth surface.

A desperate scream from outside tore his gaze past the windowpane.

Out on the rock ,someone was madly swinging a long stick. The person shouted, the stick rose high, and then they vanished behind the central boulder.

Kate was being attacked by the lizard!