The Treasure in the Monkey's Fist

(continued)

By Rik Hunik

The cave expanded into a large chamber. Enough daylight entered to dazzle Zayn with reflections from all the gold and silver and jewels. He saw intricately carved ivory, exquisite statues of jade and agate, coffers of pearls.

Dazed and delirious, Zayn followed the gold trail across the chamber, almost to a huge stack of gold bars. A skeleton, bony fingers still clutching a gold bar, was a grim testament that someone had died while trying to finish paving this trail of gold.

"Too bizarre," Zayn muttered, abruptly sober. He stepped around the bones and picked up a gold bar and hefted it. Very heavy. He could carry only a couple of these, along with an assortment of coins and jewels. The carvings and the statues he left for people who could appreciate such things more than real riches. Why take them to sell for gold when he could just take gold?

The light was fading now as the sun sank below the horizon. He wanted to be out of the cave before dark. He placed two of the bars in the bottom of his sack, then looked around and decided it didn't much matter exactly what he took, so he threw in several random handfuls of gold coins and various jewels, along with some pearls and fancy rings.

He slung his booty over his shoulder and headed for the exit. His sack was almost too heavy, but he could not force himself to remove anything.

The sack seemed to get heavier with every step. By the time he reached the pile of gold near the entrance, he was sweating and panting. He lowered the sack to the ground and stopped to rest.

When he picked it up a few minutes later it didn't feel too heavy, but he had to struggle to move forward with it, as though the air had gained the consistency of mud. He made several steps before he had to drop the sack and rest again. No wonder no one had emptied this treasure cave; the treasure was damned hard to get out.

Zayn tried to get out again and again, with less and less treasure, but the result was always the same. He could not take any of it out of the cave. The girl in the village had told him nobody ever took anything from the treasure cave, and now he knew why. Surely the townspeople had tried long ago and failed to remove anything. He had to face the fact that he couldn't either.

Despite the lure and allure of the gold, Zayn was sure he could turn his back on it and walk away. He had never been rich, and he didn't have to start now. He did not want to end his life like that skeleton, still clutching gold long after life had fled.

Empty handed, Zayn walked out of the cave until he felt the gentle pressure grow
increasingly solid as he pushed against it. Even without any treasure he could not get out. He had been such a fool. The girl in the village had warned him not to enter, but he had been drawn in by the gold.

That's when Zayn noticed something he wished he had seen earlier. To either side of the pile of gold, which had been placed so as to be highly visible from
outside, there were several large boulders. Behind and between them he found more skeletons in deteriorating clothing. Nearby were stacks of swords, knives, shields, armor and clothing, including boots. The clothing was nothing special and most of the boots were badly scuffed and worn. Why should they be here in a treasure cave?

A bit of further experimenting confirmed that Zayn could not get out. He tried throwing out some gold coins, but they slowed and fell near the same line he could not cross. Now he knew why the skeletons were here. Was he to join them? Would he die slowly of hunger and thirst? Would he have time to go mad, like the man who had paved the cave floor with gold bricks?

The sun disappeared and darkness closed in. Zayn fixed himself a meal from his
provisions, laid out his bedroll and settled in for the night. Maybe, if he was lucky, he would dream a way out.

He was sitting in a noisy tavern drinking wine with a monkey. The serving girl delivered another round. The monkey reached into a ceramic jar to pay for the wine but could not pull his fist out. He danced around, flailing the jar wildly until it smashed apart, cascading cold coins across the floor.

Zayn woke up puzzled. The only connection he could make was that he should smash
the mountain open to get out, but that wasn't possible. His mind worried at the problem like a dog on a bone. He came to the conclusion that he would have to be smarter than a monkey to find a way out, then drifted back to sleep.

The morning sun was on the far side of the Monkey's Fist, but that was not the only reason the treasure lacked luster when Zayn woke up. In the dim light Zayn examined the extent of his prison. There was the short passage from the entrance and one large chamber full of treasure. The walls and ceilings were of solid rock. There was no way to break out.

He was pacing back and forth on the gold trail, not paying much attention to the treasure, when something caught his eye and he did a double take. There was a ceramic jar, just like the one in his dream. He peered inside through the narrow neck. It was three quarters full of gold coins. He squeezed his hand inside and grabbed a fistful, but he could not pull his hand out. The neck was too narrow. He released the coins and extracted his hand. His brow furrowed, and he did it all over again.

He started laughing, and continued laughing as he walked back to the mouth of the cave, discarding his ring, his pendant, his meager purse and his knife.

He stopped laughing when he felt the resistance start. He had made it a bit further, but he was still trapped. Panic reached for his heart with an icy hand, but he managed to calm himself. A few moments of thought reassured him. His "fist" was not yet empty. He took off his sandals and shucked his clothes. It would be a harsh walk back to town and he would have to steal some clothes before he got there, but he had done worse things in his short life.