Pages of Pain p-1

by Troy Denning

  Because he keeps his head cold to the floor, he does not see the dark hand reaching into the tunnel. He does not behold the black ribbon slipping from between its' fingers to flutter down the passage toward him, nor does he notice the scrap circling his body, passing through the mass of clinging pods like a spear through fog. He only remembers himself, hunched and weeping, staring out his palace window toward the distant seashore. There lies his son Hippolytus, crashed beneath the wheels of a chariot when a sea monster rose and frightened the horses.

  "Your son's death is my doing. King." The servant's broken voice comes from behind Theseus's back. "Had I told you how angry Phaedra became when your son rebuked her advances, you would never have called Poseidon's curse down upon him."

  In his hands, Theseus holds a message, found beneath his wife Phaedra's swinging feet, accusing her stepson Hippolytus of defiling her womanly honor. The Thrasson crumples the scroll, and he feels something shrivel inside.

  "No!"

  At last, Theseus has lifted his head off the tunnel's cold floor. The first black pod has burst, covering his chest with a glistening cascade of ebony ichor. "I cannot bear it!"

  "My gift does not please you?" Karfhud stepped into the tunnel. He was furling a new mapping parchment, and there was dark blood dripping from his index talon. "Then I apologize. I thought you wanted to recover your memories."

  Theseus rose and cast a wary eye at the parchment. It looked too damp and pink to have been forgotten someplace in Karfhud's satchel. The Thrasson waved at the thing with his sword's glowing tip.

  "Where did you get that?"

  "I doubt you really want to know," Karfhud said. "But have no fear. I did not kill either of your friends for it."

  "Where else would it come from?" the Thrasson demanded. Perhaps Karfhud had not seen Sheba at all. "Is that what you were thinking of when you let Tessali drown?"

  Karfhud shook his head. "Tessali is not drowned – and your friends are not the only prey in the mazes."

  "But they are the only prey likely to be down here." Theseus sniffed at the rotten air, then added, "At least the only prey whose skin might still be usable."

  "Now you are becoming like Silverwind. Your imagination has taken the place of your wits."

  "Then put my imagination to rest." Theseus stretched his hand out. "Let me see the parchment."

  Karfhud jerked the skin away, orange flames flickering in his maroon eyes. "No one may touch my maps!"

  Theseus's rage welled up, burning like bile in his throat. Had he not known the hilt would slip from his grasp the instant he raised his sword, he would have rushed the fiend and attacked. The Thrasson fixed his eye on the two yellow pods still hanging from the fiend's body, contemplating whether to take what vengeance he could. When he looked down at his own body and saw the mass of husks hanging from it, however, he decided that it might be wiser to forego the reprisal. Simply hurting Karfhud would neither avenge Tessali nor bring him back

  "A wise choice." Karfhud stepped forward and glared down at the Thrasson. "I am certain we could cause each other a great deal of pain and never violate our oaths, but that would neither save Tessali nor help you recover your memories."

  Theseus scowled. "Are you saying-"

  "Yes." Karfhud raised his map. "I have found Sheba's den."

  "And Tessali is inside? Alive?"

  The fiend shrugged. "I would be lying if I claimed to have looked inside. But I saw no sign of him elsewhere – and this is not his." Karfhud waved his new parchment. "But I do feel certain the monster has your amphora. That memory I gave you slipped free of her den as she entered it."

  Theseus regarded the tanar'ri cautiously. "How do I know this isn't a trick?"

  "You are the only one who has ever thought of tricks between us," countered Karfhud.

  "I have no way of knowing that." Theseus was silent for a moment, then said, "I'll go with you after you tell me why you want to attack Sheba."

  Karfhud shook his parchment at Theseus. "Because I need time to complete these!" The fiend's voice was almost fanatical. "And, until she is scattered to the four comers of the mazes, I will not have it."

  "That, I can see already. But surely you have found a way out of the mazes by now?"

  "Of course. Do you think no one in the Abyss has called my name in these many thousand years?"

  "Then why haven't you answered their summons?" Theseus asked. "What can be so important about completing the maps?"

  The fiend looked away. "You would do better to worry about finding your own meaning." He folded his arms, then slumped to the floor. "But if you will not go until I answer that question, we will wait here. It makes no difference to me. Sheba will come for us eventually – when she has done with her other prey."

  A cold tremor ran down Theseus's limbs, then he suddenly felt tight in the chest and more than a little sick to his stomach. He had experienced such sensations a few times before, often enough to recognize them as symptoms of a deep, visceral emotion few men could truly control.

  "You are frightened?" Karfhud gasped. "Of the monster?"

  "Terrified," Theseus admitted. It was the husks, he realized, that truly frightened him. He had faced death more times than he could recall without flinching, but the mere memory of the last time his pods had burst was enough to make him go weak in the knees. He clenched his teeth and motioned Karfhud to stand. "Let's get this done."

  Battered as he was, the fiend leapt to his feet as graces fully as an acrobat. "I have always said the gods hate a coward." He glanced around the tunnel, then added, "Though I suppose that hardly matters here."

  Karfhud unfurled his map and started down the corridor, his muzzle twisting into an anxious.grin. As the tanar'ri pushed past, Theseus tried to sneak a closer look at the parchment. He saw nothing but a section of straight line and a string of fresh gristle.

  "What about Silverwind?"

  Karfhud did not even look up. "If you want to save Tessali, I suggest we waste no time looking for the bariaur."

  Trying not to think about what he could not do if the fiend's reply meant what he thought it did, Theseus followed Karfhud through a long, winding array of cavern passages. Every now and again, the tanar'ri would stop at an intersection to twist his map this way and that and mutter to himself. Most of the time, he barely looked up as he rounded comer after corner and strode one dank tunnel after another. The Thrasson made little effort to keep track of where they were going; even if he somehow found his way back to the whirlpool later, he would have no way to climb up the water spout – and no idea where to go even if he reached the flooded garden.

  Theseus spent much of the walk trying to puzzle out what Karfhud was looking for. The fiend wanted to complete the seemingly impossible task of mapping the ever-expanding mazes, yet he claimed his escape did not depend on success. Only one thing would elicit such devotion from a tanar'ri: power. But how? Was he trying to map a route for an invasion force? Were the mazes somehow tied to the countless number of portals that connected Sigil to the rest of the multiverce? The Thrasson puffed out a breath of exasperation; the mere fact that Karfhud had not complained about his line of thought meant he was not even close to the truth.

  "Of course, my silence could also be misleading." Karfhud looked up from his map and sneered at the Thrasson. "But I doubt it. You would spend your time better worrying about yourself."

  "My thanks for the advice." Theseus nearly gagged as he spoke. Though he had noticed the stench of rotten flesh growing steadily stronger as they advanced into the warren, he had not expected to actually taste the stuff when he opened his mouth. "But we both know what I'm looking for."

  Karfhud raised his pleated brow. "Do we?"

  The fiend turned down a crooked corridor, leaving Theseus to contemplate his question. The Thrasson could not imagine what he might possibly discover in the mazes that he would not stand a better chance of finding back in Arborea. Despite what Karfhud had said in the swamp, it seemed to him he could only be s
earching for his memories. Better than anyone, the Thrasson knew that someone without a past was a hollow crust, a brittle shell of habit laid over a skeleton of animal instinct.

  Karfhud bent his arm back at that impossible angle, stuffing his map into his satchel, then pointed at the floor ahead. Across the gray stone lay a carpet of bones, some old and powdery, some with smears of blood and bits of sinew still clinging to the joints – though none looked fresh enough to have provided the fiend's new parchment. Theseus flushed, and his stomach began to writhe. The dank air grew unbearably close, whether because of the horrid stench or because of his own mounting fear, he could not say. To be rid of the clinging mass of husks, he would have peeled off his own skin. Only the thought that they would burst prevented him from trying.

  "Can you do this thing?" Karfhud asked.

  "If I can't, kill me here."

  "If you cannot, I will not have the chance."

  Carefully picking his way.through the bones, the fiend led Theseus to where a small fissure opened into the wall. Taking the crooked gap to be the entrance to Sheba's lair, the Thrasson slipped forward and peered into the cramped passage – then Karfhud quietly grasped his head and redirected his gaze up the passage.

  About three paces ahead, the tunnel opened into a large, serpentine chamber coiled around an immense pillar of natural stone. The column was square and nearly as broad as a house, the top so high that it was lost in the vaulted darkness above. Aside from a mat of tangled bones strewn about its base, the shaft's only adornment was a decorative post carved into each of its comers. There was no entrance, at least on the two sides the Thrasson could see.

  After allowing the Thrasson to inspect the battle arena, Karfhud waved a claw at the fissure. "Wait in there – with your sword sheathed; it would not do for Sheba to notice its light before you strike."

  Theseus peered again into the cramped passage. It was half filled with the powdering skeletons of those who had perished before in its tight confines, no doubt with the monster lurking just outside. The Thrasson could squeeze his body into the crack easily enough, but his bulky jacket of pods would never fit.

  "What are you frightened of?" Karfhud growled, noticing his hesitation. "Just imagine these pods of yours are soft enough not to break. They are all in your mind anyway."

  "If so, you have imagined them too – or have you forgotten their bite?"

  The fiend snorted in disgust. "We could trade places, but you can hardly be the bait. Sheba would catch you in an instant."

  Theseus glanced into the serpentine chamber and saw the wisdom of what Karfhud said. The fiend's legs, both longer and more powerful than those of any human, were more suitable to plowing through the jumble of bones.

  The Thrasson took a deep breath, then gingerly squeezed into the fissure. Most of the pods, still pulsing in time to his heart, simply passed ghostlike through the stone. A few of the larger husks, squeezed like grapes between fingers, stopped throbbing and rolled along his body. But only one broke. It was a big emerald one that filled his mind with a nettling green fog; as the ichor spilled down his arm, his heart began to race, and his jaws ached with the urge to vomit. He clamped his mouth shut and tried to tell himself it was only the smell of moldy bones troubling him.

  Karfhud stuck his dark head into the fissure and fixed his red eyes on Theseus's face. "It is a mystery to me, this insanity that has come over you – but know this, Thrasson: Karfhud delga' Talator does not give his blood bond to cowards or sods." Compared to the rancid fetor of the cavern, the brimstone stink of the fiend's breath was almost a relief. "When the time comes, you will act like what you are-or we both shall perish."

  Theseus nodded-though not too much, as he did not want to burst any more of his pods. "You may count on it."

  "Good." Karfhud pulled his head from the fissure, then glanced toward the pillar. "Stay hidden until you hear us pass this tunnel. I'll stop just beyond the mouth and drive Sheba back toward you. I am in no condition for a long battle, so take her legs from behind, and quickly. After that, we can scatter her at leisure."

  Karfhud picked the scab on his wrist and offered his blood to dress the Thrasson's star-forged blade. Then, with one last exhortation to be ready, the fiend turned away. Though the bones lay knee-deep in the next chamber, the tanar'ri moved through them in utter silence. Theseus slipped his sword into its scabbard, plunging the fissure into utter darkness, and tried not to think about what would happen when he leapt from his cranny. Perhaps the tanar'ri was right; perhaps he was only imagining the husks – but if so, then he was also imagining the Lady of Pain, and nobody seemed to doubt her existence.

  Theseus was careful to keep his mind off Karfhud until the battle began, which happened soon enough. It started softly, with a low, sonorous growl that rumbled through the cave like an earthquake, making the bones dance, filling the passages with the eerie chatter of a thousand ribs knocking together. Next, the tanar'ri let loose with a deafening bellow – it sounded as terrified as it did angry – and the Thrasson knew the time had come to make his plans.

  There were a couple of muffled thuds somewhere deep in the serpentine chamber, then the distant crackling of Karfhud's heavy feet stomping through the bone pile. Theseus did not consider, even for a moment, the possibility that the fiend intended to let him live after the battle. As little as the Thrasson knew about the maps, he was sure the tanar'ri would have liked it better if he did not know anything-and lords of the Abyss had a habit of getting exactly what they liked.

  A sharp tearing sound rasped up the passage, followed by a tanar'ri curse and a loud, wet slap. The monster roared, leaving Theseus's ears ringing and making it nearly impossible to hear the bones crackling under the feet of the two enormous brutes. The Thrasson began to ease out of the fissure, praying he would not burst too many of the husks. He would not be much use lying on the ground writhing in pain. And, whatever Karfhud was planning for after the battle, the fiend was telling the truth about one thing, at least: if they did not destroy the monster together, they would perish together.

  Karfhud's heavy steps splintered past the mouth of the passage, with Sheba's close behind. Theseus pushed a leg free of the fissure-and felt a pop. Something warm and sticky oozed down his thigh. He nearly bit his tongue in.two to keep from screaming, then his leg went dead and useless, a scalding wave of anguish seething down its length. His knee buckled, and he tumbled out of the fissure onto the dark, bone-strewn floor.

  How many pods burst, or which ones, Theseus could not say. He simply fell into a boiling ocean of pain. For an instant-it could have been no longer than that, though it seemed an hour to him-he lay there trying not to scream, not to writhe or beat his feet against the floor, or to do anything that would draw the monster's attention. Half a dozen paces away, he could hear the battle raging: growling, pounding, tearing, snorting, popping, snapping, splintering, and muffled shattering. Karfhud growled, Sheba roared, he screeched, she wailed. The smell of sulfur and ash, tanar'ri gore and monster blood, filled the passage.

  Theseus pushed himself to his feet. The effort sent rivers of molten slag boiling through his veins, but he forced himself to stumble toward the din. He did not ran; if he ran, he might fall. If he fell, more husks would spill their ichor, and then he would be done. As it was, every throbbing, raw nerve in his body was begging him to turn away from the maelstrom, to flee into the darkness; he kept them at bay only by concentrating on the pain he would feel if Sheba survived to catch him alone later.

  Something wet and foul-smelling swept through the darkness, so close to Theseus's face that he felt the air stir across his' cheeks. Karfhud let out a low, deep groan, then countered with a terrific, wet-sounding blow. Sheba's sticky blood spattered the Thrasson's brow.

  As Theseus started to pull his bright-shining sword, he heard Karfhud clatter a single step backward. The battle lapsed for just an instant Sheba stood wheezing in the darkness, no doubt trying to puzzle out the cause of the strange lull, and then the Thrasson
understood Karfhud's plan.

  "Why do you wait?" the tanar'ri yelled. "Strike!"

  And Sheba did, launching such a furious assault that it sent the tanar'ri crashing to the floor in a thundering din of old crackling skeletons and fiendish bones breaking anew. Karfhud shrieked in pain, and the monster roared in glee.

  Theseus leapt into the darkness, whispering a single word as he drew his sword: "Darkstar."

  The star-forged blade came out of its scabbard black as ebony, then slashed through something the thickness of an olive tree. Sheba howled and crashed to the ground. Theseus, attacking blindly, struck again. This time, his steel bit deep into the monster's thick midsection. She hissed in pain and rolled across the jumble of skeletons. The Thrasson followed by sound, swinging blindly into the darkness and cleaving nothing but bones. Still, he did not light his weapon; wife the tip of his sword glowing bright as a moon, he would have drawn the monster's attention straight to himself, leaving Karfhud free to clean up the mess at his leisure.

  Theseus, still chopping his way across the cavern floor, much preferred things as they were now-especially when he heard the clamor of rattling bones and snarling throats off to his left. He stumbled over and began hacking into the darkness, taking no care what he struck so long as the blow landed on something live. Three times, he felt that star-forged steel slice through something as big around as his waist, and three times he heard the monster roar. He heard Karfhud, too, but groaning, and that only softly. The Thrasson took no care; he continued to swing until, at last, a claw lashed out of the darkness to send him crashing to the cluttered floor.

  Theseus felt the husks bursting one after the other, and now he could not stop himself from screaming. Still, he rolled to his feet, lost his legs and plunged through a vat of boiling, seething anguish. He began crawling back toward the battle.