THE DUNGEONEERS 36: INTO THE VOID
by
Gavin Chappell
* * * * *
PUBLISHED BY:
Schlock! Publications
(www.schlock.co.uk)
The Dungeoneers 36: Into the Void
Copyright © 2013 by Gavin Chappell
* * * * *
The story so far (for previous series see end of eBook):
And in this series:
25: The Road to Trinovant - On their way to warn Trinovant of impending doom, the adventurers are pursued by wolves...
26: The Vertical City - Reaching the city of Trinovant at last, the four adventurers encounter new complications...
27: Old Enemies - The adventurers encounter familiar adversaries amid the tangled web of Trinovant...
28: The Desert of Dread - The merchant caravan crosses one of the most dangerous quarters of the notorious Desert of Dread...
29: Death on the Sands - Lost amid the desert sands, assailed by desert orc raiders, the merchants and their adventurer companions find tensions mounting both within and without the caravan...
30: Prince of the Desert Orcs - The adventurers journey across the sands in the company of a savage horde of desert orcs...
31: Altar of Darkness - The adventurers battle their way into the burrows of the desert orcs. Hideous perils await them...
32: The Ornithomancer - Escaping from the desert orcs, the adventurers encounter an avian magician.
33: Amazon Incursion - The four adventurers struggle to save Hollowdale from the threat of the Amazon Legion...
34: The Journey South - What is Immiel doing amongst the Amazon Legion? How will our heroes escape their foes? And will they ever speak with Photogenia the Witch?
35: The Dunghill Rats - After pursuing their quarry to the city of Cosht, the adventurers fall in with thieves...
THE DUNGEONEERS 36: INTO THE VOID
Percy looked urgently at Gerald.
‘It’s her!’ he said.
Gerald was staring at the retreating form of Photogenia, the Witch of the Northern Wastes, as she raced away from them into the street.
‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘We’ve got to speak with her!’
‘No!’ Percy said. ‘I mean, it’s her! The witch!’ By now, Photogenia had vanished round the street leading to the river.
‘Which witch?’ Norman demanded, hefting his sword. ‘We’ve met so many.’
‘You’ve met more fairies,’ Brian sneered. ‘Especially when you joined that theatre troupe.’
‘Shut up!’ Percy exclaimed. ‘I mean it’s that witch we saw in the Witch Wood. Back on Planet Earth! The one we followed! The one who led us into this mess.’
‘Didn’t we see her in Kashamash?’ Gerald asked thoughtfully.
‘Yes, we did,’ said Percy. ‘Not that we knew what she was called back then. I’d never guessed when King Rat gave us this mission that we’d be after her.’
‘Then she can definitely show us the way out of here!’ Norman exclaimed. ‘We can use her dimensional travelling device to go home.’
Gerald regarded his own bloody sword pensively.
Did he really want to go home? What awaited him, except exams, and the possibility of passing them; or else going to college, or even getting a job? As if there were any jobs to get in this latest recession. As if he wanted to get a job!
Their aimless wanderings across this improbable world had certainly been more fun than dozing in double geography, or even cross country running. Dangerous at times, of course. They’d almost lost Norman - shame he turned up in the end. But now their wanderings had brought them here at last, to within a whisker’s breadth of escape.
‘After her,’ Gerald said. ‘Otherwise we’ll never get home.’
Gerald, Percy, Brian and Norman hurried through the muddy streets of the Shipgate District. Photogenia the Witch was visible as they left the yard, sprinting a long way ahead of them. The decrepitude of the district was obvious to Gerald – it reminded him of Bootle back home, or even Rock Ferry. Unlike Kashamash, the city had no Watch, only privately hired thief-takers, and the latter were unwelcome in the Shipgate District. But Photogenia ran from the adventurers as if the police were at her heels.
The four lads burst out onto the wharf. Ahead of them, a galley was prepared to set sail. The gangplank was still attached to the wharf but as he led his fellow adventurers towards it Gerald saw two things: the witch Photogenia haring up the gangplank; and the sailors of the ship hauling the gangplank up behind her as they cast off.
The sails billowed. The oars began to rise and fall. Slowly, rumblingly, the ship began to move off across the blue waters of the river. Gerald watched as the mighty Shipgate itself began to rise. A boat rowed up to the ship’s prow and began to guide her through the tangled waterways of the salt marshes. Three hundred yards of greasy water already lay between the wharf and the ship, and the ship was moving sedately towards the brown waters of the delta. The river was full of shipping, but it seemed that Photogenia’s own vessel had priority.
As soon as the galley passed the Shipgate, a pinkish glow flashed up from the decks. Gerald knew that Photogenia was gone.
Norman ran to the edge of the wharf and began to strip off.
‘What are you doing?’ Gerald demanded.
‘We’ve got to follow her!’ Norman said. He scowled as his torso rippled with adolescent muscles. ‘Only she knows the way out of this world, if anyone does.’
‘How do you know?’ Percy asked.
‘She was the one we followed here!’ Norman said.
‘But we can’t follow her now,’ said Gerald wryly, indicating the rapidly vanishing ship. ‘It’s hopeless. She’s gone. She’s operated her dimensional travelling device and buggered off to the other side of time.’
‘Hey! We could swim after her,’ Brian said enthusiastically.
‘We can’t swim through the dimensions,’ Gerald said.
‘What about getting out of this world, though?’ Norman insisted. ‘The Shipgate Runners are after us.’
Gerald shrugged. ‘Think we taught those buggers a lesson,’ he said. ‘They won’t bother us for a bit.’
Somehow he no longer cared. What awaited them back on Planet Earth anyway? Birth, school, work, death; just like in the song. Sod that. He’d rather be an adventurer. Then again, even that was too much like hard work.
For a while, he thought about Immiel. How he had met her. How she had vanished. How he had found her again, totally unexpected. How it just hadn’t been the same. He realised that his heart had broken and he hadn’t realised it.
He noticed a nearby tavern. Plonking himself down on a bale of something exotic, he slung Brian a purse of gold pieces.
‘Get me some ale, Brian,’ he said, indicating the bar. Percy flopped down beside him as Brian took the money and swaggered towards the tavern. Norman looked at them disapprovingly.
‘Are you going to give up?’ he demanded.
‘Looks like it,’ said Percy laconically.
‘What do really you expect us to do?’ Gerald demanded. ‘Spend the rest of our lives struggling to join the real world? Or have a fucking good time of it round here? We’ve got plenty of gold pieces left.’
Norman joined them petulantly. ‘I still think we should follow the witch Photogenia,’ he insisted feebly. ‘It was the quest King Rat gave us.’
‘Bollocks to King Rat,’ said Percy carelessly, as Brian returned bearing a tray of drinks. He seized a flagon of ale and knocked it back. ‘This is the life.’
Gerald grinned, and took his own flagon. He sipped it. It was surprisingly tasty. He looked out across the river.
‘This
is better than school,’ he said. ‘Better than work.’ He took another swig, and exulted in the liberating feeling of having utterly failed. Gone was that constant feeling that he ought to do something with his life which had weighed down on him like some kinda monkey on his back since he was fourteen. He gazed idly across the blue, shimmering, sparkling water, and out at the glimmering sky.
Then at the pinkly scintillating women lounging by the bar.
‘Sittin’ on the dock of the bay,’ he sang, off-key. First Brian, then Percy, then at last even Norman took up the song.
Percy began to whistle.
EPILOGUE: SOME TIME LATER
At Percy’s desperate shout, Gerald whirled round, his blade glimmering in the single shaft of light that pierced the burial mound’s musty gloom. The barrow wight reared triumphantly above him, warhammer raised.
Gerald flung himself to one side as the weapon smashed into the grave mould at his feet. Quick as lightning, he hacked through the thing’s wrist. The skeletal claw clattered down on the gems and coins of the open treasure chest that lay between Gerald and his necrotic foe.
With a wild scream, Brian brought his axe down on the barrow wight’s skull, splitting it like a rotten egg. Percy and Norman rushed forward, hacking madly at their opponent, dismembering its black, withered body.
But the separate parts began slithering and scrabbling across the black earth towards each other. To no avail, Gerald stomped frenziedly on a tattered leg.
‘It’s trying to reform again!’ Percy shouted.
‘Grab the treasure chest!’ Gerald told him. ‘Grab the chest and leg it out of here. King Rat said that if we replaced the rock door, that thing won’t be able to follow us out of the tomb chamber. Quickly!’
Percy and Brian grabbed either side of the rusty, glyph-inscribed treasure chest, slamming it shut as they did. The scattered members wriggled around them, still struggling to come together.
‘Now get up the shaft!’ Gerald shouted. He and Norman stood panting beside the rough-hewn stone archway as the other two adventurers staggered through, groaning under the weight of the great chest.
Gerald and Norman watched, open-mouthed, as the barrow wight rapidly reformed under their bulging eyes, lacking only its right hand. The remaining claw searched the floor for the fallen warhammer.
‘Time to go,’ Gerald said grimly. They turned, and followed their two friends up the muddy shaft.
***
With a reverberating crash, the great boulder rumbled down to block the gaping barrow mouth. Dusting their hands, Gerald and Norman staggered back as it settled back into place, and looked around the clearing.
The forest was silent except for the mournful soughing of the night wind in the treetops. The moon sailed high in the star-strewn skies above. A few yards from the great barrow, Percy and Brian halted, slamming the chest down in the earth beside them. They turned quickly at the scrambling approach of Gerald and Norman.
‘Let’s not hang around.’ Gerald panted. ‘The barrow wight can’t get out, but I don’t reckon this area is going to be too healthy right now.’
Percy dashed the sweat out of his eyes.
‘Well, you can carry that thing,’ he said wearily, indicating the chest. ‘It’s heavy!’
‘Gladly,’ Gerald replied with a grand gesture. ‘It’s heavy because it’s full of loot.’ He grabbed one end, motioning Norman to take the other. ‘When we get this back to civilisation, we’ll have it made - food, drink, women... everything we’ve ever wanted. No more sleeping out in the cold, wet woods.’
He straightened up, struggling under the weight of the chest. Percy was right - it was heavy. But he was right, too. They had it made. Nothing could go wrong this time.
‘Let’s get back to the camp,’ he wheezed. ‘We can bed down there for the rest of the night, then head on down to Cosht in the morning.’
***
The Mountains of Morning seemed a sinister prospect at high noon; gnarled, tree-swathed crags brooded above the vale and mist hung like steam from the cauldrons of a thousand witches, eternally brewing evil for the peaceful rustic villages below. At blackest midnight it was a truly perilous place. The four young adventurers trod the muddy path beneath the looming oaks with considerable circumspection.
As he staggered under the weight of the chest, Gerald reflected that they had come a long way from King Rat and his thieves’ kitchen in Rats’ Alley. Well, as soon as they got down to the plains, they could pay a farmer for the loan of a cart to transport the loot back to the city that had become their base for adventuring. But it wouldn’t be a good idea to advertise their fortune. Despite their attack on the rival Shipgate Runners, a few of the dandy rogues still lurked in the alleyways of Cosht.
As the adventurers neared their camp, a green shooting star passed low overhead.
‘Look!’ said Percy idly, pointing up. ‘Think it’ll bring us luck?’
Gerald grunted. His mind was still on the heavy chest he was carrying. ‘Just get back to the camp,’ he said. ‘Then we can discuss our good fortune.’
Soon afterwards they reached the stand of fir trees beside the winding Cosht road. Their tents still stood there, beside the cold ashes of their fire. Gratefully, Gerald and Norman slumped down with the rusty chest. Percy and Brian joined them, and they sat in silence for a while. Percy poked at the dead embers with a stick.
He yawned. ‘I’m knackered,’ he said. ‘Think I’ll turn in.’
‘No you don’t,’ said Gerald nastily. ‘You didn’t carry the chest all the way down here. Don’t forget, these hills are still dangerous - especially now we’ve got the treasure. We’ll have to keep watch. And I’ve just voted you to go first.’
Percy shrugged, amused by Gerald’s outburst. ‘Fine, fine,’ he replied. ‘I’ll wake Brian in two hours - unless something happens.’
Grumpily, Gerald scrambled into the tent, and got into his sleeping bag. Brian and Norman followed him. Exhausted, Gerald dozed off.
He was woken from deep, dreamless sleep by a hand shaking his shoulder.
‘Warr-aggh!!!’ he said blearily, looking up to see Percy leaning in through the open tent-flap. ‘Eh, wassup? You’re suppose’ to be on watch!’
Percy’s eyes were wide.
‘Something’s going on,’ he hissed. ‘In the forest nearby. Weird lights and noises.’
By now, the other two were also awake. ‘Lights?’ Norman asked. ‘What kind?’
‘Weird ones,’ Percy replied shortly. ‘Come and take a look.’
Outside the tent, they could all see what he was talking about. The nearby trees glowed eerily, backlit by a ghastly green glow. Odd bleeps and whirrs were audible in the distance, drifting across on the still night air.
‘What is it?’ Brian asked. ‘We should attack it!’
Gerald scowled at him, although his expression was invisible in the dark. ‘Not till we know what it is,’ he said firmly.
‘I reckon we get a bit closer,’ Percy suggested, emboldened by company.
The four youths crept through the tangled briars and bracken. The rank smell of rotting earth and fallen leaves hung heavy in the unmoving air. In the distance, the green lights still glowed.
They reached the top of a small rise, and gazed down into the dell below. Gerald gasped.
In the centre of the open space was a large metal object, about twenty feet across and shaped like an upturned bowl or saucer. It stood on three metal legs, while a gleaming metal ramp ran from a circular hatch in the hull down to the forest floor below. The green light they had seen spilled from the open hatch.
The dell was busy with oddly shaped reptilian figures going about enigmatic, scientific-seeming tasks: investigating shrubs, taking soil samples, studying bark. Another reptilian creature stood on guard at the base of the ramp.
‘Aliens!’ Brian said.
‘But what are they doing here?’ Norman demanded, clutching his sword hilt firmly.
Gerald smirked. ‘What are ali
ens usually doing? Probing things. Right, Percy?’
Percy nodded. ‘Right up the chockie starfish,’ he said.
The four youths watched the bizarre scene for a few moments longer.
‘I reckon we nick their ship,’ Brian said.
Gerald glared at him in irritation, then did a double take. Occasionally the lad’s crazy ideas had some merit. ‘It would save walking,’ he replied thoughtfully. He had worn out a fair few boot soles since they had been so mysteriously transported from their own world to this planet. Momentarily, his heart was stirred by the notion of journeying beyond the farthest stars, to visit strange new worlds, to seek out new civilisations and new life - and rob them.
Into the Void (The Dungeoneers) Page 1
