Greyhawk - [Quag Keep 02] - Return to Quag Keep

by Andre Norton, Jean Rabe (v1. 0) (epub)

  “I think I’m feeling a little better.” Naile was pacing in a tight circle, oblivious to the creatures cavorting across the granite and chert. “Now it only feels like I’ve been punched in the stomach a couple of times.” He took a few deep breaths, then glared at Milo again. “Well, what about that ring?”

  Milo glanced away from the fey and again studied the ring. “Too many distractions,” he whispered. “The crystals, the tiny dancing shadow-women. We need to find the . . . there! I feel something." His thumb tingled, and he realized it had been tingling for some time and that he’d been dismissing it as part of his malady.

  Stomach still churning, he pushed himself away from the wall and followed the pull of the ring. Milo’s course took him through a line of stalactites and stalagmites that reminded him of a row of teeth. The tingling grew stronger when he passed around a rocky outcropping where the light from the green flames couldn’t quite reach.

  "Wish I hadn’t dropped that torch. Could go back and get it, but — ” Louder: " Jalafar-rula! Can you move that green bonfire? Can you bring it over here?”

  "Glad to help, Milo Jagon.” The wizard took a little more of A1-freeta’s energy, then with a finger wave sent the green flame rolling toward Milo. The fire made the crystals in the stalactites and stalagmites glow and sent shards of green light up toward the dancing shadow fey.

  "This is beautiful,” Yevele said. "Wish I felt better and could fully appreciate it. ”

  Berthold was also watching the dance between the light shards and the fey creatures. "Nothing like this in the caves in Kentucky. Something like this . . . well, it would bring in a lot more tourists. Imagine the money the parks departments would make. It would take in an awful lot of money.”

  The cavern floor sloped down steeply around a curve in the wall. But it was rough enough. Milo didn’t need to worry about his footing. A few of the crystals protruded from the floor ahead, and as the huge green flame moved behind him, the light shards they cast danced wildly. Shadow fey slid down the wall and toward the shards, cavorting with them while staying a safe distance from Milo’s feet. He glanced at them as he continued to follow the gentle tug of the magic.

  “Yevele! Come see this.”

  That gentle pull had taken him to something amazing. In an alcove that stretched to the ceiling, mushroom-shaped crystals of blue and green were so thick he could see very little of the granite they grew from. Their colors pulsed in time with his heart. Even from several yards away, Milo could hear a soft hum coming from the crystals. Beyond this alcove other crystals were scattered sporadically in the wall, these looking like icicles, fingers stretching out. The shadow fey darted among them. On the floor beneath the icicle crystals was a mound of treasure.

  "A dragon’s horde,” Milo said. His voice was filled with awe. "Yevele! ”

  The green flame moved closer, as did Yevele and Naile, Alfreeta again on the berserker’s shoulder. Berthold and Jalafar-rula stood at a distance taking it all in, the thief’s eyes wide and unblinking and assessing which pieces were the most valuable.

  Coins were spilled across the floor, of various shapes and with different faces pressed on them. They were all gold, though they were all tinted green in the wizard’s light. There were gems scattered in the mix, though the exact colors were difficult to tell because of the green flame, and there were necklaces and bracelets, too, some long strands of pearls, others heavy gold links. A scepter sat on top, gold and festooned with dark stones, looking heavy enough to be wielded as a weapon.

  “The scepter . . . could that be what we’re looking for?” Milo kneeled at the edge of the treasure sprawl and stretched to reach the scepter. His ring had stopped tugging him, and so he guessed whatever it was he needed was in the mass of wealth. “It is heavy.” He set it back down and remained hunched over as another nauseous wave struck.

  Jalafar-rula shook his head. “I don’t think so. If I remember correctly, yon scepter once belonged to King Kale.”

  “And King Kale dropped another goblin in the mud, ’’ Naile said.

  “You need to find something not made by man, Milo Jagon. That would be what Pobe uses to pull the magic. Something beautiful that made itself. ”

  Milo raised an eyebrow and started sifting through the coins and gems. In a heartbeat Berthold was at his side, slipping small stones into his boot, not caring that the crystals pressing between the leather and his leg were uncomfortable. Naile took off his tunic and ripped a strip off it from the bottom. He was fashioning a crude sack, intending to use the strip to tie it closed.

  Berthold started to do the same, then yanked his tunic back down, not wanting the others to see the patch of rat hair growing on his side.

  “Might as well gather up some of this wealth,” Naile told Milo. “At least while we’re looking for something that made itself. No use letting all this stuff just lay here. If we don’t get out of this realm, all this gold could be handy.” He spread out his makeshift bag and started putting necklaces and gems in it, along with some of the larger and heavier coins. “Yevele, don’t you want some of this?”

  She shook her head. She was already loaded down with gems. But then a long pearl necklace caught her eye and she moved forward. She had room around her neck for a few more baubles. And there was nothing yet on her wrists.

  “This is like the game,” Naile said. “You enter the castle, defeat the monsters, and then collect the treasure. But this is a horde my game master never would have given us. He always held back and kept us from getting rich." Naile laughed. “He said that I made enough money as an attorney, I didn’t need to make money in the game." Then the berserker doubled over and clutched his stomach. “Damnable water.”

  “I don’t want this to be like the game,’’ Berthold muttered. “I don’t. ...” He spotted a dagger with a bejeweled handle, the blade made of something mirror-bright. “Now that’s for me.” Next to it was a scabbard of polished ebonwood and inlaid with gold or brass—too difficult to tell with the green flames. “This is nothing that made itself.” He strapped the scabbard to his belt and tested the feel of the dagger. “Balance is perfect.” Then he sheathed it and returned to picking through the treasure pile.

  Milo wasn’t gathering treasure, though he was pointing out some choice pieces to Naile, and he tossed a gold and jade bracelet to Yevele. He was looking for something unusual that might be Pobe’s device. “Why would this fellow Pobe keep something so valuable and important to him in the middle of his treasure pile? Wouldn’t he keep it separate? I would. I wouldn't want any trespassers to pick it up.” “Not just anyone could find their way here, Milo,” Berthold lectured. He’d said something similar to Yevele when they stood before the jar of gems. “I’d say anything in these caverns is safe from looters.” Milo shook his head. “Maybe. ” The edges of the coins bit into the palms of his hands as he knelt on the middle of the pile. He glanced over his shoulder at Jalafar-rula, the wizard standing next to the flames as if he was cold and needed the fire’s warmth. The old man’s hair seemed to be the color of olives, and the lines on his face looked deeper in the eerie light. But the eyes were bright, and they met Milo’s. The wizard looked hopeful.

  “You have to have some idea what I’m looking for,” Milo said. “Can’t you cast some spell and conjure up an image of this device? ” Jalafar-rula dropped his gaze to the treasure. “I think I’ll know what it is when I see it. Keep looking.”

  Milo gave an exasperated sigh. He saw one of the shadow fey melt from the wall like butter and move over the top of the coins. It was a slight female form with wings on her feet, and she circled his hand. It was the closest one of them had gotten to him.

  "Can you hear me?” Milo asked.

  The shadow fey circled faster.

  Was that an answer? he wondered.

  "Creature, do you know what we search for? Something that drains magic? Something that made itself?

  She darted away from him and up the wall, and Milo shook his head and cursed himse
lf for trying to talk to a piece of shadow. But a heartbeat later she returned and circled his hand again, then she moved away more slowly, making sure she had his attention this time. She was leading him away from the mound of treasure, farther from the green bonfire and toward another alcove filled with crystals.

  Milo followed her, nearly stepping on Berthold’s fingers as he tromped across the coins and down the other side of the treasure pile.

  "Wizard, come take a look at this.” Naile had found something beneath a bowl of pearls. "Doyou think this is what we're looking for?” Milo didn’t turn back, he kept after the shadow fey, hand pressed to his aching stomach as he went. The crystals in this alcove looked darker, partly because they were farther from Jalafar-rula s bonfire, and partly because they looked to be made of a different type of stone. Smoky like quartz, these were shaped roughly like elm leaves, with the ones toward the bottom of the alcove larger. The colors around their edges moved, glowing golden and orange. Though there was a patch of crystals that showed no light.

  Behind him, Milo heard his fellows discussing some metal sculptures, heard Jalafar-rula say “they did not make themselves.”

  Farther away, where Berthold had noticed cracks in the cavern floor, something stirred. The shadows darkened there to a blackest black, and something oozed from one of the cracks. It looked like a pool of oil, and it shimmered darkly, pulsing in time with the crystals near it.

  “They come," the icicle-shaped crystals told the ooze. “They are here.”

  “The trespassers pick from your treasure,” reported the crystals shaped like mushrooms. “The wizard Jalafar-rula with them.”

  The black ooze rippled in anger and amusement.

  TWENTY-NINE

  The End of the Game

  “Unusual, and no doubt magical,” Jalafar-rula pronounced the metal sculpture Naile held high.

  The thing was made of brass and silver, having the tail of a fish, the torso and arms of a man, and the head of a lion. It was pitted in places, from coins rubbing against it, but it was nonetheless impressive looking.

  “Magical, huh?” Naile asked. “Any idea what it does?”

  The wizard shook his head. “So many of these bits of treasure are familiar to me, Naile Fangtooth, as years past I used to travel these chambers — before my bones got so old and other things started to interest me. Perhaps it turns into a ship or summons forth a sea beast. Whatever guess you have would be as good as mine.” He steepled his fingers under his chin. “Not what we are looking for. If my memory serves, what we seek is made of crystals.”

  “And it made itself,” Naile said. “Made of crystals and made itself.” Milo heard that, and the grumble in his throat matched the grumble of his stomach. “I think Jalafar-rula knows exactly what we’re

  looking for. I think wizards just feel a need to be mysterious.” He kept his musings soft, sharing them with the shadow fey woman who continued to swirl around on the crystal alcove. “Made of crystals and made itself.”

  Milo scratched at his head. “Fey woman. ...” The small shadow stopped dancing, hovering now on the wall directly in front of him. “You’re alive, so these crystals could be alive, too, huh? Growing? Making themselves? Someone mentioned them breathing, Yevele, I think.”

  The shadow ley woman swam in circles against the crystals on the walls, and Milo took that for ayes.

  “The crystals humming, blinking like the lights on a department store Christmas tree. They really are talking, aren’t they?”

  Another circle.

  “Are they talking to you?”

  The shadow fey remained immobile, save for her fluttering two-dimensional wings.

  “To someone else?”

  She circled twice more.

  “To Jalafar-rula?”

  She stopped moving.

  Milo tugged his fingers through his hair. “This is like talking to my old boss, like pulling teeth to get a good answer. At least you’re not as ugly, and you don’t have three chins. At least I remember that much about the shop.” He stared at her and then swallowed hard. Suddenly his stomach churned, the sensation not entirely due to all the water he’d drunk. “Are the crystals talking to this fellow Pobe?”

  She circled rapidly, beating her wings so fast Milo thought he could feel a breeze from them. Then she climbed toward the ceiling overhead, where she disappeared in the shadows. On the wall in front of him, the crystals hummed softly and continued to blink gold, orange, and yellow.

  Was it his imagination, or were the crystals blinking faster?

  “Keep looking, Naile Fangtooth. That which you seek must be near. My divinations told me as much before Pobe lured me into his clutches and locked me away.” The old wizard was wringing his hands. "You must be close. I think you should be able to feel the device.”

  Yevele was putting another strand ol pearls around her neck. "Damn me, paying attention to this treasure.”

  “You’re human is all,” Berthold offered.

  “What do you mean, feel it?” Yevele dropped an armband she’d intended to put on. She picked it back up and fastened it above her elbow. “How would you feel it?”

  Jalafar-rula pursed his pale lips. “A device that pulls magical energies to it would . . . feel like something," he tried to explain. "It would not be a static thing, battlemaid. You should feel it. Whether it be warmth or^—”

  “Could you hear it?” Naile interrupted. “Because I think I hear something. Other than these humming crystals.”

  “Feel it, hear it,” Milo mumbled several yards away. He was on his hands and knees now, face inches from the part of the alcove where the crystals were the thickest, and where the fewest of them gave off light. There was something here that clawed at his curiosity, something that didn’t sit quite right with him. “Feel what?”

  He held his hand against the crystals, feeling the ones sparking gold and yellow vibrate. He put his ear to them. They were humming, louder than they had been. But not the dull, smoky crystals. No sound came from them, no vibrations. Milo tugged at one of them, and it broke off easily. Then he pulled at another and another, breaking them away like dry twigs. Something glowed behind them, a soft rosy hue. He worked faster and meant to call out to his companions, but they were chattering about various objects they were uncovering.

  Jalafar-rula was pulling more arcane energy from Alfreeta to make the green bonfire brighter to aid in their search. More of the light was reaching Milo’s alcove now, making it easier for him to work.

  “Should call for them,” Milo said. “But not yet.” Besides, Milo thought, this might not be it. This might just be more of the crystals.

  Some of the brighter crystals around the hole he was making blinked faster, and Milo blinked, too. He could have sworn they were moving. Slightly, turning just a bit, certainly not moving like he could move or like the shadow fey could move.

  Pobe oozed closer, spreading out over the floor and studying Jalafar-rula bathed in the eerie light. Pobe preferred the darkness, welcome and smothering and mysterious. The wizard’s light bothered him, and so he sent a ripple outward through the cavern’s floor. It was the first spell he’d ever perfected, learned shortly after he gained awareness in this very cavern beneath Quag Keep. A part of Pobe felt obligated to Jalafar-rula, for the old wizard was one of those who helped give him life from the malignant runoff of their own enchantments. But that part of Pobe was small, and the sense of obligation was overwhelmed by the need for power and magic.

  The green flames dimmed a little at Pobe’s coaxing, and he oozed closer still.

  Jalafar-rula and his otherworld assistants were so caught up in their search through the treasure that they didn’t notice the flames lowering and the light dimming. And only one of them heard the “shushing” sound Pobe made as he flowed across the stone, and he wasn't being taken seriously.

  “I really thought I heard something,” Naile said. He turned his head toward the flames and listened more closely.

  Berthold scooped
up handfuls of coins and let them fall, the clinking drowning out whatever Naile had been paying attention to.

  “I hear the sound of a dozen Corvettes,” Berthold said. “A garage big enough for all of them.” The thief was on his hands and knees, rooting through the pile of riches. He swiveled to look up at Jalafar-rula. "We are going to get back home, aren’t we? We find whatever device you’re looking for, and then you ’ll use some of your magic to bop us back to Earth.”

  The old wizard finally noticed his light had faded and he drew more energy from Alfreeta to power it. The little dragon whimpered, but didn’t protest. Then the wizard smelled something sulfurous, and he drew more energy still.

  "He comes,” the crystals hummed. Though Jalafar-rula and the others did not understand their language, they could hear the pleasant musical sound intensity. “Pobe comes.”

  “He’s here,” Jalafar-rula warned.

  “Who?” this from Yevele, who was standing now and drawing her sword, sensing the old wizard’s unease.

  “Pobe,” the wizard returned. “Can you not smell him?”

  “I smell something as foul as the pit,” Naile said. “And I still hear something.”

  “You hear Pobe.” Jalafar-rula drew still more energy from Alfreeta, feeling the magic fill his old body. “And you smell his stench."

  Drained, the little dragon glided to Naile's feet. The berserker was standing, too. He held the scepter as if it were a mace. His nostrils quivered, and his eyes constantly moved, looking at eye-level for what he expected to be a man.

  “I had hoped we would be here and gone before the Darkness came,” Jalafar-rula continued. “Found what I needed.”

  “The Darkness?” Berthold had finally stood up, too, the bejeweled dagger in his hand.

  “Pobe. You should know that Pobe is also the Darkness.” Softer: “And the darkest part of a wizard’s soul.”

  Jalafar-rula pointed to a spot beyond the olive-green bonfire.