"No, but the principle is the same for binding anything."
"True. But the normal Names of Power probably would not control in the case of an Old One. You'd have to go back to the Elder Gods for the necessary nomenclature."
Derkon slapped his thigh.
"Good! I've got you thinking about it!" he said. "You work out the proper list of Names while I figure the modifications. We'll put them together when we get there and tie the old boy in knots!"
Odil shook his head.
"It's not that easy…"
"Try!"
"I'll help," said Hodgson when Odil looked dubious. "I can think of no other plan."
They talked of it as they finished eating, and Derkon assembled the spell. Finally he said, "Why postpone it?" and the others nodded.
They departed the pantry and halted.
"We came this way," said Hodgson, frowning, placing his hand upon the wall to his right. "Didn't we?"
"I thought so," Derkon said, looking at Odil, who nodded.
"We did. However—" He turned to the left. "This is the only way now open to us."
They moved in that direction.
Hodgson cleared his throat.
"Something is obviously guiding us away from our objective," he said as they passed through a wide, low hall. "Either Jelerak is back and toying with us, or the Old One has become aware of our intentions and is steering us away. In which case—"
"No," said Derkon. "I am sufficiently sensitive to feel that something else is behind it."
"What?"
"I do not know, but it does not seem unkindly disposed toward us."
Leaving the hall and taking another turn, they came to a small alcove. Displayed upon a heavy wooden table within it were three blades of various lengths, each with a scabbard and belt.
"Something like that," he said. "I'll wager that each of us will find one of them suitable."
"As suitable as a blade can ever be," Odil remarked as they moved forward and took them up.
The dark thing burst forth upon the open rampart, eyes flashing beneath a pale, sooty, yellow sky. It tossed its head, looking upon a pulsing landscape of sand and stone. The winds screamed about it and were harsh.
I have come, it said in a special way, to this place where we can talk. I will help you.
Perhaps, came the reply from all around.
What do you mean, "Perhaps"?
The man thinks you a demon, little brother.
Let him. We've other problems.
True. So let us confine ourselves to the Hounds.
I do not understand.
All the more reason to pay heed.
Limping slightly as he approached the threshold to the main hall—each passage closed off behind him, no other way open to him—Baran saw Vane at the same moment Vane saw him. Baran hesitated. Vane did not.
Brandishing his blade, a curse upon his lips, Vane rushed forward.
When he had crossed half the distance between them, a ripping noise occurred beside Vane, and out of the dark V which had opened in the air to his left came forth an enormous hand. It seized him about the middle, raised him above the floor, then cast him, bouncing and sliding, across the hall, his rust-tipped weapon spinning free of his grip, to fetch him with a crash up against the mirrored wall, where he lay still.
The Hand hovered in midair as Baran stumped into the hall. Vane's head turned toward him and he moaned softly.
Slowly closing itself into a fist, the Hand moved toward Vane.
"That's Vane!"
"And there's Baran!"
"Get him!"
Baran's gaze flew to the rear of the hall, where three figures had entered. He recognized the former prisoners, saw immediately that they were armed. They commenced sprinting in his direction, their images multiplied in the mirrors at either side.
Baran drew his blade as he turned toward them, but let it hang loosely at his right side. His left hand was still tucked firmly behind his belt.
The great Hand, poised to strike Vane, opened wide and fled through the air toward the approaching men. Seeing it come, Odil ducked, swung at it and missed. It struck Derkon, knocking him off his feet and into Hodgson, sending both men sprawling. The Hand immediately turned and flew after Odil, fingers crooked, thumb bending.
Odil was almost upon Baran, his blade upraised, when he was seized from behind in a massive grasp and lifted above the floor. Blood rushed from his nose and his ribs cracked audibly as he struck downward, cutting at one of the fingers.
Then, off to the right, Baran detected a flash of green. It was the new prisoner, the one Semirama had made such a fuss over…
The Hand jerked, tightening violently, and Odil emitted a brief, bubbling cry before going limp in its grasp, the blade slipping from his fingers. Then the Hand rushed forward, opening, and Odil's crushed form was hurled toward Dilvish.
Dilvish sidestepped and kept coming as the body flashed by him, landing with a thud somewhere to the rear. But now the Hand was rushing directly toward him.
Dilvish, who had seen Hodgson and Derkon regaining their feet and a slow movement from the fallen form of Vane across the hall, knew that none of these others would be able to help him at this point. He sought through his magical arsenal after some weapon even as he dove forward and rolled beneath the Hand. His green boots struck the floor and he was borne immediately to his feet, to whirl, blade raised, and strike the little finger from the rushing Hand.
The Hand convulsed. The finger, dripping a pale fluid which turned to smoke, struck the floor and rolled for half a turn.
Baran raised his blade and backed away. The Hand straightened, dropped, and swung in a floor-skimming slap at Dilvish.
Dilvish leaped over it and cut downward with his blade as it passed, nicking the back of the thumb. Derkon and Hodgson came up beside him as he landed.
"Spread out!" he said. "Hit it from all sides! Keep apart!"
The Hand halted in a backswing as three blades were raised against it from various angles. Dilvish rushed forward and cut at it. It swung at him and he leaped back. Even as it moved, Hodgson and Derkon were both upon it, cutting. It brushed them away and Dilvish darted in and nicked it again. Smoke now rose from half a dozen cuts upon it.
In the mirror, as he danced back, Dilvish saw that Vane was crawling slowly forward, his blade in his hand.
Derkon, recovered, fell upon the Hand again and Dilvish moved to do the same. At that moment, however, the Hand shot straight up into the air, out of their reach. Seeing that Baran intended to swat them one by one from above, Dilvish instantly raised his blade. The others did the same. It was then that Dilvish decided upon his magical weapon, and in a steady voice he began speaking the ancient words.
It was one of the lesser of the Awful Sayings, to lay absolute, impenetrable blackness upon a locale for an entire day. Dilvish heard a gasp from Derkon as that one overheard a phrase.
The Hand circled, feinted several times. Then a mournful sighing sound filled the hall, accompanied by an abrupt drop in temperature. As Dilvish finished speaking, the light began to roll away, as in a succession of waves.
They were left in total darkness.
"Get him!" Dilvish breathed, and he moved quickly.
Blade extended before him now, he headed toward the place where Baran had been standing. He heard a great swishing sound descending and threw himself flat. It passed.
He scrambled to his feet and continued on. He heard a sharp intake of breath nearby. But it was not repeated and he was not certain as to its direction. He heard a brief scuffle, and Derkon and Hodgson both cursed. They had apparently run into one another.
There came another swishing and a thud from somewhere behind him as the Hand slapped the floor.
It seemed that Baran could have moved to his left, his right or backward. But going backward would most readily have led him into a corner. Left seemed to offer the greatest degree of freedom, so Dilvish turned, moved again, blade waving before him.
It grew brighter.
Vague outlines were now becoming perceptible. Something was wrong. He knew of no power which would break an Awful Saying. Yet a faint illumination was definitely creeping into the hall.
High overhead, the Hand groped ghostlike through the middle air. A few moments more, and it could be dropping toward him again. He cast his eyes wildly about. There was movement. The forms of crouched men. But which one?
Suddenly there came the sounds of another scuffle, but this one ended in a brief scream. Then it resumed. It came from ahead and somewhat to the right. Yes! There!
Two figures writhed together upon the floor. There came another cry even as Dilvish began his cautious advance.
The darkness continued to ebb. Something overhead caught his eyes. The Hand, now plainly visible, clutched and opened, began to twitch spasmodically. It dipped and hovered again several times.
Then he saw below. The huge form of Baran lay atop that of Vane, the edge of Vane's blunted blade halfway into the neck. Neither figure stirred, but now the Hand was dipping again.
Fingers extended, it reached beneath the upper, stilled form. Trembling then, it lifted Baran into the air. Beneath it, Dilvish could see where Baran's blade protruded from Vane's breast.
Shaking steadily, the Hand rose higher in the increasing light. The black V behind it stood out clearly against the lesser darkness. Then the Hand began to retreat into that aperture, taking Baran with it.
Dilvish and the others watched the slow withdrawal until only three massive fingertips were visible. Then these, too, slid out of sight and the rift closed with a sound like a thunderclap.
Immediately, they became aware of movement all about them.
Turning, Dilvish saw a series of gigantic faces within the mirrors which lined the walls—black, red, yellow, pale; some almost human, many far removed from any resemblance to mankind; some amused, several placid, others frowning; all, bathed in a supernatural light, their gazes too mighty to return. He looked away, and in that moment they vanished and the yellow light returned to the hall at its fullest strength.
He shook himself and rubbed his eyes, wondering whether the others had seen what he thought he had.
"There was a couch in that little room," he heard Hodgson saying to Derkon.
"Yes."
He sheathed his blade and followed them as they bore Vane's body out of the hall. While they arranged it upon the couch, he tore down a hanging, took it back, and cast it over Odil's remains. Then he moved toward the rear of the hall.
"Dilvish. Wait."
He halted, and shortly the other two came up beside him.
"Are we together?" Derkon asked him.
"Physically, for the moment," Dilvish said. "But I still have my own business to take care of, and it's likely to prove even nastier than this was."
"Oh," said Derkon. Then, "How do you propose getting away afterward?" he asked.
Dilvish shook his head.
"I've no idea," he replied. "Maybe I won't be able to."
"That seems an awfully defeatist—"
The floor began to vibrate. The walls seemed to sway, and a mighty groaning sound rose up out of the bowels of the castle. Phantom forms fled briefly across the room, passing through mirror or wall. The light grew more stable. Derkon clutched Hodgson's shoulder for support as the castle gave a final shudder before settling down.
Then a silence came over the place, shortly to be tapped—very lightly—by the ticking of the great clock.
"Always something doing around here, isn't there?" Derkon remarked, grinning weakly.
The big doors at the end of the hall rattled, as with a heavy gust of wind. Dilvish turned slowly in that direction, as if hypnotized.
"I wonder," he said, "whether it has stopped."
He began walking back. After a moment's hesitation the others followed him.
Partway across the hall, they heard a crash followed by a rumbling sound from outside. It grew louder, as if approaching, then ceased abruptly. The door rattled again.
Dilvish continued on, passing the clock, entering the sitting room without a glance at the form on the couch, crossing to the door, and gripping its handle.
"You're going outside?" Hodgson asked.
"I want to see."
Dilvish opened the door and a chill breeze crept in past them. They appeared to be situated in the midst of a great, pale plain, ringed by a range of misty, coppery mountains which faded off into a twilit sky. It took several moments for them to realize that the shrunken, straw-colored disk about halfway to midheaven must, as the major source of illumination, be the remains of the sun. Stars were plainly visible up to three of its own diameters about it. A shower of meteors suddenly cut the prospect above the mountains to the left. A yellow dust cloud drifted and settled, rose again, swirled, vanished. Hodgson coughed. The air had a raw, metallic flavor to it.
Suddenly a pair of gigantic rocks appeared upon the plain, bounced along it for a time, fell still. It took the rumbling noise perhaps half a minute to reach them. Before that occurred, however, a huge red hand came down out of the sky and scooped them up, shaking them like thunder above the watchers' heads.
Dilvish followed the ruddy arm with his eyes up into the misty area, where, after several moments' staring, he was able to discern the outline of a colossal kneeling body, vaguely human in form, stars shining through it, meteors in its hair. It raised the arm an unimaginable distance into the sky, fist shaking. It was only then that the cube-like shape of the rocks registered itself upon Dilvish's understanding.
He looked away. His eyes, now accommodated to the scale of things and the wavelengths involved, had less difficulty in discerning other monolithic beings—like the great black figure, head propped on one hand, two arms folded across its breast, the fingers of a fourth hand stroking the southeastern mountaintops above which it reclined; the shadowy white figure with one eye and one gaping socket, which leaned upon a staff that reached higher than the sun, stars like fireflies caught in its floppy hat; the slow-dancing woman with many breasts; the jackal-headed one; the whirling tower of fire…
Dilvish looked at his companions, saw that they were staring, too, expressions of unutterable awe upon their faces.
The dice were rolled again and the dust rose about them. The celestial figures leaned forward. The black one grinned and moved one of his hands to take up the cubes. The red one straightened and withdrew. Dilvish closed the door.
"The Elder Gods…" Hodgson said. "I never thought I'd be permitted to look upon them…"
"For what," said Derkon, with as much caution as awe, "do you think they might be gaming?"
"Not being privy to the councils of the gods," Dilvish replied, "I can't say for certain. But I've a feeling I had better conclude my business as quickly as possible."
The rumbling sound reached them and the big doors inside rattled again.
"Gentlemen, excuse me," Dilvish said, and he turned and departed the room.
Hodgson and Derkon regarded one another for only a moment, then hurried after.
"You will be accompanying me?" Dilvish asked as they drew up alongside him.
"Despite the dangers you mentioned, I feel that we may all ultimately be safer by staying together," Derkon answered.
"I agree," said Hodgson. "But would you mind telling us where it is that we are headed?"
"I do not know," Dilvish answered, "but I am coming to trust the genius of this place, whatever it may be, and I am willing to surrender myself to its guidance again. Our objectives may be the same."
"What if it is Jelerak, leading you on to some doom?"
Dilvish shook his head.
"Jelerak, I am certain, wouldn't have halted the show to feed me the decent meal I received on the way over here."
They entered th
e rear passageway Dilvish had taken earlier on his flight from the lower regions. The door still creaked, but the corridor was only about a fourth its former length. There was no right turn at its end, and there were no slave quarters to the left. The room of the blue flame had vanished completely. The walls were all paneled in dark wood and the windows rectangular affairs that slid up and down, set in wooden frames, possessed of peculiar shading devices, draped with white lace curtains. They mounted a wooden stair. There were more paintings on the walls in that peculiar, bright, suggestive style Dilvish had noted earlier.
Outside, they heard again the rumble of the dice, followed this time by something like titanic peals of laughter.
Another turn, and they entered one of the galleries, narrower now and with a long carpet down its center. The windows had grown more rectangular here also, though the walls and floors remained stone.
"Do you feel that this place is growing smaller even as we move about in it?" Hodgson asked.
"Yes," Dilvish replied, looking back. "It seems to be turning itself into something else. And have you noticed that there have been no options, no choices, as to the way we are to go? It is being very definite now."
Ahead, Dilvish heard a series of strange chirping sounds. Abruptly, he halted. Hodgson and Derkon did the same, raising their hands and moving them about. Something was barring the way.
The air began to shimmer before them. It grew opaque, darkened further. Dilvish found himself touching a stone wall.
He turned away. The air was shimmering about six paces behind him. He moved toward it, along with the others. The phenomenon was repeated. The window provided illumination within their sudden cell, but a quick inspection revealed that there was no way to get from it to one of the other windows along the smooth outer wall.
"You were saying," Derkon observed, "that you trust the genius of this place."
Dilvish snarled.
"There is a reason. There must be a reason!" he snapped.
"Timing," said Hodgson. "I think it's timing. We're too early."
"For what?" Derkon asked.
"We'll find out when that wall goes away."
"You really think it will?"
The Complete Dilvish, The Damned Page 39
