"The battle is barely begun."
Her grip tightened upon his arm.
"But the trip may be ending. Look!"
She pointed ahead to a window through which a very pale sun-arch had appeared in a twilit sky.
She felt him stiffen. "Hurry!" he said.
At the next turning she glanced back and saw only a blank wall behind them.
Chapter 10
As Dilvish edged along the northeast periphery of the room, the tableau became clearer—the upset brazier, the dark design, the groping tentacle, the half-stripped girl upon the barrow, the faintly glowing prints of cloven hoofs…
He sheathed his blade as quietly as he could, feeling that it would be of little use against the possessor of such a member. Better to have both hands free, he decided as he moved forward quickly to take hold of the barrow's handles. The tip of the tentacle found the wheel at about the same time. He raised the barrow and drew it back. The tentacle slipped away. There came a thrashing in the waters below. He continued to back off.
Suddenly, a tentacle shot up to twice his height above the lip of the pit. Dilvish veered sharply to his left as he backed away. The tentacle fell with a great slapping sound upon the place he would have occupied had he continued in a straight line. It began to toss wildly about. He was soon out of range, however, and near the opening of the eastern passageway. He turned the wheelbarrow and headed up it. The splashing noises continued behind him.
It was only as he hurried away that he really had an opportunity to look at the barrow's occupant. He drew in his breath sharply and halted, lowering the conveyance, moving around to its front. Arlata's chest still rose and fell slowly. He closed her tunic, examined her face.
"Arlata?"
She did not stir. He repeated her name in a louder voice. There was no reaction. He slapped her lightly. Her head rolled to the side and remained there.
He returned to the vehicle's rear and began pushing again. The first room he came to was a storeroom full of tools. He went on, inspecting several others. The fourth was a linen room, heaped with folded curtains, blankets, coverlets, rugs, towels. A flash of red came and went behind its solitary small window as he pushed Arlata in and unfastened her bonds. He transferred her then to a pile of linens and unfolded a blanket to cover her.
Closing the door behind him, he turned up the hallway and stared. It became better illuminated before his eyes, all of the brightness emanating from just a few small windows. And in this increased light he saw again the cloven hoofmarks. He began to follow them and continued until his path intersected a carpeted hallway, where they vanished. For a moment he stood undecided. Then, shrugging, he turned to the left. The way seemed long and straight and bright before him, but then a peculiar thing occurred. The air shimmered, then darkened, about six paces ahead of him. A smoky coalescence followed. Suddenly, he faced a stone wall.
He laughed.
"All right," he said.
He did an about-face, then headed up the remaining branch of the hallway, checking as he moved whether his blade was loose in its sheath.
Odil, Hodgson, and Derkon glutted themselves in the pantry they had located.
"What the hell is that?" Derkon asked, pointing with a leg of mutton at the small skylight which was suddenly a blazing, brilliant red.
The others looked, then looked away as the red faded and the brightening continued.
"Are we on fire?" Odil wondered; and it ceased then and the dimness followed.
"More general, I think," Hodgson replied.
"I don't understand," said Odil.
"Everything outside seems to be happening countless times faster than it normally does."
"And we did it somehow—when we broke the maintenance spell?"
"I'd say."
"I thought it would just knock down a wall, or something like that."
Derkon laughed.
"But it would probably kill us to leave the place now! Strand us in a wasteland, deliver us to monsters—or worse…"
Derkon laughed again, tossed him a bottle.
"Here. You need a drink. You're beginning to get the picture."
Odil unstopped it and downed a mouthful.
Then, "What are we to do?" he asked. "If we can't get out of here—"
"Exactly. What's the alternative? Do you recall our original intention?"
Odil, who had been raising the bottle for another swallow, lowered it, eyes widening.
"Go to that thing and try to bind it? Just the three of us? The shape we're in?"
Hodgson nodded.
"Unless we can bring Vane to his senses—or locate Dilvish—it's just the three of us."
"What good will it do us now, even if we succeed?"
Hodgson dropped his eyes. Derkon made a growling sound.
"Maybe none at all," Derkon said. "But the Old One is the only thing in sight with the sort of power that might be able to reverse what is going on—to take us back."
"How will we do it?"
Derkon shrugged and looked at Hodgson as if for advice. When it was not forthcoming, he said, "Well, I was thinking that a modification—and combination—of several of the strongest binding spells I know—"
"They're for demons, aren't they?" Odil inquired. "That thing is no demon."
"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.
He would have sworn that a tiny bit of light reached him from the direction of the sitting room. But that was impossible. The Awful Saying would have dampened every light source.
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.
The Changing Land Page 18
