Gibrig pointed at himself animatedly, saying, “I be knowin’ just about every underground creature ye might find in eastern Fallacetine, but this be the west, and it be wild. Nothin’ be what it seems here on the other side o’ the Wall.”
They walked for a half hour down the wooden tracks, and at one point they came to an immense cavern through which the tracks twisted and turned, held up by large beams of hard-packed earth. The companions walked carefully along the tracks, knowing that if they lost their footing they would fall into the dark chasm below. But they all got across the open expanse in one piece, and soon the tracks led to another tunnel. After another ten minutes of travel, the tunnel began to glow, and a low and distant ruckus, like the random commotion of a bustling city, found their ears.
“Sounds like a city alright,” said Gibrig.
Sir Eldrick motioned for them all to halt. “Let me take a look. Wait here.”
He crept to the end of the tunnel, hugging the wall, and peeked out when he got to the opening. He came back quickly, and by the look on his face, he wasn’t happy with what he had found.
“What is it?” Brannon asked, unable to take the suspense.
“Blasted mole men,” said Sir Eldrick with disgust.
“Mole men?” said Gibrig. “They be real?”
“Aye, they’re real. And isn’t it just our luck to find ourselves smack dab in the middle of their city. Son of a bitch!”
“Ye think we can sneak through without bein’ seen?”
Sir Eldrick glanced at Willow. “No, Gib, I don’t think so. Unless Murland has an invisibility cloak or some such thing, we’re going to have to either turn back or try to gain leave to pass through.”
“Ye got a cloak like that?” Gibrig asked Murland.
“No, Gib. Nothing like that. But maybe Packy could come in handy.”
“What you got in mind?” Sir Eldrick asked, intrigued.
“Well, maybe he can fly us all through the city to the other side. Once we are all together again, we hightail it out of here,” said Murland.
“I like it. Anyone else have a better idea?” Sir Eldrick asked the group.
They all shook their heads.
“Alright then, I guess I’ll go first,” said Murland.
“Be careful,” said Sir Eldrick. “Fly high and try not to be seen. And make sure that you pick a spot that’s safe on the other side.”
“Got it.”
“Good luck, Murland,” said Gibrig, and the others offered their own well-wishes.
“Alright, Packy, let’s do this,” said Murland, walking toward the end of the tunnel.
He got to the end and looked both ways before taking three running steps and disappearing into the air.
The companions waited and listened. No commotion sounded nearby, no indication that Murland had been seen. After five minutes, and right before Sir Eldrick was about to go and investigate, Packy flew back into the tunnel and hovered beside him. The knight noticed a note pinned to the backpack, and he read it to the group.
“I’ve found a spot on the other side of the city that looks to be a way out. It’s dark in here, so be careful. Aside from the glowing mushrooms, the mole men have no light. The creatures do not appear to be armed, but there are thousands of them. Good luck.”
“Sounds scary,” said Gibrig. “But, ye sure them mole people aren’t nice?”
“They plan to someday take over the world and make everyone their slaves,” said Sir Eldrick. “No, Master Hogstead, they are not nice at all.”
Gibrig’s shoulders slouched, and the hope quickly disappeared from his face.
“Alright, your turn,” said Sir Eldrick, guiding Packy onto Gibrig’s shoulders. “You heard Murland. Be careful, and above all else, be quiet.”
“Got it,” said Gibrig with a look of grim determination. He crept down the hall, looked left and right like Murland had, and took off into the air.
Five minutes later, Packy returned. Sir Eldrick told Brannon to go next, and again the backpack returned without incident.
“Alright, Willow,” said Sir Eldrick.
“Nah, you go ahead first. Save Packy’s strength before she lugs my big ass across the city.”
Sir Eldrick gave a laugh and patted her on the shoulder. “If you say so. See you on the other side.”
“I’ll be right behind you,” she told him, and she watched as Packy brought him out of the tunnel.
Willow was curious about the mushrooms that Murland had mentioned, and so she crept quietly to the end of the tunnel and glanced around. The city turned out to be a collection of mounds with pathways snaking through the large cavern. Willow guessed that the real city lay below her feet. The ceiling was covered with multicolored glowing mushrooms that grew downward. About the size of a wagon wheel, the mushrooms gave off a soft greenish-blue glow that left no place for shadows to hide. She saw the moles coming in and out of their hills, sometimes walking upright and carrying mining equipment, or else hurrying on their way on all fours. They wore no clothes, but had metal helmets on their heads with little candles attached to the front brim.
Packy came gliding high over the city, keeping close to the mushrooms. Willow slunk deeper into the tunnel as the backpack came to hover beside her.
“You ready, Packy?” Willow asked.
The backpack gave no answer, but showed that it had heard her by doing a flip in the air.
“Alright,” said Willow, letting out the straps as far as they would go. The fit was tight, but she managed to squeeze Packy onto her back.
She took three running steps like the others had done, and leapt into the air. The backpack beat its wings frantically, and Willow rose a few feet before leveling out much too low. With greater effort, Packy strained and lifted her up toward the ceiling. Willow looked down at the oblivious moles and stuck her tongue out at them. She laughed to herself, enjoying the flight. Packy took her over the mole hills, which stretched many hundreds of yards across the cavern. On the other side of the hollow, Willow saw the others high up on a ledge beside another tunnel, and they were waving jubilantly.
She waved back, and the movement must have been too much for Packy’s strained seams, for there was a snap, and the next thing Willow knew, she was tumbling toward the ground. She gave a cry, and many of the moles at the bottom took notice of her. Packy flew to intercept her, and she grabbed at one of the fluttering straps. She missed and hit the top of a mole hill with a thud. Willow bounced and rolled down the side of the hill, taking out half a dozen moles that had been climbing up.
“Watch out!” she warned as she barreled toward a busy path at the bottom of a hill.
Moles leapt to get out of the way as she unraveled against the embankment to the next mole hill and finally stopped. Far in the distance, a horn blared.
Chapter 23
Guaka’Moley
“Shit!” said Sir Eldrick when he saw Willow falling.
“Oh no!” said Gibrig, much too loudly.
Brannon clapped his hand over the dwarf’s mouth and watched with the others as Willow hit, bounced, and tumbled out of view below. A horn sounded in the distance, and moles began pouring out of the hills.
“What are we gonna do?” said Gibrig, freeing himself from Brannon’s grip.
“Shh!” Sir Eldrick hissed. “The first thing we are going to do, is not panic.”
“Where is Packy going?” said Murland, for the backpack was not flying toward them, but away.
“It seems that the backpack is smarter than it looks. Unless I am mistaken, he is flying away from us so as not to give away our location. He will find his way back, I am sure of it. For now, we must worry about Willow.”
“Look!” said Gibrig, pointing. “She’s fighting them all!”
They all struggled to see past each other from the mouth of the cave they had found as Willow came into view. She was rushing up to the top of one of the hills, batting back any mole who got too close. But more poured out from the top, and they soon s
urrounded her.
“We should help,” said Murland.
“No,” said Sir Eldrick. “There are too many.”
“We can’t just let her be killed,” said Brannon, biting his thumbnail.
“I don’t think they will kill her, look.”
Willow was overcome by dozens of moles who piled on top of her and got her under control. She had sent many of them flying, and a good number of the moles lay about motionless, but in the end their numbers were too great for even the mighty ogre. When she came into view again, she was beaten and bloody, and her body was bound in what looked to be spider silk.
“Where they be taking her?” Gibrig asked.
“Into the real city,” said Sir Eldrick. “Come on, we need to make a plan.”
They followed him deeper into the tunnel, which looked to be an old mine shaft. It was in terrible disrepair, however, and looked to have not been traveled in years.
“Alright,” said Sir Eldrick, pacing the small chamber that they had stopped in, one where two other tunnels branched off from the main. “Murland, have you gotten anywhere with your scrying research?”
“I’ve read everything there is about it in Kazam’s spell book. I can give it a shot. It should be easier since Willow has no wards around her.”
“Great. In the meantime, Brannon, I want you to see if you can use your floral magic to try and make one of those mushrooms grow.”
“Why?”
“Because, we might need the distraction.”
“You want me to make them grow so big that they break from their stems,” Brannon realized. “Then they will fall down on the mole hills.”
“Precisely,” said Sir Eldrick.
“What do you want me to do?” Gibrig asked, eager as always to help out.
“I need you to keep a lookout at the end of the tunnel. If Packy returns, send him back here with us.”
“Yes sir,” said Gibrig before hustling to the tunnel entrance.
It took Murland the better part of an hour to prepare the scrying spell, for it required the enchantment of not only the bowl and the water, but also something from Willow’s person. Luckily, one of her hairs had gotten stuck around one of Brannon’s shiny buttons, likely after he fell on her. Murland enchanted the hair last and, carefully reciting the final incantation, dropped the hair into the bubbling bowl of glowing water. The colors swirled and blended, turning brown and then black, but then changing to gray and green. Brannon and Sir Eldrick gathered around, and together they watched as a scene slowly came into view. The image was choppy, but it was clearly Willow. She was tied to a large stone and still bound by the spider silk. She had been blindfolded, and by the light of the glowing mushrooms about the cavern, the companions could make out hundreds of moles. No sound was created by the image, but they could tell that the moles were chanting something in unison.
“Dammit, that is what I was afraid of,” said Sir Eldrick.
It took a lot of focus for Murland to keep the spell going, and when Sir Eldrick suddenly swore, the image wavered and disappeared.
“What happened?” said Brannon, straining to see something in the water.
Murland ignored him and turned to Sir Eldrick. “What’s wrong? What were you afraid of?”
Sir Eldrick let out a great sigh and rubbed his neck, obviously concerned. “I don’t know much about mole men. But I know that they have a god. They call him Guaka’Moley. They are also very superstitious, and are rumored to sacrifice trespassers to their god to placate him.”
“Sacrifice?” said Brannon, clutching his chest. “Oh, poor Willow.”
“We will not be letting that happen, believe me.”
“What’s your plan?” Murland asked.
“They will be trying to summon their god’s spirit for the ritual, so let’s give it to them.”
***
Willow strained against her bonds, but the spider silk seemed stronger than steel. She became quite frustrated with her struggle, and she cursed the moles through the gag in her mouth.
“Quiet the prisoner!” said the only mole wearing clothes.
One of the guarding moles hit her in the back of the head with a metal shovel, which bent against her thick skull.
“I’m gonna whack every one of you moles when I get out of here!” she tried to say, but with the gag in her mouth, all that came out was garbled nonsense.
“Prepare the alter! Conjure the god of gods, Guaka’Moley!” said the robed mole man, who looked to Willow like some kind of witch doctor. By the white film covering his eyes, Willow assumed him to be blind; however, he seemed to have no trouble getting around. He wore a conglomeration of chains that clinked and clanked with his every movement. Numerous sacks and pouches adorned his body, and from one of them he took a handful of dust and tossed it into the fire, which flared bright blue and green.
The gathered moles gave a collective gasp and scurried around, climbing over their earthen seats and bumping into one another, only to return to where they were and do it again as the witch doctor tossed another handful into the fire.
A stone slab was brought and placed beside the fire, and Willow was taken from the post she was tied to and laid down upon it.
The witch doctor tore the gag from her mouth and threw it into the fire as well.
“When I get ahold of you, you nannywiggins, I’m gonna—”
“Silence!” said the old mole in a nasal voice and then bonked her on the head with his cane.
“Ouch!”
“I said silence!”
“You know, I was just gonna bonk you, but now I’m going to break that cane over your ass as well,” said Willow.
Another smack to the head made her nostrils flare, but this time she kept her mouth shut. She scanned the chamber, wondering how she was going to get out of this one. She thought that perhaps the others had seen her fall. Surely, they would come for her. She took a tally of the moles in attendance as the witch doctor began to ramble on about the mole god, but she stopped counting at one hundred. They weren’t very well armed, which was a plus, but they did have shovels and pick-axes, and they were fast despite their squat appearance, and then there were the large front teeth…
“Guaka’Moley, oh great lord of lords, he who burrows through the world, he whose tunnels have no end, he of the silver shovel and golden pick, HEARME!” bellowed the witch doctor.
Willow was a firm believer in the Great Turtle, but she also acknowledged that the world was full of gods. Hers was the greatest, of course, still, she respected them all. This Guaka character seemed peaceful enough, and she began to wonder what kind of ritual was being performed. And she began to get excited at the thought of the mole god actually showing up.
“Say, you mind untying me? I think this spider silk is giving me a rash,” she said to the chanting witch doctor, but of course he ignored her.
“Oh, great Guaka’Moley, let this sacrifice be a testament to our—”
“Hey now!” said Willow, not liking the sound of that one bit. “I didn’t agree to being no sacrifice.”
The witch doctor hissed at her and blew dust in her face, getting it right in her eyes.
“Who has called me to the mortal realm!” came a booming voice, one that shook the altar beneath her.
The moles all gave a cry of shock and alarm, and Willow strained to see who had appeared. Her eyes watered terribly from the dust, and she barely made out a looming figure on the other side of the fire.
“It’s him!” said a mole in the crowd.
“It’s Guaka’Moley!” shouted another.
“Oh, great and venerable Guaka’Moley!” said the witch doctor. “I, Brizbarn, have summoned you. And you have come!”
“I have answered your call. Now, what do you want!” said the looming figure in a voice like an earthquake.
Willow’s eyes cleared enough for her to make out the figure, and she gasped when he stepped into the light. The god of moles stood at least eight feet tall and was covered in moss
and dirt and mushrooms from head to toe. His face was dark beneath a low-drawn hood, and in his hand he held a wand, one that looked oddly familiar.
“I have summoned you to bear witness to our sacrifice,” said the witch doctor. “Look what a grand beast we have procured for you. An ogre from distant swamps.”
“Ogre?” said Guaka’Moley with disgust. “I do not want an ogre sacrificed to me!”
“You don’t?” said the witch doctor, sounding unsure of himself.
“Of course not. But I will take her alive. For her screams shall echo through my tunnels for all of eternity!”
Willow didn’t like the sound of that one bit, and she began to struggle against her bondage with renewed vigor.
“You have done well, er, Briz…Brizbarn. Yes, you have done well indeed. Now, unbind the prisoner.”
“You want us to let her go?” said one of the moles, and Brizbarn shot a scowl in his direction.
“Do not question the great and powerful Guaka’Moley!” said the looming god, and fire erupted from the wand in his hand. It leapt out in a wide swath, going just above the gathered moles’ heads.
“Do what he says, for...his sake!” said Brizbarn.
A sharp dagger was run down Willow’s side none too gently, and she felt it cut into her arm a bit, but she wasn’t about to complain. She waited patiently as the spider silk encasement was pulled aside before exploding off the mantle, grabbing Brizbarn’s cane, and whacking him on the backside with it.
“Willow!” said the mole god. “Come with me!” the voice sounded urgent, needy, and Willow scoffed with disgust.
“Back off! I know the Great Turtle personally,” she told him, “and he has given me his blessing. So just back off, or you will incur his wrath!”
Willow grabbed a shovel from one of the nearby moles and chucked it at Guaka’Moley, hitting him in the head. He gave a satisfying “oof!” and to Willow’s delight, his head and shoulders fell backward off his body.
But when she saw Murland tumble to the ground, she became confused. Willow looked to the body, and saw Brannon there beneath the cover of moss and dirt.
The Legend of Drak'Noir Page 16
