The rafters went along carefully, staying out of the occasional patches of moonlight and crouching for long moments in shadow to peer into the dark recesses of the swamp around them. Through the trees, finally, glowing orange and yellow through the misty night, lantern-light could be seen through a window. It shone from within a stilted swamp hut with slat sides and a shingle roof, falling to bits from age and disrepair.
The lamplight reminded Jonathan a bit too much of the cabin in the forest near Stooton Slough, and he had a strong urge to ignore the whole business and be on his way. But the deviltry here was obvious. This was no odd goblin trap. A dozen or so of the things were cavorting within this ruined shanty. It occurred to Jonathan that they were ‘goblinizing’ it – a word the Professor would surely approve. All of the rafters watched silently from the shadow of an alder as goblins lurched out onto the porch of the cabin, hooted and gobbled and whacked at the railing and lurched back inside. They seemed to be holding some sort of a meeting, for twice in the space of five minutes small parties of goblins tramped in out of the shadows of the woods in a businesslike way. Once, with much hooting and blathering, a half dozen or so reeled out and down the wooden stairs and away through the swamp, one massive gnarled goblin hurling a tin of some nature after them.
A figure appeared shortly thereafter, outlined in the lamplit window. Jonathan could see that it sported one of Lonny Gosset’s caps, sidewise on its head. The thing cackled with laughter and dumped what must have been the contents of a silverware drawer out onto the roadway, for there was the clatter and clang of cutlery as the contents of the drawer fell together below. The sound, apparently, pleased the marauding goblins somehow, for something like a cheer rose from a number of goblins within the cabin. One of them stumbled out and down and retrieved the spilled silverware, then clambered back into the cabin and dumped the boxful out the window again.
There was the sound of breaking glass and a wild screech shortly after the cutlery had been dumped and hooted over for the third time, and then the sound of scuffling and wild gobbling. The lamplight wavered and swung for a moment, then crashed out as the lantern very obviously fell from wherever it stood, and broke. The darkness lasted a moment before a new orange and red light flickered up and began to climb up the walls inside. A rush of goblins stormed out onto the porch, down the stairs, and away into the swamp. Two goblins hurtled out in their wake, scratching and biting and both afire from head to foot. They rolled sizzling into a pool across the path, leaped up, and followed along behind their friends. The flames spread through the abandoned shanty as the rafters advanced along the path.
All in all it would have been an odd display had it not been goblins who were involved. Jonathan thought of stopping to attempt to put out the fire, but on close inspection the ramshackle structure was such a ruin that it would be no worse off burned to a heap of cinder than it was whole. So they let it smolder and burn and passed along out of the firelight back into the darkness of the swamp.
Soon after they had resumed their trek they began again to hear the baying of wolves, now before them, now behind, now up and away ahead of them as if from the rocky slopes of Hightower Ridge. Once or twice Jonathan caught a glimpse of red eyes off in the swamp and heard the stealthy pad of feet somewhere near. And once, not long before the end of the path through the swamp, the whole lot of them stopped in a bunch to stare at what seemed to be about a thousand tiny yellow eyes peering weirdly at them through the misty moonlight that covered a dark pool. It turned out they were eyes – the eyes of innumerable frogs, all heaped about in the crowded pool and silently watching in the darkness.
They only paused for a moment, then hurried along for another two or three minutes before the overhanging branches of the trees fell away behind and they found themselves beneath the cloud-dimmed sky looking up toward the rocky fastness of Hightower Ridge, the tower itself a monolithic pile of shadows beyond the crags above. They began to pick their way along the path that rose upward out of the misty air of the swamp, clinging to the shadows of the rocks and listening in slowly growing dread to the grim howling of wolves above and around them.
The moon seemed to Jonathan to be their one ally. He attempted to lighten his spirits by thinking that above them in the starry sky, elf galleons, if rumors were true, might well be casting wonderful nets into the seas of clouds and fishing for who-knew-what sorts of celestial jewels. He had an inkling, although it may have been nothing more than a rather deep hope, that from somewhere far above their movements were observed, that they weren’t as alone in the dark night as it seemed they were. He had an urge to shake the magical fish coins out of his bag and lay them out in the proper pattern just to be able to nod once or twice to the Moon Man. But the tower loomed above, and there was no time for magical coins or for wishing he were someplace else. Escargot grunted out the suggestion that they stop and reconnoiter, so they did. They slumped finally in the shadows of a little grove of trees where they had a reasonably clear view of the back and side of the castle.
It was built of great blocks of gray-black stone that had worn smooth over the centuries. Blue lichen and green and brown mosses splotched the walls, making for darker, shadowed patches against the dim surface. The tower itself pushed up out of the rocks of the ridge and thrust some four or five stories into the sky; light glowed through scattered windows. Somehow the dark height of the thing was chilling. It had such a somber, dismal look about it that even on the warmest spring days it would still be sunless and bleak. Chunks of stone appeared to have been broken away here and there as if the tower had been struck by lightning or shaken by an earthquake. Heavy vines twisted up the sides, but most of the vines were bare of leaves.
While they crouched in the trees, they listened to rustlings roundabout in the woods and to the baying of the wolves away up the ridge. Twice in the few long minutes they were there, gray wolves padded out of the forest and skulked along the edge of the castle, disappearing once again into the trees.
To the rear of the castle was a great window of dusty, leaded glass. Flickering light shone through onto the trees behind, and the light jumped and waved and glowed and dimmed – clearly firelight. From within came the sounds of gobbling and cackling and hooting and gonging, as if there were some sort of goblin revel in progress.
The rafters crept off through the shadows, pushing along toward the firelit window to have a look within. Pouring from a stone chimney along one rear wall was a mass of thick smoke accompanied by huge sparks and dark, shadowy forms and unsettling shapes. The smoke dissipated into the night air like steam, but the dim shadows that accompanied it fluttered and tumbled and seemed, finally, to fly off into the distances, some on what appeared to be great, slowly flapping wings, silhouetted against the night sky. The rafters found themselves, finally, behind the castle and on the steep edge of the rocky slope of the ridge. Below, the tops of the swamp trees thrust up through a blanket of fog that seemed to be rolling languorously up toward them from the morass below.
After lying still for a few moments and listening to the wolves, and then the silence, the company crept along toward the lighted window, flattening themselves against the stones of the tower. Through the dirty window they could see an immense hall with a high, trestle ceiling and with great carved pillars holding the whole thing up. Away to the right was a wide stairway, spiraling off toward the upper levels. Before them was a fireplace built of the same gigantic blocks of stone as the tower itself. The fire within glowed as if it had been burning for years on end.
There before the fire, stoking it with a long, dark poker, stood Selznak the Dwarf, his pipe in his mouth and his stick in his hand. His broad cap hung on a peg near a massive, barred door.
Jonathan was vaguely surprised to see that the Dwarf was bald on top, that he had sort of a ring of hair. It seemed to buck Jonathan up a bit actually, because he immediately wondered whether Selznak was self-conscious about his bald spot and whether, like Mayor Bastable, Selznak drank vinegar and rubbed
snake oil into his scalp in an effort to restore his hair. It was probably unlikely that he did, and it was astonishing that even magic and enchantment couldn’t restore hair.
Shouting and gibbering around him were a dozen goblins of varying shapes and sizes who waved vessels of drink – intoxicating drink from the look of it. Selznak put his poker down and fanned the flames by squeezing away at a great, suspended bellows until the fire leaped and roared. He bent down and grasped an armful of fuel from a pile of pale wood against the wall. He seemed to inspect each log before tossing it into the fire, and, as he did, Jonathan was horrified to see that what the Dwarf held was not wood at all, but long, bleached dry bones. Selznak stepped back and fanned the flames once again. Then he reached inside his cloak and produced a stoppered vial which he uncorked, sprinkling lime-colored powder into the fire. A greenish whoosh of flame arose like a cloud, disappearing up the chimney, and the fire abruptly died down to a mass of glowing embers. There, clacking and chattering in the midst of the fire was a hellish and jerking skeleton, dangling above the flames like a marionette. The thing danced and waved, and the goblins in the room became quiet and stood in wide wonder, seeming frightened of the thing themselves. Selznak pounded his stick three times on the stone floor, and the bobbing skeleton clattered out onto the hearth and jerked around in a little circle, its bottom jaw working spasmodically. It stopped, finally, when Selznak pounded once again on the stones, and it put its hands to its face and began to weep. It turned to face the window then peered out from between bony fingers and grinned.
Skeletons, to Jonathan, pretty much all looked alike, but he didn’t have to think long before he knew that he’d seen this one before, or at least that he’d seen one with similar emotions. He and the others watched in frozen horror as, step by slow step, the thing clattered toward them across the wide hall, now weeping, now chattering, now bursting into wild laughter as the goblins fell away before it.
A wild, piercing scream tore through the night not two feet from Jonathan’s ear. He leaped back, heart soaring, and fell over a long wooden bench, punching out once or twice at the empty air around him, hoping vainly to strike whatever demon it was that had shrieked into his ear at such a ghastly moment. But it had been no demon; it had been Dooly. And it was Dooly, who could be seen disappearing at a dead run back down the road toward the swamp.
25
Dancing Skeletons
The Professor pulled Jonathan upright, and they heard Escargot shout as his feet scrunched away down the road after Dooly, ‘It’s up to you, mates! I have to stop the lad!’
There wasn’t time to be mad or frightened or anything else, for the grisly skeleton clacked away at them through the window; and behind, stepping from the fire, was another. Selznak laughed like a demon and pounded his staff against the flags as he dusted the fire again with the contents of the vial. Jonathan, fighting an impulse to follow Escargot and leave the Professor to work things out for himself, grabbed hold of the bench he’d fallen over instead. The Professor, as if reading his mind, hoisted the other end, and they swung it once, twice, three times together and sent it smashing through the window, shattering the bony horror capering there.
There was the crash of breaking glass and wood and the clatter of white bones on the stone floor, followed by the wild ululations of mad goblins. The second skeleton wandered aimlessly, and whooshes of green flame from the fire heralded the issuance of others. Jonathan hefted his club and threatened the first goblin that hopped across to the shattered window toward him. The thing had no fear, however, and waving taloned claws and gnashing its teeth, it raced at him. So Jonathan smashed it across the side of its silly head and sent the thing sprawling through the rubble. The rest of the goblins went wild at the sight and raced about, working themselves up. Selznak seemed to think the whole thing monstrously funny, for he looked on gleefully, whacking away with his staff. The second skeleton completed one last turn about the hall, stopped, seemed to see Jonathan for the first time, and stepped jerkily along toward him.
The Professor, meanwhile, cranked away at the seeker. The whirl-gatherers twirled and the thing shook as if in the grip of some great force. As the Professor struggled to hold it, it burst from his hands and buzzed off through the open window, into the hall. Goblins fled shrieking in every direction, and even the grim skeleton hesitated and took a step back. Another bony image, wavering above the fire, rattled together and fell in a heap in the embers, the fire roaring up about it. It was as if everything within the hall had sensed that some nature of elf magic had penetrated the mist of evil and gloom.
Selznak stopped his thumping as the thing tore out of the Professor’s hands, more because of the change of atmosphere than because he knew what thing it was that was flying toward him like some squid-spawned bird. The seeker shot straight across the hall as if it had been called home at last and slammed smack into the forehead of the odious Selznak, pitching him over backward onto the ground. The seeker spun away, not played out by half, and angled across the hall in the general direction of the skeleton which reached out with one halting arm and clutched at it. The seeker sailed right on along, instigating a rain of finger bones, and left the skeleton waving a bony stump.
Selznak clambered to his feet, tangled in his robes and furious as the devil. He was reaching for his staff when the seeker buzzed down on him again, bonking him on the nose. He was astonished, no doubt, that such a marvelous and persistent weapon was, overall, so ineffectual, and when the seeker raced his way the third time he beat it to bits with his staff and kicked it against the wall. Two goblins rushed for the weapon, but when they grabbed it they fell back as if burned and let it lie there in a heap.
The Dwarf shook out a fold in his robe and when he did, the vial of powder he’d been sprinkling into the fire fell out and broke on the floor, the fine dust within blowing on the breeze that came through the open window into the heart of the flames. Whooshes of green sparks burst up the chimney, and first one, then another skull appeared, bobbing in the flames. Selznak tried, at first, to save some of the dust, but left off the effort, slammed his staff onto the floor, and shouted gobbled orders at the goblins standing roundabout and setting the whole lot of them into an uproar.
As he swung his club for the second time, it occurred to Jonathan that Selznak hadn’t much of a sense of humor when it was he who was appearing ridiculous. But Jonathan hadn’t time to think about it much, because before he could recover from his second, very effective swing, he was borne down by slavering, scratching goblins.
He fought and kicked and tossed goblins to and fro, but the things seemed to be made of rubber. Each time one would spin away against a wall or rebound from a thwack on the head, it simply sprung to its former wild state and sailed back in. It went well, all in all, for Jonathan and the Professor at first. Once the struggle was underway, it began to seem that about twice as many goblins as there were would be needed to accomplish the job. But just when Jonathan was taking heart, he heard a violent floor thumping. The struggling mass of them was quickly overshadowed by a tremendous bulking, hairy beast – nearly the size of a troll – a stooped thing, with arms half again as long as they should be; its knuckles nearly scraped along the ground. Aside from its tremendous size, it was a foolish-looking thing – a monster that looked as if it weren’t altogether sure it was one. As it stood there looking down at them, Jonathan heard the Professor whisper, as if in amazement, ‘The Beddlington Ape!’
It reached down and wrenched Jonathan’s club from his hand, scattering goblins in the process, and after a bit of hasty thought, Jonathan decided it best to just relax and play along. There seemed to be little use in struggling with the thing. A batch of goblins swarmed round again, and Jonathan and the Professor soon found themselves lifted bodily and borne among goblins into the interior of the hall.
Jonathan hoped that they’d created the diversion Escargot needed, because they’d accomplished little else beside mayhem. When he thought about it, he hoped Escarg
ot was still involved in the caper. But the more he considered it, the less sure he was that Escargot hadn’t given the venture up and slid away toward the river, expecting that he and the Professor, once involved, would have no choice but attempt to finish the job. Who could say?
After subduing Jonathan and Professor Wurzle, the goblins turned their attention on Ahab, who proved to be no easy beast to capture. He raced about the hall barking and nipping and managed to latch onto the pants of one goblin and drag him off bodily. Having no fear of bones of any sort, he bowled through the handless skeleton and knocked the befuddled thing into scrap, its grinning skull bouncing with a hollow thud to the floor. The goblin managed finally to pull himself loose and roll away shrieking.
Ahab, no doubt feeling outnumbered and finding himself pursued by the ape thing, dashed away up the stairway toward the upper reaches of the tower. A half dozen goblins set out after him, but Selznak whacked away at the floor with his stick, shouted strangely. Instead of pursuing Ahab, the goblins then dashed in a clump through the smashed window and set out around the tower toward the swamp. The Beddlington Ape watched them race away, poked a long finger into its ear for a moment, then shambled off after them. There was no way to say for sure, but it looked as if they were after Dooly. Following the skeleton incident, there was little doubt that Selznak knew all along of their approach to the castle, and so would, of course, want to account for Dooly. Jonathan hoped, when the goblins disappeared through the window, that it was only Dooly they went out after.
The Professor, Jonathan could see, was in a state. He was glaring roundabout himself as if itching to run mad and teach these filthy goblins a lesson. He was probably at an advantage over Jonathan, for he had a smaller regard for magic, evil or otherwise, than Jonathan, and so hadn’t quite as much fear of the Dwarf and his staff.
The Elfin Ship Page 30
