Beyond the Moons

by David Cook

  “Revealed will be, if cloak human meat has,” the overmaster hissed softly so that Teldin, as groggy as he was, had to strain to hear the words. “Cloak protect meat it will, certain I am. Cloakmaster it will let die not and then know I will.”

  M’phei looked hungrily toward Teldin. “Eating this one I hoped,” it said plaintively.

  “Other meat will be. Rich in meat this world is,” the overmaster curtly announced. “With me to feeding you come – as my guest.” There was no warmth in the overmaster’s voice, only the cold calculation of keeping an enemy close in its sight. Teldin, still listening, doubted these creatures knew any love or charity. “Time it is. Lordservant – to the pit.”

  The overmaster’s umber hulk carried the neogi through the ship’s corridors. Teldin’s guard pushed the staggering human along behind, while M’phei brought up the rear. This time the route was well lighted, which the yeoman could only assume was to honor the overmaster. The group went down a deck, other neogi gradually falling in behind. Teldin noticed a few non-neogi cowering in the corners as the overmaster went past. These were a smattering of humans, gnomes, and elves, watching from the shadows with a haunted look in their eyes. Teldin could clearly see the elaborate tattoo each bore on his shoulder, marking the poor soul as neogi property.

  Finally the group reached an improvised pen in the middle of the cargo hold. It was enclosed by solid walls mote than fifteen feet high, which were braced with a motley assembly of beams, as if to hold back some great pressure. A narrow gallery circled the top of the walls and was reached by reinforced stairs.

  “Wait,” the overmaster ordered the prisoner’s guard. The umber hulk clicked its huge pincers in understanding. While Teldin stood on the deck, slowly trying to regain his strength, the lordservants hoisted their neogi masters up to the balcony, since it was clear that the small catwalk would never support the huge slaves.

  The balcony quickly became clustered with neogi, their bodies tattooed in a variety of ways and colors. Here the overmaster was clearly supreme, the other neogi keeping a respectful distance from where it stood. Only M’phei was close by, glaring hatefully whenever the overmaster’s attention was elsewhere.

  At last the neogi overmaster gave the signal for Teldin to be brought up. The brown-plated umber hulk prodded Teldin up the strengthened stairs, staying close behind him. Once on the catwalk, the umber hulk pushed Teldin toward the edge of the pit. At the far corners, several neogi hung lanterns on poles and swung these out over the void.

  The bobbing lights filled the pen with shadowy shapes, some real, others only brief interplays of light and dark. Teldin sensed danger and resisted the umber hulk’s prodding as he desperately scanned the shadows for the source of his fears. His vigilance was rewarded when a bloated, dark bulk slowly twisted and heaved across the floor. Moving into the fitful light, the dark blob metamorphosed into a grotesque parody of the vile neogi. Where the overmaster and the others were small, no larger than a strong dog, the thing in the pit was immense. The bulk of it was a shuddering mass about the size of a wagon or more, the flesh falling in thick, sagging folds. Its dull white skin was covered by overstretched tattoos and a network of purple veins. It had the appearance of a gigantic maggot. The body shuddered and heaved as the creature turned its head toward Teldin. There was the face of a neogi, all evil eyes and ravenous teeth, but the neck was buried in the folds of fat. Tiny, shriveled hands protruded from the ball of flesh, and the eight legs that gave the neogi its distinctive spidery appearance were nothing but atrophied stumps. The yrthni-ma’adi, the great old master, struggled to climb up the sides of the pit with labored breath, only to slide slowly back to the deck.

  Teldin pushed against the umber hulk’s claws that forced him forward, but, weakened as he was, the human slowly lost ground. Two toes slipped over the edge. A hissing chant rose from the neogi, eager for the specatacle to begin.

  “Stop!” the overmaster snapped, striking the umber hulk to convey the command. “On platform him you put.”

  “Yes, little master,” the lordservant intoned. With pressure behind him gone, Teldin quickly stepped back from the edge.

  “Cloak you produce,” the overmaster demanded of Teldin, “before to yrthni-ma’adi I feed you.” The overmaster pointed to the thing in the pit. “My quastoth once it was, before too old and feeble it became. Now, more quastoth for me it will breed.” The overmaster was interrupted by a grating scream from the creature below. “Your flesh my children hunger for. Tell me!”

  Teldin’s body trembled, not with fear or exhaustion, but with hysterical rage at his captors. His death was certain, the farmer felt, so it did not matter what he did now. “You’ll never find the cloak,” he prophesized, abandoning all denials. Teldin spat at the overmaster’s face, causing the creature to lunge forward, snapping with rage. The sharp teeth brushed at the cloth of Teldin’s pants. Barely recovering its composure, the overmaster wheeled to its lordservant.

  “Out set it!” raged the overmaster. “Out set the meat! Watch it die I will and cloak I then will find.”

  The umber hulk seized Teldin, pinioned his arms to his side, and swung the human out over the edge. The great old master flowed underneath Teldin, the little head lunging and snapping up at his dangling feet. Set for the end, Teldin awaited the inevitable drop.

  To the farmer’s surprise, the umber hulk, with its arms fully extended, carefully lowered Teldin onto a small wooden platform about the size of a flagstone. Teldin wobbled before finally gaining his balance. The platform was set atop a pole in the center of the pit, just tall enough to be out of the yrthni-ma’adi’s jaws. This cleverly made sitting impossible, since the creature would then be within reach. Teldin could only remain safe as long as he stood and kept his balance. The creature, knowing this, waited patiently below.

  “Until it falls,” called out the overmaster from his seat of honor, “meat remains and to their duties my quastoth will return. With me M’phei will stay.” The other neogi grumbled, envious of the honor shown M’phei, but they slowly left the balcony.

  From his perch, Teldin watched them leave. The human felt as if he were floating in space, so precariously balanced was he. The overmaster watched and waited eagerly. Weak from his tortures, Teldin fought to control the muscle spasms that seized his legs and back. Memories of the pain ached through his joints; exhaustion floated into his muscles. “Fall meat will,” the overmaster intoned just as Teldin wavered, struggled to regain his footing, wobbled some more, and finally brought himself back to stability.

  Time passed and Teldin somehow managed to remain on the platform. The overmaster watched Teldin constantly, waiting patiently for what the neogi knew must come. Below, the yrthni-ma’adi sat motionless, though now and then its skin rippled and surged, as if something moved just beneath its surface.

  Finally, it happened. Teldin’s eyes closed a little too long and suddenly he was falling.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Teldin hit the fleshy form beneath him with a glancing blow, bounced off onto the open floor, and sprawled into the dirt. The yrthni-ma’adi gave a scream of raw desire and surged toward Teldin in a flowing mass. As the human struggled to his knees, his mind filled with panic and he felt something soft brush the back of his legs.

  From above the farmer could hear the overmaster let loose an exultant cry. “Shown itself cloak has!”

  “Damn cloak!” Teldin gasped as he dove to the side, dodging the giant, maggotish old master’s lunge. The cloth billowed behind him, just missing being caught in the bloated neogi’s jaws. The creature hit the wall with a resounding thud, shaking the overmaster on the platform above. With a screech of pain, the yrthni-ma’adi hauled its bulk around for another attack. Teldin scrambled backward and warily circled away from the creature, trying to keep the small pole of his former perch between them.

  The human had no idea how long he had been playing this game of lunge and dodge, nor any idea how much longer he could keep it up. Each breath w
as a searing gasp of pain. His side was on fire, and the wounds on his chest were bleeding again. With each lunge, the weakened farmer moved a little slower and the jaws of the yrthni-ma’adi snapped a little closer.

  “Human meat,” taunted the overmaster from above, “soon kinsman avoid not. Your flesh he will eat. Then cloak I will take and most powerful overmaster I will be.”

  Teldin risked a glance up at the eel-like little face that peered from the darkness. “Why don’t you come down and get it, you monster?” he defiantly breathed. The bloated creature moved in the corner of his eye, and the exhausted yeoman shuffled left, keeping the pole between the two.

  “Wait I will, meat. Much longer it will be not,” the neogi’s voice echoed back. “Wise that is.”

  Before Teldin could answer, the heaving bulk lunged again, this time straight across the center, ignoring the pole. The light timber snapped like a dry twig under the beast’s hurtling mass. The human dove out of the way, wincing as his already pummeled shoulder smashed into the wall. With a screech of frustration, the swollen neogi lunged again with lightning speed. The cloakmaster rolled across the ground and barely managed to get his body clear before the sluglike form crashed into the wall where he had been. A crack of wood echoed through the hold and the walls of the pen trembled. Above, the two neogi, the overmaster and M’phei, clung fearfully to their perches.

  Teldin scrambled to his feet before the yrthni-ma’adi recovered, rapping his knuckles against the broken pole. Not daring to take his eyes off the creature, he groped frantically until his fingers closed on the shaft. The farmer awkwardly hefted it, turning the jagged broken end toward the beast. The pole made a long and clumsy spear, but it was better than no weapon at all, and with it Teldin could jab at the bloated form as Gomja had taught him, trying to keep the creature at bay.

  Surprised by this sudden counterattack, the beast slowly gave way. Teldin drove it back, until the yrthni-ma’adi crouched along the wall opposite him, feinting first to the left, then right, while the human inexpertly parried each move. Just finishing a thrust to the right, the farmer noticed a crack in the wall alongside him. It was where the beast had crashed before, apparently with enough force to splinter the pen’s wooden planking.

  The jagged line became a chance in Teldin’s mind as he formulated a plan for escape. Feigning exhaustion, he let the pole drop slightly. The great old master lunged forward, only to be brought to a halt as the lanky yeoman snapped the tip up in its path. Quivering with rage, the creature heaved back toward its wall and renewed its lunges and feints with increased intensity, gurgling in frustration. Teldin kept toying with it, driving the beast to even more frantic attempts.

  Suddenly the distended creature lunged forward in earnest. Teldin was not ready to put his plan into action, but when he thrust the pole, the great old master was not deterred. The beast hit the shaft squarely; the wood pierced the fleshy body with a squishy pop. The pole was torn from Teldin’s grasp and skidded across the deck until it jammed against the wall. The great old master bore down upon the spar, forcing the wood to twist and bend. The beast’s pallid, baggy skin tore open in a great rent, oozing yellowish ichor. Squealing and grunting in half-formed speech, the swollen freak flailed madly, crashing against the pen. The farmer dodged aside, narrowly avoiding pole and flesh as the enraged monster slammed from wall to wall. Abruptly the great old master sagged in a quivering heap, mouthing whimpering moans as its body gurgled and heaved.

  “My unborn kin-slaves! My children you hurt, human meat!” the overmaster screamed from overhead. The golden-skinned neogi scrambled forward and peered over the edge, looking down at its freakish progenitor, then glared at the stumbling human. “You great old master slowly eats! Look what you have done.” The malevolent spider-eel waved a claw toward the injured grotesquery.

  Teldin turned to look, attracted by a sucking, tearing noise that came from the beast. This was not the monster’s mewling, but the sound of flesh slowly pulling apart. In the dim light, the human saw the oozing wound from his spear heave, wiggle, then part. A squirming, wormlike shape, about as thick as the farmer’s muscular thigh, protruded from the gash. It thrust about, then fell to the deck with a soft, wet plop. Another followed, then a third; on the floor they looked like segmented and slime-covered maggots of obscene size. Even in this larval stage, Teldin could see the needlelike teeth and snakelike heads of tiny neogi. The worms writhed and weakly bit anything their blind faces touched, in venomous imitation of their elders. Repulsed, Teldin watched in unmoving horror. The deformed parent, perhaps sensing the man’s shock, sprang forward at the farmer, launching its bloated body with astounding might. At first unaware of the attack, Teldin barely tore his attention from the vile offspring in time. The farmer pitched to the deck, and the flaccid mass brushed over his back. Ichor from the wound dribbled across him and Teldin barely rolled clear of the crushing weight.

  There was a shearing crack mixed with a shrill scream as the bloated neogi rammed into the splintered wall, sending a shock wave through the corpulent mass. The creature’s head and tiny chest were mashed to a pulp, mingled with the shattered boards. The cage wall buckled outward, and the braces snapped with thunder-clap cracks. The balcony swayed and crashed to the deck in a rain of wood, followed by the boards of the walls.

  The yrthni-ma’adi gave a single bellow, gurgling through its broken face while bubbling up yellowish ichor. The huge body flailed and thrashed, widening the breach. Teldin staggered warily toward the opening, keeping clear of the heaving flesh. New wounds oozed on the creature’s sides, spewing more of the mucous-covered hatchlings through its gaping cuts. The slime-coated maggots instinctively wriggled for safety. Teldin winced in pain as one of the little monsters seized his ankle in its razor-sharp teeth. With savage desperation, the farmer kicked the creature free, smashing its soft body against the wall. The limp carcass was immediately set upon by others of its kind, tearing and fighting over the newborn flesh.

  Fortunately for Teldin, there was no time to stop and think. The parent monster had stopped its writhing, though the body was still shaken by convulsions. “Meat! My kin-slaves meat kill!” shrilled the overmaster as it clung to its swaying perch on the opposite wall. Teldin didn’t wait to hear more. Invigorated by the chance for freedom, he leaped over the old master’s shuddering corpse.

  He landed on the deck outside the pen, but slipped in a jumble of broken wood and sticky ichor and skidded across the floor, adding just one more agony to his throbbing body. The bloodied human regained his balance, snatched up a fallen lantern, and ran toward what he hoped was the companionway to the ship’s upper deck.

  There was a crashing noise behind Teldin, a grinding of wood and metal. He risked a glance over his shoulder to see the lantern lights over the pen bob, wave, then sink toward the floor. With one wall collapsed, the whole structure leisurely fell in upon itself. Teldin couldn’t tell if the neogi overmaster rode his perch to destruction or if the hateful little creature had managed to escape. He was not about to go back and check.

  The doors to the ship’s hold loomed ahead. Teldin stopped, afraid to go forward but knowing there was nothing but pain behind him. The air in the gloomy chamber felt stifling and close while the noise of the collapse echoed furiously in the cavernous hold. The farmer was certain the racket could be heard throughout the ship, certain it would put the neogi on alert.

  The hollow grating of claws against metal roused the numbed fugitive to action. The overmaster’s sibilant voice whispered in the distance. The words were unclear, but the relentless tread of the neogi’s lordservant was perfectly heard. Teldin shuttered his lantern so that only a little glow appeared, then he plunged through the doorway and into the hall. He headed left and broke into a loping run, ignoring the pain in his legs and the blood running down his sides. Incongruously, the cloak fluttered out behind him. Teldin cursed it as he ran; it had done nothing to save him and, instead, had brought him closer to death.

  The cloakmaster
rounded a bend in the corridor and was rewarded with the sight of a ladder leading to an upper deck. He blindly grasped it and clambered up. Below, the umber hulk’s clicking toenails faded in the distance.

  At the top of the ladder, Teldin poked his head through the hatch. The next deck was dark, so the human hung on the rungs, listening as long as he dared, but there was no sound from the blackness. He hoisted the lantern up and carefully opened a shutter to let a beam of light play over the floor. The landing was empty, so Teldin sprawled on the cold metal deck, waiting to catch his breath.

  It was only after he had stopped panting that the cloakmaster was ready to move again. The overmaster’s umber hulk would soon regain the trail, and the longer Teldin stayed here, the sooner it, or another, would find him. Still, he was puzzled by the fact that he had not met another neogi during his flight. It seemed all the more surprising after the pandemonium his escape had created. The ship was too quiet, as if it had been deserted. Partly curious – but mostly running on survival instincts – Teldin took up his lantern and cautiously began exploring again.

  The farmer left the landing and was struck by a feeling of familiarity. He checked one of the rooms by pulling open the heavy metal portal and letting the lantern shine in. The beam played over a blood-crusted table.

  Panic rose from Teldin ‘s core and grabbed hold of his gut. He slammed the door shut and fell against it, his body seized by uncontrollable shivers so strong that the lantern jiggled and wavered, throwing wild, leaping shadows all around. The farmer-turned-cloakmaster fought to drive away the fear that transformed the leaping shapes into hideous tormentors.

  A deep boom, followed by a shudder through the deck, passed unnoticed by Teldin. A second explosion and a third caused no more reaction from the human, but the noises had not gone unnoticed elsewhere. Voices and the hammering of running feet came from the aft, and Teldin realized with apprehension that the ship was not deserted.