Castle Perilous

by John Dechancie

  Osmirik laughed mirthlessly. What a tawdry little world it was, that armies were moved by the machinations of a scheming witch, that by her wiles castles fell, and worlds ended.…

  He knew only he could stop her — physically, if that be the only way. He would sniff her out, her and her plots and philters, regain her confidence, make as if to assist her, and then —

  What? He would know only if and when that time came.

  Doubts gnawed. Was it inevitable? And what of the prophecies? He reached for another book and opened it, paged through it and found the passage. He read.

  And there shall come a time when men shall quake and tremble, and great tribulation shall befall the world, as in the days of antiquity, so shall it be on that fearful day, and he shall be unleashed who is hight the Great Beast, the Evil One, the Destroyer, and he shall darken the sun and spread his great wings against the wind, and it shall be visited upon the sons of men as it was visited upon their fathers, that they will flee and hide their heads and curse the day their mothers bore them.…

  Osmirik shook his head. And shall he, a mere scribe, stand alone against the ineluctable Word? His heart sank, and he knew he could not. But he must try. His eyes again fell to the page.

  But it shall not be dark always, and the hearts of men are not tacking in hope …

  Clumsy literalism, he noted. Better, The night will end, and hope shall live forever in the human breast, but no matter. He read on:

  … and there shall be one in those days, a true son of his father, Ervoldt, by whose might the beast may again be chained, but his troubles shall be great, and his heart will be heavy; neither will his house stand against the storm. His name shall be as blood.

  Ervoldt, the ancient Haplodite chieftain of legend, who tamed the demons of the earth and made them do his bidding. Osmirik reached for another volume, paged through till he came to the passage he had marked earlier:

  … and Ervoldt did all these things, and in the manner in which I have told them. And also did he magick the greatest of the beasts, Ramthonodox, and it was in this wise: he did [text missing] his freehold and his fortress, arid [its] windows were numbered one hundred and forty-four thousand, and of [its] rooms there were no end.

  He unspooled The Book of Demons again, and found a variant of the same passage, with the text restored:

  … and he did so in this wise: he did bespell the great beast, which was a demon, and tamed its wiles, and chained this beast to a great Stone, and wrought he a change such that it no longer took the aspect of a beast, but became a great house, which Ervoldt did make his freehold and his fortress …

  A third variant in yet another decaying book read much the same way. He dug the volume out and opened it — then closed the cover slowly. No, he would not go over it again. There was no mistake. He leaned back in the creaking wooden chair again.

  … And his name shall be as blood.

  Better, His name shall be as the color of blood is called.

  His name shall be Incarnadine.

  Suddenly, the floor began to vibrate. A faint high-pitched note sounded, accompanied by a deep rumbling. The nearby bookshelves rocked, and one small volume dislodged itself and fell.

  Slowly the sounds dissipated. Finally, it was quiet.

  Osmirik wondered. Melydia already at work? Incarnadine, perhaps. Or something else entirely. Likely the castle itself undergoing one of its sundry transformations.

  He rose and moved to the stairwell, descended, then crossed through the open stacks. Stepping through the anteroom, he opened the door, peered up and down the corridor, went out and closed the door behind him. He had to get his bearings. He now sought the Spell Stone, as did Melydia, but she had her ways and he had his. He sniffed the air. Books, still books — but many other things besides. What would the Stone “smell” like?

  A primordial smell, the dust of ages, the sulfurous smell of the fires that gave birth to the Cosmos itself …

  He had it. There were two overriding “odors” to this place, and they seemed to emanate from the same location. He strode off toward it.

  The Hall Of The Brain

  “Kwip, wake up. Are you okay?”

  Kwip’s eyes fluttered, then opened. He saw Linda’s face.

  “I’m not in Hell, then?”

  “Hell, no,” he heard Gene say.

  He sat up and looked about. Jacoby was eyeing him suspiciously.

  “What happened?” Kwip asked.

  “We were going to ask you that,” Gene said.

  Snowclaw dug a finger in his left ear. “My darn ears are still ringing.”

  “I think I’m going to be deaf for the rest of my life,” Linda said.

  “Huh?” Gene said.

  “I said, I think I’m going to be …Oh, be quiet.”

  Kwip got unsteadily to his feet. “I’m mystified,” he said. “I’d fetched my rucksack and was walking out again when I heard a hellish din.”

  “It came from this chamber,” Gene said. “It was unbearable where we were. I can’t imagine what it was like here.”

  “Aye. Fell into a swoon, I did. Thought I was dying.”

  “Are you hurt?”

  “Aside from feeling a mite shaken, I think not.”

  Gene pointed to the jewel. “Maybe it’s none of my business, but did you screw around with that thing?”

  “I’m not sure I take your meaning.”

  “What was the idea with the pickax?”

  “I thought it would be useful in climbing the rock. You seemed to have a bit of trouble up toward the top. But then I lost heart and put the thing in my rucksack to keep against an hour of need.”

  Gene shrugged. “Okay. As I said, it’s probably none of my business.”

  “No offense taken,” Kwip said with a forced smile.

  “Yeah. Well, if you’re okay, the first thing we have to do is —”

  “Gene, look.”

  “Huh?” Gene saw Linda pointing toward the door and spun around. About a half-dozen helmeted soldiers were already through the entrance, swords drawn. They weren’t castle Guardsmen.

  Kwip drew his shortsword and backed off. Gene unsheathed his broadsword and did the same, while Snowclaw advanced casually toward the edge of the circular stone floor.

  “There’s only a couple of ’em,” Snowclaw said, beckoning. “C’mon, guys.”

  Gene and Kwip exchanged glances, then stopped their retreat. Linda and Jacoby ran to get behind them.

  The soldiers had seen Snowclaw immediately, but were only now appreciating how big he was.

  “Whattayasay, soldier boys?” Snowclaw called. “How’s the chow in the army these days?”

  That slowed them up. One of them, presumably the leader, spoke.

  “You! Whoever or whatever you are, put down your weapon!”

  “Can’t hear you,” Snowclaw said. “Come closer.”

  The soldier advanced. “I said —”

  Snowclaw took a wicked practice cut. The broadax whistled through the still air. “What, this thing? I use it to cut my nails. Need yours trimmed?”

  Four of them reached bottom and fanned out. The leader and another soldier approached slowly.

  “All of you! Put down your weapons. Now!”

  “By what authority do you order us about?” Jacoby protested.

  “By the grace of His Royal Highness Vorn, Prince and Heir Apparent to the Siege of Hunra, Son of the Goddess-Empress, and Conqueror of the Western Dominions. You are his prisoners.”

  “Don’t be silly,” Snowclaw said. “You can’t take us prisoner.”

  The leader stopped. “Eh? Why not?”

  “ ’Cause you gonna die, hairless. Arrrrrrrrrauuuuuuughhhh!”

  Snowclaw’s charge was lightning fast. The soldiers who’d flanked him barely had time to react. The leader had none. Snowclaw decapitated him neatly, then turned on the noncom, who managed to escape the same fate by stumbling and falling at just the right time. The ax blade missed his skull by a hair’s
breadth. He scrambled away from Snowclaw’s follow-up, and by that time two of his comrades had arrived to back him up.

  For Gene the suddenness of Snowclaw’s attack was a shock, but when one of the two remaining soldiers came at him, he responded as best he could, though he could do little but clumsily parry his opponent’s expert attacks. It was all he could do to keep running backwards in a big circle.

  “Linda, help!”

  “What’ll I do?”

  “I don’t know! Something!”

  “But … but — Oh, wait. How about —”

  Gene backed into something hard and hit his head. He winced, looking around. He was inside a huge transparent bubble shaped like a bell jar. He reached out and touched the inner surface. It felt very hard.

  The soldier was momentarily nonplussed, but recovered and took a swing at the miraculous shield. The sword blade glanced off sharply and the weapon went flying out of his hand. He hurried to retrieve it.

  Gene saw that three other soldiers had come running through the doorway and were making their way down the stone terraces.

  “Linda, get me out of here!”

  Linda said something, but he couldn’t hear. He shouted and pounded against the inside of the jar. She got the idea, twitched her nose, and the bubble vanished just in time for Gene to fend off his opponent’s renewed attack.

  “A crossbow!” Gene yelled.

  “What?” By this time Jacoby had dragged Linda all the way back to the black rock.

  “I need a weapon! Gimmie a crossbow! Materialize it —” Gene ducked a vicious sideswipe. “Materialize it in my hands!”

  “What’s a crossbow?”

  “It looks like a bow and arrow but —” He ducked and backed. “Jacoby! Tell her what a crossbow is!”

  Instantaneously a crossbow lay cradled in his arms. “Yeah!” he shouted, backing off. The soldier saw what Gene had and broke off his attack.

  Gene examined the weapon he held. Although he saw that the bow was cocked and ready, he hadn’t the slightest idea of how a crossbow worked. His opponent realized this, and charged. Still backing away and wishing he’d asked for something different, Gene pointed the thing at him and frantically groped for a trigger or releasing mechanism. His hand found a curved wooden tab on the weapon’s underside. He pressed it. There was a twanging sound as the bowstring snapped. Gene looked up. A metal rod was growing out of the soldier’s throat. The man dropped his sword, choked and spat blood, then fell.

  Gene looked at the crossbow. Wicked, he thought, then wondered how the thing was cocked. He noticed a wide metal loop at the front, and it occurred to him that perhaps you were supposed to put your foot in that and somehow —

  He heard Linda scream and looked. One soldier held a knife to her throat, while a comrade had Jacoby pinned to the floor.

  A voice behind him: “Drop your weapon or your friends will die!”

  Gene let the crossbow clatter to the floor. He turned to look at the soldier who’d said it, discovering that the man hadn’t been speaking to him, but to Snowclaw.

  The great arctic beast stood near the headless bodies of two of Vorn’s infantrymen, his broadax raised high. Two more soldiers flanked him, swords drawn.

  “They will all die!” the first one shouted.

  “Snowclaw, you better do what they say,” Gene said. “You, too, Kwip.”

  Kwip dropped his sword.

  Snowclaw growled, then said, “Aw, Gene, we can take ’em.”

  “No way, Snowy.”

  Snowclaw snorted and threw down his mighty ax.

  The soldiers were looking toward the door. Gene turned and saw a woman in a bright orange gown slowly walking down the terraced slope. She held her arms straight out, each hand holding a long metal rod that pointed forward. Her line of sight was aligned intently between them.

  She reached the circular floor and walked past Snowclaw, oblivious to him and the mangled bodies. Arms folded, Snowclaw regarded her in puzzlement. She walked on, moving in the direction of the dark boulder. The rods began to vibrate violently. She took a few more steps, and then the rods flew from her hands.

  Gene ducked as they streaked by. He heard a clinking sound and looked toward the base of the rock. The two silver rods clung to the stone as if to a great magnet.

  “So,” the woman said. She stood regarding the rock, then elevated her gaze to the jewel atop it. “Of course … of course.”

  Presently her attention was drawn to Gene. She looked him up and down, then asked, “Who are you?”

  “The name’s Gene Ferraro.”

  “How did you find this chamber?”

  “Just wandered in. Why?”

  She did not answer, moving past him toward Linda and Jacoby. She looked the fat man over, then turned to Linda. “Are you a virgin?”

  “Huh?”

  “Have you known men?”

  “What kind of —”

  “Answer the question or it will go badly for you.”

  “It’s none of your darned business.”

  Melydia slapped her face. “I ask you again. Are you a virgin?”

  Linda was shocked, unbelieving. “No! Okay? No, I’m not.”

  “I thought not. Pity. A female is always preferable, but I suppose I can make do with the boy.” She turned and cast her eyes about the cathedral-like chamber. “I was beginning to think that there was no way into this room.” Frowning, she noticed the elevator door high in the wall. “That is most strange.”

  “Look, what do you want with us?” Gene said.

  She walked slowly back toward him. “What were you doing in this place?”

  “I already told you that. We’re lost. We want to go back to our own world. We were trying to find it.”

  “Odd, then, that you should be here in the Hall of the Brain.”

  “Is that what you call this cross between St. Peter’s and Madison Square Garden? As I said, we’re here by accident. You were right about this room not having a door. We had to create one to get in. We had no idea what was here.”

  “Indeed? And what of the disturbance we heard a while ago? Was that your doing?”

  “Not ours,” Gene said. “We were nearby when it happened, but we don’t know what it was or what caused it.”

  “I see.” Melydia turned and headed toward Snowclaw. “And what manner of hell-spawned beast is this?”

  “What’s it to you, lady?” Snowclaw answered.

  Melydia’s right hand came out from the folds of her gown and performed a few quick motions.

  Snowclaw howled and threw himself against the iron bars of the cage that had suddenly materialized around him.

  Melydia took a deep breath. “I surprise even myself. Ordinarily I would need an hour to bring forth an object of that size, but in this place …” Her eyes sought the ceiling. Her whisper came softly. “Incarnadine, thy fate is sealed!”

  “Move back!” one of the soldiers told Gene.

  Ten minutes later Gene, Kwip, Linda, and Jacoby were bound, hands behind them, but were free to walk. The soldiers had searched them for hidden weapons. They had rummaged through Kwip’s backpack and discovered dried meat and journey cake. They divvied it up and were now taking a meal break.

  Melydia drew one infantryman aside. “Take them wherever you wish, as long as it is away from this place. Do not wander far, as you might lose your way. Kill them all.”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  She went to the Stone.

  “Do you hear me?”

  I hear. You have found it.

  “I have found you as well.”

  Indeed? I sense your closeness.

  “Hear me. A while ago you underwent an unusual perturbation. Did you perceive it?”

  Yes.

  “Do you know what it was, or what caused it?”

  It was … a loss.

  “A loss? Of what?”

  A long silence, then: Alas, I cannot say.

  “Very well. It may not be important.”

 
I will soon be free.

  “You will. And you will remember your liberator, heed her, and do her bidding.”

  It is difficult to say. Only one has ever commanded me. His name is no longer in my memory.

  “Ervoldt commanded you.”

  A slight tremor vibrated the floor.

  I remember! I recall the day. It was he who put me here, in this place that is not a place. It was he who enthralled me.

  “Yes, and it is I who will set you free.”

  Family Residence

  There was nothing left to do but rest.

  He lay abed and pondered what might have caused the spasm of a short while ago. The castle periodically underwent minor convulsions, but that one had been different. He had never experienced its like. Try as he might, he could not convince himself that Melydia had been responsible, although her spell-casting might commence at any moment.

  He was loath to contact the voice, but decided it would have to be done.

  “Attend me,” he spoke.

  He was surprised when the voice did not respond within a reasonable time.

  “Attend me,” he commanded.

  I hear.

  “You did not come when summoned.”

  I was otherwise engaged.

  “How can this be possible?”

  Another speaks to me.

  “Indeed? This is unusual.”

  You are no longer the only one, son of Ervoldt.

  He laughed. “I see you are being well tutored.”

  I have forgotten many things. I must learn.

  “Why?”

  In order to regain my former existence.

  “Yes, of course. Enough of this. I wish to know the nature of the paroxysm you experienced a short while ago.”

  I do not know what it was. The other has also asked.

  His eyebrows rose. “I see. And what did you tell her?”

  What I told you.

  He nodded.

  Also …