by John Shirley
Sunlight was a weird green-blue this close to the king’s wall, as if it had to filter its way through all the malignity of the star stones. They walked a thin ridge of land that rose like a lizard’s spine above the muddy valley to the left. They felt exposed on the road, but things in the half-shadowed hollows were worse.
The halflings’ footfalls were silent enough not to attract the attention of most creatures, though Bab worried about noise from Coran. He wore tall boots with thick leather soles that scraped and tonked against the gravel and stones underfoot. Bab had to restrain himself from turning around and hissing “Shh!” at the enchanter.
He spared a thought now and again for Legg. He hoped the older halfling was alive. What bad luck that Mordint had been in the Crossroads unknown to them and still angry! If they’d known, they could have returned the stone to him there. Now the advantage belonged to the earth wizard. They would have to meet him on his own ground. Bab feared the encounter, but it was more necessary than ever, to free his old friend.
Mordint’s stronghold was still a couple of days ahead of them. Instead of the month it had taken them wandering the rift to find a star stone exposed enough to reach, this time they knew just where they were going.
To be fair, they had thought at first the lair was abandoned. Coran’s fourth attempt at a finding charm said that a stone was to be found a hundred yards off the main path to the north, along a faint uphill trail in the sparse grass occupied mostly by clattering, bronze-shelled centipedes the length of a halfling’s body, and brown snails as large as Bab’s fist. The entrance was a U-shaped gap underneath spiny, blue-green undergrowth cascading down the north cliff face of the trench that the descending star stone had dug on its way from the heavens. The cavern smelled horrible enough that no one wanted to be the first to go in, but the urgency of the pointing spell said the stone was a powerful one. Their greed—yes, greed—made them brave the stench.
Bab wasn’t sure what he had expected, but what they saw was nowhere near his imaginings. The vast room in which they found themselves soared at least ten man-heights to a colorful dome filled with light. In the center of the room, a carved fountain played, its bowls overflowing onto the mucky floor. His halfling sense of what made a good home site told him it must have begun as a true cave, a bubble in stone, but it had been worked into a marvel by who-knew-how-many pairs of hands. The shining gray-and-black streaked walls had been slagged into glass by the passing meteor, but the craftsmen who had followed etched out pillars and statues ornamented with carved swags, vines, and leaves.
Between the wall’s decorations were mystic-looking emblems that none of them, not even Coran, could identify. Gems were set into the glass, but the pillars would have to have been demolished to remove them. It looked as though thieves had tried in the past, leaving scratches on the fine carvings but succeeding in dislodging not one stone.
The thick layers of green mold encrusting the walls and the ankle-thick mud on the floor showed that no one had likely inhabited the building for years except the animals they found there, like more of the giant centipedes that scuttled everywhere, including up the walls and along the ceiling, and enormous bull-headed frogs whose deep voices echoed off the mosaic vault above. Other things, including lost or forgotten treasures, may have been buried in the muck on the floor. Either way, it stank too much for any of them to want to root around and find them.
The charm indicated the stone they wanted was below them. Scorri scouted for a way, and led them to a place where the floor sloped precipitously downward. A marvelously ornate twisted post formed into the shape of a crouching man with a blocky head stood sentry at the top of the ramp. It had to be a staircase. Deep mud concealed the risers. Bab drew his sword and led the way, squelching through the slime.
When he touched the stair rail, the place came to life, literally.
Bab shook his head in disbelief at the memory. The manshaped newel post had risen up, creaking and shedding dust. Its eyes burst into red flame. They lit upon the halflings. The stone man came toward them, swinging its arms. Bab had jumped back. The creature’s fists slammed down on the stair where he had been standing only a second before. The companions ran down the flight, only to find the match of the stone man at the bottom, rising from the second post. Out of carvings along the walls came more men. Bab snatched the hammer off his back and pounded down on the nearest statue’s foot. It cracked. The creature teetered over, still grabbing for him as it fell.
Bab and the others ducked and leaped to stay out of their way. It wasn’t too hard; the stone men were clumsy and slow moving, but they were inexorable. Coran threw one enchantment after another trying to break the charm that gave them life, but it was just beyond his talents. Sometimes they paused, but always they came on. It was all Legg and Milner could do to keep them off the diminutive half-elf. They fled blindly into the darkness.
Slim, agile Dimon was a genius at lighting a lantern on the run. He had a flame going before they had gone a dozen yards. Bab almost wished he hadn’t. The yellow light picked out pairs of multi-faceted eyes by the score. He called for the party to get into formation around Coran. Putting all of his power into his huge hammer, he swung into the midst of the enormous spiders, sending bodies and limbs flying.
They fought hard, slamming doors behind them, but always found more beasts and perils beyond. Adda noticed a loose stone in the floor before anyone else, keeping them from plummeting into a hollow shaft that seemed to descend to the center of the earth. Each of them leaped across the gap in turn. That was when Dimon ran into a web stretched across the corridor. They were cutting him loose when the master of the house turned up.
Bab’s heart had almost stopped in his body. No mistaking a master wizard. The tall, austere man with the long, gray mustache arrived surrounded by a wreath of green light—and a stench that could kill a pig at a hundred paces. Bab didn’t think anything alive could smell so bad, not even an orc—especially not a human. Mordint—they didn’t find out his name until later—stank like a midden heap gone horribly bad. No wonder he lived as alone as possible, leagues away from civilization. He pointed his fingers, and lightning roared toward them. Coran got his wits together in time, though not fast enough to save Dimon. Bab still shuddered to recall his horrible death.
They fought in and out of doors that seemed to open on different rooms every time one ran through them. Bab remembered lots of shouting, especially by Coran trying to get them all back in one place. At last the half-elf got them together in a protective bubble, but not in safety.
The tall wizard had his beasts herd them toward the end of a long room lit by torches. Stone columns threw great shadows toward them like sinister fingers. Tied to one pillar by the wall was the remains of … Bab didn’t like to guess what, or who. The manic laughter that arose seemingly from the walls chilled his blood. Then came the slap of damp, narrow feelers against their bodies like a combination of wet vines and dog tongues. One wound around Bab’s neck, making him jump and shiver. He struck out at the thing he could not see, and felt the trailer slither downward and detach from his skin. The creatures could be killed! With a war cry, he rallied his companions to defend themselves.
He swung his grandfather’s hammer, feeling it connect with invisible flesh. No matter how many of the invisible beasts Bab slew, more were behind them. Coran’s magic was overwhelmed. The little enchanter went down and was held by things no one could see. Bab fought to help him.
Suddenly he was no longer in the midst of the beasts, but up against a pillar of stone. The evil wizard had swept him up by magic, and put him just where he didn’t want to be. Legg appeared beside him, his sword arm plastered across his body as if he had just delivered a blow.
Before they knew it, five of them were against the columns, and tied there by magical bonds. The wizard began to chant. Bab and the others were once again crowded by the unseen creatures, all laughing and hooting in their ears. The carved stone dug into his back as he recoiled from the
m. His feet were engulfed by wet creepers. More lapped at his face. He was overcome with trembling dread. The wizard’s chanting reached a crescendo.
In the midst of a thunderous pronouncement, Mordint went silent. Bab stopped struggling for a moment to look up in disbelief. The tall wizard’s eyes rolled up in his filthy face. He toppled backward.
The next thing Bab knew, a knife blade was sawing up through the bonds of his pinioned arms. The rush of blood returning to his hands was more painful than the binding. Scorri, the only one of their number not to have been captured by the wizard, had struck him down. It had been a lucky stone from her sling that shouldn’t have gotten through his defenses that hit Mordint square in the forehead. She cut them all free—all but Milner. The look on his still, dead face said that the fear had stopped his heart.
Without Mordint, the living defenders were more fearful, less organized. Bab used his military expertise to organize his people into a defensive position. Coran threw his most powerful enchantment on the prone wizard to keep him unconscious as long as possible. Moving forward behind each swing of Bab’s hammer, they fought their way out of the pillar room. They still felt terrible fear, but survival depended upon ignoring it.
Keeping the enemy behind them, they fled in the direction of the stone. Adda managed to close and lock numerous doors between them and the stone men. Coran, running ahead of them with Scorri, called out to them in triumph.
The Chaos Shard was embedded in the wall in a very small chamber sandwiched between a reeking closestool and a cupboard jammed with decayed vellum scrolls that were of curiosity only as firelighters. Bab was frantic to get the Shard free of its setting and be on their way home again.
With the stone guardians pounding on the last of the doors, Bab kept urging Adda to hurry. Suddenly, the door burst asunder. The stone men tramped in, swinging their arms. Legg went flying. Just as the halflings were about to have to fight for their lives, Adda had let out a cry of joy. The stone had popped free.
The moment he did it, the stone men all fell down lifelessly. Bab stared unbelievingly, then came to his senses. He wrapped the glowing rock in a pouch. The survivors ran as if their feet were on fire out of the stronghold and didn’t stop until it was a league or better behind them.
They returned to Wenly Halt heroes. The two lost halflings were remembered fondly, and the town thought it had a treasure for the ages.
With the odd-colored sunlight beating down on his head, Bab reminded himself that he was not trapped in that dark hellhole any longer. It had featured often in his nightmares. He thought he could feel those tentacles on his legs again, almost as if they were real, the clammy grip tightening on his ankle …
Wait a moment, that was real!
He looked down. A gray claw was just closing on his foot. He knew what it was. Revulsion and fear turned his stomach upside down.
“Chuul!” he bellowed.
The hideous creature, part serpent, part bug, and part crab, slithered up the bank toward him. He seized his dagger and struck out at the pincer. It tightened and tried to pull him toward the ravine. The others drew arms and rushed to help him.
Fleshy creepers surged up through the mud as another chuul reared up its serpentine head. It seized Scorri’s neck and pulled her off her feet, dragging her toward the edge of the path where the waving tentacles waited. Adda threw himself on it and chopped at it, spraying shiny gray blood around. Meanwhile, Bab hacked away at the claw holding his leg. The chuul hissed. It tried to latch on to his arm or throat with the other claw. He darted his blade around, stabbing at random, so it could not guess his attack. It managed to thump him in the side of the head. He gasped, seeing stars. The beast outweighed them by several hundredweight. If it dragged them into the murky water, they were done for. The tentacles stunned victims so that they could be popped into the creature’s maw without struggling.
“There’s only a couple of them,” Adda shouted, panting. He hacked at the beast with his dagger. Both he and Scorri kicked and struggled against the snapping claws.
Bab spared a glance to count limbs and realized he was right. But to say “only two chuuls” was like saying only two plagues. He dropped the dagger and brought his hammer around.
He smashed it down on the claw tugging him along the ground. Pieces of shell went flying. It was only a small chip compared to the size of the beast, but the chuul let out a high-pitched shriek. It darted for him with the other claw, dislodging Adda. Bab rolled as fast as he could, avoiding the hideous pincer. The claw nipped his ear and pulled a lock of his hair out. He bellowed in pain. It made another grab for him.
Adda jumped onto the other creature’s back and hacked at its head, putting himself in reach of those deadly tentacles. It reared, trying to dump the skinny halfling into the murky water. Adda kicked it in the back of the head and jumped free. It took him around the chest with its claw, but it was the wounded one. Bab smashed at it with his hammer. Adda jabbed his chuul in the face. It dropped him and darted the second claw for his neck. Bab connected with his chuul’s wrist. The claw loosened. He took the opportunity and kicked it the rest of the way open. He fell to the ground at its feet. It reared up, preparing to strike again.
“… spirits of winter, heed my plea!”
Bab heard Coran chanting. A white object flew over his head and struck the creature in its armored chest. It stopped in mid grab. A clear, shining film covered it all over. It teetered and fell backward into the water with a titanic splash. Mud splattered the halflings on the bank.
“Ice won’t hold it long, I fear,” Coran said. His cherubic face looked drawn.
“Well done,” Bab said, clambering to his feet. “Can you do it again to the other?”
“Not yet. Give me … time.” The half-elf stood with his hands propped on his knees, panting.
“There isn’t time! Scorri is nearly over the edge!” Bab ran to help Adda, with Coran stumbling along behind.
Swish! A gray tentacle made a pass at Bab’s head. He ducked. A mere edge of it touched his cheek. He lost all feeling in his face. His mouth hung open as he gasped in air. He pounded at the chuul’s shoulder as if he were beating a pot into shape. Scorri held onto the edge of the path, kicking to stay out of the water. Her face was turning purple. Adda clung to the claw arm. Gobbets of foul flesh flew, but he seemed not to be weakening the beast very much.
Tiny arrows of light peppered the creature’s ugly face. It turned its head to look at Coran. One of the tentacles whipped out and caught the half-elf around the thigh. It dropped Scorri and started to reel in the enchanter. Adda ran to help the scout to her feet.
Conscious of the danger of touching the gray flesh, Bab ran after the small wizard, jumping up to strike at the chuul. His hammer bounced off its muscular sides, but he kept at it. The chuul slithered over the edge of the path and kept going. Coran was going to drown if they couldn’t stop it.
Bab threw himself on his belly, grabbing for Coran’s arm. The half-elf locked wrists with him. The chuul bellowed and kept going. It became a ridiculous tug of war, but Bab was determined not to let the half-elf fall into the muddy water. He braced his heels in the bank and held on. The chuul slithered over the edge, still pulling. Coran’s face was pale. Bab thought his muscles were about to pull off his bones when the chuul gave a tremendous tug and submerged. Bab went flying backward on the churned-up bank.
He feared he had lost Coran, but the small enchanter dropped on top of him, knocking all his breath out. They lay nose to nose and gasped for a moment.
“Are you all right? Did it sting you?” Bab asked.
Coran rolled over and patted himself down. His robes were disheveled and stained, but largely intact. “All’s well and in place.” He displayed one stockinged foot. “It got my boot.”
And indeed it had. Bab looked over the edge. The chuuls were tossing the leather boot back and forth like a ball, probably checking to see if a tasty morsel like the half-elf’s foot was still inside.
“Co
me on!” Bab said, retrieving his hammer. “We need to get away before they decide that’s inedible and they want the rest of you.”
“No,” Coran said, pulling his pouch around and feeling in it. “I need that boot! I can’t walk barefoot like you halflings.”
Bab groaned and plumped down next to Coran. Scorri and Adda all but crawled up to join them. The small wizard came out with a twisted thread.
“What’s that for?” Adda asked.
“To snare my boot,” Coran said. He spread the thread out on his palm and ran his finger along it. A ghost of the thread rose above them and elongated into a glowing rope with a noose on the end. It sailed toward the chuuls. He stretched out on his stomach. Bab and Adda held on to each of his legs. Coran wiggled the rope to try and catch the bouncing boot.
Bab sniffed the air. “Does that spell always smell so bad?”
“Never,” Coran said, wrinkling his nose. Bab turned to the others.
“Did one of you fart?”
Scorri looked outraged. “No! There’s not enough devil’s wind in any halfling to make that smell.”
“Then …?”
A shadow fell over them. Bab flipped over.
Mordint leered down on them. Bab gawked at him. The lanky sorcerer raised his arms. Clouds of flies buzzed around his armpits.
With his elf reflexes, Coran was the first to act. He flung his hand toward the sorcerer. Tiny silver darts flew in a cloud. Mordint dashed them away from his face. Coran screwed up his face and launched a cloud of white mist from his open palm. That made the grimy human recoil and bat at his eyes. The halflings scrambled up and started running away.
The path was no longer unoccupied, though. Bodies, weirdly misshapen creatures, blocked their way with spears and polearms. Before Bab could stop, he ran straight into a filthy, wild-eyed form.
“It’s me!” Legg exclaimed, reaching out for him.
“No!” Bab shouted to the others, raising his hammer. “He made a zombie out of Legg!”
