Too Many Curses (23 page)

He howled again. Alive, he'd often howled until his throat was raw, tears streaming from his eyes. He didn't have a throat or eyes anymore, so he had to watch himself, or he could howl for days on end. Even Dan might find that a tad peculiar.

He focused his empty sockets on the skeleton sitting at the table. "Ol' Mister Bones," he whispered. "Mister Bones, Mister Bones, Mister Bones. Can you hear it? Can you hear what ol' Dan hears? Of course you can. You're part of ol' Dan, you are. You can't deny that, can you?"

The skeleton did his best to ignore the chattering skull.

"Listen, Mister Bones. Listen close."

The kitchen rattled. Pots and pans banged against one another. The manacle around Mister Bones's ankle vibrated with sinister energy. He stood.

"Yes, yes, yes." Dan chortled. "Ol' Margle, he weren't so mad after all. He brought ol' Dan here with a purpose, you see. You and me, Mister Bones, we've a task to do. Not the
task Margle intended, but he's not our master anymore. Not until he comes back, and if the castle has its way, he won't ever be coming back. The magic in these walls has better ideas than boring ol' vengeance. Tonight, you and me, Mister Bones, we get to strangle the whole world. Not just us, of course. We're more like a knuckle of a giant hand wrapped around the throat of the world, but it's still an honor to be invited." His voice grew rough and menacing. "To be there to hear the death rattle of creation itself."

The skeleton sat back down.

"Oh, you've got some spirit in you. It's that goody-good Nessy. She's polluted you, tainted you with her nicety and pleasantness. Doesn't matter though. She couldn't wipe it all away. It's still in there. I can feel it. We can feel it."

The castle moaned in agreement. Mister Bones's chain twisted and writhed like a serpent. He stood again.

"That's it. Oh, ol' Dan knew you wouldn't let him down. Come along now, we mustn't miss the fun."

Mister Bones moved slowly, inexorably toward the skull. Each step was easier than the last. His posture changed. He became a skulking, grasping creature, a slouching, sneaking monster. Reverently, he lifted Decapitated Dan off the spice rack and lowered the skull onto his neck.

He paused. Just for a moment.

"None of that, Mister Bones. Too late to turn back now."

The shackle whipped in agreement. Mister Bones shoved the skull into place.

"That's better. Oh so much better." Dan stretched. He stared at his fingers of white bone, opening and closing them. He knocked aside the spice rack. It broke apart, spilling multicolored grains across the floor. "Oh how long I've been waiting to do that."

The castle groaned impatiently. The shackle around Dan's ankle sprang open.

"Don't worry. Ol' Dan is on his way. He knows his part." He threw back his head and howled once more. And this time, he didn't stop.

Though The Door At The End Of The Hall had taken to wandering about the castle, it was waiting for Nessy and Tiama at its proper place when they arrived. Nessy had expected as much.

Tiama halted at the hall's end, far from the Door, as if pausing to savor a sacred moment. Nessy looked up at Gareth the gargoyle, who said nothing. He just gritted his stone teeth nervously. The Door was strangely quiet, perhaps sensing its time had finally come.

The wizardess strode down the hall. A cold breeze filtered down its length. Nessy felt the drop in temperature, but the draft itself barely touched her. Tiama's robe whipped softly. The wind grew harsher with each step, but she seemed its only target. It blasted her with gale force. Her hair and robes stretched behind her, ready to tear away from her thin body. The hall stretched one step for every two she took,
and though the force of air threatened to snatch Tiama by her long sleeves and carry her away like a kite, she pressed on. Slowly. Inevitably.

Nessy wondered just why the Door would struggle so against Tiama. It wanted to be opened and she was here to do just that. The Door should've drawn her to it instead of pushing her away. As for Nessy and the nurgax, the gale seemed only a chill breeze. A trifle colder than the general drafts of the castle but nothing too bothersome, and almost welcoming for a forbidden portal of doom. She'd long ago accepted she'd never truly understand magic. Maybe no one ever did. Maybe even the greatest wizards just feigned comprehension, hiding their ignorance behind towering arrogance and fortresses of bluster. It would certainly go a long way toward explaining how often they were destroyed by the very forces they claimed to master.

Tiama and Nessy reached the Door. The winds buffeted Tiama as she put out a hand. Then the strangest thing happened. The Door At The End Of The Hall pulled away from her. The parchments nailed across it flailed, slicing her hands. The cuts to her left arm were so deep that the hand hung at her wrist by a few strands of flesh. There was no blood. Only some red sand and green mist wept from the wounds.

Tiama screamed in agony. Nessy was taken aback. She hadn't been sure the wizardess could even feel pain. Now Tiama howled as if her soul were being rent to pieces.

The Door howled along with her as if sharing her suffering. Her eyes burned with black fire that traveled along
her eyelashes to her eyebrows and set her white hair ablaze in a pyre of smokeless, ebony flame.

No one understood magic, Nessy decided for certain.

Abruptly, Tiama's screams came to an end. Her face became the same hollow mask it always was. The flames died away. There wasn't any smoke, but Nessy smelled the stench of ash. The gale died as Tiama drew her mangled limbs into her long sleeves. She said nothing. Only stared at the Door in utter silence.

The nurgax whined curiously, but Nessy quieted it with a touch on the snout.

Tiama's left hand, whole and without a trace of damage, extended from her sleeve. She barely reached for the Door's handle when the hall roared. Something not quite invisible jumped from the Door and struck her. Tiama, both flesh and robes, crumbled into red dust.

The Door groaned with disappointment.

Nessy wasn't optimistic enough to think the enchantment on the Door had destroyed Tiama. The wizardess was far too powerful for that. While Nessy waited, she pondered why Tiama was having so much trouble with the Door, even if the magic guarding it was impressive. Perhaps even deceased, Margle possessed enough power to keep the Door sealed forever. It wouldn't save the castle from Tiama's wrath, but it would spare the world at least.

The dust exploded in a burst of flame that solidified into Tiama's gaunt form. She made no move toward the Door this time.

"Nessy, open the Door," Tiama commanded.

"But, my mistress, if you couldn't open it, how can I?"

Tiama glared. "Are you questioning me?"

Nessy bent low, turning her gaze to Tiama's feet. Or where Tiama's feet would've been had they not been covered by her sweeping robes. "No, my mistress, but—"

"Look at me."

Nessy raised her head until she looked the wizardess straight in her smoldering eyes. It was meant to intimidate, but Nessy didn't feel afraid. Tiama seemed somehow lessened.

"Do as I command, beast."

A suggestion of desperation slid beneath the surface of Tiama's cold voice. Nessy glanced at the Door; its timbers slanted in her direction.

"Do it!" It was the first time Tiama had shouted. Wrinkles creased her formerly porcelain features.

The nurgax growled. Nessy stroked its horn until it was calm.

"No." She was quite surprised to hear herself say the word. She wasn't the same kobold she had been only days ago, though she hadn't realized that until now.

"You dare defy me?"

"Yes, I believe I do." Nessy smiled. "If you want that Door opened, you'll have to open it yourself. If you can."

"My power is beyond your pathetic imagination."

"Very true." Nessy bowed and motioned toward the
Door. "So it shouldn't be very difficult to pry open a single stubborn door."

Tiama scowled. Her skin boiled. Liquid flame dripped from her eyes before her face snapped back into that preternatural blank.

"What makes you think I won't destroy you?"

"I'd be very surprised if you didn't. I've yet to meet a wizard who could control their temper. They're all rather like spoiled children." She grinned. It felt very nice to finally say the things she'd always thought.

"Don't you fear death, beast?"

Nessy shrugged. "Not really. A violent death is expected in my trade. I made my peace with it long ago."

Tiama stammered. "And what of your friends? The bat, the voice, the cat and the others? You do know I'll destroy them as well."

"I know, but I also know that whatever is behind that Door is a far greater evil than you. And behind that Door is where it will stay."

Tiama's eyebrows arched. "You would sacrifice every poor soul in this castle?"

"If I can save them, I will." Nessy sighed. "But if there's no other way, then so be it."

"You are far too practical for your own good, Nessy." The wizardess clasped her hands behind her back. "It's an admirable trait, I suppose. To a point."

"You can't open the Door, can you?"

Tiama shook her head. "Even I have my limits."

Speaking with Tiama as an equal wasn't so difficult. Nessy had never feared any of her masters, but she'd always feigned terror. She didn't see the point now.

"What makes you think
I
can?" she asked.

"I know you can."

Nessy studied the Door. The runes and glyphs upon it meant nothing to her, but she still had much the same impression. Why Margle had placed this burden upon her, she didn't understand.

"I'll never open it."

Cold mist leaked from the jamb as the Door grumbled.

"Then you'll leave me no choice but to destroy you and everything else in this castle," said Tiama.

"You were going to destroy most of it anyway. You said it yourself, there's nothing of value here for you. Why don't you just leave?"

"Are you appealing to my mercy?"

"Not your mercy. Your indifference. But if you must look at it in such terms, perhaps there would be nothing crueler than leaving them to suffer their curses. It could be said that death would be an act of compassion for most everyone here. And if that isn't a good enough reason for you, then how about the simple truth that the castle is destroying itself very nicely without any intervention on your part?"

Tiama chuckled dryly, as if the sound itself had to claw its way out of her throat. "Very good, Nessy. You're quite clever in your own way. I do confess, your argument makes
a certain sense. But it doesn't matter. I shall smash this castle and everything in it to ruins. And I shall send those ruins so deep within the bowels of the earth that none will know it ever existed. It's the only option left to me."

She whirled and stretched out her hand a mere inch from Nessy's face. "All it takes is one touch, you know. Do you know what it's like to never feel the caress of warm flesh, to know only the icy tenderness of oblivion?" She drew back her hand and frowned.

Compassion swelled within Nessy. Tiama was as cursed as anyone else in this castle. That the curse was her own doing made it no less tragic.

Tiama's face hardened. "I don't need your pity, beast." She turned to the Door and spoke with her back to Nessy. "Let's play a game. Opportunity offers me so few amusements. Run. Run and hide in this home of yours. Hide from me as long as you can. Because when I do find you, and I will find you, I am going to pass the next one hundred years killing you over and over and over again. By the end, you shall curse me and everything you once held dear. And then we shall see which of us will be in need of pity."

Nessy stood there a moment and pondered. Every previous master had spoken endlessly of the torments they would inflict on her, but when it came right down to it, she always expected to be destroyed in a passing moment. Wizards considered their time far too valuable for anything more elaborate for a lowly kobold. Tiama's speech was very pretty, very wizardly, but it was yet another lie.

"I don't hear you running," said Tiama. "Has your terror frozen you to the spot? I was hoping for a little more sport."

Nessy didn't know what Tiama was scheming. She didn't think Tiama could be stopped, but Nessy owed it to her charges to take whatever chances were offered. And, whatever her reasons, Tiama had given Nessy more time to come up with schemes of her own. She turned and walked down the hall.

Tiama called after Nessy as she turned the corner. "Hide well. Don't make it too easy."

The nurgax growled.

Nessy traveled through the castle. Her mind wasn't on hiding. It was well past the time of waiting for Tiama to get bored and leave, which she certainly wasn't going to do. Nessy had to find a way to destroy the wizardess, or at the very least, remove her permanently from the castle. Her thoughts turned to the most dangerous areas of her home. The Catacombs were a maze of ravenous creatures. But Tiama couldn't be killed by terrible beasts.
THE MONSTER THAT SHOULD NOT BE
had proven that.

There was the Bottomless Pit, a yawning hole from which nothing ever reemerged. There was the Chamber of Blades, where guillotines and saws waited to chop and slice anything that entered. Or the Insatiate Furnace. Or the Tapestry of Emptiness. The Hall of the Blood Fountains. The Dungeon of Dismemberment. The Den of Blasted Pox. The problem wasn't in finding something suitably perilous,
nor of luring her there. But so far there'd been no proof that anything could be more than a touch troublesome to the wizardess. And even that was a trifle optimistic.

Nessy decided then that she was contemplating the wrong question. Tiama couldn't be stopped, but she was still playing these strange games, involved in bizarre machinations. Wizards were eccentric, but they weren't generally stupid.

She thought of Margle. Compared to Tiama, he'd been quite sane and predictable. Nessy couldn't envision him giving her authority over The Door At The End Of The Hall. That thing that he feared so much placed in her care. He'd always been obnoxious, insulting, but she'd known he trusted her. She'd never suspected he'd trusted her that much.