Angus Wells - The Kingdoms 03 (48 page)

 
          
The
gait was smooth and it moved at a pace for swifter than any horse could attain.
Kedryn found himself enjoying the sensation of speed, watching the ocher grass
flash by beneath the narrow limbs, the line of purple cloud loom steadily
closer, jagged hills becoming visible beneath the overcast.

 
          
Before
another day had passed they reached foothills, jumbled stands of dull brown
rock that angled steeply upward toward even more craggy peaks overtopped by the
cloud.

 
          
The
ant-things halted and Kedryn’s said, “Not go farther.”

 
          
Kedryn
dropped to the ground. “You have my thanks,” he said.

 
          
“You
bear sword,” answered the creature, and without further ado began to run back
the way they had come, its companions behind.

 
          
The
three men watched them disappear into the orange haze of the distance and
turned toward the hills. They were the color of fresh-baked brick, sharp and
high, the cloud that hung above more malignant with proximity, like poisoned
flesh. Cliffs showed, pocked with caves, and stunted shrubs thrust spikey limbs
from crannies where puce soil found footing. The lower slopes were straited
with gullies, a rocky maze that wound up to the more vertiginous levels.

 
          
“Let
us rest,” Kedryn suggested, “and climb tomorrow.”

 
          
“Sound
advice,” agreed Tepshen.

 
          
They
found a cleft surrounded on three sides by rock and spread their blankets on
the sandy soil, waiting for the cloud to extend across the plain, wondering
what lay ahead.

 
          
When
the cloud once again extended its light-absorbing blanket across the sky the
proximity of the hills seemed to render the darkness more intense. It seemed
now of an almost palpable density, as though the intangible matter of the air
itself became tainted with the purple occupation. The radiance of the talisman
lessened, encompassing a smaller area, and Kedryn wondered if its power
decreased as he progressed deeper into the regions of the netherworld. It made
little difference, for his determination burned fiercely as ever and he
realized that they had come too far to contemplate turning back. The bloody river
was a barrier they could not hope to cross unaided and he could not be sure
that the ant-creatures would prove so helpful a second time, consequently they
had no way to go save forward, over the hills and on to whatever strangeness
lay beyond. He was, anyway, more immediately concerned with what lay on this
side as he stood his turn on watch, listening to the sounds that came out of
the blackness like the echoes of nightmare.

 
          
The
nights they had spent on the plain had been marked by a silence deep as the
darkness, and he had considered that eerie, but now £e thought fondly of that
soundlessness as his ears were assailed by strange, indefinable noises that set
his flesh to creeping and settled his hands firmly about the hilt of Drul’s
glaive. There were scuttlings and leathery rustlings, clicking sounds,
gurglings, and sucking noises that made him think of gigantic insects pouncing
and draining their prey of body fluids. He would have clutched the talisman for
comfort, but was afraid such action would dim its light and allow the creatures
he heard moving over the higher slopes to approach, so instead he steeled
himself to remain alert, struggling to ignore the apprehension that threatened
to leech his courage. He was happy to relinquish his watch to Tepshen, and
happier still when Brannoc shook him awake, for his sleep had been filled with
ugly dreams.

 
          
The
day was no different from the others, except that now when he looked up he saw
the cloud directly overhead, looming above the jagged hills so that the brick
red shading of the lower slopes became transformed through crimson to a dark
umber where the topmost peaks seemed to touch the rack. The breeze was warmer
and the odor of rotten fruit stronger, the caves that pocked the cliffs
ineffably menacing.

 
          
“Perchance
whatever creatures inhabit the holes emerge only by night,” Brannoc remarked,
eyeing the openings with unalloyed distaste.

 
          
“We
shall be up there then,” Tepshen grunted, shouldering his pack.

 
          
“Unless
we find a pass,” the half-breed said hopefully.

 
          
“Even
so ... Tepshen shrugged and left the sentence unfinished.

 
          
“Mayhap
one is occupied by Taziel,” Kedryn suggested.

 
          
“I
see no fire.” Tepshen shook his head. “I think the smith’s forge must lie
deeper.”

 
          
“There
is but one way to find out.” Kedryn smiled grimly and began to climb.

 
          
At
first they made their way along a gulley that slanted steadily upward, wide at
its opening, but then narrowing until they marched between high walls of red
stone. Finally it became too narrow to permit further passage and they climbed
out, finding themselves on a shelf of serrated rock confronted by a cliff that
angled slightly backward, presenting sufficient handholds for them to work
their way to the top without excessive difficulty. They clambered over jumbled
rock and assailed a second cliff to a narrow ledge that ran along the face of a
steeper scarp, smooth and bereft of the irregularities that made climbing
possible, a cleft showing to the right. Between the cleft and their position a
cave opened its dark maw at head height; in the opposite direction there were
three.

 
          
“One
would seem the lesser of evils,” Brannoc muttered, “and mayhap that crevice
will afford us passage through.”

 
          
“Mayhap,”
agreed Kedryn and, being the closest, set to edging his way along the ledge.

 
          
The
shelf allowed no room to manuever and he prayed that nothing should attack, for
swordwork was impossible in those narrow confines. He moved slowly, sliding
first one foot and then the other over the rough surface, his arms spread wide,
fingers seeking cracks and abrasions that might grant him
purchase,
his cheek close against the stone. As he drew nearer to the cave the reek of
decayed fruit grew stronger, cloying in his nostrils and threatening to dizzy
him with its fetid sweetness. He reached the cave, its floor level with his
shoulders, and felt the breeze, hot now, ruffle his hair, the stench
nauseating. Something moved within the darkness and he heard a scraping against
stone, a sharp clicking sound. His senses rebelled against knowledge of the
cave’s occupant and he forced himself to peer into the shadowed interior even
as he increased his pace along the ledge, anxious to be past the menacing
orifice. He saw nothing, however, and went by without incident, calling a
warning back to his comrades. Tepshen followed him, and then
Brannoc,
and it seemed the half-breed’s surmise of the creatures’ nocturnal habits was
correct, for nothing emerged to threaten them and Kedryn reached the opening of
the cleft safely.

 
          
It
was wedge-shaped, as though an ax had split the mountains, rending the stone to
produce a long cut that thrust inward, dark and forbidding. Little light
penetrated the gash, the purple cloud obscuring the illumination of the
vermilion sky, but the ledge ended there and the floor offered firm footing:
Kedryn eased inside.

 
          
Tepshen
and Brannoc joined him and they contemplated their situation, deciding to
follow the cleft as far as they could, for it seemed to offer ingress to the
heart of the mountains, and hopefully an exit point that would take them
higher.

 
          
The
ground beneath their feet was thick with pulverulent rubble, their steps
raising clouds of russet dust that hung thick on the steadily warmer air. The
reek of moldering fruit was almost overpowering, and as they progressed they
saw a profusion of caves marking the walls above. By unspoken consent they
increased their speed, stumbling through the gritty debris of the floor, their
inward passage taking them steadily deeper into the shadows. There was no
breeze within the cleft and the dust plastered faces become sweaty with the
effort of the climb, clogging in eyes and nostrils so that they blinked tears
and began to cough, spitting the acrid stuff from their mouths. Urgency
possessed them and they cast frequent glances upward toward the cave mouths,
momentarily anticipating the emergence of the dwellers within.

 
          
After
a while the cut turned, hiding the entrance, and what little light there had
been faded dramatically. They moved now in a weird twilight, dark purple above
and dull red below, feeling the floor begin to angle upward, aware that its
incline must take them close past the lower of the caves they could just make
out pocking the walls.

 
          
The
sounds Kedryn had heard emanating from the first cave were louder, as though the
obscuration of light allowed the inhabitants a greater freedom of movement, and
they hurried as best they could on the uncertain surface, feeling their way
with hands thrust out to the walls and lungs protesting the constant inhalation
of dust-laden air. It seemed, after the length of the days on the plain, that
relatively little time had passed before the light waned altogether. Directly
beneath the cloud, there was no warning of its movement and they were abruptly
plunged into darkness. Brannoc cursed volubly, his sentiments, if not his
fluency, echoed by his companions. Kedryn clutched the talisman, praying
fervently that the Lady guard them as he heard the sounds of the previous night
return.

 
          
“We
have no choice but to halt,” Tepshen declared as the pale blue radiance glowed.
Adding, as he cocked his head and stared into the blackness, “With drawn
swords.”

 
          
Kedryn
and Brannoc followed his advice, Keshi saber sliding from scabbard, Drul’s
great glaive from the sling on Kedryn’s back. There was barely sufficient room
within the cleft to swing a sword and the three comrades stood
shoulder-to-shoulder, blades leveled at the ominous night, knowing that any
attack must be faced head-on.

 
          
The
noises grew, clickings and scrapings and rustling sounds, punctuated by
strange, shrill whistles that preceded the horrible sucking noises, as if
numerous many-legged things emerged from the caves above them. They could see
nothing beyond the nimbus of the talisman and that, for all they felt an
instinctive loathing of whatever monstrous creatures stalked the night, was
somehow worse, their very real anticipation of physical danger magnified by its
unknown quality.

 
          
It
occurred to Kedryn that something might well descend upon them from above and
he transferred the glaive to his shoulder, angling the point up that he might
stab at anything offering harm from that quarter.

 
          
Then
Tepshen said softly, “One approaches.”

 
          
Kedryn
turned slightly, peering past the kyo. At first he saw only the glow of the
talisman, its light transforming the darkness to a watery, aquamarine glow, as
if he stared into a pool, that illumination ending scant paces from their
position, pitch blackness beyond it. He heard a scuttling, clattering sound, a
little louder than the rest, and gasped as the maker was outlined by the
talisman’s effulgence.

 
          
A
cold chill clenched his teeth, hair prickled at the nape of his neck, as he saw
the thing. He heard Brannoc groan, “Lady be with us now!” and felt the tension
that emanated from Tepshen.

 
          
The
closest approximation his mind could form was to a spider, for it was a thing
of multiple limbs and many eyes. The larger part of the body was a great
bloated sac, rusty red save for a mottling of darker maroon like a design upon
the upper part, narrowing at its farthest extremity to a wickedly curved
stinger from which droplets of carmine fell to seethe upon the grit of the
cleft’s floor. From the forward part of the sac ten legs, each thick as a stout
man’s thigh, extended, bristling with reddish hairs and holding the repulsive
body high above the ground so that the head was level
with
his own
. That was a shiny dark blue ovoid, set all round with huge,
many-faceted eyes that glittered agate and implacable, staring in all
directions at once. The ovoid ended in a maw in which thick palps were visible,
four, curving and dripping
a foaming
, yellow saliva.
Beyond the palps, extending so that the maw was distorted in an attitude of
insensate voracity, were two huge mandibles that snapped hungrily together,
producing the clicking sound.

 
          
It
reared up on eight of its legs, the foremost pair waving as though in
challenge, probing the outer perimeter of the talisman’s protective glow.

 
          
“It
attacks!” cried Brannoc, loathing and fear in his voice.

 
          
“Then
it dies!” snapped Tepshen.

 
          
He
moved as he spoke, feet shuffling through the dust in the tight, dancing steps
Kedryn remembered from the practice ground. The long eastern sword was raised
in a doublehanded grip above his head and while the creature’s two limbs still
wavered about the edges of the light it swung down and across.

 
          
One
hair-bristled limb was severed close to the body. Before it touched the gritty
floor the blade was reversed, sweeping back to strike across the palps, then a
third time, slashing back in a flat arc that sundered the other forelimb. The
creature emitted a shrill whistling sound, almost unheard under the furious
clattering of its mandibles. Viscous liquid spilled from the cut palps, red and
malignant as the fluid oozing from the stinger. Tepshen halted barely within
the talisman’s light, blade upraised again. The arachnid-like creature seemed
to stare at him, its remaining legs bunching as if it prepared to spring.
Kedryn saw a second approach from down the cleft and held Drul’s sword ready to
strike, but the spidery beast turned aside, scuttling vertiginously up the
chasm’s wall and then leaping upon its wounded fellow.