The Lake of Souls (15 page)

Coughing — the force of the impact had raised a thick cloud of dust — we pushed ahead blindly, dragging Spits between us, into darkness and what we hoped was safety from the crumbling Temple of the Grotesque. After several frantic yards we came to a hole in the ground. Exploring with my hands, I said, “I think it’s a tunnel — but it drops sharply!”

“If it gets covered over … we’ll be trapped,” Harkat said.

There was a heavy bang overhead and the floorboards above us creaked ominously. “We don’t have a choice!” I yelled, and crawled into the tunnel, bracing myself against the walls with my hands and feet. Harkat shoved Spits after me, then came himself — the tunnel was only just wide enough to accommodate his bulky body.

We clung near the top of the tunnel a few seconds, listening to the sounds of the destruction. I peered down the tunnel, but there was no light, and no way of telling how long it was. Spits’s body weighed a ton and my feet began to slip. I tried digging in with my nails, but the stone was too smooth and tough. “We have to slide!” I bellowed.

“What if we can’t get … back up?” Harkat asked.

“One crisis at a time!” I shouted, and let go. I lay flat on my back, allowing my body to shoot down the tunnel. It was a short, fast ride. The tunnel dropped sharply for many feet, then gradually leveled out. I came to a stop several seconds later at the end of the tunnel, where I stretched out a foot, searching for the floor. I hadn’t found it when the unconscious Spits barreled into the back of me and sent me sprawling out into open space.

I opened my mouth to yell, but hit the ground before I could — the mouth of the tunnel was only a few feet off the floor. Relieved, I got to my knees — and was promptly knocked flat when Spits toppled out on top of me. Swearing blindly, I pushed him off and was rising again when Harkat shot out of the tunnel and bowled me over.

“Sorry,” the Little Person muttered, easing himself off. “Are you OK?”

“I feel like I’ve been run over by a steamroller,” I groaned, then sat up and took deep breaths of the musty air, letting my head clear.

“We’ve escaped being crushed by … the temple,” Harkat noted after a while, as the noises echoing through the tunnel decreased and then ceased.

“For whatever good it’ll be,” I grunted. I couldn’t see my friend in the gloom of the underground cavern. “If there’s no way out, we’ll face a slow, miserable death. We might wind up wishing we’d been squashed by a falling pillar.”

Beside me, Spits groaned feebly, then muttered something unintelligible. There was the sound of him sitting up, then, “What’s happening? Where have the lights gone?”

“The lights, Spits!” I asked innocently.

“I can’t see!” he gasped. “It’s pitch black!”

“Really?” I said, eager to punish him for fouling things up with the Kulashkas.
I
can see fine. How about you, Harkat?”

“Perfectly,” Harkat murmured. “I wish I had … sunglasses, it’s so bright.”

“My eyes!” Spits howled. “I’m blind!”

We let Spits suffer a while, before telling him the truth. He berated us with some choice insults for scaring him, but soon calmed down and asked what our next move would be.

“I guess we walk,” I answered, “and see where we end up. We can’t go back, and there are walls to the left and right —” I could tell by the echoes of our voices “— so it’s straight ahead until a choice presents itself.”

“I blame ye fer this,” Spits muttered. “If ye hadn’t gone prancing about in that bloody temple, we’d be waltzing through the fields now, with all the fresh air in the world t’ breathe.”

“We weren’t the ones who … tossed bombs when there wasn’t a need!” Harkat snapped. “We’d agreed to a deal with … the Kulashkas. They were letting us go.”

“That lot?” Spits snorted. “They’d’ve strung ye up and had ye fer breakfast!”

“I’ll string
you
up if you don’t … shut your mouth,” Harkat growled.

“What’s eating him?” Spits asked me, stung by Harkat’s tone.

“Many Kulashkas died because of you,” I sighed. “If you’d stayed outside like you were supposed to, they wouldn’t have.”

“Who cares about that lot?” Spits laughed. “They ain’t of our world. What’s the difference if some of ’em got squished?”

“They were people!” Harkat roared. “It doesn’t matter what … world they were from. We had no right … to come in here and kill them! We —”

“Easy,” I hushed him. “We can’t put it right now. Spits was only trying to help, in his clumsy, drunken way. Let’s concentrate on finding a way out, and leave the finger-pointing for another time.”

“Just keep him away … from me,” Harkat grumbled, pushing to the front and taking the lead.

“That’s not very polite,” Spits complained. “I thought, as an imp, he’d be delighted to cause havoc.”

“Be quiet,” I snapped, “or I’ll change my mind and set him on you!”

“Crazy pair o’ landlubbers,” Spits snorted, but kept further comments to himself and fell in behind me as I stumbled after Harkat.

We limped along in silence for a number of minutes, disturbed only by the sound of Spits slurping from his jug of poteen (no fear
that
got broken in the explosion!). It was completely dark in the tunnel. I couldn’t see Harkat, even though he was only a few feet ahead of me, so I concentrated on my sense of hearing, following him by sound alone. His large grey feet made a very distinctive noise, and because I was focusing on that, I didn’t hear the other sounds until they were almost upon us.

“Stop!” I hissed suddenly.

Harkat came to an instant standstill. Behind me, Spits stumbled into my back. “What’re ye —” he began.

I clamped a hand over his mouth, finding it with little difficulty from the stink of his breath. “Not a word,” I whispered, and through the throb of his lips I felt his heart pick up speed.

“What’s wrong?” Harkat asked quietly.

“We’re not alone,” I said, straining my ears. There were very slight rustling sounds all around us, ahead, at the sides, behind. The sounds stopped for a few seconds when we stopped, but then picked up again, slightly slower and quieter than before.

“Something just crawled over my right foot,” Harkat said.

I felt Spits stiffen. “I’ve had enough o’ this,” he muttered fearfully, and made to pull away and run.

“I wouldn’t do that,” I said softly. “I think I know what this is. If I’m right, running would be a
very
bad idea.”

Spits trembled but held his nerve and stood his ground. Releasing him, I bent to the ground slowly, as gracefully as I could, and gently laid a hand on the floor of the tunnel. A few seconds later, something crawled over my fingers, something with hairy legs … two … four … six … eight.

“Spiders,” I whispered. “We’re surrounded by spiders.”

“Is that all?” Spits laughed. “I’m not scared o’ a few wee spiders! Stand aside, boys, and I’ll stamp ’em out fer ye.”

I sensed Spits raising a foot into the air. “What if they’re poisonous?” I said. He froze.

“I’ve a better one,” Harkat said. “Maybe these are babies. This is a world of … giants — the Grotesque and that monstrous toad. What if there are giant … spiders too?”

At that, I froze like Spits had, and the three of us stood there, sweating in the darkness, listening … waiting … helpless.

CHAPTER TWENTY

“
T
HEY’RE CRAWLING UP MY LEG
,” Spits said after a while. He hadn’t lowered his foot and was trembling wildly.

“And mine,” Harkat said.

“Let them,” I said. “Spits — lower your foot, as slowly as you can, and make sure you don’t squash any of the spiders.”

“Can you talk to them and … control them?” Harkat asked.

“I’ll try in a minute,” I said. “First I want to find out if these are all we have to deal with.” I’d been fascinated by spiders when I was a kid. That’s how I got mixed up with Mr. Crepsley, through his performing tarantula, Madam Octa. I had a gift for communicating with arachnids and had learned to control them with my thoughts. But that had been on Earth. Would my powers extend to the spiders here?

I penetrated the darkness with my ears. There were hundreds, maybe thousands of spiders in the tunnel, covering the floor, walls and ceiling. As I listened, one dropped onto my head and began exploring my scalp. I didn’t brush it off. Judging from the noise and the feel of the spider on my head, these were medium-sized tarantulas. If there were any giant spiders, they weren’t moving — maybe because they were waiting for us to walk into their lair?

I carefully raised my right hand and touched my fingers to the side of my head. The spider found them a few seconds later. It tested the new surface, then crawled onto my hand. I brought my hand and the spider down and around, so that I was facing it (even though I couldn’t see it). Taking a deep breath, I focused my attention on the spider and began talking to it inside my head. When I’d done this in the past, I’d used a flute to help focus my thoughts. This time I just had to wing it and hope for the best.

“Hello, little one. Is this your home? We’re not intruders — we’re just passing through. I can tell you’re a beauty. Intelligent too. You can hear me, can’t you? You understand. We’re not going to harm you. We just want safe passage.” As I continued talking to the spider, reassuring it of our peaceful intentions, flattering it and trying to get inside its head, I extended my range of thought and directed my words at the spiders around us. It’s not necessary to control every spider in a huge pack, just those nearest to you. If you have the talent and experience, you can then use those spiders to control the rest. I could do that with spiders in my own world — was this gang the same, or were we doomed flies caught in an underground web?

After a couple of minutes, I put my abilities to the test. Bending, I let the spider crawl off my fingers onto the floor, then addressed the group around us. “We need to move on now, but we don’t want to hurt any of you. You’ll have to spread out of our way. We can’t see you. If you stay bunched together, we won’t be able to avoid you. Move, my beauties. Slip to the sides, Let us pass freely.”

Nothing happened. I feared the worst but kept on trying, talking to them, urging them to part. I’d have been more authoritative with normal spiders, and ordered them out of our way. But I didn’t know how these would react to direct commands, and didn’t want to risk angering them.

For two or three minutes I spoke to the spiders, asking them to move. Then, when I was almost on the point of quitting and making a break for freedom, Harkat said, “They’re climbing off me.”

“Me too,” Spits croaked a moment later. He sounded on the verge of tears.

All around us the spiders were retreating, slowly edging out of our way. I stood, relieved, but didn’t break mental contact with them. I kept on talking inside my head, thanking them, congratulating them, keeping them on the move.

“Is it safe to advance?” Harkat asked.

“Yes,” I grunted, anxious not to lose my concentration. “But slowly. Feel in front with your toes every time you take a step.”

I went back to communicating my thoughts to the spiders. Harkat edged ahead, one sliding step after another. I followed, keeping close, maintaining my link with the spiders. Spits stumbled along behind, holding on to my sleeve with one hand, clutching his bottle of poteen to his chest with his other.

We walked for a long time in this way, many of the spiders keeping pace with us, new recruits joining them farther along the tunnel. No signs of any giants. It was had work talking to them for such an extended amount of time, but I didn’t let my concentration slip.

Finally, after twenty or thirty minutes, Harkat stopped and said, “I’ve come to a door.”

Stepping up beside him, I laid a hand on hard, smooth wood. It was covered in cobwebs, but they were old and dry, and brushed away easily at my touch. “How do you know it’s a door?” I asked, momentarily breaking contact with the spiders. “Maybe the tunnel’s just blocked off.” Harkat found my right hand and guided it to a metal handle. “Does it turn?” I whispered.

“Only one way to … find out,” he said, and together we twisted it down. There was almost no resistance, and the door swung inward the instant the latch was retracted. A soft buzzing noise greeted us from inside. The spiders around us scuttled backward a foot.

“I don’t like this,” I hissed. “I’ll go in alone and check it out.” Moving ahead of Harkat, I entered the room and found myself standing on cold, hard tiles. I flexed my bare toes a few times, to be certain.

“What’s wrong?” Harkat asked when he didn’t hear me moving.

“Nothing,” I said. Remembering the spiders, I reestablished contact and told them to stay where they were. Then I took a step forward. Something long and thin brushed against my face — it felt like a giant spider leg! I ducked sharply — the spiders had guided us into a trap! We were going to be devoured by monster arachnids! We had to run, get out, flee for our lives! We …

But nothing happened. I wasn’t seized by long, hairy spider legs. There was no sound of a giant spider creeping toward me, intent on finishing me off. In fact there were no sounds at all, except for the strange buzzing and the fast, hard beating of my heart.

Rising slowly, I stretched out my arms and explored. My left hand found a long narrow piece of cord hanging from above. Wrapping my fingers around it, I tugged softly. It resisted, so I tugged again, slightly harder. There was a click, then a harsh white light flooded the room.

I winced and covered my eyes — the light was blinding after the blackness of the tunnel. Behind me, I heard Harkat and Spits spin aside to avoid the glare. The spiders took no notice of it — living in utter darkness, they must have discarded their sense of sight some time in the past.

“Are you OK?” Harkat roared. “Is it a trap?”

“No,” I muttered, spreading my fingers slightly in front of my eyes, allowing my pupils to adjust. “It’s just a …” I stopped as my fingers parted. Lowering my hands, I gazed around, bewildered.

“Darren?” Harkat said. When I didn’t answer, he poked his head through the door. “What’s … ?” He stopped when he saw what I was looking at, and stepped into the room, speechless. Spits did the same moments later.