The Weird Company (19 page)

I have called Zkauba a wizard, though this word does not do him or his species justice. The technology of the Nug Soth was so advanced and beyond the ken of men that it can only be described as wizardry. Yet that wizardry was not the artifice of a sparse few practitioners, but rather it permeated their society at all levels, such that even the simplest of merchants and manufacturers could bend the laws of thermodynamics to their will. But, Zkauba was no simple practitioner, he was a servant of the Arch-Ancient Buo, and one of many charged by the aged hierophant with defending the birthing crypts from the ravenous, monstrous, burrowing things that dwelt below the surface of Yaddith. The Dholes were greasy, bloated worms as alien and incomprehensible to the Nug Soth as that species would be to Men, and try as they might, Zkauba’s people found defending their young against the predations of the Dholes a constant struggle. Likewise, there seemed to be little way to deter their monstrous habit of boring through the very crust of the planet itself. This battle to control the Dholes was grounded not only in their attempt to master the planet, but also in the very tenets of their religious veneration. The Nug Soth’s deity was not an abstract entity, but rather their own Progenitor, the All-Mother Thaqquallah, who is known amongst the mystics of Earth by the name Shub-Niggurath. Thaqquallah had been imprisoned deep within the bowels of Yaddith by those who had created her, and access to the tunnel that led downward into the plutonian interior, where her cenobites tended to her pain-wracked form, was strictly forbidden. That the All-Mother had begot two species that struggled for dominance was perplexing to the Nug Soth. They called it the Riddle of Thaqquallah. How was it, the philosophers of the Nug Soth wondered, that the All-Mother could give her favor to the Nug Soth, and yet let the Dholes remain unfettered.

Some suggested that the All-Mother be beseeched for mercy, but each time Buo had refused, and warned that any attempts to plead with the All-Mother might have dire consequences. It was best, Buo counseled, to leave the gravid deity undisturbed, and seek solutions elsewhere. Envoys were dispatched in light-envelopes to Nython, Mthura and even the twin planets of the Xoth and Xastur, in search of formulations for employ against the Dholes. Though certain worlds, such as those housing the great machines circling the stars Altair and Epsilon Eridani, and the library world of Celeano, were forbidden. These were worlds of the Q’Hrell, those who had created the All-Mother and then imprisoned her, and these Progenitors bore no love for the Nug Soth.

Yet despite their efforts, the Nug Soth had found no effective deterrents that could prevent the feasting of the Dholes, save those that were lethal to both species. Indeed, this in itself was a cause of great consternation amongst the philosophers, for it served as a constant reminder that Thaqquallah was the mother of both the Nug Soth, and of the Dholes as well. That the Nug Soth could bear such similar physiologies to beings that could carry out such atrocious acts made many of the more introspective members of the species shudder with fear, and perhaps a bit of self-loathing.

In such times of great existential doubt, Zkauba, like many of his species, would abandon the avenues that comprised the fronded metal cities that grace the surface of Yaddith and instead take comfort in the Holy Tablets of Nhing. But on one day, the tablets brought no comfort to my unwilling host Zkauba, for the news had not been pleasant. The word had come that one of the brooding ziggurats had been violated and the brood attendants slaughtered. The offending Dholes had then devoured the unprotected larval Nug Soth in a most horrific manner, leaving only a few of the young alive. Such a loss was devastating not only to the individuals whose bloodlines were represented in the ziggurat, but to the Nug Soth as a whole. Larval Nug Soth were mindless, voracious creatures that easily consumed their own weight every few hours, and thus were able to reach maturity about a year after their birth. The metamorphosis of larva into juvenile females involved the rapid development of cognitive abilities, as well as the production of dozens of eggs that needed to be fertilized by adult males. Access to the eggs was regulated through social factors, with young adults having almost no opportunity to reproduce. As the age, and presumably prestige, of an individual increased, so did access to the unfertilized eggs, at least in theory. However, as the individual members of the species were extremely long lived, only the Arch Ancient and his cohorts were allowed to breed on a regular basis; for individuals like Zkauba, despite his rank and ability, the right to visit the brooding ziggurat and pass on his bloodline came only rarely. With each attack decimating the egg-bearing young, it was inevitable that reproduction rights were to be impacted. Yet Zkauba’s interest in the destruction of the young from this particular ziggurat was more significant. It had been in this brood chamber that he and his cohorts had been born and raised, and it was in this chamber that he himself had hoped his gene-line would continue. The brood of the Five Moons was not as prestigious or powerful as those of the Sleeping Eye, to which Buo belonged, but he was proud of their achievements and had no desire to see the line wiped out. The fear of such a disaster, of his brood becoming little more than a memory in annals of history, made Zkauba’s hearts ache, and he stared incessantly at the Five Moons symbol inscribed through branding on the back of each of his squamous hands.

It was in this malaise that a heretical thought instilled itself in Zkauba, if Buo would not plead with the Mother for aid, then he would. Zkauba would arm himself as best he could, and then descend into the fearful depths of the Yaddithan underworld. There, following the signs of the ancient Zkahrnizzen, he who had ascended from the inner world eons ago, Zkauba would find his way to the cavern where dwelt Thaqquallah and plead with the cenobites for an audience with the Goddess in the hopes that she would intervene on behalf of the Nug Soth, and endow upon him the power to strike down the vile and despicable Dholes. As I have said, this was a heretical idea. Zkauba had sworn a pledge to obey Buo, and such oaths were serious matters amongst the Nug Soth. Were he to be caught violating his pledge he would most assuredly forfeit much of his prestige, wealth and rights. I have described Zkauba as a wizard, but if he were to do this thing, were he to violate his pledge he would forever be known as sdantlanws, an oath-breaker, though this is not the best of translations. In English there is a word for such people, though few will know its archaic meaning, though I, as a student of such things, find the title most appropriate: given what forces Zkauba could wield, and what he planned to do, I can think of no better appellation than warlock!

The armourers of the Nug Soth, the Yshhr, are as much artisans as engineers and produced a strange style of battle garb, bejeweled, oblong helmets, baroque gloves, outlandishly fur-trimmed cloaks and seemingly impossible fusions of edged, energy and projectile weapons. Although much of the styling appeared purely decorative, no jewel, no bauble, no crest was without a secondary function. The gems that served as helmet lenses also allowed the wearer to see beyond the normal visual spectrum supplied by his seven eyes. The ceramic armor that covered his chest and limbs not only protected him from attack, but also preserved his body temperature, and rejuvenated the very air and water that he needed to survive. The gauntlets of the lower arms were not only protective, but also served to enhance the ability of the Nug Soth to manipulate energy and matter through simple hand gestures. The gauntlets worn on the upper hands varied in that they formed a kind of symbiotic bond between their wearer and the weapons wielded. Through simple thought the sinistral sword or dextral dagger could be commanded to become energized, or discharge small needle-like projectiles. Additionally the sword, which was not a single blade, but rather more saw-toothed in appearance, could be made to have its teeth whip around the blade like a chain saw. This chain sword was a vicious and most deadly melee weapon, feared for its savagery and deadly results. For the paired limbs he used for legs, there were boots that functioned to deny the very force of gravity, he could not fly, but he could leap farther than normal, walk up walls and even briefly hang from the ceiling. Even the ermine-fringed cape was not without its own secrets. Zkauba referred to the thing as translucent, and by this he meant that when engaged it would allow light to pass through it completely, rendering the wearer not quite invisible, but rather, difficult to notice.

All these accoutrements did the wizard Zkauba don as he prepared for his sin of descending into the underworld. As I have said before, there is no night on Yaddith, and thus there is no period of darkness during which to commit clandestine acts. Thus armed and armored and sheltered by his translucent cloak he made his way through the streets of the city, moving from alleyway to alleyway, from shadow to shadow, slinking between the ductwork and machinery of the alien city until at last he came to the temple house that housed the gate that led down into the subterranean world that lay beneath his very feet. There was fear in his mind as he entered the hall and slid along the wall toward the ornately carved, massive slabs of ebon stone that served as doors to the gate itself. He was cautious, nervous, and his head darted back and forth searching for guardians that would prevent his passage, but there were none. So strong was the conviction to follow the oaths they had sworn, no guard was needed to prevent any from passing through the gate. The guilt and fear returned, perhaps even grew, as he pried one of the great stone panels open. But his mind was set, his course committed to, and as he slipped through and closed the gate behind him, all doubts about his actions faded forever. It may have been better if he had indeed turned back, but hindsight can be cruel, and then and there at the gate, Zkauba did what he felt needed to be done.

The journey downward into the bowels of Yaddith, despite being lit by a species of luminescent fungi, was slow and treacherous. The way was marked with the Zkahrnizzen Sign, but that was no guaranty of safety. The ancient tunnels and crevices that carried him into stygian depths were replete with debris from landslides, rock falls and other signs of geological stress. Foul odors assaulted his senses, mostly sulfurous gas, but also pockets of methane and the occasional wind-borne blast of caustic hydrochloride gas. Such passive perils were not the only threats to challenge the passage of the wizard. Metsis, a kind of centipedal rodent the size of a small dog, haunted the caverns, lapping up sustenance from slime pools and fungi. The larger of these, their mouths full of vicious teeth, were not opposed to threatening Zkauba, and on more than one occasion did he leave the bolder of such creatures mewling as their green blood pumped from gaping wounds. More dangerous were the Eaav, spider-wasps that swarmed over unwary prey overwhelming them through sheer numbers. They coated their victims with strands of webbing that clumped together, making movement at first difficult, and then as the strands accumulated, impossible. The webbing and delicate wings of the Eaav were susceptible to fire, and this proved an effective defense. At least until one of the flame-engulfed swarms careened down into an invisible pocket of methane, sparking an explosion and fireball that threw the wizard across the cavern and into the wall. After this unfortunate event Zkauba grew more circumspect in his dealing with the denizens of the underworld, often waiting hours (and on one occasion nearly a whole day) before proceeding through a particular passageway.

A week after he had left the surface Zkauba reached the gated entrance to the Temple of Thaqquallah. It was a horrid place, filled with vile stenches and heavy air of dubious quality. There were no guards on the gates and as he passed through them none of the attending cenobites rose to greet him. The priests were cloaked in tattered robes of a drab yellow color that hid the entirety of their bodies including their hands and heads. Despite his attempts to converse with them they refused to raise their cowls or even speak, they merely gestured toward the crystalline dome that dominated the great cavern and then scurried off, leaving in their wake the queerest of tracks. The dome was a Moon-Lens, built from the opalescent meteorites that occasionally fall from Sicstu, the fourth moon. Its entryway was decorated with symbols that were strange to me, but Zkauba noted some resemblance to the rune-letters used by the Q’Hrell. It was apparent to both of us that the great lens was the merest outcropping of the prison in which the Mother Goddess had been imprisoned by the Progenitors so many eons before.

Within the interior there was a thin ledge running along the wall. Beneath this there was nothing, simply a vast seething pit of darkness that seemed to reach down to the very core of the world. From the worn rock ledge a single cantilever jutted out leading to a point near the center of the pit where a lone figure lay crucified against an ornate, basaltic gibbet. This individual Zkauba took to be the Seer of Thaqquallah, the Voice of the Mother, and as we approached we could see the thin ropey tendrils that climbed up out of the pit and wrapped themselves around the throat and head of the honored priest. Prepared by the Tablets of Nhing, Zkauba brought forth his dagger and in an act of sacrifice cut open one of his hands, letting the blood filter down through the fetid air until it reached the Divine Matriarch.

The priest shuddered as the tendrils snapped him awake. He was blind, and his body was sickly bloated. There was movement beneath his skin, as if something large was shifting about. He opened his mouth to speak, but the voice did not originate from the Nug Soth equivalent of a voice box. The sound was like a hollow wind, and Zkauba fell to his knees as his god spoke to him. It was not a language he knew, but he needed no translation, he knew what the words meant, for it was the language of the gods, the base language of the universe itself, and even the lowliest of species would recognize it. As he listened, one of his tympanum burst and began to bleed, Zkauba enraptured, ignored the pain.