The Python of Caspia

by Michael Green

  “I know how—back to normal.” Martin said, slowly enunciating every word.

  “How! How do I get this thing out of me?!”

  Martin seemed able to hear his voice, but he shook his head. “First you need to—the door—now or never.”

  Andy tried to pull away, but he felt claws and bony hands hold him fast. “The door!” This time it was Clang’s voice reaching through the roar.

  They pulled him to his feet. He nearly stumbled, trying to find a place where his eyes could rest, but there was nothing.

  They led him to the door. Andy felt dizzy as he stared at the mess of arcing shapes and twisting letters.

  I can’t do this.

  Andy saw a hand come into his field of view. It was Martin. He reached forward and pointed to what might have been the locking mechanism.

  Andy’s eyes focused on what looked like a six-toothed clamp holding the door in place. It feels like I’m sorting through a pile of papers—with my eyes.

  Pieces of door, wall, and mechanism seemed to filter away and the clamp came to the forefront. Each tooth of the clamp was connected to a lever or gear that fitted into an axle in the long hallway.

  Wait—

  Andy realized that all but one of the teeth were disengaged.

  The door is almost open.

  Andy focused on the last tooth and followed the connection of mechanisms. He stepped backward and felt hands keeping him upright. His legs trembled, but he kept track of the axle. It traveled a long way, back down the hall.

  Andy pointed, and felt Clang and Martin help him along. He reached out and grabbed for the axle on the wall, using it as a guide. He looked down for a moment and saw Blue, still incredulous, even as a wireframe mouse.

  Finally, the axle disappeared behind a boulder. Andy felt words passing between his supporters, and saw Clang rush off into the caves.

  Andy leaned against the wall. I just need to take a break—I’ll be ready when he gets back.

  Splayed out on the floor, Andy saw Martin motioning, his hand above his eyes.

  That’s what got me into this mess.

  Martin forced Andy’s hand up. Andy resisted for a moment.

  Martin was right about at least one thing—I have been using the marble incorrectly. Andy relented, and copied the hand gesture.

  With a sudden pop, the roaring noise silenced. He felt the marble resting in his grasp. Everything was back to normal.

  “A little warning next time,” Andy said, letting out a heavy breath and pressing his head against the wall.

  Martin stepped back as Clang and several other goblins arrived with pickaxes.

  A spray of rock shards struck Andy’s face as they tore the boulder to pieces. A moment later, Martin pulled Andy to his feet. “Your eyes went hollow and silver.”

  “But they’re back to normal now?”

  Martin looked closely. “Yes, back to normal. Normal being violet?”

  “Yes, I think,” Andy recalled Dean telling him about his violet eyes. “They are only this color sometimes; I don’t understand it.”

  Martin nodded. “Adolescence. The ryle have studied it in the Seers for centuries.”

  “I get dizzy spells when I see these strange bright colors. Almost nobody else sees them. I thought I was going crazy,” Andy paused and looked around at members of species he had either never heard of or suspected to be a fantasy. He wished it had stopped at crazy colors and dizzy spells.

  Martin grinned, as if sensing Andy’s self-doubt. “They call the colors you are seeing ultra-violet. Encountering these colors prompts your eyes to work harder to see them. The pain and imbalance should go away as you develop. Eventually, you won’t feel a thing. If you ever have to use the Argument like that again, it should be easier; so don’t be afraid.”

  Andy was about to ask another question, but Martin pointed towards the work.

  The goblins were pulling pieces of rock away from the wall. Behind the debris sat a simple lever, as plain as any of the others, though, so far from the door that it was ridiculous.

  Andy reached down and flipped it. A crack echoed in the hall. They watched the door swing open on its own.

  Everyone stood in silence. Disbelief rang through the air.

  They’ve been staring at this door for who knows how long?

  The first person to speak was Blue. “Anyone could have done that!”

  Martin ignored the complaint and looked to Clang. “We’re going in, but only the sharpest. Someone wears a chime harness—make sure it’s the repaired one. Leave a few guards at the gate, we don’t want any incompetents following,” Martin spoke seriously, as if certain of imminent danger.

  Clang nodded and relayed the orders to his underlings, who rushed off with gleeful glints in their eyes. “If we’re quick, there’s no needing suicide assault on gates.”

  Andy nodded and saw Blue climb up on Martin.

  “Not now, Blue, I need to focus.”

  Blue jumped down and looked over at Andy. They both stared awkwardly at each other. Andy shrugged and pointed to his shoulder.

  Blue climbed up, slipping momentarily on Andy’s greave, before coming to rest on his shoulder. “I don’t like it any more than you do, surfacer.”

  “I’m used to it.” Andy said, watching Martin, who, once all the orders were given, started stretching and focusing his breathing. Andy hadn’t expected yoga either.

  A few seconds later, it was difficult to pinpoint where Martin ended and the wall behind him began.

  “What do you mean? How are you used to it?” Blue asked, almost angrily.

  Distracted by Martin, Andy answered with little thought, “My friends, Titus—and Taptalles—they like to ride up there too.”

  After a moment, Andy realized that Blue hadn’t responded. He strained his neck to get a look at the mouse, who wouldn’t meet his eye. Andy worried that he might have insulted him somehow.

  “I—” Andy was cut short by a sudden bustle from all around. Dozens of armed and armored goblins moved forward and past him. They all came up to about his waist. Andy saw Clang pushing here and there, looking at their equipment and armament and making the occasional critique.

  “Blade’s dull,” he said to one, “strap on helmet,” to another, and “get outside, you incompetent!” to a third, who stumbled in a rush to leave.

  After his inspection, the goblins with shields took the front positions and those behind chose short spears from the collection of weapons that each kept strapped to their bodies.

  “What’s the plan, Clang?” The silent and businesslike demeanor of the goblins had an effect, because Andy realized that he was whispering.

  Clang pointed ahead. “That way—then we looks about.”

  Andy felt a tugging at his shoulder, and at first thought it was Blue, but after turning, he realized it was his cloak. It was snagged. Andy bent to loosen it, but found it wasn’t stuck to anything. A thick string was trailing off behind him. Andy pulled on it, but found it taught, possibly stuck under someone’s foot.

  “Clang—” Andy gestured to his problem. Clang pulled a knife from his hip and cut the string, it took him a few heavy cuts to get through. “Thanks.”

  Clang grunted softly and unhooked the scabbard that went with the knife, before handing them to Andy.

  “Won’t you need it?” Andy asked, running the scabbard loop through his belt.

  “I got plenty,” Clang said. Andy had a quick look and saw it wasn’t a boast. Clang had at least four knives that Andy could see. Boot, ankle, wrist, and an extra at the hip.

  Andy inspected his new knife. It was clean and even looked sharp, and if it weren’t for a few pits in the blade, he would have thought it was brand new. When he sheathed it, Andy realized the blade had been sharpened so often in its life that it was noticeably thinner than the scabbard, which was lined with cotton to keep it fitting snugly.

  There was a slight tinkling. He turned and saw a goblin wearing a large harness covered in chimes, muc
h like the ones he had seen in Caspia.

  Clang made an angry face at this goblin. “Takka—silence the bones!” He said in a harsh whisper.

  Takka carefully checked the network of threads he had wrapped around his wrist. Andy inspected the design and saw that each thread ran through a series of metal eyelets on the harness to its rank of chimes. A thick cord, of maybe fifty separate threads, converged at the waist, and was tied off at his wrist. Takka hunted for a cord that wasn’t completely taut.

  If even one thread is loose, the connected chimes are free to make noise. Keeping them taut is like a mute button—a really bad mute button. Takka followed a thread to a chime on his shoulder and found slack. He carefully tightened the offending thread and gave a signal to Clang. Clang nodded, but looked to Andy, concerned. Clang wasn’t pleased, but, barring Takka, the rest looked dauntless.

  A soft click came from Martin, and the whole procession moved forward.

  It was dark on the other side of the gate, but Andy saw that gears and levers lined the wall here as well. He hoped there weren’t any switches on this side, and imagined a goblin accidentally tripping one and locking them in.

  The goblins further ahead called back in nearly silent clicks and chirps. Clang often replied with gestures. Andy thought they must have been able to see in the darkness, as he struggled to take a single step.

  Small detachments broke off from the group to search side passages and chambers. Andy stepped into one room and nearly slammed into a giant rack of bottles before realizing he had found a wine cellar. Thousands of bottles were so covered in dust that it looked like a gray snowstorm had hit the place.

  Further ahead, the party came upon a stairwell.

  Andy paused when he felt a claw on his shoulder. He nearly jumped, but realized it was Martin. The fox face appeared before him. “I suspect this is the only way up.” He looked to Clang. “Wait five minutes, then follow silently. If you can clear this floor in that time, do so, if not, advance.”

  Clang nodded. “What if there are many floors?”

  “I will do this,” Martin raked a claw on a cornerstone at the stairwell. Three diagonal lines stood out clearly on the rock. “If you see this, the floor is safe to inspect—but only for five minutes, then advance. If there are no markings, expect enemies. If I have time, I’ll leave you a message.”

  Martin’s face shifted into nothingness. Andy strained to hear his silent steps up the stairs, but all he heard was the slow, regular breathing of the goblins.

  He’s going to scout out every floor. The mountain fortress was well above the cave we started in. Who knows how many floors there are?

  They waited in silence for the agonizing five minutes. Clang tapped two of his teeth together, making a slight click. The party moved up the stairs. Andy stayed back until they passed. Afraid that his relative blindness would upset their advance, he fell back to the rear. One goblin stayed behind to keep an eye on him.

  Maybe I can use the marble.

  Andy readied the marble and gripped it. A glow appeared but then the blade flickered, lighting the space around. The goblin jumped in fright, shielding his eyes. He gestured wildly for Andy to stop.

  A little less pressure.

  Andy loosened his grip, and the blade disappeared, but a softer glow still filled the hall.

  Perfect.

  Andy looked at the goblin questioningly. The goblin still seemed annoyed, but noticeably less so.

  “That’s better.” A voice said in his ear.

  Andy nearly jumped out of his shoes. The blade exploded from his hand and blinding light filled the hall. Andy realized that it was only Blue, who was sitting so quietly on his shoulder that Andy had forgotten he was there. He relaxed and dulled the light.

  “Blinded me!” The goblin whispered angrily, reaching out to find the wall.

  “Damned foolish thing to do,” Blue complained in his ear.

  “I didn’t mean—you’ve been so quiet that—forget it.”

  Andy grabbed the goblin and put him on his free shoulder and took the stairs two at a time to catch up with the others.

  At the next floor Andy found Clang listening to reports from his scouts. Clang glared at Andy’s glowing fist, and the goblin draped over his shoulder, but said nothing.

  Andy leaned in and whispered. “I’ll turn it off on a dangerous floor—until there’s a fight, then I’ll need it to see.”

  Clang rolled his eyes. “No light if I say so.” Clang gestured at him with two fingers pointed down. “If you see that, make dark.”

  “Sure.” Andy considered the new floor. “Dusty.”

  Clang nodded. “No tracks anywhere—dead spaces these—many years.” Clang ran a finger across the floor and pulled up a thick layer of dust.

  “Can I,” Andy pointed to a doorway, “look around?”

  “Fast peek—we move soon.”

  Andy strained his neck to get a look at Blue, who made no protest.

  Blue’s an odd one; I don’t know when he’s going to be mad, or when he’ll be fine. I wonder what he did to get exiled.

  Andy took a quick left and entered a barracks. He saw bunk-beds stacked three high. Chests sat at the foot of each bed, and some stuck out from underneath the bottom bunks. A few bunks still had sheets tucked in beneath the topmost mattress, to provide privacy for those below. It reminded him of fun times at home, building forts out of the couch pillows and bedsheets. Sadly, these were moth-eaten and tattered.

  He touched one of the sheets and felt it crumble in his fingers.

  Behind the crumbled sheet, on the central mattress, lay a tunic, trousers, and leather armor elements. A curious sea creature, like an ornamental bottlenose dolphin, was emblazoned on the chest piece. A helmet completely covered in thin, green rust sat nearby, the many white hairs of its plume lay a few inches beneath where they belonged on the comb. They looked like leaves long since fallen, but never blown away.

  Andy reached out for the helmet, but heard a click.

  That’s Clang.

  He turned and nearly tripped. His cloak had been unraveling again, and his foot was caught in a taught thread that led back to the doorway.

  “This useless cloak!” Andy growled, struggling to stay quiet.

  “I’ll get it—” Blue said, sliding down what remained of his cloak. It looked a bit shorter than it was when he started. “Humans—” Blue muttered as he chewed through the thread, “can’t do a thing right—and we’re the lesser civilization.”

  “I didn’t ask you—” Blue stared at him with a furrowed brow and angry eyes, “but thanks.”

  The thread snapped, and Andy hurried back to the stairs, with Blue mumbling the whole way.

  The last few goblins were mounting the stairs. Andy took his place behind Takka, who was sweating in his harness. Andy watched him take each stair carefully, mindful of his potentially catastrophic clothing. His hands ran across the threads, softly plucking and checking for tautness.

  What are we going to find in here anyway? Slithers, more brutox? Maybe a ryle?

  On each of the next dozen floors they found Martin’s mark. Every time they spotted it, Andy felt relieved, though he sensed the goblins were eager for a fight.

  Andy explored when he could. He walked through libraries, armories, more barracks, alchemical laboratories, and even storage rooms full of food that had long since rotted to dust.

  Who built this place? It must be centuries old, at least, and what does Pythia want here?

  At the thirteenth floor, Andy paused and spotted Martin’s marking. Clang had seen it and had sent the scouts to explore. Reflecting, Andy was glad he didn’t have to lead the goblins. Martin and Clang were qualified and held their loyalty. He would have been treated like another marshal. Andy shuddered at the thought of being that useless.

  Better a third wheel than a hated incompetent.

  Andy peeked into a high-ceilinged room. It was filled with symbols written in arcane sequences. They covered the floor and walls
, though the room was otherwise bare of furnishing.

  Andy looked at Blue questioningly. Blue shrugged, “Ancient mysticism involved symbology—a few quacks still practice it.”

  Andy nodded, noting these symbols weren’t like the painful script he associated with the ryle. “Does it work? I mean, when they try to cast spells—does anything happen?”

  Blue ruffled. “I don’t care to talk about religion.”

  Andy had heard this answer once too often. “What does it have to do with religion? I already know that magic—of a kind at least,” he looked at his glowing fist, “magic exists, it’s a fact now. But, do symbols like these,” he gestured around the large room, “actually affect the real world?”

  “There’s no such thing as magic—oh great leader—that Argument you found only allows you to wield it because you’re committed. Worse yet, you’re committed to the failed side—if you didn’t already know.” Blue laughed. “You see a blade no one else can wield, a glow that comes at will, and you can even take the Argument to eye and see beyond. All of this assures you that it is good. You have no idea what kind of enemies you make by doing so. You think the Viper needs you? I assume she made some deal with you—” Andy stared blankly. “Thought so. Don’t believe for a moment that she couldn’t wield the Argument if she cared to. She knows better.”

  Andy was speechless.

  “It’s rude to go flaunting your commitment publicly. People don’t want to see that—it’s an embarrassment from a painful past,” He huffed, stuttering on his words. “Flash-in-the-pan upstarts like you descend every few decades—and you’ve no idea of anything, and then the Usurper finds you and—” Blue clenched his paws around Andy’s collar and squeezed. “We’re trying to move on!”

  Did I make a terrible choice when I picked up the marble? Wait—every few decades?

  Andy let Blue calm down, before asking, “How old are you, Blue?”

  Blue suddenly loosened his grip, surprised by the question. “I stopped counting—what’s it to you?”

  Hmmm.

  Andy hazarded a cautious guess. “You aren’t over one hundred, are you?”

  Blue shuffled on his shoulder awkwardly, “Well it’s my fur—everyone always thinks I’m young.”