“You blighted little toad,” he spat. His arms began to lengthen with fingers like claws and pointed troll ears sprouted off the sides of his head. “You are a worthy challenge, Fane.” He laughed as his legs melded together, elongating into a serpentine wind. Black, shimmering scales popped out on the serpent tail and spikes cropped up along the spine as the tail continued to stretch. “I haven’t finished with you yet.”
I could not move. I could not speak. I stood petrified, unable to take my eyes off the horrible transmogrification taking place.
The serpent tail broke into three forks. Leathery wings issued forth just below the head—Jink’s head—and upon each fork of the tail, other heads began to emerge. The hulg’s graced one, Seret’s another, and the third fork held the head of the witch.
I backed against the wall of the cave in terror.
“You killed us all,” Larque’s mouth spoke.
“You killed us all, younker,” spoke the hulg.
The head of Seret roared.
“You killed us all,” Jink’s image said at the head of the demon, the viperine monstrosity hovering before me, slithering through the air.
“Go away,” I choked out, breath stuck in my throat, and in spite of the cold, I was dripping sweat.
The serpent backed off and the Jink head smiled. “I will go away for now,” it said. “But I will be back. Enjoy your search for the gold.”
The beast slithered through the air, out the mouth of the cave, and was gone.
11
Shadowland
I collapsed to the floor of the cave, panting for breath through my terror. Shivering, I crawled for the fire, but even its warmth did not vanquish my chills. I have said before, I am not always quick-witted. The sparks had been sparking for days and I had ignored them.
It had been Ragg. It had been Ragg all along. It had never been Jink. It had never been Larque. Only the trolls had been real. The trolls had been very real. And Ragg, too, was real, no matter in what form he appeared.
I could have given the crystal to Jink. I would have. If only he had reached out and touched me, I would have handed it over.
I clutched my talisman with both hands. Ragg could not touch me. He could deceive me, he could loose trolls on me, he could feed me, he could starve me. But he could not touch me and he could not kill me and there was some small consolation in that.
Why had he brought me here? Surely not for the gold. It was inconceivable that he would lead me to it. But then again, perhaps that was what he wanted me to believe. Perhaps he had shown me just where the treasure lay. Perhaps he had believed he could gull me into handing the talisman over, thus enabling him to touch me, to kill me, and therefore had no qualms about showing me where his treasure truly lay. But how could I believe him? How could I believe anything he said?
He had almost pulled it off. He had almost made me believe.
I returned to the dark recesses of the cave and peered into the black hole. Where did the stairway lead? Why did Ragg want me to go down there? Or why didn’t he? It was so bloody dark! Could I actually bring myself to go down there, if indeed, that was where I needed to go?
Feeling my way through the utter blackness, I stepped onto the top step. Slowly, I descended down the next three. The darkness was so thick it surged forth, completely smothering me. I dashed back up to the relative light of the cave, heart pounding.
I would wait. I would wait until Ragg returned and see if I could glean a clue as to what the truth might be.
Over the next three days, I grew still weaker. My belly begged for food and the sores on my chest stole my waning strength. I would sweat until I was drenched and then shiver with chill, unable to get warm. Even breathing began to take too much effort. I had deigned to eat another portion of the roasted troll, but now the taste left an unsavory flavor in my mouth that wouldn’t disappear.
When Ragg did return, he appeared in the form of Jink.
I stared past him, flexing my fists, not wanting to acknowledge his presence. Angry that he could so easily assume the image of my dead friend.
“It seems you’re acquiring a taste for troll,” he said. “That’s good. Perhaps the wolfocks aren’t the only ones to make some usage of the improper little beasties.”
I refused to respond.
“You can refuse to speak if you wish. It matters not to me. I only appeared in this form because it seemed to please you. Although this one excited you.”
Out of the corner of my eye I could see he had changed and I glanced over to see Larque’s naked body where Jink had been.
“Or maybe you prefer this form,” Ragg said. And, as I watched, Larque became Selma.
I gazed at Selma’s likeness and it struck me then how much I truly missed Avar. And as Selma stood before me, Ragg transformed again, and I dropped to my knees, unable to stand.
“Mother!” I gasped.
Her image looked as fresh and beautiful as she did before she’d died five years ago. It caused my heart to tear in two. And yet I knew this vision before me was not my mother. It was nothing that my mother had ever been, for it was a worldly beast, ruthless and unyielding in its contempt for me.
“Why don’t you wear your true face, Ragg? Why don’t you show me who you really are?”
“Someday I may show you my true face, Fane.” He was speaking now as Kael. “But I enjoy trying on new forms and your memories are a refreshing cache of new experiences.” Now I was listening to a bronze noggin, brimming with ale. The noggin turned into a great horned owl, and he stared at me with unblinking, round eyes. “This is how I appeared the first night I saw you,” he said. “I felt the presence of the crystal then, but knew not which one of you wore it until you revealed it. And I really thought you’d never make it beyond Larque. She was always so truly efficient. I instructed her to get the crystal from you and thought no more about it. Until you killed her. Then you became of more consequence.”
The owl sighed. “Then it was my hulg. I valued my hulg. He was loyal and could be trusted, unlike Seret and Larque. I knew of their passion for one another and their loyalties were not given wholly to me. And I knew of their plot against me. I always allowed Seret to believe he could keep his thoughts from me, but he could not. I was curious as to how far the three of you might get, so I watched and waited.” The owl became a gray, rippled stone. “Larque and Seret were undone by their lust and greed and your unfortunate companion was caught in the middle. Now all that is left is you, and I’ve enjoyed toying with you, Fane.”
Toying with me. Yes, he had been toying with me. Now, perhaps I would toy with him. I pointed to the rear of the cave. “Where does the stairway lead?”
The gray, rippled stone became Jink. “It leads to nowhere.”
“Then if I went down it, I would be nowhere?”
“In a manner of speaking.” Ragg shrugged his shoulders. “You’d be somewhere, but not anywhere you’d want to be. And if you go down, you might never come back up.”
“So the gold isn’t down there?”
Ragg laughed. “There is no gold, Fane. It is a myth.”
I feigned remorse. “Wae! Then all this has been in vain?” He had warned me against the stairwell and told me there was no gold, so I had to assume the treasure was at the bottom of the steps. Most surely, it had to be.
Ragg changed into an eagle. “If you be good and stay in the cave, I’ll see about bringing you something more substantial to eat than troll.” With that, he flew out of the cave, soaring off through the mist.
Grumbling, I returned to the fire. “Be good and stay in the cave.” However much I didn’t want to do it, I knew what I had to do. The wounds the lion had dealt me were bad enough—Ragg had only made them worse having me burn them. If I didn’t find the gold soon, the twice-poisoned sores would kill me.
After fashioning a torch from cave sedge, moss, and troll fat, I strode across the cave and stared into the darkness. The torch flame glowed upon the dank, slick steps that led to indete
rminable depths. I could not let this darkness keep me from what I needed. My very life depended upon what was hidden down there.
Gathering the remainder of my courage and taking a deep breath, I started down.
The corridor was steep and narrow, my torch illumining the walls, wet with beaded moisture. The dank, thick air held a heady earthiness that clung to my mouth and nostrils, making it hard to breathe as I proceeded down endless, spiraling steps that lowered me deep into the bowels of Skur.
“Fane,” I whispered, “you’d better hope Ragg was truly lying,” fighting the urge to beat a retreat back to the relative comfort of the cave.
Already my torch was burning low when I finally reached the bottom step and the corridor branched in two. The light from my torch wouldn’t last long and I knew I had to make a decision. I didn’t want to be caught down here with no light, so needed to either continue on, or go back. But I had made it this far. It only made sense to go on, though neither tunnel looked particularly promising.
Choosing the one on my sword-arm side, I eased through it over the spongy, moss-carpeted floor, and before long, the wretched corridor forked again. Once more choosing my sword-arm side, I ambled on, praying the welcome light of the torch wouldn’t abandon me too soon for I might not be able to find my way back to the stairwell in the pitch of this underworld.
The fire of my torch was a mere soft glow, emitting more comfort than light when I stumbled over something in my path. As I fell to the floor, the torch clattered beside me, sputtering in the moist darkness. Its faint light barely revealed something in the center of the corridor—something golden.
“The treasure.” Groping for it on my hands and knees, my hand recoiled when I touched it, for it was cold and wet and soft and smelled of death. I brought my weary torch close. The dim illumination exposed the form of a dog—a yellow dog, half eaten and decomposed, squirming with maggots.
Bitterly, the torch clung to life, but could survive no longer, dying a slow, hissing death and I shrieked, “No!” waving the dying light about, but it was useless. It deserted me and I was engulfed in utter darkness beside the rotting carcass of the dog.
I had to get out of here! I scrambled to my feet and slammed into the clammy wall. I clutched at it, feeling its reality in the empty darkness, and began to work my way down the corridor like a blind man, not even sure anymore which direction I was going, for indeed, I was a blind man, plunged into a cold, damp, black, unknown world.
“Troll food,” I groaned. The dog was troll food and I knew I would be next. I was lost in these lightless underground corridors and would never find my way out again.
My breath came sharp and fast as my chest thumped and my feet raced me down the corridor and I kept smashing into the unseen walls until the slippery moss toppled me. Then I began to crawl, realizing I had bitten through my bottom lip when the salty taste of blood filled my mouth.
Why had I come down here? Ragg had wanted me to come down here! He had known I would do contrary to what he said, so led me to believe the treasure was truly here, yet there was nothing here. He had spoken the truth, knowing I would not believe. There was nothing here but darkness and slime. And to be sure, trolls.
Where were the debased little creatures? Were they lurking behind me, waiting for me to tire so that they could creep up on me and do what they will? A chill ran up my spine at the sound of their cackles and brays like a distant echo and I clamped my hands over my ears, trying to shut off the sound. Then all I could hear was the pounding pulse of my heart.
“Laugh and endure, Fane. Laugh and endure.” My words hung in the air like smoke. “Ha ha ha.” The forced laughter was an obvious mockery and through the laughter’s aftermath, the echo of trolls remained and that sound assured me a new fear, greater even than the darkness—it was not my imagination.
Yet that sound held an odd comfort, for it also meant life, holding some semblance to reality. It gave me a small burst of courage, and I began to crawl toward the sound. On all fours, I made my way down the black tunnel, the echo of trolls growing louder as a faint, gray glow emanated in the distance. I struggled back to my feet and hurried for the light.
The tunnel ended at a curve and beyond the curve was the source of the light. And the trolls.
I peeked around the corner. Behind me lay the labyrinth of unlit corridors, one of which led back to the world of true light. Before me surely lay Shadowland.
All was bleak, murky and gray, with a lusterless light issuing from the earth below. Overhead was a black, starless sky, the air piquant and hazy. As far as my eyes could see in the gloom, the land was marked with rocky, jagged outcroppings and shallow craters. At the base of the outcropping near the entrance of the tunnel I cowered in, sat a gaggle of corpulent trolls, many of whom were children.
The young were skinny, unclean, and unreserved, gamboling and snickering and chittering noisily. Some suckled at mother troll breasts, and some suckled each other’s noses. One large troll sat all alone, moaning and clutching its protruding belly, obviously in pain, yet the others paid it no heed.
Gazing back at the tunnel behind me, I despaired. Now what was I to do? The blackness was absolute and seemed to move forward, reaching out to grab me back into its smothering bosom. There was no escaping the darkness except into Shadowland.
The fat troll in pain shrieked, and I turned and watched in amazement as it gave birth. The troll pulled the squalling infant to its breast, bit off the umbilical cord, and proceeded to eat the afterbirth. Then it licked the infant clean and I assumed it would probably be the only time in the tiny troll’s life that it would ever be clean, for I could only imagine its mother licked it merely out of her own taste for gore.
Again, I looked behind me. Like a living foe, the darkness continued to advance. I couldn’t stay inside the tunnel or that darkness would drag me back, so I took a small step into Shadowland. The dark surged forth, totally engulfing the tunnel. I had gotten out just in time.
Except for the cries of the newborn, the trolls fell silent. The young scurried behind the protection of their mothers. All eyes watched me.
With equal pensiveness, I watched them in return as I eased my way out further into Shadowland, trying to anticipate a plan of defense should they decide to attack. I moved steadily away, never taking my eyes off them. They made no overt moves, merely stared back, and soon I was clear, beyond the rocks that now hid them from my view. Only then did I exhale deeply.
Could the treasure possibly be here? It seemed unlikely, but still I held hope. My chest burned and itched but I refrained from touching it, knowing it would only inflame the ever-present pain. My legs were growing steadily weaker and nothing seemed quite real anymore.
I knew not where to go or even why I had chosen to come here instead of simply retreating back up the tunnel. I should go back. I knew I should go back, but if the gold was here, the gold would save me and my feet kept carrying me deeper into the gray until it was impossible to go back for I was lost in the dismal wilderness.
Before me, from some unseen corridor, there suddenly appeared something plump and white, like a wad of uncooked biscuit. It walked before me on two legs, not unlike a man, though not quite like a man, and it seemed to moan from its very core with every laborious step it managed to take, as if in a most ungodly agony. Slowly, it brought its head around and I reeled back and cried out in horror. The creature had no face! Yet it stared long upon me as if it did. Had I the ability to run, I would’ve done so, but my waning strength only allowed me a hastened shuffle and I put as much distance between us as possible.
Before long, I conjectured there were hidden passageways all around, doors I could not see or pass through, but the wraiths of Shadowland could, for I would be alone in the dismal gray amid smothering silence when suddenly some creature would pass from one doorway in my field of view, only to disappear moments later into another. Great fear that I might stumble through one of these invisible doors caused my heart to palpitate. But had I
already been passing through them unbeknownst? Oh, if ever I achieved freedom from this wretched world I would forever leave Ragg’s lair behind, return to Avar as quickly as I could and do whatever my father wished of me! Fith could foist the lure of magic and realms of the seen and the unseen and his desire for gold upon some other young fool.
My strength was growing ever dim and I stopped to rest beside a brackish pool of steaming, hissing water that stank like the sulfur in my tinderbox. Though I was parched I could not drink from the wretched pool. Then suddenly, from the air beside me, came the whispers. Again I fled into the gray yet still there were whispers. Everywhere there were whispers, as if I was not truly alone, but constantly surrounded by a host of unseen companions, and their presence kept my skin prickled with fear.
It appeared before me then, a jagged outline of gray with blood-red lips and emerald eyes, nearly square in shape with six arms. It stepped toward me and there beside it appeared another, then another, and another still until I was surrounded in their midst and their incessant whispers grew loud, like the hum inside a hive. I had to cover my ears. Nearly in unison, the wraiths all turned at once and vanished. The hum receded into faint whispers. Then, again they appeared with stiff, wooden movements, jerking, these mere shades—simple one-sided creatures, for when they turned they seemed to vanish, but turned again and became visible. And all the while they whispered. They whispered.
Without warning, everything went deathly silent, which frightened me more than the whispers. In the distance I could hear what sounded like thunder. The ground shook. I saw it then and with a shriek, turned to flee. A horde of trolls was stampeding in my direction. Above them swooped and darted several dozen wolfocks that dove and latched onto their prey with claws like glowing iron. The beasts would rip into the throats of the captured trolls before dropping them back to the ground in pursuit of another.
The trolls overtook me and I was caught in the midst of this fleeing horde. The clang of a talon ripped through my fur vest and smashed against the back of my breastplate. Fear propelled my feet faster, but they soon left the ground as I was lifted up. Wriggling free of my vest, I stumbled back onto the gray, glowing dirt. The wolfock flew off, still clutching my vest.
The Legacy of Skur: Volume One Page 13