torg 03- The Nightmare Dream

by Jonatha Ariadne Caspian

  When the firing stopped, Mara looked back. The monsters had fallen apart. Insect carcasses were scattered all around them.

  One of the soldiers stepped forward. He was an older man, a little on the portly side, with a great white handlebar mustache that drooped around his mouth. He called to the group. "I say, would any of you happen to be Tolwyn of House Tancred?"

  Mara and Tolwyn exchanged glances, shrugged, and turned to face the man.

  "I am Tolwyn," the paladin said. "We thank you for your assistance. How did you stop the insect things?"

  The man laughed. It was a rich, good-humored sound. "Blessed bullets work wonders against the things of darkness," he explained. "I am General Wellington of Her Majesty's Army. We have been sent to find you."

  "Why?" Mara asked.

  "We have been ordered to escort you out of this foul jungle to a place of safety," the general replied.

  "Ordered? By who?" Tolwyn demanded.

  "Why, by Lord Salisbury, of course," the general answered.

  "This must be Thratchen's doing," Mara said in low (ones so that only her friends could hear.

  "Should we go?" Tolwyn asked, seeking advice from the others.

  "If Thratchen wanted to kill us, he wouldn't have to go through this kind of trouble," Tom said.

  "I agree," Mara added. "I think he wants us to reach

  Aysle."

  Tolwyn nodded. "Very well, General," she called. "We accept your offer."

  13

  Djil led the way, stopping often to talk to a tree or study the rocks along the ground. He seemed to be listening to them, hearing things that Bryce could not. The priest would have laughed at such thoughts a few months ago, but not now. He had heard the song of the Earth itself, as sung by the Heart of Coyote. If the planet had a voice, why couldn't the smaller components have one as well?

  "What's he doing, Father?" Toolpin inquired.

  "He's scouting," Bryce said. "What's it look like he's doing?"

  "Talking to the plants," Toolpin said. "Hey Djil, what are the plants saying?"

  The aborigine turned to the dwarf with a toothy grin. "Plants have very little to say, Toolpin. They are boring, only concerned with water and soil and sun. But this tree limb tells me much."

  Bryce and Toolpin edged closer, curiosity getting the better of them. "What's it say?" Bryce asked.

  Djil leaned close to the priest, his voice hushed to a conspiratorial whisper. "The trees don't speak, Father Bryce. I thought you knew that."

  The priest reddened. "Then what are you doing?"

  "Lookmg for signs of passage, and I found this," Djil said triumphantly, holding aloft a piece of cloth.

  "Hey," Toolpin exclaimed, "that belongs to Pluppa!"

  "Then they came this way," Bryce joined excitedly. "We're going the right way!"

  Djil nodded. Then he pointed to the broken branches further up the tree. "The chthon have come this way, too."

  A loud crashing sound echoed from the jungle behind them. The trio watched silently for a moment, then heard the sound again. This time it was closer.

  "Something's coming," Toolpin warned.

  "Let's get moving, Djil," Bryce urged. "I'm not sure I want to see what else Markham has to throw at us."

  14

  Tolwyn felt uneasy around these people. They called themselves Victorians, and they claimed to come from Orrorsh. They were here in the jungles of this New World hunting down the evil things they had inadvertently released upon it, the general said, but even though his tone was sincere thfere was something about them that bothered the paladin.

  The chaplain attached to the unit was a small, tired-looking man who tried his best to bolster the soldiers with fiery talk, but it came out weak to Tolwyn's ears. The soldiers themselves seemed nervous, constantly scanning the jungle for any signs of danger. When she saw their darting eyes, Tolwyn knew why she felt uneasy. These people lived their lives as hunted prey, food for the legions of monsters that stalked Orrorsh. She pitied them.

  "Where are you taking us, General Wellington?" Tolwyn asked.

  The general gave her a suspicious glance, then smiled jovially. "We have a vessel waiting for us on the coast. With it, we will take you to the city called Singapore. From there you should be able to find transportation out of Orrorsh realm, as per Lord Salisbury's instructions."

  "What about our friends?" Mara asked. "Are you going to send anyone back there to look for them?"

  The general shook his head sadly. "I do not have the manpower to launch a full-scale search, and I do have a time limit. I must get you on your way so that I can carry out the rest of my duties."

  They walked in silence for a time, with soldiers ahead and behind them. Tolwyn wondered if they were being protected, or if the soldiers were positioned to keep them from running off on their own. The paladin noticed Pluppa looking back the way they came. She had been turning her head for the last few minutes, sometimes even stopping as if to listen. Finally, she tugged on Tolwyn's sleeve.

  "Something is following us," Pluppa said. "It makes no attempt to muffle its progress."

  Tolwyn glanced back, but could see nothing through the covering of trees. She looked at Pluppa again. The dwarf was sincere. She did hear something.

  "General Wellington," Tolwyn called to the front of the column. "Something is approaching us from out of the jungle."

  "What?" the general exclaimed in surprise. "Are you sure, woman?"

  "She's right, sir," one of the soldiers near the rear said. "Something's coming this way."

  'Take defensive positions, men," Wellington ordered. "Chaplain, prepare your miracles."

  "I will take that," Tolwyn said, nimbly drawing a sword out of one of the soldier's scabbards. He was about to complain when three figures leaped out of the brush.

  "Don't shoot, general," Mara ordered. "Those are our missing companions."

  Tolwyn let relief wash through her body. There were Bryce, Djil and Toolpin, looking ragged but otherwise safe and whole.

  "Not missing anymore, I'd wager," the general laughed. "Now if that's all of you, we'd best be moving on."

  "I hate to ruin this reunion with bad news," Bryce said quickly, "but there's something chasing us."

  Tolwyn heard trees snapping further back in the jungle as something large moved toward them. She motioned Bryce and the others to get out of the way, and they moved to a position behind the soldiers.

  "Any idea what it is, mates?" (General Wellington asked."

  "No, but we're pretty sure it belongs to a necromancer named Markham," Bryce replied.

  "Wilfred Markham?" the general said in surprise. "Of the Royal Society of Exploration? A necromancer? I don't believe it!"

  Soldiers all along the line gasped in horror. What emerged from the jungle was a monstrosity, a walking nightmare. It was a skeletal beast, perhaps three meters at the shoulders, perhaps more. It walked on four skeleton legs, and moved its skeletal jaws in mock roars. To Tolwyn's eyes it looked like a huge tiger whose flesh and organs had been stripped away. What remained was cobbled together with the bones of other dead creatures to form a dragon-sized monster.

  "Fire!" Wellington ordered, and his men sent a volley

  of bullets toward the monster.

  The blessed missiles clattered off bone, ricocheting in .ill directions. The monster let out another silent roar, t hen continued forward. It had an awkward gait befitting its haphazard construction, but it still looked menacing — and very deadly.

  It strutted into the first nest of Victorian soldiers, jerkily dropping two boney feet forward, then following them with its other two. The four soldiers tried to scatter before the monster, but it was faster than its size and awkward manner suggested. One of its front legs slashed out, and boney claws sliced two of the men open. A third was caught in its powerful jaws. It lifted the man into the air, shaking him violently as its sharp teeth sank deeper into his flesh. Fountains of blood gushed forth, and presently the man stopped jerking and
fell still.

  "If you don't want to see more of your soldiers die, general, I suggest you give the travelers to me," called a voice from out of the jungle.

  Tolwyn tried to see where the voice was coming from, but its owner remained hidden. She contemplated rushing at the monster, even though the bullets fired from the soldiers' guns had had little effect. You needed enchanted weapons to deal with skeletons and other undead creatures, she knew, and the sword she borrowed from the Victorian had no dweomer upon it that she could divine.

  Still, she could not sit idle while others died trying to protect her. That was not what Tolwyn of House Tancred was all about. She started to move from her position when she noticed Grim also moving. He literally crackled with energy, and his hair and beard were standing on end from the static. He had a spell upon him, one that she had not seen before — at least as far as she

  remembered.

  (.n m stepped out of hiding, waving his fingers at the skeletal tiger. Then he spoke a word of power. To tolwyn, it sounded like thunder. The thunder rocked her, and she gasped as a bolt of lightning flew from Grim's outstretched fingers in response to the clap of noise. The bolt found its mark, playing a frantic dance along the naked bones of the monster. The skeletal golem fell back a few steps, opening its jaws in its familiar pantomime of a roar. The limp form of the torn and bloody soldier dropped to the ground as its jaws spread wide, but it didn't seem to care. It wanted only to be free of the dancing lightning.

  "Back to the depths of corruption, foul creature!" Grim shouted, waving his fingers and firing another bolt into the monster.

  The second bolt struck its right shoulder, disintegrating the bone in a sizzle of sparks. The skeleton staggered, almost fell, then with great effort righted itself and leaped toward the crackling dwarf.

  The dwarf smiled triumphantly and made ready to cast another bolt. Before he could speak the word of power that would send it on its way, a glowing black dagger of light shot out of the jungle and struck the dwarf. Grim screamed, collapsing to the ground.

  Meanwhile, the skeleton landed over the dwarf, peering down at him with hollow eye sockets. It moved even more awkwardly than before because of its ruined shoulder, and it seemed slower since being hit by two bolts of magic lightning, but it was still capable of great destruction.

  Grim was not yet helpless, however. He was struggling to rise when another black dagger flew from the jungle and sliced into him. It caused no visible

  wound, but like its twin the enchanted missile seemed to sap the very life from its target. Tolwyn traced its path kick into the trees and noticed a black shape partially hidden behind a huge trunk. She grabbed a nearby soldier and pointed into the trees.

  For a moment, the soldier was confused. He did not . i • anything. Then, following her finger, he nodded. He raised his rifle to his shoulder, aimed down the length of I he barrel, and fired. The bullet struck the dark form, and Tolwyn watched as it jerked and went down.

  "Finish it, Grim," Tolwyn ordered as she charged toward the tree line.

  The dwarf, still on his back and sorely hurt, looked at I lie skeletal monster looming over him. Then he fired his last two bolts in quick succession. The twin bolts of jagged lightning shattered the skull and rib cage of the the creature, and shards of bone rained down on the dwarf.

  Tolwyn watched with satisfaction as the skeleton fell apart. She reached the jungle a moment later, but the dark form was gone. All that remained as proof of its presence was a bit of trampled grass and a splatter of still-warm blood.

  She returned with her news. "The soldier's bullet wounded the dark mage," Tolwyn reported, "but he managed to slip back into the jungle."

  "Then I suggest we move out," the general said. "I want to reach our ship and be gone from this accursed island before any more monsters can be thrown at us."

  Tolwyn agreed, and the companions followed the remaining soldiers toward the shore.

  15

  Wilfred Markham watched as the tall warrior woman examined the spot he had recently occupied. He barely had time to cast mage dark around himself and slip into the hollow of an ancient tree before she arrived.

  Curse them all! He couldn't remember the last time he had suffered such wounds! Why, the dwarf had actually knocked him senseless with a metal tool. The lump over his left eye was a painful testimony to the dwarf's act. Then, to make matters worse, one of the Victorian soldiers had gotten off a shot. Luckily the blessed bullet had passed through his body, but the wound in his shoulder made his left arm virtually useless.

  If the damage to his own person were only the end of it! No, these travelers from other realms had destroyed four chthon and a skeletal golem with relative ease! It must be the stone's doing, he decided. Somehow they were drawing on the power of the eternity shard the priest carried. It was the only explanation he would accept.

  The woman returned to the others, and after a brief discussion they gathered their gear and started back down the trail. How sure they were of their safety! How arrogant!

  Markham began to search through his robes for components. He had to have a spell left to deal with these bothersome wanderers. Eternity shards in Orrorsh were hard enough to come by; he wasn't going to let one that presented itself to him by accident slip away so easily.

  "Put away your magicks, Markham. These travelers are not for you."

  The voice startled Markham, and he spilled a few pouches onto the ground. He looked around to see who had penetrated his spell of darkness. There, standing only a few feet away, was a tall man with jet-black hair

  and pale skin. He wore a finely tailored suit and looked all the world like an upstanding Victorian gentleman., But he was draped in his own cloak of mage dark, and Markham knew him for what he was.

  "Victor Manwaring," Markham declared. "Or should I call you Mantooth?"

  "Call me what you like, necromancer," the vampyre ,said in a calm, descending tone, "it matters not. But I must warn you, these travelers you have been persecuting have been given safe passage through this realm by the Gaunt Man himself. If you intend to disobey The High Lord's wishes, I will be forced to stop you."

  Markham stared hard at the vampyre. Mantooth was powerful, but Markham was no apprentice mage, either. Finally, the dark mage laughed.

  "I am a necromancer, Mantooth," Markham proclaimed. "You are undead. I can command you, or even destroy you if I so desire."

  "Perhaps," Mantooth said in an even voice. "But you are not at full power right now. Look at you, Markham. How much power have you expended on your shambling creations? And what is it costing you to stay on your feet after the wounds you've sustained? You cannot best me in this condition. If you try, I will simply destroy you."

  The dark mage was thoughtful. "There will be another time, vampyre," he said at last.

  "I am sure," Mantooth agreed. "Perhaps you would care to take up this dispute with Lord Salisbury?"

  Markham blanched at the mention of the High Lord's Victorian identity. Then he lowered his eyes. "I did not know this group was marked by the Gaunt Man."

  Mantooth nodded. "I understand. Just be thankful you did not cause any of them too much damage. The

  Gaunt Man promised them safe passage, and he does not like to go against his word."

  With that, the vampyre faded into the jungle, gathering his own darkness about him so that he could move around beneath the light of the sun. Markham thought about continuing his hunt of the travelers. Then he decided against it. There would be other shards. He sighed. Damn the Gaunt Man anyway! He picked up his pouches and headed back toward his camp. He had wounds to tend to and experiments to try — anything to help him forget the last few hours.

  16

  Lord Angar U thorion stamped across the battlements of Castle Ardinay. He wore the body of Lady Pella Ardinay, rightful ruler of the magical reality of Aysle. He had inhabited her physical shell for five hundred years; since sundering her spirit from its perch and taking control of the cosm with the aid of h
is Darkness Device, the obsidian crown named Drakacanus.

  "I want news, Jean Malraux!" he demanded through Ardinay's red lips. "We have heard precious little since the ravagon brought us the news of the Carredon's death at Tolwyn's hands."

  Uthorion shuddered, sending ripples of anxiety through Ardinay's body. The very name of Tolwyn of House Tancred stirred such alien emotions in the High Lord. Equal measures of hatred and fear warred within Ardinay's breast, breaking likes waves upon the shore of Uthorion's dark soul.

  "You are letting the prophecy destroy you, Angar," Jean Malraux said, sipping calmly from his goblet of wine.

  The Antipope of Avignon, High Lord of the theocracy

  of Magna Verita, was an enigmatic figure. He professed to be the Vicar of Christ on his world, yet he drew his most awesome powers from a Darkness Device. He urged his faithful to follow the laws of the Church and not suffer a witch to live, yet here he was, communing with a necromancer in a world where magic was the way of life. He was a contradiction. If his followers ever suspected the liberties he took with the faith, they would burn him at the stake — as was the practice under their medieval world view.

  "Why are you still here, Malraux?" Uthorion asked impatiently. "Don't you have a realm to conquer?"

  "As do you, Uthorion," the Antipope replied pleasantly. "I am here, at your invitation I remind you, in order to complete my grand deception. To the people of Magna Verita, I have transcended to Heaven to receive the blessings of Our Holy Father. To the cattle of Earth, I shall soon appear as' the saviour they so desperately need in their planet's time of trouble."

  "Yes, yes, but when do you descend your maelstrom bridge?" Uthorion pressed.

  "All in good time, my friend," Malraux smiled, sipping more wine. "Like a fine wine, you must let these things breath. The effect is much more grand when you have properly built the anticipation."

  Uthorion walked to the edge of the tower ramparts and looked down upon the Valley of the Sword and the great Inland Sea. The sun was setting, descending into the hole that led through Aysle's surface so that it could bring day to the other side of the world disk. Already he could see the rim stars rising, and he felt the presence of his own star, the invisible entity star, as dusk covered the land. This was the time of day Uthorion liked best, and he said a silent prayer to his dark god, Corba'al.