by Bill Allen
“So then there’s no one guarding the pass?” asked Melvin.
“A few men,” said the man. “Volunteers, making sure folks make it safely through.”
“Do you know how to get to Old Haven?” Priscilla asked him.
“Sure. Just head through the pass and turn left a mile before where the old oak used to be.”
She stared at him, along with the others.
“It’s the first trail on the left.”
Haven on Myrth
Old Haven was exactly where the man had told them, and just like he had said, the occasional man they saw within Dragon Horns Pass had been there to protect them, not to harm them.
For the first time since entering the Netherworld, they had to pay for their dinners, but they managed to do so with a single strand of Priscilla’s hair.
“How far to New Haven?” Melvin asked their server. The wrinkled woman wiped her hands on a filthy napkin. “Where?”
“New Haven,” Priscilla answered. “It’s supposed to be about five miles north of here.”
“Oh, really? Well, if so, then I’d say it’s probably around five miles.”
“Thanks,” said Greg.
At most there were two hours of daylight left. The five finished their dinners and debated whether to stop for the night, but in the end all agreed to go on. Nathan might not have one more night left.
Using another of Priscilla’s hairs, they bought extra food for Greg’s pack. The shopkeeper seemed quite interested to know where they’d come across such a find, but when asked, Greg simply pointed to his ears and pretended he couldn’t hear. He could only hope the shopkeeper wouldn’t remember they’d been carrying on a conversation not one minute earlier.
New Haven was less dilapidated than other towns the group had witnessed. An unusually high number of villagers still had all their eyes, ears and limbs. Even the professionally clad insurance agents were conspicuously absent, and Greg had to wonder if that was the real reason for the town’s name.
A one-legged man hopped around outside the first shop they passed, rushing to beat the darkness as he hammered on loose boards in the wood siding.
“Ahem,” said Priscilla.
The man ignored her and continued hammering.
“Ahem,” Priscilla tried again, a little louder.
With a frown the man lowered his hammer and looked her way. “Yeh need a glass o’ water?”
“No, we need help.”
“Hmph. I don’t remember seeing you kids around here before. Where’d you come from?”
“Old Haven,” she told him.
“Where?”
“Do you know how we might reach the docks?” Greg asked.
“Most likely you’ll reach ’em dead,” said the man. He plucked a nail from the corner of his mouth, set it against the wood, and tapped it home with two strokes of his hammer. “I guess if you’re not from around these parts I ought to warn you. Ain’t safe to be walking anywhere near the docks alone, even in the middle of the day. But with darkness settling in, well . . . big market for little girls and boys down that way, you know.”
“Who you calling little?” Melvin asked, stretching up to his full height.
The man squinted right past him, trying to peer under Lucky’s hood. Fortunately Lucky’s hair was too short to identify the color.
“Still got both your ears, don’t you? Nope, I wouldn’t recommend going down to them docks at all.” He plucked a second nail from between his teeth and proceeded to secure another board.
“But we need a boat,” said Kristin. “We’re trying to reach Deth’s End.”
“Ow!” The man dropped his hammer and hopped about on his one leg, interrupting his thumb-sucking only long enough to curse in words Greg had never heard before.
“You’re going where?”
“Deth’s End,” Kristin repeated. “It’s an island.”
“I know what Deth’s End is. I just don’t believe it. No one would be foolish enough to go there, not even a child. Do you have any idea what Dolzowt Deth would do to you there?” The man shuddered and returned to sucking his throbbing thumb.
“But we need to rescue our friend,” said Kristin. “Can you at least tell us how to get to the docks?”
“No. Even if you had the best of intentions, I wouldn’t feel right sending you down there—I’d have to take you myself—but I sure ain’t doing that. What’s the point of helping you if you’re just gonna go off and get yourselves killed after?”
“Please?” pleaded Kristin. She batted her eyes at him, which Greg figured just made him all the more reluctant to help her.
“I’ll take yeh to the docks,” said an unshaven man who happened to be passing by. Even through the stubble, Greg could see that his cheeks were badly scarred. His one ear was missing, as were most of his teeth. This last was probably what made his grin appear so diabolical.
“Er,” said Greg, “I don’t think so.”
“That’s it,” said the one-legged man. “I’m taking you myself. Move along,” he told the other. “They won’t be goin’ nowhere with the likes of you.”
The toothless grin faded, much to Greg’s relief, and the man ambled off, glancing back over his shoulder a few times and laughing.
“Creepy,” said Priscilla.
The one-legged man shoved his hammer into a holster on his belt. “Yeah, well, get used to it. He was one of the better ones.”
Sudden Departures
Even before the sun set, the docks somehow managed to appear dark as night. The shop where they had chosen to stop was even more decrepit than the Dirty Flagon. The stench of rotted fish hung cloying in the air, and the sound of breaking waves was interrupted only by the occasional call of a distant gull—and the more frequent screams of un-escorted travelers.
“Six eyes is ridiculous,” argued the one-legged man, who on the way to the docks had confided to the children that his name was Pete. “We’ll give you three fingers and a pinch of skin, not a bit more.”
“Uh, but—” said Greg.
“Ha,” said the shop owner. “I wouldn’t throw you in the water for twice that. Look at these fine crafts. They’s more than just seaworthy, you know. They’s works of art.”
Pete scowled. “We’re not asking to buy it, just rent it for a time.”
“Very amusing,” said the shop owner. “Just how long exactly will you be needing it?”
“How long does it take to get to Deth’s End?” Melvin asked innocently enough.
“Deth’s End? In one of my boats? That’s it. Negotiation’s over.”
Priscilla motioned for Pete to stoop so she could whisper into his ear. She handed him something the others couldn’t see. Pete glanced into his palm, and his eyes bulged.
“Er—wait,” he told the shop owner. “I . . . uh . . . I think we may be able to buy that boat outright.”
“I’m not gonna ask where you got that, mind,” Pete told Priscilla after the shop owner turned over his best vessel to them. (He was so happy he even threw in a spell that would keep the sails trimmed, the wind strong, and the course straight.) “But if you got it where I think you did, it don’t matter whether you’re going to Deth’s End or not. There ain’t no place safe for you in the Netherworld.”
“We’ll be safe if we can just reach our friend,” Greg told him.
Pete shrugged. “Deth’s End is due east about two miles. With that spell you got, you shouldn’t have no problem catchin’ the wind and staying on track. ’Course, there’s other dangers . . . but I expect you’ll find that out yourselves.”
“Thanks for all your help,” said Priscilla, holding out her hand to reveal a second lock of flowing red hair.
Pete stared at her hand and emitted a low whistle. “I . . . uh . . . that’s more wealth than I’ve seen in my entire lifetime, missy. I don’t know what to say.”
“Take it,” she said. “You deserve it.”
Pete reached out with shaking fingers and removed the lock of hair
from Priscilla’s hand, buffing her palm with all his trembling. “Thank you. Thank you all. I wish there was more I could do.”
“You could tell us what you meant by ‘other dangers,’” Lucky suggested.
Pete nodded, frowning. “Ah, I wish I could.”
“Why can’t you?”
“Because no one can, really. Far as I know, no man’s ever returned from Deth’s End alive.”
Whether a result of the spell the shop owner provided or not, the wind blew strong at their backs as the group set sail to the east. They talked very little. Greg could see nothing but blackness outside the boat. He listened to the splash of the water cut by the bow, worried over what they’d find when they reached Deth’s End. Had he known better, he would have used the time to worry over what they’d find before they reached Deth’s End.
Rake crawled out from Greg’s pack and stared ahead with the others. All eyes were fixed upon the dark horizon when a loud crash astern caused everyone to spin.
“What was that?” said Kristin.
“Don’t know,” Lucky said. “Melvin, check it out.”
“Me? You check it out.”
Lucky scowled. “Stop being such a baby.”
A second crash broke the night. In spite of all of his years of good fortune, Lucky edged closer to the bow.
Greg spotted a gigantic tentacle slithering off the deck, slipping away into the darkness. Kristin screamed, but only half as loudly as Melvin.
Like a huge roll of carpet dropping from the sky, the tentacle flopped onto the deck again, splintering boards and scattering debris in all directions.
Kristin pushed Greg forward. “Do something.”
He stared at the tiny walking stick in his hand. Do what? he asked himself, but even so, he launched himself forward, brought his walking stick up and around with all the force he could muster, and planted the tip deep into the fleshy tentacle. The resulting flinch catapulted him back to the bow. Fortunately Lucky was there to pad his fall, surely reconsidering the benefit of his talent in that moment.
“Watch out, Greg,” Kristin warned, a little too late.
The tentacle flopped about the deck, as if searching out the passengers. Melvin and the girls scattered. Greg and Lucky still lay in a heap, separated from the others. Lucky jumped to his feet and risked a leap that sent him safely up and over the probing tentacle.
“C’mon, Greg. It’s gonna find you there.”
Greg was slower to rise. When the tentacle rolled his direction, he had nowhere to retreat. He timed the motion and jumped at the last possible second, just as Lucky did, but without Lucky’s fortune to keep him from harm. The tip of the tentacle jerked around and caught his ankle. Greg landed face first on the deck with a loud splat and an even louder groan.
“Watch out!” Kristin shouted helpfully.
Once again the tentacle began its slow-motion slide off the deck, this time dragging Greg with it. The others stood frozen in horror, but Rake at least thought to help. The shadowcat charged and pounced with a shriek, sinking its claws deep into the monster’s flesh.
With a jerk the tentacle released Greg’s ankle. But the effort was not a total success. Greg watched in horror as Rake was flung over the rail. The tiny shadowcat soared away like a Frisbee and disappeared into the darkness.
“Rake!”
With a sickening slurp, the tentacle resumed its slide off the deck and faded into the night. Greg rushed over to the rail and scanned the surface of the water, but . . . nothing. Another crash sounded, and the boat lurched sideways.
“Look,” Priscilla shouted, pointing straight ahead. “Land.”
Greg tore his eyes from the dark spot where he had last seen Rake spinning away into oblivion. His stomach hurt so much he could barely stand. Ahead he could make out a mass of black, slightly darker than the night sky. Deth’s End. As they drew slowly nearer, he could make out something tall jutting from the surface. Very tall. And blacker than the blackest of nights.
Lucky, too, was staring at the sight. “It’s a spire. Just like Ruuan’s.”
The image of Rake flying to his doom left Greg too confused to debate the full significance of the sight.
Priscilla debated for him. “Do you think it belongs to another dragon?”
A sudden rush of movement at the base of the spire revealed an enormous creature, three-hundred-foot long, unfurling its wings and taking to the sky.
Lucky gulped. “I guarantee it.”
Dolzowt Deth
“Tehrer?” guessed Kristin.
Greg gulped. “Yep. He’s coming right at us.”
Enormous leather wings dominated the horizon, even with the dragon a good mile distant. Seconds later, when it was just ahead of the bow, its wings blocked out the entire sky. Sea monster or not, Greg tried to jump overboard.
Again the boat lurched. A huge tentacle landed with a crash on the deck in Greg’s way. Melvin, who’d been slightly quicker at deciding to jump, banged into Greg’s back, knocking him down. Greg looked up to witness a huge set of jaws sweeping down from the sky.
“Watch out!” said Melvin.
Greg tried to stand, but the tentacle rolled into him, knocked him flat on his back. He had but one instant to observe the dragon’s mouth rushing up like a cave to engulf him, a cave that sported ten-foot-long stalagmites and stalactites from floor and ceiling, razor sharp and stained with blood.
Greg didn’t have time to scream. He heard the sudden crunch of wood, and the little bit of moonlight he had been using to see with cut off in an instant. As dark as it had been outside, it was hard to believe it could be even darker inside the dragon’s mouth.
Greg felt a disturbing sensation in his stomach, as if he were inside a suddenly rising elevator, and then he was pitched into Lucky, and a six-foot section of tentacle rolled into the two of them, oozing green slime, competing with the stench of dragon spit as the most putrid odor imaginable.
The dragon wasn’t going to eat them just yet, he realized. It was taking them back to Deth’s End, which at first Greg thought was a blatant misnomer for a spot halfway up an infinitely tall spire and therefore not even close to an end, but now he realized this was “End” with a capital “E,” which held a much more ominous meaning.
Seconds had barely passed before Greg was strewn, amidst a pile of flopping fish and splintered deck wood, across the floor of a cool storage chamber nearly identical to the one found in Ruuan’s lair. He was relieved to at least see the others had been scooped up with him.
“Ow,” he said.
The others agreed.
While not all of them had ridden inside a dragon’s mouth before today, all but Melvin had at least some experience inside the storage locker within Ruuan’s lair. Everyone was glad for the respite from the searing heat outside, but Greg suspected even Melvin recognized their good fortune as temporary at best.
“That was disgusting,” said Priscilla. Her hood had fallen back, and she raised a hand to her hacked-up haircut and pulled away a long trail of yellowish goo.
“Ugh,” Kristin added. “What is that smell?”
“I still say it’s a lot better riding inside than underneath,” said Lucky. He glanced around the chamber, where streaks of light from the white-hot lair outside cut the gloom. “Hey, this is just like the storage locker in the Infinite Spire.”
Kristin used her bare hands to wipe her face, sniffed her palms, and grimaced. “Except Ruuan wasn’t around to eat us when we were there.”
“He was when I was there,” Lucky informed her. “Fortunately Greg talked him out of it.”
Greg could see Kristin’s eyes light up through the dark. “You did that, Greg? That’s great. Think you can do it again?”
“I don’t know. That was Ruuan. They say Tehrer’s not as friendly. I doubt he’s going to care about me fulfilling a prophecy.”
“Maybe not,” said Melvin, “but you heard what Dad said. He made a deal with Tehrer once.”
“That’s true,” s
aid Greg. “Maybe we do have a chance.”
“Say no more,” said Lucky. “If we have even a slight chance, my talent should pull us through.”
“Not likely,” said a woman’s voice from the shadows.
Greg spun toward the sound.
“Who’s there?” Somewhere during the dragon attack, he’d lost his walking stick, and his hands felt very empty.
The darkness rustled, something darkness ought not do. All eyes fixed on the shadows. A woman’s head shifted into one of the beams of moonlight cast from outside the chamber.
“Who are you?” Greg asked, backing up along with the others.
“Oh, it’s not me you have to worry about,” said the woman, “or the dragon. Dolzowt Deth knows you’re here. He’ll be along for you soon. He likes children.”
Melvin gulped. “How does he know we’re here?”
“And why hasn’t he come for you?” Greg asked.
“Dolzowt knows everything that happens on or around Deth’s End. He’s the one who sent the dragon to pick you up. As for me, I’m afraid I’m too old to be of much use to a sorcerer. Soon he’ll come and take whatever parts he needs, and after . . . well, the dragon has to eat . . .”
“That’s terrible,” said Priscilla.
“Think how I feel.”
“We’ve got to get you out of here,” said Greg.
The woman laughed. It was a sad sound. “If only it were that easy. At least you kids will get to stay in the passageway. I hear it’s nice in there. Not like this place. You’re young and healthy. It could be years before you have to worry about Dolzowt taking anything you can’t live without.”
“That’s a comforting thought,” said Lucky.
“What’s that?” Greg asked.
“What’s what?”
“That weird prickly feeling in the air.”
“Uh-oh, he’s coming,” said the woman, and no sooner had she said it before the air flashed a brilliant blue, and the pure white form of a man appeared, glowing brightly in the center of the room.
The man’s robe fluttered as if caught up by a strong wind, though the air stood perfectly still, and his hair hung full below his shoulders—or at least it would have, if it weren’t being blown about so fiercely. Equally long as the hair on his head, his misshapen beard fluttered from his chin like eels in a feeding frenzy.