"When it comes to liquid, I bow to your expertise," the Harskeel said. "Come, then, and allow me to offer you some nourishment."
The bats flocked around the Harskeel as it filled a hole in the rock with blood. After they had finished drinking, all of the bats agreed that it was quite the best-quality meal they had ever had. Promises from the witch and wizard meant nothing compared to this, they said. They were the Harske'el's friends forever!
"Tell me more about this witch and wizard," the Harskeel said.
Gladly, the bats replied. Anything for such a fine friend. Anything at all.
* * *
Eleven
The passage in which the three steered the slowly sinking fish narrowed, although Conan could see that it widened considerably up ahead. A few moments later, they attained the wider passage. Almost immediately Conan knew that something was wrong. He glanced around and saw the cause of his worry. Behind them was the mouth of the narrow pass through which they had just emerged. Next to it was a similar opening. Conan stopped his paddling.
"What is it?" Tull asked.
"Observe," Conan said, pointing with the paddle.
Tull and Elashi turned to look behind them.
"Uh~oh," Tull said.
"What is the matter?" Elashi asked. "I see nothing but two large holes in a wall. Is there some pursuit?"
Conan said, "Do you not recognize this place? You were set on entering one over the other not so long ago."
Elashi shook her head. "What are you babbling about?"
The big Cimmerian nodded at the twin passages behind them. "We have made a loop," he said. "Yesterday we entered that passage on the left. Now we have returned to the same spot. If there is any pursuit, likely it will come from the direction in which we now travel."
"Oh!" Elashi said. "Oh, dread."
Dread indeed, Conan thought. It seemed that there would be no way out of the underground via this waterway.
"What are we to do now?" Elashi asked.
"I think it best we beach this stinking fish corpse and resume our travels on foot," Conan answered. "As I recall, there were a series of small openings on the wall only an hour or so ahead."
Tull said, "Aye, right, lad. Our boat should get us that far."
"The faster, the better," Conan said.
Both men dug their makeshift paddles into the water deeply. The sodden fish moved slowly, but move it did.
Wikkell and Deek paused to dine upon several carefully selected fungi and to rest from their labors at the scull oar. While neither creature was bothered by toadstools that would fatally fell a man, each had his own preference as to flavor, and so each searched for the particular variety of cave-growing fungus that suited him best. They were fortunate in finding their favorites in short order.
"I would say we made excellent time thus far today," Wikkell said around a mouthful of putrid yellow mushroom.
Deek, now firmly upon solid rock, scraped his reply. "I-indeed. A p-p-pleasant w-way to t-t-travel."
Wikkell nodded. "Aye. And I was thinking that the plants might well be able to produce other items that we might find useful. Clothing, perhaps; or they might even be persuaded to manufacture furniture."
"T-that s-s-same th-th-thought had c-crossed m-my m-mind." Since it was not necessary for Deek to utilize his mouth for speech, he continued to eat all the while he said this.
"Of course we would eventually run out of bats and Whites to trade, but I for one cannot say I would be greatly aggrieved if that should come to pass."
"N-n-nor w-w-would I."
Wikkell swallowed a mouthful of his meal. "By that time, we could have the caves looking very fine indeed." He started to take yet another bite of the mushroom but paused, suddenly remembering. "The wizard would never allow it," he said, his voice sad.
Deek paused in his own mastication. "T-t-too r-right. N-n-neither w-would the w-w-witch."
Wikkell's appetite was gone of a moment. He tossed the mushroom aside and brushed the crumbs of it from his lips. "I do not recall it personally, of course, but I am told that the caves were a much happier place before the coming of the wizard and the witch."
"S-s-so I t-too h-have h-h-heard. A p-p-pity."
Wikkell stood and rubbed his hands together to warm them. "Well, there's nothing to be done for it, is there? To raise a hand against Katamay Rey would result in instant liquidity and putrification."
"C-c-chuntha p-prefers the l-l-lime pits."
Both Wikkell and Deek gave out with their versions of a shudder.
"Best we depart, Deek old slug. The sooner we get this business behind us, the better."
"A-a-aye, O-one-Eye. O-one m-m-must d-deal w-with r-r-reality."
"Unfortunately. Come. I shall assist you into our boat."
"Y-y-you are t-too k-k-kind."
After Deek was aboard, Wikkell shoved the lightweight craft into the water and hopped inside. As soon as the oar cleared the shore, he began bending it back and forth in the powerful scull he had gotten better at as they had traveled. Perhaps there was some way he and Deek could both come out of this adventure with their skins whole. There were, after all, at least three humans, and from the debacle he had witnessed in the bat cave, likely a few more loose ones running about. Were Wikkell to return with several of them for Rey's pleasure, who was to know if Deek also captured a few for the witch?
According to the oral history of the caves, there had been a time hundreds of seasons past when the cyclopes and the worms had gotten along together rather well, living in harmony and bother ing no one. The plants had feasted upon the much stupider Whites and bats, and life had been an altogether better proposition than it was under the rule of either witch or wizard. Wikkell could see how it might have been so: this Deek was a pleasant enough sort, much better company than a haughty bat or a jibbering moron of a White, and certainly much, much nicer than the human wizard, with his noxious spells and offhand death-dealing. At the very least, Deek considered the cyclopes thinking beings, even if enemies, something Rey could not bring himself to believe. Perhaps there was some way to avoid braining the great worm with a rock after all. Wikkell would think about it and gently broach the subject when it might be appropriate.
All of which was moot, of course, did they not catch the humans, and soon.
Wikkell bent to his oar, thinking of the unpleasant alternative to losing their prey.
Offhand, the Harskeel could not recall ever having traveled or even having heard of anyone who had traveled in such a ridiculous manner. It and its men sat perched upon the damp planks of their "boat," which was being hauled rapidly along an underground waterway by no less than forty blood-drinking bats. Would that he could see such an assemblage passing by from the shore. Surely it must be a sight to behold from that angle.
There was nothing funny, however, in being in competition with both a powerful wizard and an equally powerful witch for the bounty they all sought. The Harskeel had a healthy respect for magic, garnered the hard way, and its only hope was to obtain the prize first and be gone before a bigger dog arrived to take it. The bats, expansive with blood-bloated bellies, had told him all about the wizard and the witch and their enthralled agents, the cyclopes and the giant worms. This proposition grew trickier by the moment.
Still, the Harskeel considered, it was itself not without resources. Aside from its remaining men―not the most adept of warriors, but who would fight well to protect their hides―the Harskeel also had a few small spells of its own. Granted, it was no adept at magic, either, but with the element of surprise on its side, a minor conjure at the right time might well turn the contest in its favor. A blinding light here or a thick fog there could alter the course of a battle. There were five barrels of blood left in the spell he had promised the bats. Said creatures would scarcely appreciate wasting such a delectable treat by having it pour down upon an enemy, but the Harskeel hardly considered the wants of the bats germane to its own plans. One did what one had to do to win, and demons devou
r the losers.
The makeshift craft skimmed over the water, throwing up a fine spray, such was the thing's bat-augmented speed. As long as they had to deal with only a single worm and one hunchbacked cyclops, it could be managed. Could they but stay ahead of the witch and the wizard, the game was still within the Harskeel's reach. At this speed, it did not see how it could lose.
Once again Rey's temper flared hotter. This was all very amusing, to go forth seeking sport, but he had come to the edge of the Sunless Sea without sighting either his prey or his cyclops. Perhaps Wikkell was dead after all, and if so, just as well, for failure was something Rey could not abide. There were a hundred other cyclopes who could replace Wikkell, though the fool had once shown promise.
Never mind that, Rey thought. By the process of elimination, the man he sought must be somewhere farther along. He must have obtained a boat of some kind. No matter. He would not escape that easily.
Rey called for his chest of spells. The cyclops bearer shambled forth and deposited the case upon the rock. The beast clunked the load down somewhat heavily.
"Careful, fool! Should you break the wrong item, this entire cave could disappear into limbo!"
A lie, of course, but Rey enjoyed the instant look of fear that appeared on the face of the cyclops.
Rey dug around in the case until he found The Book of Structural Theurgy. He caused a small flame to burn at the tip of his right thumb so that he might better view the text. He leafed through the pages. Temples, Castles―no, that was too far, back up―Buildings, Bridges. Ah, there it was. Now if his memory served, there should be a spell here…
Set's Scales! Where was it? He knew he had used the spell before; it was like a bridge at the shore that appeared in the direction one traveled and disappeared behind. It had to be here some where… wait, it came to him, he should look under "Dock."
Yes. There it was.
Rey mumbled the proper phrases, made the appropriate gesturology, and waited expectantly. A heartbeat later the dock blinked into existence, as solid as could be.
The wizard smiled at the sudden drone of the Cyclopes. That is correct, morons. I am Katamay Rey, your master, and best you never forget it.
Magic concluded, Rey returned to his sedan and waved one indolent hand toward the dock. "Forward," he said.
His carriers obeyed. Before they reached the end of the magical dock, another section popped into view, extending the dock that much farther into the water. As the party neared the end of that section, yet another appeared, while behind them, the dock next to the shore winked out as if it had never been. The wizard could have caused it to remain, of course, but the cost would have been high. Conservation of magical energy was necessary were one to avoid overextending one's self.
The pace was stately rather than rapid, but Rey did not worry over this. He knew that the Sunless Sea ended some distance ahead in a loop, so sooner or later, anything that traveled that way upon the waters would return in this direction.
It was only a matter of time.
Chuntha's travels led her to a different fjord of the Sunless Sea than that of her rival's. This had been her intent, and she planned to remain behind that bastard of a wizard and out of sight until they came upon the man they both sought. She could not see the wizard ahead, but her scout had returned with news of his position, and he was right where she wanted him. With surprise on her side, she would take care of him once and for all.
The immediate problem was how to navigate the waterway, but a clever witch was never stymied by such trifles.
"All of you, assemble over here," she commanded the worms. "Side by side, in rows, thusly." She gestured, to show the worms the proper ranks.
The creatures came and did as they had been bidden. Eight worms across and three lengthwise they lay, pressed together into a large mat.
From her selection of wands, Chuntha procured a thin rod, no thicker than her middle finger but nearly half her height. Holding this before herself with both hands, she began to rub it over her body, up and down. At the same time, the witch murmured the melodious tones of the spell, a singsong performed in a language from a time when mankind was yet very young.
The casting took effect. She opened her mouth and from it a torrent of fluid emerged, spraying and soaking the ranks of worms as Chuntha walked around and around them. As the liquid touched each worm, it flowed under it, coating it completely. The fluid was sweet-smelling and more volatile than water, and a moment after it covered the creatures beneath the woman, the secretion hardened into a pliable gel.
"Now," Chuntha said, "on my command, the center rank will contract into a half-loop, the front rank will allow itself to be pushed forward, and the rear rank will be dragged along. We are going to inch along to the water. Go!"
To the amazement'of the worms, they were now joined together as solidly as if they were one creature. Chuntha smiled as she watched the connected worms move, knowing that they must be thinking she planned to drown them all.
The mat reached the water, and to the further amazement of the leading creatures, it began to float. More, no water came through the gel surrounding them, but air seemed to pass quite freely.
After a few moments, Chuntha had her boat. She loaded her luggage aboard the raftlike construction, first removing from her bags another wand, this one shaped like a wooden screw such as might be used in a fruit press. She placed this to the rear of the raft, where it clung magically. A short incantation and the screw trebled in size, then began to turn. The effect of this worm-gear device was to drive the raft of worms forward.
Chuntha smiled and went to stand at the front of the raft, naked legs spread wide, the gentle breeze of their motion ruffling her hair. She was quite pleased with herself. Quite pleased.
* * *
Twelve
Conan's plan to ride their decomposing boat to the tunnels he had earlier seen was not to be. The dead fish, aside from filling the cavern with a noxious, rotting stench, had also begun to sink to the point where it was almost impossible to propel it with the fin paddles Conan and Tull wielded. The cold water of the underground sea washed over the trio's ankles even at the center of the craft.
"Best we attain the shore," Conan said. "There is enough ledge and beach for us to walk. We are not far, as I recall."
"Aye, lad," Tull said. "Good idea."
The two men strained to paddle the hulk closer to shore. Elashi leaped to the rocky outcrop closest to them, followed by Tull and then Conan. The fish bobbed somewhat higher in the water now that was free of its human riders, but water still covered most of it. As Conan watched, the fish jerked slightly: something must be feeding on it from below.
"This way," Conan said.
He led them up a narrow ledge that wound deeper into the rocks. The wall of the cave was a goodly distance from the water here, and the glow-fungus was scanty on the outcrops, making the footing treacherous in the darkness. Even so, the Cimmerian's sharp eyes managed to spy a relatively safe path.
They were no more than five minutes away from where they had abandoned their boat when Conan stopped and waved Elashi and Tull to silence. He heard something. The sound was difficult to trace due to the surrounding rock and the echoes it cast, but it seemed to be coming from the water.
"Take cover," Conan ordered. "Something approaches on the sea."
Tull and Elashi obeyed, scrunching down behind nearby boulders. Conan himself moved into a patch of heavy shadow next to a fallen stalagtite twice his height and diameter. He squatted and froze into immobility.
After a moment the source of the sound grew nearer and he recognized the noise even as he saw its cause: a boat, with a sculling oarsman whose stroke occasionally broke the surface with a small splash.
And what an oarsman! The creature stood half again Conan's height, bore a large hump upon its furry back, and had but a single eye. Bald it was, but with a thick beard. It had massive arms and squarish, thick fingers, and its movements propelled the boat along at thrice t
he best speed Conan and Tull had managed to move the fish.
The boat was silvery, shining almost as if it were a looking glass upon the darker water, and of what it was constructed, Conan could not guess. As the craft drew abreast and rapidly past, Conan's superior height allowed him to see into the boat. Lying upon the floor next to the one-eyed giant was what appeared to be a giant grub. White it must be, even in the green light, and segmented like a worm, as big around as a barrel at the center, and rounded on both ends. Conan wondered if these were the same two he had seen vaguely in the bats' cave.
The Cimmerian shook his head as the craft and its strange occupants passed. He wanted no part of this pair. A few moments later the thing was out of sight, and Conan moved to where Tull and Elashi waited.
"Did you see?" Conan asked.
"Aye," Tull answered. "A cyclops and one of the giant white worms. Odd, though. They're enemies, on opposite sides. Strange they'd be together. I never seen 'em that way afore."
"My, how wonderful," Elashi said. "They have teamed up on our account. You must be proud, Conan."
"Come," Conan said. "They have missed us, and by the time they realize it, we can be far gone."
With that, the three started moving again, in the opposite direction of the cyclops and the worm.
Deek lifted his head and seemed agitated. Wikkell understood; he knew little about the sensory apparatus of the worms, but did it function at all, it could hardly miss the reek that filled the air. Spoiled fish, and no mistake about it.
"To our right," Wikkell said, "just ahead, there floats the cause of the stink, friend Deek. One of the great fish that inhabit the sea has gone to join its ancestors, so it seems."
Wikkell spared the fish a glance. Quite a large creature, he noted. It must have been most formidable when alive.
Deek raised the front portion of himself up over the edge of the boat and observed the dead fish. Its brother denizens of the depths must have been at it, he saw, for there were great chunks gouged out of the flesh here and there. Something odd about the wounds, though.
The Conan Compendium Page 79