Tainted Garden

by Jeff Stanley

  Lhedri slashed with his sword at the woman’s grasping hands, slicing off several of her fingers, which pattered to the metal floor. She took no notice, battering aside his sword as he thrust for her face. His arm went numb to the shoulder with the force of her blow. He fell to his haunches, skittering back from her advance.

  She pounced, and Lhedri rolled aside. Seeing an opportunity, he lashed out with his sword, cutting clean through the fat tentacle, near where it connected to her back. The woman spasmed and collapsed without a sound.

  “The tentacles, Cadrin!” Lhedri called, avoiding the wild swing of another of the women. He risked a glance at his companion, seeing Cadrin in desperate straits. The other remaining woman had forced him to his knees, his back to the wall, and pummeled away at the acidrod he held crosswise in front of him. The barrel of the weapon bent, its skin fracturing beneath the onslaught.

  The woman pressing Lhedri lashed out, catching him a glancing blow on his shoulder. The power of the blow sent him spinning. He crashed into the wall and almost dropped his sword. Instinctively, he ducked, and the woman’s fist pounded into the wall where his head had been. The thick metal of the wall crumpled, her fist driven a foot or more into it. She tugged, but could not free her arm.

  Lhedri dashed forward, ducking a roundhouse swing by the woman. He slashed downward, severing her umbilicus. The woman collapsed. Her face slammed into the wall. Her trapped fist prevented her from slumping to the floor.

  “Cadrin!” Lhedri said, stepping forward to hack at the last woman’s umbilicus where it lay squirming on the floor. His sword bit deep, but did not sever the cord. The woman screeched, the first sound he had heard any of them make, and half-turned, momentarily ignoring Cadrin. Her eyes focused on Lhedri and she staggered toward him, her hands clenched into fists.

  Cadrin brought up his warped acidrod, placed it against the flesh of the woman’s back, and fired. The acidslug tore into her body, bulging the flesh of her midsection as if she were swollen with child. From the central bulge, deep red lines laced out, tracing across her torso. She jerked, her fingers forming claws, her mouth gaping open. The red lines opened deep cracks in her flesh, and her bowels spilled out in a steaming, acid-washed heap at her feet. She crumpled and lay still in a spreading pool of her own juices.

  Lhedri rushed to Cadrin. The man lay back. The ruin of his acidrod lay across his acid-splashed thighs. His arms were covered with smoking wounds, and one ended in a ragged stump, flash-burned and oozing. The flesh on one side of his face and one of his shoulders had sloughed away, revealing pink-tinged bone. His lips moved feebly.

  Lhedri knelt at Cadrin’s side, careful of the still-caustic acid coating his body. “Cadrin, I . . .”

  Cadrin shook his head, a movement that caused new agony to blossom on his face. “No. Get . . . get her . . . Captain. I’m done.”

  “No, Cadrin. There’s still a chance.”

  Cadrin smiled through melting lips. His eyes went blank, and his mouth gaped open. Lhedri could hear the sizzle as the acid ate through flesh and into bone. Cadrin was dead.

  Lhedri scrambled among the dead for acidrods, taking the two not ruined and still holding slugs. Two rods, six slugs. He sheathed his sword and chose the best of the rods, slinging the other across his back.

  The single female scream had not been repeated. Dersi, he was certain of it.

  Armed as best as he could manage, Lhedri passed through the massive doors and into a semicircular room with a narrow catwalk around its rim. A metal-lattice stairway gave access to it, and Lhedri crossed to this without taking much note of the bizarre machinery that choked the room. Dozens of tangled umbilicals, the remains of those attached to the women, rose from the center of the room to pierce a heaving globe of ool-flesh above. The thick scent of mingled ozone and smoke and ool-blood clogged his nostrils.

  The catwalk rang with his footsteps as he circled the room toward the single exit. It stood open, and beyond it he could see glistening convolutions of resin and ool-flesh intermingled with gleaming metal. Sounds echoed through the passageway: slithering tentacles and the whirring clangor of belching machinery.

  How had he heard Dersi’s scream over such a din? He shook his head, uncaring, and pressed onward.

  Taking a firmer grip on his acidrod, he crept into the corridor, following it a short distance until it ended in a sphincter that refused to open at his touch. The lacery hung before it twitched in agitation, a sound like the ringing of chimes, threatening to bring more of the women.

  Lhedri could not stop. More and more he was certain the scream had been Lady Dersi’s. And from the sound of it, he felt not only her fear, but her disgust and revulsion, emotions Lhedri could, in the aftermath of his own encounters here in this nightmarish place, understand quite well.

  Unbidden doubts attempted to squirm into his thinking, a desire, almost a need, to forget Lady Dersi and seek his way out of this torturous place. He had entered the rebel complex with more than forty guardsmen under his command, and had descended in the mechanical throat with twelve of them under his guidance. Of those, not one survived. And they had died horribly, torn limb from limb or wrenched into twisted shapes barely recognizable as Bhajong.

  But where could he go? He was trapped in this complex of horrors. He could only hope to find Lady Dersi and her companion, the rebel Erekel. The old man had moved with seeming self-assurance in seeking these metallic bowels. Certainly he knew how to escape them.

  Besides, he could not desert Lady Dersi in this horrid place. Not Dersi.

  Banishing doubts from his mind, he leaned the acidrod against the squirming wall of the corridor and drew his sword. He pressed the sharp point against the nexus of the sphincter, working the blade into the resilient flesh of the ool. It resisted him, and he twisted the sword, straining to bite deep into it. It trembled, and the lacery behind him shivered in agitation, crying out in alarm. He sawed desperately at the flesh, worming the sword deeper into the sphincter. Fluids drizzled down the resinous surface, coating his blade and bathing his hand and wrist. A narrow gap opened in the flesh. Breathing deeply, knowing he gambled with his life and that of Lady Dersi’s, he saw no alternative, and shoved his foot through the hole. He released his sword and wiggled deeper, pressing upward with his hands on the slick flesh, pushing downward with his booted foot. Sticky fluids washing over him, Lhedri wiggled his head through the crevice and peered into the room beyond.

  He gasped, his eyes widening. Feeling behind him, through the sphincter, he took up the acidrod he had left leaning against the wall and dragged it through. He pulled himself the remaining way through the access and drew his sword after him.

  He stood upon another catwalk, this one ringing a vast spherical room, easily a hundred feet in diameter. Its walls were composed of row upon row, from distant floor to equally distant ceiling, of transparent, cylindrical tubes. Massive wads of tentacles rose from each case, rising to intersect in a tangled ball in the center of the chamber. Here other tendrils dangled, reaching out to caress the facings of the tubes with suckered tips. A dripping eye the size of a man hung on a knotted cord from the central tangle, swiveling to orient on Lhedri as he entered.

  Tendrils slithered from the walls, snaking toward Lhedri, who dropped to his knees. The tentacles crashed together over his head, and he heard the sound of ringing metal. Glancing upward, he saw that each of the writhing arms was tipped with a four-foot-long sliver of sharpened metal. He rolled away as other tendrils slashed down at him. His acidrod slipped from his fingers, clattering on the metal grating, and caught on the narrow lip encircling the catwalk. A sword-tipped appendage speared down, smashing the weapon to splinters. A weird, warbling cry erupted from beaked mouths that emerged from the tangled ball.

  Lhedri rose to his feet and ran along the catwalk, while all around him the chamber erupted into a fury of sound and motion. Lining the walls, sealed away in their transparent cases, he could see perfectly symmetrical beings, their bodies long and shapely, the
ir faces uniform in some semblance of sleep. Male and female, each had the same shock of bright red hair, almost the color of blood. He dodged bladed tentacles, ducking and rolling, leaping over knots of them when they thrust across his path. A blade sliced along his shoulders, digging deep into his skin. He felt the hot flush of blood drip down his back.

  Ahead and behind hot air gushed from the walls. He ran through clouds of steam as the cases lining the catwalk cracked open. He heard muttering sounds, words, undecipherable in his panic. Smooth-limbed bodies began stepping from the cases.

  Lhedri saw a landing ahead, and a broad metal door. He dashed through clouds of fog and grasping hands, dodging the clumsy blows that rained down on him from the cases. As if fearing to hit the red-haired beings, the sword-tentacles retreated. They rose, hovering overhead, tracking his movement, but did not lash out.

  A red-haired man stepped directly into Lhedri’s path. Unable to stop himself, Lhedri lowered his shoulder and crashed into the man, knocking him asprawl. Fingers grasped at his clothing, but Lhedri slammed his elbow down into the beautiful man’s face and crawled away. Another figure, a woman, clutched at his arm. Lhedri jerked away, reaching for the door. He could see another of the shallow depressions on the wall beside it. Frantic, he crashed into the door and slid his hand into the niche. The door clicked, jerked, and began to sink into the floor.

  He could feel the creatures closing in on him. Diving through the door, he rolled, spun to his feet, and whipped the other acidrod from his back, firing blindly behind him. He heard a satisfying outcry as the slug sizzled through the air and disappeared into the wafting fog.

  Lhedri leaped to his feet and bolted along a short hallway that ended in another sphincter. Two slugs. Not daring to stop, knowing the creatures would be hard on his heels, he raised the acidrod to his midsection and fired at the sphincter even as he pounded down the corridor. The hissing slug crashed into the sphincter, and it shuddered. Acid gnawed through ool-flesh. The portal flew open, and Lhedri leaped through it.

  One slug left.

  He turned back, ready to defend himself against pursuit. But the sphincter slammed shut with a wet slurp, sealing him in.

  Lhedri spun again, facing into the room, his acidrod ready . . . and gasped in horror.

  Chapter 40

  Lhedri took a step back from the horrifying figure that rose at his entrance. Metal and flesh merged in the creature, an unbelievable hybrid of dripping, oozing limbs and gleaming metal. From its body rose dozens of cords and tentacles, joining overhead in a tangle, attached to shuddering, clanking machinery. Its mouth opened, spilling a mass of squirming cilia.

  “Who dares intrude upon me?” the figure demanded, its voice sending tremors through the room. Overhead, tentacles shivered, and the complex machinery shuddered, belching steam.

  Lhedri stepped back again. Fear sizzled through him, unrestrained, a mortal terror that left him trembling. His knees felt weak, his fingers twitched on the acidrod. The voice, the terrible, forceful voice. It struck him to his core.

  “Bow down to me, child! Bow down before your God!”

  Lhedri could not think. His mind raced, images tumbling over one another in a chaotic swirl. Without thought, he began to sink to his knees. Waves of force spilled from the towering figure, washing over Lhedri, robbing him of will, of resistance.

  “Yes, bow before me, child. You are in the presence of your God. I hold your life in my hands. Serve me, and the blessings will be manifold. Defy me, and your end will be beyond compare.”

  Lhedri fell to his knees. His hand relaxed, and the acidrod tumbled from his slack fingers to clatter to the floor. He felt his eyelids becoming heavy. The air he drew into his lungs felt dense. It tasted of smoke and acid. Sluggish, he put one hand to the floor to gain his balance.

  Something, some small sound, stirred at the edge of his consciousness. Something he should know. Something he should remember. Something . . .

  “Bow down. Prostrate yourself before your God.”

  He lowered his head, felt the cool metal of the floor against his lips.

  “Sleep. Dream. Be at peace. I welcome you into the fold. Sleep.”

  His eyes closed, heavy beyond belief.

  The sound came again, a shrill gurgle. His body sank deeper into relaxation.

  “Sleep.”

  The command could not be denied. His shoulders slumped forward. His face pressed fully against the cold metal floor. Dreams hovered at the edge of his mind, visions of family, of community, of safety and warmth. Companionship. Love. He opened the doorways of his mind to the dreams.

  The gurgling sound, unmistakable in its panic, fell on his sleep-pressed ears. Something. . . . What was it? Something . . .

  His arms fell to his side, brushing against the acidrod where it lay next to him. It clattered, bringing clarity. He opened bleary eyes, staring into the gleaming surface of the floor. His will seemed not his own, oppressed by a power he could not understand.

  “Now, Dersi, shall we continue?” Lhedri heard the creature say, its voice light, pleased.

  Dersi? Lady Dersi? Lhedri shifted, canting his head to one side, and saw the horrid creature approach a warped chair, a raised lump of ool-flesh and metal. He saw through heavy eyes a cylinder situated directly above the chair, saw it dancing with flickering inner lights, saw it revolving, spinning. Smoke arose from its terminus, and a misty cloud of deep red, unmistakably blood. He smelled the harsh stench of burning flesh, the coppery tang of blood, and other, subtle things he could not identify.

  The gurgling sound came again, and a slight movement drew his eye. There, along the back of the lumpy chair, a few strands of long, pale hair trailed across metal and flesh.

  “Not much longer, Dersi, and then you will join me.”

  Lady Dersi!

  Lhedri rose to trembling knees and felt around him with his hand, keeping his eyes trained on the disgusting hybrid. His fingertips brushed the shaft of his acidrod and he drew it to him. It scraped across the floor.

  The creature turned at the sound.

  Lhedri brought up the acidrod and fired in one smooth motion.

  The hybrid of metal and tissue screamed, a sound that shook the room.

  The mound of flesh carried Rian and the strangers upward until it deposited them within a broad chamber festooned with shivering tentacles. The stranger shoved Rian to one side of the mound, then picked him up and stepped over a lip of throbbing tissue. The woman followed. Carried over the shoulder of the stranger, Rian could see the hump shrink, the flesh recede back into the walls of the feeder. The scent of acid was strong here, rising from several pools of liquid sprinkled around the room.

  Dark-skinned creatures crept around in the shadows of the chamber, skittering on short, crooked limbs. Others, spiderlike, scuttled up the walls, seizing dangling tendrils in their pinchered mouths and dragging them down into the pools of liquid. The tendrils then began to drink, siphoning the liquid up into the throbbing flesh of the ool. A hulking creature with short, stubby legs shambled toward one of the pools and knelt. A ridged tube slid from the center of its eyeless, globular head and entered the pool. With a disgusting slurping sound it sucked at the bubbling, hissing liquid. Its stomach swelled, and still it sucked. The skin of its belly stretched taut, becoming translucent, the veins embedded in the flesh standing out in sharp relief.

  The stranger dropped Rian to the floor. It cracked beneath his weight. Reaching up, the stranger grasped a thick tentacle hanging from the ceiling. After wrapping the tendril around the landskin cocoon, the stranger stepped back and stroked the bulging tentacle. It retracted, dragging Rian across the floor and up, until he was hanging head down, suspended several feet above the floor.

  Rian struggled, but still could gain no slack in his sheath.

  “The landskin will not release you. And even if it did, what would you do? Where would you go?”

  Rian glared at the stranger, willing him to death.

  The stranger smiled
as if reading his mind, mocking. His face had completely healed, fresh, pink skin replacing the withered ruin left by Rian’s spittle. The woman at his side reached up and laid her palm upon the stranger’s cheek. She smiled, displaying clean, white teeth.

  “Come,” the stranger said, and turned his back on Rian. With the woman at his side he crossed the room, heading toward a circular opening ringed by knobs of hard, porous flesh that jetted purplish gases. The tendril by which Rian was suspended shivered and slid along through the flesh of the chamber in the wake of the two strangers.

  The tubular passageway wound through striated tissue, rising and sinking over encrusted projections. Other passages, most smaller in diameter, intersected the one along which they traveled, and strange creatures crawled or slithered through them, bent on tasks Rian could not discern. The stranger and his woman ignored Rian, other than to periodically nudge his cocoon to one side when massive, hunchbacked creatures slogged past, eyeless and unheeding of their presence.

  They entered a confluence of passageways, an oblong chamber from which dozens of tunnels sank into the moist darkness. Here a series of misshapen pillars rose from the floor. Knobs and lumps dotted the surface of the pillars, which seemed composed of a glistening, translucent material. Passing close to one of the spars, Rian could see a reaching hand within, fingers bent in a supplicating gesture. Farther on, a face, beautiful in a strange sort of way, framed by wisps of pale hair, swam beneath the translucent crust. Eyes wide in terror, mouth forever frozen in a silent scream, the face begged surcease which would never come. Other faces loomed up within the encasing material, all agonized, all ridden by never-ending terror.

  Bhajong, Rian knew, though he had seen but a few in his life. Those few had been armed and armored, raiding parties who had descended the feeder tubes to savage outlying Gagash communities. In death the Bhajong held no such beauty as these. The dead were cold, their faces cruel in rictor, drawn into feral snarls, their eyes beady and hard.