Song of the Serpent

by Hugh Matthews

  In answer, she swore again, but not at him—more at the world in general.

  "What has happened to him?" Krunzle said. He stooped and held his light nearer.

  "Something," said Raimeau, "has sucked all the life out of him. Blood, juices, every drop."

  "Orcs?" said Krunzle.

  Brond answered. "Not orcs."

  "A lily-head?"

  The dwarf turned his bald head toward Raimeau. "I don't know," said the thin man.

  Chirk? the thief asked, inwardly. But the snake did not speak in his mind, though Krunzle had a clear sense that the creature was fully alert, fully engaged in this moment. Aloud, Krunzle said, "Raimeau, take my lamp," and when the thin man took hold of the lathe from which it hung, the thief knelt and expertly ransacked the corpse's pockets and wallet. The motions of his hands several times caused the dry bones to rattle and rasp against the equally dry bag of skin to which Wolsh Berbackian had been reduced.

  "Nothing," the thief said, when he had finished his search. He swore and rose, taking back his lamp from the gray-haired man. "For a moment, I hoped that my part in this adventure might have finally come to a conclusion."

  Far from it, said the voice in his mind. It was louder and firmer than ever, and there was more than a hint of sardonic humor in the comment.

  "If he did not have the talisman," said Gyllana, "where is it?"

  Raimeau looked back along the blackness of the tunnel and at the crevice whose mouth was limned in blue light. "An orc must have taken it."

  "Why?" said the woman. "What use is it to an orc?"

  "What use was it to Berbackian?" said Krunzle. "Except to lead him to an unappetizing death?"

  Brond took hold of the mummy's doublet and hauled the corpse off to the side, where lay the orc Skanderbrog had skewered. "The answer," he said, "is at the other end of this crevice. I'm going in there. I want to know what's going on in my mountain."

  "Bad stuff," said the troll. He indicated the mummy with one claw-tipped finger. "That thing stinks of snake magic. And, if you want my opinion, I don't believe this mountain thinks of itself as belonging to you."

  "I'm going in there," said the dwarf. "You don't have to come." He looked around at the three humans. "That includes you."

  "Well, in that case—" Krunzle began, but found himself unable to complete the sentence.

  No more jokes, said the voice in his mind as the snake loosened its strangler's grip on his throat.

  "I need to know," said Gyllana. The thief watched her and thought, And you need to see the diamonds.

  Raimeau only shrugged. "Somehow," he said, "this concerns my destiny."

  "My mother always said, a promise is a promise," said Skanderbrog. "But I agreed to fight orcs for a steel sword. I've done that, except for one hammering at the rock in there. If you want me to, I'll kill him, too. But after that, it's a whole new game of scuffle."

  "Scuffle?" said Raimeau.

  "Young trolls play it," was the answer. "You start by tying your ankles to your opponent's with a couple of cords about this long. Then you each take up a short cudgel—"

  "Enough said," said the gray-haired man. "I'll imagine the rest."

  Chirk said, in Krunzle's mind, You go back in. Kill the orc. Cut your way through the rock. The snake's tone left no room for argument. The thief readied lamp and sword once more and, signaling to the others that they should wait, stepped back into the crevice.

  The orc warrior was hammering, his huge back and shoulder muscles bunched with effort. He paid no heed to the man creeping up behind. Krunzle paused to watch, no more than an arm's length from the orc's back, wary of some trick; orcs, after all, rarely offered an enemy such an opportunity. But then, these were no ordinary orcs.

  Get to it, said the voice in his head, or else. The nature of the unspecified threat was made clear by a brief contraction of the bronze ring around Krunzle's throat. He growled, left with no option, and moved forward, sword arm extended. With his full weight behind it, the weapon's point touched the back of the orc's neck while the creature was in mid-swing of the hammer, and passed clean through, half-severing the head from the body. Blood spurted rhythmically from a bisected artery.

  The orc shivered but did not even pause in completing the strike of hammer against chisel head. It shook again, then drew back the instrument for another blow.

  Finish it.

  Krunzle obeyed the voice in his head. He sawed the sword blade sideways, the magically enhanced edge cutting through the other half of the orc's neck as if through water. The head toppled from the stump of neck with one last gout of arterial blood. The orc's legs folded and he fell to kneel against the end of the crack, his tools striking the ground with a last, single ring of metal on stone. His head lay beside him, eyes open and staring up at Krunzle with a resentment that, in a moment, faded into the glaze of death.

  The man looked up from that meeting of gazes to where the orc had been hammering near the top of the crevice. The glint of blue that had been there before was now the size of a robin's egg. A sensation like a jolt of cold energy erupted from the back of his mind, but he was already moving to sheathe his sword and reach for the tools. A moment later, even as Chirk said, Yes! in Krunzle's head, the thief was straddling the dead orc, driving hammer against chisel. Both were slippery-sticky with orc blood, but he paid no heed as he hammered and levered, hammered and levered, his arms extended to their full length over his head, cracking off chunks of the friable volcanic rock, the detritus striking his chest and shoulders, then falling to pile up on the floor and the corpse.

  The patch of blue grew to the size of a Kersite silver piece, then as the chips flew it quickly grew to the size of Krunzle's balled fist, then to that of a saucer. At first he'd thought he was uncovering a gem of great size, but it soon became clear that "great" would have to be replaced by "gargantuan and then some." The more he chiseled, the greater the expanse of blue diamond became.

  The barrier of rock separating the end of the crevice from the gem was about two hand-widths thick. As he cut away rock, the narrow space filled with light. From the diamond poured a cold, blue radiance that lit up his hands and arms, and dazzled his dark-adjusted eyes.

  He paused for a moment, the better to see what he was about, and instantly felt a constriction about his neck. Work! said the voice in his head.

  "I will," he said aloud. "I stopped only to see how best to go about it." The snake subsided, but the man was aware of a stir of tension in the place within him where Chirk was to be felt. "The body is in the way."

  Brond's voice spoke from behind him. "Raimeau and I will drag it clear."

  So intent had he been on his hammering, Krunzle had not heard them come up behind him. He squeezed against the wall of the crevice while they seized the dappled orc's headless carcass and pulled it rustling across the stone-strewn floor. The gray-haired man came back for the head, which he nonchalantly threw out into the tunnel.

  Krunzle readdressed himself to the hole, but his hands were unused to the labor and began to tire. "We could use Skanderbrog in here," he said, "to widen the fissure."

  "He is gone," said Raimeau. "He reminded us that he was with us only until the last orc fell."

  "Let me," said Brond, reaching for the tools. "It is the kind of work we dwarves do best, after all."

  Chirk made no objection, so Krunzle handed over the hammer and chisel. The dwarf could not reach as high as where the blue smoothness began, but he set to work below the spot with a dwarf's metronomic stroke. And soon a second source of blue light shone into the crevice. Brond paused and put his eye to it.

  "Can you see anything?" said Raimeau, hovering over the bald one's shoulder.

  "Nothing," said Brond. "It's too bright. It's like staring into a star."

  Krunzle stooped and looked. He, too, saw nothing but a prismatic dazzlement, with no way to guess the size of the crystal into which he gazed. The gem might be the size of a room, he thought, wealth beyond even my dreams.

>   Fool, said Chirk. Keep at it. We will not have much time.

  They took turns, the two men and the dwarf. First the two exposed regions became the ends of a narrow band, which they then extended to the floor of the crevice. Then the band was gradually widened, starting at the top. Krunzle was working the upper segment when the voice spoke in his head again: Wait!

  What? he said.

  Put your hand against the surface.

  The man did so.

  Now, run your finger down. What do you feel?

  Nothing. No, wait, what was that? His finger had found, just where the left side of the strip of gemstone disappeared into the rock, the edge of an indentation.

  Clear it! said Chirk. Quickly!

  Krunzle applied his chisel to the spot and in moments had uncovered a circular depression in the blue hardness. It was a little larger than the tip of his finger. When the snake told him to put his finger in and push, he did.

  Something clicked and the smooth surface receded, as if it were a door that had swung inward on a silent hinge. "It's a door," he said. And beyond it was a hollow space of unknown size from out of which the blue light shone with even greater brilliance.

  The gap it left, between the two sides where the edges of the crevice ended, was just large enough for Krunzle to push his head through and look around.

  "It's a cavern," he said, twisting his head up and to the sides. "But I can't see how big it is because it must be completely lined with blue gems. And there has to be some source of light, because it's reflected from all sides. I keep waiting for my eyes to get used to the glare, but they don't. I can't see anything but blue brilliance."

  "Let me at it," said Brond. He took the hammer and chisel, and for a while there was the steady chink, chink of his labor, while the light spilling from the widening crack grew ever brighter.

  When Brond tired, Raimeau did not offer to take a turn. Instead, the gray-haired man was seated on the floor of the crevice, a piece of wood in one hand and a small knife in the other. He had cut one of the lathes into portions the length of his hand and was whittling at one of them. Krunzle could not see the use of what he was doing, but Chirk did not give him time to dwell on it. Cut! said the voice in the thief's head, and he took up the tools and got busy widening the base of the opening.

  The volcanic rock was easier to cut than granite or marble, but it was still a time-consuming and painstaking process. Gradually, the hole grew. The thief pulled back. "I might be able to wriggle through," he said.

  "If you can't," said Raimeau, looking up from whatever he was doing with the knife and wood, "I may."

  Let him try, said Chirk.

  "Be my guest," said Krunzle.

  The thin man swept away the rubble of rock fragments and lay on his back. He stretched his arms through the gap, tested his shoulders against its width, bent his knees, and pushed and wiggled his way into the blue radiance. A moment later, he said, "I'm through," then his legs and feet followed the rest of him out of sight.

  "Can you see anything?" Brond said.

  "Oh, yes," came the answer. "Take a look for yourself." Through the gap came Raimeau's hand, holding a piece of the lathe he'd been working on. Two narrow slits had been cut lengthwise into the flat surface. "Look through it," he said, then offering another to Krunzle as Brond took the first, "and here's one for you."

  The thief looked high while the dwarf looked low. Peering through the slitted wood canceled most of the glare. Now when he looked through the gap he saw shapes: on the far side of the space, columns of blue crystal stretched up from a floor of the same stuff, a series of broad steps leading up to a dais, on which stood a carved ... "It's a throne room," Krunzle said.

  "No," said Brond, "it can't be, buried in a mountain. I say it's a tomb for a king." He put down the wooden slit-goggles and took up the hammer and chisel again. "We must get through."

  "Give me tools," said Raimeau. "I can work from this side."

  There were tools scattered about in the tunnel, dropped by dying—or in some cases, already dead—orcs. Krunzle went to get them, with Chirk encouraging him to hurry. At the mouth of the crevice he found Gyllana, arms folded across her chest, staring into the narrow passageway, one foot tapping with impatience.

  "When?" was all she said.

  "Soon," was all he answered.

  Moments later, he was hammering above Brond's head while the dwarf enlarged the lower part of the gap, and Raimeau gouged and cut away rock from the other side. Now the hole widened quickly, and it seemed only moments before the bald dwarf could put down his tools, turn himself sideways and scrape through the opening. Krunzle came right on his heels, then Gyllana.

  "You are right," said Raimeau, looking about through his slit-goggles. "It is a tomb."

  "But not for a dwarf," said Brond.

  "Nor for a man," said Gyllana.

  Krunzle said nothing. He had made his way to the throne and was running a hand over its carved back and arms. Even with the vision-aid Raimeau had fashioned, it was difficult to make out the intertwined shapes of the carvings; they seemed to flow into and through each other like a nest of amorous snakes. And they were all cut from blue gemstone—indeed, from one great blue diamond, he realized—and the throne, the steps, and the pillars were themselves only smaller parts of a single, truly immense stone from which, and within which, the entire chamber had been fashioned.

  With the goggles, it was possible to tell that the source of light was coming from above. There must be a shaft reaching from the gem to the light of day, perhaps a mile or more above them in the cone of the volcano. And the shaft itself, he theorized, must be lined with light-catching and reflecting diamonds, in order to bring the radiance this far underground.

  "These are no ordinary gems," he said. He had spoken aloud, though to himself, but an answer came from within: a disdainful clucking of tongue against teeth that no snake could ever have made, but it was followed by Chirk's voice saying, Of course not, fool! Now, look around and find the sarcophagus!

  You know what this place is? the thief said.

  Do as I say! There is no more time left for chatter!

  A jolt of white-hot pain shot up the man's spine and down both legs. He went rigid for an interminable, agonized moment, until the snake let loose of his nerves. "All right," he said. "Where do I look?"

  "What is the matter?" Raimeau was beside him.

  "This," Krunzle said, indicating the metal coiled about his neck. "It lacks patience."

  Chirk said, Do you need another?

  No. To the thin man, Krunzle said, "He says there is a sarcophagus here, and wants it found."

  They both put their goggles to their eyes and looked about. The chamber was deceptively large—even with the vision-aids to reduce the glare, it was difficult to see where floor met wall or wall met ceiling; distances seemed to grow or shrink as they looked across them.

  "There is more than light playing tricks here," Raimeau said. "But there is something large on the other side of the chamber."

  Chapter Fourteen

  "Call It My Fate"

  Krunzle and Raimeau made their way from the dais and throne across the glistening floor. Brond joined them. "You're right," he told the thin man. "If Skanderbrog were here I think his snout would be wrinkled all the way up his forehead and he'd be complaining about a stink of snake magic coming from every quarter."

  "This does not look like a sarcophagus to me," Krunzle said. They had reached the object where it stood against the far wall and, at closer range through the anti-glare goggles, could make out its shape and size: an oblong that was waist-high to Krunzle, twice his width, and as deep as his forearm from elbow to wrist. "A cabinet," he said, running his hands over its surface. It too was carved with interpenetrating serpentine shapes, all of the same blue gemstone, and it too was one with the floor from which it rose.

  His exploring fingers found a groove in the front, leading to a hole, just like the one that had opened the door into the chamber.
He slipped a finger into the space, pressed, and felt something give. With a tiny click, the front of the cabinet opened on hinges of carved diamond. Krunzle stooped and looked inside. "Well, now," he said.

  Inside were objects made not of diamond, but of pure gold. He reached in and lifted one, saw that it was a vessel of some kind, but empty; another was a beaker with a spout for pouring; and there was an assortment of plates and other vessels.

  Raimeau squatted beside him and examined the cabinet's contents. "Not a king, then," he said, "A wizard."

  "And still not a man nor a dwarf," said Brond. "See, there is script of some kind on some of the items, but like none I have ever seen."

  Gyllana said something, then, but Krunzle did not hear it because he was distracted by another searing burst of pain that shot from coccyx to pate, followed by a voice that grated in his head: The sarcophagus! Find it!

  He had dropped the glare-goggles when the agony struck. Now, cursing, he bent and picked up the piece of wood, and as he did so, he noticed a discrepancy. "There is a smudge here," he said, pointing to the floor.

  Raimeau joined him and peered through his own vision-aid. "No, not a smudge. There is something below the floor. You can just see it through the diamond."

  There will be a lock, said Chirk. Find it!

  Krunzle knelt, and felt with fingertips above the indistinct dark shape he could see through the gemstone floor. His spine still glowed with a residual ache from the pain Chirk had dealt him, and he thought about revenge, until another jolt made him yelp. After that, he concentrated his mind on the task at hand.

  The others had joined him, quartering the floor on their hands and knees, and it was Gyllana who said, "Here! I have it!" Her finger touched a spot on the floor—a spot like any other to the thief's eyes, until he slid his finger next to hers and felt, not a depression, but a small piece of gem that slid aside when he pressed it in the right direction. Below was a hole.

  Step back! the snake ordered. Tell them!

  The man did as he was told. Then Chirk ordered him to inspect the hole, by eye and by touch, and he knew that the snake was experiencing the same sensations, transferred to it through his own sensorium. At last, he heard a grunt in his mind, and Chirk said, Good, we are in time. It has not yet begun to stir.