The Eye of Charon

by Richard A. Knaak

  But such was not the case this time. He breathed a sigh of relief as he slid over onto the other side. He paused to glance at the passage he had just made, marveling that his armored body had been supported by the haphazard mess.

  On this side, he came particularly close to one of the largest growths of lichen. Even so near, the Aquilonian could not fathom how they glowed so. He had never heard of such a thing, not that the lack of knowledge meant that it was impossible. The proof lit his way in a respectable if haunting manner for which he was very grateful.

  Nermesa glanced at some of the markings now visible. They were written in a script unfamiliar to him, which he assumed had to be an ancient form of Corinthian. By the appearance of some, he suspected that they were farewell wishes for the deceased, likely prayers that the afterlife would be a glorious one. Looking over his shoulder at the stench-ridden, makeshift river branch, Nermesa believed that the well-wishers would have been aghast at the fates of their loved ones.

  His armor proved to be more and more cumbersome as he moved, yet Nermesa was still loath to remove any of it. Yet, the breastplate in particular became more of an annoyance than a protection, its curved design making him unable to press as close to the vaults as he would have preferred.

  Finally, the Black Dragon decided to do what he had struggled in his mind to avoid. He paused and worked to remove the breastplate as quickly and quietly as he could. If he had to leave it behind, then so be it. King Conan would have been the first to tell him that it was the man, not the symbols, that were most important.

  Yet, as he undid the last binding, Nermesa grimaced. Here was the armor he had dreamed of wearing, and now he had to toss it aside like so much more trash.

  The water before him suddenly bubbled again, this time violently.

  The huge, cadaverous head burst out of the dank water, its grotesque appearance made more so by the unnatural illumination. Seen more fully, it almost resembled a human skull with an extended, crocodilian maw large enough to easily snap Nermesa in two at the waist.

  A waist now undefended by master-crafted Aquilonian armor.

  The creature let out a hiss that sprayed Nermesa with both water and foul breath. Gagging, the Black Dragon raised the loose breastplate even as the monstrous thing lunged.

  Teeth as long as Nermesa’s fingers clamped tight against the armor. Over and over the beast bit, seeking to destroy the only obstruction to its prey.

  Something slashed at Nermesa’s leg, something barely deflected by the shin guard. As he maneuvered to keep the breastplate between himself and the monster, the Aquilonian saw better the upper appendages located just behind the head of the serpentlike lizard. They were stunted, as he had earlier thought, designed more for swimming through cluttered sewer canals. However, the claws at the ends were long and sharp, likely not so much for rending but for better maneuvering over the piles of refuse.

  Still, they were perfect for ripping apart soft human flesh.

  The jaws released the breastplate. Despite its macabre, sinewy form, the monster could balance itself well on its hind body. Nermesa supposed that the rest of the torso and the lengthy tail enabled his fearsome adversary to manage this.

  Again, the subterranean horror lunged. This time it attacked the breastplate in earnest, snapping and chewing and tugging at it with abandon. The desperate knight felt his grip loosening.

  Over the hissing of the lizard, there suddenly came another sound . . . muttering that sent the hair on Nermesa’s neck standing.

  Glancing to his left, he saw across the sunken floor the demon with the gleaming crimson eye standing atop a collapsed portion of the vaults. The bones and wreckage of the final resting places of several dead lay at the base of the hooded form’s long, voluminous cloak, magnifying in their own way the evil the demon radiated.

  At that moment, the beast tore the breastplate free. Raising its head high, it shook the piece of armor several times, then spat the plate out. Nermesa’s armor splashed into the water, sinking out of sight.

  But in that brief time, Bolontes’ son kept his head enough to draw his sword immediately. Even as the pale monster hissed and lunged for the unshielded torso, Nermesa slashed with the blade across the beast’s underside.

  A shallow gash opened up just below the forelegs. It could not have done much harm to the creature, but the very act startled Nermesa’s horrific foe. It was doubtful that much of what the beast ate ever fought back.

  Encouraged, the Aquilonian thrust at the head. The serpentine creature twisted away and, with another hiss, went for his arm. Nermesa barely pulled back in time.

  Twice, the jaws came at him, snapping eagerly for any bit of flesh left unprotected. Throughout his trial, Nermesa heard the cursed muttering of the demon, clearly the force instigating the foul lizard’s relentless assault. Nermesa wished that he could do something to at least distract the hooded form, but he could barely hold his own against the monster.

  It came at him again, but this time the knight crouched low. He cut at one of the small limbs, but only managed to scrape the claws.

  Without warning, the beast sank lower, the head coming almost eye level. For the first time, Nermesa stared deep into the white, milky orbs . . . and realized that his terrible foe was blind. Accustomed to life with little if any light, it did not need to see as much as smell and feel. Only now did the Aquilonian notice the small whiskers sprouting from the tip of the muzzle and how the nostrils constantly sniffed the air.

  Yet the creature moved far too well even with the last two senses surely heightened. Nermesa could only conclude that the demon of the crimson eye also guided the lizard’s efforts.

  Momentarily distracted by the head, Nermesa failed to notice more movement in the water. Something shot forth and, before the startled human could react, wrapped around his leg. At first glance, Nermesa thought it a tentacle, then realized that it was the lizard’s tail.

  He tried to swing at it, but the tail suddenly tugged, pulling the Aquilonian from the edge. Arms flailing, Nermesa crashed into the cold, brackish water.

  Fortunately, in the process, some of the tail’s hold on him loosened. More by luck than effort, Nermesa kicked free. Without the heavy breastplate on, he managed to stay afloat better.

  Hissing, the lizard turned to attack. Grabbing at the retreating tail, the Aquilonian allowed the fiendish creature to pull him out of reach of its jaws. Furious, the lizard pursued, in its blindness not at first understanding that in turning, it constantly kept its prey from it.

  But the impasse could not last long. Before the lizard could comprehend its error, Nermesa pulled himself farther up the tail. The beast flailed its tail about, seeking to dislodge the human, but Nermesa held on tight.

  The captain caught a glimpse of the cloaked demon still gesturing but had no time to concern himself with what his other foe did. Inching forward, Nermesa finally reached the end of the tail. He raised his sword with the intention of skewering the lizard through the body.

  However, the subterranean creature twisted then, tossing Nermesa back into the channel. The Aquilonian collided with one side of the sunken floor and sank under the surface.

  It took no guessing to understand that the lizard would be upon him. His air almost gone, Nermesa used his free hand to try to push himself up. Instead, his fingers clutched one of several brick-shaped blocks, likely parts of the former floor. What little he could see thanks to the pale illumination from above indicated that the pile continued on into the black depths, a place Nermesa would surely also go if the lizard got a good hold on him.

  Even as that horrific vision came to him, he saw a shape closing in on his position. The lizard’s diabolical countenance filled his view. There was no time to flee to the surface, no matter what Nermesa’s lungs demanded.

  The jaws widened. The anxious officer seized the block at his fingertips and thrust it into those jaws—

  He jammed it in sideways as far as it would go. The savage teeth came within an inch
of snapping off his arm, metal and all.

  The lizard thrashed about. It let out a hacking cough under the water, then the head suddenly darted toward the surface.

  His own air gone, Nermesa had no choice but to follow suit. As he pushed up above the water, he heard a sound echoing through the ancient catacombs. The beast still struggled to free its throat from the block. It shook its head back and forth, twisted its long neck in a dozen different directions, but so far to no avail.

  Nermesa contemplated escape, but knew that the creature would likely free its gullet of its burden before long, then pursue him into the dark corridors, where he would be at a complete disadvantage. There could be only one way to finish this . . . if such a feat was at all possible for the Aquilonian.

  As if also aware of this, the monstrous lizard suddenly lunged for Nermesa again. That it had not yet dislodged the block meant that it could not completely clamp shut its jaws, but its fury was such that it desired nothing more than to lash out at the cause of its agony.

  Even without the threat of the jaws, the creature was formidable. The teeth were sharp enough to cut—and perhaps infect, what with the rotting garbage the monster ate—and the force of the head striking full on would be enough to send Nermesa deep into the water. The claws on the vestigial paws were also still dangerous, as was the long, wicked tail.

  Nermesa managed to bat the head away, but the lizard quickly renewed its attack. Twice, the beast almost forced its quarry underwater.

  As the hacking monster once again paused to attempt to shake the block free, Nermesa judged its movements. He had a slim hope, but it had to do with the lizard’s keeping its head above water, even if only by inches.

  So much time in the chill waters began to have its toll on him. Nermesa knew that he had only minutes before he would grow too sluggish to defend himself properly.

  Raising his sword high, the Aquilonian shouted at the lizard. The subterranean dweller paused in its efforts and turned its head in his general direction. The nostrils flared.

  Still hacking, the lizard went for the human.

  As the head neared, Nermesa tried his best to shift to the side of where it would strike. This he barely managed to do, the lizard somehow seeking to compensate despite its lack of eyesight.

  Nermesa wrapped his free arm around the neck just below the skull. The monster instinctively lifted its head, attempting to shake the human off. However, the weakening captain immediately wrapped his legs about the long neck, making it momentarily impossible for him to be dislodged.

  With an angry hiss, the lizard swung its head to and fro. As Nermesa clung for dear life, he studied the underside of the neck. It was scaled, but more softly than the rest of the body because of the need for flexibility.

  Pulling his sword back, Nermesa aimed for one spot that seemed particularly soft. However, as he did, he suddenly found the neck and himself plummeting.

  Striking the water was like striking rock. The force jarred Nermesa so hard that he nearly lost his hold. His legs briefly flung free before he managed to wrap them around again.

  Just as suddenly, he rose in the air once more. Nermesa glanced down to see himself higher than before. He felt the lizard’s body convulsing and knew that the aquatic beast was pushing itself to its limits to be rid of the thing clutching tight to it.

  Nermesa attempted to cut at the throat. However, once more, he and the neck dropped like rocks. This time, though, the Aquilonian managed to brace himself. When the collision with the surface came, it still felt as if he struck stone, but now Nermesa managed to keep his hold.

  He waited for the lizard to raise its head again, but, instead Nermesa felt the water rushing over him. The creature was trying a new and more lethal tactic . . . submerging.

  Unable to risk waiting any longer, Nermesa aimed his blade at the nearest soft section he could see. As his head slipped below the surface, he took a deep breath and plunged his sword through the scaled hide.

  Nermesa had hoped that the monster, still struggling with the obstruction in its gullet, would not dare sink too deep. With no gills and unable to shut its mouth properly, it risked drowning if it did.

  His blade sank in deep. The huge lizard suddenly hissed anew and began thrashing about. Undaunted, Nermesa shoved the sword in as much as he could.

  The lizard twirled on its back side as it sought to escape the sword. It pawed at the human but could not reach him. The tail whipped at Nermesa, twice striking him harshly, but not with enough to force the Aquilonian to ease up on his attack.

  Quickly grabbing another lungful of air, Nermesa turned the blade in the wound, opening the bloody gap further. Dark fluids spilled from the wound.

  The beast’s movements grew wilder. It spun, it turned, it flipped over. Despite his best attempts, Nermesa finally lost his hold. He slipped off the bleeding monster, barely missing being swatted by one of its forepaws.

  The grotesque head darted high. The lizard hacked, at last dislodging the ancient block. It turned its milky eyes toward Nermesa, its nostrils flaring—

  And then the head dropped into the channel with a tremendous splash.

  Nermesa clung to part of the broken edge, certain that the beast would revive. Instead, the sinewy form shuddered once, then stilled. Slowly, it began to sink . . .

  At that point, the Aquilonian realized that his blade was still embedded in the neck.

  Throwing himself forward, Nermesa reached out desperately for the vanishing sword. He made it to the neck just as the last of the subterranean monster sank beneath the surface.

  Taking a breath, the exhausted captain dove down. He barely made out the hilt just below him.

  His fingers grazed the weapon . . . then managed to seize it. Nermesa tugged—

  The sword came free. Clutching the blade, Nermesa left the behemoth to its dank, watery grave.

  With effort, he made it back to the edge of the channel. Sheathing his sword, the exhausted Aquilonian pulled himself up out of the water.

  “Nine lives has a cat,” grated a voice. “but a man only one . . .”

  Shaking, Nermesa peered in the direction of the voice. There, moving toward him, was the demon with the single crimson eye.

  Only now the figure was close enough that, for the first time, Nermesa saw that it was not a demon, not in the mythic sense, but rather a man ancient of flesh, and swarthy in the way a Stygian was. His features made him fit in quite well with the catacombs, for his skin was dry and contained little flesh beneath it. His foully grinning mouth was lipless, and his nose was a cadaverous beak. Greasy black hair flattened against his forehead. He stood at least as tall as Nermesa, but from the build of his skull the knight hazarded a guess that, beneath the flowing cloak, this unsightly figure was slighter in build.

  Yet what was most unsettling of all was what Nermesa had mistaken for the glowing eye of a demon. Down at the base of the forehead—and nearly between where a man’s eyes were—was fastened by links a large, multifaceted red jewel. It was at least as large as an egg, but tapered sharply at the top and bottom.

  Although Nermesa knew that he had been mistaken to think it a true eye, he could not help, when staring deeply at it, to imagine that he did see an orb within it . . . but one as inhuman as that of the beast just slain.

  As for the other’s true eyes, they were shut tight . . . nay, they had been sewn together, Nermesa finally realized. He doubted that even such a figure as this would have had done such willingly.

  “Nine lives has a cat,” repeated the sorcerer, for what else could he be? “But a man has only one . . . and you have used your allotment twice over now.”

  Nermesa tried to estimate his chances of reaching the cadaverous figure and found them too slight. He would have had to race across a precarious pile of debris or swim over the sunken floor. Either way, he doubted that the fiend would simply stand there and wait for death to come.

  “Twice over, I say,” rasped the dark-skinned man. “A matter soon rectified . . .
”

  He gestured at Nermesa and the jewel suddenly flared brighter.

  The catacombs rumbled, but not from any quake that Bolontes’ son could detect. Instead, the shaking seemed to come from within the vaults themselves.

  Gritting his teeth, Nermesa looked from the sorcerer to the catacombs.

  Something burst through the vault wall behind him.

  Nermesa did not hesitate. He threw himself in the water just as what felt like fingers grabbed at one leg. Nails scraped his flesh as he kicked free.

  He dove deep into the makeshift channel, letting the current carry him from the vicinity of the sorcerer and his spell. The pale illumination faded behind Nermesa, but still he sensed a tremor of some kind. Despite the weight of his remaining armor, the Aquilonian pushed hard in an attempt to put as much distance behind him as possible.

  When at last forced to, Nermesa thrust up to the surface for a breath. Total darkness greeted him. There was no hint of the evil he had fled, although Nermesa remained aware that it could easily lurk in the black void around him.

  Taking a risk, he kept his head above the surface as he continued on. The current increased more, easing his efforts.

  But then it began to grow too strong. Nermesa finally started toward the side . . . only to find himself unable to reach it. Weak as he already was, his latest effort made it impossible to resist the pull of the water. Nermesa was carried helplessly along.

  A moment later, he heard the rush of water. The current suddenly tossed him about. Nermesa grappled for some hold, but found none—

  And a moment later, was swallowed up.

  8

  AT SOME POINT along the way, Nermesa must have blacked out, for when he finally registered his surroundings again, he was still awash in water, but now he could see. More to the point, he could see forest, hills, and, most important of all, the sky.

  But although the Aquilonian was free of the sewers and lost levels of Tebes, he was not free from danger. Nermesa was still caught up in a violent current. Instead of a dank, underground channel, he tumbled along a raging river. That he had survived thus far, especially unconscious for a time, was a marvel to him, but if the work of Mitra, it had been only a momentary miracle. It was very obvious that unless he made it to shore quickly, he would yet drown.