by Sam Cheever
I looked across the crevice.
And nearly emptied my bladder, Slimy style.
Trickle, trickle, trickle.
Mouth hanging open and heart still slamming against my ribs, I was dimly aware of a soft sound down by my feet and a squishy weight on my shoe.
I really don’t like the looks of that, said the frog.
I really didn’t either. “Is that a…worm?”
Slimy only swallowed hard.
I couldn’t blame him. “I hate worms. They’re disgusting.” And that whole whacking them in half and making two worms out of one thing is just weird. I especially didn’t like them when they were as big around as a small car.
I slammed my mouth closed and swallowed copious amounts of spit. “What are we going to do with that?” I asked the frog.
For starters, let’s not make it mad.
I couldn’t help it. I snorted out a laugh. Worms had a lot to be mad about. First of all, there’s that whole fishing thing. Not good for the worm. Not even a little bit. And then there’s gardening. I glanced down to the frog on my shoe. “Do you know how many worms I’ve accidentally hacked into pieces planting stuff in my garden?”
Ixnay on the ackinghay, Slimy muttered. That’s not the way to keep it from getting mad.
We stared silently at the monster-sized annelid. I blinked, amazed I remembered that from science classes. I remembered the weirdest stuff. And generally forgot anything useful. “What do worms eat?” I asked the frog.
If he could have shrugged, I was pretty sure he would have. When they’re the size of a car, whatever they want.
I narrowed my gaze at the slimy creature, which seemed to have chunks of black dirt pasted along its greasy length. “Can it see us?”
We could try running for our lives and see, suggested the frog.
Running sounded like a really good idea. But then I remembered Grym and Hobs, still hanging on the wall. “We can’t. We need to help the others.”
The worm shifted suddenly. Its head? lifted off the ground and waved back and forth as if trying to sense something. I slowly bent down and scooped up Slimy. We started to back away from the massive worm, toward the wall where Hobs and Grym hung quiet and limp. I had no idea how I was going to help them. But doing it quickly had just become imperative.
The worm’s front half slammed back to the ground, shaking the cavern so hard I stumbled and fell. I hit the ground hard with my knees, and my teeth clacked painfully on impact. The worm was suddenly sliding over the crack, its massive body easily bridging it.
I wanted to believe it was simply slithering around, blind, but its movement seemed all too fixated on me for comfort.
You might want to start running, sayeth the bossy frog.
I forgave him his bossiness because of the hysterical edge to his voice. I shoved to my feet with my free hand and took off running. Moving slowly hadn’t done any good. And, though there was likely no way I was going to outrun the thing, I had to try.
Grym and Hobs hung several feet above my head. There was one of those eerily lit rock formations nearby and, though I was hesitant to touch it, not knowing what kind of magic it involved, I didn’t see any other options. I settled Slimy between the formation and the wall, thinking the worm wouldn’t be able to see or get to him there. “Wait here,” I told him. “I need to see if I can get them down.”
The frog didn’t argue, which spoke volumes for how scared he was.
I moved over to the glowy rock, reaching out and giving it a tentative tap with a finger to test it for heat.
It was warmish but not hot. I tried notching a foot into a niche in the side and pulling myself up, testing it for the ability to hold my weight. I didn’t know if the things were some kind of lantern, in which case they might not be very sturdy. Or just special, glowing rocks.
It felt sturdy, so I shoved upward, resting my palms against the wall to steady myself on the rounded top.
Behind me, a meaty swooshing sound told me the worm was on the move again.
There was also a low, rhythmic hum that might have been coming from the slimy monster. Or, it might have been coming from the lighted rock beneath me. In the cavern, sound had a funny way of sliding around, its origin confused.
I tried to ignore the encroaching nightmare and reached for Grym’s foot. He was still in his gargoyle form, and his eyes were closed, his chin resting on his chest. What had the artifact done to him? It was like he’d been put into some kind of stasis.
Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh…
I glanced at Hobs and gave a yelp of surprise. His blue eyes were open, and they were filled with fear.
Not asleep. Only immobilized. Was Grym awake too?
I tugged on Grym’s blocky foot. “Grym, if you can hear me, you need to fight this. There’s a massive worm in here and he’s coming after us.”
Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh…
Naida? the frog said, sounding nervous.
Grym’s foot twitched slightly in my hand, and a clump of black dirt sifted off him as a result of the movement.
I looked at the dirt laying on my hand, feeling a strange numbness that didn’t bode well. I realized with a start that the dirt was a numbing agent. Was that what had happened to Grym and Hobs? Had they been covered in the black dirt? The dirt was sticky and I couldn’t rub it off. In desperation, I tugged the small purse from my waistband and pulled it open, reaching inside for the tissue.
I blinked as my fingers found it, pulling it out.
It was perfectly clean and tidily folded again. As if I’d never used it to wipe blood off my arm. Weird. And really good. Because it meant the tissue was a magical artifact.
I scrubbed at the black dirt and, to my relief, it came off. The numbness started to fade.
Staring at it for a moment, I realized what I needed to do.
I reached up and wiped the tissue along Grym’s leg. I ran it quickly over his foot and up to one knee. Then I started on the other leg.
Naida! Slimy screamed behind me. “Watch out!”
The rock I was standing on shook as the thick, slimy form of the worm slammed into it. I screamed as I fell, smacking into the greasy body and sliding off onto the ground.
The skin of my body where it had touched the worm turned numb. I half crawled, half dragged myself into the crevice where I’d hidden Slimy.
“Don’t let it touch you,” I told the frog. I looked around for the tissue, which I’d dropped when the worm smacked into the rock.
I found the magical tissue near my foot, but my fingers wouldn’t work. The whole side of my body was completely limp.
The worm slammed into the rock again and I screamed. The formation above our heads cracked and the top two-thirds of it went askew. One more good hit and it was going to land on top of me. The worm wouldn’t need to make me numb. I’d be dead from the weight of the fallen rock.
I had to do something. Fast.
There was only one thing I could do. And, like everything else I’d tried, I had no idea if it would work. I lifted the fingers of my good hand and, filling my mind with the item I needed, sent a jolt of keeper magic into the air.
I watched it swirl away, sucking in a breath as it nearly got caught on the writhing monster above me. After a brief, terrifying hesitation, the magic shot away from the worm and disappeared through a ragged spot in the cavern wall on the other side of the crevice.
I closed my eyes and prayed it would work.
If it didn’t, my friends and I would never make it out of the poisonous black and white artifact.
Even as I had the thought, the worm reared up and swung its huge body into the rock wall where Grym and Hobs hung. Rock shards rained down on us, dust filled my nose and stung my eyes. I tugged Slimy close with my good hand and tried to wrap myself around him, praying salvation would arrive in time.
22
Gah! Have ye Lost yer Bleepin’ Mind?
Somehow I managed not to die. And, as a meaty “thump” hit the ground near my h
ead, I recognized Hobs’ muffled exclamation as he hit. I shoved upward as much as I could to look at him. I didn’t get far. My body was still almost completely numb on one side. Worse, I was bleeding along my arm and something was running into my eyes. When the numbness gave way, I was pretty sure it was gonna hurt like the dickens.
Some of the dust shifted and Slimy hopped out of it, the tissue stuck on his tongue. He hopped over to my hand. Here. We need to get out of here, fast.
He wasn’t wrong.
But I was hoping the reinforcements I’d just called would get there soon and help us with the worm. I had no idea why, but I was sure the secret to defeating the artifact was in that cavern. And I was determined to find it.
I clasped the tissue with the tips of my fingers and tugged it out of the frog’s mouth. Ew! There were probably fly legs stuck to it. I rubbed it against my numb hand and arm, slowly feeling the numbness ease as I moved the tissue over it.
When I could move again, I took a beat to peek over the rock at the worm and found it about twenty feet away, unmoving.
Maybe it was resting after all its work.
Or not. Upon closer examination, I spotted a silvery shimmer spreading slowly toward us across the floor. I watched it spread, realizing it was coming from the worm. Since I was pretty sure I hadn’t killed the monster with my mean thoughts, I figured that silvery stuff wasn’t its lifeblood running out.
It was more likely bad news for us. I turned over onto my belly and army-crawled toward Hobs, quickly washing him with the tissue. His face, hands, and arms clear, he grabbed for me. “Miss! We can’t let that wet stuff touch us. I saw it kill a bunch of snakes that it touched.”
Well, that solved that riddle. I quickly rubbed his legs. “I need you to climb up there and use this to free Grym.”
“But Miss, what about the big worm thing?” He pointed to the nasty annelid.
“I’ll handle that, Hobs.” I shoved the tissue at him. “Just get Grym free. I’ll need his help.”
He nodded and his eyes went wide as something whispered toward us through the air. Without even looking, I raised my hand and caught it, the warm, familiar hilt molding to my grip. A ball of tumbling feathers rolled across the cavern behind the sword, smacking into me and sending me to the ground with a mouthful of gray and black feathers.
I choked on the feathers and pushed the bird off my face. “Ugh! What’s with the less than graceful entrance?” I asked SB the Parrot.
“Bwawk! Bloody bleep!” He clattered his wings and rose to a spot on the broken rock above my head, landing crooked and nearly falling over.
SB, short for Sewer Beak, was suffering under a magical bleeping spell because his language was so bad. That was what happened when one spent the years of one’s life hanging around with a bunch of pirates.
“This be a bleepin’ unlikely place, Lass. I think its broken me eyes.”
I pushed to my knees, watching Hobs climb the wall like a spider and grasp the vines holding Grym to the wall. “Your eyes? What’s wrong with them?”
“They be seeing in the colors of death. I can’t live without me pirate colors, Lass.”
The sword in my hand danced across the air as if in agreement. I noted the monotone leather on the hilt where once it had been a warm, reddish-brown.
“It’s a color leeching artifact, SB. We’re trying to kill it.”
The parrot lifted his wings and cocked his head, feathers rippling with pique. “It’s a bleepin’ bloody crisis, it is. Bwawk! A man shouldn’t have his bleepin’ identity torn asunder. It ain’t bloody right.”
I nodded, deciding not to tell him that his colors might return if he stayed long in the cavern. The magic there seemed to negate the color-bleaching quality of the artifact.
I nodded. “You’ll be fine. Pull it together, parrot. I need your help with this giant worm thing.” I eyed the silvery liquid that had spread a couple of feet closer than the last time I’d looked. Was it moving quicker? The stuff had all but cut off our escape route, sliming the ground between us and the worm and all the way to the crevice.
“Aye, Lass. What is it you’d like me ta do?”
“I don’t suppose parrots eat worms?”
His whole body quivered with what looked like revulsion. “Gah! Have ye lost yer bleepin’ mind? I’m a grog and pineapple man, make no mistake. Sides, yer forgettin’ that I’m dead as a portal latch. I ain’t eatin’ nothing and I ain’t lettin’ nothing eat me.”
“Well, aren’t you helpful,” I growled out.
Hobs landed beside me and the parrot flew upward with a squawk, grayish-black feathers painting the air around him. “Bloody bleep, ya blackguard! Ye’ve no more sense than a bosun with a short barrel of rum and a long straw!”
Hobs grinned widely. “Mr. SB, welcome to the bad place.”
The parrot squawked again to show his annoyance.
The cavern shook under Grym’s descent. He landed behind me in a crouch, his blocky fists bracing him on the floor. I couldn’t help thinking he looked like a comic book hero when he did that.
The gargoyle lifted his dark-caramel gaze to mine. “Thanks for the rescue.”
I thought he seemed sheepish about it. Probably because he’d been supposed to rescue me. “No worries, gargoyle. Giant worms happen.”
His chuckle was a comfortable rumble in his rock-like chest. “What’s the plan?”
The worm shifted, its pointy front half rising slightly as if it was sensing our conversation. From what I’d read about worms, I knew they had no eyes, perceiving rather than seeing through sensors in their bodies.
The silver shimmer on the floor was only a couple of feet away from us. Whatever we were going to do, we needed to do it fast. I glanced toward the crevice, sliding my gaze to the spot where my keeper magic had disappeared. “We need to get to the other side of the cavern,” I told them, my tone filled with question.
Grym frowned at the oversized crack. “How’d that get there?”
“Long story,” I told him.
“Ribbit!” agreed the frog.
I looked at Grym. “Can you jump it?”
“I can, Miss,” Hobs said.
I wasn’t surprised. Nodding, I arched a brow at Grym. I could tell from his hesitation that he wasn’t sure he’d make it. His gargoyle form was heavy and strong, but not very agile.
“Maybe if I shifted back,” he finally said.
I grimaced, knowing he’d be naked if he did. There were no magical boxer shorts under that rock-like facade. “Um, okay. That’s one option.”
Sensing my unease, Grym nodded toward the encroaching liquid. “That’s not good. We stepped into something that looked like that earlier and woke up on the wall.”
“We need to get away from it,” I agreed, wondering if I’d called the wrong artifact.
The glowy green formations all flickered at once, the room pulsing with a sickly light.
Without warning, the worm reared up and charged right at us.
“Bwawk!” SB squawked loudly.
The worm’s thick body shoved the lake of silver liquid it had been making ahead of it as it hurtled in our direction.
“Off the ground!” I screamed, getting nearly decapitated as Hobs flew past me and landed on the broken formation. I grabbed Slimy and handed him to Hobs and then jumped up behind the hobgoblin.
My terrified gaze slid to Grym. I was relieved to see him standing on another formation. Relief left me a beat later as he leaped to another rock and then another, working his way around the worm’s numbing magic.
“Grym!” I yelled, wondering what he was going to do.
In the next moment, I realized the old adage was true.
Ignorance really was bliss.
Grym’s big feet hit the last rock and propelled him into the air. When he landed, he was sitting astride the worm. And my heart stopped beating.
The monster reared up, lifting its entire body off the ground and high, high into the cavern airspace.
Grym somehow held on, though I have no idea how he did it. The worm’s body had zero places to hold onto. No bumps, no curves, and slimy to boot.
I grimaced even as I turned to SB. “Go help him!”
The parrot rose, outraged, into the air with a mighty squawk, but he beat his wings and took off toward the worm.
Hobs clasped my hand. “Hold on, Miss!”
The world tilted, shifted around me, and returned somewhere behind the shimmering poison on the ground. I wobbled on my feet, my head spinning for a beat, and then looked up at the worm. I was looking at Grym’s back.
Turning to Hobs, I spiked my brows in surprise. “How’d you do that?”
He shrugged. “A space shift, Miss. I do them all the time.”
I narrowed my gaze. “You run really fast. I didn’t know you could actually shift space.”
He nodded, and I realized he could probably get us over the crevice the same way.
High above us, Grym let out a grunt of pain and I looked up in horror as the worm rolled underneath him and snapped at him with its nasty mouth.
Shimmering silver spittle flew through the air. Grym was in danger of being coated with the stuff again.
I looked at Hobs. “We’ll talk about this later.”
The hobgoblin shrugged. I took off running, slamming to a stop alongside the worm’s massive middle and slicing across it with the blade.
Nasty green blood oozed out and the worm bucked, silently writhing in pain.
Before I knew what was happening, the thing had flipped around, its mouth snapping mere inches from my head.
I jumped back, letting the sword have its full magic.
Above me, SB lunged and danced on the air, his dance mimicking the sword’s movements. The parrot’s high-pitched voice rang through the cavern as I swung the blade, spun away, and sliced again.
SB began the familiar refrain of the sword and I stepped into its rhythm.
“Ye might think ye’ll know, ye might think ye’ll see. But Blackbeard’s blade will cleave to thee.”