by Hugh Cook
'No member of my family, you can be sure of that,' said Jon Arabin, wiping his own blade.
A feeble tremor ran through the creature's legs. Arabin suspected it was not necessarily entirely dead. It was smaller than most of the Penvash monsters - otherwise it could not have forced itself through the Door.
'Come on,' said Arabin. 'Let's be getting while the getting's good. Mulps - lead the way, darling.'
'Sure, Jon, me pretty one,' said the Walrus. 'That I will.'
.Stepping through the Door, he vanished.
'Where does this Door go to?' asked the stranger.
'You know about Doors, do you?' said Jon Arabin.
'Do bears shit in woods?' said the stranger.
'How would I know?' said Jon Arabin. 'They're not in my family either.'
Something strange came through the Door. What? Just a gust of leaves and smoke from the burning eucalyptus forest.
'This Door goes to hell for all I know,' said Arabin, once the last of his men was through. 'But I'm taking it!'
And he jumped through himself.
The stranger hesitated for a moment - then two warriors jumped through, swords in hand. There was some vigorous hacking and slashing before both were disposed of. Then the stranger, not bothering to clean his blade, looked round, shrugged, and leaped through the Door.
They were, this time, in a landscape altogether different, dominated by a huge hell-hammering trench of flame which snaked through the landscape just to the north of them, an arrowshot across if it was a fingerlength.
The marble plinth here stood in the fringes of some tough, low-living forest dominated by dense drifts of gnarled trees with dark green spiked leaves which, on examination, were more like thorns than the pine needles they superficially resembled. Nearby was a tall tower, with an outcrop of fortifications at its base. A couple of leagues to the west stood another such tower, and, further west again and on the far (northern) side of the flame trench, a third.
Directly north, on the far side of the flame trench, rose a monstrous pink buttress of rock. Off to the east were some purple-coloured mountain-hills.
'Hell's name!' said Meerkat, raising his voice above the thunder of the flame trench, which shook the very ground. 'Where are we?'
'We're on the wrong side of Drangsturm,' said the stranger they had lately acquired on the ocean cay. 'We stand in the fringes of Defelfankarzosh, which means the Forest of Desolation. It is impassable, even to Southsearchers. The towers you see on our side of the flame trench are Nidbelzik and Torameer, the twin Pillars of Exile, unused now for generations. The rock north is Girik, which means Footstone.'
'How do you know all this?' said Arabin. 'Who are you?'
T have gone by many names in many places,' said the stranger. 'But know that I am truly Guest Gulkan, rightful ruler of Tameran.'
'Aye,' said Ish Ulpin boldly. 'But Tameran decided it couldn't be ruled by something which looked that bad-ugly.'
And he laughed.
Drake ventured toward the flame trench, partly so he would be out of the way if Ish Ulpin came to blows with the stranger, partly so he could satisfy his curiosity.
At last, he was able to peer into the depths of Drangsturm, where whirlpools of molten red seethed and snapped. The rock of the nearest edge lay in ridged ropes, but on the far side it stood in regular masonry-blocks, albeit blocks of outlandish size. Drake smelt something burning. The soles of his boots! Ouch! That was hot! He retreated swiftly to the others.
'—or can we walk it?'
Thus spoke Jon Arabin.
'Of course we can walk it, all things being equal,' said the stranger, Guest Gulkan, pretender to the realms of the Lord Emperor Khmar. 'After all, it's less than a hundred leagues from the Central Ocean to the Inner Waters.'
'But even if we reach the Castle of Controlling Power,' said Ika Thole, 'we'll be on the wrong side of Drangsturm.'
'You ignorant old pessimist!' said Drake. 'Have you never been to the castle? I have! There's bare basalt between the end of Drangsturm and the sea.'
'The lad speaks right,' said Guest Gulkan.
'Not about my age,' said Ika Thole. 'For I'm young still. Though this risk is like to age me to death by nightfall. Why walk those leagues when we've got the Door?'
'Known dangers are safer than an unknown Circle,' said Guest Gulkan.
'Aye,' said Drake sagely.
He had his own reasons for wanting to get to the Castle of Controlling Power, even if it was half a hundred leagues away, give or take a bit. That was where he had last seen the high-breasted Zanya Kliedervaust, the love of his life. True, that was long, long ago - but some wizard would know where she had got to. Surely.
And there was the matter of magic liquor, too. Stuff like that he had sampled at Brennan. The cure for sobriety! In just a few days, he might, with luck, be raging on a real skull-splitting dog-vomiting drunk!
Belatedly, he remembered that a sentence of death awaited him if he reached the castle. But - a little matter like that? He'd handle it easily. Surely. He had his amulet still, didn't he? He'd buy his life from the wizards with that magic medallion.
'Water,' said Rolf Thelemite.
'Water,' said Guest Gulkan, meeting his gaze.
These two, Thelemite and Gulkan, knew each other of old. But neither betrayed the alliance forged in their youth. With masterly self-control, they comported themselves as strangers. Neither knew what business the other was engaged in. Secrecy might prove of advantage, so . . . they broke their gaze, both resolving to delay greetings till they could talk in private.
'Water, yes, that'll be a problem,' said Thelemite. 'Fifty leagues - that's five marches. The Rovac can make a double march between sunrise and sunset . . . but even so. . .'
'We can reach through the Door to whatever lies ahead, seeking water,' said Guest Gulkan. 'That has its dangers, but it's worth the risk.'
'I'd worry more of the Swarms than of water,' said Ika Thole. 'We're in the terror-lands now, are we not?'
'Yes,' said Guest Gulkan, in a confident voice. 'But the Swarms stay well clear of Drangsturm, for they fear the wizards.'
At which Simp Fiche shouted:
'Look! Look! Something in the forest!'
It was a centipede. It was green. It was a hundred paces long. It stood half as high as a horse - and it was not alone.
'That,' said Ika Thole, with a hint of satisfaction in his voice, 'looks very much like a monster of the Swarms to me. And where there's one there's a hundred, I'll tell you that for nothing. In fact—'
He broke off, realizing nobody was interested in listening. Indeed, most had already fled Elsewhere. And, as the centipede (and its friends) hastened forward, Thole fled himself.
Beyond the Door was a steep snow-clad mountainside. It was bitterly cold, with a howling wind blowing. Thole wasted no time. Knowing monsters were close behind, he threw himself to one side - and started to slip. Rolf Thelemite, who had anchored himself firmly with his sword, grabbed Thole and saved him.
Then out came the centipede. It slithered over the plinth, and tried to turn sideways to get at the men.
'Hold my legs!' roared Guest Gulkan.
Whale Mike belayed him. Gulkan hacked at the centipede. It writhed away, then hauled more of its strength through the Door, giving it more length with which to lunge at him. It slipped. And hung, half in the Door, and half trailing down the mountainside.
Screaming, the men attacked. Those with weapons thrust and slashed. Those with none hauled on the segments, bundling more of the centipede down and away. The last of it slid out of the Door, and, doomed to destruction, it slid down, down, down and away, starting an avalanche before it crashed over a cliff far below.
'Good work!' said Jon Arabin.
'Aye,' said Peg Suzilman. 'And time to leave.'
He jumped onto the plinth, skidded on ice, flailed wildly as he tried to steady himself - and was seized by the fighting claws of a lunging centipede. Screaming, legs kicking, Peg Suzilma
n was dragged through the Door, back to the torn lands by the edge of Drangsturm.
Now they were twelve. (Not counting Guest Gulkan.)
'Quick,' said Guest Gulkan, 'while the monster's feeding.'
He jumped onto the marble plinth - then retreated smartly as another centipede burst through the Door.
While the centipede just had its head through, the Door snapped out of existence. The connection between Here and Elsewhere was broken. The centipede's head fell away from the steel arch, amputated cleanly as if shaved by a guillotine.
'Let's go!' said Whale Mike.
He scrambled onto the plinth, forced himself through the empty arch - and came out just a step from where he had started. He did this several times before convinced there was no more Door.
'Who was controlling the Door for you?' asked Guest Gulkan.
'Nobody,' said Jon Arabin. 'We had a star-globe. We left it where we started out.'
'That's fearfully dangerous!' said Guest Gulkan. 'You should always have a gate party, at the least. Why, if you' re half in and half out, you can get chopped in half if the Door dies sudden - just as that centipede was chopped.'
'We had no choice,' said Jon Arabin. 'We were under attack.'
'And now we're going to freeze to death,' said Ika Thole, with grim satisfaction. 'Aye, and suffer much avant death.'
' Sing happy song!' said Whale Mike.
'Before we sing happy song,' said Guest Gulkan dryly, 'let's start digging a snow cave. Look - over there, that flat place under the ridge. Good snow awaits.'
'What fun!' said Simp Fiche.
Jon Arabin looked up. The top of the mountain was not terribly far away.
'Drake!' said Arabin. 'You're volunteered. Scuttle up to the top to see what's there.'
T can tell you that now!' said Drake. 'Snow, rock, ice, wind and nothing.'
'Aye,' said Arabin. 'Or maybe a castle.'
'A castle of giants, perhaps,' said Ika Thole, dourly. 'Man-eating giants with great big iron cooking pots.'
'Sing song!' said Mike, a note of panic entering his voice.
The trauma of this venture round the Circle of the Door had obviously almost overwhelmed poor Mike. Drake could identify.
'No,'said Yot. 'Letuspray! Pray to the Flame!'
'Aye,' said Ish Ulpin. 'Offer a prayer of praise to this Flame, whoever He is. For He has given us Sully Yot, who's good for nothing else so might as well be eaten.'
T warned you!' cried Drake.
At that moment, there was a hum, and the steel arch filled once again with the blind silver of the Door. Yot, fearfully afraid of being eaten, rabbited through and was gone.
'Man,' said Ika Thole, 'what's the betting there's a dragon or such on the other side, munching young Yot at this moment?'
'Aye,' said Simp Fiche. 'Let's the rest of us go careful. Stick one man through, j ust the head. Then he can pull himself back, tell us what's on the other side.'
'Aye,' said Thole. 'And tell us if Yot's alive or dead.' 'Who cares?' said Ish Ulpin.
'Any man who lingers in a Door is a fool,' said Guest Gulkan, though he himself had suggested doing just that to seek water for a march by Drangsturm. 'Such a man could get cut in half like the centipede. No - quick through the Door, that's safest.'
And he led the way.
36
Aldarch the Third (aka Mutilator of Yestrori): tyrant who won throne in year Khmar 5 after seven years of civl war; first act as ruler was to disembowel his forty-seven brothers and feed his twenty-nine sisters to the Favoured Rats; notable acts of his reign include establishing the death penalty for all those below the Fourth Degree who dare talk, whistle or sing in the streets, or walk upright, or wear any shoe with a heel taller than a finger-width, or worship any god other than Zoz the Ancestral.
The first thing Yot saw when he came through the Door was a golden dragon. It ran towards him, roaring. Too shocked to do anything sensible, he screamed at it. The dragon promptly veered away, wailing. Poor thing!
It was an imperial dragon of Yestron. These gentle creatures are entirely unsuited for war, but they are, by tradition, taken onto battlefields as decoration. This one had broken loose from its chains, and was running about in a panic, demented by fear; its wings had been clipped, so it could not fly for freedom.
'Ah!' said Guest Gulkan, coming through the Door and looking around.'A battlefield!'
'No need to sound so enthusiastic,' said Yot, still shaken by his dragon-encounter.
'Courage, man!' said Guest Gulkan, laying a hand on Yot's shoulder. 'It could be worse.'
'How?' said Yot.
'It could be raining,' said Gulkan.
The rest of the pirates came through the Door, joining Yot and Guest Gulkan on a dusty plain of battle beneath thunder-cloud skies.
'Oh man!' said Salaman Meerkat. 'Where are we now?'
He got no answer, but, for the record, they were on the Plain of Tazala. The army of cavalry, elephants, armoured infantry, scythe chariots, skirmishers and Silver Archers drawn up a hundred paces west of them was that of Aldarch the Third, Mutilator of Yestron and the ruler of most of it.
The opposing army, similar in composition, and raising a similar racket of war-chanting, trumpet-blowing, drum-beating and cymbal-clashing, belonged to the rebellious Boo Taboo, once High Eunuch in Aldarch's court.
Both armies had more than fifty imperial dragons apiece, and the fear-crazed beasts were adding their voices to the uproar.
'There is war here,' said Guest Gulkan stoutly, 'hence there is opportunity.'
'Looks a bloody right dangerous place to me,' said Jon Disaster. 'I'm not hanging around.'
And he vanished through the Door.
'He smart joker,' said Whale Mike. 'These people not sing much happy song.'
And Mike followed Jon through the Door.
But the others stood their ground as a rider came from the west on a caparisoned black charger. He was a huge man in crimson-tinted armour, his helm topped by a war-crest in the shape of a dragon. The lurid device on his shield was a decapitated head, its hair held by a grasping hand with blood-red talons.
He halted in front of them.
'Hi!' said Salaman Meerkat brightly. 'How would you like to hire some mercenaries?' The stranger grunted.
He drew his sword, which was attached by a hulking length of chain to some part of his armour - so that, if knocked from his grasp in battle, it would not fall away entirely, but would dangle until he could reach down and retrieve it.
'All good experienced men,' said Meerkat. 'All—' But said no more, for the horseman lopped off his head. Guest Gulkan slashed at the horseman, Ish Ulpin grabbed him by the foot to drag him from the saddle, Simp Fiche snatched a sword from Thelemite and stabbed the horse—
And Drake, who saw no profit in any of this activity, jumped through the Door. He blinked against darkness.
'Here Drake,' said Whale Mike.
'What kept you?' said Jon Disaster.
'Man, we've got a party going on back there,' said Drake. And then: 'Where are we?'
He began to make out what was going on. Mike and Disaster were keeping three strangers at bay. It was night; the scene was moonlit; they were in a clearing on a jungle-covered mountainside. All three strangers wore rustling clothes of leaves or grass. The night was dense with heat and humid perfumes.
'This smell good place,' said Mike. 'This warm. We stay, maybe. Make friends.'
'What?' said Drake. 'By singing happy song, perhaps?'
'No harm to try,' said Mike.
As he started to sing, Drake assessed the moonlit tableau. As well as the three grass-clad strangers, he saw scattered bowls, a couple of dead animals and, further away, two pyramids of something which was perhaps offal. Drake guessed that, here, the Door was worshipped as a sacred shrine.
In the shadow-tangled jungle beyond the clearing, strange creatures - birds? insects? - talked in screeching voices. Since they made this much noise by night, Drake wondered what the ra
cket was like by day.
One of the grass-clad men tried to swat Disaster with a stick. Disaster cut the stick away with a single sword-stroke. Then all three strangers attacked him simultaneously. Reluctantly, Mike intervened with his titanium battle-rod, braining a couple of them. 'Let's leave,' said Drake.
'Nay, man,' said Disaster. 'We're winning, so why run?'
'We've won for the moment,' said Drake. 'But listen. Hear that? Sounds like people! Lots of them. Unhappy, too!'
As he spoke, a mob of grass-clad savages burst from the fringes of the jungle and attacked. Moments later, a brace of them had been broken by Mike's battle-rod, and the rest were running. Drake turned to the Door.
'You're not going, are you?' said Jon Disaster. 'They'll be back soon for some more games.'
'Then have fun,' said Drake. 'I'll see you later.'
'Nay, man,' said Disaster. 'Wait for the others.'
'We'll as like see them in hell as anywhere,' said Drake.
And, as Mike once more began to sing a happy song, Drake jumped through the Door. And instantly wished he had not.
In burning sunlight, a huge lizard-beast animated itself toward him on its two hind legs. Its front paws, built for grasping, had claws as fell as anything which ever stalked a nightmare. Drake was dimly aware of confused noise and shouting in the background, but all his attention was focused on the monster.
Yes, it was real.
Yes, he was not imagining it.
So . . .
'Nice to know you,' said Drake. 'Hello and goodbye!'
He leaped towards the Door - but was knocked down by a stranger jumping through it. Drake's sword went flying as they rolled off the plinth and onto the sand.
'Hey,' said Drake. 'We have to—'
Then said no more, for the stranger started to strangle him. The stranger was one of the men Jon Disaster and Whale Mike had so recently been contending with by moonlight.
Desperately, Drake fought to break the stranglehold. He could not! The stranger was strong, yes, built like a wrestler. Determined to kill. Drake, flat on his back on the sand, panting, sweating, struggling, saw the lizard-monster looming above them.