Conundrum

by Jeff Crook

  He strode clankingly toward the rubble pile. Sir Tanar dropped in behind, an evil twinkle shining in his black eyes.

  After walking up and down before the heap of stones for several minutes, Sir Grumdish stopped and placed his gauntleted fists on his armored hips. The belly visor swung open once more.

  “It has possibilities,” he said. “One need only look at it as an architectural puzzle, and one sees that the structure of the pile has several fundamental instabilities. The giants who built it obviously knew little of masonry, while I know quite a bit about the craft, it being in the family, so to say. My mother and sisters are all members of the Masons and Stonecutters Guild back in Mount Nevermind. With a proper fulcrum, a strong enough lever, and several proper steam engines, this pile could be brought down entirely.” He clanked a few steps closer and leaned back to get a better look at the entire problem. “Of course, we don’t want to bring down the entire pile. That might let the dragon out. We just need a large enough space for me to fit through.”

  Saying this, he approached a large boulder lying near the crevice and set his gauntleted hands against it. Machinery began to whine complainingly deep within Sir Grumdish’s mechanical armor, but the boulder did not budge. Metal creaked and groaned under the stress. A thin stream of smoke coiled from the left ear hole of his polished helm, and a smell of hot steel permeated the air. The whining had grown to a full-throated scream of stripping gears and bending rods when, without warning, there was a crack of stone from high above.

  Sir Tanar leaped back and turned to run, shielding his head with his arms, as the entire pile of rubble came roaring down in an unstoppable landslide. Choking dust filled the air, and stones crashed around him, pelting his back and legs. Dodging into the dark doorway of a nearby building, he narrowly avoided being crushed by a boulder three times his size. Here he hid, cowering in the dark, until the last echoes of the slide faded into nothingness. Then he crept out to survey the damage.

  “Damn gnomes!” he swore, mouth agape.

  Sir Grumdish was nowhere to be seen. A pile of rubble now covered the place where he had been pushing against the boulder. Sir Tanar did not pause to mourn, unless it was to curse his own luck. With gnomes, nothing seemed to work as planned. Sir Grumdish was only supposed to open a way large enough for him to pass in armor. Instead, the entrance to Charynsanth’s lair now lay wide open, and his offering to the dragon was now dead underneath a dozen tons of stone. His plans had all gone to rot.

  Not that it really mattered. He would just have to find a way to placate the dragon without the sacrifice of Sir Grumdish. In fact, this might even be better. He had intended to tell Charynsanth of the underwater passage that the Indestructible had used to escape her. Now he could keep that little bolt hole a secret. He might need it, once she had helped him gain control of the Indestructible. Yes, once he thought about it, this was infinitely better. He had one less gnome to deal with. If he did things right, he might not need the dragon after all.

  But of course, by the time he realized this, it was too late. Charynsanth was coming. The ground began to tremble beneath his feet, and the last loose stones, released by the shaking, rattled down the face of the landslide. He had two choices now, and neither of them seemed exactly safe. Red dragons were notoriously unpredictable. She might rush out and, seeing him, flame him without a second thought. But if he hid and revealed himself only after she emerged from the tunnel, he might surprise her, and then she might flame him without a second thought.

  Finally, he decided that the wisest course would be to stand his ground and show no fear. It had worked at their first meeting. He mustn’t show weakness now, he concluded, so he folded his hands into the sleeves of his robes and waited.

  This was not so simple a task as it might sound. To stand before an open tunnel from which an angry red dragon was about to emerge was a trial of the spirit. He trembled, sweated, and changed his mind a dozen times, even before the dragonfear struck him like a hammer blow to the chest. Then he heard the roar of Charynsanth, nearly blowing his robes off. Sir Tanar’s light gray wizard’s robes began to darken with moisture.

  Finally, she appeared, her long serpentine neck writhing cautiously from the shadows. “Well, wizard, I see you were as good as your word. Except for the promised morsel. Where is it? Your kender only whetted my appetite.”

  “Unfortunately, he was buried while opening your door,” the Thorn Knight answered, but this time his voice quavered with fear. He swore under his breath and tried to get a rein on his emotions.

  “A shame,” the dragon purred. “I do so want to trust you, but until then…" her voice trailed off in a bubbling snarl.

  Sir Tanar staggered and stumbled over a rock, then scrambled to his feet, yawning uncontrollably. He shook the cobwebs from his mind, fighting off a sudden and powerful urge to sleep. His wizardry instincts screamed sleep spell! She was trying to ensorcell him.

  Casting aside all his plans and schemes, Sir Tanar turned and fled down the rubble-strewn avenue. He had no power to fight this dragon, not even with the aid of the magical communication device-not out in the open anyway, where she could breathe her fire on him and use her natural armaments of claw and tooth, tail and wing. He needed cover from which to cast his spells.

  Long used to athletic endeavors, Sir Tanar’s long legs served him well, as did the fear pumping through his veins. He dashed down the avenue, hurtling stones and dodging boulders like a Palanthian steeplechase runner. Seeing what appeared to be a dark alley-although in this place of monumental construction it was probably nothing more than a space between two buildings-he skittered to a stop and dove inside without looking back to see if the dragon was following.

  He ran to the end of the alley without coming upon any crossways. The alley itself was far too small for the dragon to enter, so for the moment he felt safe. Dragging out the small flat box, he set it on the ground, then knelt before it and opened it. He lifted the magical silver plate from its place, feeling its magic surge through him, giving him new strength and confidence. The words to a protection spell came to mind, and he opened his mouth to speak them.

  But he never finished his incantation. A pillar of flame descended upon him from above, burning away robe, flesh, bone, wishes, desires, and regrets in one white hot instant. The flames splashed against the walls of the surrounding buildings, melting stone like candle wax. It flowed down the sides of the buildings and pooled in the alley, a little flame leaping up as it consumed the box. The silver plate, being magical, withstood the heat, but the molten stone flowed round it, encased it, then cooled and hardened.

  But by that time, Charynsanth had already gone, knowing now where the gnome ship lay. There was only one place it could be. The little pool at the low end of the city.

  31

  Conundrum rushed across the ship’s bridge and shot up the ladder into the conning tower, climbing through the hatch just as another blow rocked the Indestructible. A splinter of rock stung his cheek, drawing a trickle of blood.

  Below him on the afterdeck, Commodore Brigg danced an angry jig around the shattered boom, hurling curses as he tried to shore up the rigging while under fire from shore. Doctor Bothy lay flat out on his back on the deck, a queer smile on his pale chubby face. Conundrum leaped down beside him.

  “What’s happening?” Conundrum, asked as he knelt beside the prone doctor.

  “What are you doing here? I pushed you below!” Commodore Brigg swore. “I need you in the engine room. We’re under attack!”

  “By what?”

  “That!” the commodore shouted, pointing to shore where Chief Portlost and Captain Hawser surged back and forth across the sand, engaged in mortal combat with a black-skinned giant. The creature was at least fourteen feet tall, broad-shouldered and powerfully built, with a shock of hair and a patchy beard the color of fire. Its low, backward-sloping forehead and heavy outthrust jaw gave it a primitive, bestial profile, but a cunning light burned in its deep-set black eyes. In on
e hand, it wielded a broken-off stalactite as a club, using it to fend off the snapping claws of Captain Hawser’s mechanical crab. The two opponents circled one another, the crab darting in to snatch at the giant’s legs, the giant bashing back the crab with mighty blows of its heavy club, neither gaining an advantage.

  Suddenly, the giant lunged forward, smashing down with its club. Captain Hawser jerked back on the controls, sending the crab skittering a dozen yards down the narrow beach. In that moment, the giant stooped and, lifting a boulder in one fist, hurled it at the Indestructible. It sailed through the air with uncanny accuracy.

  Commodore Brigg pulled Conundrum down behind the prone doctor, using his portly bulk to shield them. The huge, heavy projectile bounced off the aft deck, rattling the ship to its timbers. But before the giant could follow up with another boulder, the crab scuttled back up the beach and renewed its own attack, driving the giant up toward the edge of the ruins whence it had appeared, suddenly and without warning, from the steamy fog a few moments before.

  Watching this in horrified amazement, Conundrum asked, “What happened to Doctor Bothy?”

  Frowning, the commodore answered, “When the first boulder hit us, it scared him to death, I think. He clutched his chest, smiled, and toppled to the deck, just as you see him. He looked at me and said one word-”Cured!”-before he breathed his last."

  The mechanical crab and the giant circled one another warily. Conundrum and the commodore crawled over to the wrecked boom. It lay half in the water, all but one of its bolts ripped from the deck by the giant’s boulder. “It’s hopeless,” the commodore said. “We’ve got to help Hawser and Portlost battle that thing, and to do that, we’ve got to be able to maneuver.”

  “But that means…” Conundrum began, his voice trailing off in horror.

  “We’ve got to cut him loose,” Commodore Brigg finished for him.

  “We can’t!” Conundrum cried. “He’ll die.”

  “If we can’t maneuver to help Hawser fight that giant,” the commodore said, “the professor will die anyway. This is something that has to be done. I don’t like it, but there’s no other way.”

  Seeing Conundrum hesitating, the commodore patted him on the shoulder. “Send him the message and my heartfelt thanks.” he said. “The professor will understand. While you do that, I’ll find an axe.” He crawled away.

  With his heart in his shoes, Conundrum found a hammer and began tapping out the commodore’s message. Under attack. Boom wrecked, and wench broken free. Commodore commends… He was unable to finish. His new friends were dropping around him like drunken gully dwarves.

  A moment later, a response came back, saving him the trouble of breaking the bad news to the professor. Cut me loose. Nearly out of air, anyway. Life Quest complete, as long as someone survives to record results. Will you?

  Conundrum brushed away his tears and answered, Yes. Sorry. Commodore commends your bravery and sacrifice.

  Cut me loose. Happy. No regrets. Thank you. See you on the other side.

  Conundrum nodded to the commodore when he returned, dragging a small hand axe behind him. The commodore’s bearded chin quivered as he hefted the axe above his head. With one quick chop, the blade sliced through the thick rope, and it slithered away through the pulley at the end of the broken boom and into the water. Glancing over the side, they saw the frayed end swirl for a moment in the green depths before slipping silently into the darkness below.

  Commodore Brigg stood up and shook his fist defiantly at the shore. “Hap-Troggensbottle, you shall not have died in vain! “he cried.

  But the giant and the crab were no longer visible. A thick fog had descended from the city above, enveloping the beach in a warm white cloak through which little could be seen. For a moment longer, they heard the hue and cry of battle, the ring of stone club on metal shell, angry snarl and clatter of bronze claw. And then silence.

  The steamy fog continued to roll down from the city’s numerous geysers and mudpits, eventually swirling across the surface of the water and enveloping the Indestructible. In this white dripping blindness, the commodore and Conundrum moved forward until they found the conning tower. They climbed up and found themselves above the mist, but only by a head.

  Commodore Brigg picked up the comm tube, blew into it, then said into it, softly, “Switch power from the dyno to the flowpellars. Minimum speed. Secure aft deck hatch.” The four crew members in the engine room obeyed, and the Indestructible slipped silently forward, turning to starboard under the commodore’s hand.

  “All stop,” he whispered once they were in position. “Prepare to flood aft ballast tanks.” The ship drifted to a stop, water lapping softly against her sides.

  Through the fog, they occasionally heard a grunted oath or the scrape of an iron claw over wet stone. What the fog would reveal when it lifted, neither cared to guess. Conundrum stood beside the commodore and gripped the rail until his knuckles were as white as the fog. Water dripped from the rusting metal and the stone overhead.

  Then the fog began to thin as though blown away by a freshening breeze. They felt the hair of their beards stir, and it brought with it a smell of brimstone. Commodore Brigg leaned over the rail to try to peer through the obscuring mist. One hand shot back and pulled Conundrum after him.

  Conundrum caught at the rail to steady himself, at the same time feeling the commodore’s hand trembling. He squinted, staring ahead, seeing the fog parting like many layers of snowy veils, opening, shredding, revealing once more the beach and what stood on it, facing one another.

  To the left, the crab crouched low with its rear angled up in the air, pinchers extended and open before it. Captain Hawser and Chief Portlost were visible through the gaps in its armor shell. To the right, the giant stood, back bent, stone club held defensively before it, snarling, eyes darting from the crab—

  –to the dragon.

  Conundrum gasped at the sight of it. Commodore Brigg began whispering urgent orders into the comm tube.

  Charynsanth crouched catlike between the crab and the giant, her great reptilian head twitching to glance first at the giant, now at the mechanical crab, her sulfurous breath hissing through bared fangs. Her wings fanned the fog nervously, helping to drive away the last tatters of the mist. She was by far the most powerful of the three opponents now facing each other, but in the blindness of the fog, she had placed herself directly between them, with the water blocking her escape in front, and her natural weaknesses of mobility on the ground preventing a rearward retreat. She knew she could easily dispatch either opponent with her breath weapon or a spell, but in doing so, she opened herself to attack by the other.

  The giant, though it looked a brute, was smart enough to know it stood no chance against the dragon alone. Its only hope was that she attacked the crab first. Then it could wade in with its club and crush her skull. Of course, Captain Hawser and Chief Portlost knew the same was true for them. If the dragon attacked the giant first, they might rush in and grapple her with the crab’s mechanical claws, but if she directed her attack toward them first, they stood little chance of surviving a blast of her fiery breath.

  And so all three waited. Captain Hawser twitched the controls, adjusting the crab’s stance in minute increments, trying to line his machine up for the best angle of attack should the dragon turn toward the giant. The giant shifted restlessly, black eyes darting, its huge boots grinding the sand underfoot, knuckles cracking as it tightened its grip on the club. Within easy reach lay a boulder large enough to crush the dragon’s neck to bloody pulp. Moving slowly, almost imperceptibly, it inched its way closer to its chosen projectile.

  Charynsanth watched them both, still unable to make up her mind which to attack first. Her tail lashed the sand in indecision. Her claws dug in beneath her, and fire bubbled in her chest. Her eyes narrowed, spotting the giant’s movement and divining its intention. A low hate-filled growl boiled up through her throat. She moved one clawed foot ever so slightly through the sand, twitched
her tail around in preparation for a lunge at the giant. Captain Hawser inched the crab closer, preparing to strike. The giant froze, its huge fingers twitching mere inches over the boulder it intended to grab and hurl at the dragon.

  Water dripped from the stones overhead, plopping noisily in the water. The Indestructible lay just offshore, unnoticed by the dragon for the moment. Conundrum stood glued to the rail, waiting for something to happen, feeling as though there weren’t air enough to breathe, as though he might suffocate before something happened.

  And then many things happened at once. From behind the dragon, Sir Grumdish appeared in his battered, dented, no longer shiny, and bloodstained mechanical armor, already at a full run, bent broadsword raised above his helm as he shouted the Solamnic challenge to a foe. Charynsanth spun to meet this new threat, but Sir Grumdish dashed in beneath her upraised wing and sank his blade to the hilt into her exposed neck. She screamed in rage and pain, fire erupting from her gaping jaws to engulf the giant, who had grabbed the boulder and was lifting it to throw. The giant staggered back, a living bonfire, and dropped both its club and the boulder.

  At the same moment, the crab rushed in to attack, one claw tearing into the dragon’s sensitive and softer belly scales, the other clamping onto her rear leg. As Charynsanth beat her wings to maintain balance and keep the crab from flipping her onto her back, one wing swept up Sir Grumdish and flung him fifty yards through the air, out across the water and over the Indestructible. He hit the water with a loud, metallic bellyflop and sank quickly out of sight, a final glint of his spurs shining up through the black water.

  Commodore Brigg grabbed Conundrum by the shoulder and screamed in his face, “Get below. Stand by to fire UAEPs on my order!”

  Shaken from his paralysis, Conundrum slid down the ladder and through the hatch onto the bridge, stumbled through the half light provided by the glowwormglobes, and located the two big red buttons on the weapons console. Snuffling, he wiped one sleeve across his nose and waited.