Oblivion's Grasp

by Eric T Knight

“Yes.”

  “Then I guess there’s no sense in putting it off any longer.” He clamped his helmet down on his head and lifted the shield. “Let’s go chop some weeds.”

  The six of them approached the Tower cautiously, Quyloc in the lead, Rome flanking him on the right and Nicandro flanking him on the left, both with shields held out in front of them, leaving only a narrow gap for Quyloc to see through. Behind them came the other two soldiers, shields held over their heads to protect them from above. Ketora was pressed close behind Quyloc.

  Partway there, Quyloc realized Ricarn was following them.

  “I don’t know if we can protect you too,” he told her.

  “I just want to get a closer look at the vine. I do not need protecting,” she replied calmly. “The vine does not see me.”

  Quyloc wondered briefly what she meant by that, but this was not the time to ask. He could afford no distractions. In his heightened state the leaves were so bright they almost glowed. He felt itchy everywhere, as if a rash had broken out all over his body.

  As they drew near the Tower the vine seemed to grow larger. It was much thicker and denser than it had been even that morning. Insects buzzed in its depths and there were hints of movement in the deep shadows within the leaves. A rustling sound came from the right and the leaves there shook.

  There were half a dozen flowers in the foliage covering the door and they all swung to face the approaching party. An intoxicating mix of reds and yellows swirled in their depths, drawing the eye in, beckoning, promising. Nicandro increased his pace slightly, moving ahead of the group.

  “Don’t stare at the flowers,” Quyloc said sharply, grabbing him by the shoulder and hauling him back. Nicandro shook his head and shifted his eyes away.

  “So, when you made your spear, you passed through a whole jungle of this stuff? Alone?” Rome said. He spoke in a whisper, as if the vine would hear. “I don’t know if you’re stupidly brave or just stupid.” A hint of a chuckle came from one of the soldiers behind them and Quyloc realized Rome was doing what he always did, finding a way to defuse the tension.

  “Open up a little,” Quyloc said as they reached the outer edges of the vine. “I need room to move.” Rome and Nicandro moved their shields to the sides and Quyloc stepped into the gap.

  He slashed at the first runners of vine on the ground in front of them, the spear slicing through them easily and scoring the stone underneath. When he did the whole vine trembled. The wounded runners slithered back, while the pieces that had been cut off writhed on the ground like dying snakes. Quyloc kicked them out of the way and pressed forward.

  “Ready to close up on my mark,” Quyloc warned Rome and Nicandro.

  He stepped forward and slashed down into the heart of the vine, cutting through leaves and thicker stems. The whole vine trembled. From the two closest flowers clouds of pollen suddenly puffed outward.

  But Quyloc was already calling a warning and jumping back and they closed up the shields in front of him, blocking the pollen cloud, which landed on the shields with the sizzling sound of water thrown into a hot frying pan.

  “Once more,” Quyloc said.

  They opened the gap between the shields and Quyloc leapt through. Two quick slashes and the flowers tumbled to the ground. The spear blurred in his hands and bit deep into the vine. Then he jumped backward.

  Rome and Nicandro slammed their shields together, crouching as the soldiers bringing up the rear brought their shields down to rest on the front shields. There came a sudden barrage against the shields as tendrils of vine shot out and struck them in numerous places.

  “Push forward now, before it can recover!” Quyloc said.

  They pressed forward, pushing the vine back with the shields.

  “Open it up!” Quyloc snapped.

  They shifted, once again opening a space between the shields. Quyloc hacked off pieces faster than the eye could follow, carving an opening and driving forward. The little party followed, packed tightly together, and then all of them were within the vine’s depths.

  It was dark in there, far darker than it should have been, the little light there was was gray and filled with shadows. Things whispered and scurried through the leaves. All at once Quyloc felt something larger making its way toward them, coming down the wall of the tower above them. They didn’t have long.

  Quyloc hacked and slashed in a frenzy, the cut pieces piling up around his legs. He felt the sting of something on his ankle. One of the soldiers behind him cried out in pain and stumbled against Rome’s back.

  “It’s got my leg!” the man cried.

  Quyloc turned, saw a vine wrapped around the man’s leg. He slashed and the vine fell away. Blood ran down the soldier’s leg.

  Quyloc spun back around just as a vine shot through the gap between the two shields. Before he could react it had wrapped around the haft of the spear. It tightened and pulled. He fought back, but it was too strong for him.

  Then Rome had his axe out, wielding it in one hand. He chopped down and the vine fell away. Quyloc tore off the remaining piece. Two more vines shot in and he barely had time to cut through them.

  It was hard to move; everyone was pressed so tightly together. The soldiers were grunting with the effort as the vine pressed ever harder against the shields. Quyloc began to think they had made a terrible mistake.

  Then the spear hit metal.

  The door.

  Quyloc hacked some more, leaves and stems fell and then the door became visible. He grabbed the handle and pulled.

  The door didn’t budge.

  Forty-three

  “It’s cutting us off!” one of the soldiers in the rear said.

  Quyloc shot a look over his shoulder. The opening he’d cut through the vine was rapidly closing up, new vines slithering in from the sides and dropping down from above, weaving together to form an ever more impenetrable mass.

  “Time to open the door, Quyloc,” Rome said. His voice was still calm. He might have been telling Quyloc to close a window against the chill.

  “I’m trying!” Quyloc snapped, jerking on the door harder. It still didn’t budge. In his mind’s eye he saw the inside of the tower packed with growth. He’d get the door open only to find that what waited on the other side was worse.

  “I can’t hold it much longer,” the soldier behind Rome rasped, fear evident in his voice. “It’s pushing down too hard. It’s getting too heavy.”

  “I got you,” Rome said, using the axe to push up on the man’s shield and help steady it.

  All at once Quyloc saw what was blocking the door. Growing across the base of it was a thick piece of vine as big around as his arm. He hadn’t been able to see it because it was obscured in the darkness.

  The first couple times he slashed it had no effect.

  A vine snaked around the shield held by the soldier behind Nicandro and tightened. The shield buckled and then it was ripped away, lifting the soldier into the air before he got his arm out of the straps and dropped back to the ground. He jerked his sword free and hacked at another vine as it wrapped around his ankle.

  “The door, Quyloc,” Rome said. Now his voice was rising.

  “Just hold on!” Quyloc yelled. It was hard to get a clear shot at the vine. Finally, he stabbed down into it and threw his weight against the end of the spear, levering the blade down through the woody mass.

  “Got it,” Quyloc gasped. He jerked the door open and they all jumped through. Two more vines shot in after them. One almost got a hold of Ketora, but Nicandro pushed her out of the way just in time. Rome dropped his shield and hacked at the vines with his axe until they withdrew. He pulled the door closed and dropped the bar across it.

  They stood in the tower, breathing hard. It was very dark.

  “That was close,” Nicandro said.

  “Are we going to be able to get back out?” one of the soldiers asked.

  “Of course we will,” Rome replied confidently.

  Quyloc felt around in the darknes
s and found the lamp hanging on the wall by the door. A few seconds later he got it lit and held it up.

  “Oh, gods,” one of the soldiers moaned.

  The vine had grown down the stairway that led to the upper floors of the tower. It spilled out of the stairway in a thick mass of green that filled the far side of the room. The leaves shivered.

  “In here,” Quyloc said, leading them across the room and into a storage room. Crates and barrels were stacked against the walls inside the room. He slammed the door shut behind them and immediately the soldiers started grabbing crates and stacking them in front of the door. Quyloc hurried to the back wall of the storage room and moved a barrel, revealing the trap door that led to the tunnels underneath the tower.

  “You men wait here,” Quyloc said to the soldiers. He started down into the shaft, taking the lantern with him.

  Rome looked at Nicandro. The stocky, dark-skinned man looked calm enough, but the faces of the other two soldiers were pale, their eyes wide. “That’s a strong door,” Rome said. “You’ll be all right. If you can’t hold it, though, follow us down. I think Quyloc said there’s another way out at the base of the cliffs.” He neglected to mention that the tunnel leading down there might have collapsed or that if the tide was in the exit would be underwater. No sense in upsetting them.

  “You going to leave us here without a light, Macht?” Nicandro asked him.

  “Quyloc, hold on a second.”

  Only Quyloc’s head was still sticking out of the trap door. “What?”

  “A light?”

  “Over there on that crate is another lantern.” He ducked down out of sight. Nicandro hurried to grab the other lantern.

  Rome climbed down the ladder. Once down at the bottom of the ladder, Ketora took the lead, heading off down the tunnel. Quyloc followed her, Rome close behind.

  Rome remembered the last time he came down here—when he convinced Quyloc to help him attack Melekath—and how poorly that turned out. He also thought of the first time he followed Quyloc underground, when they found the black axe. That didn’t work out so well either. He decided that he could develop a serious dislike for tunnels of any kind.

  Ketora led them to the place where the wide crack cut across the floor of the tunnel. She stood at the edge of the crack staring down. “One of the Shapers has been here recently,” she said.

  “Probably Lowellin,” Quyloc replied. “He’s come down here before to find me.”

  “I know this name. Melekath spoke of him. There is no friendship between the two of them.”

  “Was Lowellin after the crystal?”

  “He must have known it was here, but I do not believe he sought to take it. Without the help of a ronhym it is dangerous to touch such a thing, even for a Shaper. At the very least it would cause him great pain.”

  “But you can touch it?”

  Ketora nodded. “And I can open it. But I do not have the strength to connect it to the Heart of Stone power by myself. If more of my kind were here…” Ketora trailed off. “I would that we are done with this quickly, so I may return to my people. It has been far too long.”

  “What do you want us to do?” Rome asked.

  “Wait here.” And with that Ketora slipped over the edge. Quyloc held the lantern over the crack and the two men leaned forward to watch her descend. It looked as though the ronhym just kind of slid down the face of the rock, hands and feet seeming to stick to it with no trouble.

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Rome asked when she was out of sight.

  “What’s that?” Quyloc replied.

  “How are we going to get back out of here?”

  Quyloc nodded. “I’ve been thinking about it.”

  “Any thoughts on that?”

  Quyloc glanced at Rome. The lantern light left most of his face in shadows. “You mean something besides the usual Wulf Rome fare? Charge straight at them and ram it down their throats?”

  “I was hoping you’d have something a little more creative.” Rome didn’t add that he thought they’d gotten lucky on the way in. They might not be so lucky on the way out. Did that plant think? Would it try new tactics? What if they opened the storage room door and found the area beyond completely full of the plant?

  “While I’m honored that you’re finally actually interested in my advice, I don’t really have anything here other than charge the thing and chop as fast as you can.”

  “I was afraid of that. Some adviser you are.” Rome tried to add a chuckle to the end of that, but it didn’t really come out right. Would the weirdness ever end? Wasn’t it enough that they had to contend with the Children? Did they have to be attacked by bloodthirsty plants as well?

  They stood in silence for a minute. Rome didn’t like the silence. There were too many thoughts in it. “How’s your leg?” Rome asked.

  “Why do you ask?”

  “You were limping on the way in here.”

  “Something stung me. I’ll look at it when we get out of here.”

  “Something in the vine?”

  Quyloc nodded.

  “Aren’t you a little worried about what stung you?”

  Quyloc gave him a quick look before averting his eyes. His voice, when he spoke, sounded tired. “Yeah, Rome. I am. I’m actually terrified. Everything about the Pente Akka scares me. But somehow I keep having to go there so I guess I just have to deal with it. Maybe if we actually survive this I’ll just lock myself in a room and scream for a couple of days straight.”

  “That sounds reasonable to me.” And it did. Ever since he started going into the shadow world Quyloc had been telling Rome about the place. He’d seen the effect it had on his friend, how it haunted him. He’d seen him trapped by the place, on the way to Guardians Watch. But somehow it never seemed real to him. Somehow he’d always thought of it as something in Quyloc’s mind. Now here he was, his second encounter with the place, and it was all too real. Frankly, it was terrifying, like Quyloc said.

  “I’ve had enough of the Pente Akka,” Rome said.

  “Yeah. Me too.”

  Ketora was back a few minutes later, carrying a yellow crystal about the size of Quyloc’s forearm. As she neared them, the crystal changed colors, first turning orange, then deepening into red. Rome and Quyloc backed away. The thing’s presence was making Quyloc nauseated. A strange, sickly heat seemed to radiate from it and he rubbed his arms, feeling like he was going to break out in a rash.

  “Do you feel that?” he asked Rome.

  “I don’t know. All I know is there’s no way I’m touching that thing.”

  “It would be deadly to you,” Ketora said.

  “Thanks for the warning. But a person would have to be an idiot to touch that,” Rome said.

  “Let’s go,” Quyloc said. “Every minute we waste down here is another minute that vine has to prepare some new surprise for us.”

  They started back towards the surface, Quyloc leading, Rome behind him and Ketora in the rear.

  “You really think that plant thinks?” Rome asked.

  “I don’t know. But I do know this: it’s not actually a plant. At least, not like we think of plants. Nothing from that place is what it appears to be. Personally, I think the things in that world are trying to copy us. The whole Pente Akka is a copy of our world, a terribly poisonous copy.”

  “But I’ve never seen any forest like what was growing around that volcano.”

  “Neither have I. But that doesn’t mean there isn’t forest like that somewhere on our world, somewhere we haven’t been. Or maybe there isn’t. Maybe the things in there are simply that place’s rendition of plants and animals and so on.”

  “I guess there’s no point in asking you why they want into our world so bad.”

  “No. There isn’t.”

  “Wonderful.”

  They climbed back up into the storage room. The three soldiers looked tremendously relieved to see them even as they recoiled from the relif crystal. “There’s things moving around
out there,” Nicandro said. “Scratching at the door.” His voice was strained and his normal cockiness seemed to have deserted him.

  “Well, let’s give them something to chew on then,” Rome said, picking up his shield. He paused and looked at the soldiers. “That might have been a bad choice of words. I meant chew on steel, not on us.”

  No one answered him. They were all looking at the door. Something was tapping on it.

  “What’s the plan, Macht?” Nicandro asked.

  “Stay close together. Chop anything that moves. Go like hell for the door.”

  They moved to the door. Moving as quietly as they could, the soldiers moved the crates aside that were blocking it. The tapping noise had stopped. Quyloc put his hand on the latch. The spear in his other hand seemed almost to pulse. “Is everybody ready?” The men nodded. Ketora had the relif cradled to her chest. She nodded as well. Quyloc took a deep breath and opened the door.

  The vine now completely choked the stairwell and blanketed one whole wall of the entrance room of the tower. It had begun to spread across the floor as well and one tendril reached clear to the door. One of the soldiers swore. Gripping the spear tightly, Quyloc stared into the leafy depths. He could sense things in there, watching them, but nothing more than that.

  “Move!” he hissed. “Protect Ketora at all costs.”

  He slashed the tendril at his feet. The cut piece writhed on the floor while the rest recoiled. A chittering noise came from the depths of the vine. In a tightly bunched group they ran to the outer door of the tower. With every step he could feel the menace at his back growing stronger and he felt terribly exposed. He reached the door and flipped the bar out of the way. As he was reaching for the handle, there were sudden shrieks behind him and he spun.

  Four hairy, clawed creatures were charging across the room. They were the size of men and they ran hunched over, using their arms nearly as much as their legs. Each had a row of bulging, yellow eyes. They shrieked again, showing canines as long as daggers.

  One of the soldiers in the rear was slowed by his shield and by the time he turned the first of the creatures fell on him, tearing his throat out with a single swipe of its clawed hand. He gurgled and went down in a spray of blood that seemed to go everywhere.