by Chris Turner
The opportunity did not arise. The ogre cleaned up the dishes and repaired below with a plate of bread and a wing of pheasant for Cedrek. The dim light flickered between the cracks of the trap. Muffled sounds similar to those of yester-eve drifted up to Baus’s and Valere’s ears. The Dakkaw tarried longer than usual, perhaps to tidy up the area and trade words with Cedrek, but then he returned, smiling under the dim sconces, requesting that his guests retire to their chambers.
* * *
Dawn came slowly: a soft maroon light filtered through the oriels and lit the manor in a somewhat eerier ambience of melancholy than normal. Left to their own devices, Baus and Valere were less industrious in their undertakings of escape than yesterday. Somehow they knew they were trapped and remained morosely resigned to their plight. They paced the floor, hectored one another, traded spiteful jibes and stale jests. Rilben was nowhere to be seen. What was he up to? They beat the walls, stamped their feet, made rude faces at each other and as a last resort, snatched at each other’s noses, seeing who would object the loudest. They even played hide and seek, and ‘Whig the Rings’, (without Rilben of course, who was still not to be found)—anything to stave off the ineffable boredom.
Baus considered anew the ganglestick. Certainly it was an adjunct of puissance, likely the only appurtenance that could offer a chance at undermining the Dakkaw’s supremacy. Baus had gained a more useful mastery of the adjunct, smiting Valere here and there when whim would have it. But to pad within proximity of the Dakkaw’s presence and tap him definitively was a risk perilously fraught. The man’s awesome bulk was deceiving; he was always on the lookout, a leap and bound away from pouncing on them like a panther. At night he slept behind locked doors; by day he was alert as a fox. At dinnertime he was shrewdly vigilant; he could read their minds like a yantler. After imbibing large quantities of spirit, the man was still indomitable! If Baus ever launched the baton wantonly, he must be sure of his idea—only striking with its tip, grazing an exposed part of the body. Only this would bring about a winning outcome, for to miss or blunder—the Dakkaw would confiscate the talisman, and all opportunity would be lost.
A week passed.
Sunlight deprived their skin of nourishment. Over-fed and under-exercised, Baus and Valere were becoming a pair of pasty-faced louts. They were bored, hot-tempered and apathetic in regards to the Dakkaw’s forced conviviality. No number of rash endeavours seemed enough to secure their freedom. With sallow-eyed restraint Baus reviewed the fact—that they had run blindly into a trap, from one prison to another. They would have gladly exchanged this musty dim-lit manse for Heagram’s non-comforts and mix of misfits.
On the eighth evening, the Dakkaw yawned after their story-telling and made motions that it was time to retire before tending to Cedrek’s feeding in Bisiguth’s crypts.
Perhaps it was with desperate exhaustion that Valere decided to take matters into his own hands. The ogre had no sooner disappeared into the crypts, when the seaman had gathered up a nail-studded plank primed for action. With eyes grim as a raven’s, he sat crouched by the trapdoor, waiting. Baus pleaded with him to abandon whatever impulse he had, but the headstrong seaman would hear nothing of it. He called Baus a coward, an insufferable ‘mamby-pamby’.
The trapdoor lifted. The Dakkaw’s head popped up like a cork and Valere thrust his weapon down, sweating with the effort. The blow was curtailed. The ogre thrust up a shoulder, moving faster than a snake to Valere’s vicious sweep, and deflected the blow, thwarting what might have been a fatal strike. The ogre burst up the steps with a fantastic speed, sending Valere flying back onto a meal sack. A backhand slap had the club skidding across the floor.
Baus gasped in dismay. The seaman sat there blinking like an owl. He rubbed his jaw dazedly and shook his head while Baus retrieved the plank and gained wits enough not to think of employing it. He witnessed the ogre rise up to his full stature glaring down at him with a chilling scrutiny, and he dropped the weapon penitently.
“So! You insolent puppy!” the Dakkaw roared. “Would you be so foolhardy as to raise wood against me?”
Baus spoke in deferential tone. “Nothing so vapid, Dakkaw! You misinterpret my intent. I was about to reprimand Valere for his insubordination.” Slinking forward, he shook the plank in front of Valere’s face and made motions to inflict punishment.
Valere shrank back, admonishing Baus for his contemptible treachery, “You lily-livered turncoat! Can you not see that the filthy ogre is the foe, not I?”
“Dispense with your insults, redbeard!” boomed Baus. “I fear you are addled with spite. I abhor deception, particularly breaches of etiquette upon a host. The Dakkaw is a man of honour—no less our host. Sit there and fume if you must! At some point in a man’s life, he must come to terms with his lonely feelings and know he is in need of trusting company which is sadly lacking in this world.”
The Dakkaw nodded agreeably. “Invariably this is true.” He clacked his teeth.
Baus faced the Dakkaw with smiling courtesy. “As a token of respect for your extended hospitality, Dakkaw, I wish to tender you this gratuity.” He offered him the ganglestick, tip first, and fabricated with a deep bow.
The Dakkaw’s brows rose, then fell in quiet resentment when he studied the object. The item, though amiably presented, was a strangely impulsive benefaction, and by all means an item of suspicion. The ogre was overcome, however, with a glittery curiosity that would not be sidestepped. “A noble gesture, Baus—considering the fact that you know I am an avid collector. In truth, this ebon trinket you offer is not my real object of desire. Rather, the jade necklace around your throat. It has me enthralled, more than this scrubby piece of hornbow you hold.”
“Nonsense!” cried Baus. “You speak of my seaman’s charm, a legacy from my father, which never leaves my neck. Here—this ganglestick is much more of an endearing treasure, formerly the property of the neomancer Nuzbek.”
“Is it?” the Dakkaw croaked, striking palms together with enthusiasm. “Why did you not tell me of this earlier? . . . let’s have a look at the curio.” With an eagerness born of a collector, he reached to examine the baton. The cold tip brushed against his fingers and Baus grinned as the Dakkaw’s mewling cry filled the hall. The Dakkaw’s mottled face prickled into an expression of stricken hatred—before he was frozen rock solid.
Taking a stately bow, Baus exhaled a sigh of triumph. “So, you ungrateful lubber,” he blurted at Valere. “Am I so nefarious now?” He hurried over to help the seaman to his feet.
Valere let out a hoot of amazement. “You are a knave second to none, Baus! All the time I thought you for a pantywaist—now here you are the cleverest rogue of all!”
Baus ignored the compliment. “Swiftly now, redbeard! We must secure an exit from this squalor. Little more than a dozen minutes remain. Mind! We mustn’t touch the Dakkaw. He will awaken and mash us to pulp.”
Valere snorted. “No need to worry! Many more mysteries are now explained from back in Heagram’s yard.”
“Perhaps!” Baus muttered. “More mysteries than you would think . . . Let us make haste; much work is to be completed.”
“What of our Dakkaw? He looks precariously poised and still more venomous than I like.” He gazed at the glowering giant and put forth a questing finger.
“Stop!” Baus quickly slammed his hand away. “Do you not understand the danger? Touch the ogre and we die!”
Valere lumbered back, peeved. “The only way out is the portal.” He jerked a thumb toward the brass bound door. “It is blocked, and the only way to open it is by the key in his belt.” Unconsciously the seaman reached out to secure the item from the Dakkaw’s waist but pulled it back. “We can’t keep stunning him with the little magic stick.”
Baus rubbed his chin in thought. “You are right. We would have to watchdog him from minute to minute. Not feasible. Should both of us doze . . .” He left that possibility dangling in the air. “Drakes! We must bind this loathsome brute, then secure his keys, a
nd be away as quickly as possible.”
“But how can we manifest all this legerdemain without touching him? We are not magicians! When the rascal awakes, we are doomed, as you point out.”
Baus vented a frustrated sigh. “This is where we must use our brains, Valere. Let us gather rope at least; we can pre-loop it around his neck, and his feet. On my signal, the two of us shall ensnare him before he cognizes what it is all about.”
Valere scratched at his brow. “The plan sounds risky. Much could go wrong, yet I suppose we have nothing better to do.”
Baus turned him a peeled-back snarl, an indication that the quality of the plan was unquestionable.
Each set to work; Valere fetched coils of rope from the repositories in the living room. The seaman clambered onto the huge table and looped a generous coil over the chandelier. He twined its iron chain which dangled down from the gloom. Baus crafted a slip knot in wide circumference around the Dakkaw’s legs so as not to touch the creature, and to enable him to hook the ogre’s shins in an instant’s yank.
Valere signalled that the task was finished. Baus peered upward, nodding in appraisal that Valere’s lariat was sound. Any critical error would invite doom.
The Dakkaw stood immobile; his knotted visage still blazed in a most abominable fashion. It was almost as if some canny recognition lurked behind that piglet face, that he would suddenly come to life and crush them both yet. The evil glare continued, sparking a shiver down Baus’s spine; either way, Valere and he were committed.
Baus told his friend one last time: “Remember, once I have the loop ready, I shall signal you to keep the ogre at bay. Do not shirk your duty. Secure the neck harness! I, in turn, shall pull my lasso taut and rear back to avoid his feet which must become bludgeoning instruments.”
Valere proffered a reckless laugh, assuring Baus of his cogency in the plan.
Baus issued the signal. With celerity, the seaman hooked the loop about the Dakkaw’s neck, pulling hard when the pale, flabby neck seemed most vulnerable.
The Dakkaw lurched to life. His eyes glowed with blue sparks of wrath. Maw gaping ferociously and yellow tongue lolling, he struggled like a trapped bear, with Baus yanking hard on the rope, causing a terrific force to coil about the Dakkaw’s lower shins.
Baus ran at all speed to the opposite wall. Struggling to secure the rope, he bound it round the nearest doorknob.
The Dakkaw surged forth like a rabid beast. He snatched at Baus to crush his neck like a twig, but Valere had already leapt off the table and dragged the monster back in the opposite direction with his lariat.
The Dakkaw strained in a choking grimace. He clutched at his throat. Valere coiled the end of his rope around the inside doorknob of the nearest repository for security. Pulling it tight, he gave an exultant cry. Stumbling over the obnoxious clutter, Baus tied his end of the rope to other doorknobs along the opposite wall.
The Dakkaw uttered strangled roars. He was secured like a boar. To move forward meant a painful garrotting by Valere’s loop; to move backward would have Baus’s rope eating into his shins, causing him terrific pain to stumble forth and induce a gasping, strangling pressure from the noose around his neck. Now, sensing the hopelessness of his situation, the Dakkaw became a petulant captive. “Insolent puppies!” he bellowed hoarsely. Struggling with his massive hands at the loop digging into his wattled neck, he hissed, “Do you think you can subjugate me in my own home so easily?”
Valere reached indifferently for one of the bronze gongs. With mallet poised, he stepped within the Dakkaw’s earshot to strike odiously.
The Dakkaw clamped hands over his ears, grimacing. Valere took great pleasure in striking the gong again.
Baus moved in as close as he dared and shot a faint smile at the Dakkaw. “Well, it seems as if matters have taken an ironic turn.”
The ogre growled. It seemed he only wished for one of them to stray too closely and he would crush them to death. “Indeed—but can you maintain your edge? You shan’t escape, grinning thief—not while my hands remain free and I guard the key opening the door in my belt.”
Baus framed a tired sigh. “I had considered this before, Dakkaw, which is why I have another plan, don’t I, Valere?”
Valere nodded. “How be I tug this rope a might smarter and constrict his knavish neck!”
“The idea has merit,” agreed Baus.
“The gesture is rude!” the Dakkaw retorted. He allowed his tone to become notably earnest. “Let us return to an earlier state of amicability. You have me at odds, agreed, but perhaps we can work out a compromise. We are friends after all.”
Valere gave a chirrup of laughter. “Friends? You would have us cluck over your infernal riddles? Nothing of the sort. We are bound for New Krintz . . . that is, after we dispose of you and possibly your valuables—” He bent to pick up the studded plank and contrive a means to brain the giant as was his intent earlier.
The Dakkaw’s thoughts seemed to turn to the memory. “To Krintz, eh? Well, perhaps we would all benefit from a trip there.”
“How’s that?” sneered Valere.
“I am in need of a bride. You are in need of funds, particularly to advance this impoverished mission of yours as outlaws. I can provide access to Krintz’s coffers—a stash more beautiful than you can imagine. With this, you can repay your sordid debts, purchase yourselves a vessel perhaps and gain safe passage to Owlen. All I ask in return is that you spare my life, and that you swear you will leave me and Bisiguth, once you get your treasure.”
Baus pondered the information. “How are we to guarantee your good faith?”
“Bind my wrists,” suggested the Dakkaw. “I offer this as a token of my good intentions.”
Valere laughed jeeringly. “Do you think we are such simpletons? What prevents you from dashing out our brains at the merest instant we release you?”
“This is not in my best interests, considering you can easily freeze me on the spot.”
“True,” admitted Baus. “But what more do you wish of us in return? Easily you could have snatched up a hundred helpless wives without our help.”
“As I have adumbrated,” the Dakkaw grated frostily, “the villagers have spiked the town with shallots. I cannot stand them. You must chop them down or dispose of them as you can, otherwise I will not be able to pass through the streets and show you the way to the trove without suffering an adverse reaction to their poison. Such substances,” he added sneeringly, “curb my amorous intentions and aura of appeal.”
Baus nodded with reflection. “We can’t have that. It seems a fair plan.” He turned to Valere. “What have you to say of the proposal?”
Valere’s humour was scant. “I say he’s not to be trusted.”
The Dakkaw was nettled. “Trusted? You, Captain, of all people, talk of trust. Have you forgotten who rescued your hides from the asphodel?”
“The point is well taken,” admitted Baus, “though I question your altruism, Dakkaw.”
“No matter! Deeds have their way of showing sincerity.” He offered his wrists again. “Bind me, as you please.”
Baus gathered a rope in which to tie the ogre tightly.
“Another condition,” blurted out the Dakkaw.
“No conditions!” growled Valere.
The Dakkaw paid no heed. “Cedrek must not take the journey. He must stay below.”
“What of Rilben?”
“He stays, as usual.”
Valere shrugged. “I care not for either of them. Let’s see those hands.”
The Dakkaw produced his wrists and Valere lashed them together with tight, painful precision, paying particular attention to any movement or treachery which might constitute his own demise. Baus watched vigilantly a foot away, ganglestick on the ready. The Dakkaw meanwhile, eyed the magic rod with shrewd dismay. His lumpy eyes glittered with speculation. “There is something else.”
“Nothing else!” remonstrated Baus. “I wish to view this ‘Cedrek’ and satiate this brewing curios
ity of mine that has been eating away at me for a long while.”
Valere expressed a similar, pressing interest. “Yes, this mystery of Cedrek has me bewildered too.”
The Dakkaw gave an ill-mannered snort, but he had no choice in the matter and mustered a torpid shrug. “You must do as you must. But I warn you, considering the current stasis of affairs, I formally forbid tampering with the conditions as stated!”
“We shall do as we please, Dakkaw!” called Valere angrily. “Shut your maw. We are masters of this keep and you are hardly but a fly in a bottle. Do not make any demands.”
The Dakkaw tempered his tone, for he knew the seaman was right. Valere finished binding the oak-tree wrists. He took from his belt the keys and proceeded to the trapdoor. Baus peered about the candlelit murk with uneasy foreboding. Rilben’s absence was eerily discommoding, but nothing could be done. He retrieved his golden blade from the basket on high and helped Valere wrench open the trap. They snatched torches, and made cautious steps to investigate the crypts below Bisiguth.
IX
What greeted them in this dim sublevel was a dungeon-like undercroft ever dank and silent. Gloom was perpetuated by an absence of sconce-light and a noisome chill left them shivering. What comprised the mildewed spaces was supported only with mouldy crusted pillars and wooden beams from which cobwebs floated rottenly. Spiders clung in the darkness, like crabs, crouching steadily with grey abdomens and beady yellow eyes. Sensing the intruders, the creatures scuttled deeper into the shadows, spawning unwholesome scents and draughts with their spongy webs. Baus was mildly revulsed at the burrow. Eyes darting in all directions, he observed the floor hard-packed—perhaps twenty or thirty musty earthen rooms ranged off in the periphery.
For the moment the easy victory over the Dakkaw seemed cheaply won. The two new masters of Bisiguth took precarious steps away from the staircase, and now a torn trail of webs revealed the path where the Dakkaw had last forged his bulk. Baus set fire to the troublesome straggle which already was re-forming and the spiders snapped and hissed at the destruction to their homes, but foisted no further appeal. The two explorers gripped their resolve, fearful of traps that the Dakkaw had set. They searched vainly for any signs of Cedrek. No hint seemed to suggest the presence of any humans at all. Such could easily be a smoke-screen.