by G R Jordan
As he went under again, Kirkgordon reached out with his other hand and found an arm belonging to his charge. Now with two hands holding her, he pulled her close and wrapped his whole body around her, including his legs, determined not to let her go again. He felt the liquid still around him and had no idea where the surface was. His breath was beginning to run out and panic began to set in. He could free up an arm and risk losing Nefol, but where would he try to swim to? A dark thought arose. He saw Alana held by Dagon, the demon’s dark hand crushing her limp body, and then Dagon throwing her lifeless form onto a pile, to land on another female body. But this one was almost glass-like and had a pair of wings emerging from the back. Dear Lord, no! Help me.
Suddenly the liquid parted and Kirkgordon found Nefol and himself sailing through the air, like they had been launched by a wave. The sudden arrival of the ground came as a shock and his shoulder drove hard into the solid floor. His eyes flicked open to see before him a sea of black, rolling heavily with parts of creatures and people appearing at random intervals. Letting Nefol flop onto the floor, Kirkgordon stood up and found his legs wobbling. As he fought to stand up straight, he heard a croak behind him.
Kirkgordon’s hand automatically flew to his quiver and he went to take his bow with his other hand but neither were there. The realization of the loss of his weapons in the dark waters caused a panic as he found himself unprotected. Turning round away from the sea of black, he saw that the corridor the frog-men had come down was intact and three of them were standing before him. He stepped over Nefol and took up a defensive stance, determined to take at least one of them down with him.
The front frog-man hopped forward and swung a curving open hand towards Kirkgordon, who ducked and stepped forward with a low punch into the gut of the creature. With his legs still wobbling, he found little power in the punch and was knocked down by the frog-man’s hand as it swept back towards him. Kirkgordon’s head cracked off the wall and he tumbled to the ground. The creature stood over him and raised its arms to pound him.
There was a moment of panic and then, strangely, resignation. He’d given it everything but this place was just too much. And now it was time to die, time to move on. But the image of the broken bodies of two women he loved came back again. Sorry, he thought, I just couldn’t.
The frog-man’s arms were grabbed by a pair of human limbs and a disgusting cracking noise was audible as they were snapped backwards. From his prone position, Kirkgordon saw the body falling away, and then he was splattered by a copious amount of green blood. He heard another body falling to the ground and tried to lift himself up. But it was too much and he collapsed back to the ground.
A pair of human hands grabbed him by his shirt and pulled his face up into the view of a frog-man’s head. A voice called to Kirkgordon, sounding like it was coming from inside a bucket. The features of the frog-man’s face never changed. It was all Kirkgordon could do to show a frown of incomprehension. But the voice reminded him of someone. Wasn’t it saying “Mr Kirkgordon”?
The frog-man’s head was suddenly lifted up to reveal a human face with traces of green blood over the eyebrows, hair and moustache. There was no doubting the ruthless eyes that stared hard at Kirkgordon or the urgency of the violent shakes that followed with a repeated question.
“Where’s Farthington? Tell me, Mr Kirkgordon, where is Farthington? Tell me or I’ll throw you back into that black liquid!”
Havers, thought Kirkgordon, it’s bloody Havers. Thank you God, it’s bloody Havers.
“He… he went… down… fell beneath a load of… frog-men… when we… came here… at the… entrance…”
“Then I’ll be leaving you, Mr Kirkgordon. I’ll make sure Farthington is dead and meet you back at the portal if you make it.”
“But… Havers… Dagon is… coming through… Alana… Calandra…”
“I haven’t seen your wife. Miss Calandra may still be around. I got separated when a sizeable quantity of frog-men attacked us. Good luck, Mr Kirkgordon, but as I said I have a dragon to bury.”
Kirkgordon forced himself to sit up and despite his aching head he blurted out what he hoped would keep Havers close. “Austerley knows the way… You’re… lost… like me… lost in here… get Austerley…”
Havers’ questioning face sought any subterfuge in Kirkgordon’s demeanour but he didn’t seem to find any. He stepped past Kirkgordon and over Nefol to the sea of black.
“Mr Austerley! Mr Austerley, kindly put the damn corridor back together again. There are things to do.”
Kirkgordon turned to see if Havers’ words would have any effect but saw only Austerley’s arse appear out of the liquid before descending into it again.
“I fear, Mr Kirkgordon, that I may need your help with this one.”
One of the hydra’s heads appeared from the black mass and snapped at Havers, who delivered a punch to the head. The force of the liquid dragged the head back under and Havers cried out again.
“Mr Austerley, put the corridor back together.”
The cry seemed to fall on deaf ears, as there was no reply from Austerley.
“Okay, Mr Kirkgordon, please stand and assist me. When you see Austerley, make a grab for him and we’ll drag him onto the solid parts again. Don’t be afraid to throw yourself at him, I will catch you.”
“And I should trust you? You were about to leave us.”
“Indeed,” said Havers, “but we both know I need Mr Austerley, so let’s not start any unnecessary and emotional ideas. Shall we just get the professor?”
Kirkgordon stood wobbling at the edge of the black sea, watching frog-men, Austerley and the heads of the hydra appear from time to time. Some of the frog-men appeared to have died. Probably suffocated, as the liquid was certainly not water. Austerley was still alive, as evidenced by his occasional shout, but so far was well out of reach. Keeping the focus was hard, but then Kirkgordon saw a hand emerge. He held his breath, shut his eyes and dived into the liquid to snatch the chubby fingers.
Havers had grabbed his ankles and Kirkgordon felt steady within the sea this time instead of swept along by it. Gingerly, he worked his grasp from fingers to hand and then arm. There was a tap on his ankle and he felt himself being pulled hard backwards. With every ounce of strength he had left he clung to Austerley’s arm. Then his body, followed by his head, broke free of the liquid and he felt his knees scraping along the solid floor. This stopped when Austerley emerged from the liquid to lie in front of Kirkgordon’s vision.
“Ah, Mr Austerley, I believe you know the way out of here. Oh, and I see it’s gone. Someone finally carried out my threat. Good. Good to see your foot has—”
“Don’t… just don’t say that word!”
The Team Back Together
“Where’s the wooden leg?” asked Kirkgordon.
“Came off in the liquid. Couldn’t grab it,” said Austerley.
“What’s happened to the liquid?”
“Are you totally stupid? I told you…” Austerley coughed up a solid piece of floor about the size of a marble. “I told you, I was making it liquid, adjusting the atoms with another dimension. Now I’m disconnected it has returned to its normal state.”
Looking at where the liquid had been, Kirkgordon saw a few hydra heads and a couple of frog-men limbs. They were encased in the wall material which had now formed a solid sea, seemingly caught mid-wave. The far end of this mass had blocked the previous exit, a complete solid wave covering where the exit had been.
“Looks like you’re coming with us, Havers. That exit is solid now,” said Kirkgordon.
“Hardly, Mr Kirkgordon, Mr Austerley merely has to redo his trick and I’ll be on my way.”
“Hang on, Havers, there’s no way I’m reopening that. The hydra’s stuck in there and a few froggies. You have no idea if they are still breathing and angry. And why would you want to go that way?”
“He wants Farthington, Indy.”
“But he was killed by the frog-men at th
e entrance.”
“Are you sure about that, Mr Austerley? Positive?”
“Well, no, but he did go down under attack. And if they didn’t kill him they’ll bring him to Dagon. Either way, Havers, you should stick with us. Dagon’s where we’re heading.”
“Very good then. What happened to Nefol?”
“Ask Austerley. Some sort of invisible creature.”
“Mr Austerley?”
Austerley made another of those annoying sounds that Kirkgordon couldn’t imitate. Why couldn’t everything be named in English?
“It’s a basic poison really, Mr Austerley. Have you helped the girl?”
“I’m not going near that,” said Austerley standing up on his good leg.
“Hang on, Havers,” said Kirkgordon. “You’re saying that we can actually help her?”
“Indeed. I forgot how inept you are in other cultures and species, Mr Kirkgordon, my apologies. You simply have to suck the poison out of her head.”
“Simply?”
“Yes, Mr Kirkgordon, simply.”
Havers took a sharp needle from his finger and inserted it quickly and calmly into Nefol’s eye. Applying some pressure to her temples, yellow liquid began to flow from a small puncture. Havers bent down and began to suck out the liquid, occasionally spitting it behind him. Nefol moaned but didn’t open her eyes.
“It’ll take about half an hour for her to be upright. She’ll be tired, but no long-term harm done, Mr Kirkgordon. I do wonder how you have managed without me.”
“Just bloody fine, Havers. We can’t sit around here for a half hour, so we should move. I’ll carry Nefol and you take point. Austerley can bring up the rear.”
“Just how am I going to do that? In case you forgot, my wooden leg is stuck in that stuff.”
“It’s always about your damn leg, isn’t it? When we get back I’m personally taking you to the prosthetic clinic and nailing the flamin’ thing on myself.”
“Piss off, Churchy.”
“Gentlemen, I have a dragon to hunt, so stop this inane banter and let us move out. You can take my shoulder, Mr Austerley. Walk up front with me and direct the way.”
Austerley glanced at Kirkgordon with a worried frown.
What does he want me to do? thought Kirkgordon. If he’d helped Nefol earlier this wouldn’t be happening, the stupid arse. Besides, as messed up as he is, it’s good having Havers about. And if he wants Farthington, he can have him.
The party started down the corridor that the frog-men had come from. As they walked, Kirkgordon noticed Austerley’s head shaking from time to time, as if he were removing a fly. This became more frequent the further they walked.
“What’s up, Indy? You’re like a man in a room full of midges.”
“Ah yes, Mr Kirkgordon, good analogy, persistent annoying Scottish flies. But I think the fly annoying Mr Austerley is somewhat larger.”
“Indy?”
“I can hear him more easily the closer we get.”
“Dagon?”
“Obviously!” And then a tut. Nefol had awoken. Kirkgordon placed her feet on the ground and watched as the girl steadied herself. She seemed a little disorientated.
“Can you feel something?” asked Nefol.
“Yes,” said Havers. “I think it’s the same thing that Mr Austerley is hearing. Being slightly more attuned, he is picking him up more clearly, but we are all suffering.”
“It’s just so heavy. Depressing. In my dreams it was all so black.”
“In what way, Nefol?” asked Kirkgordon.
“Well, you were in charge for one.”
Nothing wrong with her sense of humour then.
“And I saw Calandra, and it was snowing. She was standing holding Dad in her arms. He was dead, frozen. And you, Austerley, you were legless.”
“I had realized.”
“No, both legs. And he had removed your brain.”
“Woah. This isn’t helpful,” said Kirkgordon. “These things ain’t real. No point dwelling on them.”
“But my brain…”
“Enough, Indy.”
“Can you walk, Nefol?”
“Probably…” Nefol fell to her knees, crying. The three men stood for a moment looking at each other before Kirkgordon knelt beside the girl.
“What’s wrong?”
“It was Dad. He’s dead. He’s still dead.”
“We know,” said Austerley. “We were there.”
Kirkgordon rose like a flash and punched Austerley hard on the chin. He glared down at the prone Austerley before returning to the girl. Hugging her tight he whispered “I know” over and over again as she cried onto his shoulder.
“I want Cally,” sniffed Nefol.
“I know. We’ll find her. She’ll be alright.”
“How could you possibly know that?” blurted Austerley.
Kirkgordon went to stand but Havers thrust out a hand to stop him. “Mr Austerley, I think Mr Kirkgordon would kindly like you to shut the hell up before he has to hit you again. Although do be advised he may not have to, because I am closer and will hit you myself if you utter one more stupid and inappropriate comment.”
Nefol laughed. It was choked with tears but it was hearty nonetheless. Kirkgordon helped her stand and she threw a glance towards Austerley that dared him to speak.
Turning to Kirkgordon, she gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you. I know why Cally loves you. But you’re still an idiot.”
“Well, with compliments like that how can I fail? Gentlemen, let’s join the lady and go find Calandra.”
Havers nodded and picked Austerley off the floor. Together they made a bizarre three-legged team but seemed to move at a pace that defied their situation.
“Where’s my staff?” asked Nefol.
“Lost along the way. There was a time when the walls became a sea and I lost all my kit too. Sorry. I guess it’s kinda limiting for you, fighting wise.”
Nefol laughed. “Hardly,” she said and delved in her tunic. She produced two small knives and shook them. They extended into blades of some six inches with ornate handles. “Cally was a lot of things before she met you. Don’t worry about me, I’m not useless in a fight yet.”
Kirkgordon raised an eyebrow but Nefol began to spin her knives at an unbelievable speed. Having always been a man who preferred targeted weapons rather than those which slash and cut, Kirkgordon had never had the speed of hand which those weapons demanded. Instead he had a steadiness of nerve, but he always marvelled at people who could command a weapon used at such pace.
Kirkgordon also caught Havers casting an admiring glance at Nefol’s weapon handling. That was a massive compliment as the spy had proven very adept himself at a number of weapons.
The group continued their walk until Austerley stopped at a junction of two corridors. He started to mumble and his hands shook as he looked first to the left and then to the right. After a slight hesitation he walked down the right-hand path, still leaning on Havers’ shoulder.
Within fifty metres the corridor opened out into a cavernous space as wide as a football pitch and heading off into the distance. There were still glowing torches lining the way and Kirkgordon wondered how often they had to be maintained. They hadn’t seen anyone changing or topping up the torches, and every frog-man group they had met had been of a fighting nature, not a maintenance crew. Surely a building like this would require such a crew?
“How do they keep these lights going? Indy, where are all the maintenance people?”
“Idiot.”
“What did you say?”
“I believe he called you an idiot, Mr Kirkgordon.”
“What’s so daft about that question?”
“It’s bloody Arcassia wood. It’s not exactly uncommon and it burns for years. If you look at it, the wood seems to be barely burning. They brought it here from the dark places when they roamed these places.”
“The Elder ones?”
“Yes. Now will you shut up? I’m trying to
concentrate.”
“Okay, Indy. Just making sure you are still with us. Keeping the mood light.”
“Excellent, Mr Kirkgordon. Now that we are in these cyclopean rooms maybe we should give a rendition of ‘It’s a Long Way to Tipperary’ or a jolly ‘Knees Up Father Brown’. Bringing back the old war spirit as we race, or maybe lope, into battle.”
“There’s no need to be facetious, Havers. But with this oppression we’re feeling and Austerley’s suffering from, a bit of lightness wouldn’t go amiss.”
Kirkgordon looked up at the wall beside him. The black stone was still in effect but the scale of the wall was enormous. I mean, thought Kirkgordon, who the hell walked here?
“I did.” The voice was low and full of menace.
“Where did that come from?” asked Kirkgordon.
“Where did what come from, Mr Kirkgordon?”
“That voice.” Kirkgordon looked at Nefol but she was shaking her head. Havers also looked surprised. But Austerley was bent over, holding his head.
“That’s him, Churchy. That’s Dagon.”
“How’s he in my head?”
“You must be starting to become attuned, like Mr Austerley.”
Kirkgordon swore. Loudly. He wasn’t having that sort of comment. Even the stare from Nefol for his language failed to calm his anger.
“Come save your women, before I rend the flesh from their bones.”
Austerley threw a look towards Kirkgordon. Dammit, thought Kirkgordon. He knows we’re coming and he’s going to be ready.
“How far, Indy? How much further?” Kirkgordon’s voice was becoming panicked.
“I don’t know, but it can’t be far. You’re hearing him which means he can’t be that far. Also, look at the size of this place. This is from when they used to roam the world. Well, this world, anyway. This place wasn’t built for frog-men. The rift must be close.”
“We need to hurry then, before it’s too late. Before he…”
“Okay, Mr Kirkgordon, I think we have your message. Step it up, Mr Austerley. I have a date with Farthington and I don’t want Dagon getting to him first.”