Tailchaser's Song

by Tad Williams

  “Then, why do you stay?” asked Fritti.

  “Ah, well now,” croaked Skoggi, with a sigh betokening great sorrow, “this be the only home ever we knowed. It be powerful hard to leave behind the nesting spots of nigh on thousand generation. ‘Course” —and here he laughed creakily—“it has been might easier keepin’ the little darlings fed of late. Those creaturs what lives belowground may be right bad, but leasts they leave behind what they don’t eat.” Convulsed with laughter, the raven nearly fell from the branch. Tailchaser grimaced. “Yes, now,” contin-’ ued Skoggi, still bubbling with mirth, “no matter who eats, an’ who what’s eaten, there’s always some o’ the latter what’s left behind. ‘Tis the prime advantage of being born to th’ Krauken.”

  “Be we goin’ to eat Master Tailchaser, Dad?” asked Krelli with innocent curiosity. In a flash, Skoggi had fluttered up the tree limb and, with his strong beak, administered a swift and painful tattoo on his fledgling’s skull.

  “Thou interrupts thy betters again, an’ I’ll nip off thy pinfeathers and toss you outen yon tree for the mound-cats to munch, ye rock-head! You can’t be eating everyone what passes by!” He turned to Tailchaser. “Now, my fine cat, ‘course we both know that you be’n’t so addle-pated as to go clambering back into this affrightening mound. So. Be that as it may, were ye going to, p‘raps I could tender a leetle advice?”

  Fritti pondered for a moment, then smiled tightly up at the Krauka. “Well, since we are speaking of this silly thing, and supposing I was in need of advice, what would you want in return?”

  Now it was Skoggi’s turn to show a look of cold amusement.

  “You cats be‘n’t quite so foolish as ye be sung of. However, this one time, the hy-po-thitical deed which I’d be helping you with’d be reward itself—tho’, Black Bird knows, not pufferin’ likely of success. Be you interested?” Fritti nodded in acceptance. “Good, then. Well, let me tell this.

  “In days not long passed, when first we saw yon dungheap rise up along our forest, were no tunnels that led out from it. The first ‘un was a small ’un, and when they dug out the biggers, this one fell out o’ use. Methinks it still be unguarded, it having been fair hidden—the mound-cats had not then what sway they do now. Here be how you may find it ...”

  When Skoggi had finished he turned to his son. “Now, you flipwing clodpoll, mark this well—i’ case someday you be called on to relate how you was the last what saw the brave Master Tailchaser alive!” With another croaking laugh, the raven mounted into the air, Krelli wincing as he followed.

  “Wait!” cried Fritti, and the two black fla-fa‘az stopped and hovered. “If it doesn’t matter to you who eats who, why are you helping me?”

  “A fair question, Master Cat,” Skoggi called raucously. “You see, as I figure it, at the rate they be going, those mound-cats’ll have cleared the whole o’ Ratleaf by autumn-time. ‘Course, wherever they go there’ll be food for us Krauka ... but I be gettin’ right old. I prefers to fall out o’ the nest of a mornin’ and find my breakfast a-waitin’. So, if you find luck, you’ll be doin’ me a favor to brink your Folk back to the forest!”

  With a harsh caw of merriment, the ravens were gone.

  “Pouncequick! Please, listen to me!”

  Roofshadow walked gingerly across the prison cave and gave the kitten a not-too-gentle prod with one of her smoke-gray paws. Pouncequick let out a murmur of displeasure, but his eyes remained closed; he did not move.

  Roofshadow was worried. Pouncequick had been sleeping or lying silent almost all the time since Scratchnail had brought her to the cave. The kitten had barely acknowledged her existence, raising his head only once, some time after she had arrived, to say, “Oh. Good dancing, Roofshadow,” before lapsing back into his somnolent state. A few times since then he had replied to her insistent questions, but with little interest. In the corner of the cavern, Eatbugs sprawled like one dead.

  “Pounce, please talk to me. I don’t know how much longer I’ll be left here. They’ll come back for me anytime.” She thought of Scratchnail, and fear made her fur crawl. The Clawguard chieftain had thrown her roughly into the prison pit with promises to come back and “deal with her” after he had made his report to the Lord of Vastnir. That must have been days ago, although the dragging Hours of darkness made it seem an even longer interval. He might return for her at any moment.

  “Pouncequick!” She tried again. “Can’t you understand me? We’re in terrible danger!” She prodded him again. “Wake up!”

  Groaning, Pouncequick rolled slightly to one side, away from her demanding paw.

  “Ohhhhh, Roofshadow, why don’t you leave me alone? It’s lovely here, and I don’t want to ...” He lapsed into silence for a moment, his beatific expression twisting into a frown. “And ... and ... I don’t want to be where I was before,” he finished sadly.

  Roofshadow was exasperated, and becoming a little panicky.

  “What do you mean? You’re dreaming, Pounce.”

  The youngling shook his head, the placid look returning to his face. “No, Roofshadow, you don’t understand. I’m with the white cat. Everything is very peaceful. I’m learning things. Please, don’t be angry with me. I wish you could see, Roofshadow!” he said fiercely, eyes still tight-shut. “The light ... and the singing ...”

  Pouncequick fell silent again, and all the fela’s efforts could not make him speak more.

  The abandoned tunnel mouth was just where the raven had said it would be, hidden beneath a snow-flocked gorse bush at the rim of the woods. Tailchaser pawed suspiciously at the old tailings that ringed the entrance, but detected no recent presences. Ducking beneath the sheltering bush, he scrabbled away at the dirt and debris that had partially blocked the hole. When he had cleared a whiskers-wide opening, he poked his head through and sniffed again. The tunnel interior smelled only of old dirt, and a few small animals who had briefly sheltered there.

  With only the faintest waver of his newfound resolution, he stepped inside. Above the white forest the sun stood in the Hour of Smaller Shadows.

  This tunnel was considerably drier than most of the others that he had walked within the mound. Its air of disuse reassured him, and he made good time, padding boldly down into the depths. The glowing earth shone only fitfully here, but it was enough.

  Soon he began to pass cross tunnels, and from some of these wafted hot, moist air. He was approaching the active byways of Vastnir. He knew he would have to be more cautious.

  Since the sound was so low-pitched, so subtle, at first he did not notice that the silence of his abandoned spur tunnel had been breached. The subliminal pulse of the mound had been so familiar to him during his long imprisonment that he scarcely noted its resumption. When it finally impinged on his conscious thoughts, he realized that this time it seemed subtly different. That bothered him, and he could not say why. Then he understood.

  The noise was growing gradually louder, as if he were approaching the source. Every footfall seemed to be bringing him nearer to the agent of the dull, almost inaudible throbbing. When he had been a captive in the mound it had always sounded the same: remote, yet omnipresent, as if all of Vastnir had been producing a low, rumbling drone.

  Now, the sound had begun to take on distinction—booming and hissing, definitely louder; growing more so with every step Fritti took. As he rounded a bend, the shaft sloped steeply down, and a miasma of hot, wet air rolled up out of the darkness at the end of the tunnel. Tailchaser reared back, combing frantically at his face with a forepaw to clear his eyes of the clinging murk.

  Still determined, despite a fluttery feeling in his middle, Fritti slit his eyes against the billowing vapors and moved forward. As he legged cautiously down the incline he passed beneath a door or opening of some kind, for suddenly the throbbing became an echoing roar, rattling and reverberating from the walls of a huge cavern that he could not see for the mist-clouds that surrounded him.

  Like Grumbleroar Falls, he thought.

  His
fur was rapidly becoming sodden. He understood that he had stumbled upon some vast underground cataract.

  The strange subterranean breezes shifted direction and the vapors swirled away. In the half-light of the glowing soil he could see the giant cavern above which he crouched, insectlike, on one of the shallow ledges that ringed the walls. Below, red-lit and foaming, surged an immense flood of water. The cavern had no floor, only the gigantic, steaming river which passed endlessly through from one side to the other, filling the great domed cave with fogs and chaotic noise.

  Tailchaser felt the heat of the burning river beat up into his face as he peered cautiously over the ledge. The pounding force of the water as it crashed against the cavern walls and disappeared into the rock beneath him made Fritti feel suddenly dizzy, disoriented by the magnitude of the spectacle. As the river boomed its way down into the darkness beneath him, flaring comets of spray jetted up, to hang finally motionless far above his head, then plummet back to their source. Fritti backed away from the edge and huddled for a while near the tunnel mouth.

  Finally, the tumult began to sicken him. He pushed forward. Around the cavern, near the opposite side, he could see several tunnels, coal-black against the shadowed, crimson-brushed rock. Keeping tightly to the cavern wall he headed toward these, walking carefully along the high, clinging path above the surging river.

  It was slow going. From time to time, the wind would mysteriously change and the swirling mists would descend, forcing him to stop and cling in place until he could see his way again. Inching his way around the perimeter of the monstrous chamber, he kept his eye firmly fixed to the trail before him. Occasionally he would see movement in the corner of his vision, but upon looking up find only leaping spray. Once he thought he saw two tiny figures scuttling along one of the pathways criss crossing the far wall, but as he squinted into the gloom the mists heaved up again. When they had receded, all seemed as it had been.

  After an eternity of tortuous progress, he gained the far wall. Picking his way up the steep path, he reached the holes, farther above the roar and crash of the boiling river. The first tunnel that he reached itself fumed and steamed and he hurried past, but the next opening carried a welcome hint of cooler air. Once he was inside the temperature dropped rapidly. Pleased at this good sign, Fritti put distance between himself and the great cavern.

  With several tunnel bends behind him, the sound of the river had decreased to its earlier muted throbbing. He flopped to the floor of the shaft, glorying for a moment in the relative stillness and cool. After a few breaths he applied his tongue to his soggy, matted coat.

  “You there!” The voice slashed through the shadowy tunnel. Fritti leaped to his feet, his heart pounding louder in his own ears than the raging water.

  “Sssstay!” hissed the voice. “Sssstay and have wordsss with Sskinwretch of the Toothguard!”

  26 CHAPTER

  Ah, yet would God this flesh of mine might be

  Where air might wash and long leaves cover me;

  Where tides of grass break into foam of flowers,

  Or where the wind’s feet shine along the sea.

  —Algernon Swinburne

  Transfixed, Tailchaser stood as slow steps crunched down the tunnel toward him. He could hear the whistling breath of the approaching creature. A nearly overwhelming desire for flight struggled with a dull, unreal feeling of resignation, and he swayed gently in place.

  “My companion and I want to ssspeak with you, ssstranger.” Again, the hissing words, closer now.

  Companion, Fritti thought. There are two of them. His legs trembled, and he drew his tail up between the hindmost pair and waited. From out of the darkness loomed the blind head of the Toothguard. Its loose-skinned body tottered unsteadily. Fritti stared.

  Where the huge nostrils had once flared in the Toothguard’s eyeless face, there was only a scarred ruin of tattered flesh.

  Skinwretch came shakily to a halt not a jump and a half away from Tailchaser, and his damaged snout poked questingly to and fro.

  “Are you here?” queried the Toothguard. Tailchaser’s heart leaped, and he gave an involuntary squeak of relief. The thing had been wounded! It could not sense him, or at least not well.

  “Ahhh,” breathed Skinwretch. “There you are. I hear you now. Come, don’t desssert usss. My companion and I have lossst our way.” The blind thing moved closer, leaning an ear in Fritti’s direction. “What isss your name?”

  Tailchaser weighed again the possibility of making a dash for freedom. He decided against it. Here, perhaps, was a situation that could be turned to his advantage. It would be dangerous, of course, but everything here below the earth would be.

  “Um ... um ... Tunnelwalker!” he blurted after a moment’s hesitation.

  “Ssssplendid. Your name soundsss asss if you will be aptly sssuited to aid usss. Are you of the Clawsss? Your voice sssoundsss very high.”

  “I am but a youngling,” said Tailchaser quickly.

  “Ahhh,” breathed Skinwretch, satisfied. “Of courssse. With the final preparations, even the young are presssed into ssservice. Come, you mussst guide usss. Asss you sssee, I am sssuffering from a temporary infirmity.” Mumbling, the maimed Toothguard turned and shuffled up the corridor. Fritti followed a short distance behind.

  Final preparations? he wondered. What is happening?

  “You mussst have come passst the Ssscalding Flume,” Skinwretch called over his shoulder. “I ssshould never have come ssso clossse. The russhing of the water disorients me, I fear. It iss quite incredible, is it not?”

  “Yes, yes, it certainly is,” assented Tailchaser. “What brought you out to this lonely part of the mound?” He hurried forward to better hear the hairless creature’s reply.

  Skinwretch was quiet, then answered: “I am afraid that I have had a bit of a ssetback, you sssee. A youngling like you may not know it, but there is a great deal of unfairnesss—unfairnesss to folk like mysself. You sssee, I do not want to criticizzze, oh no, but I wasss punished unfairly because a prissoner escaped. But I wasss not even there—oh no, I merely passsed along some information to my massster, Lord Hisssblood. When the essscape occurred, he wasss punished by the Lord of All. In turn, I wass made to sssuffer. Unfairnesss, sssuch unfairnesss ...” The Toothguard broke off with a little whimpering gurgle. Fritti realized with a thrill of fright—and pride—that it was his escape that Skinwretch spoke of.

  After a moment, the Tooth broke off his keening and said: “My companion iss just ahead. I hope he hasss not left. He too hasss sssuffered injusticeness. Ah, I believe I can hear him!” Tailchaser had forgotten the companion, but now he too could hear the loud, sonorous breathing. As they turned a corner he saw a large, dark shape lying flat in the shaft. Skinwretch inched forward, testing before him with a great wrinkle-skinned paw. He pushed at the big, dark body.

  “Get up, get up!” he shouted. “I’ve found young Tunnelwalker to help usss find our way back. Get up!” As the recumbent creature turned reluctantly over, Skinwretch said to Fritti: “Perhapsss you two know each other. My friend wasss an important figure in the—”

  An all-too-familiar face, blocky and malformed, was revealed as the shape rolled over and cast baleful eyes on Fritti.

  “Tailchaser!” howled Scratchnail, rising on his front paws. Before Fritti could move his stiffened body, Skinwretch had leaned over and flung a smacking paw at Scratchnail’s face. The impact knocked the Clawguard off balance. He rolled back down onto the ground again, moaning.

  “Sssilence, you fool!” snarled the Toothguard, and bobbed his blind head toward Tailchaser, who stood by, shocked into rigidity.

  “Don’t mind thiss one,” he assured Fritti. “He isss not right in the head, I fear. The Lord of All dealt harshly with him over the matter of thisss sssame prissoner. Now, he sssees thiss fellow in every ssshadow. It isss quite sssad, iss it not?” Indeed, Scratchnail was paying no attention to the actual Fritti beside him, but was rubbing his chin in the dirt, moaning Tailchaser
’s name over and over. Finally he stopped, and looked up at the Toothguard.

  “Why were you gone ... so long?” Scratchnail asked Skinwretch. Coming from that powerful body, the pleading tone seemed dreadfully unnatural. Fritti let out his long-held breath. The world underground, which had contracted into a stone-cold, heavy skin around him, expanded once more. Incredible! His luck was holding. To be this close to a Scratchnail who did not recognize him!

  “Get up, you great lump!” Skinwretch snapped. The Clawguard’s frightened mewing struck the light-headed Tailchaser as almost comical. “I have found sssomeone to help usss find our way back to the main tunnelsss. We can find food there! Rissse.” Scratchnail pulled his bulk erect.

  “He iss riot right in the head, asss I told you,” Skinwretch apologized as the threesome started up the corridor. “He would have died, dessspite all hisss ssstrength, but for me.” There was strange pride in the voice of the Toothguard.

  Tailchaser now found himself in the unenviable position of being guide and companion to two creatures who wished him and his kind dead—leading them through tunnels with which he was completely unfamiliar, down to the secret center of the maze.

  Scratchnail, although up and moving, still showed no signs of recognizing Fritti. His behavior veered from simpleminded to unexpectedly lunatic and vicious. At one point he turned suddenly on Tailchaser, howling, “Black winds, black winds!” and tried to rend him with powerful claws. At a sharp word from Skinwretch, he was again cringing and crying.

  “Not right, not right,” lisped Skinwretch, shaking his scarred head. “He wasss once a mosst important chief, you know.”