A NOVEL OF ADVENTURE
BY JEFFREY BLAIR LATTA
Seagrave grimly surveyed
the black seared scars that marked the rough but gleaming stone walls.
His features hardened, his knuckles pale as he drew the cutlass from the
crudely fashioned scabbard fastened to his belt. His eyes bored into
the menacing darkness ahead, beyond the restless play of the globe lantern
swinging from Fanas Fel's meaty fist.
"Flash worms?" Seagrave
questioned, indicating the burn marks with a loose gesture.
Pallin Pol nodded quickly,
his entire attitude tense with fearful apprehension.
"The shots were fired
almost randomly," Bishras Bid observed, a cruel smile touching his young
lips. "They were panicking -- firing without knowing where to aim.
And look at this." He pointed to a jet black smear that glistened
like liquid obsidian on the floor. "Trayken blood," he grinned.
There were no bodies,
only the flash worm burns and the blood. A skirmish had taken place
here, then moved on -- but where? Up ahead?
Seagrave soberly noted
the tracks left in the dust by the passage of the heavy worm cannon.
He didn't relish the thought of finding himself the target of those weirdly
dazzling spirals -- in these close passageways he wouldn't stand a chance.
Then too, there were the jakdaks to worry about. The memories bequeathed
to him by poor Montaz did not seem to include these jakdaks. Apparently
the young slave girl had never had occasion to venture into the catacombs
during her too brief life.
Cautiously the party
continued on. From time to time, Seagrave observed oddly formed lettering
carved into the shining walls. When he questioned the others, they
could tell him only that the words had been left by the race of people
who had lived beneath Eukara before the Kamir arrived. These same
mysterious people had constructed the brick-lined tunnels and carved out
the larger chambers like the throne room. The vine-cloaked ruins
where the rebels had conspired was their work, as well. No one knew
who they were, where they had come from, or where they had vanished to.
The gold-veined blue marble used in many of the chambers wasn't even mined
on Eukara. It was a puzzle.
Abruptly, the tunnel
opened out into a larger chamber. Seagrave stumbled to a halt, his
eyes growing wide with amazement -- then wider still with awe.
The walls were thickly
crusted with smoldering gem stones that flashed and blazed with their own
inner fires. It was as if the pirate suddenly found himself cast
deep into a vast treasure chest heaped with burning rubies, vibrant emeralds,
cool sapphires, boreal diamonds and a spilling dazzling flow of other nameless
priceless gems. Without the lantern, Seagrave knew the five men would
find themselves limned by a dreamlike rainbow of dappled lights and shades;
as it was, the effect was weird and mesmerizing and it left him momentarily
speechless at its indescribable beauty.
Then his gaze fastened
on the strange flossy pods ranged around the edges of the chamber.
The pods were each the size of a man, with a frosty pink and ivory colouring
subtlely lit from within. For a moment, Seagrave regarded the pods
with a puzzled knit to his brow; then, suddenly, he understood.
"These are the chrysalises
I was told about," he guessed, stepping forward to study the nearest pod
more closely. "This is where you Kamir come from, where you 'emerge'?"
Pallin Pol nodded distractedly,
his mind obviously on other things. "This is the chrysalis chamber,"
he acknowledged. "Thankfully there seems to be no damage. I
was afraid the Trayken might have continued their fight in here."
"I'm surprised they
didn't," Bishras Bid commented bitterly. "They must have been terrified
of the jakdaks to miss such an opportunity for destruction."
Fanas Fel ran his thick
fingers amongst a fiery cluster of gems on one wall, then glanced at the
others and shook his head ruefully. To Seagrave's questioning look,
he explained: "This was where we had hidden the Lin tal-stone. I
thought just maybe Jakar Jet might have left it here -- but it's gone."
"Your companion wasn't
a stupid man," Seagrave muttered. "He wouldn't have left it in the
same place for you to find. But, then, neither would he have carried
it with him, not if he wanted to bargain with Dol Hashar. He would
have hidden the stone somewhere where he could get at it easily after he
had made his deal. At least, that's what I'd do."
Bishras Bid ground
his teeth in disgust. "To think we entrusted the princess to that
monster. How could we have been so blind?"
"Worse," said Pallin
Pol bleakly, "we've allowed him to get hold of the Lin tal-stone.
No doubt he has already given the stone to the Trayken. Our desire
to find allies on the first moon has instead opened the way to that world's
own conquest. We've failed both our princess and the Naxas."
"There's no use beating
yourself up over it," Seagrave admonished. "You made a mistake.
Now you have to do what you can to correct it. Come on -- let's keep
moving."
They left the chrysalis
chamber and, for a time, they followed the nighted tunnels sunk in sober
reflective silence. Twice they crossed short wooden bridges over
flashing streams of rumbling water that surged out of the darkness of a
side tunnel and swept away into stygian night down another. Seagrave
grew cold imagining what would happen to a man who chanced to fall into
that ivory torrent; no doubt the water emptied out through the bottom of
the island, forming a waterfall like the one Seagrave had bathed in earlier.
Suddenly the lantern's
topaz glow washed over a grotesque clutter of bodies littering their path.
The five men halted in a ragged line, studying the grisly carnage with
mixed emotions. On the one hand, there was a certain satisfaction
to be derived from the sight of so many dead Rayvers; on the other hand,
the lifeless bodies might very well serve to foreshadow their own none-too-distant
demise. Worse, the gleaming gold-worked worm cannon sat squarely
amidst the strewn bodies. It was doubtful the Rayvers would have
abandoned their polished weapon -- which suggested a sobering alternative.
No Trayken had escaped
alive from this battle.
Seagrave bent and turned
over the nearest body. Black blood swilled from the gaping mouth;
the tiny eyes glistened like jet beads. Seagrave's brows contracted
as he noted a splash of blood on the Trayken's hairy chest. The blood
drained from a small perforation no wider than Seagrave's thumb.
"Damned if this doesn't
look like a musket wound," Seagrave muttered amazedly. Quickly he
surveyed several other bodies; all bore the same strange holes, some having
more than one. The pirate glanced at his companions. "These
men have been shot, I'd swear to it. Are you sure they were killed
by these jakdaks?"
The four Kamirs were
obviously shaken by the grisly scene, sweat starting from their brows;
and Pallin Pol merely nodded quickly, his white eyes jerking over the surrounding
walls as if searching for something.
"Come on," urged Fanas
Fel, running his hand over the gold barrel of the worm cannon. "It
isn't safe to stay here. This cannon is still warm; it wasn't fired
that long ago."
Without awaiting a
reply, the brawny man began to move off, taking the lantern with him.
Zhanak Zen, Pallin Pol and Bishras Bid hurried to catch up, but Seagrave
paused a moment. He could still see by the glow of a lantern dropped
by one of the dead Rayvers. It threw its hard rays across the rough
walls, raising the broken stone into stark relief.
For the first time,
Seagrave noticed crude holes blasted into the living rock of the walls
and arched ceiling, openings too small even to accommodate his head.
He peered up into the darkness of one hole, but could see nothing.
He scowled and glanced down at the scattered corpses...
Then his eyes flashed
up again, galvanized by the dry rustle of trickling grit.
He was facing back
the way they had come. On the extreme edge of the light, four round
eyes, each the size of a Spanish doubloon, shone against the clustered
shadows, watching him intently. The eyes were set in two small furry
faces with damp black noses and tiny mouths, which seemed to gape in comical
surprise. The two heads belonged to a single creature no larger than
a cat which hung upside down, peering at the pirate from one of the ceiling
holes. The creature's four large bat-like ears twitched nervously,
and the thing made a gentle quizzical cooing like a dove.
Seagrave regarded the
creature without moving. Could this be a jakdak? It didn't
seem possible. The small animal was obviously more afraid of him
than he was of it. Slowly he raised his hand, trying not to startle
it. In a flash, the creature jerked back up into the safety of its
burrow, showering swirling dust from the hole. Seagrave dropped his
hand and smiled wryly.
Instantly the two heads
reemerged, ears twitching anxiously, huge eyes reflecting the light like
amber moons. A delicate hand with two fingers and a thumb stole into
view, touching one small mouth as if in wonderment.
In spite of himself,
Seagrave chuckled softly at the sight. The deep- throated sound seemed
to momentarily startle the creature, but this time it found the courage
to remain. It cooed softly.
Another hand appeared,
this one clutching a Y-shaped stick. It held the stick in both hands,
still watching Seagrave with its unblinking eyes. Seagrave's brows
contracted. The creature placed the two branching ends of the stick
in the small mouths of either head. It levelled the stick...
"Get down!"
Pallin Pol's cry came simultaneously with his hurled impact against Seagrave's
back. Even as Seagrave tumbled heavily beneath the blue man, he heard
a muted pop -- and then a sharp explosion. Flecks of stone rained
on his shoulder. Before he could recover, Pallin Pol dragged at his
arm, shouting: "Hurry! We have to get out of here!"
Staggering to his feet,
Seagrave heard a second pop, and this time he felt something tug at his
breeches as it passed. Behind him, more stone exploded from the wall.
Only slowly did he feel the pain in his thigh. A glance showed him
a small hole in his breeches, the black fabric darkening with blood.
There were two small holes in the stone wall behind him, just like the
holes on the bodies of the dead Trayken.
Seagrave cursed in
stunned amazement. The creature used some sort of blowgun!
But it had the lungs of an elephant! Had Pallin Pol been any slower,
the pirate would have died without even knowing what had hit him.
Instead, the stone had merely fleshed his leg, coming out the other side.
But their situation was still desperate.
Even as Seagrave turned
to flee, the two heads of a second jakdak emerged from another burrow in
the gleaming ceiling. And then a third appeared, poking sideways
from a hole in the wall. All three brandished Y-shaped blowguns which
they proceeded to employ with devastating effect.
A staccato popping
filled the air. There was no time to run as the speeding stones whistled
venomously all around the two men, peppering the rough walls like hail.
Seagrave threw up his hands before his face as flying grit blinded his
eyes. Pallin Pol screamed as orange blood blossomed from a wound
in his shoulder. Seagrave clutched at his reeling companion, seeking
to drag him to safety.
Through the spraying
dust and shrapnel, Seagrave spotted a shallow niche in the tunnel wall
just ahead. Staggering with the fire in his thigh, Seagrave hurled
himself toward the niche, hauling Pallin Pol by the arm. Stones hissed
so near he felt the cool wind of their passage. The popping was like
the continuous crackle of thawing ice. With a desperate shout, Seagrave
tumbled into the slight shelter offered by the niche, pulling his companion
with him.
For a moment, the two
men pressed back against the wall, panting and blinking against the stinging
grit in their eyes. The niche was not deep, but it served to take
them out of the direct line of the jakdaks' fire. A risky glance
showed Seagrave at least a dozen jakdaks now peered from their many burrows.
The stones from their blowguns spattered like grapeshot around the edges
of the slight shelter, stray rock fragments stinging the fugitives like
buzzing hornets.
Though they were protected
for the moment, Seagrave could see other burrows which would afford an
easy shot at the two men. It was only a matter of time until the
jakdaks thought to use these. Somehow he had to escape -- but how?
The pirate cursed as
a stone scorched a scarlet trace across his chest. Coarse grit flew
from the wall beside his shoulder. The jakdaks were getting closer
with their aim.
Suddenly, Seagrave's
eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared. He smelled the faint scent
of vegetation. How could anything grow in these deep nighted catacombs?
Unless...
He glanced at the wall
beside his shoulder. Where the stone had so narrowly missed him,
there showed a small round hole in the seemingly solid rock. Leaning
nearer the hole, he found the green smell wafted thinly through the tiny
aperture. Instantly, he struck at the wall with the hilt of his cutlass;
but the surface infuriatingly resisted his ringing blows.
He snarled in disgust.
A passage to the surface lay just on the other side of that rock barrier.
And yet, he would need a battering ram to break through to it.
A battering ram?
A sudden desperate
plan grew in his whirling thoughts. Pallin Pol stood on his other
side, better sheltered by the edge of the niche. Seagrave glanced
at the blue man, who was clutching a wounded shoulder. "That worm
cannon," Seagrave shouted; "how does it work?"
Pallin Pol frowned
bewilderedly. "What good will that do you?" he asked. "Even
if you could reach the worm cannon, the jakdaks are too many and too small
to hit with flash worms."
"I don't intend to
shoot the damned jakdaks," Seagrave gritted. Swiftly, he thrust his
cutlass into his crude scabbard. "Just tell me how to work the thing."
"There's a trigger
on the handle," Pallin Pol explained, sceptically. "It causes the
upper panels to close over the worm gem inside. While those panels
are shut, the gun fires automatically every few seconds as the flash worms
form. But --"
"Be ready to jump out
of the way," Seagrave shouted, tensing to spring. "I'm going to blast
a hole through this wall."
Before Pallin Pol could
object, Seagrave hurled himself from the niche, rolling as he hit the ground.
His sudden rush took the jakdaks by surprise, and he had time to pounce
to his feet, wincing at the flaring in his thigh. Then a flurry of
whistling projectiles filled the air around him, smashing stinging spray
from the walls and floor. A forward rush, a second lunge and roll,
and his fingers clutched the gleaming gold of the worm cannon. Desperately
he grabbed the two upright handles, squeezing the trigger even as he heaved
the weapon around aiming the smooth barrel on the niche.
He felt flying stone
crease his shoulder. Another whipped past his ear. He bounded
past the worm cannon; once aimed, there was no need for him to remain with
it. He saw Pallin Pol throw himself to the floor, covering his head
with his arms. A sharp concussion, deafening in the close tunnel,
smote the air like giant hands clapping. A dazzling blue flash blistered
Seagrave's vision and the niche exploded into a welter of swirling dust
and arcing debris.
The force of the explosion
hurled Seagrave from his feet and back against the wall. He lurched
up, and stumbled forward into the spilling cloud of grit and dust.
Pallin Pol had already staggered to his feet, tottering dazedly, his senses
scrambled by the sound of the explosion. Seagrave hauled the blue
man through the blasted aperture just as a hail of missiles rattled at
their backs like a last reluctant salute.
The two men scrambled
up a steep crumbling slope within a black constricted tunnel. Then,
suddenly, they clambered up into warm, beating sunlight that dazzled their
eyes and breathed on their streaming hides. Together they collapsed
exhausted onto the soft jade grass on the edge of the tunnel's entrance.
For some moments, Seagrave
lay gulping fragrant air, his nose buried in the rich soil, his eyes closed.
His thigh throbbed with excruciating agony, burning as if a red coal smoldered
in the wound. Almost unconsciously, he felt the warm sunlight flicker
as something passed before it casting a momentary shadow. He raised
his head and squinted into the low sun -- then heaved to his feet with
a startled curse.
A
group of fenoks surrounded the two men in a tight menacing ring...
Rounding a sharp
jut in the tunnel, the five men happened suddenly upon their first evidence
of battle in the catacombs.
