Feynard (59 page)

The air was dry and crisp, as brittle as old paper, and had a very faintly peppery tang that made one’s throat itch.

“I’ll mark the way,” said the Witch, digging into her pockets. “We should be on our guard.”

“Good idea, Witch.”

They filed along behind Snatcher, slowly exploring what seemed to be a likely route into the Labyrinth. But in less than a turn it became apparent that there would be no help in finding the door that Amberthurn had mentioned. The tunnels were indistinguishable in appearance. They would have been hopelessly lost save for the markings that the Witch scratched on the walls at short intervals. They crossed their own path twice.

“If such a creature as this lives,” said
Kevin, indicating a large skull lying across the tunnel ahead, “then we would have to be careful. We haven’t seen a single living thing, however. I cannot imagine Ozark’s creatures would find any sustenance down here–can you? These tunnels are as clean as a whistle. Unless there’s something else down here?”

“Or unless his monsters don’t need ordinary food,” Alliathiune suggested. “Perhaps they hibernate for
Leaven seasons without end, only to awake when flame-haired outlanders set foot in the dreaded Labyrinth!”

“Oh, very scary!”

“You looked worried for a … what was that? I heard something.”

Snatcher’s club swung down off his shoulder. “Stand back.”

The scratching noise was repeated.

With one accord, the four remaining companions drew back slightly and peered down the tunnel, where they beheld their first monster. It was a pathetic little thing, about the size of a dog, with the feet of a chicken and a cat’s head. It approached them with an ingratiating tilt of its large, dark eyes.

“People?”

“Who are you?
What
are you?” demanded the Witch.

“People. Nice people. Izzit like nice people.”

“You are called Izzit?”

“Izzit.” The little head bobbed gently. “First people Izzit see for many seasons.”

“Are there any other monsters down here?” asked the Witch, who had clearly appointed herself chief inquisitor.

“Monsters? What monsters?”

“Ozark’s experiments.”

“Izzit see no monsters.”

Indicating an empty tunnel did not amuse the Witch, who knelt in the dusty tunnel, put her eyes very close to the creature’s, and said, “People nice if Izzit tell the truth. If Izzit not tell the truth–
poof!
” And a wisp of smoke curled out of her palm.

The creature leaped back in alarm, trembling.

“There, now, you scared it!” Alliathiune huffed. “What was the point of that?”

“I wouldn’t want to be led into a trap.”

“Nice Izzit,” said the Dryad, holding out her hand. “Would Izzit like some waycrust?” She coaxed the creature until it fed out of her hand, and soon it was growling as she scratched it behind the tufted ears.

The Witch scowled at them.

Kevin said, “Would he know about the door?”

“Possibly
…”

“Why don’t you ask him?”

“He’s probably too simple a creature, good Kevin.”

“Dark Wizard take monsters. Very many monsters,” the creature said solemnly. “
Much blood fetch Yamka from underworld.” As one creature, they stared at Izzit. “Yamka turn Izzit into Izzit,” it added, sadly.

It took Kevin nearly a minute to put it all together. “The Kraleon!” he gasped.

Izzit screamed and leaped into the Dryad’s arms.

The Witch grated, “How, by the Hills, did you guess that?”

“Don’t say his name. Don’t!” whimpered the creature. “He knows, he does. Eyes everywhere. Ears in the walls. He mean to Izzit. Mean, mean, mean.”

Alliathiune calmed the creature down, murmuring that they would never let the ‘bad thing get Izzit again’.

Meantime, the Witch whispered aside to Kevin and Snatcher, “Good news and bad. Sounds like the Labyrinth might be clear, but we’ve learned of a foe a hundred times more dangerous. Blood sacrifices to somehow gather the power to bring this creature–don’t name it, Izzit is right–into the living realms. I fear greatly for our Forest.”

“Don’t name it?” Kevin frowned. “Isn’t that
superstitious …?”

His voice trailed off under the Witch’s scornful gaze. But he was saved from further embarrassment as an explosion sounded far away.

“We must hurry,” said the Dryad. “Izzit, do you know the way to a magical door here in the Labyrinth?”

“Door? Izzit know door!”

Kevin folded his arms and muttered, ‘Told you so,’ because he knew it would annoy Alliathiune. Izzit bounced up and down on his ridiculous chicken feet and insisted to the Witch that he knew which door they were talking about and could take them there without delay. In a trice, they rushed after the bounding creature as he led them through the maze, navigating as though he knew the way blindfolded. Kevin decided that he did not entirely trust this Izzit creature–especially not since he had cuddled up in Alliathiune’s arms like that.

But
Izzit was as good as his word. Shortly, he beamed at Alliathiune’s praise as the foursome–now five if they included Izzit in their number–gathered before a low, arched doorway. The arch itself was marble, according to Snatcher, finely carved and decorated with arcane symbols in a language unknown to any of them. The door appeared to be made of stone, although it was impossible to say what kind it might be. There was no other visible markings save for the keyhole, which was slightly recessed into the surface and made of a substance that the Witch identified as derivative of korialite, the magical stone. It had a hole for the shaft of a key, and space for two flanges above and below, about two inches from top to bottom.

“Well,” growled the Lurk.

Kevin stared at the door. He had a sinking feeling that this was his department. The notion sat about as comfortably as a briar stuck down his shirt. Oh dear, until now he had simply been following the others, taking their lead, depending on their skills. Now it was his turn …

“Well, good
Kevin,” said Alliathiune. “Are you or aren’t you?”

“Huh? What?”

“By the Well, sometimes I do wonder at the unintelligent mush proceeding from your otherwise erudite mouth,” teased the Dryad. “Open the door, you silly man. You’re the one with the keys.”

Kevin
turned a fine colour. But he managed to retort, “At once, your worshipful highness. I shall leap to satisfy your every command. Merely crook the little finger of your right hand and–”

She widened her eyes in mock flattery. “Oh, how
sweet
of you, good Kevin. That’s exactly what I thought you would say.”

His colour deepened. “Shush, I’m trying to concentrate here.”

“And here I mistook it for constipation.”

Kevin
fumed in silence, digging ostentatiously into his pocket in an attempt to ignore her jibes. Constipation had recently become a problem for him, but a watered-down dose of Snatcher’s toad oil had resolved his digestive difficulties in short order. Amazing stuff, that toad oil. It tasted like engine oil and cured all ills. Probably scoured his intestines out like a powerful acid–none of the Forest’s ample flora or fauna could live through a dose of that!

He extracted the Key-Ring and sorted through
the keys glumly. Gosh, how innocuously this whole adventure had started, with that letter from Great-Grandmother Victoria! A lifetime later and here he stood, about to expend his worthless life on a half-chance he had the right key, and upon which hung no less than the fate of an entire realm and its thousands of creatures.

“Well, it’s neither of Amberthurn’s keys,” he said at last. “Sheer size alone dictates that. Let me look through the others here–although
I must say that the chance my Great-Grandmother possessed a key that opens this particular door is so laughably negligible that I have more chance of a … oh. Oh, dear. That can’t be, can it?”

Snatcher’s shadow loomed over him. “A fine choice, good out
lander, and a perfect fit if I’m not mistaken. Why don’t you try it?”

“I would if you’d kindly step out of the light!”

“Grumpy old man,” said Alliathiune, earning herself an exaggerated sniff of disdain. “But, given that the last door you tried exploded in your face, I can understand your hesitation, good Kevin.”

“Hold on.” The Witch pressed him aside to examine the door, followed by the Lurk. Both declared they could not detect anything amiss.

He had conveniently forgotten that incident. Kevin’s hand shook so hard as he fumbled with the key that he had to use the other to steady it–and for the first time since he could remember, found that he could exert pressure with his ruined fingers. He beamed at this evidence of improvement, and even more widely as the lock mechanism clicked and the door swung open of its own accord.

“No explosion this time,” he whispered.

“But I sense magic,” said the Witch. “That tunnel is not as lifeless as it appears.”

“What do you mean, lifeless?”
Kevin could not see any difference between the tunnel behind the door and those of the Labyrinth. Except … did he detect a slight glow as the tunnel curved away to the right?

The Witch explained, “I mean that there is a ward here near the entrance of a type I do not recognise, and that further in I detect the presence of life–but again, I could not
tell you what kind. Perhaps it’s this elemental Dragon of Earth that Amberthurn warned us about. I wish the Unicorn were still with us, for without a doubt his knowledge of the arcane arts would have been equal to this task. I shall endeavour to investigate.”

But the Witch’s efforts proved fruitless. At some length she simply attempted to walk through the doorway, and that was when the ward first showed itself as a shimmering curtain across the tunnel, barring her way. She tried several times–there was no danger, just a barely-visible obstruction that she could not pass. Izzit too could not proceed, but Snatcher,
Kevin, and Alliathiune were able to pass back and forth without incident.

After some argument back and forth, Snatcher called for silence and said, “Clearly this discussion is pointless. I recommend that the good Witch and Izzit return to see what has
become of our noble companions left behind, and give aid. For it would avail us nought to retrieve the Magisoul only to find the way back blocked by Trolls or worse. We must at all costs return the artefact to Driadorn.”

Alliathiune sighed. “I agree.
The danger grows no less. For with the alarm having been raised these Trolls can fling their whole might against our small company and thus surely overwhelm us. And should their dark master return meanwhile … need I say more?”

“Kê,” rumbled the Lurk. “I shall escort these little ones for this last span. Go you
in the Peace of the Hills, good Witch.”

Izzit took some convincing, but he eventually agreed to help the Witch return.

When the Witch had said her farewell–a brief and emotionless affair, as was her wont–and the sound of her footsteps had faded into a deep and abiding silence, Alliathiune turned to Snatcher with a wry smile and said, “Little ones? Is that how a mighty Lurk perceives his charges?”

“In stature alone, noble Dryad,” said he, bowing low. “If my service is not acceptable–”

“I believe we have concluded that particular conversation,” Alliathiune reminded him, with a trenchant edge in her voice. “I would hear no further such allusions from one who has proved the truest of companions. Now lead on, noble Lurk, for the Magisoul awaits both the great and the little.”

K
evin halted where the
tunnel widened out into a vast cavern. They stood upon soft earth, not rock. The rich, earthy scent of loam filled his nostrils. The glow had proven a false imagining–logically speaking. Another part of him was less sure. The inside of this place was as black as an abandoned mineshaft, and it was only by the differing echoes that he could tell how wide open was the space they had entered.

“Snatcher?” he quavered.

“How do you feel, noble Human?”

“Nervous,
” Kevin whispered. “I can’t help but feel there is some danger here.”

“This is the Dragon of Earth,” Alliathiune reminded
him. “I may be able to sense through the ground what threatens us here.” And she knelt quickly, putting her palms flat upon the stone at her feet.

At once a low, growling tremor shook the cavern and the earth beneath their feet shuddered like a living thing.
The Dryad leaped back with an exclamation. Strange, groaning noises assaulted their ears, as though the very rocks were waking and stretching and rolling about. This continued unabated for some minutes as the companions exchanged anxious glances, able to see each other only by the innate light of the Lurk’s eyes.

Then, the cavern slowly began to brighten. The source of light was impossible to pinpoint.
Kevin gazed over a landscape field of apparently fertile earth, freshly tilled, beneath a smooth stone sky. Not a green thing grew here.

“It has sensed
us,” Snatcher rumbled. “I have never before felt such a disturbance in the earth’s natural order. Perhaps it is an ancient magic, such as the older creatures of Mistral Bog evidence?”

“It feels,” Alliathiune searched for a word, “…
alien
.”

“Nothing like our friendly Dragon-Magus?”

“No.”

Kevin
’s heart told him that the entrance lay not far behind. His feet itched to run–even if there were a thousand Trolls waiting in the dungeon with their rusty, horrid pikes pointed at his throat, he would rather be headed in that direction. So what came out of his mouth made him startle. “We must cross over, friends,” he said. His jaw worked convulsively. “The second door is not far–just there.”

“Well spotted!”

“Indeed, well done,” Alliathiune agreed. “So, who knows how to levitate?”

“Great,”
Kevin groaned, as blank looks passed between them. “Where is the Unicorn when you need him?”

“Right at your belt.”

“Gosh, Alliathiune, that’s a great help! What are we going to do now?”

When the Dryad made no reply, Snatcher said quietly, “We shall pray that our brave companions who tarried behind shall keep the path clear, and live to behold their homes once more when the Blight is defeated and the Dark Apprentice cast into the sulphurous lake of Shäyol.” His huge eyes gleamed down at them. “I have a suggestion, good
Kevin, one of dubious merit. I suggest that you permit me to carry you–both of you–across this cavern.”

“I am not afraid,”
Kevin declared, but his voice cracked on the last syllable.

Alliathiune giggled and took his arm. “Indeed, good outlander, your spirit does quicken but the flesh remains weak.”

“Great. Fine and dandy.” But his eyes twinkled at her.

Flicking his membranes, Snatcher declared, “I
see crevasses opening and closing upon the cavern floor like hungry mouths eager to sup upon the flesh of trespassers. I see boulders poised upon a precipice, ready to crush the unwary. A queer dark mist tries to deceive my Lurkish deep sight.”

Kevin
swallowed loudly. He had seen none of that!

“Come.” A tiny hand squeezed his arm. “Doth our carriage not await, good
Kevin? We shall pass as royalty above this trouble, as though walking upon the air itself.”

“But one misstep
…”

“Do not speak such a thing
!”

He gulped once more. “
My stomach rebels, Alliathiune–but you think it’s the right thing to do?”

“I do.”

Dash it all, how he wished he could be as decisive in a crisis. For all his tentative bluster, Kevin was sure they were about to embark upon a crazy course of action. But what better ideas did he have? Could they sneak through undetected? Fat chance!

This train of thought had evidently crossed Snatcher’s mind too, for once he had picked
Kevin and Alliathiune up, one beneath each arm, he slipped forward steadily upon the soft, cunning pads of his Lurkish paws as if planning to tiptoe unnoticed through the Earth Elemental’s domain. A ten-foot Lurk tiptoeing? Amazing. Snatcher’s sinews twanged alarmingly as he leaped backwards. Kevin gave a stifled shriek of horror as the ground opened nearly beneath their feet–but the Lurk’s quick reactions saved them.

He caught his balance and met Alliathiune’s eyes. “That was close.”

“Too close!”

“Peace, good
Kevin. We shall simply have to approach this problem differently.”

“I don’t like that gleam in your eye, Snatcher–
not one bit! What … oh, God no! I’m going to die!”

Kevin
’s howl was scattered across the chamber as Snatcher set off at a dead run. His powerful limbs propelled them up over the first small rise and out into a churning sea of rocky mouths and mayhem. How on Earth …? Only a Lurk’s Deep Sight could have foreseen this. Stone crashed and groaned as the cavern floor buckled and heaved itself at them–but the Lurk hurdled the sudden clash of rocky teeth, the sharp spires that sought to pierce their flesh, and the cunning, soft traps which sought to suck them down to a suffocating death. He gathered himself and sprang over a huge crevasse, dropped heavily upon his left knee and elbow, and then scrambled away from a gap which split open directly beneath his pads.

Kevin wailed, “
I feel sick! Help!”

Nobody was listening.
Kevin squeezed his eyes shut and muttered a brief prayer for the first time in his life, for it seemed somehow appropriate that if he was to face dangers head-on rather than adopt his usual cowardly stance, then some divine assistance might be just the ticket. After all, he could think of no logical reason why they should survive.

Snatcher bounded across the cavern like a frog hopping across hot bricks. He jinked and changed direction twice, for there seemed to be some malevolent intent
in the falling boulders and great gashes that snaked suddenly across their path. Each time they narrowly avoided being crushed, the cracking and rumbling grew wilder and their progress more frantic as a result. Hollow booms shook them to the bone. Dust clogged their lungs and burned their eyes. But the Lurk was undismayed. He roared in anger as a cliff surged upwards to bar their way, battled around it, charged onward as boulders dislodged from the ceiling became an avalanche around them. A stone gashed Kevin’s arm open; blood ran down Alliathiune’s cheek.

And suddenly the far wall loomed out of the dust, and the Dryad cried out joyously, and Snatcher hurled himself into a tunnel just ahead.

It was the wrong one.

Alliathiune was the first to realise it. In the tremendous noise and confusion they had lost their bearings. But it had to be along this wall
, somewhere.

“
Dash it all!” Kevin groaned. “What now?”

“A moment’s rest,” Snatcher panted, sticking out his tongue like a giant dog.

Somewhere out in the cavern came a new, ferocious wave of sound like a hundred lions roaring in concert, a distinctly alive and animal sound; the kind of sound that made Kevin wish he could leap into a hole and quiver there forever. Every bone in his body turned instantly to water.

“No time for that!”

The Lurk hurled his companions aside as a large boulder whizzed into the tunnel mouth, striking a fearful blow to his shoulder joint. But Lurks are made of stern stuff. Snatcher bared his teeth. “Come!”

They stumbled out of the tunnel, enduring a barrage of boulders that had them skipping about on the uncertain footing.
Kevin was convinced he was about to become a pancake with curly red hair. But he had no trouble keeping up with Snatcher and Alliathiune! The unseen Elemental Dragon, shot stones the size of his head across the cavern with machine-gun efficiency. He ducked again and felt pebbles and dirt rain down on his bowed back.

“Quickly!” Snatcher
cried, pulling Kevin into a tunnel. “Check within, Dryad!”

“Not this one!”

The three companions shared a glance of dismay.

“Next one,” said Kevin, leading the way.

They ran along the cavern wall. The next tunnel was not far, but it might as well have been a hundred leagues. A wave of earth and rock rolled toward them, faster even than Snatcher could possibly run. The Lurk gathered his charges instinctively in his great arms and curled up as they were buried alive.

A thick silence enfolded them.

“Good Kevin?” said Alliathiune, squashed right up against him. “Are you shielding us?”

“I guess so,” he said.

Snatcher agreed, “He is–by negating the presence of rocks crushing us, I believe. Is that right?”

Whatever he had done, Kevin was aware his magic defied ordinary logic. He also, with every breath entering his grateful lungs, did not want to stop. Snatcher’s grip eased, and his beautiful
eyes suddenly opened, bathing Kevin and Alliathiune in their gentle gleam. He tried desperately not to think of how he and the Dryad were pressed together, and failed miserably.

“Well, here we are,” said the Human, with a brittle smile. “You’re bleeding.”

“INTRUDERS!”

He and Alliathiune yelped as one. They saw dark brown eyes, fierce and terrible eyes, form in the darkness nearby–among the rock and dirt.
The unbridled power of their gaze struck the companions like a physical blow. The voice shook their world a second time:

“
INVADERS IN MY REALM!”

“Didn’t mean to, truly,” Kevin gabbled.

“I WILL CRUSH YOU LIKE THE WORMS YOU ARE!”

And a titanic force bore down on them. Snatcher’s joints popped and muscles creaked as he took the strain, but after a moment, Kevin found he had somehow adjusted and the awful pressure eased. He had redirected the Earth Dragon’s strength into his shield. That clever Unicorn, he thought. What a simple but profound truth, not to face magic directly. They would have been squashed into bug paste otherwise.

“We came to free you,” Alliathiune said mildly.

“FREE ME?
YOU LIE, FOREST CREATURE!”

“
What a tiny realm for a mighty Elemental Dragon,” she commented, managing even to sound slightly scornful. Kevin’s mouth hung open. “No Dark Wizard could long contain one of your elemental power. See for yourself, we have opened the door to this little room. You are free to depart, o mighty Dragon.”

“SEEK YOU TO BIND A DRAGON BY OBLIGATION?”

Alliathiune, bless her down to her green-stained toes, Kevin thought, raised her finger and wagged it at the terrible eyes. “And you would destroy the redeemers? Fie, noble-hearted Dragon. Go shake the lands; raise mountains, and bury your enemies in the abyss. Go with our blessing.”

“YOUR BLESSING? HA!”

But, with a deafening thunderclap of laughter, the eyes sucked back into the earth and the wave suddenly subsided. All in the cavern was still.

“It’s gone,” Kevin said, needlessly.

“Kê, good Dryad, to whom treating with Elemental Dragons is a pastime–”

“Snatcher, don’t,” she shivered violently, her eyes still wide with fright. “I saw only the death of a Forest-dweller and her precious friends beneath this blighted earth.”

“Then let us not spurn this gift of courage,” rumbled the Lurk. “Onward, good friends.”

Kevin took Alliathiune’s arm to steady her as they began to circle the cavern wall. There were many tunnels, but only one had a red door with
symbols of fire graven into its stony face. His fingers moved immediately to one of the keys Amberthurn had gifted them, a ruby key as wide as his palm and six inches long. He remembered how the Dragon-Magus had predicted their failure at this task.

The Lurk examined the door, disarmed three traps, and then motioned Kevin to proceed.
He palmed the Key-Ring lightly in his hand. Good thing he had added the ruby key to the rest, although his pocket barely held all the keys now. Telling himself he would far rather be facing those poisoned spikes next to the doorway than a Fire Elemental, he gingerly inserted the key, took a deep breath, and turned it. Nothing happened.

“Keep turning,” Alliathiune whispered.

“Good Lurk,” Kevin frowned, “what manner of magic has the power to entrap an Elemental Dragon for thousands of Leaven seasons?”

The Lurk shook his head. “I know not. Perhaps Ozark the Dark uncovered an ancient knowledge.”

“How did the Magisoul come here? Who hid it here?”

“We know not–perhaps Elliadora, perhaps another. Zephyr said the Dark Wizard trapped the Dragons, using them to protect his treasure.”