Too Many Curses (20 page)

Dodger wiped a tear from her eye.

"Are ye hurt, lass?"

"It's nothing." She sniffed at the putrid innards and smiled sadly. "I just miss my father."

Not long after sunset, the hellhound stirred. It twisted a little in the very hungry carpet's coils, but mostly, it just waited. A less observant individual might think it tamed or too exhausted to struggle, but Nessy saw the predatory hunger in its exposed eye. It glared with quiet rage, a fury tempered with patience. As if it knew the carpet would soon let it go once more to stalk the castle's dead. Its stare burned into Nessy, and she wondered how intelligent it might be. Was it merely an animal driven by instinct, or did it possess some ability to plot, to remember and seek vengeance against those who had deprived it of a meal? Against a lowly kobold who had outwitted it? According to Stoker, it was merely an animal of the underworld, no more rational than a bear of the forest or a lion of the plains. But there was something in the eye, some quality of remembrance, like a dog that disliked someone, even if it couldn't quite remember why.

She trusted this vague disfavor wouldn't affect the hound's appetites. It must've been hungry, having gone unfed last night. Its stare would turn from her to eye the zombified bait not far away, and it would rouse. It would be safer not to be here when it was freed, but she figured if she were wrong, if the hound craved vengeance over dinner, then she would have to be the bait. Either way, the beast would go where she wanted.

The nurgax at Nessy's side alternately purred to her and growled at the hellhound.

Nessy, never one to waste an idle minute, thought of her other concerns while she waited. Chief among them was Tiama the Scarred. The dark wizardess had still not shown herself. Nessy didn't know how Tiama could wander the halls unobserved for so long. And she couldn't see the sense of it.

It all went back to Margle's death. Everything else did. Tiama's arrival was no coincidence. Nessy considered the possibilities.

The first, most logical, likelihood was that Tiama had come to claim the castle. It was very likely she knew Margle was dead. Wizards had ways of knowing things like that. When one of her previous masters had met his ugly death, it wasn't ten minutes before the next employer knocked on the door, a small army of golems in tow to cart away all his deceased rival's valuables. If Tiama knew, then why wasn't she taking everything that was hers by right of dark wizard custom? To let it all lie unclaimed made no sense. Nessy
dismissed this possibility. Tiama wasn't here to pilfer the castle.

Nessy couldn't truly claim to understand wizards or their ways. But Tiama's activities seemed more illogical than usual. Maybe she was looking for something very specific. Perhaps she'd run afoul of Margle, and he'd taken something of hers or placed some sort of spell upon her that she now saw the opportunity to break. Whether she knew Margle was dead or not, she must've surely sensed something was not right. Had he been alive and well, he certainly would never have allowed her to wander his home at her discretion.

In fact, he'd never allowed anyone to do so. Margle hadn't hoarded and cursed for anyone but himself. He had never been especially interested in impressing anyone. It was one of the few qualities, perhaps the only quality, that Nessy had admired about him. Her mind kept coming back to this point. Tiama claimed an invitation had been extended, but such an invitation was implausible. But if it were a lie, it seemed an unnecessary one. Unless she didn't want Nessy to be suspicious.

But a dark wizardess had nothing to fear from a lowly kobold. No master Nessy had ever worked for had shown her anything but contempt. The idea that Tiama might fear Nessy was so absurd as to bring a smile to her face.

And yet.

And yet it was the only conclusion she could reach. Tiama the Scarred had entered the castle only with Nessy's
approval, and now Tiama walked its halls—not as a proud, defiant wizardess, but as a timid thief prowling cautiously.

Before Nessy could explore this realization further, the very hungry carpet fell away from the hellhound. The great, black beast raised its head and howled as smoke and sulfur erupted from its scaly skin. It raked its claws across the rug, tearing long ugly gashes. The damage wasn't very serious for the very hungry carpet. It'd stitch itself together after Nessy fed it a few cloth scraps. The hound sniffed the carpet a few moments before snorting with satisfaction. It scratched behind its ear, accompanied by musical bells.

It turned its eyes on Nessy and snarled. She prepared to run, but the hound merely growled at her, baring its long, yellow fangs, and stalked toward the closest offering of zombified dinner. It gobbled down the meal, lapped at the troll mucus with its serpentine blue tongue before dashing to the second bait. This was devoured just as quickly, and it sprinted enthusiastically to the next.

Nessy followed along at a reasonable distance. A few times, the hound glanced back at her and snarled, but its dislike for her was dwarfed by its appetite. It gulped down treat after treat, following the route she'd laid out. It seemed to especially enjoy the troll drool. The beast's frantic dash eventually turned to a lazy stroll, and she worried it might get full too soon. She'd have to do something to keep it from wandering away. The best she could devise was to anger it with thrown stones and get it to chase her,
but the plan wasn't necessary. Gorged on the undead, the hound loped into its final destination: the armory.

Its steps were heavy. Its raging eyes content. Even the black smoke rolled down lazily to its ankles, and the bells' melody muted as if too ponderous to ring. The creature belched. Fireballs blasted from its nostrils.

Nessy felt bad about what must come next. The hound wasn't evil, despite its origins. Certainly, it wasn't as horrifying as many other beasts she dealt with, but she couldn't tend it. It was too unpredictable, too wild.

Sir Thedeus stood atop the giant cabbage. "There ye are, ye great beastie! The time has come to send ye back to hell, and I'm the hero to do it!"

As if sensing the threat, the hound crouched low and roared at the tiny bat.

"Oh, this should be fun!" exclaimed the Sword in the Cabbage. "I haven't slain a hellhound in ages. Wonderfully satisfying pyre when they perish."

"Thanks for the warning, lad."

Sir Thedeus landed upon the hilt. There followed the divine glow and flash of light, and he stood transformed into the man he had been. He drew the sword and raised its radiant blade over his head. Nessy measured him as fine a hero as any she'd ever seen. His stark nudity lowered his bearing a bit but spoke volumes of his courage.

Sir Thedeus leapt from atop the giant cabbage, fifteen feet to the floor, landing with easy grace. Unafraid, he strode purposely toward the hound.

"Can ye know fear, beastie? If ye can, then know that yer unholy existence will no longer be tolerated. For all the innocent dead (and even the not-so-innocent dead) within this castle, I shall strike ye down, back into the accursed hell ye've too long escaped." He spun the sword fancifully before him. "The Vampire King was a great, ridiculous prat, but he shall be avenged this night. So I swear! For I am Sir Thedeus! I am yer destroyer!"

"Can we get on with this?" asked the sword. "Need I remind you, we're on a time limit?"

Warily, the opponents circled each other, waiting for their moment.

"He's going to get himself killed for sure," said Gnick the gnome, standing at Nessy's side.

She hadn't noticed him coming up beside her. She was too intent on the battle. While Sir Thedeus was a great hero, as confirmed by the Sword in the Cabbage, she couldn't help but worry about him. Despite his human form, she still thought of him as that small, brown bat. And, though she tried not to play favorites among her charges, she was rather fond of him.

"Tick tock tick tock," reminded the sword.

But Sir Thedeus wouldn't be rushed. When the opportunity came, he would know it.

It was the hound that finally grew impatient. It sprang with a throaty growl and crash of cymbals, claws outstretched, exhaling scarlet flame. Nessy involuntarily closed her eyes. A terrible cry burst in her ears. Sir Thedeus's death
rattle, she thought. But it was more beastly, inhuman. A shriek of victory from the hellhound, she assumed.

"I don't believe it," said Gnick.

Nessy opened her eyes. The sword was wet with green-and-white blood. A glancing wound in the hound's flank boiled. Sir Thedeus laughed heartily.

"Is that all ye have, beastie?"

He took a step forward, and the hound, terrible a monster as it was, took a step backward. The hound snapped, this time with far more caution. This saved it from a quick beheading, but the blade drew blood again. A great slice steamed across its neck.

Sir Thedeus grinned, and Nessy saw she had no need to worry. Not that she trusted his victory. It would only take a single mistake for the beast to kill him. But even if he lost, he would perish in glorious battle, and she couldn't deny him that.

He spoke quietly, calmly. "Very well, brute. Let's finish this now." He stood tall and proud and bellowed loudly enough to shake the castle. "Have at ye!"

The hellhound did the last thing Nessy would've expected. It turned and ran. Sir Thedeus chased after it, laughing the whole time. They dashed into an adjoining chamber of the armory, where Nessy lost sight of them.

"I don't believe it," said Gnick. "He actually is a hero."

In the next chamber, the din of a great conflict raged. The hound roared. Sir Thedeus shouted with boisterous glee. Bells clattered, banged. Metal crashed against stone. A helmet rolled into the archway.

"Not my armory." Gnick ran into the chamber. "I just polished that room!"

Nessy was about to follow him when a tingle in her ears drew her attention. She didn't know how she knew that Tiama the Scarred stood behind her, but she knew. She could sense the wizardess's awful presence.

"Hello, madam." She turned from the clamor and racket to face Tiama.

The wizardess seemed even less lifelike than before. Her pale skin was as cold and inflexible as steel, and she stood awkwardly straight, her hands poised like knotted claws at her side.

"Hello, Nessy." Her burning stare peered past Nessy. "Having some difficulties?" She gazed into Nessy's eyes, and the kobold looked at the floor. Not out of fear, but because it was expected.

"It's nothing, madam."

The hellhound and Sir Thedeus were visible in the archway for a moment. The monster snarled and yowled, blood and fire pouring from its wounds. Steaming ichor covered Sir Thedeus. It must've burned his bare skin, but he made no show of pain.

"Hahaha! Not so fast, beastie! I said, have at ye!"

The hound made a clumsy swipe that he batted aside. They maneuvered behind a wall. Gnick came dashing after them on his short gnome legs.

"Not the spears! Not the spears!"

There followed a tremendous crash and clatter.

"Is that a hellhound?" asked Tiama.

"Yes, madam."

"Lovely specimen."

"My master owns only the best of everything."

Tiama chewed her lower lip, which was no easy feat given she had no lips at all. Her flat tone adopted that vaguely insulting cadence. "Yes. Your master."

The hound roared as if its throat were full of blood. Its lacerated body passed into view briefly. It was nearly finished. The flame and smoke that had concealed it were little more than a few gray puffs. It now dragged itself across the floor. Nessy pitied the thing. It had only been following its nature.

With a fresh burst of vigor, it bounded away with Sir Thedeus behind.

"Come on now, beastie. What part of 'Have at ye' don't ye understand? Let's be done with it."

"Watch out for the shields!" shouted Gnick just before the unmistakable melody of dozens of shields being knocked aside filled the armory. "Oh damn."

Tiama asked, "Does your master always trust you with such important matters?"

Nessy hesitated. Tiama knew something was wrong. She had to. But she refused to say anything outright. Instead, she implied and hinted. Wizards could be devious and manipulative, but why bother? Why didn't Tiama just reach out with her fingers of death and kill Nessy?

"This is a trifle, madam," said Nessy. "The master has far more important affairs than pest control."

"Yes. I'm sure his affairs are . . ." Her words trailed off, and she made some imprecise gesture as if to gather them up. "Very pressing indeed."

Tiama smiled. Then she did something truly perplexing. She laughed. It wasn't much of a laugh, little more than a brutal wheeze, a hint of amusement. But it fit perfectly with her insinuation of a smile, more the idea of the possibility of the indication of a smile.

"Take me to your master, Nessy. I would speak with him." She sneered. For once, there was no mistaking the expression, no interpretation required. Unpleasant as she was, it didn't suit her. Her face wasn't made for scowling. It wasn't made for anything, just a frame around her burning eyes.

Nessy realized then that she disliked Tiama and Nessy made it a practice to try to like everyone, to find something worthwhile in their character. But there were no such value to Tiama. The wizardess was nothing, an utter lack of value, either good or evil. Thinking about it, Nessy recognized that she didn't just dislike Tiama.

She really disliked Tiama. Very much so.

She didn't care for that feeling. She didn't care for it at all. But she managed to push forth a servile smile.

"Yes, madam. The master is eager as well."

The moment Sir Thedeus had delivered the final blow,
his curse overtook him. But being a bat kept him low to the ground, which turned out to be an advantage. The hellhound shrieked a tormented howl, bursting into a tower of white, white flame. Choking ash and suffocating smoke quickly filled the chambers, spreading to the rest of the armory.

Coughing, Gnick wiped the grime from his eyes. "Now I'll never clean it up."

"Had to be done, lad." Sir Thedeus did his best to breathe through his nose, but he could taste the ash collecting in his mouth.