Monster Of The Maze Part 13

Hirga screamed in frightful joy. She threshed around on the bed and screamed and screamed and the sound filled the room and ripped at Blade's nerves. He was gripping the swordhilt so hard that his fingers cramped. He pushed against the door. It gave a bit. He must go in, he must kill the thing, end this foulness, for he could stand no more. Casta would know this. It was so planned. Bit by bit he was fraying away Blade's nerves, whittling at his courage.

The thing was gone. Blade pushed into the room and went to the bed. Hirga lay fainting, her face in repose again, her eyes dull and heavy-lidded, her mouth swollen and pouty. Moisture glistened in her pubic hair and trickled down her inner thighs. She did not seem to know he was there.

Blade glanced at the floor. A few scales. The foul smell was fading. Yet another illusion? No. This had been real. The creature had been there, just as it had been in the cavern cubicle before, and in the palace bedroom. Hirga was in bond to it, slave to it, to Casta's abominable creation.

Hirga opened her eyes and stared up at Blade. They were a soft and sleepy green and yet now they begged.

"Blade. You saw?"

"I saw."

"Do you understand?"

Blade shook his head.

"Casta," she told him with a weariness in her voice now. "He devises it and his priests obey-in the crypts below they copulate with beasts and so produce monsters. Half animal and half men-of many sorts. Casta seeks to produce a race of monsters with brute strength and small brains so he can control them and, through them, all of Zir and, eventually, the world."

"The intent is not new to me," said Blade. "The method is. But what of you, Hirga? Does your body have you so in thrall? Must you be Casta's creature always?"

Hirga rose on an elbow and looked at him. The green eyes pleaded. "When the desire, the madness comes over me I cannot help myself. But when the creature has come and gone I am, for a little time, satiated, and can think for myself. Now is such a time. So I beg a favor of you, Blade. Grant it to me and I will help you as much as I can-I will warn you of what lies ahead, though you must fend for yourself, and I will tell you of a way out of the maze should you live to use it."

Blade felt mingled pity and revulsion. "And what is this favor, Hirga?"

"Kill me, Blade. Cut off my head and take it with you. It may be of some help when you meet Urdur."

"And who is Urdur? Or what?"

Hirga began to weep. "A monster born of monsters. Casta mated a male with a female monster and they begat Urdur. He is Casta's familiar and guards him, and now that you have come this far into the maze you will meet him. If you can kill Urdur you will have defeated Casta. I do not think you can, Blade, but you cannot go back. Now, before the madness comes over me again, I ask you to kill me. I am vile and loathe myself beyond bearing. I grow old. Soon I will be a hag and Casta will use me to breed his monsters. And I have no courage to kill myself."

Blade stepped away from the bed. "Find it, then. For this I cannot do."

She was at his feet, clutching at his knees, begging with tear-filled eyes. "I beg it. I beg it! Please, Blade. It is no stain on you and a favor to me. Promise me this and I will tell you of the secret way out. There is only one. Without this knowledge you will die in the maze, even if you kill Urdur. Even if you slay Casta. The crows will wait until you are weak from hunger and thirst, dazed from searching a way out, then they will creep up and slay you. I know this."

Blade stared long into the green eyes and saw truth there. She did wish this thing.

"Tell me of the way out, Hirga."

"You promise to kill me?"

"I promise."

"You were in Casta's private chamber?"

"He nodded.

"Then you saw a fire?"

"Aye. He sat before it."

"Beneath the fire, when you scatter it, is a grate that can be lifted out. A hole leads into a pa.s.sage and the pa.s.sage out to the Plain. When the tomb is sealed, as it now is, it is the only way out."

He believed her. He looked down at her and fingered his beard and knew that he must do her this kindness.

Hirga still knelt before him. "Do it quickly, Blade. Before I lose courage and become mad again. Before my body l.u.s.ts again."

He stroked the gleaming red hair. "Close your eyes, Hirga. Be at peace. It will not hurt." "I thank you, Blade. Farewell." "Goodbye, Hirga."

Chapter 16.

Beyond the bed was a door. As Blade approached it, the door swung open. Blade laughed and strode through and into a pa.s.sageway. He carried the head of Hirga in his left hand, gripping it by the long red hair. In his right hand his sword was ready.

The pa.s.sage sloped upward. Light gleamed at the end of it. The odor came again, fetid and obscene but somehow different. Worse. Blade hurried up the ramp.

He halted before a vast iron door. From a tube over the door the voice of Casta was whispering.

"Greetings, Blade. I had not thought you would get this far. I miscalculated my control of Hirga. You are a warrior and a man such as I have never seen before. All this I admit. It is a pity that we must quarrel. Do not enter this door, Blade. Wait in patience until I come to you. We will talk as reasonable men. With your brain and strength and courage, and with my secrets, we can rule the world together. As equal partners. Think on it, Blade. Wait. Do not go through the door."

"Can you hear me, priest?"

"I can hear you."

"Then hear this. I will pa.s.s this door. I will seek you out. I will kill you. Take my advice and, since you are a priest, pray."

Laughter came from the tube. "I am sorry, Blade. I would not have you dead. But there is no cure for a fool."

Silence. Blade waited. Silence. He kicked the iron door with his foot and it swung open.

He was in a den of some sort. Dim light came from torches all around. There was earth beneath his feet instead of stone and he trod in a mess of dung before he saw it. One corner of the den was in deep shadow. Something moved there and the sound that came out of the dark chilled his bones. A visceral, a gut-rending sound, a swallowing and bone-crackling sound. The creature was eating. Urdur?

Blade stood uncertain. So far the thing paid him no mind. He saw skulls littered about and bones and bits of corpses here and there. Did it feed on cadavers or live men?

He knew that he could not stand up to this horror for long. He was human. He must have at it, put all to the test, get it over with. Each moment he delayed, his courage seeped away. Blade had never known fear as he knew it now. And he had not yet seen the creature.

He picked up a skull and hurled it into the dark corner. "Come out, Urdur! Come out and be killed." His cry echoed around the den. Did the thing know he was there, could it understand?

Something moved in the shadows. There was a dragging, a scrabbling sound, as though some beast pulled itself through mire. Blade ran a step toward it and halted, sword poised, swinging the head of Hirga in his left hand.

It emerged into the light.

The human brain-who better than Blade knew the tricks it could play. As he gazed at Urdur his memory fled back in time and dimension and he caught at a fragment from Hamlet .

... I could a tale unfold whose lightest word would harrow up thy soul . . . freeze thy blood . . . make thy two eyes start . . . and each particular hair to stand on end.

Every hair on Blade's body was risen. Death touched his neck with icy fingers. He took a step backward, then another.

Urdur slithered toward him. It was half serpent, half dragon, with the head and fearsome teeth of a tyrannosaurus. Four-inch teeth glittering like daggers. Scores of them. Scythe-shaped claws on short, armored legs. Thick scales covered it, plates that would dent his sword-but for the underbelly. There the flesh was a putrid white, puffy and slack. The underbelly! That was his only chance.

Urdur stopped and studied Blade with reptilian eyes. It made a gobbling sound. From somewhere high on the walls came a chuckle. Casta knew.

It may have been the chuckle that saved Blade. That arrogant chuckle swelling into laughter. He leaped forward and hurled the blood dripping head at the creature. Urdur caught at the head with claws and began to rip it apart. For the moment he seemed to forget Blade. Small brains, Hirga had said.

As fast as a heartbeat he was in and had severed one of the Urdur's forelegs. He was out again. Claws grazed his thigh and the terrible fangs snapped behind him. Urdur roared and screamed, writhing. He lurched at Blade and then stopped. He began to eat his own foreleg.

Blade circled and dashed in again. This time he had to hack three times before a hind leg came off. Clouts of thick black blood sprayed him. The serpent body convulsed as Urdur reached back with his remaining foreleg, trying to get at his tormentor. Blade struck off the foreleg and danced away. Urdur's bellows of rage and pain filled the den. One hind leg remained. Strike that off, Blade thought, and I have won.

Smoke spurted into the den. From a dozen hidden apertures it came thick and acrid and stifling. Blade coughed and spat and coughed again. A thick brown fog obscured his view of Urdur. Blade retreated and circled around, feeling for the wall behind him. He lost sight of Urdur. He heard the slithering and the gobbling sound and knew that the creature was after him. Urdur could move on his belly, like a snake, and the smoke did not bother him.

Through the choking he heard Casta laugh again.

Blade stumbled over something. A skull. He picked it up. It was large, smooth. He, fixed his fingers into the eye sockets.

He was in a corner and Urdur had him. For the first time he smelt the breath of the thing and was sickened. Carrion stink. Urdur gobbled and slithered closer, reptile eyes gleaming. The terrible fangs made a clas.h.i.+ng sound and the head darted at Blade. He jammed the skull into that lethal maw and heard bone crunch as the jaws snapped shut. Urdur gobbled and swallowed and roared.

Blade leaped high over the head and sprawled alongside the snake body. He felt the coldness of scales, fought off terror and revulsion, and forced his hand deeper, farther down until he felt the end of scales and the beginning of bloated flesh. There! There if at all. Hurry! Urdur was turning, arching, the fangs searching again. Blade guided his sword with his fingers into the soft flesh, put both hands to the hilt and thrust in, twisting with all his strength.

Urdur bellowed and threshed about. He rolled over Blade, near crus.h.i.+ng him, and the touch of that foul flesh on his face set Blade to screaming. He hung on, forcing the sword deeper and deeper, twisting it savagely, hacking back and forth to enlarge the wound. Blood engulfed him. Cold blood clotted his face and gouted his chest and stank in his nostrils and mouth. Still he forced the sword in. Still he slashed and cut and backed.

Urdur died atop Blade. With a last effort Blade wrenched himself from under the great body and thought to rest a time. He bled and he hurt and he was near to dying of fatigue. He forced himself to his feet. No rest. He glanced around the den. No smoke now and no laughter. Casta was gone. Blade sought a way out of the den, found none and, for a moment, was frantic. Every moment counted. If he lost the priest now ....

He forced himself to calmness. The corner where Urdur had been feeding when Blade entered the den! He went poking back into the shadows, treading in slime and filth, and found an opening in the wall. It was a grille, hinged and held fast by a chain. Blade raised his sword and struck with fury and desperation. He broke the chain and his sword as well. He kept the hilt, with three inches of broken steel, and leaped through the sagging grille. He was in a tunnel that led straight on. Torches burned at intervals. Blade ran, his breath sobbing in his lungs. He came out into a wider pa.s.sage and turned to his left and there was the leather curtain. Casta's lair.

Only now did he take thought and slow his approach. He halted and stared back at the pa.s.sage, at the arching cavern beyond. Nothing moved and no sound came. Where were all the crows, then? Had they deserted Casta in his greatest need?

He remembered. Of course-Ogier! The General had kept his vow and was implementing the plan they had worked on together. Ogier was on the attack. He was drawing off the black priests.

Blade pushed the curtain aside and entered the High Priest's chamber. It was the same. The table, the fire, the skulls and animals and charts. It was deserted. No priest.

Blade went to the fireplace and stooped. The ashes were still warm and they had been scattered. The grate was bare, the embers and ashes raked to the sides. He wedged his broken sword into the grating and lifted. It came away to disclose a black hole. Large enough for a man his size, easy for the scrawny Casta. Hirga had told him the truth.

He still had his dagger. He drew it now and, with the broken sword in his other hand, let himself down into the hole. His feet found iron rungs set into the stone and he climbed down into a round, bricked-in room. There were two sconces and but one torch. Blade took it and bent to peer into a tunnel that led away from the bricked room. Far away he saw the spark of a torch. Then it was gone.

Blade thought a moment, then he flung his torch away. He would go in darkness and take his chances. He moved into the tunnel, hands and weapons outstretched, and began to feel his way along as rapidly as possible. It was easier than he had reckoned. The air was good, pure and chill, and the tunnel appeared to run straight. Blade stepped up his pace and, when the tunnel bent at last, he saw the torch spark once more ahead of him. He had gained.

The torch halted and hovered in the dark air. Blade halted also. Casta was listening for pursuit. He could not know that Blade was after him, not with certainty, but he would suspect and he might guess that Blade would show no light. Blade waited, catching his breath. After a minute the torch began to move again.

He gained steadily, running on tip-toe, stopping each time the torch did. The tunnel began to narrow and the air grew fresher, to smell of dust and gra.s.s and flowering things. They were nearing the Plain, were now in fact beneath it, and the opening could not be far off. Blade ran.

Blade came stealthy as the death he was. Casta did not hear him. The High Priest was halted at the foot of a ladder, holding the torch to peer upward. But for the torch the darkness was absolute; Blade was buried in shadow. Quickly, quietly, careful that they not meet and chime, he s.h.i.+fted his weapons. The dagger in his right hand now, ready for throwing. Blade brought his hand back a bit behind his right ear. He whispered out of the gloom.

"Casta."

The priest had just begun to climb. He halted and turned slowly, the hood falling away from his skull of a face. He peered into the shadows. "Blade?"

Blade laughed and flung the dagger.

It took Casta in his skinny throat and stood out behind one ear. Casta screamed and there was a spray of blood. He loosed his hold on the ladder to pluck at the dagger, and fell. He still lived as Blade went to him and stared down. The black eyes, coals burning in that skeleton's face, defied him. Casta tried to speak through the gus.h.i.+ng blood.

"Fool you, Blade-fool-we could have. . ."

When he was dead, Blade picked up the body and tossed it over his shoulder and climbed the ladder. The trapdoor had earth on it and a flower bed. Blade shouldered it aside and stood on the Plain. The moon was up and stars shone, and everywhere there was a great running and shouting. Hundreds of torches traced patterns over the Plain. Blade dropped the body and stood there, breathing deep and enjoying the night, until a troop of infantry approached. They were carrying something on spears, and as they drew near Blade saw the shaven heads of priests. A bad night for the black crows. Blade hailed the officer in charge of the troop.

The man recognized him and saluted. He was polite and obviously puzzled. He stared at the body of Casta, which lay face down. Blade turned the body with his foot and the officer gasped. "It is Casta! The blackest crow of all. But how is this, Prince Blade? I do not under-"

Blade silenced him. "No matter. Do what you will with the body. See that General Ogier learns of this. How does it go on the Plain?"

The officer smiled. "It goes well. As planned. We have taken prisoner the crows who would surrender and killed those who would not. We are now sealing every entrance to the monolith-if there are any left in there they will stay a long time."

Blade led him to the trapdoor in the flower bed. "See that this tunnel is sealed as well. A few blocks of stone will do it."

"Aye, Prince Blade. It will be done."

Blade nodded and turned to go. The officer spoke quickly. "Will you not rest, sire, and have food and new clothing? You are covered with blood and look as if you had fought an army. I will give you an escort to the camp, for there are still a few of the crows lurking about. I beg of you-"

Blade smiled and shook his head. "I beg of you, lad. A favor. Tell General Ogier for me that I will not see him again. And tell him that I intend to steal a horse this night-steal it or beg it or borrow it. I have nothing to pay with. And tell him this also-that he keep his word about the woman Valli. You have that?"

"I have it."

"Repeat it back to me word for word."

When the officer did so he turned to reprimand a soldier who out of curiosity, and the sight of Prince Blade, had edged near to listen. When the officer turned back, Blade was gone.

Chapter 17.

Janina.

Her call was incessant, and everywhere he looked she beckoned. Blade-Blade-Blade- Come to me. Come to me.

He knew his obsession, grasped the reality of his mental state, and was powerless. She was but a diamond image in a mountain, but to him she was so real that he loved, he rutted, for her.

Blade swam the channel at night, coming to the Hitt sh.o.r.e just before dawn and hiding in a rock-strewn ravine until night came again. Several parties of Hitts pa.s.sed nearby and he caught enough of their talk to learn that he was still sought. They were searching the coastal areas for him. Good. The last thing they would expect was that he would make for the place of Kings and Queens.

It took him three days, traveling only at night, to reach the high plain on which the mountain of diamonds stood. In all that time he did not eat and drank only brook water. He had cast off his armor for the swim and wore only s.h.i.+rt and kilt, bore only a sword and dagger he had borrowed from a Zirnian officer. Just before dawn on the fourth day he slipped into the mineshaft. He had not expected guards and found none. No Hitt would dare come near the place unless in time of official ceremony.

He found fire stones and struck them to tinder and lit a torch. He crawled through narrow pa.s.sages and came to the diamond face and gazed into it and saw a thousand Blades staring out at him. Grim-faced, unshorn, starving and light-headed, weird and wild of visage, he stared back and laughed. He lifted his hand in salute.

He found the opening in the face and followed the pa.s.sage which he and Galligantus had trod alone. Blade sweated now and his breath came short. Soon he would see her again. She was waiting. Janina.