The Sword of Retribution

Charlie - Part 5

     The slaver's head was longer than that of a human, reaching forward horizontally from its shoulders so that its coiled proboscis dangled several inches in front of its upper body. The base of the proboscis widened smoothly out to merge with its face, which was otherwise devoid of features, and continued on to the great bulging mass of its brain case. It wore hemispheres of mirrored glass over its widely spaced eyes, one on either side of its head, held in place by a framework of coppery wire, like a pair of sunglasses to protect them from the glare of daylight. As it removed them they saw that its eyes were brick red with horizontal, w-shaped pupils, shining with such malevolent evil that even Thomas began to have doubts. Was it really my idea to ask this creature for help? he thought incredulously. What in the name of Hell was I thinking of? I must have been mad! Jerry’s right, we can’t possibly trust it. It’ll attack as soon as we’re off the island, kill us all and feed on us. We’ve got to call the whole thing off while we still can, forget the mission and get out of here. It’s not too late, we can still get out of it. Thank the Gods, we can still get out!

     The young wizard had actually opened his mouth and was about to give voice to his thoughts when the slaver spoke, if spoke is the right word. Wispy tendrils of thought drifted into their brains and turned into words that made them cringe and shudder in revulsion. It was as if each word was an ugly grey slug that left a trail of slime as it crawled through their minds, leaving them filthy and contaminated, never to be clean again, and yet as the meaning of the words became clear, they relaxed, realising that it was attempting a friendly greeting, something that it had very little experience with and wasn’t exactly sure how to go about.

     “You will probably retract your words of gratitude when you reach the Underworld,” it said, slowly and ponderously. “Not for nothing is the World Below generally shunned by your race, and it is likely that neither you nor the man you seek will return to the surface. Your reasons for undertaking such a perilous journey are sound, however, and I share your concern regarding the Prince of the Undead. That is why I am willing to travel in the company of inferior beings. It will take all my willpower to control my disgust at having to associate with such as you, but I believe I can do it. In times of crisis, we must all put up with hardships and ignominies that we would not normally be willing to endure.”

     Jerry jumped back to his feet, his terror forgotten as his face flushed with anger. “Hey, who are you calling an inferior being?” he demanded, striding over to the monster and glaring furiously up at it. “If we’re going to be travelling together for the next few weeks, I’ll thank you to keep your opinions to yourself, do you hear?”

     Thomas relaxed in relief. He’d begun to grow really worried by the tiny nome’s abject terror of the creature, but he’d recovered with surprising speed and was now acting much more normally. He wondered whether all nomes were this hardy and resilient, or whether it was just part of Jerry’s unique make-up.

     The slaver looked down at the tiny nome, less than half its height, as if surprised that such a small creature had dared to address it in such a manner. The others also seemed to sense amusement as well, the kind of amusement that a dragon might feel at being rebuked by a rabbit. Gelrad had hinted that these creatures did possess some kind of sense of humour, although of a completely alien nature, but the fact that it was capable of being amused didn't make it any less dangerous.

     Indeed, it might make it more dangerous if it suspected they were losing their fear of it as a result. If it sensed that they were relaxing in its presence, believing themselves to be its equal. It might feel the need to do something to maintain their respect, to remind them of the true nature of their relationship; that of master and followers. It might well decide that they needed teaching a lesson, and that their expedition was large enough that the loss of one of their number would be a small price to pay. When the cthillian fixed Jerry with one of its octopus eyes, therefore, a look of fear returned to tiny nome’s face as he realised the deadly peril he was in. It bent down, its proboscis slowly uncoiling, pulsating hungrily and expectantly...