The Valley of Thunder

  "Or what?" Tomàs asked.

  Annabelle shrugged. "Or nothing. We stay here, which is not a good game plan, right?"

  Tomàs nodded. Beside him, Sidi regarded her thoughtfully.

  "The pouch," he began.

  "I really don't think I'm gonna need a chew of the old byrr," she told him.

  Right now, she wanted to be attentive, not relaxed.

  "But," Sidi began.

  Annabelle shook her head. "Nope. C'mon, kids. Last: one in's a dirty duck."

  Without waiting for a response, she stepped over to the hole and lowered her feet down to the first rung. She hesitated a moment then, waiting for the fear to grab her, but everything remained normal. She was a little tense, but no more than she expected to be, heading into the unknown. Taking a couple of slow breaths, she started down.

  Once her head was below the lip of the hole, she couldn't see anymore and had to go only by feel. The honey-gold glow was so bright, dancing sparkles flickering in her sight, that she ended up closing her eyes. And even then, the glow was a bright redness through her closed lids. The air began to feel thicker, although it didn't affect her breathing. It was just... really like honey, she thought, the sparks like speckles of crystal in an otherwise clear liquid. Moving down was like descending into water that one could breathe.

  She felt for the next rung with her foot, going carefully as she put her weight on her bad leg. Settled on that rung, she lowered herself to the next.

  The glow continued to get brighter, but there was no heat, and the air continued to thicken. She was aware of the others following her, by the vibration of their movement through the metal rungs of the ladder.

  "Everybody okay up there?" she called. She almost expected to see bubbles form as she spoke.

  "Muito bem," Fomas replied. "No problems."

  Sidi and Shriek called back, as well, their voices a little more distant.

  Descending the ladder. Annabelle found herself thinking of entirely inappropriate things. Like a recent gig of the Crackbelles, before the blue glow took her away, when they were interviewed backstage by a writer from Rolling Stone. Instead of letting the journalist interview them, they kept firing questions at him, driving him crazy. Asking him what it was like working for the Stone. Had he ever done a piece on The Wailing Men—-Jimmy Dancer's latest band? Had he ever met Hunter S. Thompson?

  Hunter S. Thompson.

  I should've been taking notes, she thought. If I ever get outta here. I could sell it to the Stone. "Fear and Loathing in Bizarroland." Things not weird enough for you. Hunter? You should try-this place.

  Her foot, reaching down for the next rung, came up empty.

  Wait a minute, she thought.

  She lowered herself a bit more, foot carefully feeling about to see if there was merely a rung missing, but that was it. End of the line. From here on out, you're on your own.

  "The ladder just ended." she called up.

  "Are you on the ground?" Sidi asked.

  "Nope. At least, not so's I can tell."

  Tomàs sighed heavily above her. "Then, back we go." he said.

  "I don't think so," Annabelle said.

  "Annabelle, don't!" Sidi cried.

  "Look, what've we got to lose? We go back up, we get a choice between the chasm and the Quanians. This thing's gotta go somewhere, right?"

  "This is estúpido," Tomàs told her.

  And he was right, Annabelle thought.

  But when you stopped to think about it. everything was totally screwed up. This might be suicide, but at least there was no darkness down there, calling up to her with its silky voice. No way she could face the chasm again. Not a chance. Besides, the air felt so thick she figured she'd just end up floating. Wouldn't she?

  "Annabelle!" Sidi cried.

  "I'm gone." Annabelle called back. Then she let go.

  Twenty-five

  With three of the enormous snake creatures coming at them from as many directions, Clive was at a loss as to which way to lead his small party. No matter which direction he chose, it would be leading them toward one of the creatures. There was no safety for them anywhere in the maze. There wasn't any in the whole bloody Dungeon, when you came right down to it, he thought.

  "Sah," Smythe said. "We have to get moving."

  Clive nodded. "I agree—only, which way do we go? I'm open to suggestions."

  "Away," Finnbogg said.

  Clive regarded the dwarf's hopeful features and gave him a brief, vague smile. Away. Yes. Very good, Finn, he thought. But away to where? No matter which direction they chose, one of the creatures was waiting for them. And if they remained in one spot long enough, all three of the monsters would arrive, to find the party dawdling here while he tried to come to a decision.

  Use your head. Folliot, he told himself.

  Then, to his annoyance, he found himself trying to think of what Neville would do in a situation like this. Not that his twin was likely to ever get himself in such a situation in the first place. Oh, no. Not Neville. He was too clever by far—always in control, never without an answer to any problem.

  And considering how things had been for them so far, Clive wouldn't have been surprised to find that Neville had orchestrated this little surprise for them, as well.

  Your brother sends his regards, the man pretending to be Neville had said.

  Yes, it was all part of some complicated game Neville was playing. What Clive couldn't decide was if Neville was playing the game with his own twin as his opponent, or if he played with someone else, making Clive and his party merely pawns in their game. Or were they higher ranked than that' One of them a king, perhaps? Protected by a bishop, a horseman and a rook?

  He tried not to think of the queen, for that would be Annabelle. Her piece removed from the board. Lost or dead....

  An elaborate chess game.

  Clive knew himself to be a better player than Neville, but it was difficult to make a move when one could only see a few squares of the board at a time. When one only had four pieces left to play, while one's opponent had an endless array of pieces to set upon the board, pieces that appeared in no sensible order, with moves far too random for logical defense.

  Such as black moving giant snake to queenside rook five.

  Your move, white.

  "Whatever you decide," Guafe said, "it had better be decided soon."

  Startled out of his reverie, Clive blinked, then nodded. Make a decision. Yes. But every time he reached for a plan of action, he came up empty-handed.

  "Can you find us another of those cul-de-sacs?" Smythe asked.

  "Probably."

  "Then, lead on," Smythe said, "and we'll have on them yet."

  It took Clive a moment to find his guiding "moon" in the lofty vault of the cavern above. When he finally spied it, he put its flicker at his right shoulder and led the party off. Their route took them directly toward the second creature that Guafe had spotted.

  With a decision made, Clive found his mind clearing. He set the puzzle of Neville and his complicated designs at the back of his mind and concentrated on the task at hand. Some ten minutes after their earlier unplanned stop, he found what Smythe had been looking for. They stood above the dead end, looking down.

  "Now what?" he asked.

  Smythe didn't answer immediately. He glanced in the direction of the approaching monster, then moved back along the wall. Finally, he knelt down to investigate the stones where he had stopped.

  "Can you move one of these?" he asked Guafe.

  "Do you mean lift it?" the cyborg replied.

  That, Clive thought, was beyond even Guafe's strength.

  Smythe shook his head. He had Finnbogg hold the lantern out so that its light was cast on the floor below.

  "I just want you to push it down onto that stone there," he said. "Hopefully, it will trip another of the maze's traps."

  "What's the point in that?" Clive asked.

  "The creatures are blind." Smythe replied, "and they don't appear
to have a sense of hearing. By such reckoning, I believe that they're following us either by the vibration of our tread on the stones, or by what they 'hear' of our thoughts."

  Remembering the pressure of the creature's mind on his own. Clive nodded slowly.

  "Perhaps..." he said.

  "I know, sah. This reading of minds doesn't rest easily with me, either, but we know it's possible."

  Because they had all experienced sharing each other's mind when caught up in Shriek's neural web.

  "So." Smythe continued. "I want to trip the trap and bring them run—ah, slithering here. We'll wait, filling our minds with thoughts of panic, and we'll remove our shoes. When the creature's here, we'll creep off, barefoot and silent, keeping our minds empty, until we put enough distance between it and us."

  "Do you really think that will work?" Clive asked. It was hard to keep the doubt from his voice.

  "All we can do is try."

  "And the others?" Clive asked.

  "Let's break through the circle they have us in first." Smythe said, "and worry about that later."

  Before anyone else could argue, Guafe bent down and put his strength to the stone. It shifted in its setting, then slowly groaned and lipped, falling to the ground with a crash. The four of them looked down, waiting for the trap to be sprung. Dust flew in the air, and the wall shook at the impact, but nothing else happened.

  The trap remained unsprung.

  "When Guafe led us into that first dead end," Clive said, "we didn't spring a trap."

  The nearest of the monstrous snakes was very close now, the other pair closing in.

  "Maybe not all traps." Finnbogg offered.

  Smythe made no reply.

  "Try hitting the next Stone," he said, turning to Guafe.

  One thing wouldn't be difficult. Clive thought as the cyborg worked at shifting the second stone block, and that was filling his mind with panic.

  The second stone hit the floor of the maze. For a long moment there was no response to it, either; then they saw the floor begin to drop. The wall under them started to shift, and they darted onto the next section.

  "Shoes and boots off, Smythe said.

  As Clive removed his boots, he watched the huge creature approach the sprung trap, its antennae weaving back and forth above its huge, blind eyes. One of the other snakes was only a few corridors away.

  "There's more than one of them going to arrive at almost the same time," Clive said.

  "Don't talk, sah," Smythe warned him. "Lie doggo and just fill your mind with thoughts of panic. You're trapped, see, and there's no way free."

  All too true. Clive thought, but he did as he was told. It was easy to slip into the required sense of panic.

  With their walking gear in hand, the stone blocks of the wall cold against their feet, they watched the creatures approach. As the monstrous head of the closest snake came into direct view below them. Smythe rose to his feet. Finger at his lips, he motioned for the others to follow him.

  Clive tried to empty his mind, and found that it was easier to fill it with panic than to think of nothing. He tried pretending he was one of the stones that made up the wall underfoot.

  He doubted that he was having even marginal success.

  They heard the grind of stone as the walls shifted back to allow the creature entrance to where its prey should be trapped. Clive, last in line, glanced back and saw the snake about to enter, when the second closet of the monsters arrived on the scene. Without a moment's preamble, it shot its head forward and hit into the first creature's tail.

  Clive paused in his flight. "Hist!" he called ahead.

  The others stopped to look back with him.

  For all the narrowness of the corridor's confines, the first creature turned with a sinuous sweep of its body, jaws wide as it struck at its attacker. But the second snake had already loosed its grip, its head rising like a cobra's, slowly weaving back and forth, ready to strike.

  The first snake's jaws closed only on air. Its attacker immediately lunged forward, its pale, slimy coils wrapping around its victim, who immediately brought its own coils into play.

  They began to thrash as each fought for dominance, the walls buckling on either side. Huge blocks crashed down upon them as the walls collapsed, but the creatures merely ignored the rubble, all their attention on each other. Stone dust rose to cloud the air.

  "Bloody hell," Smythe said. "They've solved our problem for us."

  He bent down and put his boots back on. A moment later, after the others had followed suit, the party set off at a quick trot, Clive in the lead once more.

  Using the "moon" to guide him, he had little trouble with the necessary decisions, and they made good time. From far behind them they could still hear the battling snakes, knocking down the walls in their struggle. A series of high-pitched whines came from the battle—so piercing that it hurt their ears. When they paused for a breather, Clive turned to the cyborg.

  "Is there any sign of the third one?" he asked.

  Guafe shook his head. "I think it has joined the battle."

  Sudden silence fell from behind them.

  "No time to rest," Smythe said. "Let's keep moving."

  Wearily, the party set off again.

  Was there no end to this damned maze? Clive wondered. It simply went on and on, wall after wall, corridor following twisting corridor. Their lantern cast an island of light, but what it lit up didn't really change. It was always more of the same, surrounded by the darkness. And then he saw, far ahead, a faint glow. At the same time, Guafe called up from behind him.

  "There's another of the creatures on our trail."

  Smythe cursed, but Clive pointed out the glow.

  "How far back is the monster?" he asked.

  "Far enough," Guafe replied. "For now. But it is following the same route we are, and is moving very quickly."

  Clive didn't bother to look behind. Instead, he set off at a run for that distant glow. The walls here formed a snarl of corridors—the last attempt of the maze to snare those who got this close to its exit, Clive supposed—but by using his guide, he had no trouble working their way through the complex pattern.

  The glow was closer now. But so, by Guafe's reports, was the creature pursuing them. Clive led the party on through a last bewildering series of turns and twists, and finally, the glow was no more than a few walls away—so close he could almost taste it.

  "It's almost upon us!" Guafe called.

  No. Clive thought. It won't have us—not when we've come this close to escaping it.

  For now he could see the source of the light—light spilling from an open doorway. The end of the maze, at least. Perhaps the entrance to the sixth level of the Dungeon, as well? And what lay waiting for them there? Don't even bother to worry about it, he told himself. Let's try to survive the moment first.

  They ran the last few yards, and then there was only an open expanse between the lit doorway and themselves. The door itself was set at the top of a short flight of stairs. Its height was just enough for them to get through, small enough to keep the creature out. But there was a twelve-foot drop between the top of the wall and the ground running over to the stairs.

  Clive crouched on the wall. Holding on to the top by his hands, he lowered himself over and down, dropping the last few feet. He landed lightly on the balls of his feet. Guafe and Smythe landed on either side of him. Only Finnbogg remained above.

  "Come along then. Finn!" he called up to Finnbogg.

  "It's too high for Finnbogg to jump." the dwarf replied.

  "Jump!" Clive cried. "We'll catch you."

  As Finnbogg lowered himself nervously over the edge, the three of them positioned themselves under him to break his fall. And then the head of the monstrous snake appeared around the corner.

  "For God's sake, jump!" Clive shouted.

  Smythe moved away from them, bringing the rolled-up canvas from his shoulder. Moving quickly, he pulled off the twines binding either end, and shook the c
loth open. The snake's enormous head wove back and forth above him, but Smythe kept his gaze firmly fixed on the creature's jaws, refusing to meet its blind gaze.

  Finnbogg held on to the top of the wall, then let himself go.

  The snake's head darted forward. As its jaws opened to snap at him, Smythe tossed the sheet of canvas into its mouth.

  Guafe and Clive caught the dwarf, the cyborg absorbing most of his weight.

  The snake snapped its jaws on the cloth, shaking it as a terrier would a rat. The canvas got snarled in its teeth.

  "Run for the door!" Smythe cried.

  As the other three broke for the stairs, Smythe threw his pry-bar, straight for one of the creature's milky-white eyes. The weapon embedded itself in the enormous orb, and that high-pitched whining they had heard earlier issued from the snake's huge mouth. Hands dapped over his cars, Smythe broke for the doorway as well, hard on the heels of the others.

  Guafe was through, then Clive and Finnbogg. The snake whipped its head forward, straight for Smythe where he ran up the stairs, still making that piercing cry of pain. At the last possible moment, Smythe threw himself to one side, and the snake's head battered the stairs, shattering stone. Smythe rolled to his feet, darting for the doorway as it lifted its head for a second strike.

  Smythe threw himself through the doorway at the same instant the snake struck at him again. This time, its massive head crashed against the sides of the door. Rocks fell as the doorway widened. Drawing back its head, the snake struck again, and the doorway widened some more, opening onto another tunnel.

  The others had caught Smythe as he flung himself forward. On their feet now, they raced down this new tunnel, the bright lights set in its ceiling hurting their eyes. Behind them, the snake continued to pound at the sides of the doorway, knocking pieces of it down with each blow.

  The party turned one corner, then another, and came up against a massive door, so similar to the one that the Dramaranians had thrust them through that it might have been its twin. Guafe pounded on it. Behind them, the crash of falling rocks continued.