Torquil bent over the gap and yelled down. "You're sure there's no way to climb up?"
"Only for a bird," Ergo told him.
Titch moved to stand closer to his friend, staring upward.
"Throw us a rope," Ergo shouted.
Torquil turned and began rummaging through his rucksack. The coil he produced was thin.
Colwyn eyed it uneasily. "Doesn't look very strong."
"It'll hold them if they come up one at a time." Torquil sounded confident. "I know. I've had occasion to use it when plying my trade. A man should know his tools." He thought a moment, added, "My old trade, of course."
Colwyn turned his face away so that the bandit leader would not see his grin. "I guess even a rope can redeem itself. Hand me the line and brace it."
Torquil nodded, wrapped a section of the rope around his waist, and handed one end to Bardolph while Colwyn played out the other over the edge of the gap. The two thieves steadied themselves.
Ergo's eyes were on the rope, but Titch saw something out of the corner of an eye, shouted a warning. "Slayers!" He pointed up the narrow tunnel.
Colwyn tried to see below, bending over, but the twists and turns in the floor hid the approaching danger. Immediately he looped the rope around his waist, tightened it.
"I'm going down."
"Why risk all we've gained if—" Bardolph began, but Colwyn eyed him so coldly the man went silent.
"I'm going down," Colwyn repeated, "and now! Torquil, be ready to bring us up at the signal."
Torquil leaned backward, clenched his teeth. "Say the word and I'll have you out like a moonbeam."
"Right. Easy now." He stepped over the edge and started to let himself down.
He was suspended halfway between upper and lower passage when a deep rumbling sounded from all around and the gap began to close as quickly and unexpectedly as it had opened. Torquil didn't wait for orders, nor was there time to discuss the matter.
"Up! Pull him up!"
Despite the combined strength, Colwyn's ankles barely cleared the opening before it shut tight beneath them, forming a solid, unbroken floor beneath their feet once more.
Colwyn sat back, staring grimly at the crack that mocked them. Titch and Ergo were trapped somewhere below . . . with Slayers. He kicked at the surface in frustration. Not even Rell could have pried that mass apart.
A hand touched him and he stared up at Torquil. The thief's expression was set. "They chose. We all chose."
"But the boy . . ." Colwyn's fingers touched the glaive. But as had happened with Rell, Ynyr's words held him back. If he did not conserve the glaive's power to confront the Beast, all would be wasted.
"They've given what they could," Bardolph added. "Let's be off from here."
Colwyn hesitated, then nodded and climbed to his feet. But he left another part of his soul behind in that corridor.
Ergo had stared helplessly as the ceiling had slammed shut overhead. Now he backed down the corridor, his mind working frantically, his eyes on the two approaching Slayers. There was no telling where the corridor led, perhaps to a dead end, perhaps to the Beast's lair, perhaps nowhere. He leaned around the curving wall, ducked back as a Slayer spear lashed out at him.
It might have been the fear in the boy's face that galvanized him to action, or some hidden reserve of cunning and knowledge. Colwyn had suspected it lay hidden beneath that buffoonish exterior all the time, while Ynyr had doubted it. Whatever the inspiration, Ergo abruptly did what he did best.
He even did it right this time.
A thunderous roar shook the tunnel. The Slayers paused, uncertain, then fired again. But this was no waddling, awkward human flying at them. Instead they confronted a quarter ton of angry, fast-moving tiger.
Titch clung to the wall where the tiger had nudged him and watched with wide eyes. No one knew if the Slayers had emotions. If so, it's certain that two died that day full of surprise.
XIII
The peasant looked up from his berry-picking and frowned. The sky was not cloudy, but there was thunder in the air. He rose, leaned on his staff and stared up the long, grassy valley. Beyond the mountains, perhaps, there might be a thunderstorm brewing.
A shape appeared in the air before him. It was very large, but it was not a cloud. He found himself backing away from it instinctively. It grew darker and more solid as he tripped and fell backward.
The Black Fortress sat silent and massive between mountain ridges as the peasant ran madly to warn his village. Its exterior was smooth and unchanged, giving no hint of the turmoil occurring within.
Colwyn held up a restraining hand and his companions slowed behind him. The corridor opened unexpectedly into a large, smooth-walled chamber with a high ceiling arching overhead. In the center stood a hexagonal dome of strange design and faintly threatening construction. It made Colwyn think of the war helmets worn by the fighters of distant Ulrathay. But what was one to make of those dark ridges that gave it support and the internally lit, translucent panels that bulged outward? No human hand had fashioned this place, and no human soul ought to abide within it.
Yet one particularly precious soul was thus trapped. Colwyn could sense it with every fragment of his being. He couldn't take his eyes from the structure. He knew where they were.
"Quietly now," he told them. "We're close to the center."
"The center of what?" Bardolph wanted to know. "Of the Fortress?"
"Of everything," Colwyn assured him.
Following his lead, they filed out of the corridor and spread out to inspect the hexagon of those softly lit panels. Not a man of the three doubted that it was any less solid than the outer walls of the Fortress. And like those outer walls, there was no sign of an entrance.
When they'd completed the brief inspection, Colwyn declared his intentions. "From here I must go on alone."
Torquil tried to see through one of the vitreous panels, fought to imagine the source of the strange inner light. "Go on to where? There's no way in. And if this is what you hint it is, I wouldn't expect some overanxious Slayer to jump out and offer us one. They won't make that mistake again."
"There are no Slayers here," Colwyn murmured. "This is the place of something else. But there must be a way in." He began backing a few steps away from the hexagon, studying it intently and paying but slight attention to his friends' movements. Torquil and the others moved to stand well behind him.
"There's nothing for it," the bandit leader announced. "That place is as solid as—" He caught himself as he saw Colwyn remove the strange, five-armed weapon from its holding loop. Colwyn's eyes were slightly glazed and he seemed to be concentrating on something beyond their range of vision.
"Get behind him," Torquil suddenly ordered his men.
"Why? What's he going to do with that?"
"Get behind, Oswyn, and you too, Bardolph. And be ready." His hand went to his war ax.
"Ready for what?" Oswyn drew his own weapon, watched as Colwyn held the glaive out in front of his chest.
"I don't know," Torquil replied irritably, his concentration on Colwyn, "but be ready for it."
Suddenly five blades appeared on the glaive, one at the terminus of each golden arm. Colwyn brought it back, then flung it hard toward the hexagon. It whizzed toward the nearest section of wall . . . and struck.
A thunderous chiming rang through the chamber. Oswyn put his hands to his ears while the others winced, wondering how so small a device could generate so violent a reaction.
The blades had failed to scratch the hexagon's walls and the glaive returned to Colwyn's waiting hand. Oblivious to the astonishment on the faces of his companions, he threw it a second time, striking the same spot as before with uncanny accuracy. This time a huge chunk of wall was blasted away. Again he threw the glaive, and again, ignoring the overlapping echoes that had forced his friends to their knees.
"He doesn't act like he hears the noise!" Oswyn shouted. "He doesn't act like he hears anything!"
"What?" T
orquil asked. He had his hands over his own ears, trying to shut out the deafening echoes.
"I SAID, I DON'T THINK HE CAN HEAR THE SOUNDS!"
"I DON'T EITHER!" Torquil agreed.
Colwyn advanced toward the dome like a wraith through a dream, methodically catching and throwing the glaive, hewing a passage through the wall. Sweat poured off his face, and his muscles quivered with the effort. Throw, catch, throw, catch, and throw again. The blades of the glaive became nicked and dulled but the weapon itself remained as solid as the day he'd stolen it from its fiery vault. Shattered fragments of dome flew everywhere, striking walls and floor and ceiling impartially and forcing his men to dodge quickly. The only place in the chamber free of flying debris was the section of floor occupied by the slowly advancing Colwyn.
Someone else heard that steady ringing, muted though it was inside the dome. Lyssa backed away from the intensifying noise. Such announcements of destruction could herald many things, but she doubted the Beast's imminent arrival was among them. He had already revealed his noiseless entryway to the sanctuary.
That implied the presence of another party that sought to fashion its own entrance. The mere thought filled her with more hope than she'd dare allow herself since the day of her abduction. She divided her attention between the section of wall where the approaching sounds rang loudest and the dark hollow that had earlier produced the Beast.
The ringing in the chamber subsided somewhat as Colwyn dug his way deeper into the dome. Torquil removed his hands from his ears. The noise was bearable.
He turned to the other two. "Colwyn works difficult magic and we stand around like hogs waiting for our butchers. The noise is bound to draw Slayers. Colwyn has enough to work without having to worry about such distractions. Let's scout around this object. Surely we can provide a warm welcome for any black-eyed curiosity seekers."
Oswyn swung his mace. "I hope some of them do come. We'll satisfy their curiosity, all right. I owe poor Ergo a dozen dead souls at least."
"Not if I get to them first," Bardolph said tersely, testing the edge of his own weapon.
"I'm sure there will be plenty of killing to satisfy all of you," Torquil said. "Come on."
They started off to their left, intending to complete another circumnavigation of the dome. Bardolph followed for a moment, then paused.
"We ought to split up here in case they try to take us from behind. We can meet on the far side."
Torquil nodded approvingly. "A good idea, if there were more than three of us. I don't want anyone going off by himself. But we can at least spread out a little."
Torquil took the center, Bardolph the outside, and Oswyn crept along the wall of the glowing dome. Bardolph felt his way cautiously along the chamber wall, walking parallel to his companions.
And then the wall wasn't there anymore to support him, and yet its ghost was. His hand sank through the wall. There was no time to catch his balance, only time enough to shout.
"Torquil!"
Then he was gone, the wall having swallowed him up as neatly as quicksand had taken poor Menno. Torquil and Oswyn arrived an instant too late to help. They pushed and probed the wall, testing, searching for an opening. It was as solid as the floor under their feet.
For another second. Then it had vanished and both men tumbled forward. Torquil had silently cursed Bardolph for his clumsiness. There was no reason for a good thief to be caught so badly off balance, even by a trick wall. But as he stumbled inward, he apologized mentally to his friend, for it was as if they fell downward instead of just sideways, as though the wall turned everything inside out.
They fell into a small room. Bardolph was just getting to his feet. Torquil immediately regained his balance and ran at the wall behind them, only to discover that it had become a real wall once more, solid as granite.
"I leaned against it and suddenly everything was upside down," Bardolph told them,
"I know. It did the same thing to us. Idiots!" He slapped at his forehead. "Now we've gone and left Colwyn's retreat unprotected, and he may not even realize we've left."
Turning a slow circle, he took stock of their prison, a ten-by twenty-foot rectangle with no visible openings. There wasn't even an air vent, yet the atmosphere was thick and warm, if a touch musty.
The walls bristled with metal stakes and he knew they hadn't been placed there for decoration. He'd seen similar rooms in use in some of the less enlightened kingdoms and knew well their function.
He cut at the wall they'd tumbled through with his sword, barely scratching the material. "Search! Check the other end. We've got to get back!" Oswyn and Bardolph rushed to inspect the opposite end of the cell.
So far their prison was silent and still. Torquil did not expect it to remain that way for long. Something was toying with them, perhaps enjoying their anxiety. Soon it would become tired, or bored, or indifferent.
He wondered how many minutes they had left.
XIV
Lyssa backed away from the imploding wall. Shards of glassy material flew past her and dust stung her face. She ignored them, her gaze locked on the trembling surface. A crack appeared, was quickly enlarged by another blow from behind. A third strike blew a ten-foot-tall gap in the barrier.
Then a figure stepped through, clutching a strange, battered weapon, and she was running forward even before he saw her.
"Lyssa!" Colwyn opened his arms to her.
"I knew you'd come," she sobbed. "I knew that if any man could find me here it would be you!"
"I'd have cut a trail through the center of Krull itself to reach you." He pulled away from her kiss. "You don't look injured."
"My body is unharmed. It was my mind that had begun to worry me. I do not think I could have kept up hope forever." She spared a bitter glance for her prison. "It doesn't take long for the absence of light to kill a flower."
A soft thump reached them from across the chamber and Lyssa turned quickly toward it. "He always signals his approach, though whether to frighten or warn me I do not know."
Colwyn took a new grip on the glaive. "I have penetrated his lair and battled past every obstacle he's thrown at me. I'm not frightened."
"Be cautious, then, if not fearful, husband-to-be. He is nothing to underestimate."
"I never underestimate death, love. He is a sickness that must be banished from Krull." He showed her the glaive. "I have brought the right medicine to treat with."
"Not in here, Colwyn. This is his sanctuary. He is too powerful here. He seems to draw strength and comfort from this place, though I know not how. You must fight him away from the center."
"You know him better than I. I accept your strategy, wife."
He flung the glaive toward the far side of the chamber, above the place where faint pulses of light could be seen in the distance. The weapon struck the arch above the entrance, shattering it. A second throw buried the doorway with rubble.
"That will not prevent him from following," she told him.
"I do not expect it to. I buy time to prepare." He offered his hand. "Come."
Lyssa accepted his hand and together they made their way out through the gap he'd blasted in the wall, Colwyn glancing backward to make certain nothing sprang on them from behind.
The chamber outside the dome was not the flower gardens decorating the rear courtyard of the White Castle, but to Lyssa it seemed a step closer to paradise. She stepped out onto the smooth floor, relieved to be free of the Beast's sanctuary, and turned to await her lover.
Intent on the newly carved passageway into the dome, she failed to notice the Slayer that had materialized behind her. Its attention was not directed toward her but was focused on the emerging figure just beyond. It raised a long, glowing spear.
At the last instant she sensed movement behind her, turned, and shouted a warning. "Colwyn!"
He ducked instinctively and flung the glaive. Lyssa spun away from the flying splinters as the glaive shattered the spear and continued on to bury itself between the
Slayer's eyes. It hung embedded until the Slayer began to topple, then arced back to Colwyn's waiting hand.
Lyssa eyed the sparkling weapon with amazement. "That is no device of recent manufacture."
" 'Tis older than you can imagine. A very wise man led me to it. Some day I'll tell you all about him. A fine story with which to regale our children. Children who will grow up in a world free of the Beast and his minions."
"Our children, yes," she whispered. "A good thought to cling to." She saw that he was looking past her. A glance revealed nothing but empty corridor beyond. "What troubles you, husband?"
"I did not come alone. There were others who've aided me and I see no sign of them."
"Which way did you come?"
He gestured toward the near tunnel. "Down that passage in a near straight line from the outside wall."
"Then perhaps they've gone on ahead to make sure the way out is clear. I'll go and see, if you wish to search this room."
"And have the Slayers take you a second time and carry you off to another cell? No. Stay here and search with your eyes if you wish, but I'll not be separated from you again."
She nodded understandingly. "There may not be time to search for anything." From within the dome the sound of rubble being pushed aside could be heard. "He comes."
"As good a place as any." Colwyn examined ceiling and walls. "He would likely catch us in that tunnel. Here I have more room to maneuver." In any fight he'd always relied on his speed and quickness. Now was not the time to be trapped like a termite in some narrow corridor.
Nor would he abandon this place without learning the fate of his companions. Lyssa must understand that. A glance at her expression told him that she did.
At least they were together again, and together they would leave this place, on the plane of the living or of the dead. His fingers tensed on the glaive as he waited for whatever might emerge from the crack in the dome's wall.