Beyong the Moons

Chapter Twenty-three

Teldin hit the fleshy form beneath him with a glancing blow, bounced off onto the open floor, and sprawled into the dirt. The yrthni-ma‘adi gave a scream of raw desire and surged toward Teldin in a flowing mass. As the human struggled to his knees, his mind filled with panic and he felt something soft brush the back of his legs.

From above the farmer could hear the overmaster let loose an exultant cry. “Shown itself cloak has!”

“Damn cloak!” Teldin gasped as he dove to the side, dodging the giant, maggotish old master’s lunge. The cloth billowed behind him, just missing being caught in the bloated neogi’s jaws. The creature hit the wall with a resounding thud, shaking the overmaster on the platform above. With a screech of pain, the yrthni-ma’adi hauled its bulk around for another attack. Teldin scrambled backward and warily circled away from the creature, trying to keep the small pole of his former perch between them.

The human had no idea how long he had been playing this game of lunge and dodge, nor any idea how much longer he could keep it up. Each breath was a searing gasp of pain. His side was on fire, and the wounds on his chest were bleeding again. With each lunge, the weakened farmer moved a little slower and the jaws of the yrthni-ma‘adi snapped a little closer.

“Human meat,” taunted the overmaster from above, “soon kinsman avoid not. Your flesh he will eat. Then cloak I will take and most powerful overmaster I will be.”

Teldin risked a glance up at the eel-like little face that peered from the darkness. “Why don’t you come down and get it, you monster?” he defiantly breathed. The bloated creature moved in the corner of his eye, and the exhausted yeoman shuffled left, keeping the pole between the two.

“Wait I will, meat. Much longer it will be not,” the neogi’s voice echoed back. “Wise that is.”

Before Teldin could answer, the heaving bulk lunged again, this time straight across the center, ignoring the pole. The light timber snapped like a dry twig under the beast’s hurtling mass. The human dove out of the way, wincing as his already pummeled shoulder smashed into the wall. With a screech of frustration, the swollen neogi lunged again with lightning speed. The cloakmaster rolled across the ground and barely managed to get his body clear before the sluglike form crashed into the wall where he had been. A crack of wood echoed through the hold and the walls of the pen trembled. Above, the two neogi, the overmaster and M’phei, clung fearfully to their perches.

Teldlin scrambled to his feet before the yrthni-ma‘adi recovered, rapping his knuckles against the broken pole. Not daring to take his eyes off the creature, he groped frantically until his fingers closed on the shaft. The farmer awkwardly hefted it, turning the jagged broken end toward the beast. The pole made a long and clumsy spear, but it was better than no weapon at all, and with it Teldin could jab at the bloated form as Gomja had taught him, trying to keep the creature at bay.

Surprised by this sudden counterattack, the beast slowly gave way. Teldin drove it back, until the yrthni-ma‘adi crouched along the wall opposite him, feinting first to the left, then right, while the human inexpertly parried each move. Just finishing a thrust to the right, the farmer noticed a crack in the wall alongside him. It was where the beast had crashed before, apparently with enough force to splinter the pen’s wooden planking.

The jagged line became a chance in Teldin’s mind as he formulated a plan for escape. Feigning exhaustion, he let the pole drop slightly. The great old master lunged forward, only to be brought to a halt as the lanky yeoman snapped the tip up in its path. Quivering with rage, the creature heaved back toward its wall and renewed its lunges and feints with increased intensity, gurgling in frustration. Teldin kept toying with it, driving the beast to even more frantic attempts.

Suddenly the distended creature lunged forward in earnest. Teldin was not ready to put his plan into action, but when he thrust the pole, the great old master was not deterred. The beast hit the shaft squarely; the wood pierced the fleshy body with a squishy pop. The pole was torn from Teldin’s grasp and skidded across the deck until it jammed against the wall. The great old master bore down upon the spar, forcing the wood to twist and bend. The beast’s pallid, baggy skin tore open in a great rent, oozing yellowish ichor. Squealing and grunting in half-formed speech, the swollen freak flailed madly, crashing against the pen. The farmer dodged aside, narrowly avoiding pole and flesh as the enraged monster slammed from wall to wall. Abruptly the great old master sagged in a quivering heap, mouthing whimpering moans as its body gurgled and heaved.

“My unborn kin-slaves! My children you hurt, human meat!” the overmaster screamed from overhead. The golden-skinned neogi scrambled forward and peered over the edge, looking down at its freakish progenitor, then glared at the stumbling human. “You great old master slowly eats! Look what you have done.” The malevolent spider-eel waved a claw toward the injured grotesquery.

Teldin turned to look, attracted by a sucking, tearing noise that came from the beast. This was not the monster’s mewling, but the sound of flesh slowly pulling apart. In the dim light, the human saw the oozing wound from his spear heave, wiggle, then part. A squirming, wormlike shape, about as thick as the farmer’s muscular thigh, protruded from the gash. It thrust about, then fell to the deck with a soft, wet plop. Another followed, then a third; on the floor they looked like segmented and slime-covered maggots of obscene size. Even in this larval stage, Teldin could see the needlelike teeth and snakelike heads of tiny neogi. The worms writhed and weakly bit anything their blind faces touched, in venomous imitation of their elders. Repulsed, Teldin watched in unmoving horror. The deformed parent, perhaps sensing the man’s shock, sprang forward at the farmer, launching its bloated body with astounding might. At first unaware of the attack, Teldin barely tore his attention from the vile offspring in time. The farmer pitched to the deck, and the flaccid mass brushed over his back. Ichor from the wound dribbled across him and Teldin barely rolled clear of the crushing weight.

There was a shearing crack mixed with a shrill scream as the bloated neogi rammed into the splintered wall, sending a shock wave through the corpulent mass. The creature’s head and tiny chest were mashed to a pulp, mingled with the shattered boards. The cage wall buckled outward, and the braces snapped with thunder-clap cracks. The balcony swayed and crashed to the deck in a rain of wood, followed by the boards of the walls.

The yrthni-ma‘adi gave a single bellow, gurgling through its broken face while bubbling up yellowish ichor. The huge body flailed and thrashed, widening the breach. Teldin staggered warily toward the opening, keeping clear of the heaving flesh. New wounds oozed on the creature’s sides, spewing more of the mucous-covered hatchlings through its gaping cuts. The slime-coated maggots instinctively wriggled for safety. Teldin winced in pain as one of the little monsters seized his ankle in its razor-sharp teeth. With savage desperation, the farmer kicked the creature free, smashing its soft body against the wall. The limp carcass was immediately set upon by others of its kind, tearing and fighting over the newborn flesh.

Fortunately for Teldin, there was no time to stop and think. The parent monster had stopped its writhing, though the body was still shaken by convulsions. “Meat! My kin-slaves meat kill!” shrilled the overmaster as it clung to its swaying perch on the opposite wall. Teldin didn’t wait to hear more. Invigorated by the chance for freedom, he leaped over the old master’s shuddering corpse.

He landed on the deck outside the pen, but slipped in a jumble of broken wood and sticky ichor and skidded across the floor, adding just one more agony to his throbbing body. The bloodied human regained his balance, snatched up a fallen lantern, and ran toward what he hoped was the companionway to the ship’s upper deck.

There was a crashing noise behind Teldin, a grinding of wood and metal. He risked a glance over his shoulder to see the lantern lights over the pen bob, wave, then sink toward the floor. With one wall collapsed, the whole structure leisurely fell in upon itself. Teldin couldn’t tell if the neogi overmaster rode his perch to destruction or if the hateful little creature had managed to escape. He was not about to go back and check.

The doors to the ship’s hold loomed ahead. Teldin stopped, afraid to go forward but knowing there was nothing but pain behind him. The air in the gloomy chamber felt stifling and close while the noise of the collapse echoed furiously in the cavernous hold. The farmer was certain the racket could be heard throughout the ship, certain it would put the neogi on alert.

The hollow grating of claws against metal roused the numbed fugitive to action. The overmaster’s sibilant voice whispered in the distance. The words were unclear, but the relentless tread of the neogi’s lordservant was perfectly heard. Teldin shuttered his lantern so that only a little glow appeared, then he plunged through the doorway and into the hall. He headed left and broke into a loping run, ignoring the pain in his legs and the blood running down his sides. Incongruously, the cloak fluttered out behind him. Teldin cursed it as he ran; it had done nothing to save him and, instead, had brought him closer to death.

The cloakmaster rounded a bend in the corridor and was rewarded with the sight of a ladder leading to an upper deck. He blindly grasped it and clambered up. Below, the umber hulk’s clicking toenails faded in the distance.

At the top of the ladder, Teldin poked his head through the hatch. The next deck was dark, so the human hung on the rungs, listening as long as he dared, but there was no sound from the blackness. He hoisted the lantern up and carefully opened a shutter to let a beam of light play over the floor. The landing was empty, so Teldin sprawled on the cold metal deck, waiting to catch his breath.

It was only after he had stopped panting that the cloakmaster was ready to move again. The overmaster's umber hulk would soon regain the trail, and the longer Teldin stayed here, the sooner it, or another, would find him. Still, he was puzzled by the fact that he had not met another neogi during his flight. It seemed all the more surprising after the pandemonium his escape had created. The ship was too quiet, as if it had been deserted. Partly curious-but mostly running on survival instincts-Teldin took up his lantern and cautiously began exploring again.

The farmer left the landing and was struck by a feeling of familiarity. He checked one of the rooms by pulling open the heavy metal portal and letting the lantern shine in. The beam played over a blood-crusted table.

Panic rose from Teldin ‘s core and grabbed hold of his gut. He slammed the door shut and fell against it, his body seized by uncontrollable shivers so strong that the lantern jiggled and wavered, throwing wild, leaping shadows all around. The farmer-turned-cloakmaster fought to drive away the fear that transformed the leaping shapes into hideous tormenters.

A deep boom, followed by a shudder through the deck, passed unnoticed by Teldin. A second explosion and a third caused no more reaction from the human, but the noises had not gone unnoticed elsewhere. Voices and the hammering of running feet came from the aft, and Teldin realized with apprehension that the ship was not deserted.

The need to act once again drove away his demons, and Teldin headed away from all the noise. Whatever was happening aft meant neogi were there, the fugitive reasoned, and he did not want to run into them. With wavering footsteps, the farmer ducked down a long, gray hallway lined with doors and stopped at each long enough to peer in. The first few he checked contained nothing but junk-old sails, spools of cable, buckets, and spare blocks. Just as he was closing the door on the third, a glint of metal caught his attention. Teldin looked closer and found that it was Eversharp, his spear, shoved into a pile of ethereal sailcloth. Eagerly, the farmer pulled the slender spear from the mass, working it free from a tangle of netting. Tapping the butt against the deck with a solid wooden thump made Teldin feel much better.

The ship shuddered with another explosion. Aware and alert once again, the farmer speculated about the cause. It was either outside or inside, and he guessed inside, probably caused by his escape. Perhaps the yrthni-ma‘adi was still alive and rampaging in the hold; perhaps its maggot spawn were responsible. Teldin didn’t care, since whatever it was had apparently drawn the neogi and their lordservants aft.

The yeoman pressed on, steadying himself with one hand on the bulkheads at all times. The blasts became more violent, causing the ship to lurch with each thundering roar. “I must have done better than I thought,” mumbled Teldin in a daze. He continued the fruitless room-to-room search. While he found no one, nor, more importantly, an exit, each room was more imposing than the last.

Teldin drew up at another door, spear poised, hand on handle. “There meat is!” a voice behind him hissed. Teldin almost dropped the lance in surprise, but managed to maintain his composure enough to turn about. With a flick, the human unshuttered the lantern, flooding the hail with light. There at the back of the corridor, hiding its eyes from the unaccustomed brilliance, was the golden-skinned and tattooed overmaster. Its draped robe was tattered and stained, and yellow fluid seeped from cuts and scrapes up and down its neck. Behind it loomed the overmaster’s ferocious umber hulk lordservant. Teidin caught a glance of its swirling, multifaceted eyes, his knees suddenly buckled, and he remained standing only by sagging against the bulkhead. “Meat lordservant kill!” screeched the neogi, leaping aside for its slave’s rush.

The cloakmaster supported himself with one hand on the wall and braced the spear to receive the creature’s charge, certain that he was about to fall to the umber hulk’s crushing swipes. Nonetheless, Teldin was determined to fight to his last. The umber hulk steadily advanced, building speed with each step, claws sweeping the ground before it.

Aloud, explosive crack, followed immediately by another, brought the umber hulk’s menacing advance to an abrupt halt. The bone-plated beast jerked upright and let loose a chittering squeal as its mandibles ground and clattered in rage and surprise. The beast lurched forward for half a step, propelled by invisible blows from behind, then whirled about with its arms out-flung. The umber hulk’s huge talons gouged furrows through the metal bulkheads. Teldin saw a pair of splintered, bloody holes in the creature’s bony hide, just over the left shoulder.

“Second section-spears at ready!” boomed a familiar, deep voice from the far end of the hall. Teldin stood flabbergasted; it was Gomja. Over the umber hulk’s chittering roar the yeoman heard high-pitched voices launch into long tirades. “Belay the prattle!” the voice boomed again. Before any more could be said, the wounded umber hulk crashed into its attackers.

Screams of metal, beast, and gnomes sang through the corridor. In the dim light at the end, the umber hulk was a flailing shadow of rage as its claws rose and fell. A small body hurtled over its shoulder, splattering blood across the ceiling. The disemboweled projectile landed near the overmaster as the neogi crouched against the wall. “Lordservant kill!” the vile little fiend shrieked. “Hateful meat I will kill.” Malicious fire gleamed in its eyes as the neogi looked toward Teldin, who wobbled on his feet in the corridor. The umber hulk howled with renewed fury.

Warily scuttling closer on its spider legs, the overmaster bobbed and weaved its small head, looking for an opening to deliver a vicious bite. It moved its body like a fencer, head and neck like the sword. It feinted, then riposted when Teldin’s thrusts carried him past the mark, and the supple neck dodged Teldin’s strikes with artful ease.

Teldin’s every block and thrust grew weaker. The adrenaline and fear that had sustained his body for so long were fading, leaving only a hollow shell. The concentration it took to battle the overmaster simply was not there. With each strike, the neogi edged closer to Teldin, confident that soon it would make the kill.

“Meat, surrender,” the overmaster crooned confidently. “Only cloak I want. Failed your friends have. Most powerful my lordservant is. Help you they cannot. Their dying you hear.” The raging screams of battle still issued from the hallway. Teldin paused for a moment, listening to the neogi’s words, and the overmaster lunged at the opportunity. The tottering human barely beat back the attack. “Cloak you give me, human. Then kill you I will not-eat you I will not. With cloak offer generosity I can. Only slave you will be.”

Teeth clenched, Teldin lunged forward. Eversharp nipped the neogi’s shoulder and tore away the little spider- thing’s robe, revealing the brown-furred body underneath.

“No! I can still kill you!” The cloakmaster seethed, but his timing and speed were off. Before he could recover, the neogi darted in and struck. Rows of razored teeth clamped down of Teldin’s forearm, biting almost to the bone.

“Aaahh!” Teldin screamed as first pain, then numbness seized his arm. His fingers spasmed, releasing Eversharp, which clattered to the floor. The neogi clung on and, with a vicious tug, threw the farmer to his knees. The overmaster twisted the human’s arm, triumphantly forcing his prey to the floor until the little neogi towered over Teldin. The farmer stared up into the neogi’s face, its blood-soaked jaws still clamped on his arm and its little eyes gloating with victory.

“First section! Prepare to fire!” echoed Gomja’s voice over the din. Teldin had forgotten the giff, and a wild notion of rescuing Gomja leaped into his pain-racked mind. The human clung to it, refusing to surrender. His fingers touched his spear haft and weakly wrapped around it.

As Teldin struggled to strike a blow, the corridor erupted in a blast. A wind of steam and debris whipped past the battling pair, and the floor buckled, flinging the two apart. Teldin’s ears were numb, nearly deaf. As the vapor roiled away, the farmer looked down the corridor, searching for the overmaster or umber hulk. The neogi was huddled in a ball across the hallway; all that remained of the umber hulk was a black smear that covered the floor, walls, and ceiling. Something wet loosened from the ceiling and hit the floor with a plop.

The overmaster gaped at the carnage. “Dead-my lord-servant, the neogi said slowly. It almost sounded sorrowful. “Killed it meat did.”

Teldin didn’t wait for the distracted creature to recover, knowing he could not allow the risk. With a desperate lunge, the yeoman thrust Eversharp, catching the overmaster just below the head. The startled neogi gave a squawk of surprise as the human bore down with all his might, driving the spear cleanly through the gray flesh. The legs flailed madly while the overmaster futilely bit and snapped at the shaft. Teldin gripped the lance with both hands to keep the squirming neogi from tearing free. Slowly the death-struggles ceased, until only random spasms shook the dying form. His energy spent, the cloakmaster sagged beside the slain foe.

“Sir!” came Gomja’s voice, muted in Teldin’s ringing ears. The giff lumbered down the hall to where the human lay sprawled. “Sir, you’re alive!”

Teldin weakly pulled himself up as confirmation. “Gomja,” he mumbled with heart-felt relief, “what are you doing here?” The farmer slid back to the floor, and the giff gently eased Teldin to his feet.

“Counterattack, sir. We’ve cleared nearly all of Mount Nevermind.” Cradling Teldin in one big arm, Gomja paused to issue orders to the impatiently waiting gnomes. A squad quickly hurried down the hail to the door at the other end and, with an amazing assemblage of tools and devices, set to work on cutting open the portal. Teldin vaguely wondered if any of them had tried the handle first.

" …attacked by surprise here. Nearly all the neogi were ashore, so there wasn’t much resistance,” Gomja was saying. The human had missed most of the explanation, but he really didn’t care. The giff guided his weakened companion forward. A cry of triumph rose from the gnomes as the door-the entire bulkhead, frame and all-fell in with a crash. Weapons brandished with reckless abandon, the pot-helmed little warriors rushed into the chamber, ignoring Gomja’s shouted commands for order and discipline.

Luck was with the gnomes, for the room was deserted. It appeared to be the bridge, for in the center of the room was a large chair that Teldin guessed was the captain’s. A long table, spread with charts, stood to one side, and three huge, round portholes dominated the wails, offering a broad view of the lake beneath the ship. Through a single porthole Teldin could see the deck of the Unquenchable not far below. A stream of gnomes scurried down the pier, carrying huge bundles on their backs, while another line hurried from the dreadnought to fetch another load.

Elsewhere on the crater floor Teldin saw the gleam of metal sparsely punctuated by sudden clouds of steam. A scattered line of neogi and their iordservants were being driven away from the gates of Nevermind. Teldin could barely distinguish the shiny forms of the gnome warriors in their pot-topped armor, though their absurd war engines- bizarre catapults and throwing devices-stood out clearly. The gnomes seemed to be winning, perhaps because of their sheer numbers, but the neogi were making an orderly retreat. The farmer weakly wondered why the invaders were retreating toward the far end of the crater.

Suddenly the deck lurched under Teldin’s feet, though not from an explosion, as he had first thought. “Aha!” cried the gnomes with glee. One of their number, nicknamed “Salaman” for Teldin’s benefit, who was an old, puffy-faced fellow with eyes more sagacious than most, who sat in the chair with a look of intense concentration on his face. The deck quivered again, causing the gnomes to cheer once more. Teldin stared back out the porthole for a clue.

At first Teldin could see nothing extraordinary, certainly nothing that would cause the tinkers to break into cheers. Then he noticed the ship’s shadow below them. It moved, rippling over the broken crater floor. The Unquenchable was no longer where it had been; the neogi ship had shifted to port, and the lake’s blue water was coming closer.

“Attention,” began one of the senior gnomes, or so Teldin judged from the little tinker’s wrinkled face, bushy, gray eyebrows, and incongruous gray braids, “upon making contact with the water, artifice engineers will begin dismantling the spelljamming helm and transfer it to the Unquenchable before this ship, which our naval engineers have determined is unseaworthy, sinks-”

“Sir,” Gomja called from across the room, “are you able to walk, sir, or would you like me to arrange a litter? We can’t stay on this ship too much longer.”

“I can walk," Teldin insisted. Even though his legs felt like lead, his streak of familial stubbornness refused any aid. He took two steps and pitched forward as the ship jerkily lowered. Gomja quickly came to his side.

“Let me help you, sir. We have to hurry.” Teldin shot him a quizzical look, too fogged to understand Gomja’s meaning. “The gnomes plan to land this ship beside the Unquenchable, sir. I don’t think deathspiders float very well.” Lending support to Teldin, Gomja stopped near the crew of tinkers busily disassembling the captain’s chair. “How long will it take you to get the helm out?”

The gray-braided supervisor looked up and popped an oversized jeweler’s loupe out of his eye. “Well, the whole frame attachment is counter-buckled to the-”

“I asked how long, Section Three,” Gomja groused. The gnome paled and earnestly held up five fingers.

“Five minutes, Sergeant Gomja,” the gnome briskly said.

“Make it four.” Without waiting for a reply, Gomja guided his friend to the door.

“What was that all about?” Teldin asked in a shaky voice as the giff led him down the hall.

“Just a little discipline, sir,” Gomja cheerfully replied. “Oh,” Teldin commented, unconvinced. There was a loud splash and the deck bounced as the deathspider hit the water. Recovering from the jolt, Gomja hurriedly lifted the weakened human from the floor and urged him toward the gangway. The hull creaked and groaned as the water quickly seeped into the lower hold.

“I’m sorry, sir, but we’d better hurry,” Gomja explained, scooping Teldin up before the human could protest. The giff cradled his frail friend in his massive arms and set out at a jarring sprint for the upper decks.

“What about the gnomes? What was that thing they were working on? The helm, you called it?” Teldin painfully asked as they bounced along.

“The helm? It’s the engine, the thing that makes a spelljammer go,” Gomja explained between pants.

“That thing? It was like a chair,” Teldin said.

“Well, sir, that’s what it is. Without it, this deathspider will never fly-and the gnomes can use it on the Unquenchable. I don’t really understand, but the tinkers do.” Gomja strode up a ramp to the upper deck. Bright sunlight assailed Teldin ‘s eyes as the giff stepped onto the weapons deck. A team of gnomes was swarming over a half-disassembled catapult, passing the pieces to a boat waiting over the side. Reaching the edge of the deck, Teldin could see bubbles rise as water rushed into the deathspider’s bowels. The human reveled in the thought of the great old master trapped in fast-flooding chambers.

“It’s time to leave, sir,” Gomja said, lowering Teldin, bleeding and bruised, to the outstretched hands below. A gnomish flotilla, rowboats that looked as if they couldn’t possibly float, waited alongside.