In the Empire of Shadow

Chapter Six

Valadrakul gestured, and the foremost hellbeast exploded in golden fire. Pel ducked instinctively as football-sized gobbets of black slime spattered across the ground and the side of the ship. Another flash he guessed to be Elani’s doing.

The other hellbeasts came on without slowing, and before Pel could raise his head one of them struck him on the shoulders and spun him around, slamming him against the hull. Dazed, he could see nothing but purple paint on smooth metal as sharp claws or teeth-he couldn’t tell which-chewed at the back of his head.

Then there came a brilliant yellow flash, and Pel could feel things sliding down his back, across his buttocks and down the back of his legs.

People were screaming, he could hear them, and there were other noises, gnashings and scratchings and gurglings. He heard a loud popping, and realized that it was the sound of a gunshot-Susan had fired her pistol. Another flash sent spots dancing before his eyes.

He remembered the other fight against Shadow’s creatures. That had been different; they had come up from beneath the ground, rather than down from the sky, and then hundreds more had come in from all sides, from the surrounding forest. There had been no warning at all, and the group there had been somewhat different-Cahn and his crew were there instead of Dibbs and his squad, the little people had still been alive, Nancy and Rachel were there. There had been no ship, but a woodshed with a magical portal in it, and the party, hopelessly outnumbered and outmatched, had fled through the portal.

This time, there was no portal-unless one of the wizards could open one, and that seemed unlikely, in the midst of battle, without any previous preparation. Pel knew nothing about how the portals worked, but he remembered that Elani had needed several minutes to open one.

If they faced those limitless hordes again, the hundreds of horrible things that had come leaping out of the forest, they were surely all as good as dead. A few might escape into the surrounding forest, but what would become of them then? They would be lost, to starve or be picked off one by one by Shadow’s creatures.

Maybe, Pel thought, it was almost over. Maybe, in a few minutes, he would be joining Nancy and Rachel-either in death, or waking up again safely back home on Earth.

Unsteadily, shielding his face with one arm and bracing himself against the ship with the other, Pel turned.

Twisted fragments of monster were strewn everywhere, horribly out of place in the bright midday sun-some like the remains of a gigantic burst black balloon, some like black jelly, some like charred driftwood or burned roasts, all dark and harsh against the gentler colors of the forest. Valadrakul stood amid the debris, systematically targeting the survivors-a fifth exploded as it gnawed on someone, one of the group that had stood to the side, Amy and Ted and Elani. All three of them were down, lying on the ground with hellbeasts atop them. As Pel watched, something in that heap flashed white, but the monsters continued their assault. Whatever magic Elani had attempted had not worked.

Pel’s own group, by the ship, was also under attack-there were creatures assaulting Prossie Thorpe and Stoddard, and one lay dead at Susan’s feet, the back of its head blown apart. Pel judged that Susan had thrust the .38 into its mouth before pulling the trigger.

A single monster had gone after Raven, who had warded it off with his club; the antagonists were now facing off, a few feet apart. It seemed to Pel that there was something unnatural about Raven’s position, and for a second that puzzled him. Then he realized what it was; the natural pose for a man with a club would be to hold the weapon in both hands, or to keep his free hand up, ready to grab. Instead, Raven’s bandaged left hand hung uselessly at his side.

None of the beasts had attacked the Imperial soldiers; hiding under the ship’s wing had apparently been a successful ploy. Pel found himself irrationally resenting that.

And there was no second wave, no throng of monsters spilling out of the trees and underbrush. In fact, this time the humans seemed to be getting the better of the fight.

Stoddard had his attacker, a thing like a greyhound with bat-wings and elongated, tentacular forelegs, by the throat, and was squeezing; the monster was trying to wrap its own snakelike limbs around the big man’s neck in return, but its head was twisted back so that it could not see its foe, and Stoddard jerked it from side to side, so that it was having trouble finding its target.

Prossie’s opponent was smaller, and resembled a flying spider, or perhaps a winged monkey; at first glance it didn’t look big enough to be seriously dangerous, but Pel could see blood on Prossie’s hair and uniform as she rolled on the ground struggling with it.

“Lieutenant!” Pel shouted. “Do something!”

Valadrakul flung out a hand, and the thing attacking Prossie exploded.

One hellbeast had landed atop Colonel Carson’s corpse; realizing at last that its prey was already dead, it turned toward the ship and slithered forward, wings dragging behind. Pel was not sure who it was aiming for, Valadrakul or Prossie or himself.

Stoddard began slamming his antagonist against the side of Christopher, a steady dull thudding.

“Come on, men!” Dibbs called; he came charging out of his shelter brandishing a thick chunk of tree-limb. Several soldiers followed; Pel, startled, saw that three or four did not, but remained where they were, huddled under the guidance vane.

Half a dozen men landed atop the slithering creature, arms rising and falling as they pounded at it with rocks and clubs; other men flung themselves at the two monsters that were still atop Elani’s group.

A sharp crack sounded, and Stoddard’s creature went limp. Thin liquid oozed down the side of the ship.

Valadrakul worked his magic once more, and Raven’s opponent burst into ruin without ever striking a blow.

In seconds, the remaining creatures were dead, and the humans were brushing themselves off, gingerly testing wounds, assessing the damage.

Pel had superficial scratches on his head and back, and the T-shirt he wore had been shredded, but he was not seriously injured. None of the soldiers had received anything worse than a few scratches on their hands and arms. Valadrakul and Raven were untouched; Stoddard had bruises on one forearm and a red abrasion on the side of his neck.

Prossie had received dozens of shallow slashes from the razor-edged feet of the thing she had fought, and had lost enough blood to make her dizzy. She sat against the base of a tree, resting, while the others gathered.

Elani, Amy, and Ted were in a pile, under several dead monsters; it took the others a few moments to dig them out.

Ted was on the bottom, and had had the wind knocked out of him, but was otherwise not visibly damaged any further than he had been before. The bandage on his head had been torn off, but the wound beneath appeared no worse.

Amy had three long gashes on one forearm, but had fended off all other attacks; she was pulled upright, dazed and panting.

Elani was dead; she had thrown herself atop the other two, and one of the monsters had torn open the back of her neck, as well as slashing at her head and elsewhere. Her hair and clothing appeared singed, though none of the creatures had used fire in their attacks. Pel wondered if some sort of acid or venom might have been responsible.

“I thought she was supposed to be a wizard,” one of the Imperials muttered.

“She was,” Prossie said.

“Then why didn’t she defend herself, the way whatsisname did?”

“She defended Ted, instead,” Amy explained dully, staring down at the dead sorceress. “She saw he wasn’t moving, so she destroyed the one that went for him, instead of the one that was after her.”

“I saw a flash,” Pel said, “but it didn’t seem to do any good.”

“That was the last time,” Amy said. “I’m not sure…”

“’Twas her death,” Valadrakul said, interrupting. “At a wizard’s death the web of energies that’s been woven about her through all her life comes unraveled all in an instant, and betimes there’s a flash, or a display of one sort or another.” He stared at Elani’s remains with an expression Pel couldn’t interpret-it might have been grief, or anger, or almost anything.

“Well, we…” Dibbs began. He cut off short and looked up, startled, as a deep shadow suddenly fell over the party, blotting out the patchy sunlight.

“What’s that?” a soldier asked.

“The big one,” Valadrakul said, looking up, his face suddenly intent. “’Tis the hellbeast that carried the others hither.” He raised his arms and began a spell.

“Is it attacking, too?”

No one answered, but from overhead came a sudden snapping and crunching-tree-branches were being smashed aside as the thing tried to fight its way to the ground. Leaves and twigs showered down.

Pel looked up, puzzled, trying to locate the descending creature. The trees and shadows made it difficult to see just what was happening.

“Why doesn’t it just come through the hole the ship left?” he asked no one in particular.

Valadrakul was too busy with his magic to answer, and no one else had a ready reply, but then Pel managed to figure out what he was looking at, and realized why. The thing was coming through the hole the ship had left. It still had to break off limbs.

Otherwise, it couldn’t fit.

* * * *

Prossie stared up at the hellbeast in weak and horrified fascination. Behind her, someone screamed, but she didn’t bother to turn and look.

She had heard stories about animals of incredible size that were found on various obscure planets on the outskirts of the Empire-or even worlds that were closer in, but off the main routes. She had generally assumed that such tales were exaggerated; she knew that non-telepaths had a tendency to distort things. Telepaths had something of a self-correcting mechanism, since their memories would automatically be compared with those of the other telepaths, and even so, some events grew in the retelling, so it was no wonder that non-telepaths might blow things all out of proportion.

On the other hand, it was a big universe, and the Empire was full of marvels, so she had never completely dismissed stories of beasts the size of spaceships.

But now that she was actually looking straight up at one, she found it impossible to believe. That thing up there could not be real, she told herself.

A heavy tree-limb plummeted down and smashed ringingly against the grounded spaceship’s metal hull, leaving the opening in the treetops a little larger, giving her a better look at the thing. She stared up, ignoring the leaves, bark, and branches that fell around her.

The hellbeast was roughly bat-shaped, but with a huge, bloated body, a body the length of Christopher but easily twice as thick. The head was raw nightmare, with saw-edged ears the size of sails, man-sized compound eyes where each facet was a slit-pupiled green disk, a mouth that could swallow an aircar; the clustered fangs were like swords, and the dangling purple tongue, thick as a man’s thigh, writhed like a wounded squid’s tentacle.

The wings were still tangled in the surrounding trees, tearing their way through; Prossie glimpsed at least four sets of claws, rather than the two that an ordinary bat would have. And the monster’s shadow covered Christopher, the narrow clearing where the ship had fallen, and a broad stretch of forest to either side.

There was simply no way such a creature could exist in any sane universe.

But then Prossie reminded herself that she was not in a sane universe-she was in Shadow’s realm, in Faerie, where magic ruled and science was powerless.

Regardless of what universe it was, there was still only one sensible reaction to such a monster, and that was to run. The thing might be able to smash its way through the forest, but judging by how slowly it was making its way down to the ship it would not be able to do it with any speed; she ought, she thought, to be able to escape it easily, even in her weak, wounded condition.

She forced herself up onto her feet, bracing herself against the tree she had sat beneath, and was about to flee when Carrie’s mental voice called to her.

“Prossie, they want you to continue the mission, to go on to Shadow’s fortress.”

Prossie stumbled, and looked up at the monster overhead.

She hadn’t been transmitting, there was no way that Carrie could have known what was going on here, but still, the message seemed so irrelevant as to be ridiculous. A dozen dead monstrosities were scattered across the landscape, she was bleeding from a dozen cuts, Elani had been killed, and a nightmare with a quarter-mile wingspan was fighting its way down through the forest, trying to get at them-who cared what a couple of pompous idiots back at Base One wanted? She turned to run.

As she turned, she glimpsed Valadrakul as he flung his spell at the gigantic creature; eldritch energy flashed upward from his raised hands, and sparks flickered across the monster’s belly-but that was all. Nothing exploded; no tattered bits of black monster-flesh fell.

A faint whiff of something unpleasant reached her nose as she ran, but Prossie could not tell whether that meant Valadrakul’s attack had singed the thing slightly, or whether it was the monster’s natural aroma.

Prossie glanced back over her shoulder, and saw Susan point her pistol at the thing. The lawyer looked at the weapon in her hand, then up at the descending horror; she let out a quick bark of laughter, then dropped the gun in her handbag, turned, and ran, following Prossie.

Most of the others were scattering now, as well, and Prossie could only see a few of them; the rest had vanished behind the trees. Valadrakul was standing his ground, chanting; Ted Deranian was lying where he had fallen, watching everything, not moving; but all the others were departing or already gone, at paces ranging from a slow, backward-facing, step-by-step retreat to a full-tilt heedless run.

Prossie’s own pace was somewhere in between; she was moving at a brisk trot, but watching where she was going and glancing back every so often. She didn’t need any more scrapes or scratches, and she didn’t want to leave a trail of her own blood for any of Shadow’s creatures to follow. Right now, she really didn’t want to think about the fight against Shadow itself, or what was happening back at Base One, or long-term plans of any kind; she just wanted to get away, to stay alive and in one piece.

* * * *

Amy had panicked. When she had seen that thing coming down through the trees, had seen its shadow block out the sun, had been showered with twigs and leaves as it broke past the treetops, she had frozen for an instant, and then she had screamed, and she had turned and run.

It was all too much, Colonel Carson’s death, and the hellbeasts, and Elani falling on top of her and dying there, and then that gigantic horror appearing overhead. She had gotten used to the relatively sane and normal life at Base One, and this succession of shocks had broken her nerve temporarily.

But only temporarily; as she stumbled across the uneven floor of the forest she was slowed by the irregular footing, by mounting nausea, and by a wave of guilt.

She knew better. Running away didn’t solve anything, that’s what the counselors and therapists all said. A person must face her fears. The others were still back there, fighting that thing.

She forced herself to stop and turn around.

For a moment, as she stood sweaty and panting, her gashed arm throbbing, she couldn’t see the monster or the ship, only trees-she had covered more ground than she had thought. In her unthinking panic it had seemed as if the creature was right behind her, just inches away; that it was not seemed somehow miraculous.

And then an entirely new sort of panic set in-she was alone, lost in the forest, wounded, with no one to help her and no chance at all of finding her way home. For an instant, from sheer terror, she stopped breathing.

And when the sound of her own breath stopped, she could hear the sounds from the ship-wood breaking, people shouting. She followed them with her gaze, and spotted first the hellbeast’s shadow, then the spaceship, and finally the creature itself.

It was at that moment that Valadrakul flung his new spell; Amy could see it spilling upward from a tiny figure she had not realized was there until the orange plume of fiery magic burst forth.

The scene was so distant that it didn’t seem entirely real; framed between two tree-trunks, it was like a tableau, like some sort of outdoor drama staged for her amusement. The spell was a special effect, something midway between smoke and flame, vividly painted across the image but not entirely convincing It wove upward through the air, into the monster’s open mouth, moving not with the speed of fire, nor the slow grace of smoke, but like the ascending trail of a skyrocket on the Fourth of July.

And then it entered the creature’s mouth, and something exploded, and for a moment light and smoke seemed to obscure everything; Amy had a glimpse of what looked like glowing green crystals where the creature’s eyes should be.

The sound of the explosion reached her, a dull thud that echoed and re-echoed through the forest; she blinked, and when her eyes were open again the monster was falling down through the air, covering the spaceship and the wizard in a lumpy black shroud.

Amy blinked again.

The wizard-that was Valadrakul.

The other wizard, Elani, was dead; with a shock, Amy realized that she still had Elani’s blood on her, in her hair and on her borrowed T-shirt, smeared down her right arm and across the back of her hand.

Elani, the wizard who had agreed to send them home to Earth, was dead.

And Valadrakul, buried under the dying monster, was the only other wizard in the group.

“No!” Amy shrieked. “No, no, no!” Her feet seemed to move of their own accord, and she found herself running back toward the clearing, the ship, and the monster just as desperately as she had fled a moment before.

* * * *

Upon first spotting the hellbeast above, Raven had known instantly that this gigantic manifestation of Shadow’s malice could only be fought with magic; his makeshift club could be of no effect against a beast the size of a castle.

This was Valadrakul’s fight, then. Elani was fallen, and her skills had never lain in the area of combat, in any case.

“An I can serve,” Raven called, “you need but speak!”

Valadrakul ignored him-and quite rightly.

A woman screamed, and Raven heard running feet. For his own part, he bethought him that a cautious retreat might be advised, lest he be struck down by the monster’s struggles, all unintended. He began pacing slowly back, away from the wizard and the arena.

The first spell was launched, to no effect, but that troubled Raven not a whit; Valadrakul was but trying out his foe, using against it the spell that had sufficed to destroy the lesser beasts. Raven had seen wizards do the same upon many a previous occasion.

Debris was falling freely now, leaves and branches; Raven retreated farther. He judged that the monster was free of obstructions, and stared upward, trying to determine why it did not fall, in all its fury, upon those below.

Men were shouting-undoubtedly the odious Dibbs and his underlings, but Raven spared no glance for such as they.

The beast, he could see, was gripping the great trees with its claws, holding itself aloft as it studied what lay below. It could see the sky-ship, but surely knew not what it might be. Likewise could it see Valadrakul; did it know him for what he was? If so, it might strike him down before another spell could be cast.

Raven hesitated. Valadrakul was too intrigued in his magicks to move of his own choice; should one then try to pull him thence, out from beneath his foe, ere disaster might arrive? An it might disrupt a casting, yet would it save the wizard to fight again.

Ere he could decide, another spell went up-no mere bolt like the last, but a torrent of glowing force, orange and gray, smoke and fire bound into one. It leapt up from the wizard’s hands and into the beast’s gaping maw.

The thing, in anticipation of the attack, had released its hold upon the trees, had drawn in its claws and begun to fold its great wings.

And then all happened with such speed that Raven could not follow. Valadrakul’s fire caught at the inside of the monster’s throat, and its head seemed to be burnt out from within, the glow of the flames visible for an instant through its crystalline eyes; smoke and fire billowed forth, obscuring all; and the creature fell.

Sound and wind forced Raven back; he flung up his arms to protect his face, and thus did not see the actual impact. The rush of air knocked him back against a tree; his head struck hard against the wood, and for a moment his thoughts were scattered.

When he could see again, and understand what he saw, the spaceship was gone from his sight. The clearing, too, was gone. Valadrakul was gone, and Colonel Carson’s remains, and poor Elani’s. The demented Earthman, Ted Deranian, had vanished as well.

And in the place of all of them was only a great black heap.

It needed a moment ere Raven understood that that heap was the remains of the fallen bat creature.

And that Ted Deranian and Valadrakul lay somewhere beneath it.