Castle for Rent (20 page)

A high-pitched, agonized yowl, as from a strange, half-human creature, came from somewhere ahead. Various grunting and snorting sounds arose from the woods.

“The natives are having nervous breakdowns,” Incarnadine muttered.

After a time, the filaments all turned bright blue, growing brighter as the seconds passed. Trent worked furiously, eyes caged on his work, his pale brow furrowed, fingers flying. Incarnadine took a step back as the pattern began to emit great waves of heat. The filaments turned blue-white and kept increasing in luminosity. Finally they became stark, blinding white, humming and crackling with energy.

Finished at last, Trent staggered back, flinching from the intense heat. “Gods!” He wiped the film of sweat from his forehead.

“I'm impressed,” Incarnadine said, studying the pattern. “That's the hairiest-looking Power Grid I've ever seen. Three-dimensional, too! How the hell did you execute all those icosahedrons so quickly?"

“I nearly burned my damn face off doing it.” Trent exhaled slowly, straightening his clothes. “But she'll hold for hours.” He glanced around. “It's rained recently, so there isn't much chance of a fire unless we overload it."

The roar of some great, hellish beast rent the night.

“That is a distinct possibility,” Incarnadine said, looking off into the darkness.

“The only thing that will save us,” Trent said, “
might
save us, is that they will be dealing with the same unfavorable conditions, with respect to magic in general, as we. On the down side, they seemed to have learned very quickly."

They left the anomaly blazing behind them like an overloaded Art Deco neon sign. The deer trail continued for another twenty yards, debouching into a hayfield that slanted up a low rise. They struck out into the open, crushing dry, brittle grass underfoot. Light came from over the rise, outlining the top of the hill.

“We should stick to cover,” Trent said.

“I suspect they know exactly where we are. Whoever or whatever we have to face, we might as well face them in the open."

Weighty footsteps sounded just over the hill, along with a deep-throated growl. Then a ferocious saurian head appeared above the line of the hilltop, its fiery eyes sweeping the field below. The rest of the monster came into view as it topped the rise. At least twenty feet tall, it vaguely resembled a Tyrannosaurus rex, but differed chiefly by virtue of its fully prehensile, thickly muscled upper limbs, at the ends of which sprouted huge curving talons. Its eyes glowed like yellow beacons, and faint red flames shot from its mouth as it took each whistling breath.

“On second thought,” Incarnadine said.

They dashed off in opposite directions, both heading for woods on either side. The monster swung its gaze between them, pondering which quarry would make the tastiest morsel.

Then it made its decision and sprang forward to give chase.

 

 

 

Castle

 

They found more dead Bluefaces everywhere they went. Blue corpses littered the rooms and corridors, lay like butchered meat in the great halls and stairwells. They marveled at the slaughter, surprised to be feeling a tinge of pity. It seemed certain that none of the invaders were left alive. If any had survived, they were likely in hiding or had beat a hasty retreat back to their world.

“Serves ‘em right, I guess,” Gene said.

“They didn't have to kill all of them,” Linda said.

“Yeah, but who are ‘they'?"

“Good fighters,” Snowclaw commented.

Gene whistled. “Sure are. That means we're in a worse situation than we were with these guys."

“Same difference,” Linda said. “Both ways, we're out of the castle."

“I don't know,” Gene said as he bent to inspect a charred and blackened corpse. “Incarnadine and his Guard might have been able to take the castle back from the Bluefaces. But against whoever or whatever did this, I'm a little pessimistic of their chances. Very pessimistic, actually."

They walked on a little farther, coming into a large empty dining hall. A few more dismembered cadavers lay about.

“We'd better find a good aspect fast,” Gene said, keeping his voice low. “I think this is the King's Hall. Isn't it?"

“Looks like. That means we're near the Guest areas,” Linda said. “But I don't see a darn thing."

“Let's get the hell away from here and back into the wild regions."

“But we need a stable aspect."

“I think it's boiling down to this—we're going to have to pick the least objectionable wild aspect we can find and make the best of it. I really think the castle is a lost cause."

Linda's face fell. “I suppose you're right."

“But before we do that, we have to make sure that this carnage
isn't
the work of the King and his Guardsmen."

“Do you think there's a chance?” Sheila asked.

“No. But we have to be absolutely positive before we exile ourselves again."

“We might be better off back in the jungle,” Linda said. “If it weren't for Snowy not being able to take the heat."

“Linda's right,” Snowclaw said. “Don't put yourselves in danger on my account. Go back to that place. With Sheila along, you'll be able to get back into the castle anytime you like. I'll stay here and scout around."

“I can't take the heat, either,” Gene said. “Sorry, Snowclaw, that's real noble of you, but I'm not going to leave you here alone."

“Remember,” Snowclaw said, “I have a stable aspect to slip into anytime I want."

Gene laughed. “I thought you said you couldn't make it back in the real world?"

“Well, maybe I did, and maybe I can't. But it's no big thing one way or the other. Actually I never really—"

Snowy was silenced by a horrible, blood-chilling yell that seemed to echo throughout the castle. They all stopped, stunned by the sound of it.

It took a few moments before any of them could speak. “My God,” Linda whispered, her face gone a bit gray. “Gene, what was it?"

“Uh ... I hope I never find out. This way."

Gene led them down a short hallway that made an L to the left.

After peeking around the corner, he beckoned to his companions, and they followed him up another short corridor, passing a stairwell.

The horrible yowl came again, and this time it seemed to boom from around the corner ahead. They hastily backtracked and took the stairwell, which led up. But more strange cries assailed their ears up on the next floor, so they climbed six more flights until the sounds diminished.

Linda gasped, “Think ... think we're safe?"

“I dunno,” Gene said, a little out of breath.

More bellowing came to their ears, but from a distance.

“Maybe,” Gene said. “Whatever that is, I do not want to meet up with it."

“You mean with them,” Sheila said. “It sounds like there are hundreds of them, all over."

“I don't want to think about that today,” Gene said airily. “After all, tomorrow is another day. I think.” He slapped himself on the face. “Shut up, you're babbling."

“I'm going nuts, too,” Linda said. “Gene, I'm scared. I want to get out of here."

“Righto! We'll take the first portal.” He looked around and gave a sardonic grunt. “Wouldn't you know, when you
need
one of the goddamn things, suddenly everything's normal. Like Sunday in the park."

Sheila began, “I think...” Then she trailed off.

They waited. Then Gene said, “What is it, Sheila?"

Sheila closed her eyes, holding her breath. She held it for a good fifteen seconds. Then she breathed out and opened her eyes, looking disappointed. “Thought I had it. For a second there, anyway."

“Keep working on it. I'm for heading that way, folks, but if anyone has a better idea, I believe in democracy and the principle of one man, one vote. Or one being, one vote."

Everyone accepted Gene's autocracy and followed him down the dim corridor. They crept along, wary of every shadow, Sheila hanging on to a tuft of Snowy's fur.

Gene saw something ahead and stopped, holding out a hand. A strange, hulking shadow lay across the floor, the thing it shadowed obviously standing just around the corner. The thing, whatever it was, stood motionless.

They flattened against the wall and froze. Sheila could hear her heart banging against her sternum like some wild frightened thing. She felt only numbness and an overwhelming sense that they would never get out of the castle alive. This was it; this was the end of her life. And she could not bring herself to be frightened.

Silence hung like a boulder precariously balanced. Then a rumbling murmur came from around the corner. It rose in pitch to become something far removed from a human voice yet somehow akin to it, eventually turning into an evil chuckling, a mocking laugh.

Then the form stepped out from behind the corner. The eyes of it were evil, and held them all. It raised its fiery sword.

Linda screamed. Gene's hand went to his sword but he had trouble pulling it free, as if his arm had suddenly turned to rubber.

Snowy charged past and engaged the thing. Metal clashed and sparks flew. Snowy exchanged a few strokes with it before the blade of his longsword snapped in two, singing its distress as it glanced off the wall and clattered to the floor. The demon swung viciously and Snowy jumped, doing two quick backward somersaults before rolling to his feet. A long diagonal line of singed fur ran across his chest, wisps of smoke rising from it.

“Run, everybody!” Snowy yelled.

They needed no coaxing. Sheila ran as fast as she had ever run in her life, even passing up Snowclaw. A demonic howl came at their backs and sped them on.

It took some time to realize that the demon had stopped chasing them, possibly because the answering cry of one of his comrades came from up ahead. Two huge wooden doors lay at the end of an alcove to the left, and they all ducked through into a huge room full of books. One of the doors had a hole in it, looking to have been battered in. Gene and Snowy slammed the doors shut, then began piling heavy wooden tables in front of them, laying the first on its side to block the hole in the door.

Soon the pile of tables and chairs mounted beyond the top of the doors. Snowy was about to throw the last of the oak tables on top of the pile when there was a flash and the pile flew to splinters amid a shower of sparks. The smoke cleared, revealing two demons with fiery swords standing just outside the doorway. They bellowed triumphantly and jumped forward.

A huge steel door materialized in front of them, sealing off the entrance.

“That ought to hold the bastards!” Linda screamed, then burst into tears.

Gene held her, watching the door, listening to the loud banging sounds that had begun, coming from the other side.

“They'll cut through that steel eventually,” he said.

“It's two feet thick,” Linda said, drying her eyes. “Oh, Gene, they're the evilest things in the world. Horrible, horrible—"

“They won't get us, Linda. I promise. I won't let them."

They all backed away from the door. Sheila clung to Snowclaw, wanting to lose herself in the forest of his warm fur. She noticed the smell of burnt hair and ran her hand across the burn along his chest.

“Snowy, you're hurt."

“Nah, just got singed a little."

More horrendous banging sounded, but the door seemed to be holding for the moment.

It hit Sheila suddenly. She couldn't put it into words if she tried for a year, but something had happened. She understood the magic of the castle. It was like noticing a huge feature of the landscape for the first time, something so big and obvious that you wondered why you hadn't noticed it before.

She let go of Snowclaw. “Gene! I have it figured out! I can summon the portal!"

Gene nodded understandingly. “Do so. Like, immediately."

“Uh ... oh. Yeah, sure!"

Sheila looked around. The library was huge. The main floor held rows and rows of open shelves stacked with books. There were more shelves spaced around the walls, interspersed with study nooks and carrels. Above were two stories of galleries, with more shelving and still more books. Other, smaller side rooms let off the main floor, and she crossed to one of these, stopping in front of the high pointed arch that formed its entrance. The arch would make a good frame for the edges of the portal.

Now all she had to do was summon the portal. Easy in principle, but now that she thought about it, her general knowledge of the castle's magic would have to be refined and adapted for this particular job. It would take some time.

A fearful crash sounded, and the steel doors shook.

Sheila turned back to her task. She would have to learn her new magic
real fast
.

 

 

 

Estate

 

As Incarnadine, Lord of the Western Pale, sprinted for the woods, he wondered which way of dying would be the quickest and least painful: being crushed to death under huge reptilian feet, being burned to char, or being eaten alive, torn apart in the maw of the gargantuan creature that was now chasing him. The question was academic, inasmuch as the creature would most likely combine all three methods. First tenderize the meat, parbroil it to taste, then gobble it down after a few brisk chews.

Flames from the creature licked at his back. Something crackled around his head, and he realized his hair was on fire. Slapping at his head, he willed a forfending shield to cover him and hoped it would be efficacious.

He dove into the woods and hid behind a stout oak, peering around its trunk. The monster was temporarily blocked by the trees. It roared out its disappointment over losing a quick meal, streams of thin red flame shooting from its nostrils. Then, extending its upper limbs, it took hold of two birch trees and pried them apart. The trees snapped like matchsticks and fell over. The monster began to bull its way into the woods, branches snapping as it moved.

Incarnadine examined the hand-held missile launcher that had materialized in his grasp. It was a long tube affair, set about with gadgets and gizmos. It was very heavy. He studied it for a moment. He was not familiar with its type, but the device did not look overcomplicated. Probably a Soviet design. He balanced the tube on his shoulder and put his eye to the aiming scope. He centered the beast's thorax in the cross hairs and waited for a clear shot. Finally getting one, he squeezed the trigger-grip.