The Trials of Lance Eliot (31 page)

LANCE ELIOT LOSES AN ENEMY AND GAINS A FRIEND

KANA AND JIAN DISAPPEARED after breakfast, presumably to make preparations for our journey to Akrabbim. Regis departed for the Palace to begin his duties as regent, and the other members of the Resistance slipped out to resume their work. I was left alone with Maia and Atticus.

Maia and I decided to go for a long walk in the rain. As in the old days, we concluded with pastries and cups of chocolate at a bakery. The rain had ceased by the time we left. Puddles—
lakes
would be a better word—of rainwater had spread across the pavement, and our shoes were utterly soaked.

We walked to the house where Maia had taken up residence. After paying my respects to her parents and wishing her a good afternoon, I returned to the orphanage to find Atticus in the kitchen. “Would you like to help me with supper?” he asked.

Having nothing else to do, and disliking the thought of spending the evening alone in the gloom of the garret, I agreed.

“That was quite an announcement you made this morning,” he said as we peeled potatoes.

“Don't remind me. I'm trying not to think about it.”

“Then don't mind my telling you that I'm proud of you, Lance. You're becoming quite a hero.”

“I wanted to be a hero when I grew up,” I said, absently stabbing a potato. “When I was a boy, I loved stories about heroes. That's why I
became a literary critic.”

“I'm afraid I don't see the connection.”

“There isn't one. That's the problem. Literary criticism isn't nearly as interesting as I had hoped. If by some miracle I survive my trip to Akrabbim, I don't know what I'll do when I go back to Terra. After all this, I hardly want to spend the rest of my life scrutinizing literature through the absurd lenses of Marxism and Freudianism. I certainly don't want to face the Skeleton.”

“Whom?”

“He's an awful professor of mine. His name is Peter M. Williamson, but we call him the Skeleton because he looks like one. I've killed a dragon, you know, and it wasn't nearly as frightening as that old blighter.”

Atticus laughed.

“Stop laughing,” I snapped. “You wouldn't think he was funny if you met him.”

“Pardon me. I didn't mean to be unkind. If you don't like the Skeleton, you should find another teacher. And if you don't like his methods of criticism, you should invent your own.”

Atticus tried to repress another laugh, and failed. I gave my potato a final vicious stab and threw it into the pot.

I departed from Valdelaus two days later. I had hardly seen Kana, Regis or any of my other friends. They were all busy. It was rather discouraging to be left alone when so close to death. I had no doubt that my journey to Akrabbim would end in death, one way or another. I didn't like the thought, but my fear of death had evaporated. Perhaps soldiers on the front feel the same way. I was certain my life would be shortly taken from me, yet I had a job to do and by Jove, I was going to do it.

The morning of our departure dawned fair and clear. After breakfast, Atticus and the children walked with me to the South Gate. Regis and Maia were waiting for us. It took me a moment to recognize Regis, who was dressed richly in blue and silver.

“I can't stand these clothes,” he confided. “Kana insisted I honor the regency by looking the part. I feel like a doorman.”

Kana and Jian arrived soon afterward, followed by eight hunds and five legionaries.

“We cannot delay,” said Kana. “A moment for goodbyes, and then we must go.”

“Well, old boy,” said Regis, putting out his hand, “I hope everything goes well.” He added in an undertone, “Keep an eye on Kana, will you? He's too old for this sort of thing. Be careful.”

“I hope your regency is a splendid success,” I said, taking his hand. “If you're half as good at politics as you are at cards, you'll do fine.”

Maia hugged me and said, “I know you don't think much of El, but I pray he goes with you anyway.”

“I appreciate the sentiment,” I told her. “Take care.”

“We're counting on you,” said Atticus. “For what it's worth, I think you're a hero whether or not you succeed.”

I mounted my hund and followed Kana out of the gate.

We rode for days. It was comforting to have so many companions, yet I was gloomy. Knowing what horrors lay before me, I felt sicker every day. More than once, I struggled with an overpowering urge to get up during the night and return to Valdelaus.

I came to know the five legionaries pretty well. Their names were Cid, Gregory, Dirk, Saif and Jehu. They weren't bad chaps, but they were terribly stiff and professional. It seemed they were always busy with something: scouting ahead, sharpening their blades, polishing their armor or finding some other excuse not to be friendly.

Jian looked as wretched as I felt. An empty look had come into his eyes. It was reminiscent of Tsurugi, and I felt a stab of pity every time I looked at him. He sometimes withdrew into his tent before supper and didn't come out until morning.

Kana was the anchor that kept us from drifting apart. He was constantly offering encouragement, giving good advice and taking more than his share of work. When I asked him about Jian's melancholy, he would only say, “He grieves Tsurugi's death. They were once close.”

The grass faded as we drew near the Darkness. We awoke one morning to dead silence. The birds had stopped singing. On the horizon stood the mountains, now solid black. The Darkness sprawled across the land before us, a vast obscenity, choking the life out of everything it touched.

We came to its border. One of the legionaries (Jehu, I think) tugged on the reins of his hund, but it refused to be led forward. In the end, it bit him and ran off.

“We'll have to go on foot,” I said. “Tsurugi and I couldn't get our hunds to enter the Darkness either. The hunds are obviously a good deal more sensible than we are.”

My companions slipped one by one into the gloom. I hesitated, teetering on the brink between light and dark, and then plunged in after them. It was just as awful as I remembered. We moved in a tight queue to stay together, weapons drawn. I carried a staff, hoping I wouldn't have to use it.

The laughter soon began. The legionaries were disturbed. As the other noises came crashing in on us, they began to show signs of panic.

“You will see visions,” I warned them. “They are just illusions. Don't pay attention to them. If you see water, don't touch it. If you see pale shapes in the darkness, slash them. If you see scorpions—”

“I think they understand,” said Kana.

We crossed plains as dead and empty as a desert. Every night we huddled in our tents, weapons close at hand, two men on the lookout. Well,
lookout
may not be the best word. The darkness was complete at night. We couldn't look out for anything. We could only listen for the dratted, dratted sound of footsteps.

It was difficult to find our way in the dark. There were times I worried we had missed Akrabbim and were marching blindly into the depths of the Darkness. I even began to wonder whether the Darkness had any end.

As a child, I had pictured hell as a place of fire. After reading Dante, I had imagined hell as a place of ice. During those dreadful days, and especially during those dreadful nights, I envisioned hell as a place of endless dark.

Kana found our way with a map and a sailor's compass. One day we marched through a field of ashes. A choking stench burdened the air.

“What is that stink?” groaned Dirk.

“It is the dragon, or what decay has left of it,” said Kana.

We came upon Akrabbim so suddenly that I almost fell into it. Peering over the edge, I saw absolute blackness. “We must be on our guard,” whispered Kana. “Now, if ever, we will have trouble.”

We made our way along the edge of the rift and found the road down. There was some hesitance to proceed. Even Kana didn't show any enthusiasm at the thought of descending into the blackness. I couldn't shake the impression that the road dropped into a bog filled with black mud, and that the one who set foot in it would sink and never find bottom.

Jian took a resolute step forward and began walking down the road. The rest of us followed, cringing at the noise of laughter that echoed from the walls of the gorge. It was a slow descent. One false step could lead to a broken neck. Dusk fell. By the time we reached the bottom of the gorge, it was impossible to see anything.

“We need to get away from the road,” murmured Kana. “If we can find a nook in the wall, we can hide and await morning.”

I didn't like the idea of camping on the Necromancer's doorstep. However, I liked the idea of entering his labyrinth at night even less. Gripping our weapons, we crept along the side of the gorge. I couldn't stop trembling. Have you ever had one of those nightmares in which you're being chased by something and are too afraid to see what? It was exactly like those nightmares.

There came a sudden rush of echoing footsteps. I heard shouts of surprise, and then silence. Something took hold of my arms. Two clammy hands felt their way around my throat and squeezed. I gasped and wheezed, unable to see, and finally lost consciousness, slipping out of darkness into darkness.

I awoke on a cold stone floor, sickened by a hideous feeling of déjà vu. This was exactly what had happened before. I knew what would happen next. The door would clang open and a puppet of Maldos would enter. It was only a matter of time; I was sure of it. Consumed with dread at the memory of the Cradle of Pain, I huddled in a corner and awaited the inevitable.

It didn't take long. The door opened. A silhouette slipped in and gestured with a limp hand. There was only one thing I hadn't expected. The Necromancer's puppet was the body of Tsurugi.

I can't describe my horror and revulsion. My friend's body, which deserved to be laid to rest in honor, had been defiled. It was a cruel trick of Maldos, probably intended to weaken my resolve. Ironically, it had precisely the opposite effect. It made me too angry to be afraid any longer.

I stood and walked out without looking at the body. As before, I was directed by the silent forms of the Necromancer's puppets. Again I heard the sound of footsteps behind me, but I didn't run. I knew Maldos needed me alive. What was the point of running?

I entered the triangular room and found Maldos sitting like a waxwork upon its throne. My companions, all seven of them, stood before it.

“I expected you sooner,” it said as I came up beside the others. “We've been waiting for you.”

“Here I am,” I said. “Drat you, here I am! What do you want?”

“I think you know.”

“I know what you want from me. What do you want from the others?”

“I'm not a very demanding host, Lance. I ask your companions for only one thing.”

“What?”

“Amusement. I invite them to attack me.”

“Don't do it!” I cried, but Saif had already grasped the hilt of his katana and rushed forward. Maldos made a sharp movement with its hand. There was a crack and a shriek of pain, and Saif fell to the ground with his arms broken.

“What fun,” said Maldos as Saif lay whimpering upon the cold stone. “Thank you for obliging me. Would the next man step forward?”

Kana slipped a hand into his pocket. I squeezed his arm and hissed, “Don't try anything.” He withdrew his hand, and I relaxed. That was a mistake. The moment I let go of his arm, he threw something.

“A fine attempt,” said the Necromancer, clapping its hands. A shuriken hung in the air before its throne. “I admire your bravery. Now I'm very interested to see if you catch as well as you throw.”

Maldos motioned with its hand. There was a flash as the shuriken sped across the room, and Kana slumped to the ground beside me with a gasp.

I gripped my staff until my hand hurt, thinking desperately. I could almost hear Tsurugi telling me, “Don't give up.
Don't give up.
”

Then, in one blinding instant, I remembered something.

“Don't move,” I said. “Men, for God's sake, don't move
.
Be patient, and wait.”

“You're delaying the inevitable, Lance,” said Maldos. “Whether or not you choose to amuse me by resisting, you will all die in the end. You are my guests, however, so I'm willing to concede final requests. I've waited this long. I can wait a little longer. Take your time. Be still and wait patiently. Let us see who is the first to tire of waiting.”

Time seemed to have frozen. Jian crouched next to Kana and put a hand on him. The legionaries muttered prayers or swore under their breath. I stood, blinking back tears, clenching my teeth, watching the Necromancer. It sat with that ghastly smile, watching me.

Then a convulsion shook its body, and it spoke in that odd, inexplicably changed voice.

“You are parasites, vermin to be eradicated, crawling over the face of this planet and persisting in your pointless survival. You do not deserve to exist.”