Gog (Lost Civilizations: 4) (18 page)

Quarrels during a raid were madness. “Yes, of course,” said Keros. “But I don’t know if you’ve considered all the angles. Did you have a key to any of those doors?”

Bessus frowned. He pinched his lower lip.

“What about those skulls you told me about?” Keros asked. “You don’t have one. Don’t you need soul-manna to control such beasts?”

Bessus lifted the great sloth claw, as if that was the answer.

“I don’t understand how a claw can help you control such monsters,” Keros said.

“The essence of the great sloth is slow, deliberate thought,” explained Bessus. “Great sloths are calm beasts, not easily frightened. That essence I will pour into my beauties.”

“How can you do that?”

“That is the art of a beastmaster,” said Bessus, with a haughty smile. “Yet… what you say is true. I need the keys to the doors, and a skull in order to—we must find a beastmaster and kill him. Then I will be suitably armed.”

“Sound reasoning,” agreed Keros. “Might that be easier to do with more men?”

Bessus peered suspiciously at him. “You mean the Seraph, of course.”

“Do you know of anyone else down here that will help us against Gog’s minions?”

The suspicion became pronounced. “I’ll concede the point. But…” Bessus grew sly and secretive. “Yes, this way.”

With his long strides, Bessus ate up the distance. They came to several choices: tunnels going deeper, higher and to the sides. Each time the beastmaster halted and examined the choices through half-lidded eyes. Then he would nod, make his choice and off they went.

They entered a subterranean passage that was not lined by native stone, but red bricks mortared into place. Keros tried to imagine the laborious process that must have entailed. This entire warren boggled him. In its way, it was as mighty a construct as the vast Temple above. There were no puddles here. The floor had mosaic designs that had long ago been shuffled, smoothed and in sections, jostled out of place. It was like walking on gravel, the crunch and roll of it underfoot.

Bessus held up a hand, the one clutching his great sloth talisman. “Listen: voices. People approach.” He bent his head, concentrating. Then he looked up at Keros. His eyes were agleam, and he had a crocodile’s smile. “Hurry. This way.”

Bessus trotted over gravel. The voices grew louder. Keros was about to protest, when Bessus indicated a side passage.

Had the beastmaster known of this niche? Was his memory that good?

Bessus took a torch from the wall and led the way. There were no torches in this side passage. Bessus thrust ahead with the torch, burning old spider-webs.

Keros crunched over brittle bones, tiny bones of bats or mice perhaps. Dark bloated spiders crawled into crevices. Keros’s skin crawled. His belly tightened. He pulled away from the wall. Why did no one use this old corridor?

 Voices of men interrupted his musing. Keros strained to make out what they said.

“They bring pets,” whispered Bessus, “guard beasts.”

“How can you tell?” whispered Keros.

Bessus smirked in the torchlight. He thrust the wooden torch at Keros, who gingerly accepted it. From an inner pocket, the beastmaster withdrew the small copper tube. He pried away wax from each end, and then carefully balanced it, while holding the middle of the thin copper.

Keros eyed it with distaste. What did it do that Bessus placed such high value upon it? From down the corridor, echoing toward them, armor rattled and boots crunched over the loose mosaic. Men spoke among themselves:

“…Zepho hated women.”

“You’re certain of that? It wasn’t just a ploy?”

“Ah, Adoni-Zedek, my old friend,” Bessus whispered.

“Yes. I’m certain, noble one. It wasn’t a ploy: Zepho permitted no woman to touch him. He claimed that even breathing the same air from the same room as a female tainted him.”

“What do you say to that, girl?”

“Girl?” whispered Keros.

Bessus clutched his shoulder. The beastmaster’s lips were an inch from his ear. Keros heard him moisten his mouth.

“As you value your life, do exactly as I say,” whispered Bessus. “Until I say otherwise, you must not step in front of me.” Bessus thereupon slid along the wall, edging toward the opening.

The one Bessus had named as Adoni-Zedek spoke again: “It’s as I thought. You have nothing to say. A pity.”

Silent as a shadow, Keros drew his blade and followed Bessus. The sounds from ahead spoke of a party, at least three or four minions of Gog. Keros marveled at the beastmaster’s calm.
His
arm twitched with pre-battle jitters. That coil in his gut, fear of injury, of the unknown, made a bitter taste in his mouth. There were more than four! The odds were getting longer. Keros set his teeth. He vowed to give a good account of himself, to slay as many of these wicked priests as possible. He peered into the main corridor. Their tunnel was not a ninety-degree turn, but more a forty-five degree shaft.

Cuirass-armored priest stepped out of shadows. Two men held bronze swords. Flickering light played upon the curved lengths. The next in line held a spear.
Tamar
! Tamar marched next with her hands tied behind her back. The stinkpot was still slung on her back. A tall, evil-looking priest, in silken red robes followed. A bare skull held by a silver chain bumped upon his chest. The eye-sockets of the skull winked with gems. Behind the priest, padded evil animals, hyenas, whining carrion beasts, whose eerie eyes threw back the torchlight. They were only a little smaller than lions. These were cave hyenas twisted by Gog’s spells. Handlers held the leashes.

Bessus horrified Keros. The thin beastmaster strode out of hiding. He walked arrogantly, with assurance and blocked the passage. He was mad. “Adoni-Zedek,” said Bessus.

Keros was numbed by the move. It was the last thing he had expected. Where had Bessus gained this courage? Or, did the beastmaster hope to commit some bizarre Magog-derived suicide? What exactly was black lotus?

Carefully, Keros set the torch on the floor. Like a hidden lion, he readied himself to spring. He began assessing the enemy, and he decided whom he would kill first.

“I promised you I would return,” Bessus gloated, as he perched one gloved fist on his hip and spread his feet.

The armed men glanced at Adoni-Zedek. They seemed more bemused than alarmed.

“Who are you?” The lean priest scowled. “What nonsense is this?”

“Has it really been that long so that you’ve forgotten my promise?” asked Bessus.

What was Bessus doing? Keros wanted to roar with frustration.

“Come, step closer,” suggested Adoni-Zedek. “Why hide in shadows?”

“No, my pupil, I want you to join me.”

“Bessus?” The remote face showed surprise. Adoni-Zedek leaned forward and inspected the man before him. “Is that really you? It cannot be. No one is that great of a fool.”

The waiting beastmaster chuckled.

“Oh, Bessus, it
is
you. You’ve made a dreadful mistake.”

“Not I,” said Bessus.

Tamar had her head down. She now raised it. She looked dazed, exhausted, terrified. Her eyes widened. She frowned and glanced around. “Where’s Keros?” she asked.

Adoni-Zedek glanced at her and then, he took in the old tunnel. His eyes narrowed, and he stepped back among the hyenas, and stroked the skull hanging from his throat.

The beasts broke into weird yips and barks as they clawed the old mosaic in their zeal to reach Bessus. The handlers were dragged forward. They let go of the leashes and drew long, curved knives. It caught Keros by surprise. He did nothing for that half-moment. Bessus, however, whipped the copper tube to his mouth and blew powerfully. A long jet of yellowish powder shot from the other end of the tube. It billowed into a thick, greenish-yellow cloud.

Bessus immediately backpedaled. He pushed an emerging Keros. The beastmaster dragged Keros deeper into the old tunnel. “Now Adoni-Zedek breathes his last,” whispered Bessus.

From the main corner bodies thumped heavily to the floor.

“Tamar!” cried Keros.

Bessus held him. “No. To enter the cloud is death. You must wait until it settles.”

Shrugging off the beastmaster’s hold, Keros took a deep breath and ran back to the opening. The cloud was thick, and it didn’t seem to be in any hurry to settle. Lifeless hyenas lay on the floor beside dead swordsmen, spearman and handlers. They looked as if they slept. He didn’t see Tamar, or the tall priest with the skull. He rolled back to Bessus.

“Adoni-Zedek has escaped.”

It was Bessus’s turn to check. “I’ve been cheated.”

“You madman, you almost killed Tamar.”

“My old pupil must be injured,” said Bessus, becoming thoughtful. “It’s impossible some of the powder didn’t touch his skin. He’ll be sluggish, drugged into stupor. We must find him.”

“You’ve blocked the way,” said Keros. He restrained the impulse to gut Bessus with his knife. The fool had almost murdered Tamar with his powder.

Bessus closed his eyes. He turned pale, and spittle dribbled out the corner of his mouth. When he opened his eyes, he said, “Not true. I know of another path.”

***

“Who is this Keros?” snarled Adoni-Zedek. “What is he to Bessus?”

Tamar kept blinking, trying to think. Her head ached. Her body moved sluggishly. Except for Adoni-Zedek snatching her from that strange cloud, she would have breathed whatever had dropped the others. They had collapsed, simply sank to the floor. It had been horrible, a spell of bewildering power.

Adoni-Zedek touched his jeweled skull. The gems winked with nefarious light.

Tamar flinched from it, as if someone had poured hot water over her arms.

“Let me ask you again. Who is Keros?”

“A friend,” she gasped.

There was more pain: like splinters under her fingernails.

“I wish to know exactly,” the priest said. “The time for games, for subterfuge, has ended.”

Tamar resisted. She sealed her lips. The pain became unbearable, excruciating. She cried out, but still said nothing. Then, the pain hit her like a boulder. She dropped onto her hands and knees and then writhed upon the floor, finally sobbing, “Elohim! Elohim healed him.”

Those long fingers laid hold of her. The fingernails slashed her skin. They were razor sharp. Adoni-Zedek yanked her to her feet, and slapped her face twice. It twisted her head each time, and left red imprints on her cheeks. “Never speak his name again,” said Adoni-Zedek. “That is forbidden here.”

Tamar blinked back tears.

“Now, we will begin anew. Why are Keros and Bessus in the dungeons?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered.

“You’re a poor liar. But it matters not. Surely, they are here to free the Seraph.” Adoni-Zedek stroked his chin. “I am on duty this night. It behooves me that Gog never interrogates Bessus. Yes. I am on watch, and if I put down this healed one....” An evil smile stretched his crack of a mouth. The priest pushed Tamar up the corridor.

***

Keros and Bessus came upon a priest carrying a bucket of filth. Keros shouted the Shurite war cry, and fell upon the startled priest. The time for secrecy was over. It was now a death-fight. He kept the slain man’s knife and took the keys. Then they raced deeper into the dungeon, slaying any they came upon, adding knives and spears to a growing collection.

Chapter Nineteen

Beastmaster

“The fool welcomes the strong man in at night, saying, ‘Sit in my house while I sleep. Watch over my goods while I slumber.’”

-- Naram the Prophet

In a daze, a drugged stupor, Tamar stumbled through damp corridors deep under the Earth. She shuddered. A roar echoed through the dim tunnels. The sound was bestial and demented. The band of quickly summoned priests, led by Adoni-Zedek, strode toward those animal noises. They propelled her, pushing, prodding and letting her crash against the walls. She sneezed. Harsh animal odors drifted near. She tried to wipe her nose against her shoulder. Those roars vibrated through the air. Around her, priests glanced fearfully at one another.

“It is as a beastmaster that I shall destroy Bessus,” said Adoni-Zedek, perhaps speaking to their fears.

A stocky priest spoke up. “If they should free the pirates from the Catacombs, and free Lod, it might go ill for us, noble one. The pirates haven’t been starved long enough to make them weak, only utterly desperate.”

The others shifted uneasily. The pirates of the Captain’s Fleet, those who had rebelled against Gog, had once been the terror of the Suttung Sea. Despite Gog’s Defenders, Enforcers and mercenaries from Giant Land, the fight in the swamp had been close. And the one named Lod, a Seraph, for years he had been the bane of those who served the First Born.

“That is why we unleash the beasts,” said Adoni-Zedek.

A priest shoved Tamar so that she stumbled through a slimy puddle. Muck stuck to her foot. It reminded her of the canals and the loathsome rats. The dreadful roars coming up the corridor brought an entirely different horror.

“Not even Lod can face my monster,” said Adoni-Zedek.

The priests grew hesitant as they neared the Chamber of Beasts. The air was thick with animal stenches, and the tunnels were lined with heavy iron doors. From within one barred den, a monster scraped his claws against iron, making a dreadful screech.

Adoni-Zedek handed a silver key to the stocky priest.

The priest paled, biting his lip. “That door, noble one?” he whispered, pointing with his chin.

Adoni-Zedek held up a slender hand. “First, I must meditate.”

Momentarily forgotten by the priests, Tamar panted against a rock-wall. She was hunched over, with her wrists hidden from view. She moved and jerked her numbed hands back and forth, trying to gain play. She glanced sidelong at Adoni-Zedek. The tall priest looked glazed as he pressed his fingers against the skull that dangled from his throat. The gemmed-sockets glowed, and a mist, an almost unseen vapor, began to seep out of the gems. The mist drifted through the door’s grille and billowed into the beast’s chamber. The agonized roar from within the den was awful.

“Yes…” crooned Adoni-Zedek.

The beast, the monstrous cave bear, enlarged in some nefarious manner over a span of unknown years, bawled hatred, rage, a scream elemental. The very Earth seemed to tremble.

The priests shrank from the noise. Tamar wilted, and for a moment, she forgot to work her bonds.

“Unlock the door,” whispered Adoni-Zedek.

The stocky priest turned terrified eyes upon Adoni-Zedek. Then he stared at the key in his hands. For a moment, it seemed he might hurl it away. As if doomed, he stepped toward the iron door. Behind it paced the monster. An eye peered through the grille widow every several seconds. The breathing was heavy and snot-bubbly. It shuffled, snorted, and peered again out the small window. With a trembling arm, the priest inserted the key. He turned vast locks, and—the door exploded open and struck the priest. He was flung backward. With a sickening
crack
, his head snapped back against rock.

The monster squeezed through the opening. It was an amazing sight. The beast was shaggy, with glaring evil eyes. Its bulk was unbelievable, and its animal smell was overpowering.

Tamar made whimpering noises as she struggled within her bonds.

The cave bear, the outrageously huge monster, was built on the size of Gog. It was gargantuan, titanic, more than a match for any Nephilim or Seraph. It almost filled the tunnel.

“Beast!” cried Adoni-Zedek.

Wicked eyes centered on the priest in his silken robes. Compared to the monster, Adoni-Zedek seemed but a child. The monster opened its jaws. A fetid, meaty odor washed through the corridor. Drool dripped from its fangs.

Adoni-Zedek lifted the skull. The gems glowed.

The monster, the beast, the enlarged cave bear, closed its jaws with a click. It seemed baffled. Like a dog, it lay down on paws that could have covered Adoni-Zedek. Like a whipped and beaten cur, the beast peered at its puny master.

“Yes, you must obey me, beast.”

Tamar slipped free a wrist. She didn’t think. She was too terrified. Her numb shoulders hurt. Her swollen fingers could barely twitch. That was nothing as compared to the monster before her. She clenched her teeth, and willed the stinkpot off her back. With two stiff hands, practically frozen into immobility, she lofted the clay jug high. She lofted it, and hurled the jar at Adoni-Zedek’s feet. The clay shattered, and the awful, gut-twisting stench, the horrible, vomit-exploding stink struck the gloating priest like a physical blow. Adoni-Zedek reeled backward, shouting in loathing. He retched. The gems in the skull winked out.

The monster, with its head on the floor, wrinkled its vast nose. The beast rose with a horrified roar, a bawl of insanity. It screamed with ear-shattering volume. It scrambled so fast that its claws and paws slipped on the stony corridor. The beast slipped, slid and bawled, as tears flowed and snot shot from its nose. Blindly, the monster charged into Adoni-Zedek, brushing the priest against the wall, crushing him, mangling him and smearing stink in its fur. That caused the beast to scream in the worst noise of all, a scratchy, thunderous howl.

The priests around it retched, coughed and shouted in sick disgust. Then the shaggy monster was among them. The beast, the cave bear enlarged over the years by Gog’s children, crashed into and swiped its paws upon the priests. The beast slaughtered them in its rush, biting, clawing and trampling. Then the beast rushed out of their bloody midst, desperate to get away from that soul-sickening stink.

***

Black beads of moisture slithered down the walls. Here, the ceiling hung low. Bessus bent his head and Keros hunched his shoulders. The stone ceiling bore the weight of the crushing Earth. Keros swore he could feel it. It tightened his chest and made breathing a chore.

Bessus’s eyes seemed to glow. “There is a beast ahead, and a guard, a watch-priest.”

The beastmaster’s uncanny guesses had proved right too often. How did Bessus know these things?

Keros motioned the beastmaster back. Then Keros deposited his extra knives and a spear on the floor. He crept ahead, slipped around a corner and sure enough, spied a hyena and priest. The carrion beast whined, sniffing at holes bored into the earth-like shelves, niches. Boulders plugged them. From them, came muted cries.

A thrill of horror electrified Keros. Men were behind those boulders. They had reached the Catacombs. Here is where Gog had put the pirates and Lod. What a wretched death to linger in tombs deep underground, shoved living into your grave. Keros shuddered, and the hopelessness of their fate set his teeth on edge. At least as a leper, he had seen the sun and listened to birds sing. These men—

Fury propelled Keros’s feet. He rushed the priest. He shouted. The hyena leaped out of the way. The priest spun in horror, or he tried to. Keros’s knife struck. With a groan, the minion of Gog crumpled to the floor. The hyena fled, whimpering, deeper into the dungeon.

Keros panted. He wiped his blade on the corpse’s garment. As he gazed upon the Catacombs, his horror mounted. What if behind each boulder was a dead man? What if he was too late?

Keros sprang at a boulder and heaved against it. It didn’t budge. It might take four or five strong men to move. He stepped back and chewed his lip. Might he lever out the boulder?

Bessus hurried near. “You let the beast escape.”

Keros gave a bitter snort.

“It will lurk in the dark,” said Bessus, “waiting for a chance of revenge.” He muttered incoherently, finally saying, “We must leave, lest Adoni-Zedek finds us here.”

Keros struck his knife-pommel against the boulder-plug and spoke against a crack, one between plug and hole. “Can you hear me?”

“Yes! Let me out. Oh, please release me.”

“Help me,” Keros told Bessus. “We must try and move this.”

The beastmaster shook his head. “They were fools to challenge Gog. Fools deserve a fool’s death.”

Keros forced a laugh. “You state it well, Bessus. But we could still use some of these fools to help us slay Adoni-Zedek. Your old enemy is surely gathering an army of priests in order to capture you alive and vent his spleen upon you. Surely, you cannot be choosy in your allies.”

The beastmaster grew pensive. “We two cannot remove the boulder.”

“As long as we’re here, we might as well try. We need the pirates in order to win ourselves a skull, so you can control the beasts.”

It seemed as if the beastmaster would retort. Then Bessus strode to the boulder and put his thin shoulder against it. Keros shouted at the pirate trapped in the hole. Then he and Bessus strained. He pushed, until it felt as if his muscles must snap. Keros stepped back. Four or five strong men, and he had the beastmaster. Could he force captured priests to help him draw out the stone? Keros tapped his chin. Then he recalled the Seraph’s muscles.

“Lod!” he shouted. Keros ran from stone to stone. He struck the knife pommel against each. “Lod, can you hear me?”

Trapped pirates shouted and begged for release. The muted chorus had a chilling effect.

Keros grew desperate. “Lod!” he shouted.

“Here,” came a faint reply.

“Bessus,” shouted Keros.

The beastmaster strode near, blinking, pinching his lower lip.

“Lod, listen to me,” said Keros. “I’m the man you healed today.”

“Praise Elohim, I knew you would come.”

“Lod, there’s only two of us. We aren’t strong enough to pull out the stone. You must help us.”

“Yes!” shouted Lod, his voice was muted and faraway sounding.

Keros threw his shoulder against granite. He grunted and screamed at Bessus. Bessus snarled and strove likewise. The stone moved! It slid an inch, grating, rubbing. Keros heaved. Sweat poured off him. The stone slid again.

“Elohim!” roared Lod. His voice was loud, because now there was space between the boulder and the hole.

Keros and Bessus heaved once more. The stone slid out farther, with a millstone’s grind. Chains clinked from within the hole. Lod roared and shoved. The stone moved once more.

“Look out!” shouted Keros. He leaped backward.

Bessus was slower, but he stumbled aside as the huge stone crashed to the floor and rolled.

Keros scrambled over it and helped Lod out of the coffin-sized prison. Chains rattled, and Lod’s sores and burns bled. His beard was ragged. His eyes, however, blazed.

“Well done, lad,” said the over-muscled warrior. He lifted oaken arms, clattering his fetters. “Can you unlock these?”

Keros tried the ring of keys, useless. He produced a lock-pick stolen from Yeb. One-Eye had explained the art, saying a raid chieftain must at times be a thief. With the light from Bessus’s torch, Keros peered into the keyhole, and wriggled the pick. As he worked, Lod chanted with a grim voice, his eyes burning with zeal.

Snick
went the lock. Lod shook his wrist and the manacle fell off. Keros shifted to the next one. He worked with speed now that he knew what to do.

Soon, Lod kicked off the last fetter. He slapped Keros on the back. “Now, lad, let’s free the others. Let’s free them, and see what desperate men can do.”