As I recited the incantation, I could feel it watching me. Was it watching? Could it still think, feel, a full consciousness trapped within—
Goddamn it, stop that! He's a rucking psychopath. Otherwise he wouldn't have been down here. I'd do the same to the rest if I could. But it wasn't him I was worried about; it was the thought of him, what it could portend for me. When the Fates said I was in danger, I sure as hell never thought—
Don't think. Turn it off and pay attention.
The noise was close enough now for me to hear something else accentuating the thumps and drags—a low, wordless mumble. A shape passed the doorway. With only the sliver of distant light from around the boulder to illuminate the passage, I saw little more than a shape, but I could tell it was human, a squat lump of a man, one leg dragging as he shuffled along.
He was midway past the room door when he stopped, head whipping around so fast I nearly jumped and broke my cover spell. His face hovered there, a thin pale streak in the darkness. He snuffled, as if sniffing the air. After a low mumble of unintelligible gibberish, he crouched and peered at the ground. He traced his fingers in the dirt, then chortled and clumped forward, still squatting as he followed something in the dirt. Followed my footprints.
I held myself still, but my thoughts whirred. Would my binding spell work yet? Could I outrun him? And run where? I'd locked myself in. Wait, there had to be another exit, the one he'd come through. The moment I thought this, I knew he hadn't come through anywhere. If he could see my footprints in the dirt, in this darkness, that could only mean that his eyesight had adapted to this near-blackness. And that meant he'd been here a helluva lot longer than a few minutes.
The men in the village hadn't ripped their fellow inmate apart. He had—this man—this creature lumbering toward me, mumbling in a language that had long since sunk below any standard of human communication. He'd ripped his victim limb from limb and they'd locked them both in here. And now I'd locked myself in with them.
Goddamn it, don't just stand here and wait for him to bump into you! Cast something. Launch the damn fireball spell. No, better yet, the gouging spell, explode his eyes from their sockets, see how well he can track you without them. Blind him, then get that tree limb and beat the living shit—
Stop that! Stop and think. I hadn't recovered enough for a foolproof binding spell yet. Cast anything stronger and I'd end up in pieces on the floor, still alive, trapped in—
Stop that!
I could smell him now, a sickly sweet smell like rotting meat. Where was that smell coming from? His breath? Did he eat—?
I gritted my teeth and fought to shut my brain down, to concentrate on the moment. He kept shambling forward, still crouched, pale fingers glowing as they traced my steps in the dirt.
I'd have to risk the binding spell. It should hold for at least a few seconds, long enough for me to get past him and run like hell farther into the cave. With that bad leg, he couldn't catch me.
He stopped. After a moment's hesitation, he veered to the right, following my original tracks into the room. He scuttled to the arm where I'd first paused. At a noise across the room he leapt to his feet. He looked around, head low, sniffing the air. Another noise—the click of teeth. With a roar, he lunged forward and kicked the head into the wall. It hit with a splat, but rolled back again, spine still jumping.
He kicked it again, still bellowing, frustrated by his inability to end its life.
After a few more kicks, rage sated, he looked around the room, then strode out. He'd forgotten me.
Thank—
Grunts drifted from the main passage, near the entrance, as he tried to move the boulder. He hadn't forgotten me, he'd just changed tack and gone to see how I'd gotten in… and whether he could get out.
How long had he been in this cave? How long had this other thing—this head—I couldn't think of it as a man, that just started my brain spinning—how long had it been here? Like that?
This was the true hell of this dimension. Not the thing on the cave floor, but the never-ending possibility of it. Trapped for eternity in a world of other killers, any of whom could, at any moment, do this to you. All you can do is trust that they won't, trust that if you don't touch them, they won't touch you, rely on honor and decency from men who have none. And when they do exactly what you fear they'll do, you band together and lock them up with their victim, barricade them in and leave them there, alone… until some goddamn idiot walks up, goes, "Hmmm, what's this boulder doing here?" moves it, and barricades herself inside with them.
I squeezed my eyes closed and chased the thoughts away. Panic. So that's what it felt like.
After a few shoves on the boulder, the man gave a snarl that resounded through the cavern. Those dragging footsteps resumed and, seconds later, he appeared at the room entrance. He stepped inside and peered around, head low, snuffling and muttering. Then he wheeled and strode out the door, heading for the tunnel depths. Thank God. Now I could—Wait. Shit! When he'd turned, there'd been something in his hand. It was still too dark for me to see more than shapes, but I knew he hadn't been carrying anything earlier, and the only long, narrow object he could have picked up on his way to the entrance was the tree limb I'd left there—the one I needed to get out of this place.
Slow down. Take it slow and think. There has to be something else here you can use. As I looked around the room, my gaze slid over the four limbs. Arm bones would be too short. A leg bone might work, but first I'd have to get the flesh off of it. I knew a spell for flaying, but it only removed the skin layer and wouldn't do anything for the tissue beneath.
If only I still had Dachev's knife. I should have gone back for it. Carelessness. Pure carelessness. I was too accustomed to relying on spells.
I crept over to the nearest leg and bent down, running through my list of witch spells. Behind me, the thing on the floor chattered and made a strangled hissing sound, as if sensing what I was considering. I ignored it. Wasn't like he was going to need this anymore, and if I could use it, that's all that mattered.
After another moment's consideration, I shook my head and straightened. There was no easy way to deflesh the bone. Either I tried to move the stone without a pry bar or I went deeper into the cave in search of another tool. As the chattering continued behind me, I quickly rejected option two. No way in hell I was going anyplace that might bring me into contact with the creature who'd done this. I wasn't that brave… or that stupid.
Goddamn it, stop that! He's a rucking psychopath. Otherwise he wouldn't have been down here. I'd do the same to the rest if I could. But it wasn't him I was worried about; it was the thought of him, what it could portend for me. When the Fates said I was in danger, I sure as hell never thought—
Don't think. Turn it off and pay attention.
The noise was close enough now for me to hear something else accentuating the thumps and drags—a low, wordless mumble. A shape passed the doorway. With only the sliver of distant light from around the boulder to illuminate the passage, I saw little more than a shape, but I could tell it was human, a squat lump of a man, one leg dragging as he shuffled along.
He was midway past the room door when he stopped, head whipping around so fast I nearly jumped and broke my cover spell. His face hovered there, a thin pale streak in the darkness. He snuffled, as if sniffing the air. After a low mumble of unintelligible gibberish, he crouched and peered at the ground. He traced his fingers in the dirt, then chortled and clumped forward, still squatting as he followed something in the dirt. Followed my footprints.
I held myself still, but my thoughts whirred. Would my binding spell work yet? Could I outrun him? And run where? I'd locked myself in. Wait, there had to be another exit, the one he'd come through. The moment I thought this, I knew he hadn't come through anywhere. If he could see my footprints in the dirt, in this darkness, that could only mean that his eyesight had adapted to this near-blackness. And that meant he'd been here a helluva lot longer than a few minutes.
The men in the village hadn't ripped their fellow inmate apart. He had—this man—this creature lumbering toward me, mumbling in a language that had long since sunk below any standard of human communication. He'd ripped his victim limb from limb and they'd locked them both in here. And now I'd locked myself in with them.
Goddamn it, don't just stand here and wait for him to bump into you! Cast something. Launch the damn fireball spell. No, better yet, the gouging spell, explode his eyes from their sockets, see how well he can track you without them. Blind him, then get that tree limb and beat the living shit—
Stop that! Stop and think. I hadn't recovered enough for a foolproof binding spell yet. Cast anything stronger and I'd end up in pieces on the floor, still alive, trapped in—
Stop that!
I could smell him now, a sickly sweet smell like rotting meat. Where was that smell coming from? His breath? Did he eat—?
I gritted my teeth and fought to shut my brain down, to concentrate on the moment. He kept shambling forward, still crouched, pale fingers glowing as they traced my steps in the dirt.
I'd have to risk the binding spell. It should hold for at least a few seconds, long enough for me to get past him and run like hell farther into the cave. With that bad leg, he couldn't catch me.
He stopped. After a moment's hesitation, he veered to the right, following my original tracks into the room. He scuttled to the arm where I'd first paused. At a noise across the room he leapt to his feet. He looked around, head low, sniffing the air. Another noise—the click of teeth. With a roar, he lunged forward and kicked the head into the wall. It hit with a splat, but rolled back again, spine still jumping.
He kicked it again, still bellowing, frustrated by his inability to end its life.
After a few more kicks, rage sated, he looked around the room, then strode out. He'd forgotten me.
Thank—
Grunts drifted from the main passage, near the entrance, as he tried to move the boulder. He hadn't forgotten me, he'd just changed tack and gone to see how I'd gotten in… and whether he could get out.
How long had he been in this cave? How long had this other thing—this head—I couldn't think of it as a man, that just started my brain spinning—how long had it been here? Like that?
This was the true hell of this dimension. Not the thing on the cave floor, but the never-ending possibility of it. Trapped for eternity in a world of other killers, any of whom could, at any moment, do this to you. All you can do is trust that they won't, trust that if you don't touch them, they won't touch you, rely on honor and decency from men who have none. And when they do exactly what you fear they'll do, you band together and lock them up with their victim, barricade them in and leave them there, alone… until some goddamn idiot walks up, goes, "Hmmm, what's this boulder doing here?" moves it, and barricades herself inside with them.
I squeezed my eyes closed and chased the thoughts away. Panic. So that's what it felt like.
After a few shoves on the boulder, the man gave a snarl that resounded through the cavern. Those dragging footsteps resumed and, seconds later, he appeared at the room entrance. He stepped inside and peered around, head low, snuffling and muttering. Then he wheeled and strode out the door, heading for the tunnel depths. Thank God. Now I could—Wait. Shit! When he'd turned, there'd been something in his hand. It was still too dark for me to see more than shapes, but I knew he hadn't been carrying anything earlier, and the only long, narrow object he could have picked up on his way to the entrance was the tree limb I'd left there—the one I needed to get out of this place.
Slow down. Take it slow and think. There has to be something else here you can use. As I looked around the room, my gaze slid over the four limbs. Arm bones would be too short. A leg bone might work, but first I'd have to get the flesh off of it. I knew a spell for flaying, but it only removed the skin layer and wouldn't do anything for the tissue beneath.
If only I still had Dachev's knife. I should have gone back for it. Carelessness. Pure carelessness. I was too accustomed to relying on spells.
I crept over to the nearest leg and bent down, running through my list of witch spells. Behind me, the thing on the floor chattered and made a strangled hissing sound, as if sensing what I was considering. I ignored it. Wasn't like he was going to need this anymore, and if I could use it, that's all that mattered.
After another moment's consideration, I shook my head and straightened. There was no easy way to deflesh the bone. Either I tried to move the stone without a pry bar or I went deeper into the cave in search of another tool. As the chattering continued behind me, I quickly rejected option two. No way in hell I was going anyplace that might bring me into contact with the creature who'd done this. I wasn't that brave… or that stupid.
