L. Camp - The Exotic Enchanter

“Voices,” she whispered. They stood motionless for a long moment. Then Belphebe relaxed, saying: “They have passed.” Shea leaned over and kissed her cheek. Her keen hearing came in handy at times like this. But they still walked carefully back into the main passageway. IV

The two traveled silently on and the passageway opened into a large, brown-walled chamber. In the distance, Shea could hear the faint drip of water. Just ahead, there was another torch set into the wall, burning fitfully. Belpbebe turned to make sure Shea was at her side and took his band. He thought briefly of Snag and Polacek and wondered what kind of trouble the Czech would have gotten them into by now.

They continued deeper into the cave. Belphebe led the way, almost on tiptoe, being careful not to make a sound. Shea could see goblin footprints in the mud. They ducked under a low rock and rounded a corner. Belphebe tugged at his sleeve. There before them, revealed in the dim yellow light, was a large, iron-bound wooden door set into the wall.

Upon closer investigation. Shea could make out interlocking pentacles lightly painted on the boards. Shea leaned against the door and shoved. It did not move. There was no handle nor visible hinges.

“This must be the old witch’s room,” he whispered to Belphebe. “Give me a couple strands of your hair.” He knew how to handle a door locked in this fashion.

Reaching into his pocket, Shea produced two flattened cigarettes and tied them together in the form of a cross with Belphebe’s hair. He held this up to the door and tried to remember the proper wording.

“Pentacles near and pentacles far,

Now disappear from where you are!

Shemhamporesh!”

The door creaked inward slightly. Just then, however, the sound of bare feet slapping against clay came from all directions. Shea turned to see several yellow-eyed goblins coming toward them out of the darkness.

“Hi, there! We can ex —” But Shea’s words were cut off as two of the goblins rushed at him with stout wooden clubs waving and the others headed for Belphebe. Harold pulled out his rapier, dodged the attack, and lunged at the nearest goblin. The blade sank into the creatures chest as it impaled itself with its forward motion. It fell to the ground dropping its club. As Shea bent to remove his weapon, he felt the swish of another club passing over the top of his head. The goblin cursed.

Meanwhile, Belphebe had stuffed the torch in the face of one goblin and was running around the cave with another in hot pursuit. Shea brought his rapier up butt first into the jaw of his adversary. It fell to the ground moaning. Just then, Shea caught a glancing blow to his shoulder, which spun him around. It was the goblin Belphebe had blinded with the torch. Shea raised his arm and clobbered the monster on top of its head with the hilt of his rapier. The creature dropped to its knees and fell over on its face.

Belphebe ran in front of him with her pursuer hard on her heels. Shea stuck out his foot and tripped the goblin who was trying to club his wife. It snarled, reached over, and pulled Shea’s legs out from under him. A wrestling match quickly developed between them, but Harold had the advantage of more than sixty pounds over the monster. They rolled around on the clay floor, grunting and snorting. Shea got his opponent in a vicious full nelson. Suddenly Belphebe was there with another goblin club. She clouted the monster soundly and it slumped in Shea’s arms.

Harold looked around, panting. There were no more active goblins. “Nice work, kid!” he said in a breathless whisper to Belphebe.

“Nay, to the hilt end of your blade and to your foot go all the credit, husband! She bent over him and dabbed at a scrape on his forehead.

They went back to the door and Shea gave it a gentle shove. It swung open.

A dim red light shone out into the cave from within the room. Harold and Belphebe entered, cautiously. Inside, illumination came from a mound of glowing coals, all that remained of a large fire that had been set in the center of the room. Arranged around the edges of the chamber was an assortment of crude wooden furniture, hanging tapestries, some shelves covered with assorted oddities, and a long low bed on which lay — Sycorax. She slept with her mouth open, snoring softly. Shea and Belphebe held their breaths as they edged around the walls of the room past the sleeping witch. Up close, the hag was even uglier Shea had imagined, and she didn’t smell any too good, either. He noticed a smaller, boxlike structure situated near the bed. A strange hissing noise came frorn within. A quick look inside revealed a disgusting sleeping baby that resembled a dead fish.

“Caliban.” Shea whispered to his wife. She nodded her agreement

They came to the shelves, and Harold examined them carefully, without touching any of the objects they held. The pentagrams were down, but there might easily be other less visible traps guarding the witch’s possessions. Belphebe nudged Shea and pointed to Doc Chalmers’ books of symbols. wedged in between several black leather-bound books. With a careful hand, Shea gently slid the magic book out from between two moldy leather tomes. He opened it briefly; everything appeared to be all right.

Slipping the book into his breast pocket, Shea continued his explorations. Nearby was a small minor and a small green vial with some writing scratched on the side. At the far side of the shelf, Shea could see Sycorax’s red robe, folded neatly, and leaning against it, her long crooked staff.

Beneath the shelves, Harold found a cache of assorted weapons, consisting mostly of daggers, but a large axe with a sharply honed edge lay on top of the pile.

Belphebe spotted the axe and whispered in Shea’s ear. “An opportunity to end this struggle once and finally, presents itself Harold.” She picked up the weapon and offered it to her husband.

Shea paused and thought. The witch was dead before Prospero came to the Island in the play. Why shouldn’t he be the messenger of her destruction? On the other hand, she was asleep with her baby at her side. . . .

“Harold, if you cannot, I shall do the deed!” Belphebe whispered resolutely. Shea steeled his nerve and grabbed the axe from her hands. If the witch had to be killed, he would not fob the heinous task off on his wife. He tiptoed over to the witch’s bed and lifted the heavy blade into the air. He paused again. There was a lump in his throat. This was cold-blooded murder,

Sycoxax’s eyes flashed open and stared ominously into his. Shea was paralyzed. The witch began to scream in a high-pitched shrill voice. Harold dropped the axe to one side, grabbed Belphebe by the hand, and ran for the enhance. As they passed the large wooden door, he reached out and pulled it shut. It slammed heavily behind them, throwing the cave into almost total darkness.

He paused, shaking with fright. Belphebe pulled him forward. “This way, Harold!” They stumbled along in the dark. She pushed his head down as they ducked under a low rock. Once around the next corner, he could see a dim light ahead. They ran at full speed past some broken statues and then struggled uphill toward the daylight that beckoned ahead.

Belphebe dashed out into the dim light of evening, with Shea tight behind her.

“Votsy, Snag!” be yelled, but there was no answer. He could hear a great clamor from the cave behind them. They turned to run up the hill where the brooms were hidden, but the air before them began to blur and a male spirit materialized before their eyes. It spoke two strange words and the ground on which Shea and Belphebe were standing turned to slime. They sank up to their knees, and the spirit laughed. It was the same laugh Shea had heard when he met the harpy.