Paul Thompson - Dargonesti

Gundabyr and Garnath ferried their newly made store of gnomefire behind the barrier. Vixa stood atop the growing barricade, staring into the depths of the cave.

“Keep some of those pots handy,” she said quietly to the dwarves. “We may need them to discourage the chilkit.”

While she spoke, a thin stream of water came rolling down the cave floor. Some of the captives saw this and let out screams of fright.

“Vanthanoris, stand ready,” Armantaro called. The young elf was poised by the edge of the pool.

There was a loud crash, and a cloud of dust spurted down the passage. A knee-deep surge of water followed, splashing against the foot of the hastily built barricade. Parts of the makeshift wall were swiftly washed away. Prisoners quickly armed themselves with stones or rude clubs made from ship timbers. Vixa stood atop a heap of flattened crates, heart pounding.

The mining noises ceased. The level of water slowly rose, seeping through the barrier. Then another, more sinister sound reached those on the barricade: the clicking of chilkit feet on stone. Vague shadowy forms appeared in the dark recesses of the cave.

“Astra, be with us,” Armantaro whispered. Then he yelled, “Go, Van!”

Vanthanoris dove into the pool.

The prisoners stood behind the debris barricade, straining every nerve to see the enemy. The clicking grew louder.

“Ah! There!”

All eyes went to where Vixa pointed. Clinging to the roof of the grotto was a chilkit. The sight sent panic through the slaves. Armantaro shouted for them to stand fast. The old colonel’s voice, long used to command, froze most of the fearful in their tracks.

Tentatively, the chilkit entered the illumination cast by the weak Dargonesti light globes. Its long antennae swept the air. It seemed confused and hesitant.

A second chilkit appeared, near the left wall. A third came slowly out of the darkness at floor level.

“Have at them!” Armantaro cried.

A barrage of stones hit the monster clinging to the ceiling, forcing it to back away. It waved one claw to ward off missiles, batted some aside. The chilkit on the wall rushed forward with startling speed and crashed into the pile of wreckage. Timber balks and broken yardarms fell apart, trapping several men underneath. The crates Vixa stood on slid sideways, throwing her off. She splashed down into six inches of water and rolled to a stop against something hard.

A chilkit’s legs. She’d landed on the wrong side of the barricade, at the feet of the monster who’d advanced across the floor. For an endless second the creature regarded her with inky eyes. An antenna flicked lightly across her face. Vixa had a fleeting notion that the creature might not be hostile-until it raised a claw over her. The sharp inner edges were hard and white, in contrast to the bright red of the rest of the claw.

She wriggled between the monster’s legs until she was directly under it. The claw raked the stone floor just behind her feet. Vixa kept crawling, using her elbows and knees. The dripping wet belly of the chilkit was inches above her. Oh, for Armantaro’s dagger right now!

The chilkit did a fast turn, stepping over and uncovering Vixa. One of its spiny-fingered hands closed around her ankle. She yelled and kicked at it.

A red-bearded man darted in and hammered the chilkit with a club. After the third blow, his waterlogged weapon snapped. The monster thrust forward a closed claw, spearing the human in the chest. The chilkit easily lifted its victim off his feet and threw him back across the barricade.

By this time the grotto was a perfect riot of noise: shouts, screams, the smash and splinter of wood, the clatter of stone on flesh and stone. Vixa was still flailing in the shallow water, trying to free herself from the chilkit’s grip when the burly Garnath approached. With a rock weighing as much as Vixa herself, the dwarf smashed the monster’s arm, right on the joint. The crimson shell splintered and pink flesh tore. Vixa pulled away, the chilkit’s four-fingered hand still locked around her leg.

Brave Garnath did not long survive that mighty blow. Stuttering in pain, the chilkit swung a massive claw sideways at the dwarf. It connected with a solid thud. Amazingly, Garnath kept his feet, though blood flowed from his lips. Vixa grabbed the first thing she could find: the stump of an oar. She whacked at the chilkit, but to no effect. The monster opened its claw around Garnath’s neck. The dwarf threw up his arms to hold the deadly pincers apart, but the scissor claw closed with a hideous crunch. The gallant dwarf’s head was severed from his body.

Vixa shouted a torrent of obscenity, yanking the chilkit hand from her leg. She climbed over the barricade, snatching up one of Gundabyr’s pots of gnomefire paste. Her aim was true. The pot hit the chilkit that had slain Garnath, splattering sticky liquid over its armored chest.

The steady hail of rocks and missiles dislodged the chilkit clinging to the ceiling. It fell with a crash and lay squirming on its back. The other monster climbing along the left-hand wall was pushing through the tumbledown barrier, slaying anyone within claw-reach.

Blinking back tears of rage and sadness, Vixa climbed atop the remnants of the barricade. The now one-handed chilkit she’d hit with gnomefire paste was busy trying to drag Garnath’s body back into the shadows. The yellow paste ran in slow streams down its front pair of legs. Several yards back into the darkness, the level of the steadily rising water reached the paste and ignited it.

The monster released Garnath’s body and whirled frantically, trying to scrape off the flaming mess. This only spread the flames to the rest of its body. Then the chilkit lowered itself into the water, trying to wash the gnomefire away. This fanned the blaze farther. The burning monster made strange bubbling sounds. The other two chilkit stopped their attacks and went to their comrade’s aid.

“Hit them with the gnomefire!” Vixa cried. “Seawater ignites it! Throw the pots!”

Armantaro and Harmanutis led the charge. All of Gundabyr’s supply of gnomefire was on their side of the barrier, so they had ample ammunition. Harmanutis proved to have a strong arm and good aim. He hit the nearest chilkit twice in succession. Flames roared in the tight passage, the heat driving the prisoners back. The chilkit collapsed, his body blazing. The one-handed monster, grievously burned, staggered backward. When it was nearly out of range, a pot smashed into the wall above it, and paste rained down on its head. The chilkit turned and fled, and the gnomefire burst into flame. The last chilkit beat a fast retreat, leaving its two fellows blazing.

The grotto resounded with cheers. Some of the men waded out from behind the barricade and battered the dead monsters with their clubs.

“Come back! Come back!” Armantaro called. “The water is still rising! We must get to higher ground!”

The immediate danger from the chilkit was over, but the more insidious peril of drowning was growing stronger. Despite Armantaro’s urging, there wasn’t really any higher ground in the grotto-the entire cave sloped downward to the pool entrance. All the prisoners collected by the pool. Water was streaming from the rear of the cave. Pots and jars of gnomefire floated everywhere. Gundabyr, his face bloody, reminded them of the danger. If the gnomefire got wet …

“Where are the Quoowahb?” someone shouted.

“Will they leave us to drown?” cried another.

“Vanthanoris may not have gotten through,” Harmanutis said grimly. He was cradling his left arm against his chest. A chilkit had gashed him badly.

The gnomefires at the rear still burned. By this light, and the feeble illumination of the Dargonesti globes, three hundred prisoners stared at each other helplessly, clinging to floating debris, the rough walls, or each other.