David Cook - Beyong the Moons

Finally the group reached an improvised pen in the middle of the cargo hold. It was enclosed by solid walls mote than fifteen feet high, which were braced with a motley assembly of beams, as if to hold back some great pressure. A narrow gallery circled the top of the walls and was reached by reinforced stairs.

“Wait,” the overmaster ordered the prisoner’s guard. The umber hulk clicked its huge pincers in understanding. While Teldin stood on the deck, slowly trying to regain his strength, the lordservants hoisted their neogi masters up to the balcony, since it was clear that the small catwalk would never support the huge slaves.

The balcony quickly became clustered with neogi, their bodies tattooed in a variety of ways and colors. Here the overmaster was clearly supreme, the other neogi keeping a respectful distance from where it stood. Only M’phei was close by, glaring hatefully whenever the overmaster’s attention was elsewhere.

At last the neogi overmaster gave the signal for Teldin to be brought up. The brown-plated umber hulk prodded Teldin up the strengthened stairs, staying close behind him. Once on the catwalk, the umber hulk pushed Teldin toward the edge of the pit. At the far corners, several neogi hung lanterns on poles and swung these out over the void.

The bobbing lights filled the pen with shadowy shapes, some real, others only brief interplays of light and dark. Teldin sensed danger and resisted the umber hulk’s prodding as he desperately scanned the shadows for the source of his fears. His vigilance was rewarded when a bloated, dark bulk slowly twisted and heaved across the floor. Moving into the fitful light, the dark blob metamorphosed into a grotesque parody of the vile neogi. Where the overmaster and the others were small, no larger than a strong dog, the thing in the pit was immense. The bulk of it was a shuddering mass about the size of a wagon or more, the flesh falling in thick, sagging folds. Its dull white skin was covered by overstretched tattoos and a network of purple veins. It had the appearance of a gigantic maggot. The body shuddered and heaved as the creature turned its head toward Teldin. There was the face of a neogi, all evil eyes and ravenous teeth, but the neck was buried in the folds of fat. Tiny, shriveled hands protruded from the ball of flesh, and the eight legs that gave the neogi its distinctive spidery appearance were nothing but atrophied stumps. The yrrhni-ma‘adi , the great old master, struggled to climb up the sides of the pit with labored breath, only to slide slowly back to the deck.

Teldin pushed against the umber hulk’s claws that forced him forward, but, weakened as he was, the human slowly lost ground. Two toes slipped over the edge. A hissing chant rose from the neogi, eager for the specatacle to begin.

“Stop!” the overmaster snapped, striking the umber hulk to convey the command. “On platform him you put."

“Yes, little master,” the lordservant intoned. With pressure behind him gone, Teldin quickly stepped back from the edge.

"Cloak you produce,” the overmaster demanded of Teldin, “before to yrthni-ma‘adi I feed you.” The overmaster pointed to the thing in the pit. “My quastoth once it was, before too old and feeble it became. Now, more quastoth for me it will breed.” The overmaster was interrupted by a grating scream from the creature below. “Your flesh my children hunger for. Tell me!”

Teldin’s body trembled, not with fear or exhaustion, but with hysterical rage at his captors. His death was certain, the farmer felt, so it did not matter what he did now. “You’ll never find the cloak,” he prophesized, abandoning all denials. Teldin spat at the overmaster’s face, causing the creature to lunge forward, snapping with rage. The sharp teeth brushed at the cloth of Teldin’s pants. Barely recovering its composure, the overmaster wheeled to its lordservant.

“Out set it!” raged the overmaster. “Out set the meat! Watch it die I will and cloak I then will find.”

The umber hulk seized Teldin, pinioned his arms to his side, and swung the human out over the edge. The great old master flowed underneath Teldin, the little head lunging and snapping up at his dangling feet. Set for the end, Teldin awaited the inevitable drop.

To the farmer’s surprise, the umber hulk, with its arms fully extended, carefully lowered Teldin onto a small wooden platform about the size of a flagstone. Teldin wobbled before finally gaining his balance. The platform was set atop a pole in the center of the pit, just tall enough to be out of the yrthni-ma ‘adi’s jaws. This cleverly made sitting impossible, since the creature would then be within reach. Teldin could only remain safe as long as he stood and kept his balance. The creature, knowing this, waited patiently below.

“Until it falls,” called out the overmaster from his seat of honor, “meat remains and to their duties my quastoth will return. With me M’phei will stay.” The other neogi grumbled, envious of the honor shown M’phei, but they slowly left the balcony.

From his perch, Teldin watched them leave. The human felt as if he were floating in space, so precariously balanced was he. The overmaster watched and waited eagerly. Weak from his tortures, Teldin fought to control the muscle spasms that seized his legs and back. Memories of the pain ached through his joints; exhaustion floated into his muscles. “Fall meat will,” the overmaster intoned just as Teldin wavered, struggled to regain his footing, wobbled some more, and finally brought himself back to stability.

Time passed and Teldin somehow managed to remain on the platform. The overmaster watched Teldin constantly, waiting patiently for what the neogi knew must come. Below, the yrthni-ma‘adi sat motionless, though now and then its skin rippled and surged, as if something moved just beneath its surface.

Finally, it happened. Teldin’s eyes closed a little too long and suddenly he was falling.

Teldin hit the fleshy form beneath him with a glancing blow, bounced off onto the open floor, and sprawled into the dirt. The yrthni-ma‘adi gave a scream of raw desire and surged toward Teldin in a flowing mass. As the human struggled to his knees, his mind filled with panic and he felt something soft brush the back of his legs.

From above the farmer could hear the overmaster let loose an exultant cry. “Shown itself cloak has!”

“Damn cloak!” Teldin gasped as he dove to the side, dodging the giant, maggotish old master’s lunge. The cloth billowed behind him, just missing being caught in the bloated neogi’s jaws. The creature hit the wall with a resounding thud, shaking the overmaster on the platform above. With a screech of pain, the yrthni-ma’adi hauled its bulk around for another attack. Teldin scrambled backward and warily circled away from the creature, trying to keep the small pole of his former perch between them.

The human had no idea how long he had been playing this game of lunge and dodge, nor any idea how much longer he could keep it up. Each breath was a searing gasp of pain. His side was on fire, and the wounds on his chest were bleeding again. With each lunge, the weakened farmer moved a little slower and the jaws of the yrthni-ma‘adi snapped a little closer.

“Human meat,” taunted the overmaster from above, “soon kinsman avoid not. Your flesh he will eat. Then cloak I will take and most powerful overmaster I will be.”

Teldin risked a glance up at the eel-like little face that peered from the darkness. “Why don’t you come down and get it, you monster?” he defiantly breathed. The bloated creature moved in the corner of his eye, and the exhausted yeoman shuffled left, keeping the pole between the two.