David Cook - Beyong the Moons

The cloakmaster rounded a bend in the corridor and was rewarded with the sight of a ladder leading to an upper deck. He blindly grasped it and clambered up. Below, the umber hulk’s clicking toenails faded in the distance.

At the top of the ladder, Teldin poked his head through the hatch. The next deck was dark, so the human hung on the rungs, listening as long as he dared, but there was no sound from the blackness. He hoisted the lantern up and carefully opened a shutter to let a beam of light play over the floor. The landing was empty, so Teldin sprawled on the cold metal deck, waiting to catch his breath.

It was only after he had stopped panting that the cloakmaster was ready to move again. The overmaster's umber hulk would soon regain the trail, and the longer Teldin stayed here, the sooner it, or another, would find him. Still, he was puzzled by the fact that he had not met another neogi during his flight. It seemed all the more surprising after the pandemonium his escape had created. The ship was too quiet, as if it had been deserted. Partly curious-but mostly running on survival instincts-Teldin took up his lantern and cautiously began exploring again.

The farmer left the landing and was struck by a feeling of familiarity. He checked one of the rooms by pulling open the heavy metal portal and letting the lantern shine in. The beam played over a blood-crusted table.

Panic rose from Teldin ‘s core and grabbed hold of his gut. He slammed the door shut and fell against it, his body seized by uncontrollable shivers so strong that the lantern jiggled and wavered, throwing wild, leaping shadows all around. The farmer-turned-cloakmaster fought to drive away the fear that transformed the leaping shapes into hideous tormenters.

A deep boom, followed by a shudder through the deck, passed unnoticed by Teldin. A second explosion and a third caused no more reaction from the human, but the noises had not gone unnoticed elsewhere. Voices and the hammering of running feet came from the aft, and Teldin realized with apprehension that the ship was not deserted.

The need to act once again drove away his demons, and Teldin headed away from all the noise. Whatever was happening aft meant neogi were there, the fugitive reasoned, and he did not want to run into them. With wavering footsteps, the farmer ducked down a long, gray hallway lined with doors and stopped at each long enough to peer in. The first few he checked contained nothing but junk-old sails, spools of cable, buckets, and spare blocks. Just as he was closing the door on the third, a glint of metal caught his attention. Teldin looked closer and found that it was Eversharp, his spear, shoved into a pile of ethereal sailcloth. Eagerly, the farmer pulled the slender spear from the mass, working it free from a tangle of netting. Tapping the butt against the deck with a solid wooden thump made Teldin feel much better.

The ship shuddered with another explosion. Aware and alert once again, the farmer speculated about the cause. It was either outside or inside, and he guessed inside, probably caused by his escape. Perhaps the yrthni-ma‘adi was still alive and rampaging in the hold; perhaps its maggot spawn were responsible. Teldin didn’t care, since whatever it was had apparently drawn the neogi and their lordservants aft.

The yeoman pressed on, steadying himself with one hand on the bulkheads at all times. The blasts became more violent, causing the ship to lurch with each thundering roar. “I must have done better than I thought,” mumbled Teldin in a daze. He continued the fruitless room-to-room search. While he found no one, nor, more importantly, an exit, each room was more imposing than the last.

Teldin drew up at another door, spear poised, hand on handle. “There meat is!” a voice behind him hissed. Teldin almost dropped the lance in surprise, but managed to maintain his composure enough to turn about. With a flick, the human unshuttered the lantern, flooding the hail with light. There at the back of the corridor, hiding its eyes from the unaccustomed brilliance, was the golden-skinned and tattooed overmaster. Its draped robe was tattered and stained, and yellow fluid seeped from cuts and scrapes up and down its neck. Behind it loomed the overmaster’s ferocious umber hulk lordservant. Teidin caught a glance of its swirling, multifaceted eyes, his knees suddenly buckled, and he remained standing only by sagging against the bulkhead. “Meat lordservant kill!” screeched the neogi, leaping aside for its slave’s rush.

The cloakmaster supported himself with one hand on the wall and braced the spear to receive the creature’s charge, certain that he was about to fall to the umber hulk’s crushing swipes. Nonetheless, Teldin was determined to fight to his last. The umber hulk steadily advanced, building speed with each step, claws sweeping the ground before it.

Aloud, explosive crack, followed immediately by another, brought the umber hulk’s menacing advance to an abrupt halt. The bone-plated beast jerked upright and let loose a chittering squeal as its mandibles ground and clattered in rage and surprise. The beast lurched forward for half a step, propelled by invisible blows from behind, then whirled about with its arms out-flung. The umber hulk’s huge talons gouged furrows through the metal bulkheads. Teldin saw a pair of splintered, bloody holes in the creature’s bony hide, just over the left shoulder.

“Second section-spears at ready!” boomed a familiar, deep voice from the far end of the hall. Teldin stood flabbergasted; it was Gomja. Over the umber hulk’s chittering roar the yeoman heard high-pitched voices launch into long tirades. “Belay the prattle!” the voice boomed again. Before any more could be said, the wounded umber hulk crashed into its attackers.

Screams of metal, beast, and gnomes sang through the corridor. In the dim light at the end, the umber hulk was a flailing shadow of rage as its claws rose and fell. A small body hurtled over its shoulder, splattering blood across the ceiling. The disemboweled projectile landed near the overmaster as the neogi crouched against the wall. “Lordservant kill!” the vile little fiend shrieked. “Hateful meat I will kill.” Malicious fire gleamed in its eyes as the neogi looked toward Teldin, who wobbled on his feet in the corridor. The umber hulk howled with renewed fury.

Warily scuttling closer on its spider legs, the overmaster bobbed and weaved its small head, looking for an opening to deliver a vicious bite. It moved its body like a fencer, head and neck like the sword. It feinted, then riposted when Teldin’s thrusts carried him past the mark, and the supple neck dodged Teldin’s strikes with artful ease.

Teldin’s every block and thrust grew weaker. The adrenaline and fear that had sustained his body for so long were fading, leaving only a hollow shell. The concentration it took to battle the overmaster simply was not there. With each strike, the neogi edged closer to Teldin, confident that soon it would make the kill.

“Meat, surrender,” the overmaster crooned confidently. “Only cloak I want. Failed your friends have. Most powerful my lordservant is. Help you they cannot. Their dying you hear.” The raging screams of battle still issued from the hallway. Teldin paused for a moment, listening to the neogi’s words, and the overmaster lunged at the opportunity. The tottering human barely beat back the attack. “Cloak you give me, human. Then kill you I will not-eat you I will not. With cloak offer generosity I can. Only slave you will be.”

Teeth clenched, Teldin lunged forward. Eversharp nipped the neogi’s shoulder and tore away the little spider- thing’s robe, revealing the brown-furred body underneath.

“No! I can still kill you!” The cloakmaster seethed, but his timing and speed were off. Before he could recover, the neogi darted in and struck. Rows of razored teeth clamped down of Teldin’s forearm, biting almost to the bone.