Robert B.Wintermute - The Quest for Karn

“Did you hear that?” Venser could once again hear himself speak, though the echoing in his skull sounded strange. He could more feel his words’ echo than properly hear them.

Elspeth was looking around. “Where is Koth?” she said.

They found him farther down the passage, lying on his side, groaning. A piece of twisted metal, which could have fit on a Phyrexian, had pierced the side of his abdomen.

Elspeth carefully took hold of the piece of metal and yanked it out. Koth grunted through gritted teeth. The piece was slathered with blood and Elspeth threw it clattering away. Koth relaxed and rolled over on his back. From behind them another Phyrexian call echoed.

“What will happen now?” Venser asked. “Perhaps the guide can fight off the Phyrexians and heal Koth?”

Elspeth did not laugh. She looked far too tired to laugh, Venser thought.

Instead she took a lanyard from around her neck. At the end of the lanyard was a small bottle. “You aren’t the only one with a bottle,” she said.

A Phyrexian call cut the air very close by. When Venser looked back, one of the enemy was standing atop the pile of its brethren. Venser held his breath as he waited for more of them to come streaming around that one. He kept waiting. He stood, and the Phyrexian on the pile-one of the ones swathed in layers of black, pitted metal and with a tiny, almost skeletal head bobbing on a thin neck-thought better of things and retreated, dragging its claws as it did.

“I saw only one,” Venser reported. Nobody responded. Elspeth had just poured some of her elixir into Koth’s mouth. The vulshok lay back and closed his eyes.

“Did you deliver him from misery?” Venser said, after a moment.

Elspeth’s face took on a look of horror. “No, you imbecile. I am sworn never to do what you speak of. He is healing from the inside.”

Koth opened his eyes. “I took her before,” he said, looking at the fleshling, who regarded him with a blank expression. “I took her to go with me to the surface. I’m sorry.”

“That is not something to worry about now,” Elspeth said.

We’ll worry about it later, Venser thought. Rest assured about that.

“I only wanted to help my people, who hate me,” Koth said.

“Yes,” Elspeth said. “We knew you were trying to help.”

The single Phyrexian called again from behind. That time a second Phyrexian responded from somewhere farther away. Then they heard the faint screech of another.

Koth heard it too. His eyes popped open and he tried to sit up. Elspeth pushed him back down. “What I gave you is speeding your body’s healing process, but it will still take a bit of time.”

Venser waited for her to elaborate, or for someone to ask how long it would take, but the guide and the fleshling stared down at Koth as though he were some new and exotic creature they had never seen before. Nobody appeared to be about to ask any sort of question. One thing was for sure, Venser was not carrying the vulshok who had tried to steal what they were lucky enough to have. Venser looked over at the fleshling, who was still staring down at Koth. What was going on in that one’s head, he wondered. He had yet to catch her with any expression showing itself on her smooth face. She almost never spoke. What was wrong with her? He had considered performing an exploration of her brain, but such an exploration took time and energy and he did not have much of either.

“How long until he can walk?” Venser said. On that note, he wondered how long he himself would be able to walk. One thing was for certain, if he sat down again he would fall asleep.

“A bit longer,” Elspeth said.

“We do not seem to have that,” Venser said. He waited for a Phyrexian call but there was, of course, none when he needed it to prove a point.

“We have to make that time for Koth,” Elspeth said, standing with a groan. “Vital parts of him are knitting themselves together as I say this. We cannot move him.”

A Phyrexian bawled somewhere far off. Sure, Venser thought. Now you make some noise.

Elspeth drew her sword. Venser had seen her sword look better. Its blade was chipped, and unless Venser was mistaken, it was slightly bent. It’s no wonder with all the Phyrexians that had met its keen edge.

Elspeth lowered the blade and faced the pile of Phyrexians. “We’ll know when Koth is ready to travel. He will awake and stand, if he survives.”

“If he survives?”

“The potion I gave him can sometimes affect individuals adversely.”

“Yet you …”

“His kidney was pierced,” Elspeth said in a lower tone. “He would have perished without the elixir.”

The guide slipped away into the passage ahead, to scout, Venser assumed.

“How did the Phyrexian force know where we were in the first place?” Venser asked.

“An interesting question,” Elspeth said. “And one I have been pondering.”

“What has your pondering led you to?”

“Nothing,” Elspeth admitted.

More Phyrexians called from various parts of the passage, drawing toward them. Soon Venser could hear them clicking and gagging just on the other side of the slag pile of the dead. He could tell by the creaking that there was at least one very large Phyrexian. But there was something else too. Something with a voice. He could hear its smooth-toned orders.

“What do they wait for?” Venser said.

“There numbers are not great,” the guide said, suddenly behind them again.

Venser waited. He slipped down into a cross-legged position and sat back against the wall. He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again Koth was sitting up. He did not look perfect, the potion’s effect was not complete, clearly, but he was able to blink and look around.

And there was plenty to look and listen to. Whatever the Phyrexians’ numbers when Koth was wounded, they had grown to much more. They were creaking on the other side of the pile in numbers sufficient to vibrate the walls and floor.

“They are just on the other side of the pile,” Venser said.

“Yes,” Elspeth said. “Nothing has changed.”

“Except it seems there are about five hundred of them now.”

“Their numbers have increased,” Elspeth said.

A figure climbed the pile. A female Phyrexian who had clearly once been an elf. Her hair had twisted into thick cables, some of which were long and moved independently like snakes around her head. Her eyes were black with oil, and some of the oil dripped out of her sockets and down her cheeks. Her left hand was an immense scythe and the other was a claw most terrible in size and aspect. She held up the scythe and all noise from the Phyrexians ceased at once. “Give us the creature who is all flesh.”

“Deal,” Venser said.

Elspeth turned to glare at him.

“Only jesting,” Venser said. “How could we give her to you? Maybe ask her opinion. Perhaps she’ll be agreeable to your proposal. You can never tell.”

“What do you want with her?” Elspeth said.

“Only that she is our property and you stole our property.”

“Springheads have property?” Koth said.

Venser had not heard the phrase springheads used to refer to Phyrexians before. He liked it. But the female Phyrexian bristled at the words. She frowned and disappeared down the side of the pile. When she appeared again, it was with many Phyrexians in tow.

“Now,” she said. “Say that again so they know who to slay first.”

But Koth had closed his eyes.

“Who are you,” Venser said suddenly.

“I am Glissa, the bringer of your death.”

She lowered her scythe hand and the Phyrexians began moving forward.

Koth did not open his eyes. Elspeth looked uneasily back at Venser. The guide was unarmed, as far as Venser had ever seen, and sure enough, when Venser looked, the guide was gone. The fleshling was standing back between Venser and Koth. She had no weapon.