Hugh Cook - The Walrus and the Warwolf

'The door doesn't open from the inside,' said Arabin. 'Then we'll not go into it,' said Ika Thole, 'or we'll be trapped.'

'No,' said Drake. 'We can stay outside and freeze to death. Some choice!'

'We'll prop the door open with rocks,' said Arabin. 'That's safest.'

'Aye,' said Rolf Thelemite. 'Then send scouts ahead to see how the innards fare. I'd say this place guts right through the mountain.'

'I'd say it must,' said Arabin. 'Otherwise we're dead men. And I say, too, no scouting parties. We're dying on our feet as it is. Time is life, man. If there's no way through, we're likely all dead anyway. So let's push on.'

After much argument, they piled up rocks to jam the door open, then dared the tunnel. It was cobbled with red and green stones and lit by millions and millions of pinpoints of white light built into roof and walls.

They had not gone very far down this square-cut shaft when there was a grating sound behind. Turning, they saw the door was closing. As they raced back, the door crushed the rocks, sealing the tunnel mouth. Panting, they hammered against the door.

The door boomed like a sullen drum as the men attacked it. Echoes waded away down the tunnel, crashing from side to side as they went.'Give, you ganch!' screamed Drake in panic, kicking it.

'Easy, man,' said Arabin, his own pulse slowly subsiding. 'We'll not break metal with muscle.'And Drake, at length, abandoned the attack.

'Grief!' said Simp Fiche, picking up a handful of fragments from the shattered rocks. 'What kind of rocks were we using?'

'Rocks solid enough,' said Ish Ulpin, giving the door one last kick.'We're trapped,' said Ike Thole bleakly.

'We trapped with friends,' said Whale Mike, in a voice which was meant to be encouraging. 'That something, anyway.'

Drake, remembering the invisible door he had found in the Wishing Tower in Ling, hunted around for a cause-and-effect panel. But found no such thing.

'Well, we're bound on our journey now,' said Jon Arabin, 'whether we like it or not.''We don't like it!' said Burpskin.

'Aye, then that'll encourage us to step out smartly-like,' said Jez Glane.

They walked for a long time, pushing past three more doors. Each closed behind them with an enormous echo-raising crash. Then they came to a stream which ran in through a gaping hole on one side of the tunnel and out through an equally dark and ominous hole on the other, leaving fifty paces of the tunnel (which dipped slightly at that point) almost knee-deep in water.

'I'm weary,' said Arabin, 'and I'm thinking this is as good a place to camp as any.'

'Aye,' said Mulps. 'We could all of us use some sleep, that's for sure.'

Nobody argued. They quenched their thirst then settled to sleep. Drake dreamed of his trip to Ling, of the Neversh he had fought on the deck of the Warwolf, of a gold-skinned woman hot in passion. . . of a sea-maid wet within his arms, cold kelp slicked across her delta.

He woke with water lapping round his boots: the stream was rising.

'Rain outside,' said Arabin. 'Heavy rain, by the looks. Better push on, before the whole place floods.' On they went.

Drake, footsore and weary, lagged behind the others, with Sully Yot at his side. Was the tunnel endless? To while away the march, he made his amulet begin its recitation.

'What's that?' asked Yot, fascinated by the low-murmuring voice issuing from the fancy little object, which he had never seen before.

'Ah, this!' said Drake. 'It's from a Wishing Tower in the land of the Ling. A hot journey I had to get there, too. Fifty leagues across the barrens, with no water. I would have starved, man, except I had a crossbow with me.''A crossbow?'

'A shooting weapon. Man, how long have you been a pirate? Don't you know anything?''How can a shooting weapon get you water?' said Yot.

'I shot vultures from the pink skies – aye, don't look at me like that, man, the sky runs pink when you get that far south – then I drank their blood. Then I had five fights and a devil of a bruising going hand-to-hand with a pack of Guardian Machines. Fierce with fire they were, with whips about them tipped with burning suns.''Yet you survived?'

'Nay, I died, but was resurrected by some South-searchers after the manner of those parts. Thanks to them, I got back with treasure as well as sunburn – good stuff, gold, silver, diamonds big as a fist. And talking amulets like this one, five hundred of them. But I lost all at Narba, was set on by a knuckle-gang, yes. I killed twenty, but that was precious little use to me in the end. They got all but this single amulet, which holds the key to some awesome magic if we could but get the understanding of it.'

'You must have had powerful assistance from somewhere or something,' said Yot, seriously. 'Maybe . . . maybe it was the Demon who was with you, you being his son and all.'

'Ah, man, I'm not so sure about the Demon these days,' said Drake. 'Not since Carawell, no.''Why, what happened at Carawell?'

'You were there, remember? At the castle, Brazlehoist wasn't it? Or was it Borabiz?'

'No, the castle was Biltungsgraft,' said Yot. 'If it's the same place we're talking about. I mean the old place in the sands where the locals held Warwolf captive, thinking him ambassador from Hexagon.''Aye, that's the place,' said Drake.

In point of fact, the castle had been called Bildungs-grift, and the locals had not thought Jon Arabin to be an ambassador from Hexagon – they had thought him Baron Farouk in person.'That's where I got burnt by lightning,' said Yot.'Aye'There's something to tell about that, is there?' 'There is indeed,' said Drake.

As they walked along, Drake told of calling on the Flame ('-meaning no harm by it, mind-') and of a Flame, a pillar of fire, manifesting itself, knocking Yot unconscious when he tried embracing it, and causing the locals such fear that they shortly fled.

'So it is real, after all!' said Yot, his faith restored. 'Why did you never talk of this before?'

'I tried once, man, but you weren't in the mood or something;''Will you . . . will you convert to the Flame, then?'

'Well,' said Drake, grudgingly, 'I've tried the Demon serious-hard, and he's failed me. I never thought much of Gouda Muck, I'll tell you that honest. But this Flame business . . . there's no disputing what I've seen. There's just one thing. I'm no Demon's son. I'll tell you that for true. The Demon wouldn't let his own son go without the pleasures of drink, would he now?'

'But you drink!' said Yot. 'You're famous for it! And, man, you've got a reputation for a hard head – but I've seen you drunk myself.''Ah,' said Drake. 'Therein lies a tale.'

And he told Yot all his woes and tribulations concerning alcohol.

T might as well be drinking pig's blood or seaweed soup,' concluded Drake. 'It does no good for me.'

'You're right,' said Yot. 'You can't be the Demon's son. I'llgrantyouthat – if you now grant the truth of the Flame.''Aye,' said Drake. 'That I do.'

And with that believed himself a true worshipper. But he was not. For he had already denied two of the basic tenets of Goudanism:that Gouda Muck is, always has been and always will be infallible in His pronouncements on all things, since He is one and the same as the Flame, which is the High God of All Gods; andthat Dreldragon Drakedon Douay is the son of the Demon, incarnated in man-flesh that he may act as an Agent of Ultimate Evil.

The pair shortly denied a third basic tenet, concerning the vital necessity of proselytizing all possible converts at every opportunity – for Drake convinced Yot that such action would only persuade the short-tempered half-starved pirates to kill them and eat them.'I've talked to them before of the Flame,' said Yot.

'Aye,' said Drake. 'In better times. Doubtless then they forgot each word as you said it. This time we'd not be so lucky. They'd eat us.'