Hugh Cook - The Walrus and the Warwolf

'What? And the women to go with them?' asked Simp Fiche.

'Nay, man,' said Suzilman. 'Gwiff holes, by the looks of them.'

The pirates gathered in, to find Suzilman standing guard by a low bank. Half a dozen earthy holes, too small for a man to crawl into, tunnelled straight into the bank.

'Holes for gwiff,' said Suzilman. T seen them in the Ravlish Lands, aye.'

'What's this gwiff, man?' asked Mulps. 'A great big snake? Or what?'

'No,' said Suzilman, scratching his head, thinking. 'The gwiff, he's a bit like a pig yet a bit like a ferret, if you know what I mean. A long snout with stripes running nose to tail, some white, the rest black. He's got claws on him like a crocodile, if you ever seen such. Teeth like a rat, go through steel no trouble. Eats kludes with 'em.''What about men?' asked Jon Arabin.

'Well, I never seen him fight no men, only dogs, in a pit, for sport. A mess he made of them dogs, too, I'll be telling you. But men, no, I don't think so.'

'We don't want to be finding out the hard way now, do we?' said Jez Glane.'This gwiff-thing,' said Whale Mike with a grin.

'Maybe he eat men, maybe not – but I don't think he eat me!'

Indeed, it was doubtful anything living in a hole so small would have the nerve to tackle Whale Mike. Not unless it was extremely aggressive. Or very, very stupid.'We'll do it,' said Arabin, decisively.

'Not that we've any weapons, of course,' said Ika Thole.

'This will serve,' said Arabin, hefting a branch. 'Dig, boys, dig!'

Much later, filthy with earth and mud, sweating despite a light fall of snow dusting out of the sky, they broke through into an underground chamber.'How big is it?' asked Arabin.

'Unknown,' said Thole, thrusting a stick into the darkness.Something below squealed with rage.'Huh! A griff!' said Bucks Cat.'Gwiff,' said Peg Suzilman, by way of correction.

But before they could argue about it, several dog-sized creatures came swarming out of the wreckage of the barrow, trying to escape.'Stop them!' shouted Arabin.

There was a brief, desperate fight. Sticks rose and fell. Boots swung. There was a crackl of shattering bone as Whale Mike fisted something.'Knives!' screamed Fiche. 'They're armed!'

He threw up his right arm, a bloody cut running a third of its length.

'Peace, man,' said Arabin, who had just brained a knife-armed assailant. 'Armed or not, they're only a kind of dog.'

But Fiche still screamed and shouted as if seriously wounded. Then Bucks Cat cuffed him round the earhole, which shut him up promptly (and permanently damaged the hearing in his left-hand ear).

The fight was over almost as soon as it had begun. Most of the creatures had escaped, but two had been killed.

They were the size of knee-high dogs. They had reddish-brown fur. The tops of their skulls were bald bone. Their forepaws looked like hands. They wore no proper clothes, but had belts with sheaths, bottles and boxes attached.

Two knives were recovered, curious pieces of finely wrought bronze. The hilt of one was in the form of the head of a dragon; the hilt of the other was fashioned to resemble a dolphin.

'Bloody uncomfortable to hold,' muttered Jon Arabin, who had claimed one of the knives. 'Made for show, not for use.'

'Aye,' said Meerkat, who had gained the other blade. 'But someone's put an edge to this one, sharp enough.'

'Let's dig down,' said Jon Arabin. 'Mayhap there's more metal below.'

They started digging. Promptly, three more creatures, which had been lying dog in the dark, tried to break out. This time the men moved faster. All three died.

What the men found underground was a chamber big enough to have held twenty barrels of wine or water. What it actually held was several nests of leaves and straw, some crude wooden fishing spears, nets for catching birds and fish, and a treasury of ancient objects in gold, glass and bronze.

While others pushed, shoved, slapped and bit, contending for the gold (and breaking the glass in the process) Drake secured himself a sword. Bronze was the sheath and bronze was the blade, both built for business and bare of ornament. Drake, as a steelworker, had always thought bronze soft stuff useless for weaponry. But this seemed stout enough. It was, in fact, copper alloyed with 10 per cent tin, which gives a bronze truly rugged enough for the rigours of war.

By the time the fighting had finished, Rolf Thelemite had a similar sword of bronze, as did Ish Ulpin, Ika Thole and Jon Disaster. They had secured these prizes easily while others contended for wealth – but now there was a clamour for a redistribution of weapons.

'Our swprdsmen have chosen themselves,' said Arabin. 'Aye, while you others greeded for gold like pigs at truffles. Look at me! Empty-handed! And why? Because I was kept so busy keeping the rest of you from killing each other.'

The protests died down and the dead creatures were skinned, roasted and eaten. But the little klude which Whale Mike had caught was neither cooked nor eaten, for the big man crept away from his companions, took the klude from his apron pocket, kissed it gently, thanked it for bringing him luck, then set it loose to run away happily into the wilderness.

That evening, Drake and Yot approached Whale Mike, who sat by himself feeding a little fire with twigs and broken branches. Everyone had enjoyed a decent meal, so it was time to try to convert Whale Mike to Goudanism. Drake was dreading it. Fortunately, he had a present to sweeten Mike's temper. After everyone else had finished investigating the animal burrow they had broken into, Drake had dug up the floor of that burrow, searching for buried treasure. He had found along, slim, immensely strong rod of what he thought was steel.

'What you got there?' said Mike, catching sight of the rod as Drake and Yot came near.

'A present for you,' said Drake. 'It's a giant's crowbar, by the looks of it.'

In fact the rod – which was made of titanium – was an axle from a Raflanderk IV All-Terrain Assault Vehicle. But Whale Mike was happy to have it regardless.'It's steel,' said Drake.

'This too light for steel,' said Whale Mike, hefting it. 'Also no rust. That strange.' He tested it. 'But strong. That nice. Good stuff.'Drake and Yot settled themselves by the fire.'Mike,' said Yot, 'do you like fire?'

'Sure,' said Mike. 'Fire good friend. Him got bad temper sometimes, but we all friends, we understand.'

'Well,' said Yot, taking a deep breath, 'I'm here to tell you about a special kind of fire. We call it the Flame. This Flame is a god. Not any god, but the Lord God of All Gods. Do you hear me?'

T got no ears,' said Mike. 'But I hear okay. You joker with god to share. But I not into that stuff. If some god so great, then him make us believe by god-magic. Not need thin boy with warts running round saying what what.'

'You don't understand,' said Yot earnestly. 'If our god forced us to believe in him, we'd have no free will. Our god works by giving us preachers to bring us the revealed truth. Gouda Muck is one of those preachers.'

'This not new thing,' said Mike. 'Many preacher talk god, say god most important. You know what most important? Woman with soft arse. That best thing. I get woman some day, nice woman, make baby. We have kids. That nice thing, you know?'

'Theology is more important than sex,' said Yot coldly. 'We have the truth. We have proofs. The Flame reveals itself everywhere through fire. The nature of god is to transform one thing to another, for creation is the essence of divinity, and transformation is the essence of creation.'

'Creation means making,' said Drake, who had picked up some of this religious lingo while walking the tunnel with Sully Yot. 'Transformation means change. Divinity means god, more or less.'

'You not dnly one speak Galish,' said Whale Mike. 'You got long word but not make much sense. Your god god because change things. That make something god? Man, my belly change things. Food to shit.'And Whale Mike laughed.