CHAPTER TEN
Ricci
was not happy being a snake. That is to say, he was not happy being this particular
snake. A little snake would have sufficed. But, no, it was big, and not even pretty.
Moreover, it appeared to have a mind of its own since he was finding it
extremely difficult to manoeuvre different parts of the elongated body that
kept swaying this way and that. Even so,
he had escaped the Krills and must count his blessings. Now, at least, he
could…Do what, exactly? Get help? Where do I go for help? Who is going
to help us anyway? He had already tried making mind contact with Astor, and
failed miserably.
He sighed. That is, he meant to sigh but was only able
to produce a noisy rattle. The ghastly sound made him start to the extent that his
snake body first quivered its entire length before flying into a frantic coil that
poor Ricci was quite unable to control and which nearly strangled him.
Uncoiling took a while, and considerable concentration. Afterwards, he
continued to fret. Why was it, he asked himself, as he had a thousand times, that
adopting the shape of bird, beast, reptile or whatever did not necessarily lend
him immediate access to the very best of its natural faculties? He had put the
question to Astor, of course, more than once. Astor, though, had simply
remarked that he still had a lot to learn. Ricci almost sighed again, thought
better of it, and settled instead for staying annoyed with Astor. What the devil use is a mentor who doesn’t
mentor properly? Aggrievedly, the snake stretched to its full length, but
not for long as Ricci’s train of thought was rudely interrupted by a
blood-curdling yell.
Ricci slithered to a nearby ledge that gave him a
grandstand view of what was happening below and did not like what he saw. The
surly Nu-gen, Mulac, was trying to take on the band of Krills singlehanded. Naturally, it was a lost cause from the start
and he was soon overcome by a sneaky blow from Radik who had crept up behind
him. Bethan, Ricci was relieved to see,
had surrendered to the inevitable, but was now showing more concern for the
Nu-gen’s fate than her own. Ricci adroitly wriggled to express further
irritation. The relationship between these two was incomprehensible to the point
of sacrilege. She’s a Keeper, for Ri’s
sake, and he’s…Well, being Nu-gen says it all. At the same time, Ricci
began to panic as the hopelessness of their situation made him nauseous. Astor
had placed them in his care, after all. They were his, Ricci’s responsibility. Let’s face it. Being a snake has its limitations.
Unable to summon a vestige of optimism, Ricci slithered down the rock face
and into the Krill camp, taking care to avoid being trodden on.
For a while, Ricci just watched and waited, although
if he had been asked for what, exactly, he would have been at a loss to reply. He
took great pleasure in letting rip with a long if subdued hiss when Arissa
appeared. He had never trusted the female. The fact that she was clearly on
very familiar terms with Radik came as no surprise either. I’d
have put nothing past this one…
The appearance of a kikiri, however, gave Ricci such a
shock that he almost jumped out of his snake skin especially when it then
proceeded to lead the captives out of the camp as if they were invisible. A kikiri here, of all places, and making
itself useful…? How can this be? It is unheard of. He was about to follow
them when the two Krills meant to be guarding the captives caught his
attention. Their backs to the cave wall,
they were plainly oblivious to the escape. Nor did anyone else exhibit any
signs of raising the alarm. Most peculiar,
I’ll say!
“Why do you suppose Radik wants them anyway?” one was
asking.
The other shrugged. “To get us across the lake is my
guess/”
“Dom-y-Baba...?”
“Yes, Doom Lake, and well named. It can’t be far now and
the monster will be sure to demand
payment. What could be better than fresh meat?”
“One is a Motherworlder though...” The first Krill
sounded doubtful. .
The second Krill shrugged again. “Meat is meat, and
everyone knows no meat tastes better than human, whatever its source. Ask any
druid if you don’t believe me,” he added with a cackle that made Ricci’s blood
run cold. It had been rumoured that druids as well as Krills loved to feast on
human flesh for as many lifetimes as he could recall.
It was at that moment Radik and Arissa chose to emerge
from the makeshift tent where their animated silhouettes and raised voices had demonstrated
to just about everyone present, not least Ricci, that it was the Krill leader
who danced to Arissa’s tune not the other way round. Ricci permitted himself
another long, low hiss. The elf, Pers,
was not alone in being bewitched by this devilish female. What is her plan? What is she after? Whatever, it bodes ill for all of
us, I’ll say!
Ricci looked
around and spotted the elf cowering in shadows near the place where the captives
had been only moments before. He looked around again, but there was no sign of
Tol, Strange... But Ricci barely had
time to reflect on the gentle giant’s absence when Radik let out a shriek of
rage that almost sent him flying into another hysterical coil. As it was, it
took every last drop of concentration to impose his will on the snake body. He
succeeded, but at the cost of an excruciating headache. Oh, my poor head, it is positively swimming. He longed to put a
comforting hand to his throbbing head, but of course he couldn’t. This is ridiculous. No hands, no feet…What
am I supposed to do, for Ri’s sake, moult?
“Idiots,! You call yourselves sentries?” Radik was
demanding of the two hapless Krills whose responsibility it had been to guard the
captives. “My great-grandmother could
have done a better job!” he screamed, waving a deadly blade in their faces. It
was to their credit, thought Ricci, that they neither moved a muscle nor did
their faces betray any expression other than a dutiful blandness.
“Great-grandmother…?” Arissa murmured absently, but
audibly, “I never knew you had one. Or even a mother, for that matter…” But the
Krill leader was in no mood for her sarcasm. He was used to it if inclined to
mistake it for the kind of banter in which lovers had indulged since the
beginning of time. On this occasion, though, he chose to ignore her, forgetting
in his rage, that being ignored was something a female with an ego as volcanic
as Arissa’s would not tolerate lightly. “Can this be my brave Radik throwing such
a tantrum?” she said quietly, yet once again loud enough for everyone to hear.
“That our guests have departed is regrettable, I agree, and a mystery. But what
is done is done. At times like this, my dear Radik, a leader needs to keep his
head, not lose it. In your case, using
it for once might also help,” she added scathingly before heaving an
exaggerated sigh followed by, “I have to say, Radik, I am fast becoming weary
of always having to think for both of us.”
Radik scowled. No match for Arissa in this mood, he
had to be content with slitting the throats of both sentries before asking in a
tone that anyone but Arissa would have found intimidating, “So why should I
care that we have lost the Keeper when I’m sure you have a plan to recover her
and that dim-witted Nu-gen?”
“No plan, Radik, simply that we give pursuit without
delay rather than stand around wringing our hands like washerwomen caught in a
rainstorm.”
Radik glared. What
kind of female is this that drives me to slit the throats of two of our band which,
Ri knows, is small enough. Yet, she does not say a word or even appear to
notice? But Radik was not the fool Arissa took him for, and kept a tight
rein on his temper, easily enough now that he had spilled blood. Indeed, the
parody of a smile that lit his battered features might almost have been
interpreted as subservience. “You are right, of course. They cannot have made
much ground so we should catch them before they reach Dom-y-Baba. The Nu-gen is
expendable, of course, but we dare not risk losing Bethan, Keeper. She is,
after all, the key to Mamelon’s future, and ours.
“Perhaps,” said Arissa thoughtfully. Let us hope so,
my Radik, “she purred, “but we must make haste. The Kurzl cares not for such
things, only his appetite. Let us hope he has a taste for Nu-gen. Pers, you
will see to the tent, and have a care with my things,” she called imperiously
to the besotted elf without even bothering to look for him.
Dom-y-Baba,
Lake of Doom…Oh, my goodness. Ricci
began to panic yet again. It did not help to discover that he had been under an
illusion that snakes could travel at speed. Progress was slow as he slithered
away from the Krill camp, undecided whether to try and change into a bat or
revert to his natural form. Bats can fly,
but would I get the hang of their peculiar nervous system? Oh, dear, oh, dear,
oh, dear…
Coming to a fork in the tunnel did not help ease poor Ricci’s
growing frustration. Instinct suggested he take the left, and then he thought
he heard voices, albeit faint echoes, farther down on the right so slid hopefully
in that direction. Oh, what I wouldn’t give for a pair of legs. For now, though, he
decided, it may well prove useful to remain a snake. Besides, he could not for
the life of him recall a spell for bats.
He had not travelled as far as he expected before
Ricci found himself peering down from a ledge at Ygor and his robed followers. Their
presence came as no surprise, but what stunned poor Ricci was the sight of an inert form laid out on a
makeshift litter that two Robed Ones were carrying. Michal! Trust a druid to get his greedy hands on one of the bloodline.
I daresay he has a plan to snare Keeper Bethan too. For an instant, his eyes narrowed under
the snake hood, exuding a malevolence to which his host body was no stranger.
Ricci, though, was by nature a kind soul. Moreover, his hatred of druids
smacked of disloyalty to his master. Astor may well be the finest of mages and
beyond reproach, but that did not make him any less a druid. Indeed, Ricci
never ceased to wonder at the love he felt for Astor. Nor had he questioned that
love since entering Astor’s service so long ago that he could scarce recall the
circumstances, a love greater even than the intense loathing he felt for Ygor
and his rogue band. By comparison, his feelings towards Radik were almost
benign if less so regarding Arissa.
Ricci’s jumbled thoughts and mixed feelings suddenly
cleared and proceeded to focus upon one thing. Oh, my goodness, Dom-y-Baba.
But Ygor would never sacrifice one of the bloodline to the Kurzl,
surely? Michal was too important. Without Michal, no one could enter the Tomb
of the Creator even assuming they should ever discover it among the maze of
tunnels and yawning caverns that had played host to Foss and other hybrid
beings for as many lifetimes as the mountains themselves had stood. In his mind’s eye, he pictured the key he had
worn on a chain around his neck, now safely insinuated into the snake’s body
patterns and indistinguishable from a variety of colourful markings. They cannot do anything without it, none of
them, Ricci reflected with pride, and
I will surrender it to no one but the rightful Ruler of Mamelon. Yet, as he
looked askance upon the Motherworlder’s pale face, he could not help but wonder
if it was already too late.
Where is
Astor, whenever I need him most? Not
the first time, Ricci’s devotion to the White Mage was sorely tested as he
struggled to decide on the best course of action. I must get to the lake, and hopefully catch up with Bethan and the
Nu-gen along the way. Oh, but suppose they arrive and the Kurzl…Panic
threatened another near suffocating coiling-up, more than enough to calm even
Ricci. He wondered if the druids were aware the lake had dried up and all that
was left was a sprawling bed of red sand. As for the Kurzl, some stories
suggested it had made its way to the Sea of Marmela while others insisted it continued
to live where it had dwelt since Ri created the mountains, ever poised to make
a kill, creating quicksand to draw being or beast into its lair.
A
vision of Bethan, Keeper, being sucked into the jaws of the Kurzl loomed in
Ricci’s graphic imagination. Oh, my, oh
my…There was no time to waste.
Struggling in vain to recall a spell for bats, he wriggled away as fast
as he could.
