Stories » The Gorren 1 » 2
Garvan was seated on a stone, with the rest of the company, set at ease, lying or sitting about him. Several were by the young knight of Berithian forced to turn back, who sat with his head between his knees. Holt’s other companion saluted, then sank thankfully to the ground at Garvan’s signal. Holt remained standing, but he wiped his hands and took a mouthful of water before he spoke.
“We believe the creature is within, sir, and probably asleep,” he reported.
“So we might take it sleeping,” Garvan said. “But you have been close. What do you recommend?”
“Not to go in, sir,” Holt replied. “The creature lies deep. In the dark, not knowing even what like it is, our disadvantage would be grave. That is, even if any of us could come to it. I shouldn’t care to answer for myself in that place.”
“It must be worse than Krasim’s gangrel-pits, then,” Garvan observed.
“Worse even than his sewers,” Holt replied. “It must be a sink of venom.”
“We must force it into the open,” Garvan said. “Penarc?”
“Old Hamar, here, sir, has smoked out as many foxes as I have shorn sheep,” Penarc said.
“Then Hamar shall direct us,” Garvan decided. “Let us make haste, to draw the beast out in daylight.”
They gathered grass, brushwood and green fronds of bracken, placing them in two great piles below and to the windward side of the cavern, according to Hamar’s instructions. The old man could bear the place better than most, after a lifetime breathing his noisome smoke, but many were overcome, some unable to carry even one load to the cave-mouth. These Garvan sent on Hamar’s advice to search for other exits, but all returned within the hour having found nothing within two miles’ radius. So all was done at the one entrance.
“We shall trust the beast will find no other way of escape,” Garvan said to Holt. “If it does, I daresay we shall know of it before long.”
Soon all was ready. They kept the horses above the rock-buttress, blinkered and tethered fast. It was already plain they would be no use in the combat, for the stench had set them shivering with fear. Holt would have trusted Brandysnap, but decided not to mount alone. The horses might prove useful later, to pursue the beast if it showed speed in flight.
They took up their positions under Garvan’s direction. Those that could bear it were stationed near the cavern, to turn the beast downhill and prevent it gaining the open ground of the plateau above. The rest were stationed further down the steep slope, among great slabs that had fallen from the cliff. All had wound scarves about nose and mouth, save the Rockman who scorned such protection, saying it would be shame for one of Duergh race to falter at a bad smell. Holt hoped he would not have cause to regret his decision later. From a ledge high above, Minx watched the dispositions; she had come with them, but kept well out of the way. This prey was too much for her to harry. When all were in their places, Hamar kindled his fires. At first they burned with a clear flame and little smoke, but once the green bracken was added began to produc choking fumes. Blown by the wind and fanned by Hamar’s cloak, these began to penetrate the tunnel to the beast’s lair.
For some time nothing happened. The smoke billowed up and was swallowed in silence by the black hole. Then the stones began to shake at a distant sound. The noise grew, until the crags trembled, rocks began to tumble and bushes shivered like aspens. Several of the herders threw themselves on their faces and covered their ears. Suddenly the cave-mouth was no longer black, but filled with hideous light. With a trumpeting scream that emitted a cloud of venom, the beast came. It poured from its hole like some huge obscene slug, greenish-black above like mouldered walls of a decaying house, toadstool-pale beneath. It had no legs, but moved upon its belly like a snake. Its mouth opened wide to show the cruel grinding plates and glutinous black tongue ready to grasp its prey; its eyes were furled upon two jointed horns. As it emerged the horns began to lengthen.
“It is a Gorren!” Donath shouted. “Now Tiryn preserve us! Beware its eyes!” The men scattered, all but three who remained in its path, transfixed with horror perhaps, or overcome by its vile breath. Lightning rent the air as the Gorren unsheathed its eyes. Brilliance unbearable glared upon the rocks, and even those that fled stumbled. The three who stood near fell blasted to the ground. The Gorren gave a hissing roar, as though a serpent might have acquired the voice of a lion, but did not pause to seize any of the fallen. It sought not prey, but vengeance to annihilate these vermin that had dared pollute its rest. There would be time for feasting when all were slain. It ploughed on, crushing the body of one man that lay in its path, pursuing those that fled, covering their eyes, in among the crevices of the rocks.
Holt, positioned further down the slope, signalled to his men to remain in cover until he saw which way the beast was headed, then led them out to assault its flanks. Garvan, seeing what he was about, heaved a sigh of relief and betook himself to the wounded. Shortly, those that had fled found their way back. A few that were hurt or shocked past recovery he kept with him. The rest he sent after Holt, now pacing the beast as it raged onward. Of the three men who had fallen, one was dead, crushed under the Gorren’s onslaught; the others were past hope, the skin burned off their faces, and both were blind.
Victory's price: will Holt be the one to pay? Next page »
Stories « The Gorren 1 « 2
