As Mandes tried unsuccessfully to reach her, Tol and Kiya arrived, feet skidding as Mandes shouted at them to beware the pit.
Tol had a length of rawhide wrapped around his waist, a spare bridle for his horse. He dropped one end to Miya. She lifted her hands and grasped it, but couldn’t pull herself up-not with her broken ribs.
Tol made ready to go after her, but Kiya stopped him, announcing she would go.
Tol planted his fists on his hips. “For once in your life, will you do as I say?”
“Someday, husband, but not now.”
Kiya laid aside her bow and quiver, then tied the hide rope under her arms. With Tol and Mandes anchoring her, she backed over the rim of the pit, feeling for footholds with her bare toes. The two men grunted under the strain.
“Sulfur,” Mandes muttered, gasping with effort. “That smell. Must be molten rock down there.”
Tol played out the rope a little at a time. “How can rock be molten?” he asked, eyes streaming moisture from the stinging vapors.
“Same way metal can. Deep underground… is heat enough to melt solid stone.”
“Where does the heat come from?”
“Some say Reorx’s divine forge. Others-” The rope slipped. Mandes drew in breath with a sharp hiss, as the hard hide cut the palms of his hands, then continued, as though speaking to a student. “Others believe the heat… is a natural state of the deep places.”
The line went slack, and Kiya shouted she had arrived.
“Where do you stand on the matter?” asked Tol, looking over his shoulder at the wizard as they both relaxed momentarily.
Mandes carefully patted his sweating, blistered hands with a corner of his robe. “I await further evidence before ascribing to either theory,” he said.
On the ledge beneath them, Kiya pulled her sister briskly to a sitting position, ignoring Miya’s squawks of pain. She set to work tying the rope under Miya’s arms. Both women were coughing, their eyes streaming tears. Fumes rising from the depths enveloped them in a noxious fog.
Tol’s face suddenly appeared above them, eerily highlighted by the glow from the chasm.
“Quiet!” he hissed. “Something’s coming!”
“Something? Something? It’s that monster!” Miya exclaimed.
“Haul me up! Let me die fighting!” Kiya cried, but Tol’s face disappeared.
Tol and the wizard heard, far down the passage, a series of rapid clicks-the sound of hard-shelled feet on stone-and an occasional loud whirr. Tol had seen wasps vibrate their wings when they were angry. XimXim must know intruders were in his lair, and was probably furious.
Tol stood, slowly removing his crimson mantle. Stripping to his iron breastplate and leather trews, he kicked his clothing out of the way, then drew his sword and war dagger. He tossed the empty scabbard away “You don’t think you can fight that thing single-handed?” said Mandes. He was sitting on the tunnel floor rifling through his clothing.
“What else can we do? We have no escape, and I doubt it knows mercy.”
Mandes produced the four wax balls containing the Balm of Sirrion and half a dozen other objects: two dried clay pills the size of acorns, a speckled bird’s egg, two stoppered wooden tubes, and a small glass cruet sealed with red wax.
“The sum of my life’s work,” the wizard said drily.
Tol gripped his weapons hard, pondering the sum of his own life. What did he have? A chest of gold coins, an old house, and the patronage of the future emperor of Ergoth-a man married to the woman Tol loved. Was that all he’d accomplished in his short life?
“Tol!” Kiya shouted. “Don’t leave us down here! I want to fight too!”
“Aren’t you going to answer her?” asked Mandes.
“Not this time,” he said.
That was something else he had, the Dom-shu sisters. Wives in name only perhaps, hut faithful and honorable companions. He would do his best to die honorably for them.
The clatter of many limbs grew louder. Several times Tol thought he saw movement in the shadows, but could discern nothing tangible. The sulfur vapors were making his head and chest hurt. If XimXim simply waited, the fumes would do his work for him. Yet Tol doubted there was much danger of that. The monster enjoyed killing too much to miss an opportunity to cleanse his home of invaders.
The drifting streams of smoke suddenly parted, revealing an enormous triangular head, half as wide as the tunnel. In the dull ruddy glow and tight confines of the cave, XimXim looked even more monstrous. The black pupils in his huge eyes swung round until they fixed on the two men. Two pairs of sharp palps clacked, as though eager to taste blood.
Tol felt a sharp stab of fear in the pit of his stomach. He could face any number of human foes with equanimity, but this creature was an abomination, an unnatural and terrifying evil.
Mandes shakily fell to his knees. At first Tol thought he was praying, but the sorcerer was simply adopting a more convenient posture for throwing his tiny arsenal of balms and vapors.
XimXim made a high-pitched noise and drew his lethal forearms slowly forward.
“May I?” said Mandes politely.
“By all means!”
The wizard chose one of the wooden tubes. Pulling the plug with his teeth, he flung it toward the monster. As soon as it left his hand, he intoned, “Ama, Ama, Kozom-dosh!”
The tube hit the floor in front of the oncoming creature. At once a bright blue, viscous tendril popped out. It spread rapidly across the floor, sprouting new tendrils as it went. Surprised, XimXim halted his advance.
The azure creeper climbed the walls and formed a web of glittering filaments, filling the lower half of the tunnel. XimXim threw up an arm, intending to slash the web apart.
“That’s right,” Mandes muttered. “Touch it! Go ahead!”
XimXim did not slice through the tendrils. Instead, the filaments stuck fast to him and continued to grow, moving up his leg. He backed away. Although the blue web stretched with distance, it did not break. In no time, his front leg was covered.
“Wonderful!” shouted Tol, relief washing over him.
XimXim retreated a bit, but the weird substance clung to him. Instead of using his other arm to try to cut himself loose, he brought his entangled limb to his mouth and began to chew the blue tendrils.
Tol hoped the monster’s mouth would become glued shut, but that was not the case. The palps worked and worked. Saliva dripped from the fast-moving fangs. The blue tendrils were shortly reduced to bits which fell inertly to the floor.
While the monster was thus occupied, Tol decided to attack. Knowing he couldn’t break through XimXim’s natural armor, he adopted a new tactic.
“Keep it busy!” he shouted to Mandes.
He dodged between XimXim’s many legs, dropping low beneath the creature’s underbelly. Here the dark green armor faded almost to white. With both hands on the hilt, Tol thrust his sword hard at the monster’s abdomen. There was resistance for a moment, then the thin shell gave. Green blood, black as ink in the dim cave, gushed over Tol’s hands. XimXim snapped violently from side to side, tearing the saber from Tol’s hands.
Mandes picked up one of his Balm of Sirrion pills and pressed it lightly between his palms. Uttering an incantation, he rolled the soft wax pellet across the stone floor. It stopped just short of the blue web and dissolved into a patch of white mist.
Flexing his six legs, XimXim brought his ponderous abdomen down hard, seeking to crush his tormentor. Tol rolled aside, grabbing his sword hilt and yanking it free. The creature tried twice more to quash him, but Tol evaded him.
By now Mandes’s mist was filling the tunnel. In response to Kiya’s shouted demands, the magician retreated to the edge of the precipice and gave the Dom-shu a terse account of the battle.