Touching the huge front roller, still smooth and shiny after millennia, made him feel the same way.
"I'm going to dive down," he told the juggernaut, "and slip the rope under one end of your roller. Don't move."
Toede took a deep breath and submerged in the mire, feeling his way alongside the creature. The mud grew thicker and harder to move through as he plunged downward, but at last he touched the underside of the roller. He shoved the line underneath it and ran it up the interior curve of the creature's body.
The juggernaut remained inert, but Toede could feel a vibration that seemed to rise in intensity as he worked.
Finally, he surfaced, sputtering mud and wiping the thick grime from his eyes.
"What now?" asked Jugger, and Toede detected a sense of impatience in its voice.
"I'm getting on board," said Toede. He took the leading edge of the line that ran under the front roller, in his teeth, and climbed up the side of the creature. As he climbed, the mud slid off him in clumps. Toede looped the rope beneath the rocker arm holding the front roller, and now stood directly above the creature's face.
"Okay, give me a little power," said Toede.
He almost hurtled from his perch as the juggernaut lunged forward, but managed to grab hold of a cast iron eyebrow. Even so, he fell flat on his face and could taste blood.
"Enough!" he bellowed almost immediately. Jugger subsided.
The rope was looped around the front roller for two revolutions. Toede grabbed the leading end and pulled it to the back, dropping it in front of the rear roller. In the process, he noted a human skull jammed between the body and the roller cavity. Six-fifty-one, no doubt.
"Again!" shouted Toede, then immediately, "Stop!" Jugger's drive gave him about ten more yards of slack. "I have to get down to do your rear wheels. Do you move in reverse?"
He slipped back into the warm mud and repeated the process on the rear roller, tying it off so that the line would gather on the roller like a spindle or a winch. Toede pulled himself, grimy and exhausted, to the top of the creature again.
"You done?" grunted the juggernaut, sounding like metal under strain, raring to go.
"Yes," said Toede, tugging on the lines to make sure they were taut. "Okay," he said, "I want you to start your rollers slowly."
Jugger let loose with a mighty bellow and threw both rollers into "high." The hobgoblin almost went tumbling backward off the beast as it leapt forward.
The line grew taut and held. The column that it was attached to did not, however. It began to bow severely, pulling away from the wall in a staccato of stone.
The juggernaut edged forward as the front and rear rollers acted as winches, pulling it out. Toede was bellowing for the juggernaut to slow down before it hurt something. Like Toede.
If Jugger could hear, it wasn't listening. It only redoubled its effort. The column bulged farther outward, and the rope started to unravel in twangs of sundered strands.
It was only a question of which would go first.
The winner (such as it was) was the column, which erupted from the wall in a shower of granite shards and mortar.
Toede uttered a curse, thinking they would have to start all over. However, the toppling column fell forward, directly into the path of the moving juggernaut. Toede heard the granite boulders grate and crunch beneath the front wheels, and realized Jugger was really moving now, erupting from the cesspool.
That was when the business end of a whip cracked above Toede's head. The end of the rope had spun through the front roller and nearly severed the hobgoblin's head in its race to reach the back wheel. The juggernaut had climbed out of the mud and was crushing the millennia-old stairs to a fine powder, heading for the entrance. Toede ducked behind the large, flanged forehead of the beast.
"Y'okay, little breathing buddy?" asked the juggernaut, and Toede nodded. Then, unsure if the creature could see him, he said, "Fine. Watch out, the corridor ahead is flooded-u rgh!"
Water exploded before him as they hit the water-filled tunnel full tilt. Had the juggernaut had a sufficient running start, it possibly could have hydroplaned through, but as it was the water came up to its axles and was no impediment to its progress.
Thoroughly soaked, Toede peeked up from behind the rill of the creature's forehead. They had cleared the flooded section and were almost at the opposite end that Jugger had said the ogres…
Had sealed with stone.
Toede dove for cover as the juggernaut hit the stone plug faster than a diving dragon, and with greater effect. The impact slammed Toede toward the front as the rock before them opened up like soft mud. The sharply-angled features of the juggernaut's lupine "face" acted formidably as a plough. There was more grinding, and then the pair burst into bright afternoon sunlight.
"Hooowee!" shouted Jugger, and spun around the hill a few times, taking a gander at the outside world. "Things have gone downhill! Thanks, little living buddy, for springing us. You know, I really wanted to jellify you, back in there."
Toede patted the top of the creature's head. "Maybe that's one of the signs of nobility-the willingness to do damn-fool things that aren't in your best interest, in exchange for longer-term goals."
"Whatever," said the juggernaut, already crashing through the low underbrush. "Now, the question is, where are some other living sparks so I can make my quota, little living buddy?"
"I can take you there," Toede offered, smiling. "And if we're lucky there's one person in particular who will still be there. And do stop calling me 'little living buddy' I'm tired of people giving me long names. The name is Toede, and no jokes about it. Now head for the town to the east and watch out for the hiiiilllllll!"
Chapter 19
Bunniswot passed a filthy rag over his forehead and leaned into the shovel. After the argument, the stupid argument that unfortunately demonstrated to the gnolls that Renders and the rest of them were not powerful wizards, the gnolls had melted into the swamp, presumably to debate what to do next. The idea that they would be back with blood on their minds had set everyone into an honest, full-fledged panic. It was one thing to hear a rumor of attacking humanoids, another to see them up close, and then learn they are sfi7/ murderous, flesh-eating fiends.
Renders had gone out "to talk some sense into them," and taken two of the "boys" with him. The rest of the group had drifted off in groups of two and three, some fading into the swamp, some heading west to take their chances with the necromancer, and others trying to reach the main road before the gnolls closed it off. The horses had vaporized quickly in the first moments after the argument.
Bunniswot tried to organize some kind of defense, but to no avail. The only person who even listened was the other hobgoblin, the cook, when the young scholar told him to go fetch his friend, the dreamer called Underhill.
Now the cook was overdue; perhaps he had abandoned them as well.
Bunniswot decided that the best thing to do would be to dig up the old manuscripts, save the original rubbings, feed his notes into the fire, and see if he could smuggle the rubbings back to civilization. Even if they could not be published now, there might be a time for it in the future. To that end he had half the trench reexcavated-so that it was only about three feet deep and ten feet wide-and started a modest fire that was burning merrily. Bunniswot threw a small log on the blaze.
He was sweating more than he ever had in his life, and wondered if it was heat or fear that drove him. The late autumn sun was merciless. He passed the rag over his face, wincing as it touched the bloated, bruised side of his body where Charka had struck him. The bleeding from his nose had stopped, but the swelling in his face pounded with every beat of his heart.