The room was filled with corpses, bodies of things Guerrand had never imagined in his worst nightmares. They floated in gigantic jars of pale blue liquid with their hair and limbs drifting eerily around them. Others were stuffed and mounted or strapped upright to boards. Two were laid out on tables, while a third- Guerrand could barely stand to glance at it-was flayed open on a table with its organs pulled out and spread around it like the petals of a hideous flower.
None of the creatures was recognizable, though all had familiar features: one was clearly part dog, another had the face and paws of a cat, a third seemed vaguely goatlike. Birds, snakes, even humans and elves, appeared in these monstrous shapes. Their bodies were twisted and misshapen, with distended limbs, exposed craniums, bloated eyes. But even these were not the worst. Others had tongues protruding directly from their stomachs, ears and mouths where they didn't belong, eyes horribly combined with other organs.
Guerrand's mouth was as dry as dust. He blathered under his breath. He turned to run and tripped over a heavy, cast-iron rod that looked like a bootjack near the door, pressing it to the ground in his fall. Scrambling back onto his feet, he heard a noise, like gears turning, at the far end of the chamber. Guerrand jumped back and hid behind the doorframe. Peering around it, he looked toward the sound and waited, heart hammering.
Pushing its way through the darkness beyond the torchlight was a living monstrosity. The bloody, one-eyed, six-limbed creature groped its way into the light. Countless more of the creatures followed behind. Within seconds, the far half of the room had filled with the living creatures. They slithered over the floor and flowed over the rotted corpses on the tables.
Beyond horrified, Guerrand could taste bile. Wanting only to get away before these things he'd unwittingly released saw him, he turned again to flee. His foot met squarely with Zagarus's feathered breast.
"Squawk!"
Both bird and man went sprawling. Stunned, Guerrand scrambled to his feet once more and looked hastily over his shoulder.
"Damn it, Zag," he muttered. "Why didn't you tell me you were there? Now they've seen us." Dozens of gore-covered eyes were rivetted on Guerrand's pale face. The apprentice turned yet again and ran, Zagarus flying after him.
I thought you would sense me. Besides, I was too stunned to speak. What are they?
Guerrand dashed through the laboratory. "I'm not sure, Zag," he said, still looking over his shoulder, "but I know I don't want them to catch me." He took the steps to the platform in one leap. Esme still lay against the wall, dozing fitfully, in shock from her broken leg. He shook her gently, then desperately, until her eyes finally rolled open.
They snapped wide at his frightened expression. "What's wrong? Did you find something?"
Guerrand looked over his shoulder and directed her gaze to the laboratory below the platform. The first hideous creature was just passing into the torchlight.
The thing stretched a fingerless limb toward them, then heaved itself forward again on oozing stumps. Its circular mouth opened and shut, revealing a pulsating gullet lined with teeth. Another shape appeared behind it, and tentacles reached around the first one to grip the doorway.
Esme pulled back instinctively, though her back was already against the wall. "What are they?" she gasped, repeating Zagarus's question.
"Failed experiments, maybe? They were trapped inside another room, and I literally tripped a lever that released them." Two of them had now advanced into the room, their mouths working soundlessly as they dragged themselves across the floor, eyes focused on the humans crouched in the corner. They circled around Belize's table, more joining them every moment. One crawled upon the table, snatched up an ink pot, and stuffed it into its horrid maw, crushing it. Another, a half-headed human with the hind legs of a dog, took up a quill and scratched at Belize's spellbook. Not one made a move toward Guerrand and Esme.
"I don't get it." Guerrand's brow was furrowed as he watched the creatures swarming over magical equipment, sending beakers and books crashing. "They don't seem to be interested in us, only in destroying Belize's laboratory."
"Are we just going to wait for them to remember us?" asked Esme. "Maybe we should make a move to get around them now, since I can't run with this stupid leg." She tested it anyway, sending bolts of pain to the break beneath her knee.
Guerrand's lips pursed. "We'd have to wade through them."
Excuse me, Rand, said Zagarus at his shoulder. I think I'd like to get back into my mirror now, where it's safe.
"Yeah, sure," Guerrand said distractedly, reaching into his pouch. His fingers froze around the mirror's cool surface, and he let it drop back into the bag. Leaping to his feet, he leaned over the steps at the edge of the platform, eyes searching for the large mirror from which Belize had broken his shard. They would be safe in there.
Guerrand moved back to where Esme and his familiar waited. "Zag," he said softly, "what do you think about when you enter my shard?"
The sea gull was startled by the question. I just dip my head and push my way in.
Esme grabbed at Guerrand's trouser leg. "What are you thinking, Rand?"
Guerrand swept the young woman up, arms under her legs, mindful of her broken one. His heart skipped a beat at her cry of pain. "We're all going into the mirror," he said. "Please, Esme, just close your eyes and trust me."
She searched Guerrand's face for only a moment before she hugged his neck and did as he asked.
Pulling Esme tight to his chest, Zagarus at his feet, Guerrand rushed down the steps. He followed the right wall, behind the shelves, until he came to the dusty, leather-edged looking glass. Mumbling a prayer to Lunitari, he instructed his reflected image to lift his right leg toward the mirror. His limb slipped through more easily than through water, and his foot found the ground within the mirror world. Straddling the glass, a foot on each side, Guerrand could see the milling monstrosities reflected behind him. Nestling Esme more tightly, he held his breath and stepped into the mirror without further hesitation.
His left foot landed on solid ground next to his right one. Cold, chilling mists roiled in semidarkness just past his waist, tickling at Esme's nose near Guerrand's chest. He settled her higher and began walking forward blindly, afraid the creatures might understand how to follow into the mirror, afraid to tell Esme of the fear.
"Zag?"
I'm here, Rand, the bird said reassuringly.
"Where are we?" Esme whispered.
"I don't know."
The young woman stiffened in his arms. "The herbs are wearing off. My leg aches like it's on fire."
Guerrand shifted her again. "I'll get you out of here soon," he promised, not sure how he would keep the vow.
What do you suppose would happen if we leaped into the shard in your pack? proposed Zagarus.
"Is this," Guerrand asked, "what it looks like inside my mirror?" Zag's beak bobbed. "Then I suspect we'd end up right back here. Belize's magical looking glass seems to be a portal to a mirror world."
So how do we get out?
"How do you get out?"
Zag cocked his head, as if in exasperation. You know how-you call to me. I simply follow your voice through the mist to the wall where it sounds the loudest. Then I just step through, knowing I'll come out of the shard.
Guerrand sighed. "We don't have anyone to call to us."
Esme was getting only half the conversation, since she couldn't hear Zagarus, so she was looking at Guerrand in frustration. He quickly told her what Zag had said.
Her brows knit. "You called this a 'mirror world,' which implies a vastness of scope. If your voice acts as a kind of map marker for Zag to follow, we'll just have to make our own sign that marks the way out."