“The cave of amber is only four miles from here, Holiness,” said Varen, eyes lowered so Beldinas’s light wouldn’t hurt them. “I’m sure he won’t be far.”
“No,” the Lightbringer replied, “he won’t be.”
Tithian’s scalp prickled again. Unbidden, his hand moved to the hilt of his sword. To his right, he heard an intake of breath.
“You feel it too?” he murmured, his eyes flicking in that direction. “What is it?”
Sir Bron’s nose wrinkled, his lips skinning back from large teeth. He was gripping his sword, too-had bared two inches of its blade, his other hand tightening about his palfrey’s reins. “I’m not-wait,” he said, and looked down. “Gods bite me.”
Tithian followed his gaze and uttered a quiet oath. The ground was moving, just slightly-the rocks shifting and the sand aquiver beneath his horse’s hooves. He yanked his sword free a moment before Bron did, sounds echoing off the cliffs. A chorus of ringing steel followed as the other knights drew their blades without knowing why. Tithian wheeled his horse toward Beldinas’s golden chariot, his heart stopping as he saw the sand beneath it start to bulge.
“Holiness!” he cried, digging in his spurs.
He was a moment too late. Beldinas was just turning to face him when the ground erupted in a great fountain of sand. The chariot leapt into the air, the draft-horses screaming as it pulled them up with it, then it tilted and came crashing down again on its side. There was a terrible splintering, and Beldinas tumbled free, sprawling face-first onto the ground. All around, men and women cried out in horror to see him fall-and then again when they saw what had caused the accident.
It was maggot-pale, a tremendous worm with hooked claws bristling at its sides. A small forest of tentacles-translucent white flesh showing the blue of veins beneath-writhed on its front end, making wet sounds as they lashed the air. Amidst them, a great maw opened like a horrid flower, its inner edges ringed with rows of sharp teeth. It rose ten feet out of the hole where the Lightbringer’s chariot had been, coiling in midair as everyone gawked at it.
Everyone but the Kingpriest. He lay still, knocked out by his fall. Tithian leapt from his saddle, landing hard on the unsteady ground, and ran to Beldinas’s side. Bron joined him, and so did three other knights who were nearby; together they formed a ring of steel about the glowing, motionless form. Tithian swiped at a tentacle that came close to him, his blade whistling through the air.
‘To me!” he called. “Protect the Lightbringer!”
His men responded with admirable speed, and some of the clergy did too, brandishing maces and iron-shod staffs. Other clerics scattered, screaming. On the far side, Rath MarSevrin had drawn a slender, curved saber and stood protectively while Tancred hurried their mother away from the white worm. Closer still, Varen stood stiff, paralyzed by fear or fascination in the monster’s shadow.
“Get away!” Tithian shouted at him. “Move, or-”
Again, too late. Varen blinked, looking at him, then shrieked in terror as two tentacles shot down, catching him about his chest and knees. They wrapped around and around, tightening so that Tithian heard the scholar’s bones grind together. With a yelp, the monster jerked Varen off his feet and hauled him up, high above the ground. He fell silent, the breath squeezed out of him so that all he could do was flail uselessly with his fists. There was no breaking the creature’s grip, however-or stopping the two tentacles from pulling in opposite directions. With a wet popping sound, they tore Varen apart was torn in half at the waist.
Blood poured down, onto the worm’s pallid flesh and onto the ground. Tithian could only stare in horror as the creature crammed first one half of the scholar, then the other, into its greedy maw.
Someone vomited noisily somewhere behind Tithian. He hoped it wasn’t one of his men, but he himself could taste bile, and beside him, Bron’s face was the color of a corpse’s.
“Hold,” Tithian commanded, watching the worm, waiting to see what it would do next. Something red and ragged snagged on one of its teeth. Tentacles wriggled in the air like a nest of serpents. Then, with a noise like a deflating bellows, it pulled itself back beneath the ground and disappeared from sight.
A couple of the priests shouted in joy, but the knights stayed wary. Tithian had taught them well; they knew the danger hadn’t passed. He glanced down at the Lightbringer, still out cold, and waved his men near.
“Get him up off the ground!” he barked. “Quickly!” They obeyed without hesitation, four of them sheathing their swords to pull Beldinas up and started toward the nearest canyon wall. They were just in time, for the sand where the Kingpriest had lain began to roil like a boiling caldron.
When the first tentacles broke from the ground, Tithian and Bron were ready. Steel sliced the air, then found flesh; greasy black blood sprayed as two of the monster’s limbs fell on the ground. It made a terrible howling noise, and six more tentacles burst forth, lashing the air. One caught Bron full in the chest, knocking him ten feet through the air to land in a clattering heap next to Beldinas’s fallen chariot; Tithian ducked two more, managing to cut the tip off a third-then grunted in pain as another caught him about his sword arm.
The pain was excruciating. The monster was doing its best to reduce his wrist-bones to splinters. His sword fell from his grip as the worm began to pull him off his feet. Gritting his teeth, Tithian reached to his belt, jerked a long-bladed dagger from its sheath, and drove it point-first into the tentacle.
The ichor that splashed his face tasted like rancid meat, and he spat furiously as the beast let him fall back onto the sand. Tithian left his dagger embedded in the tentacle, scrambling to get sword back. When he turned to look again, though, the worm was gone, pulled back underground yet again.
The priests were clambering up the hillsides now, the stragglers goaded on by his men. Some forked their fingers at the blasted sand where Varen had died, calling the creature Catyrpelio after a folk-tale beast that dwelt in the Abyss and feasted on the blood of doomed souls. Bron struggled back to his feet, wheezing, his breastplate sporting a sizable dent. The knights carrying Beldinas struggled toward safety-then stumbled and fell when the ground again lurched beneath them. One howled in agony as a tentacle caught him and dragged him down under the ground. His fellows could only gape as he disappeared from sight.
The Kingpriest was down again too, the knights struggling to pick him up. Tithian sprinted toward them, legs burning, half-expecting to see the toothy maw rise up beneath Beldinas’s form. Where was it?
Then he heard it again, … behind him, on the far side of the chariot… he heard the blast of sand, and the rasping screech it made as it rose up out of the ground … shouts and screams…
The MarSevrins.
He turned in time to see the worm towering above Lady Wentha and Tancred and Rath, the last raising his saber to protect his family, brave foolish boy. He managed to take off two more tentacles, slash-slash, but more than a dozen remained, and one smote him in the side, sending him sprawling. Wentha cried out as her younger son fell, then caught the elder as Tancred as he stepped forward, trying to get himself between her and the worm.
“No!” Tithian yelled, running at the monster.
Later, when he sorted out his memories of the fight, he still wasn’t sure where the white figure had come from. It was just there, all of a sudden, robes and long beard flying as it threw itself at the worm. Tarsian steel glistened as a sword lopped off three tentacles darting toward Lady Wentha. With a hoarse, bloodthirsty roar, the figure-the man-spun and slashed at the worm’s belly, opening a reeking gash and making it shriek loud enough to shatter crystal.