"E-gad," Sharna blurted, lunging forward. "Orlon, look out."
What had once been Shibtarr snapped its jowls on thin air, as Sharna pulled the Midget clear and stumbling back into Ty the Parson. In the next few seconds she performed a fantastic feat for such close quarters. She drew her saber and lopped off the creature’s head, and stooped to take up the torch, but before she could rejoin her compatriots, a horde of Eunuchs swarmed through the doorway, separating her from the others.
Shing jumped forward, meeting the wave of loinless creatures with wall-to-wall sweeps of his magnificent sword. Despite the number of Eunuchs losing their heads to broadsword or saber, the nonstop inflow of the creatures pushed Sharna and the Party farther and farther apart.
"Here," she said and tossed the torch to the Oriental Ranger.
Back, back and back they were pushed down the tunnel, Shing’s sweeping broadsword the only thing between them and disaster. And Orlon had eyes only for Sharna, seen over the writhing, shoving and snapping Eunuchs, saving herself from danger with swings of her saber, so far away and growing farther and farther… Then Tarftenrott splished into the slimy hall—and Sharna fell through the rectangle of daylight, her scream fading as she fell.
"Sharna," Orlon gasped in agony.
Suddenly his attention shifted to their present problem, when he nearly fell back into the slime coated tunnel.
"The thief quickly exits the scene of the crime when the law arrives! We must run," Ty the Parson said, limbs flailing, "now!"
Led by the Parson, they took off down the tunnel as fast as the slime allowed, leaving the Oriental Ranger alone to face the pressing danger of the Eunuchs in the side tunnel. The light of the torch gave them a view of the green slime that caked the roof, walls and floor of their avenue of escape. The curve of the tunnel soon took the light away from them. Ty the Parson brought them to a stop in the darkness, and they waited.
Shing stood in the doorway, swinging sword in one hand, torch in the other. He shot a glance over his shoulder before splashing back a couple of steps into the tunnel. The battle was a lost cause, and he knew his only choice to escape it was to do something dramatic, and run.
That dramatic act turned out to be a swap from broadsword to torch as his weapon. The surprise of this dramatic act not only affected the loinless creatures, but Shing as well. He swept the torch from door frame to door frame, and when the wavy flame touched the slime, it ignited. With an oath, he threw the torch at the base of the doorway, causing a burst of fire that burned the faces of the lunging Eunuchs. He ran.
Hot on his heels, the fire followed him.
Hearing Shing’s oath did not concern those waiting in the darkness much. What else could be expected when facing so many loin seeking creatures? Hearing the splish, splash of his running feet and seeing the approaching light did not concern them much either. Again, what else could be expected? What did concern them was Expendendale’s panic filled screaming, "Hot, hot, hot…" And behind his screaming, a roaring that reminded them of an out of control fire.
As the Oriental Ranger came hot footing it around the curve, followed by the quickly igniting slime, the Party, to a man, dropped their jaws, eyes bugging.
"Run," Shing yelled. "Run!"
They did, and they ran as much from Shing as the fire that trailed him by no more than two feet. The tunnel turned this way and that, twice offering them a choice of going left or right, both times their choice to go right. A turn left them facing a steep incline which they took to with gusto, slipping and sliding in the slime. Half way up it, Shing caught up with them, as did the fire behind him.
"Hot, hot, hot," continued Expendendale’s panicked screaming.
"Oh my! Oh my, oh my, oh my. The heat. The heat!" Majestus Sinobe added the chasing fire to his repertoire of concerns over his wellbeing in the hands of those carrying him. "Oh, oh. Oh! All the jigging, the tilting, the bouncing—the pain! Careful. Careful. And hurry. Hurry, please! I’m burning up. Oh my! Hurry before I burn up."
With cries of relief, they reached the incline’s top and took off along a curving length of the tunnel, the fire right behind them.
Orlon was a mixed bag of emotions. He marveled at the way Expendendale and Majestus Sinobe were able to keep up their endless chatter. It was hard enough for him simply to take in a breath of the stinky air, much more so to gasp it in as his great physical effort required him to do, without upchucking. How they could keep it up was beyond him, though upon reconsidering the broken warrior’s situation, he might could see how in his case.
Then there was his fear of their present situation. Suddenly the idea of wandering lost through these tunnels until starvation overtook them did not sound so bad, in comparison to burning alive…. His mind turned back to Sharna dropping the ever burning candle into the slime when she jumped through the opening. How it had gone out! He shrugged the thought off. All he knew was he would rather starve to death than burn. What child had not learned the agony of fire? Memory of the irresistible-to-five-year-old-eyes pot over the fire made him suck on his right hand fingers.
He was worried he would not be able to keep up this pace much longer. All that walking to the volcanic mountain had taken its toll on him. And though he was carried up the mountain by Shing…though he was not involved in the battle with the Eunuchs, it had all proved physically draining in more ways than one. Even the wait outside Tibtarnitallimardarian’s door had worn him out, as had performing his duty to save the world from the evil being’s clutches after.
So, too, he found his sorrow over his self proclaimed protector’s demise weighed heavily on his weary shoulders. The pang he felt in his heart was so intense he was surprised it continued to beat—and such a feeling left him utterly confused.
A confusing feeling he had no time to contemplate when a memory and wish brought him a flash of guilt. He remembered how Sharna snatched him up and ran, saving him from the crumbling bridge. Oh, how he wished she were here to snatch him up and run now… That he would think of something she could do to benefit him after her death was unconscionable. His mind turned to his best friend, lugging his own burden, and his guilt increased tenfold.
Tarl felt two things: thankfulness and exasperation.
There was no denying he was thankful for Tarftenrott’s assistance with the stretcher, but he was most thankful the warrior carried the back end, putting a stretcher length between the Midget and the pursuing fire. Plus, their positions gave him an alarm, stuttering or not, to impending danger, and he knew if danger came he could drop the stretcher and run like the wind. Pudgy though he was, he had always been known as a good runner.
His exasperation came twofold. First, he was exasperated that he had been stuck lugging the injured loudmouth around when the Eunuchs cut off their escape from this stinking tunnel. If he had been able to arm himself with his trusty sword "Wasp," he might have assisted in breaking through the horde of loin seeking critters. Second, there was the ear aching fact Majestus Sinobe’s complaints never stopped.
"Will you shut up," he hollered over his shoulder, and when he brought his attention back to what lay ahead his jaw dropped.
One by one those in front of him dropped out of sight—and just as he realized why, before he could give warning to Tarftenrott, he slipped over the drop off. That it was not a vertical drop was a blessing, but the steep slope he quick-stepped, slipped and slid down proved worry enough. The stretcher jammed into his back did not help in his struggle to keep himself on his feet.