"Oh!" Majestus Sinobe blurted upon going over. "Oh, oh. Oh my! You! You there in the front, up. Up, please! Oh, the angle. Oh, oh, the pain. Oh my, oh my, oh my. Do remember my invaluable part in the success of this quest. Careful! Careful, please."
Down the slope the Party went, desperately trying to keep on their feet despite the slime underfoot. To a man, they were successful, and glances over shoulders revealed to them a positive sign. While their speed was forcibly increased by their steep trajectory, the pursuing fire’s was not, which meant they were pulling away from it.
Happy as this discovery made them, their smiles faltered with the thought of reaching the slope’s bottom. At their ever increasing speed and the slipperiness of the floor, could they stay on their feet? Could they recover from the impact in time to keep the fire at a safe distance? With these questions in mind, they tried to slow themselves by back-peddling, but quickly realized it was a lost cause. The slime would not allow it.
The bottom came faster than expected, sending them stumbling, slipping and sliding along its flat surface. To their amazement, no one fell. Instead, they brought themselves to a stop in order to recapture their equilibrium. But they did not forget the approaching fire. Glancing back, they saw it was just a little over half way down the slope, which thrilled them and made them determined to maintain as much of the gained distance between them and it as possible.
So motivated, they quick-stepped in place numerous times before their feet caught traction, and they shot forward as fast as the slime would allow. Within a dozen steps they reached an incline not as steep as the slope, but steep enough. All looked back to see the fire reach the slope’s bottom and start across the flat ground toward them. They gulped, started up the incline.
Up three steps and back two steps, up three steps and back two steps they went, the fire blazing ever closer and closer… Oaths were breathed by some, prayers made to gods by others—and to their astonishment they reached the top safely, the fire still feet behind them. And more!
Not quite four yards ahead of them was a doorway dimly limned by daylight.
Ty the Parson did the quickest wild spin to a wide-legged stance, staff pointing ahead, they had ever seen, then he took off at a fair clip. The Party was right behind him, nonetheless, and a good thing they were, too. He plunged through the doorway and would have plunged into the pit beyond if Grash had not grabbed a fistful of his cloak, stopping him, a foot outstretched over the abyss… They had no time to give thanks he was saved, or utter their amazement at where they appeared to be. The approaching fire would not allow it.
They hurried through the doorway and along the ledge beyond—Ty the Parson, Grash and Orlon to the right, Tarl and Tarftenrott and their burden, and Shing and his burden to the left—just in time. With an earsplitting roar, the fire burst through the doorway in a great fireball. As quickly as it appeared the fireball was reduced to a frame of crackling fire around the doorway.
All but two gave silent thanks for being saved from a fiery demise.
"Oor shmooshong moo fooce," Expendendale said out the side of his mouth.
"Sorry," Shing said and relaxed his back-flush-to-the-wall, arms-outstretched stance.
"Oh, woe is me," Majestus Sinobe moaned. "Such terrible treatment of one whose invaluable contribution led to the quest’s success. Oh, oh. Oh! The tilt! The tilt is too much. The pain. The pain! You there, you there, up. Up, please. Oh, woe is me."
Tarl looked over his shoulder at Tarftenrott, and the mirror scowls on their faces told them they were of one mind. They tossed their burden off the ledge.
Everyone watched him fall, and Orlon alone was aghast at such an event.
Right before the magic man disappeared in the pool of darkness below he shot a long arm up, long finger pointing, and commanded, "Embarrassment!"
To a man, the Party lost control of their bladders.
XVI. Journey Home
Majestus Sinobe’s final command received the results it pronounced. Every cheek of those on the ledge was tinted red, and they averted their eyes from each other. Throats were cleared and collars tugged, and no one breathed too deeply, fearing of what they might smell in evidence of their uncontrolled deed. And for Tarl Bimbo it led to an exclamation:
"E-gad!"
What brought this extra reaction from him was memory of the inches tall girl stuffed in his pocket during the slaughter of the little people. That he wet his pants was embarrassing enough, but that he had subjected her to such a soaking was humiliating. He reached into his pocket—and his hand went straight through to his damp thigh. He blinked. By the feel of it she had bitten through the pocket threads and escaped down his leg somewhere along the way.
He was relieved she escaped this humiliating incident, sad at the loss of opportunity for a little…action with her and disgusted at the dampness his hand had been subjected to. With a quietly stated "E-yuck;" he pulled his hand from his pocket and wiped it front and back on his shirt. Then he felt the eyes upon him, brought on, he knew, by his exclamation. Feeling his cheeks heat up, he met their stare with a crooked smile and nervous giggle.
"I—I don’t remember," he said, indicating the fire framed doorway with his just-wiped-off hand, "passing this doorway on the way down this ledge."
Thankful as he was to draw their attention away from himself, he had no idea how thankful they were to have their attention drawn away not only from him but their own ill at ease situation. They were reminded of what the chasing fire had taken away, their chance to consider upon reaching the ledge. They looked around to find they were, in fact, on the ledge they had followed into the volcanic mountain, and no one remembered passing a doorway either.
A question popped into their heads. Could the turning of the candle shelf have opened this doorway as well? This question led to another. If that was true, why had it not closed like the other when the candle righted itself? But they had no time to seek answers to these questions.
"Race horses round the final turn to the home stretch! The late night walker’s eerie feeling he is being followed! We have reached the final expanse we must traverse to leave this mountain. There is no time to waste if we wish to escape the evil lurking within its dark places," Ty the Parson said in a flail of limbs, and he started up the ledge.
Grash and Orlon took off after him. Shing, Tarl and Tarftenrott skirted the fire framed doorway and hurried after them.
Round and round and round they went up the ledge and walking into the light rather than into darkness filled them with enthusiasm. No matter how uplifted their spirits, however, they could not deny the weariness of their limbs. Of all the ordeals they suffered within the mountain, the most tiring was trudging—running for their lives through the slimy tunnels. The upward slant of the ledge was enough to cramp their aching leg muscles, but the increasing daylight and corresponding warmth kept them moving.
There was no one more grateful to be exiting the volcanic mountain than Orlon. He wanted to see the whole wide world again, to witness the results of his having saved it from the clutches of evil Tibtarni—whatever. He caught his breath in anticipation…. What wonders would his eyes see in reward for his harrowing deed?
Up they walked, up and up. Round and round they went, and with each go-round the brighter and warmer it got. It was obvious the daylight they entered was of the very late afternoon variety, which left them wondering just how far they could get away from the mountain before darkness consumed them. The thought of spending a night sleeping on the ground did not sound good to them. To a man, the image of Talbortale’s Hotel popped into their minds.