Castle for Rent

Twenty-three Keep — Near the Well Tower

Kwip had been a thief most of his life, having apprenticed himself as a youngster by stealing fruit from hucksters’ wagons in Market Square, in the town of Dunwiddin, his home. He recalled many a merry chase through the streets, keeping a half-step ahead of the constable and his men. Hardly fond memories. The life of a thief was bleak indeed; and it had never been bleaker the night he had paced his cell waiting for the hangman’s noose at dawn.

Bleak, dark night of the soul. Night, as well, of his liberation. For a miracle had occurred. The far wall of the cell had disappeared, become a doorway into a great castle, one such as he had never seen or even dreamed of.

Better yet, here in this grand and mysterious place he was free to pursue his occupation amazingly unhindered, so it would seem, by the authorities.

Which detracted from the fun somewhat, he had to admit.

But there was a catch. Aye, a pip of a one. There was nothing in the damnable place. There was not a garnet, not a fleck of amethyst, nor a gram of silver to be found in the entire castle, much less diamonds, rubies, or gold; leastwise, there was none he could discover. The blasted sconces were brass!

But the food was fit for princes, and it cost nothing for a man to eat his fill and drink himself to stupefaction. The Guests, by and large, tended to be pleasant when they weren’t minding their own business. Broadly speaking, the castle was a fine place in which to disport oneself.

If only he could find something worth stealing! Then the task would be to find a way back to his world.…

Ah, but then, he’d been over this same ground a thousand times since bumbling into the castle a year ago. There was no way back, or none easily found. And if he gave the matter enough thought, if he sat himself down and went about the task of sorting through his wishes, he usually found that he would as lief stay here. So be it.

Still, he hungered sore for some pastime to while away the hours, and questing for booty was as good as he could come up with. So it was his habit, at times, when the spirit moved him, to strike out into the far reaches of the castle in search of its fabled Treasure Room, which he had heard talk of. That such talk could be sheerest fancy, he well knew; but the quest was the thing. He needed it. It fortified him.

It was on such a trek that he had met the obese young man and his blackamoor mistress.

“You mean you ain’t seen the Bluefaces yet?” the young woman asked him.

“Neither scale nor scutcheon of them. What manner of creature be they?”

She blinked her dark eyes. “They ain’t got no manners to speak of.”

“What I meant —”

“I know what you mean. They’re scary, ugly blue guys with big feet and lots of teeth.”

The young man who called himself Barnaby said, “That’s about the size of it. No one knows what portal they came from. They began their attack about … ” He scratched his head. “Jeez, Deena, how long has it been?”

She shook her head. “I dunno. It seems like days, but I know it hasn’t been that long. Say ten hours.”

“Has to be longer than that.”

“Okay, say maybe twelve. Fifteen?”

“So, it’s really just begun,” Kwip ventured.

“Yeah, but how come you missed it?” Deena wanted to know.

“I was off in a far part of the castle. Outside the keep, along the outer walls. I had a fancy to explore some tall towers which stand thereabouts.”

“Wow. You went wandering around alone? How’d you find your way there?”

“One gets used to the place. A servant showed me a tunnel betwixt the keep and the outer fortifications. I saw nothing of any disturbance.”

Barnaby said, “Well, at least that means they haven’t overrun the whole castle yet.”

“’Twould be wondrous an they could. The castle’s a vasty barn. Sometimes I think there’s no end to it.”

“I know what you mean. Still, the Bluefaces seem to be everywhere in the keep. At least that’s the way it’s appeared to us.”

Kwip stroked his beard pensively. “Very likely you saw what you saw. They seem of a military bent, say you?”

“Very well organized, tactically pretty good, although they’re not the best swordsmen in the world. It’s just that they’re very efficient soldiers.”

“Such are dangerous, there’s no doubt. Well, there seems to be nothing for it but to hie ourselves through a suitable aspect.”

Barnaby nodded. “We tried to, but as you saw, our luck wasn’t very good.”

“No,” Kwip agreed, “but I suspect inexperience were more the culprit than luck. There are any number of aspects. ’Tis but a matter of knowing which to choose.”

“Well, we’d appreciate any help.”

“Aye.” Kwip was not keen on taking two fledglings under his wing. Such obligations tend to slow a man down. Still, he could not very well leave them to fend for themselves. He had no wish to trip across their corpses in a day or two. “I know a place,” he said. “I sometimes take my mid-day meal there. It’s well away from the Guests’ quarters.”

“Fine,” Barnaby said. “We’d love to go along with you, if you’ll have us.”

“’Twould be my pleasure, sir.”

See that you don’t get underfoot, Kwip thought sourly. Damn me for a softhearted fool.

They exited the room and made their way down a narrow corridor which led to a short staircase. The stairs descended into a great hall furnished in chairs and tables and hung with colorful pennants. They moved through the room to a far door, which opened onto a hallway. Turning right, they walked a stretch, then swung left at an intersection.

“You seem to know where you’re going,” Barnaby observed.

“Be quiet!” Kwip whispered.

“Sorry,” Barnaby mumbled.

Kwip held out an arm and Deena bumped into it, Barnaby bumping into her. Kwip tilted his head, listening a moment to far-off noises. Then he crooked two fingers and beckoned his companions forward again. They advanced down the hallway slowly.

A tremulous wail sounded in the distance. It was like nothing Kwip had ever heard. A chill went through him.

They stopped, Deena and Barnaby instinctively linking hands. Kwip turned to them.

“The invaders?” he asked quietly.

“I don’t know,” Barnaby said in an awed tone. “I can’t imagine what that was. Sounded like some horrible …thing.”

Kwip lifted his eyebrows, nodding emphatically. “Aye, it gave me a start. But many a strange beast walks this place.” He drew his saber and motioned with his head. “Come on, then. And keep a sharp eye out.”

They moved off. A few paces down they encountered a spiral stairwell. Kwip led them into it.

“I know a shortcut,” he said.

They hurried down the well, their footsteps making hollow, muddled echoes against the curving stone walls.

They came out into one end of a long hallway, the T of a crossing passage a few paces to the left. Barnaby edged to the right, peering into a dark alcove across the way. Kwip decided to check out the intersection and peeked around the left corner.

Kwip had never seen a demon, but he knew the creature for what it was the moment he saw it. He could barely comprehend what he saw. It was big, about seven feet tall, and its head and face were a horror that he would half remember for nightmares without end. The eyes were not human, but seemed to radiate an intelligent malevolence like heat from the glowing tip of a torturer’s pincer. The face was generally triangular, and the mouth gaped, heavy with numerous black, ragged teeth — charred stumps in a burnt forest. Its coloring was generally red, mottled with blotches of bilious green and diseased black. The torso and legs were powerfully muscled, and the three-toed feet ended in great curving talons. The area between its legs gave no hint of its gender, if it had one.

What Kwip found eye-defying was that the creature glowed with a strange interior light. The thing did not seem to be composed of ordinary matter. It was as if the figure were a three-dimensional painting, an artist’s embodied rendering of a nightmare. A diffuse greenish glow surrounded the thing, and banners of shifting auroral color played about it here and there.

The sight hit Kwip as one telling blow. His pulse stopped, his blood froze, and his mind emptied of everything but a numbing fear.

The thing apparently had heard them coming out of the stairwell and had tried to creep up along the wall. It stopped when it saw Kwip, its mouth widening into a horrible travesty of a smile. Then it spoke one word.

“Death,” it intoned. Part of the vibrations of which the voice was composed rumbled at the bottom end of the range of human hearing. The remaining, more audible component sounded like clustered notes pounded out on the lower octaves of a spinet’s keyboard, combined with shrieking overtones that rasped against the ear.

Shocked into immobility, Kwip watched the thing raise a huge bladed weapon that was a cross between an ax and a scimitar. Faint multicolored flames played about the curious, evil-looking blade. The creature’s glowing eyes nailed him with a look that pierced his heart, their hot, withering gaze searing the very nub of his being.

Hands yanked him back, and the demon’s blade struck the wall at a point directly across from where his head had been. With a cascade of violet sparks, the stone fractured, pieces of it sailing off. Smoke rose from the impact point.

The next thing Kwip knew he was running faster than he had ever run in his life, and the thing was chasing him. He was dimly aware of the young man and woman running beside him.

They ran for a short eternity, the corridor an endless treadmill. Finally they reached the branches of a cross-tunnel.

“Split up!” Kwip shouted over his shoulder.

“Barnaby, this way!” Deena yelled, grabbing her fat friend’s shirt sleeve and swinging him round. The two raced off down the left branch of the crossing.

The demon let them go and chased after Kwip.