Swords Against the Shadowland

The Gray Mouser seemed not to hear. "Why don't you give me a hand, you great giant?" he said without looking at Fafhrd. Jumping straight up, he thrust his rapier at the ruby again. The point scraped on the gleaming facets, and the jewel popped out of its golden circlet. For a moment, it teetered on the metal edge, threatening to fall back into its resting place. Instead, after a moment's hesitation, it tumbled into the Mouser's waiting hands.

The Mouser cried out triumphantly, his face eerily lit by the arcane gem he held.

In the same instant, the chamber's arched doors flew wide. Five armored soldiers, dressed in the livery of Lankhmar's Overlord, surged across the threshold with torches and drawn swords. A huge knight rushed Fafhrd, and gleaming steel flashed toward his head.

As Fafhrd parried the first blow, the Gray Mouser screamed, and the red light shifted wildly as his prize struck the edge of the altar and rolled across the floor. Slamming an elbow into his attacker's face and leaping back to give himself room to wield Graywand, Fafhrd risked a glance toward his comrade.

The four rods that had held the jewel whipped about like living tendrils. In an instant, they ensnared the Mouser's arms and legs, jerked him off his feet, and forced him down upon the obsidian altar.

A second soldier ran at Fafhrd, and two more tried to flank him. A fourth thrust a torch at his face; he knocked it aside, and put a boot in the man's stomach, knocking him back between the doors.

A sword rose, but before it fell the soldier that held it hesitated, his gaze going toward the ceiling. Fafhrd might have run the man through, but for a sudden vertigo that weakened his knees and sent him stumbling backward.

The chamber seemed to swirl. The black teardrops on walls and ceiling and floor began to move. A strange humming rose, soft at first, but turning angry. The arched doors slammed shut, and a short, sharp scream followed as they crushed the head of the soldier Fafhrd had sent sprawling between them.

A weird chorus of unearthly whispers swelled over the humming and the Mouser's cursing and struggling. Koh-Vombi, those ancient, rasping voices called, Koh-Vombi!

Fafhrd struggled to regain his balance. The soldiers reeled before him, their faces filled with terror. "Mouser!" Fafhrd called as he groped toward the altar where the whipping rods held his partner spread-eagled.

A ripple passed through the candelabras. Tiny red eyes snapped unnaturally open on eight serpentine faces, and gold-scaled forms untwined and collapsed to the floor. Of one will, however, the creatures undulated to the altar, and the rods forced the straining Mouser's wrists and ankles down toward wetly glittering fangs.

Koh-Vombi, called the ancient voices, Koh-Vombi!

With a mighty effort, Fafhrd lurched to the altar. Gripping Graywand's hilt in both hands, he swung the blade in a powerful arc and brought it smashing down on a golden rod. Metal rang on metal, and the force of his blow shivered up his arms. A second time, he struck the rod, and the Mouser screamed, feeling the impact in his wrist, but the rod snapped, and his left arm was free!

A flat, scaled head leered up over the side of the altar. With a shriek of near panic, the Gray Mouser snatched his rapier from his still-prisoned right hand and swung it. The creature's head flew across the chamber, spraying green ichor.

Three more swift blows freed the Mouser. The rods lashed wildly, like injured things, spraying the same horrible, warm fluid. Gathering his feet under him, the Mouser sprang from the altar, clearing the serpents by a goodly distance, and fell flat on his face among the struggling soldiers.

Fafhrd backed more slowly, carefully placing each foot, making sure of his balance. The serpents turned away from the altar to follow him. If he fell, their fangs would find him. But the chamber's swirling filled him with a senses-stealing sickness that threatened to topple him.

He dared to glance away from the serpents at the walls.

Kob- Vombi! Koh~ Vombil

The black teardrops moved like creatures in a hive. No longer flat, two-dimensional markings or bits of paint, they gleamed with a wet slime, and from the rapid beating of thin, membranous wings, issued that angry humming.

One of the Overlord's soldiers managed to rise unsteadily to his feet. Turning toward the door, intent on escape, he reeled unexpectedly to the left and fell on one of the chairs, which shattered under his weight.

A serpent came within reach of Graywand, and a second severed head splatted against the wall.

The rasping voices of unseen summoners rose in volume, chanting, Koh-Vombi!

Black teardrops leaped from the walls, filling the air with furious flight.

Something smacked wetly on Fafhrd's neck. He grabbed for it and scraped it free, even as another struck his right cheek. Opening his fist, he found a pulpy shape and a smear of blood. "Leeches!" he shouted, horrified.