The Catswold Portal

At the top she paused to let him blow. Their shadow on the cliff shone thin as breath. Before her the land dropped again steeply, and the granite sky rose away like the top of a bubble. Her every instinct told her to turn back to the cottage and to Mag and safety. But she urged the pony on down the bank. He picked his way carefully, sure-footed, as were all elven-bred beasts. But at the bottom where they entered into a tunnel, he snorted uneasily. She had no doubt this was the way; already she could smell the reek of smoke from the fires of the Hell Pit. The tunnel, without the green wizard light, was totally black. When she brought a spell-light the pony moved on more easily, and when he saw far ahead the end of the tunnel he hurried; the gleam of green light cheered Sarah, too. They came out at the foot of high cliffs.

The air was hot, the land radiated heat. The smoke was so strong she sneezed. They climbed again, and by mid-morning, when they reached the highest ridge, the pony was sweating and balking. Now far, far below them stretched the Hell Pit. The scorched plain was dark with smoke, and was burned black in a wide swath along the edge of the pit. The pit belched smoke and seethed with flames leaping and sputtering. It was in some places wider than the broadest river, but portions of it were as narrow as a path. It was bottomless. Its magma burned and belched fire, bubbling up from the earth’s molten core.

She forced the pony down the slick rock, the little beast skidding and sliding. The smoke smelled sulphurous. Soon sweat plastered her hair and ran into her eyes and glued her dress to her. The pony’s neck and shoulders ran with sweat. Suddenly ahead something black flew toward her, separating into three winged shapes.

Three flying lizards skimmed along beneath the stone sky. When they were directly above her, they circled, watching her. She stared up at their little red eyes and shouted a spell at them. They flapped as if jolted, and flew away screaming. The winged lizards were the queen’s spies. Why would they want to watch her?

As she drew near the bottom of the cliff, the stench of sulphur and smoke gagged her, and the pony put his ears back, wanting to bolt away. At the edge of the plain he balked completely, rearing and wheeling, fighting her. She slid off, let him run back up the cliff, then hobbled him halfway up with the strongest holding spell she knew. If he ran off, she’d walk home.

On foot she crossed the burnt plain and approached the Hell Pit, coughing from the fumes, dizzy with the heat. Near to the pit, flames licked out at her, and the heat warped her vision. She stepped nearer.

She could see deep down within the flames, dark shapes moving. Swallowing her terror, she choked out a summoning spell.

She waited, then repeated the spell. When after a long time she thought no Lamia would come, she felt weak with relief. But suddenly something dark shifted within the flames and began to rise.

A creature rose up within the licking flames, dragon-tailed and armored with scales, its woman’s face and jutting breasts covered with bright scales that glinted and changed color in the hot, warping air. Its thick tail lashed at the edge of the pit, dislodging stones that fell away into the flames. The hot air warped and shifted, and the Lamia hung before her—half-dragon, half-woman—its woman’s face fine featured but reptilian. Its mouth was red and wet, its black eyes hungry. Its hands darted out toward her: woman’s hands ending in sharp dragon’s claws. Its voice was a burning hiss. “What power have you, girl, to call me from the pit?”

Sarah had backed away, her mouth too dry to speak.

“Why do you call me, human girl? What do you want?”

“I—I call you to answer my questions.”

The beast lunged at her. “If I answer your questions, what do you offer in return?”

She moved farther from the edge. “I offer nothing. You are bound by my spell to answer me.” Her heart pounded too fast, she couldn’t make her voice steady. “My spell allows three questions.”