Wizard's First Rule

Master Rahl guide us. Master Rahl teach us. Master Rahl protect us. In your light we thrive. In your mercy we are sheltered. In your wisdom we are humbled. We live only to serve. Our lives are yours.

He chanted the devotion over and over, focusing his mind on it, until his breathing slowed, until he was calm once more. He was still stuck, but at least his mind was working again.

Something touched his leg. His eyes went wide.

It was a tentative, timid touch. Richard kicked his leg. At least he kicked it as best he could in the confines of the hole. It was more of a jerk. The touch left.

It came back. Richard froze. This time, it went up inside his pant leg. Cold, wet, slimy. Slithering, the hard-tipped thing worked up his leg, caressing his skin, to the inside of his thigh. Richard kicked and jerked his leg again. This time, it didn't leave. The tip moved in probing touches. Something along the length of it pinched his skin. Panic threatened to take him again, but he fought it back.

Now he had no choice. Richard expelled the air from his lungs, having had the thought before, but having been afraid to try it. When his lungs were empty, and he was as small as he could make himself, he pushed with his toes, pulled with his fingers, and wriggled with his body. He moved ahead about a foot.

It was tighter yet. He couldn't inhale. It hurt. He fought to keep the panic down. His fingers felt something. An edge of the opening, maybe. Maybe the opening to the hole he was in. He squeezed even more air out of his lungs. The thing gripped his leg painfully, urgently. He heard an angry, clicking growl. He pulled with his fingers, seizing the edge, and pushed with his toes. He moved ahead. His elbows were up to the edge. Something sharp along the length of the thing on his leg, sharp like little cat's claws; sank into his flesh. Richard couldn't cry out. He squeezed ahead. Fire burned into the flesh of his leg.

The torch, cane reeds, and his sword fell away. Clattering, the sword slid down the rock. Using his elbows for leverage, he squeezed the upper half of his body through the opening, gasping for air in deep draughts. The hooks pulled his leg. Richard wriggled the rest of the way out of the hole, sliding, falling headfirst down steep, smooth rock.

The torch burned on the curving bottom of the egg-shaped chamber. His sword was just beyond it. As he slid headfirst, his hands out in front, he stretched for his sword. The hooked claws in the flesh of his leg brought him up short, holding him upside down. Richard screamed out in pain, the sound echoing around the chamber. He couldn't reach the sword.

Painfully, slowly, he was dragged back up by claws in his leg. They tore the flesh. He screamed again. Another appendage slipped up the other pant leg, feeling his calf muscle with its hard tip.,

Richard pulled his knife and twisted himself in half to reach the thing that held him. Over and over he drove the blade into it. From deep in the hole came a high-pitched squeal. The claws retracted. Richard fell, sliding along the rock, coming to a stop next to the torch. Grasping the scabbard in one hand, he drew the sword as snakelike appendages came out of the hole, wriggling about in the air, searching. They probed their way down the rock toward him. Richard swung the sword, lopping off several of the arms. With a howl, they all whipped back into the hole. There was a low growl from the depths of the blackness.

In the flickering light of the torch that lay on the stone floor, he could see a bulk squeezing out of the opening, expanding as it exited. He couldn't reach it with the sword, but he knew he didn't want to let it into the chamber with him.

An arm whipped around his waist, lifting him. He let it. An eye peered down; glistening in the torchlight. He saw wet teeth. As the arm pulled him toward the teeth, he drove the sword through the eye. There was a howl, and the arm released him. He slid to the bottom once more. The whole creature pulled back into the hole, and the arms whipped about, yanking in after it. The howls faded back into the distant darkness, and were gone.

Richard sat on the floor, shaking, running his fingers through his hair. At last his breathing slowed and his fear settled. He felt his leg. Blood soaked his. pants. He decided there was nothing he could do about it right now; he had to get the egg first. Dim light came from across the chamber. Following the large tunnel on the other side, he came at last to the opening of the cave.

Faint light of dawn and the chirping of birds greeted him. Below, he could see dozens of gars prowling about. Richard settled behind a rock to rest. He could see the egg below, with steam rising around it. He could also see that the egg was far too big to carry back through the cave. Besides, he didn't ever want to go into a cave again. What was he going to do if he couldn't carry it back through the cave? It would be light soon. He had to think of an answer.