Enchanted Pilgrimage (20 page)

“Well, anyhow,” said Gib, “they're leaving us alone. They brought us food, then went off. Maybe they're giving us time to get used to the idea of them, and if that's the case, I'm glad. I'm sorry about it, of course, but I gag at the sight of them.”

“You'll have to get used to them,” said Cornwall. “They'll be back again. There is something that they want from us.…”

“I hope,” said Hal, “they give us time to eat first.”

They did. Supper was finished and full night had come. Hal had built up the fire so that it lighted a good part of the yard.

There, were only three of them—Big Belly, Toad Face, and a third that looked as if it had been a fox that had started to turn human and had gotten stuck halfway in the transformation.

They came up to the fire and sat down. Foxy grinned at them with a long jaw full of teeth. The others did not grin.

“You are comfortable,” asked Toad Face, “and well fed?”

“Yes,” said Cornwall. “Thank you very much.”

“There are rooms made ready for you.”

“We would not feel comfortable without a fire and the open sky above us.”

“Humans are seldom seen here,” said Foxy, grinning again to show that he was friendly. “Two of you are human.”

“You are prejudiced against humans?” asked Hal.

“Not at all,” said Foxy. “We need someone who isn't scared.”

“We can be just as scared as you,” said Cornwall.

“Maybe,” Foxy agreed, “but not scared of the same things. Not as scared of the Chaos Beast as we are.”

“But the Chaos Beast is dead.”

“You still can be scared of a thing when it is dead. If you were scared enough of it while it was alive.”

“If you are this scared, why don't you leave?”

“Because,” said Toad Face, “there is something that we have to do. The Chaos Beast told us we had to do it once he was dead. He put a charge on us. And we know we have to do it, but that doesn't stop us from being scared to do it.”

“And you want us to do it for you?”

“Don't you see,” said Big Belly, “it won't be hard for you. You never knew the Chaos Beast. You never knew what he could do.”

“Dead he can't do anything,” said Gib.

“We tell ourselves that,” said Foxy, “but we don't believe it. We tell ourselves and it does no good.”

“Tell us about this Beast of yours,” said Cornwall.

They looked at one another, hesitant.

“Tell us,” Cornwall said. “If you don't, there is no deal. And there has to be a deal. We do this chore for you, what do you do for us?”

“Well, we thought …”

“You think because you helped us this afternoon …”

“Well, yes,” said Big Belly, “we sort of did think that.”

“I wouldn't be too sure of how much help you were,” said Hal. “We were doing rather well. Mark's magic sword and a quiver full of arrows, plus Gib and his ax …”

“It was a help,” said Mary.

“Don't let these jokers fool you,” Sniveley warned. “They have some dirty work …”

“I admit,” said Cornwall, “that you made some points this afternoon, but it seems to me this calls for more than points.”

“You bargain with us?” Foxy asked.

“Well, let us say we should discuss the matter further.”

“A sackful of chickens, perhaps,” said Foxy. “Maybe a pig or two.”

Cornwall did not answer.

“We could shoe your horses,” said Toad Face. “We have a forge.”

“We're going at this wrong,” said Gib. “First we should find out what kind of chore they want done. It may be something we don't want to do.”

“Very easy,” Big Belly said. “No sweat at all. Provided you have no real fear of the Beast. Fear, of course, but not the kind of fear we have. Even to speak the name, we shudder.”

All three shuddered.

“You talk about this Beast of yours and shiver,” Sniveley said, tartly. “Tell us what made him so fearsome. Tell us the horror of him. Do not try to spare us. We have stout stomachs.”

“He came not of this Earth,” said Foxy. “He fell out of the sky.”

“Hell,” said Cornwall, disgusted, “half the heathen gods descended from the sky. Now, tell us something new.”

“Legend says in all seriousness that he came out of the sky,” said Big Belly. “Legend says he fell on this spot and lay here in all his fearsomeness. The people of that time fled for their lives, for there were many things about him that they did not like. Those were good days then, or so it is said. There was rain, and the soil was rich, and many people dwelt here in contentment and happiness. But a sickness came upon the land, a rottenness. There were no rains, and the soil lost richness, and there was famine, and the people said it was the Beast who brought the sickness of the land. So they met in council and decided that the Beast must be hedged against the land. With many years of labor they brought here great stones and fenced him in with stones, not around him only, but on top of him as well, leaving only at the very top an opening so that if it were necessary he might be reached. Although why anyone should want to reach him is not well explained. They built a vault to contain him, with deep footings of stone to support the walls, and in the opening at the top they placed a fitted stone to shut him from the land and sky.

“And having done so, they waited for the rain, and there was no rain. The sickness still lay upon the land, the grasses died and the sand began to blow and drift. But the people clung to the land, for once it had been good land and might be good again, and they were loath to give it up. There were certain of these people who claimed they had learned to talk with the vaulted Beast, and these told the others that he wished them to worship him. ‘If we worship him, perhaps he'll take the sickness from the land.' So they worshiped him, but the worship did no good, and they said among themselves, ‘Let us build a house for him, a very pleasing house. Perhaps if we do that, he will be pleased and take the sickness from the land.' Once again they labored mightily to build this castle that you see, and the people who had learned to talk with him moved into the castle to listen to what he had to say and to do those things he wanted done, and I shudder when I think of some of those acts he wanted done.…”

“But it did no good,” said Cornwall.

“How did you know that?” asked Foxy.

“For one thing, the land continues sick.”

“You are right,” said Foxy. “It did no good.”

“And yet you stayed here all the time,” said Mary. “Since they built the castle. For you are the ones, aren't you, who talked with the Beast?”

“What there are left of us,” said Toad Face. “Some of us have died, although all of us lived many times longer than the folk we once were. We lived longer and we changed. It almost seemed that we lived longer to give us the chance to change. Century after century the changes came on us. You can see the changes.”

“I am not so certain,” said Oliver, “that I believe all this. It seems impossible common folk would become the kind of things these are.”

“It was the Beast that did it,” said Big Belly. “We could feel him changing us. We don't know why he changed us, but he did.”

“You should have left,” said Cornwall.

“You do not understand,” said Foxy. “We took a pledge to stay. To stay with the Beast. After a time the people left, but we stayed on. We were afraid that if the Beast were left alone, he'd tear down the vault and be loosed upon the Wasteland. We couldn't let that happen. We had to stand between the Wasteland and the Beast.”

“And after a time,” said Toad Face, “there was no place for us to go. We were so changed there was no place would take us.”

“I'm not inclined,” said Sniveley, “to believe a word of this. They have told us the story of the forming of a priesthood—a group of selfish, scheming leeches who fastened on the people. They used the Beast to gain an easy living and now, perhaps, the living is not so easy, since the people left, but it was at one time, and that was their purpose in saying they could converse with this Beast. Even now they would have us believe they have a noble purpose, standing, they say, between the Beast and the Wasteland. But they are no more than a gang of slickers, especially that one with the foxy face.”

“Perhaps they are,” said Cornwall. “Perhaps what you say is right, but let us hear the rest of it.”

“That's all of it,” said Big Belly. “And every word is truth.”

“But the Beast is dead,” said Hal. “You have no worries anymore. Sure, he told you to do something when he died, but you don't have to do it. You're now beyond his reach.”

“Perhaps he can't reach you,” said Foxy. “Perhaps not the others of your party. But he can reach us. We have been with him for so long, perhaps becoming so much a part of him, that in many ways he can still live in us, and even in death he can reach out—yes, even in death he can reach out.…”

“God, yes,” said Cornwall, “lit could happen that way.”

“We know he's dead,” said Big Belly. “His body lies rotting in the vault. He was a long time dying, and we seemed to die a little with him. We could feel the dying and the death. But in the reaches of the night, in the time of silences, he is still there. Perhaps not to others; probably only to ourselves.”

“Okay, then,” said Hal. “Say we accept your word for all of this. You've taken a lot of time and trouble to build up your story, and you have some purpose in your mind. I submit it is now time to tell us of that purpose. You said there was a chore that you wanted done and that we could do it because we were not as fearful of the Chaos Beast as you are.”

“The task requires entering the vault,” said Foxy.

“You mean into the vault with that dead monstrosity!” cried Mary.

“But why?” asked Cornwall, horrified. “Why into the vault?”

“Because,” said Foxy, “there is something there that must be taken out. Something the Beast said should be taken out.”

“You know what this thing is?”

“No, we don't know what it is. We asked and the Beast would not tell us. But we know that it is there. We took the cover from the vault and looked down into it. It took all the courage we had, but we managed it. Not for very long. We just had a glimpse, but we saw the object that must be taken out. We took one look and fled.…”

“And you want us to get it out?”

“If you would, please,” said Foxy.

“Could you tell us what it is?” asked Mary.

“We saw only a part of it, or I
suppose
we saw only a part of it. We cannot imagine what it is. It appears to be a cage, a round cage. There are strips of metal formed into a cage. It is about so big.” Foxy held his hands about a foot apart.

“Embedded in the body of the beast?”

“That is right,” said Foxy.

“It will be a nasty job,” said Gib.

“I do not like it,” said Sniveley. “There is something here that's evil. There is more than they have told us.”

“Perhaps,” said Cornwall, “but they have a problem, and I suppose there is a price. Not,” he said to Foxy, “a few chickens and a pig.”

“The goodness of the deed,” suggested Foxy. “For the sake of chivalry.”

“Don't talk to us of chivalry,” snapped Oliver. “Chivalry is dead. It didn't last too long. It was a rotten idea while it did. So come up with something solid. If you don't, come morning we will leave.”

“You dare not leave,” said Foxy smugly. “The Hellhounds are lurking out there on the plain. They'll snap you up before you've gone a league. The Hellhounds never loved you, and now they love you less since you killed the giant.”

“You suggest we're trapped in here,” said Hal.

“Perhaps not,” said Big Belly. “It's possible we could help you.”

“They're working together,” Sniveley charged. “These jokers and the Hellhounds. They're putting the squeeze on us.”

“If you mean,” said Toad Face, “that we are friendly with the Hellhounds and with their aid have devised a devious scheme to get you to do this small service for us, you couldn't be more wrong.”

“Come to think of it,” said Gib, “we never saw a Hellhound until we saw the castle. We watched and waited for them and they never did show up until we reached the castle. They waited for us here. They could have jumped us anyplace along the way, but they waited for us here.”

“For years,” said Foxy, “the Hounds have nosed around this castle, thinking they might catch us unaware. It has been war between us almost from the start. In recent years they have grown more cautious, for we have made them smart, and they have sorely learned what we can do to them. Time after time we've whomped them with various kinds of magic, but they still hang around. They've never given up. Now, however, at the very sight of us, they tuck in their tails and scamper. We have them hexed.”

“It's the castle they want?” asked Gib. “Not really you they're after, but the castle?”

“That is right,” said Foxy. “It's a thing of pride with them, to be possessors of the Castle of the Chaos Beast. They never, you understand, have really amounted to anything at all. They have been the rowdies and the brawlers of the Wasteland. They've been feared, of course, but they've never been respected. But to hold the castle—that might give them status and respect.”

“And you say you have them hexed?”

“They dare not lay a hand on us. They won't even come too close. But they hope that through some trick someday they will overcome us.…”

“Is it your thought,” asked Cornwall, “that you can give us safe escort when we leave the castle?”

“That is our thought,” said Foxy.

“We enter the vault and bring out the object, and once that is done, you furnish us escort until there is no longer any danger from the Hellhounds.”