Deadhouse Landing

A noise pulled at Dancer’s awareness and he turned his head, concentrating. After a moment it came again across the dunes and he cursed. It was the distant baying of a hound.

Even Xethel turned her fur-covered head. ‘You are trespassing and have raised the ire of the guardians. You should return to the gate.’

Now Wu’s brows shot up. ‘Gate? There is a gate?’

‘You do not know of it?’ She was backing away, making motions that they should follow.

‘No. We are from … far away.’

‘Then come, quickly.’

The baying was gathering in intensity, and held a new eager note. Dancer took Wu’s arm and helped him along. Xethel led them up a tall dune and there, in the basin beyond, stood a structure very much at odds with its surroundings. Dancer helped Wu jog down the slope, keeping pace with Xethel.

It was a small arch of cut and dressed black basalt – built to endure the ages, obviously, but draped in wind-blown sand and dust now.

Xethel motioned to it. ‘Go.’

Dancer released Wu’s arm. He was no mage, but clearly this construct was no more than an ancient curiosity. He neither sensed nor saw any power or aura about it.

‘It is closed,’ Wu said in disappointment.

An unreadable emotion crossed Xethel’s alien features. ‘Are you blind? It is quite open. Many have used it.’

‘In your time, perhaps.’

Xethel was weaving her long thin fingers together, perhaps in unease. ‘Please do not think badly of me, but I must go.’

‘But I have so many questions,’ Wu said.

Xethel laughed again, though rather nervously this time. ‘Then I name you Amman-an-ash. The One Who Would Know Everything.’ She nodded in Dancer’s direction. ‘And you I name Coth-tel-ish-ath. The One Who Watches and Judges.’

The baying burst so close upon them that even Xethel winced, her bony shoulders hunching. ‘Now,’ Dancer snarled.

But Wu was eyeing the arch, a finger at his lips. ‘Interesting. It looks to have been sealed from this side…’

‘Now!’

The little mage rolled his eyes. ‘Oh, very well.’ He tucked the walking stick under his arm. ‘Let’s see if I can remember…’

Gravel clattered nearby and both men turned their heads. Atop the dune behind them stood a massive canine, nearly the size of a pony. It was short-haired, and dirty cream in hue. It stared down at them with an almost quizzical tilt of its wide head, as if confused as to why they weren’t running.

Wu gaped. The walking stick fell to the dirt. ‘On it,’ he gasped. Dancer faced the creature and drew his heaviest fighting knives, though he had little hope of his chances. Xethel was backing away, peering round frantically, obviously sensing the beast, but not able to see it.

With a chuff like a bull’s cough, the animal charged. Dancer had only one idea. A technique he’d heard of where one leapt over the head of a beast and stabbed downwards. It needed momentum, so he immediately charged as well, pumping his arms, blades held in reverse grip. His footing was poor in the yielding sand, but there was nothing to be done about that. He watched the creature’s head rising and falling as it hurtled towards him, drool flying from its maw and its bright eyes seeming to glow with bloodlust.

His sense of timing told him it was now or die and so he leapt, but everything turned and twisted in a strange way while he was in mid-air and he came down hard on wet sand that shushed beneath him. He gasped for breath. It was dark, and a cold wind was blowing, and on that wind he thought he heard a diminishing howl of daemonic frustration and rage.

He lay peering up at clouds and familiar stars peeping through their ragged gaps. Malaz. Coughing and splashing sounded nearby and he raised his head. Wu was attempting to rise in the surf while the waves splashed up to his chest. He came staggering over to stand brushing at his sodden clothes.

‘There!’ he announced. ‘More reliable, yes?’

‘You? Reliable?’

Wu extended a hand that he took to help pull himself up. Together, they headed for the bar. Water was dripping from Wu’s sleeves and his boot squelched as he walked. ‘You really charged that beast?’ he said.

‘Going to be torn to pieces anyway.’

Wu was nodding, hands now behind his back. ‘True, true. There must be a way, though…’ and he walked on in silent thought.

They pushed open the door to find the bar empty of customers but for three drunks. Surly was at the counter and a few of the Napan hands were cleaning up, sweeping and clearing tables.

‘Where have you been?’ Surly demanded from across the room. ‘And you’re getting the floor wet.’

‘Went for a wash,’ Wu answered.

‘About time,’ one of the Napan bouncers next to the door muttered under his breath. The one called Grinner.

Dancer hid his own grin, while Wu pretended he hadn’t heard. He bustled across the floor, making for the stairs. ‘I’ll be in my office should I be needed.’

‘Needed?’ Surly murmured, leaning up against the counter, her arms crossed.