It wasn't that bad at first.

The part with the buxom maidens and the accolades from the king were quite nice, actually. Killing the traitor in fierce, pitched combat. Becoming a hero of the crown, who's name would be sung in songs of praise for generations. The gold wasn't bad, either. But after that, the dream took a decidedly darker turn. There were snarls and howls... not of animals, but of men suffering in a great deal of pain. The hard thumping noises of bodies hitting a wooden floor, still living... still floundering around in their convulsions.

His stomach clenched as something tried to claw its way out of his gut, ripping his insides apart as it fought. Giving up, the thing decided to crawl up his throat. It would get free THAT way; yes indeed, it would. His abdomen, chest, and neck burned with the blood and bile unleashed by the thing's claws.

What was it?

His eyes clamped shut as he swallowed down a mouthful of pain... and then snapped open again when he realized that he couldn't breathe. The thing had gotten lodged in his throat. It's own claws held it fast, completely shutting out the air that he desperately tried to force into his lungs.

Choking, he fell to his knees alongside the others. He grasped futilely at his bulging throat... tearing at the flesh with his fingernails. As the room began to darken, he reached for his knife. He put the edge to his own neck and began to cut-

Hars sat up on the floor, gasping with the sudden realization that he was not, in fact, about to slit his own throat. His sweat-soaked hair lay pasted to his skin; his chest rose and fell in spasms as his breathing slowly returned to normal.

His eyes, however, were firmly locked onto the man standing over him.

"Sorry to interrupt," said Gallows.

"Wha... what do you want?" said Hars. He glanced at the window. No light filtered in through the closed shutters. It was still night.

"Your watch is almost come," Gallows said calmly. "But that's not why I woke you."

"What, then?"

Gallows paused. It was an uncomfortable pause... for both of them. Gallows hesitated for a moment, then spoke again... his words quick and low.

"Something has happened."

---

Despite the lateness of the hour, December did not sleep. And he had no intention of doing so.

December considered sleep to be an unnecessary state of vulnerability, and had thus divested himself of the habit decades ago. It was not a complete abandonment of the human frailty, but it was enough to minimize his exposure to enemies and entities who targeted unprotected minds. The fact that it added hours of productive time to his day was just an added benefit. He often used his extra time to plan... to scheme... to predict and plot the downfalls of those who considered themselves his peers. Tonight, however, was different.

The room was sparse, yet remarkably comfortable for a place with so little furniture. There was a bed... unused... a nightstand and a large, padded chair. December sat in the chair, his attention focused solidly on the nightstand beside the bed.

On it was a small glass of water.

It was lukewarm, and utterly ordinary in every way, and yet it had captured December's attention like the most unsolvable of puzzles. He studied the glass with intense concentration, reaching out with his mind, not to drink in further details of it, but to do what should be... and, so far WAS... impossible.

December's sigh was so faint that it was almost inaudible. The water in the glass was proving most intractable... steadfastly refusing to yield to his will. Despite his best efforts, the water remained a lukewarm liquid, barely cooler than room temperature. December could easily lower the temperature in the chamber, freezing the water and everything else along with it... but that would be defeating the purpose of the exercise. He wanted to freeze the water from across the room without affecting the air around him. He wanted to reach out and touch the liquid... freeze it solid in the glass... with just the force of his mind. He could not do it. But yet, he HAD done it, once. In New Venyce, he had done that and more. The incident had been a gift: A fleeting glimpse into what he COULD be.

And since that watery morning in New Venyce, every night found December sitting across the room from a glass of lukewarm water. Every night he tried to see that sliver of possibility again. Every night, he failed.

Tonight was no exception.

December's second sigh was mixed with the low, hissing sound of something far away... Shadows streaked across the walls, coming together in the corner like a black cloth gathered up in an invisible fist.

And out of that roiling clot of darkness, N'Doki emerged... stepping into the room as if walking through an ordinary door. Behind him, the shadows dissipated. Some vanished entirely, the rest clung to the necromancer like a second robe... or trailed behind him in place of the real shadow that N'Doki seemed to have misplaced.

"Maddening, is it not?" said the necromancer as he approached. He nodded at the glass. "To be given a taste of dat which you cannot haf... 'Tis a cruel ting, no?"

"At one time," December said without taking his eyes off of the glass. "...we had an conversation about you not intruding on my chambers unannounced. I remember that conversation distinctly."

"Ahh, but dese are not your chambers. And besides... dere is not'ing important for me to disturb. Dere are no women here for you to-"

"Some sentences are best left unfinished," December said suddenly, glancing briefly at N'Doki. "That is one of them."

N'Doki smiled. The necromancer's illusion faltered ever-so-slightly, revealing the rows of sharpened teeth protruding from his shriveled, emaciated jaw. December supposed that the slip was intentional; N'Doki was trying to get a reaction out of him... but he had ceased being surprised or amused by the necromancer's antics decades ago.

"Tis amusing," said N'Doki. "Many years N'Doki guide you... teach you... try to make you embrace de gift dat you haf. Many years you resist... you say dat you do not want to become like she who is de source of dat power. Now, at night, you sneak around behind N'Doki's back, straining to become dat very ting."

"No," said December. "It is not the same. All that I have ever seen of my potential has been destruction and madness. What Verraque showed me in New Venyce-"

"True power."

"No, not the power. But the USE of that power... for something other than death."

"And dis tempts you?"

"It has... a certain appeal."

"But perhaps it is too late. Perhaps you haf turned your back on it for too long-"

"I hope so," said December. "I hope I never see what I saw again."

"But you still try."

"Yes," said December. "I still try."

"Tis foolishness. Perhaps N'Doki not teach you as well as he t'ought, eh?"

"I disappoint you, then?"

"Does it matter?"

"Your opinion of me? No. Not at all."

"Den de question is... how you say... irrelevant."

Feeling that this awkward conversation had run its course, December brought it around to more pertinent matters. As unannounced as the necromancer's arrival was, it was not unbidden. There WERE important things to discuss.

"That was an interesting show you put on earlier."

"The boy? Yes, it was..." N'Doki smiled again. This time his false face remained solidly in place.

"So well done that even I cannot tell how much was real... and how much was a facade."

"Facade?" N'Doki flashed a confused look.

"You expect me to believe," said December "That a man of power would have such trouble with a few ghosts?"

"Dere were more dan a few," N'Doki said in his own defense. "And as I said before... dere is a force in dis place dat resists my magic-"

"So you say."

"You doubt me?"

"Yes, I do. I know that you are playing some kind of game here, N'Doki. If you wish to feign weakness-"

"I feign not'ing-"

"-then you are free to do so... until we reach the point where lives are endangered by your charade. You could have helped the boy a lot faster... and more safely... than the spectacle you put on earlier."

"And when did December become an Adept in the Dark Arts, eh? Perhaps you do more behind my back dan I realize, no?"

"Of your 'dark arts' I know nothing. But of YOU, N'Doki, I know a great deal."

"And I, you," said the necromancer. "And you are NOT de one to speak to N'Doki of charades."

December paused. It occurred to him quite suddenly, and with a fair amount of uneasiness... that he had NO idea what N'Doki was talking about.

"See, you fool even yourself," said the necromancer. "What will your women say when dey learn de truth about you, eh?"

"Women? If you mean Theesa, she is fully aware of what I am."

"What you are, perhaps. But what of dat which you WERE? What of de time when you were not as concerned as you are now about de lives of innocents? What of de darker, crueler December... de December dat made possible all dat you now enjoy wit de luxury of your newfound compassion? Hmm? What of DAT?"

"That time has passed. It passed long, long ago."

"Ahhh, but de past never dies, December. It only sleeps! And your OWN deceptions could awaken it when you least expect."

"Deceptions," said December. He said nothing else... just the word.

"Yesss," N'Doki explained. "What would Zade tink, eh? In New Venyce, you both condemn a man who turned his son into a killer. Your manipulations drove her to become his executioner. And yet, in de times that you say are long passed, YOU did de VERY SAME-"

"Enough," December raised his hand quickly, ending N'Doki's words in mid-sentence.

"You understand what N'Doki speaks of now, eh?"

"But not why you speak of it."

"I t'ought you wanted to know why we came to Bephal... perhaps I was mistaken."

"Bephal? You think place has something to do with my past? Something other than the obvious...?"

"No," said N'Doki. "It has not'ing to do wit you."

"Then why are we here?"

"To learn. N'Doki is here to learn about de force that festers in this place and interferes wit his power... but December, HE is here to learn somet'ing differen. Somet'ing much more important."

"And that would be what, exactly?"

"You will see. Or perhaps, you will not. Dat is up to you..."

"You are wasting my time, N'Doki."

"Am I? No, it is too early to tell if time be wasted or used wisely. You wait until dis is over... DEN you say if N'Doki waste your time by bringing you here."

"Wait until WHAT is over? So far, all I have seen are ghosts... which, if I recall correctly, are YOUR domain. Not mine."

"Ahh, but what is a ghost?" N'Doki said with a sly smile.

"I did not ask for riddles, N'Doki."

"And N'Doki not give you one. Perhaps de answer to dat question be relevant to your purpose here. Or perhaps not."

"If you are expecting me to beg you for a straight answer, you will be sorely disappointed."

"As amusing as dat would be-"

"You brought us here for a reason, N'Doki. Not here to Bephal... here to this house. To these people. To that boy. What did you know when we arrived... and what do you know now?"

"I knew only dat our purpose requires us to be in de presence of dese people. Tis a good ting for dem, no? Else de boy still be suff'ring."

"The spirits that attacked him. Who are...were... they, and what do they want?"

"Who dey are?" N'Doki shrugged. "What dey want... dat much be clear even to you: Dey want de boy."

"I see. We now move from riddles... to humor."

"De spirits are drawn to him. Perhaps because he is one of de few dat can see dem... though I do not know if dis is natural or a result of de event dat brought us here. I do know dat some part of de boy's mind extends into de spiritual plane. De ghosts are drawn to dat part... but dere is somet'ing more at work here. A power... a power dat commands dese ghosts... dat gives dem more life dan dey should have."

"This 'power' you describe... it seems to resemble-"

"Me," said N'Doki. "It work very much like N'Doki's power. Very similar...."

"That could be very disturbing indeed."

"Or N'Doki could be mistaken... perhaps seeing only reflections of himself in de spiritual fog dat surrounds dis place. 'Tis very hard to see anyt'ing clearly."

"You cover yourself well," December smirked. "You give an answer, then qualify it with uncertainty, making it completely useless."

"You want certainty, den perhaps we have it when de spirits return."

"You are expecting a second attempt at the boy?"

"Oh yes," said N'Doki. "Dese will not give up dat easily... dey cannot; de force behind dem will not allow it. But next time will be different.... dey be more determined, and ready for N'Doki's tricks. Perhaps dey have tricks of dere own, no?"

"We should warn our hosts-"

N'Doki shook his head.

"Dere is not'ing dey can do."

"Then it would be a simple matter to relocate them... move them far from here-"

N'Doki growled deeply in his throat.

"Curb your compassion, godling," he hissed. "Else it interfere wit de very lesson you are sent to learn."

"These people are not lessons, N'Doki. They are not experimental subjects. If there is something we can do to safeguard them-"

"There is MUCH we can do," N'Doki replied. "But since when does December act foolishly... wit'out knowing full well the ramifications of what he does? Hmmm? Haf dese women in your life taken you DAT far from de lessons dat N'Doki has taught you? If so, den we are INDEED wasting our time here!"

December considered the necromancer's words... most of them, anyway. His off-handed comments about Theesa were irrelevant, but N'Doki did have a point. It was far too early for any kind of action; he knew too little about what was going on.

"You see dat I am right," said N'Doki. "Dat is why you keep N'Doki around, no... to remind you of who you are."

"We wait for the enemy to make the next move," said December. "And, in doing so, he will reveal more of himself... and become vulnerable."

"Almost correct," the necromancer added. "Dese spirits are not our enemy. Dey are SOMEONE'S enemy... but not OURS. It would be best if you remember dat when what comes... comes." N'Doki backed away toward the wall, where the shadows were beginning to gather...

"And when WILL it come?"

"Soon," he said as the darkness reached out and claimed him... snatching him away. "... very soon."

---

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"All I know is that something has happened," said Gallows. He and Hars stood in a corner of the cabin... Hars' huge arms crossed defensively over his equally huge chest. He looked doubtfully at Gallows. "Something close," the mage continued. "I should go check it out."

Gallows paused, waiting for a response.

"Go, then," said Hars. "But not alone. Take someone with ye... I don't care who. Nobody goes out alone."

"Take who to do what?" Emerson said sleepily as he awoke. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. "How's a man supposed to sleep with all this whispering going on, eh?"

"You COULD do us all a favor and lose HIM somewhere in the woods," said Hars, nodding at Emerson.

"I think not. Not this time, anyway." Gallows turned to the shape sleeping in the furthest corner. "Thane," he called. "You can stop pretending to be asleep now."

"I WAS asleep," Yexhill Thane mumbled. He rolled over and sat up. "Or as close as I COULD be with Emerson's snoring shaking the walls."

"I don't snore! It was your damned MOANING that was keeping ME up! You and Hars-"

"Thane," said Hars. "Go with Gallows... he's going to check something out."

"Check what out?" said Thane.

"We'll know when we get there," said Gallows. "Think you can keep up with me?"

"Hmph..." With a sweep of his hand, Thane threw back his blanket and hopped to his feet. He still had his clothes on. "Let's move."

Without a word, Gallows turned and walked out of the cabin. Thane was beside him a second later.

"Going somewhere?" Hemingway asked them as they passed.

"Something's crawled under Gallows' saddle... we're going to check it out."

"Be careful," Hemingway added as Gallows vanished into the woods.

"Somehow," said Thane, "I don't think that's up to me..."

After only a few seconds of shoving their way through the dark undergrowth, Gallows led Thane to the remnants of an old path through the woods. The passage wasn't particularly ancient, but it did look as it hadn't seen foot-traffic in at least a generation. Branches, roots and vines had long since begun their reclamation of the dirt path... reaching out snag or trip the travelers at every step.

Amazingly, Gallows' black cape managed to avoid the entanglements even though its wearer... and his companion... had to constantly free themselves from the briars and thorns. Thane walked just behind the assassin, allowing Gallows to take the brunt of the punishment. That seemed only fair... after all, it was Gallows' idea to be out here in the first place. Gallows didn't seem to mind at all. In fact, he seemed to be ignoring everything around him except for whatever unfathomable signal he was following.

"You know where we're going yet?" said Thane after a few moments.

"Yes," Gallows pointed straight ahead, along the path they were following. "That way."

"Yes, but what's that way?"

"Town."

Thane had figured THAT much out already. They were heading back toward Bephal, but not along the same path that had taken them to the cabin. They were veering east, toward the far side of Bephal where the woods gave way to what few farms remained in the area.

"I don't think we've got much further," Gallows added. "We're close."

"But you don't know what were close TO?"

"No."

Gallows' stride slowed, and he threw his cape back to one side... nearly hitting Thane in the face with it. The mage checked his weapons. He had two miniature crossbows... each only slightly larger than a man's hand... hanging from his hips. Just behind them, were a full-sized crossbow on the right, and a large cluster of bolts on the left. And slung across his back, underneath his cape, was a collapsible longbow. The miniatures were already loaded, but Gallows grabbed the large crossbow and slid a bolt into the mechanism. Thane couldn't tell if he was using one of the enchanted bolts or not... they all looked the same to his untrained eyes.

With his loaded weapon clasped firmly in his hand, Gallows sped up... walking even faster than he had been before.

Thane, who carried no weapons other than his ring, simply shrugged and followed along.

A short time later, the path came to a dead end. The path had been narrowing for some time, with the woods closing in around them until eventually there was no road at all. And right before it vanished entirely, they came to a place where several trees had collapsed... or had been cut and laid across it. Whatever had caused the trees to fall, it had happened some time ago. Vines and younger trees had grown in between the dead wood, creating a barricade that blocking all further passage.

Gallows stood impatiently before the obstacle, as if expecting it to remove itself of its own volition.

"Going to STARE it down, are we?" said Thane as he came up beside the mage.

Gallows glanced up at the trees surrounding them, then at Thane.

"Can you climb?"

The pile was only twenty feet high, but the wood looked rotten. The vines and surrounding vegetation looked sturdy, though.

"No problem."

Gallows and Thane approached the barricade and started to haul themselves up. The wood was more rotten than Thane had guessed... much of it collapsed as soon as he put his weight upon it. Thane slid down, but he quickly grabbed a vine-

-and discovered that some of the vines had sharp, tooth-like barbs clustered along their length. Thane instantly let go of the vine and fell back to the ground, landing unceremoniously on his rear end.

"That didn't go well," he mumbled.

"Careful," came Gallows' voice from above. The assassin was just disappearing over the top of the barricade. Thane didn't know how Gallows had climbed so fast... but the wood and vegetation along the mage's path was completely undisturbed... as if he hadn't touched anything along the way. Thane started again. It was dark and difficult to distinguish safe hand holds until he tested them with his own flesh. But he went slowly and reached the top after only two or three more falls.

He looked down the other side and saw Gallows waiting for him.

"Next time, I'm burning this thing down!" Thane shouted. "If I jump down there, will you catch me?"

"No," said Gallows.

"Then you'd better move out of the way." Thane was perched at the top of the barricade, holding on to two branches for balance. He let go, and quickly touched his ring as he fell. There was a pulse of magic... and Thane floated gently to the ground, landing gracefully on his feet near where Gallows stood.

"Interesting ring," said Gallows.

"It has its uses."

"So I see."

Gallows continued on, although the going would much more difficult since they now moved without the benefit of a proper trail. Thane's hands were scraped and bloody from the vines. They hurt, but he'd survived worse. Much worse. He shook off the annoyance and followed the mage.

"So why'd you pick ME for this anyway?" Thane asked. "Why not one of the others?"

"Whom would you suggest?"

"If I'd known there was climbing involved, I'd have brought Emerson-"

"He talks to much," said Gallows.

"And Hemingway?"

"He THINKS too much."

"Ohhh... so I got the duty because I'm quiet and stupid, eh?"

"No... because you interest me."

"How's that?"

Gallows glanced back at Thane.

"I think you know," said Gallows.

"What's that supposed to mean?-"

Just then, Gallows pushed through a particularly dense sections of growth and vanished.

"Hey!" Thane charged ahead... and when he emerged, he found that they'd reached their destination.

It was a small farmhouse, although the small patch of land on which it sat hadn't been a 'farm' for decades. A field of weeds and wild growth separated the house's rear door and the edge of the woods. The front yard was an untended pasture surrounded by a rotting fence that had all but vanished beneath the weeds.

"There..." Gallows pointed at the house. It didn't look quite as abandoned as the land that surrounded it... but that was only because of the flickering light shining out of one window, and the thin tendril of smoke rising from the chimney.

"Looks like somebody's home," said Thane.

"Not any more," said Gallows. He started across the field... marching boldly through the weeds as if unconcerned about anyone seeing him.

...as if he knew for a fact that there was no one around TO see him.

Yet, when he reached the door, he paused to listen before opening it. Thane came up beside him, and they positioned themselves on opposite sides of the door, pressing their backs against the walls.

"Open it," said Gallows.

"Who... me?"

"I don't see anyone else around. Make yourself useful."

"...and you ARE going to explain what you said earlier," Thane said with a frown. "About me being interesting." Then he spun away from the wall, delivering a kick the door before leaping behind Gallows. The door's rusty lock shattered, and the door flew open... hitting the wall with a BANG.

"Your turn," said Thane. He nudged Gallows toward the open door.

Gallows hardly moved... but his cape flared out around him and, in the blink of an eye, he was through the door. Thane darted in behind... scanning the room for-

There was no one home. Someone HAD been home quite recently, however. A plate of bacon and eggs rested on a table near the window, along with a full-oil lamp providing more than enough light to cook and eat by. Against the far wall was a combination stove/fireplace; a fading fire still hissed among the glowing logs.

Yes, someone had been here as recently as a few hours ago. Thane wasn't sure, but their disappearance probably... MAYBE... had something to do with the large gaping HOLE in the middle of the floor.

The hole took up almost half of the floor, and whatever had caused it must have taken a good deal of furniture along with it, since the table and fireplace were the only two pieces remaining. The shattered remains of what might have been a chair lay scattered around the hole's edge. There was no sign of a bed or sleeping mat. It... and whoever was in it...had probably gone down into the hole when it first opened.

"...whoa..." Thane gasped as he circled the hole, keeping well away from it. "What did this?"

"I have no idea," said Gallows. The assassin hadn't moved once he had entered the house. He was still by the back door, examining the house from where he stood.

"Is this what you expected?"

"I didn't expect anything... I just knew that something had happened."

"Well..." Thane started to say something, but then he paused when he realized he was standing in a small, but unmistakable puddle of blood. "This doesn't look good."

"He tried to fight it," said Gallows. He was moving now... walking toward the table. "He sat there, eating. She was... hmmm..."

Gallows scanned the room again... his eyes came to rest at the edge of the hole.

"...asleep. He must have gotten up alone... fixed his own breakfast. The hole opened beneath the bed. It took her-"

"WHAT took her?" said Thane.

"No idea. But he saw it-" Gallows glanced back at the table. "He got up... tried to save her. It hit him... there-"

Gallows pointed to the wall directly behind Thane. There was blood on it. In fact, there was a long streak of it leading down the wall, across the floor, and into the hole.

"Then it grabbed him and dragged him in," said Gallows. He nodded to himself. Then he approached the hole. He peered down into the darkness. Thane joined him.

"Are they dead?" said Thane.

Gallows shook his head.

"There are people alive down there?"

"SOMETHING is alive down there," Gallows corrected. "Alive, but... very strange. Very hard to read. I can't tell if its one... or many."

"What exactly are you reading? How do you know all this stuff you just said?"

Gallows frowned and ignored the question.

"Gallows?"

The assassin kept staring into the hole.

"Hello? Anybody home?"

"Go back to the cabin," said Gallows.

"What? Why?"

"Go back and fetch Emerson. We need him here."

"Why?"

"Because he's the smallest. He's the only one that can fit through those passages."

"WHAT passages?!"

Gallows made a gesture, and a softly glowing ball of light appeared over his left shoulder. The globe descended into the hole, illuminating it from within. It went straight down for a long way, growing progressively smaller in diameter as it did. At the bottom, it branched off into three narrow passages that went in several directions... each of them was too small for a man to stand up in... but just the right size for someone to crawl through if they weren't too bulky.

"Someone's got to go down there," said Gallows. "You or I might fit, but if those passages get any narrower-"

"Emerson."

Gallows nodded.

"But Hars said nobody goes off alone. I can't just leave you here-"

"Unless that ring of yours can work telepathy, you don't have much choice."

"Hmmmmm," said Thane. "Telepathy I can't do... but I can do one better."

Thane walked outside and looked up at the sky. Dawn wasn't far away, but the sky was still dark.

"What are you doing-" Gallows began.

Thane stroked the gem of his ring, then aimed his fist skyward-

FWOOOOM!!

A roaring column of flame leapt from his fist and exploded in the air above them. The fire spread outward... then drew back in on itself, creating a giant shape in the sky:

A rose. A rose of fire, suspended in the sky above the farmhouse.

"Night's Bloom," Thane said with a satisfied nod. "THAT oughta get their attention."

"So much for keeping a low profile," Gallows sighed.

---

Peace and quiet.

It wasn't until Floyd was old that he gained an appreciation for the simpler things in life... Like a calm, quiet night. Or day, for that matter. Of course, with a young boy in the house, Floyd didn't have a chance to partake of his new favorite pastime as often as he would have liked; but he really didn't have cause to complain much. Casey wasn't all that bad as young boy's went... At least,he wasn't until he'd gone and gotten his fool self possessed.

With all he screaming and knocking about earlier, Floyd thought he'd never get a chance for a good night's sleep. But thanks to December and his friend, that was over and done with. Casey was safe... And quiet... And now Floyd was free to lay in his soft bed and flirt with sleep.

... If only it wasn't so damn cold.

Floyd huddled under his blanket, trying to decide whether it was worth it to get up and stoke the fire in the fireplace... Or if it was better to just lay here and squeeze what little rest he could out of the last remaining hours before dawn. If he got up, it would be several precious minutes before his mind settled down to sleep once more.

The house had always been drafty, but THIS? What was...

Ohhhhh...

The sudden thought shook the last vestiges of sleep from Floyd's mind. He leaned up in his bed and propped himself up on his bony elbows as he looked around the room.

"M-Mr. December?" he said softly. "Mr. December, are you in here?"

Of course he wasn't. There was no one in the room except Floyd.

Floyd glanced at the closet. Maybe... Maybe...

No, not now. Not with a house full of people. Not with a blessed Holy Man under his roof.

The thought of N'Doki made Floyd shiver even more than the cold. December was bad enough... there were risks even being in the same CITY as such a man. But the December he remembered wouldn't be the type to hang around with a holy man unless there were something very serious in the works. More serious than usual, for Bephal. Floyd had decided earlier that it was in his best interest to find out just what they were up to... And see if he could profit from it. But now, in the dead of night in the coldest room in Bephal, that idea seemed a lot less... Sane. Especially given December's past track record of dealing with undue curiosity.

And yet, it wasn't December that frightened him. It was the stranger, Nodoki. The holy man. He had helped Casey, sure enough... but-

A sudden shout interrupted Floyd's musings. Actually, it was more than a yelp than a shout, and the throat from which it come was undoubtedly Francesca's. She was with Casey, asleep at his bedside.

Floyd reluctantly tossed the covers back and dragged his aching, ancient legs over the edge of the bed... immediately jamming his feet into his furred slippers.

From down the hall came the sound of a door slamming. Hard.

Followed a second later by the frantic arrhythmic pounding of fists against wood.

"FATHERRR!" Francesca shouted... a true shout this time. Her voice was muffled... she was still in Casey's room, and it was HER fists that Floyd heard pounding on the wood.

Floyd shuffled to his bedroom door and flung it open. His room was at the very end of the upstairs hallway, on the opposite side of the staircase from the other rooms. Floyd could see down the entire length of the hall... could see Casey coming slowly toward him, moving past the closed doors of the other rooms.

The boy was upright, leaning forward at perhaps a 30-degree angle, with the very tips of his toes dragging the floor almost as if he were walking on them. But he wasn't walking. He was floating.

And he wasn't doing so silently.

Casey's eyes were wide open, and his lips were in constant movement, murmuring the same word over and over again like a mystics chant:

"...blood, blood, blood, blood, blood, blood..."

"Casey!" Floyd rushed into the hall...

...only to find that he couldn't. He could move, but he couldn't move FORWARD. There was something holding him back. He didn't feel any hands or force on his body, but every time he tried to move into the hall it was as if he were pushing against an invisible wall.

The same force must be holding Casey's room door closed, trapping Francesca inside.

"FRANCESCA!" he called.

The incessant pounding on Casey's door paused-

"FATHER! IT'S CASEY!"

"I see him!"

Casey continued to float toward him in an almost leisurely fashion... his young lips constantly babbling the single syllable over and over again:

"...blood, blood, blood, blood, blood..."

"I can't get the door open!" said Francesca. "Father HELP him!"

Floyd tried once again to step into the hall. Again, something intangible yet impassible shoved him back into his bedroom.

"I can't!" he shouted. "I can't get out of the room!"

As Casey floated past the other bedrooms, one of the doors rattled violently, as if something had thrown itself against it from the other side. It was December's room. The door creaked... but it didn't open. It rattled again, with the same result.

"...blood, blood, blood, blood, blood, blood..."

"We're TRAPPED!" Floyd yelled down the hallway. "HELP US!"

There was a pause... a silence broken only by the steady droning of Casey's voice...

"...blood, blood, blood, blood, blood, blood..."

December's door began to change color... slowly fading to a pale gray as frost began to collect on it.

Then the frozen door shattered.

December, the huge icy hulk of a man, charged boldly out into the hallway-

"...blood, blood, blood, blood, blood, blood..."

WHUMP!

-where he hit something invisible and literally bounced back into his room.

"AAGH!" December grunted. He re-appeared immediately, but instead of charging, he extended his hand to test the invisible barrier. His sky-blue eyes turned questioningly to Floyd. The curious look melted into a frown.

Casey was a mere two yards away from Floyd now... approaching the edge of the staircase. The boy's eyes fixed on his grandfather for an instant:

"...blood, blood, blood, blood, blood, blood..."

He spoke directly into Floyd's face, as if lecturing him in a language that consisted solely of that one, single word.

"...blood, blood, blood, blood, blood, blood..."

And then Casey turned the corner and began floating down the stairs.

"I can't hear him!" Francesca screamed from behind the barricaded door. "He's getting further away! WHERE IS HE GOING!?

"The stairs!" Floyd replied.

"Somebody HELP him!"

"N'DOKI!" December bellowed. His was the voice of a decorated general demanding the presence of a buck private.

"...blood, blood, blood, blood, blood, blood..."

A huge knot of darkness surged through the door next to December's... it was a shadow, who's shape resembled a giant clenched fist. The fist reached out into the hallway, and then opened.

The holy man, N'Doki, stood calmly in the heart of the darkness, clutching his staff like a weapon. He took one step forward and, behind him, the shadowy fist closed in on itself and receded back through the wall through which it had emerged.

"...blood, blood, blood, blood, blood, blood..."

"Help the boy!" Floyd pointed to Casey, who was just floating out of sight on the stairway.

"RELEASE DEM!" The necromancer's voice boomed.

Casey's bedroom door flew open and Francesca spilled out into the hall, landing nearly at N'Doki's feet. December joined her and tried to help her up, but she jerked out of December's grasp and ran down the stairs screaming her son's name.

"CASEY!"

Floyd reached the stairs right behind her, and caught sight of Casey floating toward the kitchen.

There were a lot of knives in the kitchen. And Casey seemed to have a new fascination with the word 'blood.'

"FRANCESCA!" he yelled, starting to descend after her. "FRANCESCA!"

Behind him, December and N'Doki stood solemnly in the empty hallway.

"Your timeliness leaves much to be desired," said December.

"Does it?" N'Doki replied with a smile. "Perhaps N'Doki not want to spoil de show for everyone, eh?"

"Your 'show' ends now." December headed for the stairs, with N'Doki following calmly behind him.

"Ohhhh, somehow I do not t'ink so," said the necromancer. "I do believ dat de best is yet to come!"

---

They found Floyd and Francesca in the kitchen, pounding futilely on the closed door that lead down to the basement.

"It's another one of those barriers!" said Floyd.

"He went down there and locked us out!"

"Stand back," said N'Doki. The woman and the old man backed away as N'Doki took position before the door. "Dis one commands you to depart dis place!"

The door bulged outward... then sank back into place. When N'Doki tried the knob, it was still locked firmly.

"DEPART!" he commanded, striking the door with his staff.

The door flew off of its hinges and slid down the wooden steps leading into the basement. Francesca was right behind it, shooting past N'Doki and vanishing into the dark depths.

But the depths did not remain dark for long. A blast of white light beamed up from the basement, accompanied by a dozen unearthly wails and Francesca's lone, frantic cry.

Floyd grabbed a carving knife from the block on the table, then hobbled down the stairs after his daughter.

"Dis does not bode well," said N'Doki as he and December followed.

The basement was empty save for a few rotting barrels, a crate, and the door that N'Doki had sent sailing down the stairs a moment earlier. Casey was in the middle of the room... floating halfway between the floor and ceiling... slowly twisting in the air. His constant drone of:

"...blood, blood, blood, blood, blood, blood..."

Had increased to a frantic, almost indecipherable tempo. All around him, glowing translucent figures darted back and forth, circling the boy like a pack of predators that had cornered their prey. The figures had no substance, but were instead composed of a smoky luminescence that filled the entire chamber with an eerie glow. There were a dozen of them when December first caught a glimpse of the boy, but more were pouring through the walls and ceiling. By the time December reached the bottom stair, their number had more than doubled... with no sign of slowing down.

"You leave him alone!" said Francesca. She reached for her son, but three of the shapes peeled away from the mass circling Casey and shot across her path, knocking her back into Floyd's arms. "CASEY!" she yelled as Floyd frantically dragged her away from the floating boy.

"I thought you ended this!" Floyd shouted across the room at N'Doki.

"N'Doki frighten dem away, dey came back. Dey came back stronger. Dey still want de boy!"

"But WHY!?!" said Francesca.

"DO SOMETHING!" Floyd pleaded.

"N'Doki destroy dem... dey will flee perhaps, but more will come to take dere place!"

"How many spirits are we dealing with here?" said December. The wailing shapes were now too fast and to numerous to count. They swam around him in a horde so thick that Casey was barely visible through their layers of shapes.

"...hundreds..." said N'Doki. The necromancer walked toward them and stretched out his arm.

The cloud of spirits distorted... warping away from him at first, but then reversing direction and surging toward him... swelling into a shape that resembled a face.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!" the face howled. It was not a howl of anger, but of fear. Even with such power... in such numbers, they still feared the necromancer.

But they did not flee.

"Hmmmmmm..." N'Doki mused. He lowered his hand and watched the ghosts, squinting to see the boy floating calmly at the center of the storm.

"HELP HIM, PLEASE!" Francesca shouted from the corner of the room. Floyd had given up trying to hold her back, but she was not quite foolish enough to charge the spirits again. At least, not yet.

"Hmmmm, perhaps not... not yet..."

December's hand appeared on N'Doki's shoulder. But before December could open his mouth, N'Doki spoke.

"Listen!" he said. He placed one slender finger to his ear and lowered his head slightly. "Listen to dem..."

December listened. As focused his attention on the sounds the spirits made... those sounds began to change. The wailing howls became something else: Words. Long streams of words compressed and speeded up until they sounded like incomprehensible screeches. And even though December could recognize the sounds AS words, he was unable to decipher what those words were. They were too fast... too distorted... to much for even December's mind to grasp.

"Dey are not hurting de boy!" N'Doki shouted at Francesca and Floyd. "Dey are TALKING to him! Dey haf somet'ing to say, and dey say it only to him!"

"Make them stop!" said Francesca. "Make them go away!"

"No," N'Doki had lowered his voice so that only December could hear him now. "I tink we need learn what dis is about. De best way be to ask the boy what dey say when dey finish, eh?"

"If you are certain it is safe," December replied.

"Certain? No," said N'Doki. "T'ings are rarely certain wit de dead..."

Just then, the basement began to shake. It started as a low vibration in the floor, but it grew quickly to a violent rattle that shook the walls and sent clouds of dust raining down on them from the ceiling.

"Is this part of the message?" said December. He grabbed the edge of a barrel to steady himself... and to keep the barrel from bashing itself to pieces as it bounced up and down on the floor. Meanwhile, something was happening in the center of the room. The spirits were circling faster, and long streams of them were veering away from the mass and vanishing up through the ceiling.

"They're leaving!" said Floyd. "Whatever you're doing... keep doing it! Shake the house apart if you have to!"

"Dis is not N'Doki's doing... perhaps it is not de spirits doing, either..."

The wails of the spirits began to change. Their long cries became short barks and chirps... quick blasts of words that became faster and shorter as more spirits began to depart. December still couldn't tell what the words were, but there was a distinct emotional tone to them that he had no trouble deciphering:

"WARNING!" December's bass voice boomed. "IT IS A WARNING!!!"


---

The other members of the Night's Bloom arrived quickly after Thane's signal. Hars was none-too-happy about Thane lighting up the night with a flaming rose, but when they all saw what had happened in the farmhouse, his anger was (mostly) forgotten.

"This is bad, lads," he said with an awed almost-whisper.

"Yeah," Emerson added. "Especially for the people who were LIVIN' here, eh?"

"Tell them what you told me, Gallows," said Thane. "Tell them what happened."

Gallows quickly related the same tale he had told Thane, piecing together what he thought had transpired in the farmhouse.

"You mind telling us how you figured all that out?" said Hemingway. His heavy battle-hammer hung from his fist... where it had been since he'd first seen the hole in the farmhouse floor.

"Yeah, I been wondering that bit myself?" said Emerson. "You're hangin' around the cabin with us, and then all of a sudden you know what's going on in a house on the other side of the woods? How's THAT work, eh?"

"I didn't know what had happened until I got here," Gallows said in an annoyed tone. "And even now, its only... an educated guess."

"Educated how?" asked Thane. "You psychic, too?"

"Oh wouldn't THAT be the icing on the cake," Emerson mumbled. "The creepiest one of us all, and he can read minds too..."

"Not minds," said Gallows. "I'm an empath."

Hemingway and Thane nodded silently. Hars showed no reaction... as he most likely knew this fact long before everyone else.

Emerson looked around at the others and waited for someone to explain what an empath was.

"I read emotions," said Gallows. "They're as plain to me as that sign Thane used to signal you. I sense them, and if they're strong enough... like fear or pain... I can track them."

"Or aim by them," Thane added, remembering how the mage's phantom-arrows always found their mark, even through walls.

Gallows nodded.

"Sometimes exceptionally strong emotions leave traces that I can detect even when the mind that made them is gone. Like back in the cabin, or right here. Satisfied?"

"So can you tell what I'm thinking or not?" said Emerson.

"You're thinking about going down in that hole and taking a look around," said Gallows.

"No, I wasn't-"

"You are now."

"...wow, he IS good..."

"Wait a minute here," said Hemingway. "You call us out here to tell us there's something under the ground killing people, and you want my brother to go down into its nest and poke around?"

"Question for ya:" said Emerson. "ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR DAMNED MIND!?!?!"

"Not its nest," Gallows explained, "Just a feeding hole. The creature isn't down there... but I do sense something faint. Some of its earlier meals might still be alive."

"Rescue mission," Hars said gravely.

"Maybe," said Gallows. "If they're alive, they'll have more of an idea what this thing is than WE do. Might be useful, valuable information... to certain interested parties."

"Valuable? NOW we're talkin!" said Emerson. He went over to the hole and looked down, already planning his descent. "Hmmm-"

"I'll go," said Hemingway, appearing at Emerson's side.

"Don't be ridiculous, you can't fit down there. Hmm.. these walls look smooth." Emerson knelt down to get a closer look at the tunnel leading straight down from the farmhouse floor. The dirt and rock was almost featureless... it had been pushed aside by something very fast or very powerful. The size of the hole seemed to change somewhat as it went deeper, as if the thing got bigger on its way to the surface. But that created a slight incline that more than made up for the relative lack of footholds. No, climbing wouldn't be a problem.

SEEING, however...

"Ummm, any idea how I'm gonna see what the hell I'm doing down there?" Emerson asked.

"Here-" Gallows cast a spell, and another small light-globe appeared... this one over Emerson's left shoulder. It hovered near his ear like a hummingbird. "It will follow you."

"You sure about this, little brother?"

"Yeah, yeah," said Emerson as he started to climb down. Sure enough, the mage's light-globe followed him... even glowing brighter as the darkness closed in.

"Be careful!" Hemingway shouted from above.

"...whatever..."

Emerson reached the bottom of the hole, where he found not one lateral tunnel, but THREE. All were quite small... nowhere near the massive size of the hole in the floor above. Emerson could fit, but it would be a tight squeeze. Fortunately, he didn't mind tight squeezed. He picked the largest hole which, if his sense of direction was correct, lead back toward town. He waved back at the others, then crawled in...

---

"I don't like this," said Hemingway Shaw. He looked accusingly at Gallows, as if he suspected... But couldn't prove... that the assassin had personally put an arrow right through Emerson's heart.

"Nor do I," said Harrison Blackshear, interrupting Hemingway's thousand-yard stare by stepping between him an Gallows. "I don't like things creeping around under our feet, waiting to snatch us down whenever it takes a liking to."

"So you send my brother to his doom just to satisfy your curiosity?"

"If that's the way you see it," said Harrison. "But from where I stood, it sure as hell looked like he crawled down there of his own free will. Nobody here put a knife to his throat and made him do anything. And besides... you talk like he's already dead. You have so little faith in your own flesh and blood, Shaw?"

"Whatever happened up here is more than a match for my little brother. He could BE dead already, for all we know."

"I'm tracking him," said Gallows. He pointed off toward town, but of course there was nothing there to see except a bloodstained wall. "He's headed that way. I'm losing him, though."

"Losing?" said Hars. "How's that? I thought you said-"

"I track by emotion. Emerson's aren't strong enough now to track more than a few yards. There... Now he's gone entirely. I can't sense him at all. But if he runs into something down there... I'll know."

"I don't think that's quite good enough," said Harrison.

"Me either." Hemingway leaned over and looked into the dark hole. HEY, EMERSON!!" he shouted..

"Is that a smart thing to do?" Thane mused aloud. "Yelling like that?" He was standing near the door, keeping an equal watch on the events in house and the yard outside.

"EMERSON!" Hemingway shouted again.

"...WHAT?" a tiny, muffled voice called back from below.

"Strong emotion, right?" Hemingway glanced at Gallows, who nodded in return. Hemingway didn't say anything else... He just waited.

"WHAT?" Emerson called again, somewhat louder.

"UHHH..." Hemingway said hesitantly. "NOTHING! NEVER MIND!"

"NEVER MIND WHAT!?"

"NOTHING! JUST MY IMAGINATION!"

There was a long pause.

"...I think I've got something," said Gallows. Hemingway waved at him to be silent.

"Well what WAS it?" said Emerson. "Is something coming or not?"

"NO, NO,... I JUST THOUGHT I SAW A FEW SPIDERS, THAT'S ALL..."

"WHAT!?! SPIDERS!?!"

"That got him," said Gallows. "He's lit up like a lighthouse now. Doesn't care for spiders does he?"

"He had a bad experience with the wee bastards when he was little."

"When he was little?" Thane chuckled. "When was that... Yesterday?"

"WERE THEY BIG SPIDERS?" Emerson called.

"NOT REALLY," said Hemingway. "BOUT THE SIZE OF MY FIST, I'D SAY."

Gallows flinched, briefly shutting one eye as if he'd had a sudden pain in his head.

"He REALLY doesn't like spiders..." the assassin said softly.

"BUT IT WAS JUST MY IMAGINATION, SO NEVER MIND," said Hemingway. "MIGHT WANT TO KEEP MOVING, THOUGH... JUST IN CASE."

There was no response from below.

"He's moving again," Gallows informed them.

"Can you get into his mind and tell us what he's seeing?" said Hars.

"No," the assassin-mage replied. "Doesn't work that way. He'll just have to tell us what's down there when he comes back up.

"IF he comes back up," said Hemingway.

---

At December's shout, the cloud of spirits dispersed... the remaining shapes scattered in an explosion of light, and Casey dropped to the basement floor like a stone. But the violent shaking of the floor did not abate. It increased.

"GRAB THE BOY!" December ordered as he backed away from the center of the room Francesca tore away from her father and ran for the boy. She scooped the startled child up in her arms and had barely taken two steps when a section of the floor caved in. Had she not taken those two steps, she and the boy would have been lost. But instead, she ended up teetering at the edge of the yawning black hole that had opened up directly under where the boy had been laying.

Francesca screamed as she started to fall backward-

"I got you," said N'Doki. The necromancer grabbed the woman by the hem of her robe and yanked her away from the hole... she cleared it just as an elongated shape exploded out of the darkness beneath the house. A single, enormous tentacle thrust into the basement from below and began sweeping wildly back and forth... seeking the meal that had just eluded it. N'Doki backed away from the creature... but did nothing to stop it as more and more of the tentacle unrolled into the room.

"Upstairs!" Floyd shouted at Francesca. He pointed at the steps leading to the first floor. December, Francesca and Casey were right next to them, but Floyd was trapped in a far corner of the room. He didn't even TRY to get past the thing from below... he just crouched down and looked terrified. "Get upstairs!"

"FATHER!"

"He is right, we must get away from this thing-" December put his arm around Francesca and ushered her toward the steps-

"LOOK OUT!" Floyd screamed.

Instinctively, December ducked... dragging Francesca and Casey down with him.

WHOOSH!

The single tentacle swept overhead-

CRASH!

The end of it struck the wooden staircase, bringing the entire structure crashing down before them in an explosion of wooden planks and beams. One large beam flipped rapidly end over end as it flew straight toward them. December saw it coming, but was a bit too slow to avoid it. The board caught him across the side of his skull, knocking him backward. He landed on his back, dazed, with bright blue blood weeping from the deep gash on his temple.

"Mama!" Casey wiggled out of his mother's arms and reached for December. "Mama, look-"

"Shh! Don't touch him!" Francesca dragged him back, and they retreated toward the pile of rubble that had once been their escape route. "He's bad... he's a bad man..."

"But-"

"Shh!"

December groaned as he tried to sit up. The room was spinning... shaking... He fell back to the floor with a grunt and pressed his hand to his head to stop the bleeding. The air around him grew colder...

Meanwhile, the tentacle had whipped back in the opposite direction and slammed into the wall near Floyd, who was now crawling frantically toward N'Doki.

"Help me! Help me!"

The tentacle peeled away from the wall and came for him

"AAAAA!" Floyd screamed.

"Mahalbiya!" N'Doki spat. He thrust one hand toward the creature and jagged streams of energy leapt from his fingertips. But instead of the pale bluish-white heat of electricity, N'Doki's blast was a deep, sinister orange accompanied by the sinister crackle of shattering bones. They bathed the tentacle, and everywhere the arcs touched they left not burns, but wounds, boils and sores in their wake.

The entire floor heaved upward as the thing convulsed. It half-retreated back into the hole... but then it paused and surged upward again. This time, accompanied by a half-dozen smaller tentacles that all sought N'Doki. They wrapped around the necromancer and yanked him toward the hole. N'Doki pulled back, shouting several syllables in an ancient, nearly unpronounceable language. An orangish haze surrounded his frail form... and the smaller tentacles retreated from him.

Unfortunately, they were merely been a distraction. The larger tendril slammed into necromancer, knocking him AND his aura clear across the room. Then it went for Floyd, wrapping around his scrambling legs and yanking him up into the air.

"YaaaaGH!

Floyd fished the carving knife from the pocket of his robe and began stabbing the tentacle as hard and fast as he could... which was quite vigorous for an old man.

"AAA! LEGGO! LEGGO!"

The tentacle, now oozing a thick substance that was not blood, released him. But when Floyd hit the floor, he grabbed his leg and screamed in pain.

"My leg! I can't move!"

By now, December was on his knees, finally regaining enough balance to stand. N'Doki was motionless on the floor, and now something else was rising out of the hole. Yet another tentacle, but this one ended in a stinger-like barb that was already dripping a milky fluid.

"Use the crates! Climb up the rubble to the top!" he ordered Francesca. December grabbed the closest thing he found... the same board that had hit him. When the poisoned stinger shot toward Floyd, December swung it and knocked it out of the air. He pinned the stinger to the floor with the board, then reached down and grabbed it just below the presumably poisonous barb-

The tentacle grew brittle and snapped off in his hand... frozen solid.

A scream turned his attention to the pile of debris that was what remained of the stairs. Francesca and Casey were trying to climb up to the kitchen door above... but Francesca had made the mistake of looking behind her. The one large tentacle slammed into the debris near the bottom and began shaking the entire thing apart as it tunneled upward through the debris. Francesca and Casey were nowhere near the top. N'Doki was close to them... the necromancer had moved, but hadn't managed to get up yet. Floyd lay at December's feet, whimpering at him to help his daughter.

"Quiet," December snapped. He held his hand before him, palms facing each other, and closed his eyes. He poured his energy into the empty space between his hands, forcing it to condense into a solid object... a gemstone reminiscent of a gigantic diamond, but a thousand times more fragile.

December tossed the frost-gem into the hole. He heard it shatter, and suddenly a maelstrom of super-cooled air erupted below. The entire house shuddered as the creature below convulsed in shock at the sudden explosion. In the basement, the tentacle tore free of the debris, collapsing the pile and sending Francesca and Casey tumbling back to the floor. The tentacle writhed and shuddered across the floor... yet it showed no signs of retreating.

December grabbed a nearby broom and snapped off the end of it with his foot... creating long pointed stick. He charged the tentacle and jammed the broom handle into its flesh. The makeshift spear went in deep and easy, but instead of pulling it out for another jab, December applied more force to the broom... levering the creature up and back toward the hole.

The tentacle throbbed and pushed back against him... but only ended up impaling itself further.

December saw something move out of the corner of his eye. The necromancer...

"N'Doki, NOW!"

December threw himself out of the way as N'Doki let loose with another bolt:

"Mahalbiya!" the frightening crackle of arcane energies again filled the basement. N'Doki scoured the creature with a sustained blast. The tentacle held firm for a moment...

...long enough for December to begin forming another gem. He threw this smaller crystal right at the base of the tentacle where it emerged form the floor.

"EVERYONE GET DOWN!"

The crystal shattered, and the air in the basement screamed as the heat was ripped out of it. The end of the tentacle... still bathed in N'Doki's magic... grew still. December expected it to shatter or break off, but it merely paused-

-and then shot back down into the hole. There was a long, rumbling shudder as something large moved away underground... and then silence.

"...eeehhh-" In the sub-freezing air, Floyd's groan billowed around him in a white fog. He reached up, December caught his hand and helped him to his feet. "C-c-c-cold!"

"Apologies," said December.

"No, no...no, just g-g-get me out of h-here... Francesca?"

"We're fine," said the woman. Her son stood close behind her, almost hiding, yet staring with wide eyes at December. "I suppose I owe you thanks once again," she said reluctantly.

December shook his head. He glanced at N'Doki, and then down into the hole the creature had left.

"It is not dead," said the necromancer. "It should be... But it is not. It has merely departed."

"The ice-gem should have killed it. It took two direct hits-"

"And two from me as well," said N'Doki. "Yet all we mange to do is frighten it away. NOW do you doubt dat dere is a force at work here?

"I never doubted that," said December. His fingers stroked the skin around his wound. It would heal, but he was fortunate that the impact didn't crack his skull. The pain would be a reminder that his place was NOT on the front lines. Not any more.

"Remind you of de old times, eh?" N'Doki chuckled.

"I do believe that we are both far too old for the 'old times.' That is, unless you ENJOY being thrown across rooms. I do not."

N'Doki chuckled. December wondered if perhaps all of this WAS entertainment for the necromancer... Despite the seeming risk. After all, for N'Doki, death was just a temporary inconvenience.

"So what are we going to do now?" said Francesca. "I mean... We can't STAY here in this house...not with that thing running around loose-"

"I'm not leaving!" Floyd said a bit too quickly.

"The creature lives underground... And there is no evidence that its movements are restricted to this house. Relocating would be dangerous and unnecessary. We should be safe here, on the upper floors."

"Unless it rips the whole house down," said Francesca. "THEN what do we do?"

"That risk would not be lessened by relocating. Indeed, if we leave the house, it may simply suck us down while we walk."

"You're just full of answers, aren't you?"

"I am not a stranger to such situations," said December. "Although now I prefer to leave the physical heroics to those better suited to it."

"Well th-THAT'S good to know," said Floyd. "For a second there, I though you were gonna suggest going down there AFTER that thing."

"Nonsense," said December, frowning at the very thought. "That... would be utterly and completely ridiculous..."

---

Emerson scrambled down the narrow tunnel on his hands and knees, eyes sweeping the narrow passage ahead of him. He could see quite well with the aid of Gallows' mage-light. Before him stretched a yawning tube of dirt and rock. Behind him lay more of the same, although, with the glowing globe hovering ahead of him, the passage behind was obscured by a hideously magnified version of his own shadow.

Light ahead. Darkness behind. And Emerson poised on the line dividing the two.

He imagined that Hemingway would say something profound or poetic about that... but HE wasn't Hemingway, and he was more concerned about what else could be down here with him.

There were no spiders yet, but there were plenty of crevices and holes all around him, waiting to belch forth unending hordes of the eight-legged beasts at any moment.

...oh, and there was also the small matter of whatever man-eating monster made this hole in the first place... but THAT was just a minor, secondary concern.

Spiders.

Emerson shuddered.

He kept moving as fast as he could... which was quite fast, considering the tightness of the tunnel. But Emerson's small size and excellent flexibility served him well. Even when the tunnel began to shrink to an even smaller diameter, it barely slowed him down. He could wiggle on his belly almost as fast as he could crawl, and a few minutes into the exploration, he was doing just that.

The tunnel itself seemed unremarkable... but then Emerson didn't make a habit of exploring strange monster-holes, so he couldn't say what was remarkable and what wasn't. It was a hole. At first, the walls were unusually smooth, but they got rougher and more 'normal' as he went along... going further and further away from the farmhouse. Rocks and sharp roots tore at Emerson's clothes as he dragged himself forward...literally using only his fingers and toes at some of the narrowest points. The tunnel made several twists and turns. It dipped down at an angle for a while, and then reversed directions and headed back toward the surface for a distance... only to veer downward again, all in the space of ten minutes. Emerson encountered several other branches intersecting the main tunnel he was in, but they were all much too small for him... some barely the size of his arm. Perfect for spiders, but not for him. He ignored them and kept to the main passage.

The going got steadily harder, but not because the passage got smaller. It was the roots. There were more roots and holes than there were dirt. Bundles of them jutting into the tunnel from all directions... not just down, but up and from the sides as well. Whatever had dug this tunnel had barely disturbed them... only the dirt and rock that surrounded them was pushed aside and compacted. The roots were left to drag across Emerson's back, belly, and sides like claws seeking to snare him. The roots got bigger, thicker, harder, and more numerous as he went... eventually forcing him to take out his knife clear a path for himself in several places.

Emerson had no idea where he was, but if he was under the forest and close to the surface, then THAT might explain the network of tough roots all around him. He didn't know what else it could be. He didn't like it... it was slowing him down.

As he squeezed past one clogged section, something pricked his arm... something that didn't feel like a root OR a rock. He had no room to jerk his arm back in reflex... so he just stopped moving and lifted his arm slowly, so he could see what had jabbed him.

A knife.

A long blade was half buried in the tangled mat of roots that was now the floor of the passage. The very tip of it had sliced open his sleeve and left a thin line down the bare skin of his forearm.

"Oh THAT'S nice," he groaned sarcastically. "Now, I gotta worry about bloody SWORDS stickin up outta the ground..."

Emerson paused to examine the blade in the light from Gallows' floating globe. It was an oddly-shaped blade, with an odd color as well. Almost the color of-

"...gold? O-HOOO!"

Emerson's nimble fingers quickly freed the knife from its hiding place. He roots held it fixed and tight, but they were no match for Emerson's greed. When he had it in his hand, he saw that the dagger was huge... almost the length of his forearm from elbow to wrist. The handle had holes into which he could slip his fingers, and the slightly curved blade was serrated along half of its length. It was gold in color, but incredibly light, which meant that it couldn't have been ACTUAL gold. But Emerson's disappointment in the metal was more than quenched by the jewels encrusted in its hilt. Tiny emeralds, rubies, and sapphires ringed the blunt end like a crown. In fact, that's exactly what it looked like: a crown.

"Well, well, well... I knew this wouldn't be a total loss!"

Emerson dug around in the roots to see if any OTHER treasure were buried there and, finding nothing, he continued on with his new dagger clasped in his hand. He noticed that despite the largeness of the blade and the relative smallness of his hand, the weapon felt PERFECT in his grasp. Almost as if it had been made specifically for him. The balance was exquisite. While it clearly was not a throwing knife, Emerson guessed he could hit a target with it just as easily as he could with his custom-made daggers.

Emerson's mind was on just how he was going to test out his new acquisition when he realized he had heard something. He had heard it before... for several minutes in fact... continuous background noise that he only NOW thought worthy of his attention But once he realized it was there, he stopped moving and listened. It was a rustling, scratching, scraping sound. The sound of movement... but it didn't seem to be getting any closer. Or further away. Whatever it was... it was ahead of him, just past the curtain of roots that blocked his path not five yards distant.

Emerson waited and listened to the sound. It stopped, started again... got louder... stopped again... started once more...

"...probably some animal," Emerson whispered to himself. He crawled forward cautiously. Whatever was making the sound didn't seem to react to his approach. When he reached the curtain of roots, he used his new blade to cut them. They felt like solid pieces of wood in his hand, yet they fell away easily before the blade's razor-sharp edge. When he had enough of a space cleared away, he inched forward just enough to see what lay on the other side. The mage-light responded to his motion by floating ahead, clearing the curtain and drifting into the space beyond.

Emerson was expecting to see a continuation of the same tight passage that he had been crawling in for the last half-hour, but what lay beyond the roots was something else entirely. It was a chamber of sorts, although it reminded Emerson more of a rat's nest than any kind of natural formation. But, if this were the work of some rodent, it would have to be a rat the size of a large house.

It was a cavernous space shaped roughly like an egg stood upright. The walls were of rock and compacted soil, but that was only a guess... since Emerson could see very little of the walls themselves. A thick layer of knotted, gnarled roots covered the wall like a carpet. But, not satisfied with merely covering the walls, the roots also crisscrossed the chamber itself like a canopy of vines in a jungle. They came from every direction and every angle, like a twisted web woven by a spider that was both blind and deranged. The roots themselves were of all sizes... ranging from the thickness of a finger to the size of a small tree-trunk. The smaller ones were much more numerous. They formed the bulk of the web, while the larger ones served as anchors and points of attachment.

Emerson froze in the tiny opening he had created, and peered out at the chamber. He had obviously found the creature's home.

And, the more he looked at it... the more it all resembled a spider's nest. A GIANT spider's nest.

Regular spiders were bad enough.

Emerson was already backing away from the hole when he remembered the sound. He was still hearing it, and it was coming from the chamber. That fact SHOULD have sent him scurrying away even faster, but he DID come here for information. He could, at the very least, take another look around and see what was moving. A quick look. Very, very quick.

He eased himself forward again and stuck his head through the opening.

Realizing that he was being an idiot, he backed away yet again and took his 'second look' from the safety of the tunnel. If he couldn't see it from there, then it wasn't meant for him to see.

He scanned the wall opposite him, searching the roots for signs of movement. As much as he wanted to see nothing and go back to join the others... he actually DID see something move in the chamber. There was a knotted cluster of roots on the wall opposite him that resembled a bulge or tumor. It had moved.

Egg...egg...egg... giant spider's egg! Emerson panicked for a second. But no, it wasn't an egg. Eggs didn't move.... well, not as far as HE knew. But, most importantly, eggs didn't have FEET sticking out of them.

Yes. Feet. A pair of human-sized and human-shaped feet protruded from the bottom of the bulge. They were bare, and they ended in clawed toes that seemed vaguely familiar to Emerson, though he couldn't remember where he would have seen such ugly appendages before. And once he saw the feet, Emerson began to pick out other details... glimpses of something beneath the roots. Something being held there... held ALMOST motionless. Yet as Emerson watched, the humanoid shape shuddered and twitched beneath the roots. Was it trying to free itself? Or was it merely twitching in some fitful semblance of sleep? Emerson couldn't tell... but when the thing moved again, he did remember where he had seen it before.

It was the creature. The messenger. The thing that had come to see Hars... the one that spoke like a man (almost) and moved like a cat/monkey. It was THAT thing.

Hars hadn't bothered to tell them what it was or where it had come from, but Emerson was almost 100% certain that it didn't belong HERE.

It moved again. And again. Scratching. Shrugging.

It was definitely trying to free itself.

Emerson considered his options.

On the one hand: Giant spider's nest made by something powerful enough to burst through floors and snatch people down out of their homes.

On the OTHER hand: Potential reward. The trapped creature was owned and commanded by their employer... if he freed it...

Emerson looked at the knife he had found. It was a very nice knife. Bejeweled and maybe even enchanted, judging from the way it had cut those roots. Very, VERY nice.... and he had it right here, in his hand.

Wasn't that enough?

HELL NO!

Emerson crawled out of the tunnel and grabbed hold of the roots that covered the chamber walls. He hauled himself out and then scanned the space between him and the creature. He could crawl along the wall to reach it relatively easily, OR he could use the roots crisscrossing the room to reach it even faster.

When dealing with giant spiders, faster was usually better.

Emerson eyed the roots and spotted a few that looked thick enough to support him. The nearest one was a few yards above. Emerson placed his blade between his teeth and started climbed. The roots made excellent hand-holds... until one came loose from the wall and nearly send him flying down to the bottom of the chamber. He quickly grabbed an adjacent root and steadied himself. Perhaps these things weren't as sturdy as they looked. Especially when...

Emerson blinked. He had looked to see where the root had come loose from...

...and he found himself looking at a human face... right into a pair of human eyes.

There was someone there, beneath the roots. It looked like a woman, but it was hard to tell. Whoever it was, they had died badly. The face was bruised and the skull was crushed beyond recognition. Only the upper part of the head... the eyes and forehead, remained whole. Her flesh had shriveled against her bones, giving her broken body a raisin-like appearance. But, strangely enough, she didn't appear ROTTED at all. Just shriveled. The characteristic smell of death and rotting meat was nowhere to be found. The root that had come loose in Emerson's hand had been anchored not to solid rock or compacted earth... but to the soft tissues of the dead woman's corpse.

Her throat, to be precise.

The root itself was different than the others around it... soft, flexible... and hollow. A viscous mixture of blood, sap, and some milky substance oozed from the inside.

"oh, now THAT'S appealing..." Emerson said with a disgusted frown. He tossed the strange root away, then took a quick look at the body to see if the old woman had brought anything valuable with her to her grave. He didn't see any jewelry, but he did find more of the strange roots growing out of her body. The milky fluid was moving through them in steady, disgusting streams, draining the corpse of its various liquids and piping them off to some unknown destination.

Seeing this, Emerson reconsidered rescuing the creature... but he continued on anyway. So far, there was nothing here that was even remotely threatening. And, if something appeared, it would find that Emerson was a lot quicker than he seemed.

He continued to haul himself up, searching for more strange roots and hidden bodies as he did. He found none, and he eventually came to his destination... a long, thick root spanning the width of the cave. He climbed up onto it. The root was about four inches thick... much thicker than the high-wire he used to do back flips and handstands on in the circus. On THIS, he could do all that and more, blindfolded. Simply running from one wall to the other was going to be child's play.

Balancing himself with outstretched arms, Emerson darted across the chamber. He reached the opposite wall in just a couple of seconds. Without pausing, he grabbed the roots covering the wall and climbed over to where the creature was imprisoned.

"'Ello there..." he whispered as he cut the roots covering the creature's inhuman face. J'Hasp's eyes were half-closed, but they widened slightly when he sensed Emerson's presence. The orbs beneath the flickering eyelids a sickly, greenish tint to them that had not been present before. "You just hold tight," said Emerson. "I'll have you out of this in... uhhhh...."

Emerson looked at the complexity of the roots holding J'Hasp. They had been woven tightly into place... untangling them would take a bit of work. The sharp knife would help, but he could only cut so much without risking injury to the thing he'd come to rescue.

"...a few seconds," he said with a frown.

"...man help J'Hasp..." the creature said. Its voice was below a whisper... weak and hissing.

"Yeah, yeah," Emerson grunted as he sliced away a long root that seemed to be holding quite a few others in place. He was right... that one root took a handful of others with it when he peeled it off.

J'Hasp suddenly stiffened, making a noise that was half-hiss, half-squeal... and all pain.

"Whoa," said Emerson. His cutting had netted him more than he bargained.... there was a network of the soft, hollow roots beneath the others, weaving their way in and out of J'Hasp's flesh. Emerson had accidentally pulled several of them free.

"Man hurt J'Hasp!" the creature hissed in rage. It tried to slash at Emerson's face, but the creature's arms were still pinned to its sides by the roots.

"Hey, watch those claws, now!"

Emerson paused to let the creature settle down... which didn't take long in its weakened state. Then he began trying to free it again, this time paying closer attention to what he was doing. The hollow roots were everywhere. Whatever had created this nest had woven J'Hasp so tightly into it that it might take hours to undo. Of course, he could just cut everything and hope for the best... but he didn't think his employer would pay very much for a damaged....uhhh... whatever this was.

"Strung you up good, didn't they?"

The creature didn't reply. Its eyes were glazed over.

"You still there?" Emerson tapped J'Hasp on the jaw. When the creature didn't respond, he tapped a bit harder. J'Hasp's head rolled limply to one side. A line of greenish-white drool oozed out of the corner of the creature's mouth. "Oh, don't die on me NOW! I just GOT here! C'mon!"

Emerson shook the creature.

"At least gimme a CHANCE ta save ya! Wake up!"

J'Hasp didn't move.

"Ah, ta hell with it-" Desperate, Emerson took his knife and started cutting at the hollow tube-roots. They were sucking the life... and the reward potential... right out of J'Hasp right before Emerson's eyes. Emerson grabbed a handful of the roots and sliced them away.

A greenish liquid spurted out of the severed ends... and it continued to spurt even after Emerson had moved onto the next bundle. Those spurted green goo as well... and that gave Emerson pause.

This wasn't right. The OTHER roots had been draining the old woman's corpse. THESE were doing something else. They weren't draining J'Hasp at all... they were pumping something INTO him.

Emerson took a good, long look at the creature. Its skin had a faint but undeniable hint of green.

"...poison," Emerson gasped. "Gotta be. What else COULD it be? But why bother?"

Emerson reached out to cut another bundle of the poison-pumping roots when J'Hasp suddenly jerked back away from him. The creature hissed furiously... desperately... as the roots that held him yanked him back and to one side, carrying him out of Emerson's reach. Startled, Emerson jerked in the opposite direction. He watched with wide eyes as the formerly motionless roots slithered over the captured creature like a nest of angry snakes.

Somehow in the sudden burst of movement, J'Hasp's tail managed to free itself. The prehensile appendage whipped through the air and, before Emerson could even distinguish it from the surrounding roots, it had wrapped tightly around his left forearm.

"Hey!

The creature pulled him... pulled him HARD, nearly snatching Emerson from his precarious perch among the roots. Emerson pulled back, trying to free himself, but even in its weakened condition, the creature's tail had a grip and strength greater than any man's. Emerson found himself caught in a tug-of-war...

"HELP J'HASP!" the creature screamed as the roots pulled it further away. Emerson tried to pull back, but he simply didn't have the strength or the leverage.

Then he felt something touch his leg.

He looked down... and gasped. The roots around HIM were moving as well. Thin tendrils reached out of the wall, brushing against his body almost as if probing him.

"Uh-oh-"

The 'probing' was short-lived, and now thicker roots curled around his ankles... then his calves...

"HELP J'HASP!"

"Help YOU!? Who's gonna help ME!?!!?" Emerson kicked at the roots... but he only managed three kicks before his feet were hopelessly entangled. He was caught! He couldn't even try to free himself, because he was using his one free hand to hold himself still against the creature's incessant pull.

"MAN HELP J'HASP!"

"SHUT UP, ALREADY!"

Something the size of a man's arm grabbed Emerson around the waist. Yet another root was brushing against his neck when eh realized that J'Hasp was inadvertently providing his way out!

Emerson let go of the wall-

"YAAAAAAAHHH!"

There was a tug... and then a painful wrenching in Emerson's arm... and then he was free as J'Hasp went sailing along the wall, with Emerson flying along behind, suspended from the creature's long tail. They were going down... down AWAY from the hole that Emerson needed to reach in order to escape...

...down TOWARD the sudden explosion of movement in the bottom of the cave. There had been nothing down there before... and there was STILL nothing down there. But that 'nothing' was moving!

It was the roots. They completely covered the walls of the chamber, but the blanket was unusually thick at the bottom. Now that blanket was alive. The roots had become a carpet of flailing, slithering tendrils of every shape and size. And the effect was spreading! The roots on the walls were becoming animated as well... beginning with the roots closest to the bottom and then slowly spreading upward.

Emerson realized with horror that where he was... this place he had found... was not the creature's NEST, but the creature ITSELF! He was INSIDE of it!

"Sorry, mate," Emerson said as he grabbed the knife from his left hand and placed the blade to J'Hasp's tail... "I didn't sign in for all this!"

J'Hasp's pale green face was barely visible deep within the cluster of roots that were carrying them both along. The creature's eyes widened in an expression that seemed far, far too human.

"No Hurt J'Hasp!" It hissed in desperation.

"Ya gotta let me go! It's pullin' us both in!"

"Help J'Hasp! Help J'Hasp Pleeasse!"

"I'll bring help! I'll bring the others... but ya gotta LET ME GO first!"

"NO LEAVE J'HASSP!!"

"LET ME GO!"

"NO LEAVE J'HASSSSP!!"

Emerson's blade cut into the flesh of J'Hasp's tail... drawing no more than a thin line of blood before the creature released him. Emerson couldn't tell if the creature had instinctively reacted to the pain, or actually understood Emerson's plea to let him go. Either way, Emerson was now free... at least temporarily. He grabbed hold of a root to stop his fall. He looked down.

The roots snatched J'Hasp away with frightening efficiency. The last thing Emerson saw before the creature vanished was its face... eyes fixed on his... snout-like mouth screaming words that echoed up through the increasing hiss of the roots:

"...man no help J'Hasp!... man let J'Hasp go!"

And then it was gone. It reached the bottom of the chamber and was swallowed whole by the mass of roots that churned there.

"...gods..." Emerson gasped. Then the root he was holding onto began to pulse and writhe in his hand. He quickly abandoned it in favor of another, more subdued neighbor, and began scurrying up the wall.

But he was on the wrong wall! He needed to get back across-

Something big and thick looped around his arm and immediately pulled him down. Emerson's blade flashed as he brought it around... then he paused. He saw where the root was going, and where it was pulling him...

He cut the root below his arm, ending the downward pull and leaving him with a length of rope that was already attached to the opposite wall. Emerson shoved off as hard as he could and flew across the chamber. He didn't need to hold onto his rope... it was holding onto HIM just fine! Holding on so well that it was cutting off his circulation and was an instant away from breaking his arm.

Emerson cut the root away in mid-flight, abandoning it... and himself... to the empty air.

Knife held firmly in hand, Emerson shifted his weight and rolled in the air... flipping end-over-end twice... and hit the wall in the PERFECT position to grab another root and start climbing up as fast as he could. He slashed at whatever roots he wasn't using to climb, because by now they were ALL moving... ALL trying to grab him. He didn't bother too look down again. If the animating force had already spread to the roots ABOVE him, then what lay below probably wasn't something he wanted to see anyway.

Emerson climbed and cut like a madman... eyes dancing between the hole he was trying to reach, and the field of tentacles that surrounded him. They were slow and sluggish now, but he could tell they were getting stronger and quicker.... and larger. The smaller filaments wrapped around each other, braiding themselves together to form larger tendrils. THESE then combined with other tendrils... wrapping so tightly together that they actually MERGED... actually BECAME one large tentacle that lashed at Emerson... and got a nice long gash from Emerson's blade in return. Oozing sap and fluid... the tentacle swung away...

...and merged with yet ANOTHER tentacle, creating something that was almost as big around as Emerson's whole body!

Just then, Emerson's hand touched something solid and unmoving. The edge of the hole!

In the next instant, Emerson had pulled himself up and was already wiggling down the tunnel as fast as he could. There was a thunderous THUD behind him as that one large tentacle slammed into the wall, barely missing him.

Roots and tendrils grabbed at Emerson as he made his way down the passage. At first, Emerson cut everything that touched him... but that was slowing him down. He began pulling himself free of whatever he could, stopping to use the knife only when something had a strong enough grip to stop him entirely. He went on for nine... perhaps ten seconds before he heard it:

The low, hissing rumble of something large moving in the passage behind him.

It was coming after him.

It was on him instantly. The tentacle from the main chamber shot down the passage like an arrow and wrapped around both of Emerson's legs. It HAD him! The smaller tendrils from the wall began to curl around his arms and upper torso... and all of them began dragging him back. Caught from behind in such a narrow space... someone ELSE would have been helpless. But Emerson's small, lithe frame curled around in the tunnel and brought his knife down for one last, desperate strike.

"DIEEEE!" he screamed as the blade sank deep into the meat of the tentacle around his legs.

The knife grew warm in his grasp. The jewels... the lovely, expensive jewels encrusted in the hilt... flashed with an eerie and frightening light. Twin bolts of power exploded out of the weapon... the first raced down the length of the tentacle, and the second shot up Emerson's arm, into his body-

"AAAAAAAAGGGGGHHHHH!!!!"

Emerson's insides were on fire! But it wasn't a burning fire... it was the flame of power... of strength... His muscles fluttered as enchanted knife drained energy out of the creature and poured it into him. Emerson gasped, and his eyes opened wider than he'd ever thought possible.... but he couldn't see anything! All he saw were those jewels... beautiful jewels... gleaming and flickering as they STOLE more of the creatures power and fed it to him... more and more and more...

Emerson didn't know how it happened... whether HE pulled the knife out or whether the tentacle managed to pull itself off of the blade. But somehow, the connection was broken. Emerson scrambled backward...

Before him, the large tentacle slipped quickly away.... unraveling as it did. The one massive appendage separated into the dozens of smaller tendrils that had combined to form it, and they all disappeared down the passage. The roots on the walls remained, but now they were waving and undulating at random, no longer reaching out to grab him.

Emerson sat there in shock for perhaps a second... The golden knife lay cold and inert in his hand. The jewels were silent... there glimmering having ceased as soon as the blade was free of the tentacle.

But the energy... IT was still there. Emerson felt his muscles tingling with it... filled to overflowing. He curled into a ball, rotated himself into a forward position, and started crawling as fast as he could.

...which was significantly faster than it should have been. Emerson's arms and legs moved as if they belonged to someone else... someone faster, and much more coordinated than he was. It was the energy from the blade. It was driving him... making him more of what he was. His reflexes, already the envy of everyone in the Night's Bloom... became even faster. The hand-eye coordination of a champion knife-thrower heightened to something almost superhuman. He even seemed more FLEXIBLE, easily slipping through the tight spaces that had dogged him his first time through.

And he didn't get tired not one time. No tired joints... no muscle aches... he wasn't even breathing hard.

But none of that prevented his heart from leaping into his throat when he heard the rumble of the thing moving in the passage behind him. It was coming again. It was coming fast... and from the way the passage was quaking, it was a lot bigger and nastier than it had been before. The magic blade hadn't killed it or even frighten it away...

...it had just pissed it off!

Emerson crawled faster. He was close to the farmhouse now.. the tunnel was larger and easier to maneuver in, but that didn't mean much against the creature that had MADE the tunnel in the first place. No matter how quick he was now, the root-thing was going to catch him.

Small stones and bits of dirt began to rain down on him as the creature's progress shook the entire passage. The roots on the walls had resumed their attempt to grab him, but he was too quick for them now. It was the OTHER thing that he had to worry about. The thing behind him. He had to crawl faster... but he couldn't GET any faster...

He saw the opening up ahead where the tunnel emptied into the cylindrical hole leading up to the farmhouse. It wasn't far...

But then he heard the roar of the creature. It wasn't a real roar, because it didn't have a mouth... but the sound it made as it tore through the dirt and rock behind him was like the bellowing of some huge beast. It was widening its own passage as it came, shoving everything it touched aside as it bore down on the scurrying figure not two yards ahead of it...

Emerson kept his eye on the opening. He could make it... he could make it....

Then he looked back...

---

"Something's found him!" Gallows snapped suddenly. For a long time, the mage-assassin had stood silently near the edge of the hole... occasionally looking down into it, sometimes just staring off at a wall or glancing at the others in the room. He hadn't made a sound except in response to Hemingway's questions about how Emerson was doing. The response had always been the same: "Still alive. Still moving. I can't tell anything else."

But now...

"What?"

"Something's found him," Gallows repeated. "I'm getting fear... exertion. There's something there with him, too, but its faint..."

"We have to help him!" said Hemingway.

"Something goin on?" asked Thane with an eagerness in his voice.

"Something's got Emerson down there!"

"I didn't say something HAD him," Gallows corrected. "I said something FOUND him."

"How far away is he?" said Hars.

"Deep," the mage replied. "Very deep..." Gallows frowned.

"What?"

"There was a flash of something," said the mage. "Panic... I think it had him, but he's moving again... wait..."

"Will you just tell us what's happening down there!?"

"Shhh..." Gallows motioned for them to be silent. He stared down into the hole for several minutes... and every time someone thought about asking a question... he shot them an angry glance that shut them up before the words could reach their lips.

"He's coming back," Gallows said finally. His tone had veered slightly from the constant calm that he always exuded. "Fast. He's running."

"...don't you die down there, little brother," said Hemingway. "Don't you die..."

"Something's not right." Gallows backed away from the hole and drew his crossbow. "He's coming faster than he should be. A lot faster."

"I wouldn't be too sure... my brother is plenty quick-"

"Not THAT quick. And he's stirred up something down there and its coming right on his heels."

"What is it?" said Thane. "Human?"

"Rage and hunger," said Gallows. "Whatever hit this place before is coming back for seconds, and it'll be here in about two minutes..."

"You heard the man," Harrison Blackshear growled. "Weapons up!" Hars drew both of his swords while Hemingway grabbed the war-hammer from his belt. They flanked the hole on opposite sides while Gallows and Thane backed away. They both stood by the wall, where they could both get clear shots at whatever emerged from the hole without hitting their compatriots. Thane went into a low crouch... one hand clenched in a tight fist... the other hovering over the magic ring on his finger.

The idea that they could easily escape by simply leaving the house never came up. Or if it did, it was never spoken. One of their own was down there. Be it rescue or revenge, the full force of the Night's Bloom was about to fall on whatever followed Emerson out of the depths.

The next minute and a half was drenched in total, ominous silence.

Then, what remained of the floor began to shake. The vibrations increased. The hole widened slightly as several boards fell in.

Then came the rumbling sound of something coming underground...

...joined immediately by a high-pitched scream-

"YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAA!!"

"...Em..." Hemingway's fingers tightened around his hammer.

The scream ended. There was a jolt... a shudder...

Gallows winced.

...and then the voice came again, much closer this time.

"...HELLLLPPP!!"

Hemingway looked down into the hole-

"Eeeeeasy, lad," Harrison warned. Hemingway backed away a step. A single, small step.

There came another jolt... this one strong enough to shake the entire building. And then-

"COMING THROUGH!"

"GET BACK!" Harrison shouted to everyone.

Something... SOMETHING HUGE... burst out of the hole so fast that it actually hit the ceiling before its upward momentum stopped. It was a monstrous tentacle....

...and riding its back was Emerson Shaw, both legs clutching the thing's bulk... both arms holding onto the glowing, golden knife he was repeatedly stabbing in the creature's flank. The tentacle had hit the ceiling in order to knock him off, but Emerson slipped away at the last instant... yanking the knife away and jumping away with a single thrust of his legs.

Emerson did a flip in mid-air before barely touching the wall... touching it just enough to jump back the way he had come, knife flashing as he flew past the tentacle, carving a shallow groove along its side. He hit the ground in a forward roll and got clear just as the tentacle came down in a tremendous CRASH! that tore away more of the wooden floor. The thing was quick... it snaked after Emerson, who had reached another wall and climbed halfway up before jumping clear once more... propelling himself up and over the creature's bulk... as well as the hole through which it had emerged.

The tip of the tentacle came up and shot after him. Emerson flipped in the air... yanking his legs out of the creature's reach at the last instant. He hit the floor and rolled again... the tentacle was right behind him-

WHAM!

Emerson had lead it right under Hemingway's hammer. The heavy weapon came down on the end of the tentacle, turning it into so much pulp and goo.

"YAHAAA!" Hars blades sung sweet music in the air as he tore into the base of the creature, cutting huge gouges out of its flank.

The tentacle recoiled from Hemingway's strike... slamming its bulk into Hars and knocking him aside. And then a SECOND tentacle... smaller but faster than the first... rose out of the hole and snaked toward the swordsman. Hars ducked and spun away from it... slicing at it with one sword, but missing. The smaller tentacle curved away toward Hemingway while the larger one simple flailed back and forth, spraying sap and goo from the wounds it had received.

"LOOK OUT!" Emerson warned his brother

Hemingway swung his hammer again, but the smaller tentacle was too fast... it wrapped around his hand and pulled...

It TRIED to pull him in, but the former circus-strongman held his ground. He pulled back, and the tentacle drew tight...

"Looks like you found yourself a new pet down there, little brother!" Hemingway shouted.

"Well at least it isn't a spider!" Emerson joked. Using the golden dagger, he cut the tentacle in two with one slice. The severed end fell away from Hemingway's arm, while the stump quickly slithered back into the hole.... only to be replaced by three MORE tentacles... one of which ended in something resembling a scorpion's stinger.

-thwip!-

The stinger-tentacle didn't last long. One of Gallows' bolts transfixed it just below the bulbous end. Impaled by the bolt, the stinger sank back into the floor.

"STAND CLEAR!" Thane boomed from across the room. Hars... who was still hacking at the main tentacle, broke off his attack and darted to safety as Thane let loose with his magic ring.

A tight cone of fire shot across the room, tearing into the rapidly-growing cluster of tendrils. Everything turned bright-orange for a second. Thane bathed the creature in a plume of fire...

...but the creature would not burn. Portions of its skin scorched and blackened, but when the fire from Thane's ring ended, the tentacles were still there... very much alive. A few flickering flames clung to its flesh for a moment, but they vanished quickly.

But Thane HAD hurt it. And the creature did not like to be hurt. The main tentacle swept across the room like a giant arm. Emerson leapt out of its path just in time... and Thane had just enough time to touch his ring again before it struck him with enough force to throw him into... and THROUGH... the wall.

Thane landed outside, his force-field shimmering for another two seconds before it faded.

"Fire can't kill it!" Gallows announced to the surprise of no one. He had returned his crossbow to its place on his belt, and was now drawing the collapsible longbow he had secured on his back, underneath his cape. He assembled it as he ran, ducking and dodging tentacles that were still bursting up through the floor. "EVERYBODY OUT! OUT OF THE HOUSE!"

"RETREAATTT!" Hars bellowed. He and Hemingway reached the door at the same time... right behind Emerson. Thane was already outside, and Gallows brought up the rear, pausing to take aim at the creature with his longbow. Instead of a normal arrowhead, the arrow he notched bore a bulbous, fist-sized metal pyramid at its tip.

"What is that?" Hars said as he glanced back.

"Ripper arrow," Gallows barked. "Now RUN!"

Gallows let the strange arrow fly. The instant it cleared the bow, the assassin turned and ran as fast as he could. He passed Hars, Hemingway, Emerson and Thane who were just slowing down... looking behind them to see if the thing was following.

Gallows kept running.

"I said RUN!!" he shouted, he streaking past.

"Aww, HELL!" Thane grunted as he took off after him.

Behind them, inside the ruined farmhouse, the 'ripper' arrow struck its mark... the center of the large cluster of tentacles. The enchanted tip shattered like fine crystal... only it was not crystal. It was metal. Eight razor-shards exploded away from the impact... each of them traveling just as fast as the original arrow. This was when the insidious nature of Gallows' missile revealed itself. Each fragment tore through skin and muscle as if they were nothing, but when they hit something more solid... like bone, or a wooden wall... they exploded AGAIN, releasing three or four MORE fragments in random directions. These did the same as the original shard that spawned them... ripping flesh along a single direction until they hit something solid, then fragmenting... then fragmenting again... and again... and again. Within seconds, the farmhouse was alive with tiny metal shards that crisscrossed the room in ever-increasing numbers. Each was as sharp as a razor, and each had the same momentum as the very first arrow.

And in the heart of the metal storm, the tentacle-creature writhed in agony. Tiny claws of enchanted steel shredded its flesh... attacking it from all directions in ever-increasing numbers. Back and forth the fragments went, tearing through the pulpy flesh without mercy. The tentacles had no choice but to retreat. Injured yet AGAIN by the victims it sought for food, the creature sank back into hole and vanished... leaving a thick trail of sap and pulpy chunks behind to mark its passing.

Meanwhile, the storm of metal continued unabated. Some shards made their way through the open door, or through the hole that Thane had made in the wall... they shot out into the night where their momentum eventually fizzled out. Some shot past the fleeing Night's Bloom.

-kTINK!-

One shard hit Hemingway's hammer, yielding three smaller fragments that flew off in three different directions. Two buried themselves in the dirt. One went straight up into the air.

-ZIP!-

Another shard shot past Harrison's left ear. An inch to the right and it would have hit his jaw... which would, in turn, have unleashed a storm of tiny blades inside his body, shredding him from the inside out. Fortunately, that didn't happen.

Several more pieces flew past them, yet the storm was mostly... mostly... contained within the farmhouse. The metal fragments continued to buzz, slice, and subdivide... until they were the size of dust. Then, finally, they stopped.

Some time AFTER that, the Night's Bloom stopped running.

They all stood around catching their breath for a moment... casting long, cautious glances at the farmhouse that was now a good distance away.

"...shades!" Hars gasped. "Fightin' MEN is one thing... but going up against bloomin' MONSTERS..." Hars shook his head.

"Should we go back?" said Thane.

"Ummm... I vote 'no'" said Emerson.

"We need to see if its dead," said Hars.

"It's alive," Gallows said calmly... though a hint of disappointment was evident in his voice. "We hurt it. I felt its pain... it left."

"So where IS it?"

Gallows shrugged.

"I thought you said you could track things by their emotions-"

"I can," said Gallows. "I can track HUMANS. But not this thing; it's cloaked itself somehow. There's no center of emotion any more..."

"Huh?"

"Its mind has dispersed. It's scattered."

"Is that good or bad?" said Emerson.

"Neither. But you would know more than I do," Gallows turned to Emerson. "You've been to its heart. What did you see?"

Emerson quickly relayed his experiences underground. Everyone listened in silence.

"Sounds like that blade saved your life," said Hemingway when his brother was finished.

"It's my new LUCKY KNIFE!" Emerson held up the blade... and Gallows promptly snatched it from his hand. "HEY!"

The assassin looked at it... then handed it back.

"Magic," he said.

"Well I kinda KNEW that already-"

"Don't trust it," Gallows warned. "It isn't cursed... but draining the energy from others is never a good idea. Use it only as a last resort, and maybe not even then."

"Thank you, oh wise and noble master!" Emerson bowed before Gallows.

"So what do we do now?" said Thane.

Harrison sighed. It wasn't a good kind of sigh.

"J'Hasp is still down there," he said.

"The messenger-thing? It's probably dead by now-"

"We don't know that. And it doesn't really matter. Something's goin on under this town, and we've got to let HIM know what we found."

"Him?" Hemingway wondered aloud.

"Gentle... I think its time I introduced you to the boss."

---

"So we're all just going to sit here on our butts and do nothing while that thing runs around loose?"

"Sounds like a good idea to me. I'm not getting chased out of my house by anything... And I'm certainly not going to go running around town in the dark for looking for help. Not THIS town... not at night. December's right... we should stay put until at can at least see what we're doing. Shouldn't be much longer."

December tried to ignore the conversation between Francesca and Floyd... or at least SEEM like he was ignoring it. After climbing out of the basement, he and the others had taken refuge in the upstairs bedrooms. Floyd's room was the largest, but the old man was reluctant to have everyone gather there, claiming the drafts in the chamber would be bad for the boy's health. December didn't push the issue... But he did make a note of it. Francesca's room was the next logical choice. It was large, and it had several windows that could be used for escape, if needed.

Francesca and Floyd sat in chairs at the foot of Francesca's bed, where she had tucked Casey in to sleep the rest of the night. But he did not sleep. He just sat up and listened to his mother and grandfather argue while December and N'Doki had a quite conversation in a far corner.

"We need to question de boy," N'Doki hissed for perhaps the hundredth time. "De spirits spoke to him... To him alone. We need to know what dey say."

"Indeed we do," said December. They had already tried to question Casey once, but the boy claimed to remember nothing of his experience with the spirits. It was a lie, of course. A lie told by a child who was not accustomed to lying... December could have read the falsehood in the boy's words even without seeing the rise in the child's skin temperature when he spoke. But his mother believed him... as mothers tended to do. The boy said he knew nothing, and that settled it as far as Francesca was concerned. Not so, for December and N'Doki. "But probing further with his mother present will be problematic, at best. She is very protective-"

"To hell wit de woman!" N'Doki spat. Such an oath was unusually strong for N'Doki, because he meant it literally. He could send her to any number of very unpleasant places if she stood in his way for too long. That was what December was trying to prevent. "We need to know!"

"Calm down, friend," December said in what passed for a soothing tone. It wasn't all that soothing.

"We cannot move forward until we know de secrets dat dese spirits keep."

"'Move forward,'" December repeated. "Interesting choice of words. It almost sounds as if you are orchestrating this entire affair yourself."

"Suspicious of your mentor, are you?" said the necromancer with a smile. "You don't trust N'Doki?"

"No. Never."

"Good. At least you keep DAT lesson close to you heart. But you cannot deny dat de boy holds de key to what has happened here. De spirits give him dat key... but it does us no good where it is."

N'Doki cast a long, intense gaze at the boy...w ho must have felt the necromancers's eyes on him. He turned suddenly toward N'Doki, and the quick motion caught Francesca's eye.

"Is something wrong?" she said. "Is it back?"

"We were merely considering further questions for the boy-"

"Well stop considering," Francesca snapped. "Casey, go to sleep."

"Yes, ma'am."

"The boy has valuable information-" December began.

"No, he doesn't. You asked him before, and he said he doesn't remember."

"He lies," N'Doki said plainly. So much for tact.

"What?! You're calling my son a liar!?"

"Wellll..." Floyd crooned. "Nodoki IS a holy man... he might have insight-"

"You side with these people... a total stranger and a known CRIMINAL... over your own flesh and blood!?"

"December was never convicted of anything-" Floyd began.

"Father, you don't have to DEFEND HIM!!"

Floyd ignored her and kept right on talking.

"-and as for Casey. You were there, Francesca. We ALL saw what was happening. We HEARD those things speaking to him-"

"But I don't remember anything!" Casey said quietly... and all the while, he was slinking further under the covers as if trying to hide.

"See! He doesn't remember-"

"He does," said N'Doki.

"No, he doesn't!"

"Yes," N'Doki said... even more calmly than before. "He does."

"No he-"

"YES HE DOES!!"

N'Doki's voice exploded from his throat like a cannon shot. It was almost deafening, and it left a painful ringing behind in December's ears. The shadows in the room shuddered for a moment, as if quaking before the voice of their stern master.

Francesca sat stunned for a moment... the painful echo of N'Doki's voice the only thing in her head. Then she blinked it away and inhaled to speak... or scream...

"...mommy?" said Casey. He swallowed nervously, and sank even further down into the confines of the blankets. "I didn't wanna make anybody mad. They didn't tell me it would make everybody mad at me... They just told me not to tell!"

"Nobody's mad at you, boy," said Floyd. N'Doki growled quietly at December's side.

"What are you saying, Casey?"

"That N'Doki and I are right. That he does remember."

"What did dey tell you not to tell, boy? What do you remember? You tell N'Doki now..."

"They were all talking at once. They were saying things, and I couldn't hear them because all the words were running together."

"...but-" December. "You do know something."

"Sometimes... when the words were really really fast... they squished together and made pictures in my head."

"Pictures of what, boy?" said Floyd.

"Sick people," said Casey. "There were lots of sick people, the really bad kinda sick. And they were all kids like me."

"A portent of the future," N'Doki began.

"No," Floyd said in a whisper. "Not the future. The past. He's talking about the past... the plague. It happened when I was a boy, younger than Casey is now. All the children got sick."

"But that was decades ago," said Francesca. "Why would they show him that?"

"Dese spirits could be from dat time. Dey show him what dey know from life. What else, boy?"

"There was a woman, and she was screaming..."

December noticed Floyd squirming in his chair. Something bout this particular vision made him uncomfortable."

"W-what did she look like?"

"She had black hair... really black and long."

Floyd relaxed for a moment, then tensed up again, as if remembering something ELSE that made him uncomfortable.

"You know this woman?" said December.

"I-... I know OF her. She was from the same time as the plague."

"What happened to her?"

Floyd swallowed hard.

"Father, tell them. You want Casey to answer their questions, then you can do the same. Tell them what happened-"

"Nothing," said Floyd, his face folding into a scowl. "Nothing happened to her, but it SHOULD have. It was HER that started the plague. Her and her husband were witches. They were poisoning the wells; killing the children. When the adults found out, they ran the two of them off. Never came back."

"But dat is not what de boy sees-"

"That's what I saw. And I was there. That vision could have been anything, but what I saw was those two witches getting chased out of Bephal by a mob. Nasty business... with pitchforks and fire and longswords. But the children got better after that."

"Hmmmmm..." N'Doki and December traded glances.

"-And then," said Casey. "I saw lots of people doing bad things. Stealing...and hurting people. There was a fat man, and he was all bloody, and he had children with him, and the children were scared... really scared..."

"Oh, my gods," Floyd hid his face in his hands. "Filkus. He's talking about Filkus."

"The Butcher of Bephal," Francesca added. "THAT atrocity was from MY childhood. No on slept that year. Not with that madman running loose."

"It's true. And Casey couldn't know anything about that. No one talks about him. Him OR the witches. Casey couldn't know any of that."

"What happened to this butcher?" said December.

"The man with the magic killed him!" Casey blurted, almost proudly.

"Man...?"

"Trisk," said Francesca. "Jerimiah Trisk. Our savior."

The last was spoken with unveiled, bitter sarcasm.

"He WAS a savior then," Floyd countered, turning to December. "This was before... before he became what YOU knew him to be. He was a good man, once."

"I guess it all depends on your definition of 'good'" said Francesca.

"Without him, this town would have festered and rotted away years ago. Filkus wasn't the first OR the last of it. You were just a child, Francesca... you don't know how bad it was before Trisk came back and started cleaning it up."

"-by impaling Filkus on an iron pike and erecting his corpse in the center of town like a monument? THAT, I remember."

"I remember it too," Casey said meekly. "They showed it to me."

"And what else did they show?"

"There were some bad people in a cabin... in the woods. They all died."

"Doesn't ring any bells," said Floyd. Francesca shook her head and nodded at the boy to continue. And continue he did. For someone who claimed to remember nothing, Casey's mind was filled to overflowing with images... most of them violent... some of them obscene.... and none of them having anything to do with each other, except for the fact that they were all from Bephal's past. December searched for a common thread, but found none. At first he thought it was Jerimiah Trisk... he certainly appeared in more than his fair share of the visions, some of the visions were from a time when Trisk was an infant. Others involved things that happened while Trisk was away studying magic. No, Trisk was not the common factor. But if not him, then what?

"...then there were more women," Casey said, still describing what the horde of spirits had shown them. "Lots of different ones. They were screaming because somebody was doing something bad to them-"

"Stop," Floyd said suddenly. "That's... that's enough. I can't believe they showed him that."

"What?" said December. "What does the boy see?"

"I'll not say," said Floyd. "Not with the boy here. They may have showed him the images, but he can't possibly understand. I'll explain it later if you want, but I'd rather I didn't have to. This one was... personal."

"It's too much," Francesca agreed. "I remember that time all too well. Filkus wasn't the only monster to come out of Bephal. We seemed to grow a fresh crop every year for a long while. But that one, too, is dead. Dead and gone, like all the ones before. Sent to the Pit. Bephal takes care of the monsters it makes; let us leave it at that." Francesca's eyes pleaded with December to let the subject drop. So did Floyd's.

"There appears to be much in this town's past that eluded me in my time here," said December. He noticed N'Doki smile briefly, then they both turned their attention back to Casey.

"I don't remember many more pictures," said Casey. "The voices said not to tell anyone-"

"Then why did they show you?" said December. It was a rhetorical question. He was not expecting an answer, and he did not receive one.

"And after they said that... they got really excited and started to leave. They said something was coming."

"The creature. What did they say about it?"

"Nothing. They didn't say anything. Not about the thing in the ground"

N'Doki growled.

"They DIDN'T! I SWEAR!"

"What DID they say?" December questioned. "Before they left... what did they say?"

Casey paused. He glanced at his mother.

"Go on, Casey."

"They... they said we were in trouble."

"What kind of trouble, boy?" said Floyd.

"The kind like the fat man... and the witches... and the man in the mask... they said something bad was coming, but it wasn't under the ground. It was up here, with us."

"One of... us?" Floyd intentionally did not look at December or N'Doki. December noticed the effort it took to avoid doing so.

"Noo.." Casey was whispering now. His voice was tiny and frightened... as if speaking the words that came next would bring doom to their door. "No... it was... it was..."

"What, Casey?"

"It was... the man with no mouth."

BANG!

Floyd's chair hit the floor as the old man leapt to his feet and backed away from Casey's bed.

"No!" Floyd gasped. "He's dead... he's DEAD!"

"Who is this man?" said December. He heard a noise, and saw that Francesca was crying. Sobbing violently into her hands.

"What is dis man dat you fear?"

"...the women..." Casey whispered. "He was the one that hurt them. He did things... bad things. And he's coming back."

"NEVER!" Floyd shouted. "I! SAW! HIM! DIE!! HE'S GONE!"

"...he's coming back," Casey repeated. "And he's maaaaad..."

"STOP IT!" Francesca's chair joined Floyd's: overturned on the floor. "NO MORE QUESTIONS! NO MORE QUESTIONS! I'M NOT GOING TO LISTEN ANY MORE!" She ran from the room. Floyd watched her go, but he seemed too weak to follow.

"...they just said it to scare us," he said, turning to N'Doki. "Didn't they? It was a lie... a lie to frighten us. Right?"

"Possibly," said December. He too, turned to the necromancer. "I believe that our course of action has backfired..."

"How so?"

"We wanted your 'mysterious force' to show itself so that we could discern its motives. It has obliged us... we have looked upon it, but are no more enlightened from the encounter than we were before. It, on the other hand, now knows a great deal about us. Like how to frighten us."

"Mmmm," N'Doki nodded. "And what do you suppose it will do wit dat knowledge, eh?"

"What indeed," said December. "What... indeed..."

---

It was called The Pit... named that by someone who's own identity was lost in the years since the naming. It was not a particularly creative name, for that is exactly what the thing was: A pit. A giant hole. A massive grave, dug deep with magic and muscle... and filled with the bodies and ashes of children who had succumbed to the plague. Some would say they were murdered, but it really made no difference. The Pit didn't care. The healers said that the bodies carried disease, so they had to be placed far away from town... burned if the parents would allow it... in order to stop the spread of contamination. The normal cemeteries were too close... and so the Pit was born.

Years later, the Pit was opened again. Not by the same people... but for much the same reason. More bodies. More corpses that the living did not want near them. These were the people who could not be buried in hallowed ground... people who had done things that precluded their ever... EVER... being put to rest next to normal, decent folk. They were diseased... not by a physical ailment, but by the corrupting, spiritual evil that seemed to hover around Bephal like a wasp waiting for another victim to infect with its sting. These were the criminals. The murderers. The rapists. The thieves and the raving lunatics. Not ALL of the evil ones... just the ones without the necessary influence or money to keep them from the Pit's embrace. The townsfolk drew straws to see who would dig the hole. And then, under the watchful eye of the town guard and whatever holy man was drunk enough to agree to it... witnessed a brief rite of passing before tossing the human garbage in, sometimes without the benefit of a coffin.

And there they stayed.

There they rested... snug in the peaceful quiet of the Pit's cold embrace.

Eerie though it was, the Pit was not cursed or haunted as the townsfolk liked to whisper. It was not alive. It did not have a soul. It was, in truth, just a field of dirt that had been put to a particularly morbid use.

But if it WAS alive, then tonight it would have moaned.. then screamed... then howled in protest as the Thing wormed its way through the soil. On the surface, everything remained deathly still, but just below, harsh tendrils of pulp and magic raked through the dirt, circling the graves like predators. They reached out and caressed the decaying treasures... tasting... but not consuming. Touching and then moving on to the next...

This one?

No.

This one?

No.

This one?

aaaahhhhhh, YES!

All through the pit, the roots ceased their burrowing. They stopped where they were, neither retreating nor continuing their toil through the maze unmarked graves. They all stopped... except for one. For one grave, the evil caress became something else. It became an embrace... an embrace that deepened into a loathsome thrusting violation devoid of both love AND life.

What happened there, beneath the soil, was an abomination. The Pit could not stop it. It was as powerless as the lifeless victim. The Thing was the only power here... IT was the only force... the only motion...the only thought...

But then, suddenly, there was another.

The Thing's vile workings had raised a spark. It breathed its non-breath onto it, and the spark became a flame... the flame became a fire... then a blaze... and then an inferno that burned in the collapsed and rotting veins of the corpse that had been chosen... lovingly selected... to be the Thing's disciple.

The fire was not life, but it was close enough. Deep, deep underground... deeper than the other corpses... the disciple stirred. It shuddered, snapping the rusted wire that bound its hands and feet. The wire bit into its putrid flesh and remained there as the skeletal arms punched through the wooden box, letting the dirt flow down upon it like a tide. The arms then reached upward and pulled the frail body after it, literally swimming through the soil. With it came the tattered burial shroud... the thick cloth that had been wrapped around him and tied with more wire. Tied so tightly that the forces of decay and putrescence had melted them together... giving the disciple a new skin to replace the one that had rotted away years ago.

Up, Up, Up it went... swimming... higher...

And then, in the silent night beyond the edge of the city... a single arm burst up from the soil. Fingers that had decayed into claws of bone dug into the dirt, finding purchase and leverage enough to haul the rest of the body up into the night air. The disciple threw itself flat upon the dirt and lay still... dead...

Dead, yet alive. It was both, for life and death that ceased being opposites within its rotting, tortured frame. The Thing had made it so... the Thing had created it, and now it would do the Thing's bidding.

With a jerk that threw clods of dirt and bits of loose flesh flying into the darkness, the disciple rose up on its knees and spread its arms. The burial shroud flared behind it... fluttering, jerking and undulating like some obscene thing... while the disciple threw his head back and howled its birth-cry...

The cry left the rotting throat as a roaring torrent of fury, but the wire... the chicken-wire that had been sewn into his living flesh before they buried him alive... the strands of rusty metal that still held his mouth shut even now... transformed the foul cry into something worse:

"mmmmmMMMMMMMMMMM!!!!!!!"

[To Be Continued]