part0011

Sticks turned an ear. Small chunks of rock were bouncing down the wall. Something scraped against stone. The Henchmen lowered their torches into the black gap.

Suddenly, Solomon appeared, climbing up the wall like a squirrel. A broad grin crossed his face as he shouted, “Waaahooo!” He clucked with thunderous laughter as he climbed up onto the smaller ledge. He fastened himself to the wall with two black fingernails. “Have you forgotten that troglins are the greatest mountaineers in this world? Climbing through this chasm is easy peasy.”

“Why don’t you climb back down and find the bottom of this abyss?” Horace said as he hauled Ruger back in.

“I’m following orders,” Solomon replied.

“As you should,” Ruger said as he climbed back to his feet. “Next time, I’ll have a better recollection of your skills in mind.” He turned and face the group. “Enough gawking. Onward, Henchmen. We have the king’s stones to find.”

“’Tis a sad day to serve a king that has no stones,” Shades remarked.

Many of the Henchmen chuckled.

“Not those stones,” Ruger replied as he passed Sticks and shoulder bumped Shades. “Don’t quip about the king. It can bring misfortune.”

Sticks watched Solomon make his way back to the ledge. He still had a smile on his face. “Did I have you worried?” he asked.

“I never worry,” she replied. Her ears perked. “Did you hear that?”

“What?” Solomon said.

She stepped to the ledge and looked downward as a moist sucking sound caught her ear. The fine hairs on the nape of her neck rose. “You didn’t see anything down there, did you?”

“It’s pitch-black. I can’t even see my paw in front of my face.” Solomon started forward. “It’s probably the blood rushing through your ears.”

Sticks gripped her handle of her sheathed sword. “You’re probably right. Let’s go.” She glanced at Solomon just as a moist and fleshy tentacle wrapped around his waist. She pulled her sword and screamed, “Solomon!”

Solomon was ripped from the ledge by the powerful tentacle. The slimy thing had thousands of clutching suckers all over it.

“Gah! Get this thing off of me!” Solomon shouted. He was suspended by the massive tentacle, which plucked him off the wall like a bug. He thrashed against his bonds with his face in horrified agony. “Help! Help!”

Sticks chopped at the octopod tendril but was far from the mark.

The Henchmen, led by Ruger, rushed to their aid.

More tentacles crawled up the ledge and swiped at Sticks’s feet. One tentacle had a bulging eye on the end of it. It lunged at Sticks. With a swing of her sword, she cut the eyeball off. She danced between the tentacles, cutting fiercely at everything that moved.

“Gaaah!” Solomon screamed. “Somebody do something!”

“There!” Ruger stabbed his sword downward at a hulking blob churning up the canyon wall. “Death to the slime dweller, Henchmen!”

Skitts and Zann fired a volley of crossbow bolts into the massive blob. A mouth opened and closed that could swallow a horse whole. The bolts sank into its flesh and disappeared. More tentacles exploded from it and snaked their way up onto the rim.

The Henchmen burst into action.

Horace stabbed his great spear into the tendrils.

Vern and Bearclaw slashed away.

Prospero hurled a burning torch into the monster’s mouth.

The monster shrieked as it began to burn from the inside out. Its tentacles clenched and recoiled. The creeping slime began a rapid descent down the wall. It’s bulging froglike body glowed with burning fire from within.

“Help me!” Solomon cried out. “Help me!” The troglin was being pulled down into the inky depths. His long, hairy fingers clutched at the air.

Ruger grabbed the rope and hurled it at the troglin, shouting, “Grab hold!”

Solomon grasped the rope with the tips of his fingers then coiled it around his hands.

“Henchmen! Take the rope!” Ruger commanded.

Every able hand in the company grabbed hold of the rope and pulled. Sticks stood behind Ruger, digging her heels into the ledge. Ruger’s forearms knotted with muscle. He threw his head back and heaved. Behind her, Horace panted heavily and said, “This thing is heavier than me!”

The creeper wasn’t going down without a meal. It pulled against them with unearthly force.

The boots of the Henchmen began to slide across the ledge.

Solomon cried out, “I can’t hold much longer. Save yourself!”

“Put your backs into it!” Ruger shouted as he set his feet on the ledge and squatted down. “Death before failure. Hurk!”

Inch by inch, the Henchmen pulled the rope back. Every person holding the line groaned. Sticks’s teeth ground, and her jaws clenched. Her back and thighs burned with fire. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught hornets made of rosy-purple fire shooting down into the abyss.

The monster let out a moan that would have turned a softer man’s bones to jelly. It pulled down the wall with the strength of an elephant.

The rope burned through Sticks’s hand. Horace bumped up against her.

Ruger gave his final order as he teetered over the edge. “No one lets go of this rope but me. That’s an order!” He snatched up his sword and dove point first toward the monster.

“Captain, no!” Horace yelled.

The rope juddered on the other side of the ledge. The great weight at the other end broke free a few moments later. The company backpedaled with the sudden change in weight and slammed into the wall. Not one single Henchmen lost grip.

Solomon climbed up over the ledge. His long, hairy arms were shaking like leaves. Sticks and Horace crawled over and hauled him all the way up.

“Thank you,” Solomon said with a trembling voice. He looked over into the black expanse. “He dove right in. He dove right into its very jaws.” He swallowed. “And like a wind blowing out a flame,” he cast a sad look at Sticks, “he was gone.”