Terrors From the Red Mountain, Ch. 5: Cat Skull's Gambit
Cat Skull's Gambit
Now we reach the final chapter of “Terrors From the Red Mountain,” my submission for the fantasy mega contest hosted by
, , and . Revisiting the brothers Blackpaw and White-eye, the stars of my previous primitive fantasy novella “The Claws of the N’longu,” this new adventure will see them pushed to the very brink as they attempt to reach the volcanic Red Mountain and save their kin from the flying terrors which stole them away.Chapter 1: Death Descends | Chapter 2: The Midnight Hunt | Chapter 3: As Our Foe Flies | Chapter 4: The Red Mountain | Chapter 5: Cat Skull’s Gambit
Leather wings and mane-like collars of russet fur rustled as the dozing fiends shifted on their inverted perches. Clinging to the stalactites by their clawed feet, they hung upside down, wrapped their wings about their bodies, and tucked their heads against their chests. Their keen ears remained exposed, the better to catch would-be intruders or prey attempting to sneak off.
White-eye signalled to Blackpaw and Old Scars to stay quiet, though neither man needed to be told. The captives were a different story. Alerted to their presence by the torch light, many began to look up and mutter. At first they did so out of fearful curiosity, but that soon turned to amazement when they saw the familiar faces of their kin. Both brothers were quick to shush them, and the old among the captives swiftly took to placing their hands over the mouths of the children. They’d lived long enough to understand the value of doing as they were told in this situation. The young, ever curious and impetuous by nature, couldn’t be so easily trusted.
Creeping deeper into the cavern Blackpaw wondered, why the survivors hadn’t already taken the chance to sneak away? Keeping the children quiet would be difficult, but surely some could manage to keep some of the young quiet and escape. Stranger still was the fact that none of the more able bodied captives made an attempt. Frightened though they were, it wasn’t in his people’s nature to sit and accept their fate in such a manner. They’d always fought for their survival. It was the core reason why their tribe had done so well until the fiends ambushed them.
The three men broke away from one another, each traveling to one of the various groups within the caves. Old Scars went off to the right to tend to a trio of older women. White-eye went for the large group in the center of the chamber. Blackpaw went off to the left, where a group of children sat huddled with two old women and a fellow hunter a few years younger than himself. Reminding them to stay quiet by putting his fingers over his lips, he knelt down to begin inspecting the children for any serious injuries.
His eyes widened, and he sucked in a sharp breath through his nose. With his focus fixed so squarely on the people, Blackpaw failed to notice the hundreds of glistening forms around them. Yellow and black in color, the cave slugs which oozed along the wall were roughly the size of his middle finger. They fed upon the guano which caked the walls, and it seemed the bat-fiends had learned how to make use of the slugs for their advantage. The trails of mucous they left behind helped them to creep along on their bellies, but other creatures found this slime to be immensely sticky. He found this out for himself when he realized he’d placed his hand in it when he’d knelt down. A hard pull was required for Blackpaw to free his palm, and the captives had their legs all but slathered in the sticky muck.
Communicating to the others to wait for him, he quietly made his way back to White-eye. Judging by his expression, he’d just made the same discovery. This was a problem neither of them expected. Blackpaw wasn’t sure what they could do about it, either. They couldn’t wash the muck away, they had no water with them to do so. Pulling their people free would be a long and difficult process, too. He was sure they could manage it if they had the time, but there were at least a dozen of the fiends sleeping right over their heads. Keeping quiet, especially with the children, would be nigh impossible.
Perhaps he could find something to help them further in the caves? He doubted that. All he’d seen as they traveled through here were old bones, dried guano, and the occasional steam vent. That steam might actually help them in this case, but he had no means of capturing it, much less doing so without severely scalding himself. He could try checking outside, making his way up that tube they found a short way back. Again, doubted he’d find anything of use. The slopes of the Red Mountain were barren from what he saw.
Blackpaw was considering fetching Old Scars and heading back out the way they came. Their primitive language being the guttural thing it was made verbal communication too risky with the fiends resting directly above them. He’d wished to see if the old man had an idea for how to deal with this. With him being older than his brother or himself, Old Scars might’ve encountered something similar in the past.. If so, he might know of a way to release the captives that didn’t rely on wrenching them free of the sticky ooze.
Alas, he would never learn of these things, for as Blackpaw was considering this course of action a bellowing warcry echoed from the opposite end of the dome-like cavern. The voice was unmistakably that of Cat Skull, and it was followed by the telltale shrieks of the fiends. Wherever he and his people ended up in this labyrinthine system of tunnels and chambers, they’d taken the fight to the beasts.
However, his distant battle came with dire consequences for Blackpaw, White-eye, and Old Scars. As the sounds of the melee echoed through the caves, the dozen fiends above them stirred and woke. Glassy eyes opened, their beady forms reflecting the yellow light of the trio’s torches as they fell within their sight. As the fiends stirred, so too did the captives. Murmurings of fear, from whimpers to groans, echoed out from the entrapped people. Soon they rose to a frightened wail, and once they did, the first of the fiends shrieked and unfurled its broad wings.
Giving out his own cry of alarm, Blackpaw waved for his brother and Old Scars to follow him. They had to move, else the beasts would drop right on their heads, rendering them all but helpless. If they broke at speed for the other end of the cavern then they might be able to find Cat Skull and join up with him. A slim possibility, but it was the best plan Blackpaw had.
One can easily imagine his surprise when White-eye stopped him. Grabbed by the wrist, his brother instead yanked him back in the direction they’d come from. He hollered to Old Scars at the same time, thrusting his spear in the direction of the tunnel they knew. Why? Those tunnels provided no advantage that Blackpaw could remember. Even so, the decision had been made for him. Turning swiftly on the balls of his feet, he sprinted for the tunnel he knew.
No sooner had he done so than the first fiend dropped right where he’d been standing. Shrieking madly at him, it beat its wings hard to gain lift, then started to make that strange swimming motion its kind used to propel itself through the air. Seconds later, the remaining monstrosities followed suit. Swooping down from the stalactite roof, they gained on the trio in mere moments.
Heart thundering in his chest, Blackpaw gripped his spear tight in both hands. If needed, he’d spin on the balls of his feet and face these monsters down. Better to die fighting bravely than be killed with his back turned to the enemy. The tunnel was close, though. Just a few more steps and they’d be in.
Could they make it? Sweat beaded all over his body, and it did the same with White-eye and Old Scars. His lungs and muscles burned. The adrenaline in his blood made his head spin worse than the heat and sulfur stink already did. At one point, he felt the movement of air from the wings of the first fiend on his back. What should he do? Press forward those last few steps, or turn and fight?
Suddenly, a shrill cry pierced his ears. Grimacing, Blackpaw willed a burst of energy into his limbs. Surging forward, he and the others raced into the narrower space of the tunnel. He realized White-eye’s thinking then. The tunnel was almost wide enough to allow the three men to fit shoulder-to-shoulder, but not enough to allow the fiends to fly! Unable to contain a triumphant laugh, he clapped his brother on the shoulder. As usual, his good instincts proved a saving grace!
Yet the danger hadn’t passed. Glancing back, he saw that some of the fiends still followed. They’d taken to ground, hunched forward in a crawling run that was somewhere between the precise four-limbed gait of the great apes and the much clumsier loping of the terror soarers. Their speed was surprising. Though it came nowhere near to matching their speed on the wing, they still moved with a fierce alacrity.
Blackpaw called out as one of them drew close. With a glance and a nod shared between them, he and White-eye made a skidding halt. Turning on their heels as they did so, they brought their spears up and thrust at the approaching terror. The beast gurgled and clawed at the weapons. The single thumb-like digit on each wing flexed as it tried to pull itself free of the spears that impaled its throat. The brothers wrenched their weapons free, and the creature’s collar of fur was stained red as it coughed blood all over itself and toppled forward.
The fiend’s collapsed body slowed down the others following it. Blackpaw still wasn’t sure how many there were, but he’d seen at least three. They briefly disappeared from sight as they scrambled over the body of their dead companion. Not much longer after that, the trio of hunters once more reached the fork in the tunnels.
Somewhere further in the caves, Cat Skull let out another warcry. Standing at the fork, the trio could hear it coming from the path Old Scars wanted to take earlier. Looking at the brothers in silent query, they all agreed to continue that way. The sounds of battle could be heard ahead. Shrill cries from the bat monsters echoed all throughout the tunnel system, which were followed by cries at their own backs. Their pursuers had caught up to them.
As they ran, Blackpaw realized the tunnel was widening. Soon it would be wide enough for the fiends to take flight. They’d have no choice but to face them when that happened, but for now they would run as fast and as far as they-
“Yagh!” Old Scars yelped! With arms splayed out, he slid to a stop at the edge of a sudden drop!
Quickly slowing, Blackpaw grabbed him from behind and pulled him back. Both men fell onto their backs. Old Scars nearly lost his torch, and Blackpaw’s dropped into the gargantuan chamber below. The old hunter quickly scrambled off of him, springing back to his feet. As he did, Blackpaw rose and took in the scene before him.
The chamber was five or six times the size of the one where they’d found their people. Stalactites hung from its ceiling, too, but it lacked the same dome-like shape. Instead it was long and jagged, more an underground crag than a proper chamber. Small protrusions and landings could be seen along its sheer walls and the cavern’s floor covered about half of the crag’s open space. The other half, which was directly below them, dropped far into the earth where a river of roiling magma fed an even larger chamber at the far end.
Down below, stood upon that floor, four of Cat Skull’s fellow high folk engaged in furious combat with the swarming fiends. At least ten of the beasts lay dead around them, their bloodied bodies strewn about. Among them were the corpses of the pale cliff dwellers and the other men of the lower jungle. One of Cat Skull’s ebon skinned kinsmen had also met his end, but he’d taken the life of the fiend which descended upon him as well. His spear jutted out the things back, while the monster’s fangs remained permanently sunken into the dead man’s shoulder.
The one person which Blackpaw couldn’t see was Cat Skull himself. Searching around, he wondered if he’d also died in the melee. Despite the great number of fiends they’d slain, the four remaining men were still harried by well over twice their number. Then Cat Skull’s voice cried out again. Looking further down the cavern, Blackpaw could see him perched along the craggy edge of that humongous magma chamber at the far side.
No sooner had he noticed this than a piercing cry echoed out behind them. Glancing back, he saw the soaring fiend at their backs just before it impacted them. Barreling through all three men, Blackpaw, White-eye, and Old Scars now found themselves falling into that deep chasm below.
Breath caught in his throat, Blackpaw looked all about him. His spear had fallen from his hands, the Red Mountain’s fiends swarmed all about him, and the red glow of the magma river was growing brighter the closer he came. To his right, Old Scars flailed in a desperate attempt to right his spinning fall, his torch now gone. To his left, White-eye sneered, his eyes fixed on and following a single target.
Blackpaw could already see his thinking. It was the one chance they could take that might save their lives. Finally noticing that he was being watched, White-eye looked to his brother and Old Scars and bellowed out a command. Blackpaw nodded, and both brothers splayed their arms and legs wide. Neither actually knew that this would slow their fall, but they did know it would give them the best chance to catch one of those flying beasts. Through his periphery, Blackpaw saw Old Scars splay the same way as soon as he righted his fall.
White-eye was the first to mount a flying fiend. Slamming into its back, he wrapped his arms around its neck and yanked up! Spitting out a choked screech, the fiend desperately beat its wings as it wobbled toward the charnel house that was the cavern’s floor. As it careened out of the sky, White-eye repeatedly beat his meaty fist into the side of its head. Once he made his crash landing he huddled up on the thing’s back, allowing its bulk to protect him from most of the impact.
Old Scars was the next to grab one. Getting hold of its ears, he wrenched its head back and forth. It howled with pain and rage, banking hard to its left as it also fell toward the cavern floor. Similar to White-eye, he huddled up on its body when it crashed, then slammed its head thrice against the stone platform.
Blackpaw’s own determination gave way to fear. While his brother and Old Scars had been easily able to grab one of the fiends, he found there were none within his path. Frantically he looked about, searching for a nearby outcropping or landing to grab hold of. There were none within reach.
Was this it? Would he meet his end here, in the heart of the Red Mountain?
No, for good fortune favored him once more on this night. Enraged to find the trio in their feeding chamber, the fiends which chased them into this cavern were determined to see the invaders dead. This ended up working in Blackpaw’s favor, for as he was looking about for a reachable handhold, he saw one of the fiends swooping down at him! Reacting swiftly, he grabbed the fiend’s ankle as it tried to snatch him, then grabbed the other as it desperately tried to rend him with those claws. Suddenly saddled with his struggling weight in a manner it didn’t expect, the monster made for the nearest piece of land: the cavern floor. As soon as he saw it beneath him, Blackpaw let go and landed with a roll.
“Ihmaquan na mon sheti!” Cat Skull shouted, stood upon his precarious perch with his arms splayed wide and his torch and spear gone. “Ihmaquan na mon sheti!” he repeated, and Blackpaw realized his men had climbed up with him, joining in his chorus.
Old Scars was on him then, pulling Blackpaw to his feet. The look on his face told Blackpaw that it was time for them to flee, and he called out to his brother. As he did, he saw the fiends descend on Cat Skull and his warriors. Looking down on the trio stoically, Cat Skull remained standing with his arms outstretched, as if in supplication to some greater power. Even as the leather-winged terrors overtook him, toppling him into that huge magma chamber, his position remained unchanged.
Blackpaw, White-eye, and Old Scars used the distraction to rearm themselves, then fled the chamber. Taking the opportunity presented by Cat Skull, they made their way back to the survivors as quickly as they could, only needing to dispatch two of the fiends along the way. Once back at the chamber, the trio freed the most able bodied captives from their sticky ooze bindings. As they did so, the mountain began to rumble and quake.
The brothers barked orders for those able few to help them. The able few soon became anyone as the danger of the mountain’s rumbling set in. Rapidly freed from their sticky confines, White-eye led the survivors out through the same narrow tunnel they first came through. Their original entrance into the mountain, the one which appeared as the petrified maw of a long-necked thunderfoot, lay too far away to risk making for. Instead, they made for the much nearer tube they found which led outside.
The survivors fled through that tunnel like ants fleeing a flooding nest. Making their way down the mountain as quickly as they could, they made it about halfway before they heard the first belching spews of lava spilling from the mountainside. By the time they reached the bottom, the morning sun had just begun to crest the eastern mountains, only to be blotted out by the column of smoke rising from the Red Mountain’s ugly peak.
Staying behind to guide those fleeing into the jungle, Blackpaw, White-eye, and Old Scars waited for an eruption which never came. Even after their people had made their escape, they kept vigil on the mountain for some time, curious to see if Cat Skull or his fellows survived. Alas, they were never seen again, but their sacrifice was not vain. By mid morning the survivors of the tribe were reunited with their families, and Old Scars was welcomed as one of their own. From that day onward, the jungle’s denizens rested easier at night. Though most would never know why, all were relieved once they realized that the terrors from the Red Mountain had at last gone silent.
Thank you for reading the first chapter of “Terrors From the Red Mountain,” my entry to the Warrior Wednesday/Sword & Saturday Mega Contest being hosted by
and in partnership with . Chapter 3 will be made available Tuesday, Jan. 28th.Chapter Word Count: 3,152
Total Word Count: 11,052
Chapter 1: Death Descends | Chapter 2: The Midnight Hunt | Chapter 3: As Our Foe Flies | Chapter 4: The Red Mountain | Chapter 5: Cat Skull’s Gambit
My first novella, In the Giant’s Shadow, is available for purchase! Lured to the sleepy farming community of Jötungatt by a mysterious white raven, Gaiur the Valdunite soon finds herself caught in a strange conspiracy of ritual murder and very real nightmares.
Purchase it in hardback, paperback, or digital on Amazon now:
Old scars is my favorite, easily. Great job, my friend! I really enjoyed this series.