ahead. Across the gray stone lay a carpet of bones, some old and powdery, some with smears of blood and bits of sinew still clinging to the joints – though none looked fresh enough to have provided the fiend's new parchment. Theseus flushed, and his stomach began to writhe. The dank air grew unbearably close, whether because of the horrid stench or because of his own mounting fear, he could not say. To be rid of the clinging mass of husks, he would have peeled off his own skin. Only the thought that they would burst prevented him from trying.
'Can you do this thing?' Karfhud asked.
'If I can't, kill me here.'
'If you cannot, I will not have the chance.'
Carefully picking his way.through the bones, the fiend led Theseus to where a small fissure opened into the wall. Taking the crooked gap to be the entrance to Sheba's lair, the Thrasson slipped forward and peered into the cramped passage – then Karfhud quietly grasped his head and redirected his gaze up the passage.
About three paces ahead, the tunnel opened into a large, serpentine chamber coiled around an immense pillar of natural stone. The column was square and nearly as broad as a house, the top so high that it was lost in the vaulted darkness above. Aside from a mat of tangled bones strewn about its base, the shaft's only adornment was a decorative post carved into each of its comers. There was no entrance, at least on the two sides the Thrasson could see.
After allowing the Thrasson to inspect the battle arena, Karfhud waved a claw at the fissure. 'Wait in there – with your sword sheathed; it would not do for Sheba to notice its light before you strike.'
Theseus peered again into the cramped passage. It was half filled with the powdering skeletons of those who had perished before in its tight confines, no doubt with the monster lurking just outside. The Thrasson could squeeze his body into the crack easily enough, but his bulky jacket of pods would never fit.
'What are you frightened of?' Karfhud growled, noticing his hesitation. 'Just imagine these pods of yours are soft enough not to break. They are all in your mind anyway.'
'If so, you have imagined them too – or have you forgotten their bite?'
The fiend snorted in disgust. 'We could trade places, but you can hardly be the bait. Sheba would catch you in an instant.'
Theseus glanced into the serpentine chamber and saw the wisdom of what Karfhud said. The fiend's legs, both longer and more powerful than those of any human, were more suitable to plowing through the jumble of bones.
The Thrasson took a deep breath, then gingerly squeezed into the fissure. Most of the pods, still pulsing in time to his heart, simply passed ghostlike through the stone. A few of the larger husks, squeezed like grapes between fingers, stopped throbbing and rolled along his body. But only one broke. It was a big emerald one that filled his mind with a nettling green fog; as the ichor spilled down his arm, his heart began to race, and his jaws ached with the urge to vomit. He clamped his mouth shut and tried to tell himself it was only the smell of moldy bones troubling him.
Karfhud stuck his dark head into the fissure and fixed his red eyes on Theseus's face. 'It is a mystery to me, this insanity that has come over you – but know this, Thrasson: Karfhud delga' Talator does not give his blood bond to cowards or sods.' Compared to the rancid fetor of the cavern, the brimstone stink of the fiend's breath was almost a relief. 'When the time comes, you will act like what you are-or we both shall perish.'
Theseus nodded-though not too much, as he did not want to burst any more of his pods. 'You may count on it.'
'Good.' Karfhud pulled his head from the fissure, then glanced toward the pillar. 'Stay hidden until you hear us pass this tunnel. I'll stop just beyond the mouth and drive Sheba back toward you. I am in no condition for a long battle, so take her legs from behind, and quickly. After that, we can scatter her at leisure.'
Karfhud picked the scab on his wrist and offered his blood to dress the Thrasson's star-forged blade. Then, with one last exhortation to be ready, the fiend turned away. Though the bones lay knee-deep in the next chamber, the tanar'ri moved through them in utter silence. Theseus slipped his sword into its scabbard, plunging the fissure into utter darkness, and tried not to think about what would happen when he leapt from his cranny. Perhaps the tanar'ri was right; perhaps he was only imagining the husks – but if so, then he was also imagining the Lady of Pain, and nobody seemed to doubt her existence.
Theseus was careful to keep his mind off Karfhud until the battle began, which happened soon enough. It started softly, with a low, sonorous growl that rumbled through the cave like an earthquake, making the bones dance, filling the passages with the eerie chatter of a thousand ribs knocking together. Next, the tanar'ri let loose with a deafening bellow – it sounded as terrified as it did angry – and the Thrasson knew the time had come to make his plans.
There were a couple of muffled thuds somewhere deep in the serpentine chamber, then the distant crackling of Karfhud's heavy feet stomping through the bone pile. Theseus did not consider, even for a moment, the possibility that the fiend intended to let him live after the battle. As little as the Thrasson knew about the maps, he was sure the tanar'ri would have liked it better if he did not know anything-and lords of the Abyss had a habit of getting exactly what they liked.
A sharp tearing sound rasped up the passage, followed by a tanar'ri curse and a loud, wet slap. The monster roared, leaving Theseus's ears ringing and making it nearly impossible to hear the bones crackling under the feet of the two enormous brutes. The Thrasson began to ease out of the fissure, praying he would not burst too many of the husks. He would not be much use lying on the ground writhing in pain. And, whatever Karfhud was planning for after the battle, the fiend was telling the truth about one thing, at least: if they did not destroy the monster together, they would perish together.
Karfhud's heavy steps splintered past the mouth of the passage, with Sheba's close behind. Theseus pushed a leg free of the fissure-and felt a pop. Something warm and sticky oozed down his thigh. He nearly bit his tongue in.two to keep from screaming, then his leg went dead and useless, a scalding wave of anguish seething down its length. His knee buckled, and he tumbled out of the fissure onto the dark, bone-strewn floor.
How many pods burst, or which ones, Theseus could not say. He simply fell into a boiling ocean of pain. For an instant-it could have been no longer than that, though it seemed an hour to him-he lay there trying not to scream, not to writhe or beat his feet against the floor, or to do anything that would draw the monster's attention. Half a dozen paces away, he could hear the battle raging: growling, pounding, tearing, snorting, popping, snapping, splintering, and muffled shattering. Karfhud growled, Sheba roared, he screeched, she wailed. The smell of sulfur and ash, tanar'ri gore and monster blood, filled the passage.
Theseus pushed himself to his feet. The effort sent rivers of molten slag boiling through his veins, but he forced
