'This smell good place,' said Mike. 'This warm. We stay, maybe. Make friends.''What?' said Drake. 'By singing happy song, perhaps?''No harm to try,' said Mike.
As he started to sing, Drake assessed the moonlit tableau. As well as the three grass-clad strangers, he saw scattered bowls, a couple of dead animals and, further away, two pyramids of something which was perhaps offal. Drake guessed that, here, the Door was worshipped as a sacred shrine.
In the shadow-tangled jungle beyond the clearing, strange creatures – birds? insects? – talked in screeching voices. Since they made this much noise by night, Drake wondered what the racket was like by day.
One of the grass-clad men tried to swat Disaster with a stick. Disaster cut the stick away with a single sword-stroke. Then all three strangers attacked him simultaneously. Reluctantly, Mike intervened with his titanium battle-rod, braining a couple of them. 'Let's leave,' said Drake.
'Nay, man,' said Disaster. 'We're winning, so why run?'
'We've won for the moment,' said Drake. 'But listen. Hear that? Sounds like people! Lots of them. Unhappy, too!'
As he spoke, a mob of grass-clad savages burst from the fringes of the jungle and attacked. Moments later, a brace of them had been broken by Mike's battle-rod, and the rest were running. Drake turned to the Door.
'You're not going, are you?' said Jon Disaster. 'They'll be back soon for some more games.''Then have fun,' said Drake. 'I'll see you later.''Nay, man,' said Disaster. 'Wait for the others.''We'll as like see them in hell as anywhere,' said Drake.
And, as Mike once more began to sing a happy song, Drake jumped through the Door. And instantly wished he had not.
In burning sunlight, a huge lizard-beast animated itself toward him on its two hind legs. Its front paws, built for grasping, had claws as fell as anything which ever stalked a nightmare. Drake was dimly aware of confused noise and shouting in the background, but all his attention was focused on the monster.Yes, it was real.Yes, he was not imagining it.So . . .'Nice to know you,' said Drake. 'Hello and goodbye!'
He leaped towards the Door – but was knocked down by a stranger jumping through it. Drake's sword went flying as they rolled off the plinth and onto the sand.'Hey,' said Drake. 'We have to-'
Then said no more, for the stranger started to strangle him. The stranger was one of the men Jon Disaster and Whale Mike had so recently been contending with by moonlight.
Desperately, Drake fought to break the stranglehold. He could not! The stranger was strong, yes, built like a wrestler. Determined to kill. Drake, flat on his back on the sand, panting, sweating, struggling, saw the lizard- monster looming above them.The lizard-monster leaned down casually.Then struck.
It hooked huge claws under the stranger's ribs. It hoisted him up, then slashed at Drake with its spare man-mangier. Drake rolled sideways. Another stranger burst from the Door – and the monster grabbed him.
Holding a man in each clawed hand, it tried to cram both into its maw simultaneously. While it was thus occupied, Drake grabbed his sword.'Gaaa!' he screamed.
And hacked the monster's guts open. It clapped its hands together, smashing its two claw-hooked prey together – then flung its arms wide, sending the two bodies flying.The bodies fell sprawling to the dust.
The monster loomed over Drake, who was in easy reach of its jaws and claws. If he turned to run, it would kill him. He tried to ease himself backwards, shifting his boots shuffle by shuffle on the underfoot sand, keeping his eyes fixed on the monster.
With an oiled, fluid motion, slick as a fish swimming through water, the monster eased itself forward. Blood dripped slowly from its claws. Red blood.Bugger! There was no getting away!
The monster was watching him, aye, staring him out, trying to paralyse him with terror. Yes, as weasel will paralyse rabbit.
'I'm no rabbit, man!' screamed Drake, in something close to hysteria.
He was panting frantically. His legs were shuddering. He was pissing himself. He was grasping his sword in a vice-like grip. He was a moment away from collapse. Then remembered – very clearly – duelling on the deck of the
Warwolf in the Penvash Channel. He remembered the weapons muqaddam saying:'Grip, remember? Relaxed yet firm.'Words like crystal.
'Yes,' hissed Drake, eyeing the monster, waiting for it to strike. 'Yes . . .'
He had his breathing under control now. He was remembering the weapons muqaddam preaching:
'Breathing in battle is life, is death. Breathe deep. Breathe slow. Master fear through your breathing.'And Drake hissed:'Yes . . .'
And remembered the weapons muqaddam's favourite saying, which lived on though the man himself was dead:'If you must die, then die with style!''Yes!' shouted Drake.Convincing himself of his courage.
And the monster roared. Lunging at Drake with its jaws.Drake met teeth with bronze.
As metal and ivory clashed, Jon Disaster came leaping through the Door.'Gaaa!' screamed Drake. Swinging again at the monster.
As he did so – Disaster struck. He chopped into the monster's tail. It tried to turn, swinging its neck around – and Drake, with a scream, hacked at the neck.The monster wavered.
Jon Disaster tucked his sword under his arm as if it were a spear, and charged, coming at the creature from behind, sinking good bronze deep into its spine. As it subsided, Drake swung again at its neck, once, twice, then thrice.
Then wiped some of the blood and sweat from his face, and looked around for fresh enemies.Finding none.
Now he had time to attend to something further removed than the threat of imminent death, he saw he was standing in a huge circular arena ringed with walls of white marble rising high and bright to tiers of seating where tens of thousands of people stood waving, shouting, cheering, jeering, or screaming with excitement. That was the source of the audio confusion he had been vaguely aware of all through his monster-fight.
'Thanks, fans,' said Drake, in a sardonic voice which suggested his nerves were in a much better state than they were.
He began to strut his stuff, waving to the crowd, and blowing kisses in all directions. This posturing performance took him to a tall much-gargoyled pillar of stone standing amidst the sands of the arena just thirty paces from the Door.
Tied to it was a man with purple skin and violet eyes. He wore a purple robe clasped with a golden brooch. Gold hung from his ears. Was it … ? Yes. It was Prince Oronokd. Drake never forgot a truly hated rival. So who was that tied to the other side of the gargoyled post?
It proved to be a high-breasted woman with flaming red hair. Her cloak was also purple, but her skin was the same red as her hair.'Zanya!' shouted Drake.
His voice, hoarse with a regular battle-thirst, cracked as he screamed her name. She looked at him with eyes dull with the horrors of imprisonment, nightmare and threat of death.'Who are you?' she said.
'You know who I am!' said Drake. 'Your lover! Your one and only love! Your true love, aye!'
'I have no love,' said Zanya, in a dull voice. 'I live only for the Flame.''But I love you!' said Drake.
'Are you an emissary from the Flame?' she asked, bewildered at these declarations of love from a total stranger.
'Yes,' said Drake, deciding that full explanations of his undying love for her could wait until later.
And he cut her loose.'My name is Zanya,' she said.
T know,' said Drake. 'Didn't I just shout your name? You are Zanya Kliedervaust, the most beautiful woman in the whole world.'
'The Flame has no use for beauty,' said Zanya, speaking like one drugged or drunk. Or sleeptalking, perhaps.
'You're beautiful regardless,' said Drake. 'And passionate. Gouda Muck told me. He said you dream nightly of lust.'
'Yes,' she said, shocked to realize Gouda Muck had somehow divined her secret at a distance and communicated it to this stranger.
'Gouda Muck sent me here,' said Drake, inventing furiously. 'He sent me to gratify your physical passion and impregnate you with many children.'Zanya swayed on her feet.
'I think we may have a communications problem here,' she said faintly. 'I don't think Gouda Muck could have
