“Not at the moment, thank you,” I told her.
“Maybe later, though,” Raoul said.
We al looked at him. “What if we invite the noisemakers”—he jerked his head toward the howls we’d been monitoring since our arrival at the gate—“a little closer?”
“Are you sure you want to do that?” asked Zel . “Normal y spiderhounds aren’t creatures you fight. They’re ones you hope you can outrun.”
I stared him straight in the eyes. “I have to put this name on the gate, Zel . You, of al people, should understand why.”
He nodded. “I have another idea. If it works, it might even get us out of here. But you have to trust me.”
“No problem,” I said. “Anybody else have any issues with trusting the cowboy?” I asked. Then before they could answer I did it for them. “Nope, we’re al for your plan. Don’t even bother fil ing us in. Just throw it in motion and we’l learn as we go.”
Zel nodded and began stomping. It was hypnotical y rhythmical, like the precursor to every stage show that had ever involved drums and heel taps. Helena joined him, linking her arm in his and adding a double stomp every fourth beat. Sometimes she would pause and grind her toe into the chalky soil, leaving a crescent moon–shaped indentation that, combined with al the others, began to look a lot like some of the spel s I’d seen scrawled across pieces of ancient parchment.
While Zel and Helena performed their bizarre dance, my comrades pul ed every blade they’d brought with them. Since my job was to bloody the Rocenz with its sacrifice, I gave Vayl my bolo. He held it in his left hand while his right continued to grip his cane sword, its sheath stil lying at the foot of the gate, waiting for the final outcome.
Raoul held his shining weapon with both hands while Lotus gripped the dagger he’d lent her.
They both stared off into the horizon thinking such different thoughts that it was a wonder to me that they could stand next to one another without smal lightning bolts zapping into their brain stems until one of them final y blew a gasket.
I didn’t see any weapons on Zel or Helena, though I sensed they were both carrying. Maybe it didn’t pay to display, especial y when you were basical y walking around inside a huge prison al day long.
Astral, perhaps sensing the rising tension, paced restlessly among the four of us as if we’d caged her. Most often her nose pointed toward the source of the howls and a new, deeper rumbling that signaled many more than two or three creatures heading our way. It seemed like she already knew Zel ’s plan and her place in it. Especial y when she leaped into my arms and said, “Hel o!” Suddenly the ground under my feet tilted. I grabbed Vayl’s arm as Astral anchored her claws into the soft meat of my shoulder. Vayl wrapped his arms around my waist as another rumble of unstable ground moved us into an awkward fighting-for-upright dance.
Zel and Helena intensified their movements on the other side of the gate, barely acknowledging the dead earth beneath their feet groaning like an arthritic old man trying to get out of bed in the morning.
“Guys,” Astral hooted.
“What?” I turned my head so my ear was next to her mouth. “What do the guys need to do?”
“Geyser coming!” she shouted just as a fountain of boiling-hot water shot out of the ground on Zel ’s and Helena’s side of the fence, its perimeter inside the perfect circle I could now see that Zel and Helena had made with their boot, toe, and heel marks.
“Do you see how we did it?” Zel cal ed.
“Yes,” said Vayl.
“We’re gonna need at least three or four on each side of the fence before the durgoyles wil smel the water and come to drink.” He didn’t have to explain further. Durgoyles were hel ’s livestock, herds of four- leggers inhabited by the souls of those who had plodded through life with rings through their noses, al owing everyone from gangbangers to dictators to lead them into evil as if they were as docile and dumb as cattle. Bigger and meaner than ful -grown moose, they fed on scavenged meat and spent most of their waking hours thinking up new ways to maim each other. If we could attract a herd, one of them could be sacrificed to the Rocenz. Unfortunately, where there were durgoyles, you could usual y count on at least a couple of spiderhounds as wel . Somewhat ironical y, even death’s realm had a circle of life, and the spiderhounds had managed to climb the food chain faster than the durgoyles. What a crazy flipping world.
What Zel had surmised was that we’d been hearing spiderhounds fol owing a herd somewhere south of us. Now he wanted to turn the durgoyles our way. Which was an excel ent plan since we didn’t want to sacrifice any humans to the Rocenz. But none of us discussed the possibility that we’d probably have to fight their natural predators if we meant to get back to our world alive. Instead we paired up and joined Zel and Helena, copying their moves until every one of us, Vayl included, had become an expert at the watering hole dance. One by one geysers shot into the air, until we had to stand on the far right side of the gate in order to avoid being burned.
And stil Astral continued repeating her message. “Geyser coming!”
“Okay, okay,” I final y told her. “I gotcha.”
“Do you think that is enough?” Vayl asked as we watched seven fountains stink up the atmosphere. They smel ed of sulphur and unwashed ass. I couldn’t imagine any living thing sticking its face in a concoction with such an obnoxious odor, especial y one designed to boil your nose off the second you came within a foot of it. But within five minutes we could hear the steady clip-clop of what Zel estimated was a herd of between forty and sixty durgoyles. And Raoul said, “I see them!
Horns on the horizon and closing fast!”
They emerged from the water-induced fog like a fleet of sailing ships speeding into view, their gray skins resembling stained sails, their protruding ribs reminding me of rigging. The yips and howls continuing at the back of the herd explained their speed. I don’t know where they thought they were headed, but the plan definitely seemed to involve escaping the spiderhounds snapping at their hooves.
The doomed animals’ horns grew straight out from their heads and then curled back in, so that the tips were constantly rubbing against their necks, leaving a steady trickle of blood that turned their forelegs a permanent rusty color. Flies pursued them relentlessly, buzzing in and out of their ears, forcing them to slap their hindquarters with whiplike tails that left bloody slashes, opening sores for the insects to lay eggs in, many of which had hatched and
