“Out set it!” raged the overmaster. “Out set the meat! Watch it die I will and cloak I then will find.”
The umber hulk seized Teldin, pinioned his arms to his side, and swung the human out over the edge. The great old master flowed underneath Teldin, the little head lunging and snapping up at his dangling feet. Set for the end, Teldin awaited the inevitable drop.
To the farmer’s surprise, the umber hulk, with its arms fully extended, carefully lowered Teldin onto a small wooden platform about the size of a flagstone. Teldin wobbled before finally gaining his balance. The platform was set atop a pole in the center of the pit, just tall enough to be out of the yrthni-ma ‘adi’s jaws. This cleverly made sitting impossible, since the creature would then be within reach. Teldin could only remain safe as long as he stood and kept his balance. The creature, knowing this, waited patiently below.
“Until it falls,” called out the overmaster from his seat of honor, “meat remains and to their duties my quastoth will return. With me M’phei will stay.” The other neogi grumbled, envious of the honor shown M’phei, but they slowly left the balcony.
From his perch, Teldin watched them leave. The human felt as if he were floating in space, so precariously balanced was he. The overmaster watched and waited eagerly. Weak from his tortures, Teldin fought to control the muscle spasms that seized his legs and back. Memories of the pain ached through his joints; exhaustion floated into his muscles. “Fall meat will,” the overmaster intoned just as Teldin wavered, struggled to regain his footing, wobbled some more, and finally brought himself back to stability.
Time passed and Teldin somehow managed to remain on the platform. The overmaster watched Teldin constantly, waiting patiently for what the neogi knew must come. Below, the yrthni-ma‘adi sat motionless, though now and then its skin rippled and surged, as if something moved just beneath its surface.
Finally, it happened. Teldin’s eyes closed a little too long and suddenly he was falling.
Teldin hit the fleshy form beneath him with a glancing blow, bounced off onto the open floor, and sprawled into the dirt. The yrthni-ma‘adi gave a scream of raw desire and surged toward Teldin in a flowing mass. As the human struggled to his knees, his mind filled with panic and he felt something soft brush the back of his legs.
From above the farmer could hear the overmaster let loose an exultant cry. “Shown itself cloak has!”
“Damn cloak!” Teldin gasped as he dove to the side, dodging the giant, maggotish old master’s lunge. The cloth billowed behind him, just missing being caught in the bloated neogi’s jaws. The creature hit the wall with a resounding thud, shaking the overmaster on the platform above. With a screech of pain, the yrthni-ma’adi hauled its bulk around for another attack. Teldin scrambled backward and warily circled away from the creature, trying to keep the small pole of his former perch between them.
The human had no idea how long he had been playing this game of lunge and dodge, nor any idea how much longer he could keep it up. Each breath was a searing gasp of pain. His side was on fire, and the wounds on his chest were bleeding again. With each lunge, the weakened farmer moved a little slower and the jaws of the yrthni-ma‘adi snapped a little closer.
“Human meat,” taunted the overmaster from above, “soon kinsman avoid not. Your flesh he will eat. Then cloak I will take and most powerful overmaster I will be.”
Teldin risked a glance up at the eel-like little face that peered from the darkness. “Why don’t you come down and get it, you monster?” he defiantly breathed. The bloated creature moved in the corner of his eye, and the exhausted yeoman shuffled left, keeping the pole between the two.
“Wait I will, meat. Much longer it will be not,” the neogi’s voice echoed back. “Wise that is.”
Before Teldin could answer, the heaving bulk lunged again, this time straight across the center, ignoring the pole. The light timber snapped like a dry twig under the beast’s hurtling mass. The human dove out of the way, wincing as his already pummeled shoulder smashed into the wall. With a screech of frustration, the swollen neogi lunged again with lightning speed. The cloakmaster rolled across the ground and barely managed to get his body clear before the sluglike form crashed into the wall where he had been. A crack of wood echoed through the hold and the walls of the pen trembled. Above, the two neogi, the overmaster and M’phei, clung fearfully to their perches.
Teldlin scrambled to his feet before the yrthni-ma‘adi recovered, rapping his knuckles against the broken pole. Not daring to take his eyes off the creature, he groped frantically until his fingers closed on the shaft. The farmer awkwardly hefted it, turning the jagged broken end toward the beast. The pole made a long and clumsy spear, but it was better than no weapon at all, and with it Teldin could jab at the bloated form as Gomja had taught him, trying to keep the creature at bay.
Surprised by this sudden counterattack, the beast slowly gave way. Teldin drove it back, until the yrthni-ma‘adi crouched along the wall opposite him, feinting first to the left, then right, while the human inexpertly parried each move. Just finishing a thrust to the right, the farmer noticed a crack in the wall alongside him. It was where the beast had crashed before, apparently with enough force to splinter the pen’s wooden planking.
The jagged line became a chance in Teldin’s mind as he formulated a plan for escape. Feigning exhaustion, he let the pole drop slightly. The great old master lunged forward, only to be brought to a halt as the lanky yeoman snapped the tip up in its path. Quivering with rage, the creature heaved back toward its wall and renewed its lunges and feints with increased intensity, gurgling in frustration. Teldin kept toying with it, driving the beast to even more frantic attempts.
Suddenly the distended creature lunged forward in earnest. Teldin was not ready to put his plan into action, but when he thrust the pole, the great old master was not deterred. The beast hit the shaft squarely; the wood pierced the fleshy body with a squishy pop. The pole was torn from Teldin’s grasp and skidded across the deck until it jammed against the wall. The great old master bore down upon the spar, forcing the wood to twist and bend. The beast’s pallid, baggy skin tore open in a great rent, oozing yellowish ichor. Squealing and grunting in half-formed speech, the swollen freak flailed madly, crashing against the pen. The farmer dodged aside, narrowly avoiding pole and flesh as the enraged monster slammed from wall to wall. Abruptly the great old master sagged in a quivering heap, mouthing whimpering moans as its body gurgled and heaved.
“My unborn kin-slaves! My children you hurt, human meat!” the overmaster screamed from overhead. The golden-skinned neogi scrambled forward and peered over the edge, looking down at its freakish progenitor, then glared at the stumbling human. “You great old master slowly eats! Look what you have done.” The malevolent spider-eel waved a claw toward the injured grotesquery.
Teldin turned to look, attracted by a sucking, tearing noise that came from the beast. This was not the monster’s mewling, but the sound of flesh slowly pulling apart. In the dim light, the human saw the oozing wound from his spear heave, wiggle, then part. A squirming, wormlike shape, about as thick as the farmer’s muscular thigh, protruded from the gash. It thrust about, then fell to the deck with a soft, wet plop. Another followed, then a third; on the floor they looked like segmented and slime-covered maggots of obscene size. Even in this larval stage, Teldin could see the needlelike teeth and snakelike heads of tiny neogi. The worms writhed and weakly bit anything their blind faces touched, in venomous imitation of their elders. Repulsed, Teldin watched in unmoving horror. The deformed parent, perhaps sensing the man’s shock, sprang forward at the farmer, launching its bloated body with astounding might. At first unaware of the attack, Teldin barely tore his attention from the vile offspring in time. The farmer pitched to the deck, and the flaccid mass brushed over his back. Ichor from the wound dribbled across him and Teldin barely rolled clear of the crushing weight.