Temple Hill - Drew Karpyshyn [94]
"Corin!" someone nearby shouted, but the name held no urgency for the enthralled warrior, its meaning swallowed up by the pandemonium emanating from the darkness.
The beast emerged from the shadows, an oozing, amorphous slime of eyes and teeth enmeshed in a squirming jelly of mushy, formless flesh. It crept across the cavern floor by extending gooey pseudopods and sticky tendrils from its amoeboid body, then pulling the rest of its gelatinous form forward. Hundreds of eyes twisted and swayed atop stalks protruding from the viscous puddle. Within the shapeless, quivering mass of runny flesh countless maws of tiny razors gnashed and wailed, producing the horrible commotion overpowering Corin's senses.
Corin's body took a reflexive step back. Even in his dulled and deadened state it recoiled from the repulsive, advancing specimen.
"Corin!" he heard again, yet he remained oblivious. The sharp pain of a hard slap io his cheek snapped him from his stupor. He shook his head to clear the confusion from his mind and gave a nod to Fendel to let the gnome know the stinging blow had brought him back to his senses.
"Fall back," the gnome shouted above the clamoring uproar. "Let me take care of this!"
Corin hesitated. If combat was imminent, he should face their adversary, not the little gnome. Then he took another look at the gibbering, babbling mass of mucous-like matter. He imagined a host of the slimy protrusions snaking out toward him if he got in close enough to use his swords, engulfing his legs, wrapping around his arms, dragging him helplessly to the ground. He shuddered as his mind summoned the unbidden image of his own body immobilized by the gummy tentacles while the mass of mouths and eyes enveloped his form and devoured him alive.
He grunted at his lack of mental discipline, as he snapped out of his reverie. Attacking the horror would be a foolish proposition, he realized. How could he possibly engage it in combat? It had no arms or legs, no obvious vital organs. Slicing the thing in half might actually create a pair of independent beings, forcing him to deal with not one but two alien, unfamiliar opponents. Recognizing his own talents were useless in this situation, the soldier assented to Fendel's order and retreated-leaving the wizened mage to his own devices.
Fendel's hastily cast incantation conjured a wheel of burning flame, its diameter nearly as tall as the gnome himself. The wheel stood upright on the surface of the tunnel floor. With a mere point of his finger, Fendel started the wheel rolling toward the hideous entity.
A tentacle of dripping slime shot out from the thing's center and wrapped itself around the blazing wheel. The gooey substance of the tentacle instantly melted into bubbling liquid. The stench of searing sludge assailed Corin's nostrils, making him retch.
The chaotic babble rose to the pitch of a scream and the creature's form raised itself up into an oozing pillar, dozens of mouths spewing spittle and bile at the burning wheel rolling relentlessly forward. Wherever the spray struck the rock, it exploded in a burst of flashing, white-hot light, nearly blinding Corin.
But the spray from the many mouths couldn't quench the magical flames of Fendel's burning wheel. The monster slid backward, tendrils and pseudopods groping behind it in an effort to escape the heat. The thing was slow, much slower than the gnome's fiery juggernaut.
The wheel rolled over the center of the creature's mass, its viscous body beginning to seethe and boil from the heat. The gibbering babble became shrieking screams as the creature was consumed by the fire. Fendel's concentration never wavered. He rolled the wheel back and forth across the dying monstrosity until the only sound left was the crackle of the flames and the soft, wet explosions of popping bubbles from its cooking flesh.
"I suspect the way from here on in will be clear," Fendel observed calmly,