Authors: Chad Oliver
Who,
or
what,
caught
the
fish
down
here?
No
one
answered
his
unspoken
question,
but
obviously
Tlaxcan
had
also
been
doing
some
figuring
with regard
to
those
dead
fish.
He
quickened
his
pace,
torch held
high
aloft,
and
swung
his
bow
around
in
his
free hand
so
that
it
was
ready
for
action.
Fang
caught
the heightened
odor
too,
and
whined
and
growled
by turns.
They
crossed
an
icy
stream,
and
Mark
felt
as
though he
were
stepping
barefooted
through
piles
of
drifting jellyfish.
He
did
not
relish
the
thought
of
wading through
water
that
he
could
not
see,
and
he
was
tense and
nervous,
waiting
for
something
to
happen.
Nothing
did,
however,
and
they
went
on
through
the
great cavern
without
incident.
Tlaxcan
led
him
into
a
small
branching
tunnel
that shortly
opened
up
again
into
another
cave
room,
this time
much
smaller
than
the
one
they
had
just
been through,
but
still
a
cavern
of
considerable
size.
It
was pitch
dark,
and
Tlaxcan’s
torch
was
growing
dim.
Fang whined
constantly,
and
almost
crawled
along,
fiat
on the
floor.
Mark
felt
the
hair
on
the
back
of
his
neck stand
up,
and
he
began
to
shiver
uncontrollably.
Even Tlaxcan
slowed
his
pace,
his
breathing
harsh
and shallow
in
the
stillness.
Something
was
wrong
with
the
room.
Mark
could
not
for
the
life
of
him
figure
out
what was
the
matter.
The
smell
was
stronger,
but
that
was all.
There
was
no
sound,
save
for
Fang’s
whining
and the
chuckle
of
water
from
the
cavern
behind
them.
All was
darkness,
darkness
and
silence,
and
yet
.
.
.
Eyes.
There
were
two
eyes
looking
at
them
from
the
blackness
of
the
cavern.
Two
eyes
where
no
eyes
could
be, glowing
with
yellow
flames
in
the
gloom
under
the earth.
There
was
not
a
sound,
only
the
two
unblinking eyes
like
misplaced
stars
watching
them.
The
eyes
were bad
enough,
but
their
position
was
worse.
The
eyes
were
a
good
fifteen
feet
off
the
ground.
“Tlaxcan,”
Mark
whispered.
“Tlaxcan—”
With
the
awful
suddenness
of
a
thunderclap
when there
is
not
a
cloud
in
the
sky,
an
ear-splitting
roar bellowed
through
the
cave.
The
sound
blasted
against Mark’s
ears,
numbing
his
brain
with
fear.
It
was
the most
fearful
sound
he
had
ever
heard
in
his
life—and coming
as
it
did
from
fifteen
feet
off
the
ground
.
.
.
“Get
back,
Mark!”
shouted
Tlaxcan.
“Back
in
that corner!”
Mark
did
not
move.
Frightened
as
he
was,
he
had not
the
remotest
intention
of
leaving
Tlaxcan
to
fight a
rear
guard
delaying
action
by
himself.
Instead,
he moved
up
beside
him.
Forcing
his
nerves
to
steady down,
he
took
one
of
his
torches
and
lit
it
from
the dying
flame
of
Tlaxcan’s.
The
light
flared
out
suddenly, and
he
caught
a
quick
glimpse
of
something
enormous and
black
under
the
eyes.
The
thing
roared
again.