Authors: Pete Rawlik
He performed the Rite of Supplication and once he was sure that the Mother was satisfied with him, he began his petition. “Great Thaqquallah, Mother of Us All, the Nug Soth are your most faithful of servants, and yet we are vexed, we are troubled, we are engaged in a most dire conflict. The Dholes, spawn of your womb, destroy our brood chambers, devour our young, imperil our very existence. We beseech you Mother, help us, help us protect our lives, our cities, our civilization, our species, help us and this war between your two children and we shall celebrate your glory forever.”
There was a long pause after Zkauba finished speaking, and then the Seer shuddered, the tendrils withdrew and the Seer spoke once more, this time in a voice wracked with pain. “You speak of the war between the Nug Soth and the Dholes. The Goddess sees no such war, only the natural order of things. Many and multi-form are the children of her flesh, but of those she has created only blessed Zkahrnizzen, born gravid, had the potential for self-awareness, and to her the All-Mother gave the task of being fruitful and multiplying so that someday her descendants might free the Goddess from her prison. The Goddess does not seek your praise, or adoration, she wishes to be free! And one day her children will free her from her imprisonment within Yaddith, and she will spread her seed throughout the universe.”
“But which of her children does she favor?” pleaded Zkauba.
The priest laughed, “The Riddle of Thaqquallah. How can it be that she favors neither, and both?” He coughed. “You are a fool to ask. It would be best not to dwell on the answer; you will not find any comfort in it, none at all.” Then the priest went silent and Zkauba knew his audience was over.
Zkauba left the Moon-Lens, and then the temple. He attempted to return to the surface, but the journey and his brief confrontation had left him weak and exhausted. Following the path back was not always easy and many were the times he deviated from it and found himself doubling back, searching for a missed sign. Days into his journey, his provisions nearly depleted he suddenly became dizzy, slipped and tumbled down a deep shaft or pit into a great dome of steaming, fetid pools. There was a horrendous smell and a great, snuffling noise, like that of a great beast searching. He pinned himself against the wall and cloaked himself in that translucent fabric, in hopes his presence would be concealed from whatever was coming from the other direction. It was the first time he had ever seen a Dhole alive and up close. The thing was massive; its worm-like bulk was twice his height in diameter, pale and segmented. Though it bore six limbs, they hung useless on the sides of its titanic body which humped along the ground like some sort of obscene grub. Although many report that the Dholes are blind, Zkauba could see a small cyclopean eye just above the obscenely probing snout, while six more nearly unnoticeable ocelli decorated the cranial ridges facing backwards. Though this monstrous thing could have easily crushed Zkauba he knew that despite its tremendous bulk it was only a juvenile example of the species, for it was not uncommon for Dholes to be as large, if not larger than small buildings or towering spires.
Knowing that creatures like this one were responsible for the attacks on the brooding ziggurats Zkauba steeled himself, slowly and silently he drew his weapons and waited for the right moment to engage. Whether it was the sound of the sword being drawn, or the gauntlets energizing, or perhaps even a slight flutter in the translucent cloak, the Dhole suddenly started and reared up to strike at the crouching wizard, its rasping snout chewing through the air. Instinctively Zkauba powered on his sword and with a smooth, fluid arc sliced through the tentacular proboscis. The beast squealed in pain and drew back, while the now stunted snout reeled through the air, a spray of bloody droplets raining down.
Still somewhat invisible, Zkauba launched himself into the air and plunged his dagger into the soft spot between segments of the behemoth. With his lower hands he grasped the armored ridges, while his upper sinistral arm once more swung the chain sword, this time at the beast’s head. It did not cut easy, great gouts of blood and gore sprayed out from the deadly mechanism, but the Dhole’s armored plates served to frustrate the blade and the thing quickly jammed, clogged by fibrous strands of cartilaginous tissue. Once more the Dhole screamed and reared up. The creature shook its mighty bulk, and though his grip was strong, Zkauba was no match for the physics of the situation, and he was flung from his perch leaving both his sword and dagger embedded in the flesh of the beast.
Zkauba tumbled through the air, allowing the momentum to carry him away from the creature before engaging his boots and ricocheting off the wall and back toward the Dhole. The creature was turning to face him, and though he was lacking both sword and dagger, he was not without armaments. As he travelled through the air Zkauba’s gauntleted lower hands manipulated the very atmosphere around him and drew out much of the energy latent within, using it to form a kind of electric spike, a form of artificial lightning. As the Dhole raised its bloody snout and opened its mouth to attack him, Zkauba launched the spike down the thing’s massive throat. The Dhole gulped in surprise and then wavered a bit as smoke began to pour from the edges of the thing’s jaws. Taking advantage of the Dhole’s sudden weakness Zkauba landed just above the thing’s cyclopean eye and then swiftly drove one of his vestigial fighting claws into it. Viscous fluid exploded as he penetrated the stiff cornea and lens, and the Dhole squirmed trying once more to throw the unwanted rider, but this time the effort was lackluster. Zkauba’s grip on the internal structure of the eye was too strong. For a moment the alien wizard thought that the struggle might dislodge the eye itself, but as the orb seemed to break from its setting the chthonic worm suddenly shuddered and then collapsed from its wounds. The victorious warrior cautiously stalked along the beast’s body and reclaimed his sword and dagger. Then without a single ounce of pity or compassion he made his way back toward the head of the monster and then made sure that the beast was dead.
He collapsed next to the creature; the struggle, the manipulation of energy, had taken its toll, and he needed to rest. He was hopeful that the battle had frightened off any other threats that might lurk within the nearby area, at least long enough for him to regain his strength. It was while he sat there, half drowsing in near slumber, that something odd caught his eye. As I have written before, this was the first time Zkauba had ever seen a live specimen, and the first time he had ever seen a juvenile at that. In this he noted the presence of six diminutive and rudimentary limbs, three on each side, that were normally not seen on larger exemplars. Scientific examination through vivisection had found suggestions of such structures hidden within the bodies themselves, but it had always been assumed that such limbs had been vestigial, and no longer served, or could serve any function. Their presence here on a juvenile suggested otherwise, and Zkauba was intrigued by a possible theory that crept into his head. Perhaps, he hypothesized, the Dholes were not always titanic grub-like monstrosities, perhaps their larval form was entirely different, one that had a slightly different physiology that used the six limbs for locomotion, which were then lost as the creature grew in size. Perhaps this larva was more vulnerable than the rampaging adults. Perhaps this was the weakness the Nug Soth had been looking for.
He grabbed one of the vestigial arms, and with his dagger cut it off. Though shriveled, withered even, nearly desiccated, the limb bore a remarkable resemblance to those of his own species. It bore the same joints, the same vestigial fighting claw on the hand, the same arrangement and number of fingers. It was then that Zkauba began to understand, and his mind drifted back to the enigmatic words of the priest. He scraped the filth from the limb and looked for what he hoped would not, could not be there. But it was, it was there, and he could see it with his own eyes. He understood the answer now. The Riddle of Thaqquallah had been solved, and it drove Zkauba mad.
The psyche of Zkauba retreated, fled reality, and I found myself forced to the surface, forced to take control of that alien body. It took me days to learn how, how to manipulate six limbs instead of four, how to eat things my human body would have rejected. It took days to learn how to wield the weapons, and artifices that made Zkauba what he was. Days turned into weeks, into months, and into years. By the time Zkauba had recovered from his breakdown, I was fully in control, and in possession of an elixir that was capable of keeping his psyche fully suppressed.
I had seen what Zkauba had seen inscribed there on the withered claw of the Dhole, and I knew what it meant. The Riddle of Thaqquallah: How can the Goddess favor neither of her children, and both? For there are no Nug Soth, and there are no Dholes, only the descendants of Zkahrnizzen. The proof was there, branded on the back of the Dhole’s claw: a simple oval with a slit through it, burned into the fleshy integument, the symbol of the Sleeping Eye, the brood house of Buo! The Dholes were simply another stage in the life cycle of the Nug Soth, one that fed on the very flesh of its own species. For eons the children of Zkahrnizzen would riddle the shell of Yaddith with their foul tunnels and warrens until they accomplished the task for which they had been created, and planet itself would implode. Then, and only then, would the crystal Moon-Lens be shattered, and Thaqquallah would be free to spawn amongst the stars.
This knowledge drove Zkauba mad, as it would have any Nug Soth. But I was a Man, a child of Earth, and such eldritch horrors did not shake me. Instead they empowered me, and where Buo and the amassed Nug Soth nations saw me as the Arch-Wizard Zkauba, I knew I was something more, something different, and something they could never understand. No matter what body I wore, I was a man. I was Randolph Carter, Warlock of Yaddith!
CHAPTER 12
From the Account of Robert Martin Olmstead
“Into the Ether”
I woke to a strange vibration, a deep melodic thrumming that makes the air electric, almost like a charged fluid. Oddly, while the sound permeated the air, the integral bench, the walls, and even the floor didn’t seem to be a conduit for the resonance. Like the exterior, the interior was a large oval, approximately one hundred feet long, comprised of the same latticework of a white material that that the exterior was. As I mentioned before, the interior was divided into three levels by two floors of the same strange material. Access between levels was accomplished by a centrally located, tightly curved ramp that reminded me of the central spiral of a conch. All of this meant that the ship was smooth and curving, completely devoid of any hard angles. One section of the curved wall was lined with dozens of cylinders, each larger than a full grown man. The other wall was lined with frosted, semi-transparent cabinets containing sundry items including bottles, jars, small idols, shelves of books, and even a stack of small gold ingots. At the far end, opposite the loading door, there was the control area. Like the rest of the ship it was smooth and white with an almost organic sense to it. The various raised panels present dozens of buttons, levers and actuators of all types. It was overwhelming to say the least.
Chandraputra was working furiously over the panels, and using his right hand, began orchestrating a series of esoteric symbols in the air above the equipment. In response a huge panel slid back along the wall and revealed a window. The window showed the village of Kingsport passing beneath us as we headed out over the ocean. “This ship,” announced Chandraputra, “is made almost entirely of solid light, a material created by the Nug Soth eons ago.”
I recognized that name from the book I had just read, I must have gasped or something because Asenath caught my eye and surreptitiously signaled me to be quiet.
“These ships can be thought of
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as being able to fold the very fabric of space and time around them into envelopes of the real
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that can then be shunted into the space in between. They are extremely fast, and
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can traverse the vast distances between stars in a matter of hours. However, within the boundaries of a planetary atmosphere such manipulations of
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the universal fabric are dangerously unstable. We will still be able to fold our way into the in-between, but we won’t
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be able to travel as fast as I would like. Still, we should be able to
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reach a velocity such that we shall be in Antarctica in a few
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hours with almost no problems.”
Waite chimed in a suspicious “Almost?”
Chandraputra bobbed his body up in a strange animal nod. “There are risks. Since we’ll be traveling
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near the speed of light in an arc, our instantaneous linear velocity at any given point may
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exceed the speed of light and generate some distortions in time. This could attract
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some unwanted attention.”
“Care to be more specific about what kind of attention?” pressed Hartwell.
“Time is like a huge, slow
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moving river. Objects moving with the river are
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virtually invisible, like fish
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hidden in the current, but a move sideways or against the current and the fish
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becomes obvious and easy prey.”
Hartwell’s eyes grew large. “Prey for what?”
Waite diverted the question. “Would you like to stay behind, Doctor Hartwell?”
Hartwell paused and studied the surrounding faces before focusing on Waite. “I’ll go. I just wanted to know what the risks were.”
Chandraputra raised his arms above his head. “If only it were that easy Doctor, I
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doubt any of us would have chosen the
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paths we now travel.”
The sense of motion was slight, but enhanced by the image provided through the window. There was an ethereal quality to our propulsion, and I was, as were most of the Weird Company, entranced by the things that suddenly appeared and surrounded the ship as we moved into what Chandraputra called the in-between. Only our strange captain, who seemed to be used to such things, was not enthralled by the scene. In contrast I, Elwood and Waite were held in rapt fascination at the vista beyond the ship.