Swords Against the Shadowland

Cherig's dog stood howling in the open doorway of the Silver Eel, its muzzle thrust toward the darkening sky. The Mouser leaped over the beast and ran inside, finding no sign of Cherig or anyone else. Rushing up the stairs, he pushed open the door to the room he shared with Fafhrd, snatched up the coil of rope with the grapnel attached, and dashed out again.

Two at a time, he descended the stairs, and collided with a breathlessly ascending Fafhrd.

"The tower!" the northern giant shouted excitedly as he clutched the rail to keep from falling backward.

Of course, Fafhrd had had the same idea, seen the same opportunity. They thought alike, Fafhrd and he. Sometimes they seemed even to share the same mind.

The Mouser picked himself up and rubbed his bruised rump. "There's a good chance the guards are busy elsewhere," he said, moving past his partner. Outside, he paused again to stare upward. Now the great shadow obscured fully three-quarters of the sun. In the west, a pair of premature stars twinkled.

"Come on!" Fafhrd urged, grabbing the coil of rope from his partner and throwing it over his own broad shoulder. "What's the matter? You've never seen an eclipse before?"

The Mouser struggled to feign a sophisticated calm. "Eclipse?" he said. "Of course it's an eclipse." He ran on before Fafhrd could see the look of relief on his face. He'd heard of such things. He wasn't uneducated, and he knew more than just a little astronomy. He'd just never seen one.

"An eclipse," he muttered under his breath, disgusted that Fafhrd had known something he hadn't.

TEN THE TOWER OF KOH-VOMBI

Over Lankhmar, a fiery crescent burned in the darkening sky. Unexpected night swallowed the city while fear and madness spread through the streets. A terrible lamentation rose as panicked citizens fled into the roads, pleading for mercy, begging their gods to spare them from the destruction of the world. In the southern part of the city, many hurried northward to seek their temples, unaware of the slaughter going on as priests made war on each other.

In the deepening shadows of Nun Street, Fafhrd and the Mouser crouched down and stared toward a lonely black-stoned tower.

"Can you hit that window?" the Mouser whispered.

Fafhrd eyed the narrow, dark opening halfway up the tower's facing wall. "Not if we lose the light entirely," he answered grimly. His gaze swept around. Rising, he adjusted the weight of the grapnel and line concealed under his cloak. "I don't see any soldiers or guards."

"Called to the Temple District," the Mouser said. "I expected it." He nodded ahead. "Let's go."

They charged the iron fence that surrounded the tower. Reaching the ten-foot barrier first, Fafhrd bent low and braced his hands on the rusted metal bars. Running hard, the Mouser leaped, one foot barely brushing Faffird's shoulder. Fafhrd sprang erect, catapulting his smaller companion into the air. Waving his arms for balance, his gray cloak flapping, the Mouser landed lithely in the tall weeds that filled the space between the fence and the tower.

Briefly, Fafhrd studied the top of the fence, which was only three feet above his head. Backing a few paces, he took a quick running step. One foot pushed off an iron bar as his hands caught the top cross-bar, and he vaulted over.

"It should be a crime to be so tall," the Mouser muttered as his partner landed beside him.

"It's a crime to be on this side of the fence," Fafhrd reminded. Looking quickly around, he noted people on the rooftops along Nun Street. The eclipse held them in thrall, and he doubted anyone had witnessed the tower's invasion. Still, he bent low, using the weeds for concealment as he ran toward the mysterious edifice.

After twenty paces, the soft ground and weeds gave way to a broken paving of large flat stones and a terrace of steps that ringed the tower. No entrance or opening revealed itself at ground level.

"How in Mog's name does Malygris get in?" the Mouser wondered, frowning.

His gaze fastened on the window high above his head, Fafhrd freed the hidden line and grapnel. Stepping back, he let out a few feet of line and lofted the clawed weight upward. Metal scraped on stone. Grapnel and line plummeted downward.

Covering his head, the Mouser cursed and jumped backward as the grapnel crashed on the spot where he'd stood.

With a sheepish look and a shrug, Fafhrd rapidly coiled the line again and made a second toss. This time, the grapnel sailed expertly through the dark opening. Fafhrd tugged on the line until it snapped tight.

Without a word, the Mouser drew Catsclaw from its sheath and put the dagger between his teeth. Taking the line, he climbed rapidly, hand over hand, his soft-booted feet making no noise on the tower wall. Like a small, gray spider on a web, he rose.

Fafhrd glanced skyward. Icy stars flickered in the black heavens. Only the barest trace of the sun remained.