The Pulsifer Saga Third Deluxe Illustrated Edition Preview

The Pulsifer Saga
Third Deluxe Illustrated Edition Wm. Michael Mott
Grave Distractions PuBlications Nashville, TN
The Pulsifer Saga

Third Deluxe Illustrated Edition
Excerpt
Grave Distractions Publications Nashville, Tennessee www.gravedistractions.com 2011 Wm. Michael Mott This and all previous editions are copyright 2000-2011, by Wm. Michael Mott Writing and images herein are copyrighted by the author, unless otherwise noted and credited. This is the only authorized third edition of this book. All worldwide rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the express written permission from the publisher or author. Author takes full responsibility for all the content held within this text. Cataloging-In-Publication Data Mott, Wm. Michael The Pulsifer Saga Third Deluxe Illustrated Edition ISBN: 978-0-9855991-0-2 1. Fiction 2. Fantasy 3. Sword and Sorcery 4.Satire Cover Art: Wm. Michael Mott Internal Layout: Brian Kannard, Grave Distractions Publications Electronic versions of this text are available with full color illustrations. For more information visit: http://www.gravedistractions.com/pulsifer.php Printed in the USA
Part One A Stroll in the Wilderness

Chapter 1 The Hospitality of the Hermit
Pulsifer Saga Page 1
The sky was a low grey ceiling stretched above the frozen earththe moon, a blue orb striped with sickly white, was setting in the west. Dawn would soon arrive, but the horribly frigid temperature would scarcely be abated even by the arrival of the sun, for this was the continent called Teumdoth, the land of the Final Winter. The nations of this frozen place welcomed each waking days chill, for the shivers of the morning meant that their peoples lived yet, rather than having turned to lifeless icons of ice while they slept. The man, heavily bundled in quilted travelers clothes, stumbled to a halt at the slick crest of a frost-encrusted hill. He balanced against the treacherous iciness with the sureness of long practice his kabeyui, a protective, head-enclosing mask and hood, exuded the steam of his exertions from mouth-slit and nostril-holes. The mask was caked with a beard of frozen breath-vapor. He glanced back in the direction from which hed come with an unmistakable attitude of fear, for he was being hunted, and had been for hours. For the thousandth time he wished in vain that he had a swift and sure-footed icepony beneath him. With thick-gloved hands, he rubbed his burning, agonized legs for several seconds. These were the northern marches of Kalsurridin, a land on the boundaries of civilizationto the north were the Columns of Kegresh, protective barrier against the unhuman hordes and terrors of the outlands, and named for the ancient archimage who had erected them. Beyond those pillars were the Hills of Matascori, the last lands of humanity in the northwest of Teumdothbut there were many hazards to the south of the columns, as the winded runner could attest. His name was Calim Pulsifer, but to most who actually knew or had heard of him he was known as simply Pulsiferand also as thief, scoundrel, villain, and similar epithets. At one point in his history he had been called the Velvet Knife by those who admired both his roguishness, and his stylish taste for fine clothing. A thief by nature and occupation, he hailed from the domed twin cities of Imonber and Oriaber, some fifteen-hundred miles to the east in the land of Phontyque, a nation foremost both in cultural development and in the jaded apathies of its citizens. Unfortunately for his career as well as his fashionable pursuits, three years earlier hed been compelled by virulent enemies to quit those localities in a most humiliating and memorable fashion, in order to save his neck. Now, as often occurred, he was attempting to do so yet again. Hed taken a caravan from the city of Mysurl, bound for trading-points north of the great lake Syragen, having signed on as a guard of the harem of a wealthy merchant. His chestnut locks, curled moustaches, and narrowfaced good looks had delighted his wards, but not their husband. Pulsifer was given a choiceemasculation, followed eventually by decapitation, or he could part ways with the train of his erstwhile employer in the barren hills, at twilight. Either choice seemed a death sentence, but he had chosen the less immediately painful of the two. He had been afoot only a few minutes when, rounding a boulder, he came more or less face-to-face with three of the fierce denizens of the wastelands, the darklings called snow-devils by the humans they preyed upon freshly emerged from their burrows for the evenings hunt. The tall, spindly creatures had snorted in delight, an action preliminary to their habitual cacklingwhile theyd chortled, hed turned and fled. Hed led them a long and determined chase through the lengthy, frozen nightbut now he could not run much farther. Snow-devils were not swift, but they were untiring. Pulsifer drew his shortsword with a sigh of resignation. He would make his stand here, atop this hill, and perhaps the height advantage of the three things would be partially lessened. He saw them now, a quarter-mile behind, three rickety silhouettes against the sinking moon, vaguely man-like.
They occasionally bent double, trailing him by his man-smell, the scent of a warm-blooded thing. Suddenly the sound of distant, agitated hooting struck his cloth-encased earstheyd seen him with the preternatural vision of their saucer-eyes. He glanced about fatalistically as the paleness of dawn began to tinge the eastern skythe sun would rise too late to save him now. With the calmness that comes of knowing death is certain, he watched the long shadows flee across the hills before the approaching day. He looked northward. He drew a sharp breath in surprisehe had no idea hed come so far! Ahead stretched unmoving giants in still procession across the wastesthe Columns of Kegresh, between which no creature born of magic, night or cold might pass! Sheathing his sword, he plunged down the hill, fresh vigor filling his limbs. He hadnt run far before the cries of his pursuers rang outtheir quarry was in sight, and they shook their tentacled heads at the birthing day and roared with bestial joy. They would bring the man down and then bury him in a snow-bank, returning for him when the painful light of the day had passedthen they would gorge on his frozen flesh beneath the rising moon. The thought of this banquet at his expense lent yet more speed to Pulsifers heelshis long legs darted out like the necks of glacier-snakes, a likeness furthered by the wedge-shaped travel-boots he wore. He left a trail of fog behind him at the level of his head, and the snow-devils, scenting on this, loped even faster and yelped anew. This would be the deciding run. The day birthed clear and sharp, the world a reflection locked in crystal. Somewhere, a waking eppelero howled. Pulsifer knew that one stumble, one slip, would mean his end; he dared not break stride to look back, but he could hear the monsters splay feet in the rime, an incessant crunch of doom. He sped over the next rise with an adrenaline-driven speed And almost collided with another inhabitant of these wild lands. Lifting his feet, the run became a leap as he passed over the head of the creature, a still-awakening malderg, an ogre of the wasteland, venturing out for breakfast. It swiped at him with one monstrous hand, but missed, still in the act of squeezing its bulk out of its burrow beneath the dome-shaped hill. Pulsifer landed on his feet, glissaded, and the slide became a run again. He heard the sound of the breaking of frozen earth as the ton-heavy humanoid hastily pulled itself freeits morning meal had just flown past! Over the crest of the hill came the three snow-devils in a furious flurry of limbsthey backstepped rapidly at the sight of the emerging ogre, but to no avail. They slid into its wartcovered, furry backside with uncontrollable speed. Cries of outrage and the conflict of interests filled the air. Pulsifer did not pause for breath, but took full advantage of this altercation to rapidly make away. The malderg, a creature of the day, rarely encountered those of the night, but when it did, there was no respectful avoidance on its partblood and slime would flow. Earsplitting shrieks of pain and ire drove the man on, but his chase-wearied body began to flag. He yanked off his thick gloves lined with badden-fur, thrust them into a pocket, and with one hand unstrapped his kabeyui on one side, to let it hang flapping loosely with his stride. The stinging slap of freezing air on his features was painful in its abruptness, and invigorating. He pushed on. The terrain suddenly flattened out for a width of perhaps a mile, a zone leveled by ancient sorcery, in which rose megaliths of pale stone the barrier of Kegresh, which stretched for two thousand miles, east to west. The ground was patterned into millions of distinct sections, cracked by the extremes of weather and the shiftings of the frozen earthPulsifer leapt over the widest fissures, some three to four feet wide, which dropped away three feet or more.
Behind him he heard and felt the rumble heralding the approach of a pursuer. He cast a fearful look back toward the sound. The malderg, despite his vast bulk, was rapidly bearing down on the man. Perhaps twice Pulsifers height and four times his breadth, the monster resembled nothing so much as a gigantic and repulsive toddler, proportioned like a giant dwarf. The huge head split wide in an idiotic grin of rock-like snaggle-teethin one hairy hand the ogre grasped the remains of a snowdevil by its telescoping neck. Behind the behemoth, Pulsifer saw the other two, following the ogre with fresh respect, but reluctant to give up the prey they had hounded throughout the night. They split, each going wide and around to either side of the malderg. The wanderer from Phontyque gasped the names of gods he had conveniently forgotten until moments such as this. Ahead, unexpectedly soon, the columns loomed. The ogre now was close on Pulsifers track, and the man grimaced, certain that he was not going to make it. He hurdled a wide rift, his breath rasping and dry Leaping was not a strong talent for ogres of the wastelands. The monsters feet jammed up in the crack and he slammed face-first to the ground with earth-shaking impact. Pulsifer sped over the last remaining yards to the safety zone, within twelve feet of the nearest column. He collapsed, panting dryly, his back to the pitted stone. The malderg pushed himself to his feet with a moan of stunned pain. The crushed remains of the snow-devil he had been carrying, part of his morning fodder, were plastered against his boulderhard body. He shook his square, wide-featured head in a gesture of disoriented uncertainty, for hed hit the ground with the force of a bolt of lightning, his weight and speed behind him, his thick skull taking the brunt of the collision. Spotting Pulsifer, his little pig-eyes widened, and he growled. Here, somehow, was the source of his discomfort! With a roar of reckless rage he thundered toward the human, and Pulsifer, terrified, watched the creatures approach with fascination, too exhausted to move. The malderg loomed before him, arms lifted, fists thrice as large as a mans head, mouth agape There was a flash of sun-bright intensity, accompanied by a searing sizzle of energythen there came a thunderclap percussion. Pulsifer stared. The ogre lay dead or senseless, twenty feet away from his point of impact with the unseen barrier. Smoke rose from his massive body; nearby ice had melted. The scent of ozone and burning flesh hung heavy in the air. Pulsifer staggered erect. He unfastened his insulated hood and threw it back, letting the cold air caress his curly tresses, and taking slow, deliberate breaths as he regained his strength. A few hundred yards away were the other two snow-devils, standing together and twitching as if in discomfort. They extended their necks and stared at him for an instant, then, shaking their heads, they turned and loped off toward the hills, for the suns rays were almost directly upon them, and their stomachs were emptyundoubtedly they would hole up in the den of the ogre until nightfall. With hatred, Pulsifer hoped that the malderg would revive and go home. He stretched his rangy frame out in the snow-splotched dirt. A languid, sinister sense of comfort began to spread through his weary body, and he felt a desperate urge to sleep. The barren silence, the grey-white monotony of the landscape called out for him to rest, but he knew the danger of that. Many a traveler had dozed off between these ancient pillars, never to wake againclaimed by the cold, and the weakness of hunger. Some sleepers had awakened to find danger to either side of the columns, and were trapped in the protective line of pillars, ironically
turned prison, with a parsennoc to one side and a horde of wandering trolls from the northern steppes to the other. With a curse of discontent, he pulled his gloves on and strapped them tighthe had to find fuel for a fire, food, and something to serve as shelter. With more than a little apprehension, he stepped out of the protective line of the columns, on the northward sidehe was now in the wildlands. He had heard that some simple human beings made their home in the distant black line of hills He hitched his sword higher on his belt. He would have to be exceptionally carefulthis side of the barrier of Kegresh was generally regarded as the dangerous one. With another curse directed back in the direction from which he had come, he set off toward the north. He walked for hours over a plain covered with a thin layer of recent snowyellow and purplish fronds and patches of bannis-weed stuck through here and there. He periodically ripped these up and ate them, roots and all, for they were bitter, but sustaining. The hardy bannis grew anywhere with rugged determination, and had saved many a man and other natural creature from starvation. Pulsifer hated the stuff, but he ate it as he walked nevertheless. Ahead in the distance the small mountains called the Hills of Matascori stood stark against the sky, inhabited by wild things of nature and of night, and by savage humans. Pulsifer disliked dealing with barbarians, for they could be testy, at best, and often over-sensitive; but perhaps he might coerce an entourage into seeing him safely back to the nearest civilized city, Mysurl-on-River-Iteg. He had no choice but to risk it, for chances were slim that he would make the journey successfully without some sort of aid. Keeping an eye watchful for danger, he set out for the hills. He saw no other creature on his walk across the flatland; as the sun neared setting, he entered the rolling terrain of the Hills of Matascori. And before darkness fell, he sighted a tell-tale sign of comforta thin column of smoke, rising into the air. With an increased pace, he headed for itand none to soon, for he began to glimpse furtive shapes slinking about him in the gloom, and behind him, others following his course. A distinctive odor smote his nostrils, a reeking, fermented muskinessthe scent of a pride of jinmonanders, their hunger causing their bulbous neck-glands to heavily secrete. They would pace him for an hour or two before making an attack, for their inexplicable customs commanded this, and it was a ritual which would not be broken. If one of the pack were to act hastily, it would be devoured by its fellows, and they would ignore the man, unless of course the impatient one had already killed him. Pulsifer hurried on. Soon he saw a light, a pallid flickerafter half an hour of tortuous walking over a buckled landscape, he found the source. It was a tiny hut, built of heavy stones and well-mortared; a lantern hung beside the door, and smoke poured from the little chimney. There were no windows, only ventilation slits near the eaves. The scent of meaty broth filled the air, setting Pulsifers stomach to doing somersaults. Looking about, he saw that the jinmonanders were slowly closing in, their smooth, eyeless faces regarding him, the wattles and polyps about their necks pulsing. The females began to touch themselves in a suggestive mannerwithout further reflection, Pulsifer began to pound upon the door. A view-hole slid open at the level of Pulsifers chest, and a dark eye peered outfor a long moment it studied him, and he, it. Then the owner of the eye spoke in the humantongue, his voice slightly muffled. What do you want? It was gruff and preoccupied.
Pulsifer smiled. A place to sleep, perhaps beside your firea bowl of gruel, or suchlike. I am an honest traveler, and can work for my lodgings Put your eye to the hole, the voice commanded. What? Are you imbecilic? Put your eye to the hole! Pulsifer stooped and peered into the holea lens of glass slid before it, and a giant eye regarded him. After an instant it was jerked away. Go away. There was a note of finality in the mans tone. The eyehole slid shutPulsifer banged furiously upon the door, and the hole reopened. He could hear the stealthy approach of the jinmonanders behind himthe eye, seemingly for the first time, noticed them. Oh! Jinmonanders! Dont worry, sonantagonize the males, and youll go quickly. But if you are passive, the females will sport with you first There was a wheezing sound, which Pulsifer interpreted as laughter. He felt the blood mount to his face as he began to lose his temper. Why will you not let me in? Your irises are golden-huedthis is an obscure trait, and a degenerate one. Your pupils are slightly oblique, which denotes an innate craftiness; these are surrounded by a burst of scarlet color, which fragments the irises. All in all, it is a rather untrustworthy configurationbut feel free to build a fire in my yard, and if you are still there in the morning, I will feed you. The eyehole slid shut once again; Pulsifer pounded and screamed, but no more would the dweller within answer his call. I am a victim of my heredity! You cant condemn me for my appearance and manner as you might these eyeless ones, who are fast upon me! Again he beat upon the door; to his surprise, the voice within answered his complaint. I discriminate against no one! All are welcome to share my yard, but none are welcomed within these walls! The Equilibrium of my personal interactions is maintained! I have said enough, and now I say goodnight! Pulsifer wheeled away from the door, drawing his sworda jinmonander, male and heavilytaloned, was creeping up on him. He slashed at it and it backed away, hissing. The ultra-frigid air of the night was already making its presence knownhis eyes felt as though they were being pricked with pins, and his face was beyond pain, with a numbness which was a warning. Quickly, he strapped on his kabeyui, watching the shuffling forms of the jinmonanders. Now they closed in with sincere purposefulness, and Pulsifer waited for the attack, knowing that he was weakened by his recent exertions and sleeplessness, and would be able to not fight long. Soon it came one male and two females rushed forward to grasp and hold him, and he countered with desperate, fierce slashes. Pieces of grey flesh flew in the sickly light of the dirty doorlamp, and the creatures, squealing in pain, fell back. Sheathing his sword, Pulsifer took advantage of the respite. Grasping the lamp-hook, he swung his lanky form upward, throwing one leg over the edge of the rooftop, then pulling himself over. He lay on his belly for several moments, panting, the bitterly cold air rasping into the mouth-slit of his mask. He peered with anxiety over the edge, expecting the jinmonanders to attack with their full force. He grunted in surprise. The mutations milled about aimlesslylacking eyes, they perceived the
world by means of protuberances at the bases of throats and clustered among genitalia. These organs read their surroundings by virtue of scent, and, rumor had it, an unknown sense. This sense could not detect anything above the level of their headsup, for them, did not exist, and Pulsifer had effectively vanished. He laughed as he recalled this travelers information, and the heads of the jinmonanders snapped about at the sound, but none turned their eyeless faces upward. Pulsifer crawled to the tiny chimney, huddling against the stones for warmth; if he remained on this rooftop, he would freeze to death in a few hours. Beneath his mask, his warming lips began to bleed. For an hour he sat in a shivering lump, arms about his knees; his thickquilted clothing began to stiffen as frost grew on him. If he sat here much longer, he would surely die, and not necessarily from the cold, for there were things which coursed the upper air by night in quest of prey. Aromas of food and the clattering of dishes came up the chimney and to his nose and ears, and he cursed the heartless man within the building. He also muttered curses against the fate which had led him here, instead of back to Phontyque, where he would have had a fitting vengeance upon his enemies! The memory of his degrading exile burning in his mind, he eventually dozed off. He snapped awake suddenly, after only a few minutes. He had been awakened by a scraping sound. He crouched alertly, sword drawnthen he heard it again. He squinted into the darkness. A light appeared at the other end of the sloping rooftop, a glow from within as a small hatch was thrown backa plump something was thrust out upon the roof, and the hatch slammed shut. Pulsifer crawled toward the objectit squawked, and flew into his kabeyui with a beating of pale plumage. He batted it away with both hands, and watched it attempt to take ungainly flight. It was a doconder, a flighted messenger bird with a range of a thousand miles. Vials containing documents or small valuables were strapped to its legs. Pulsifer scrambled and took it by the neck, quickly snapping its spine. The document vials he secreted in one of his many pouches. Without pausing to pluck the carcass, he removed his mask and fell to devouring the warm flesh. New vigor began to burn in him almost instantly. He finished his repast quickly, somewhat satisfied but still hungry. He turned his attention to the small hatch through which the doconder had been thrust. He examined it closelythere was neither lock nor handle on the outer surface. Quickly he rummaged through another of his numerous pouches; with specialized tools he went to work, his fingers deft despite gloves and cold. The hatch was tightly held, and not only with a bolt, for it repelled his attempts at breakage with the stubbornness of an enchantment. Pulsifer muttered a complex opening spell, an obscure one hed memorized from the scrawlings on the wall of a tomb hed once plunderedwith a shudder, the bolt acquiesced, and he drew the small door open without a sound, smilingthe imp-thieves called yelshin could have done no better! He peered into the opening cautiously. The dweller of the hut was obviously a capable mage, to survive alone in this wilderness. The interior was dimly lit; Pulsifer lowered himself into the portal with the silence of experience, quickly closing the hatch behind himself and re-bolting it. Pleasant warmth entered his aching form; he replaced the mask over his rakish features nevertheless, and examined the tiny attic in which he crouched. Five cages contained doconders, which eyed him sleepily; one cage was empty, its tenant now incarcerated in his stomach. The light entered from below, through a ladder-way leading downward; Pulsifer warily gazed into the room. There was a small fireplace, filled with burning brush and twigs; peculiar objects, piles of scrolls and books lay about in profusion, but the room was unoccupied. The door was
situated across the room from the fireplace; to one side of the entrance, a strange contrivance of tubing, wire and glass hung on the wall, presumably the device with which the huts owner had examined his eye-structure. To the other side of the door, many stylized masks, some obviously the rune-marked masks of a sorcerer, were hanging from pegs. To the right was another room, dark within; noiselessly Pulsifer swung down the ladder, to flatten himself against one wall. There was no sound from the other room. He sidled to the doorway. From within he heard now a contented snoring. He found a piece of rope among the bits of debris on the floor and, silent as a ghost, he crept within, his heart hard with vengeance. The man lay upon a simple pallet. He was small, almost gnomish, his puckered features crowded upon a stubbled puppets head. His skull was tufted with patches of greying russet hair, and he grasped his ears with stubby fingers as he slept, as if he had been attempting to block out the sounds of Pulsifers demise before hed fallen asleep. He wore simple clothes, austere and dyeless, thick slippers on his feet. A flask at his side gave him awayPulsifer sniffed the mouth of it. It contained the narcotic beverage called brunfidd, of which it seemed the fellow had swilled a good amount. Pulsifer smiled. The sleeper would be senseless for at least an hour. Picking up the flask, he took a mouthful of the drinka little of the stuff strengthened the senses and heightened awareness, but too much was stupefying. He stoppered the flask and thrust it into a carryloop at his belt, for future consumption; then he went to work. Trussing the little man up tightly, he carried him into the other room, propping him against the wall by the door. As an afterthought he gagged the fellow with a soiled cloth, sour of odor, which he found near the latrine, so as to disable any spellworking of which the man might be capable. Then he raided the larder, located in shelves to either side of the fireplace, having a long and satisfying feast. He filled the large cloth carrying compartment in the back of his versatile travelers overcoat, until it bulged. While he was thusly occupied, the man came toPulsifer removed his heavy outergarments and lounged by the fire, smiling amiably. The small mans face went through a wondrous range of expression, including various nuances of the emotions of surprise, fear, anger, and indignation. Pulsifer sat watching in rapt fascination never had he seen features so malleable to the exertions of the mind! Eventually he tired of the squirmings, howeverthe mans movements were harmless and repetitive. Pulsifer roused himself and sauntered over to a cabinet, looking over its contents. The little man grew still; Pulsifer looked at him inquiringly. Something valuable in here, eh? He studied the fellows sullen features. Perhaps something dangerouslet us see. He drew aside a cloth that hid the lower shelf from viewthe shelf was crammed with vials and canisters, spices and minerals mundane and exotic, the working materials of a warlock of true ability. Pulsifer read the labels carefullymanemem, garlic, raspac, weltersnau. His eyes settled on a tiny glass bubble with a cork in itit was labeled terlumin. Grinning, he took it from the rack. He drew his knife and approached the man, who, certain that he was about to be murdered, set about writhing anew. Pulsifer cuffed him on the head with his knife-hilt and jerked away the gag. Utter not a spell or cantripthis blade will slit your throat with more speed than a swooping fottermee!
Who are you? the man sputtered, his raspy voice setting Pulsifers teeth on edge. How did you enter my home? It is protected by magic from forced entryit is impregnable! Were you sent by a rival to steal, or to murder meor do you work for the ochdeviants? I am not in the employ of any wizard, Pulsifer snorted. I am a burglar, you fool, and if I had been your guest, I would even now be your friend! As it is, I intend to rob you, as a lesson in charitableness! As for my namewell, I am not a fool. He refrained from divulging his identity with good reason, for even if the spell-weaver were dead, a wizards curse could reach out and entangle one from beyond the grave. What else do you intend, then, my nameless coistrel? The old man scowled, almost pouting. Pulsifer shrugged. You will see; first, however, you must taste. Setting his knife down, he reached out and pinched the mans nosehis mouth flew open, and Pulsifer dashed the contents of the vial marked terlumin down his throat. The man gagged, but did not regurgitate; he hacked and coughed in an effort to do so, however. Pulsifer put his knife to the hermits throat. Is something lodged in your throat? Perhaps I might remove it for you. I have recuperated, thank youmight I ask what substance youve catapulted down my esophagus? It was but a small dose of terlumin, which, as you know, is a drug that compels whoever ingests it to tell nothing but the truth. I have been interrogated through its use in the past, myselfnow, to business! Terlumin! The little man writhed with rage. That was enough terlumin for fifty men! Do you have any idea what you have wasted, you idiot? For eight nights, in sleep I wrestled with a djinni of Penderothan eighth-level Blue of the First Order! Have you ever seen a blue devil, young man? I cant truthfully say that I have, Pulsifer replied. Are they of a rare minority? Indeed they are! But I can show you one, if you wish! I will call one up for you Silence! Utter neither spells nor invocations! I weary of this conversationI will ask the questions! What are your name and nationality? I am Pog Trimmanax, originally of the city of Pacaras-Tem, in Phontyque, and a member of the Brotherhood of Mages! You toy with a person of consequence We are countrymen, thenbut that is meaningless, now. Where are your most valuable items concealed? Pog Trimmanax fought to keep his mouth closed, lip striving against lip, but he quickly failed. Beneath the hearth, fourth stone from the left. His face was filled with resentment. Pulsifer nodded in satisfaction. Are there any safeguards against scoundrels such as myself? And how might they be bypassed? The wizard shook violently in a fit of anger and with the effort to keep quiet, but he was compelled to answer. There is a nullifier, which transforms an intruder into a puddle of shapeless plasmabut if one cants the word manquora repeatedly, the spell is canceled. Pulsifer re-gagged the mage and searched the hearth, until he found the stoneuttering the protective cantrip, he opened it without an untoward occurrence. Within the shallow hole he found three objectsa colorless gem with the look of a diamond, clear as glass, in the center of which his eye caught a tiny fleck of dark color; an amulet on a chain, shaped as a gaunt human skull and forged of a metal he did not know; and an apple-sized ball of black obsidian which fit comfortably
in his palm. Removing the gag again from Pog Trimmanax, he demanded an explanation as to the nature of the trinkets. What is this worthless trash? These are your treasures? What are their properties? The little wizard wore an unsavory expression. The amulet is a protective device against prying earsan eavesdropper is stricken with a strenuous disorder of both bladder and bowels, and becomes preoccupied with more pressing matters. It is effective on a variety of beings, primarily vertebrates, but does not work well in crowds. The jewel encapsulates an imprisoned mamonlex, which I discovered sleeping beneath the glaciers of the Senemene in the north; it was contained through great difficulty, and reduced to one five-hundred-thousandth of its original size. It may be released only by being dropped into a hot brew of excessive saltiness, but beware! It will hold no gratitude for you, should you release ityou will feed its belly along with thousands of others, until it feels full enough to lay its eggs and go to sleep again. As for the black ball He paused with effort; it was evident that he could not stand the thought of relinquishing these three particular thaumaturgical items. The sphere is an escape-device, which had assisted me more than onceif one thrusts it to the ground with force, and commands Displace!, it will lower the surrounding ground for three feet around the caster to a distance of ten feet. Thrust it to one side of the hole, it digs ten feehorizontally, and so on. Call Return! and it returns to your hand. It can burrow through any substance. Now then, surely you can see that these objects are of value only to a man of learning such as myselfthey will just bring woe to a vagabond such as you! Grinning, Pulsifer pocketed the devices. Perhapseven so, I will take them. If harm befalls me through their use, you may consider it to be just retribution for any indignities to which I have submitted you. If not, then I will consider the objects to be my rightful recompense for your earlier rudeness. Rising, he slid aside the stopper over the eyehole in the doorhe peered out with one eye while attempting to watch Pog Trimmanax with the other. The jinmonanders were seated on the ground without, in unmoving postures; at least, the females remained. The males had departed, in quest of easier gamePulsifer pulled away from the door with a frown of disgust. He returned to his captive. Another thinghave you any devices or materials which are used in the extension and heightening of amorous activities? Where do you keep such? Pog Trimmanax moaned. You truly rob me of my most precious belongings! Yes, I have this thingthe vial marked spanlax, in the cabinet! Pulsifer nodded appreciatively. Finding the vial, he returned to the mages side. Nowwhere do the nearest people live, and what are their dispositions? To the north is a tribe of savages, nearly as low in cultural development as trolls. They are cruel, but straightforward. To the west are hairy cannibals, and nonhumans such as somomorphs even the jinmonanders avoid this region. To the south, as I am certain you are aware, is the civilized land of Kalsurridin. How far to the north do the barbarians live? Only two days marchbut it is a perilous stroll. Pulsifer patted him on the cheek. One more thing, and I shall question you no furtherare there any other properties to terlumin, other than compelling one to honesty? Pog Trimmanax struggled against his bonds until his eyes bulged like those of a frog, but he quickly fell against the wall in exhaustion, and nodded.
A man who ingests terlumin is coerced to obey one command, irrevocably, or at least for the duration of the drug in his system. I implore you Youve enough in you to last a month, Id wager. Very well. I suspected such to be the case, as in the legend of Laurtrum. I have a command for you, Pog Trimmanax. And I can do nothing more than obey itbut before you voice it, allow me to appeal to your sense of proportion! You have already done me great wrongs, and the Inner and Outer Equilibriums are becoming tremulous! Overload the scale of your soul-debt, and body-debt will be equivalently displaced! Remember that kindness and mercy are the grandest of human aspirations, after learning! Quite right, Pulsifer remarked. The kindnesses you have shown to me shall be fully repaid, and overpaidand all in the name of Equilibrium! Reaching forth, he yanked cruelly on a tuft of the mages hair, eliciting a cry of agonyquickly, Pulsifer stuck the vial of the aphrodisiac spanlax into the mans mouth, shaking him until he had swallowed the entire contents, enough to arouse a regiment. Then, holding the empty bottle in Trimmanax mouth to quell any attempts at magic, Pulsifer said: Pog Trimmanax, I, your captor, command youspeak not an incantation, invocation, tremulation or convolution! You will be in effect without the use of sorcery until the terlumin in you is spentin the meantime, you shall entertain your other guests! Already blood was mounting to Trimmanax shrivelled cheeks. Removing the bottle from the mans mouth with one hand, Pulsifer hustled him to the door with his other, opened it, and hurled him out in the dirt before the waiting jinmonandersscenting arousal, the females, about ten of them, fell upon his writhing form. Pulsifer slammed and bolted the door, and watched through the viewhole for some time; if the effects of the spanlax lasted until daylight, Pog Trimmanax might survive the ordeal. After awhile, Pulsifer became bored with the ungainly activities in the dust outside; he fell asleep by the fire, the cries and scufflings from without not intruding on his sleep at all. In the morning he roused himself early, and went through the house in a systematic search. He found a small toiletry set with silver handles on razors and tweezers, a little money, and one or two baubles for trading purposes. Cooking a hearty breakfast, he stuffed himself, and crammed every inner and outer pouch and pocket in his clothing with foodbundling up, he stepped out into the yard, closing the door behind him. The jinmonanders were gone; daylight at first confused, then soon killed them. Pog Trimmanax lay in the dirt, unmovingPulsifer nudged his frost-coated form with his foot, and the mans eyes flew openhe smiled idiotically, giggling. Shrugging once, Pulsifer set off toward the north.
Chapter 2 The Rengebei
Calim Pulsifer strode through the dusk, searching with growing desperation for a place to pass the night. The cabin of Pog Trimmanax was now far behind him, and the territory of the barbarians was at least a days walk away. He shivered in the cold, his breath a white rag in front of him; rubbing his gloved hands together, he exclaimed aloud in happiness when he found the black maw of a cave beneath an outcropping boulder. Twisted sloggoaks and tusket-shrubs grew nearby, providing wood for the building of a fire. Night fell with freezing suddenness. The weary Pulsifer broke gnarled branches and carried them a good way into the cave, and soon he had flames jumping and snapping. He built the fire so that a large amount of flame danced toward the entrance, to block him from intruders; to his back, the passageway continued on, down into silent blackness. He checked this tunnel carefully, but saw no sign of passage by any creature; besides, most of the nightwalkers would be already out, with the sinking of the sun behind the highest hills. He had only to worry about the return at dawn of a possible tenant of this hole, and he had plenty of firewood to last until then, to feed his protector, the fire. A cool wind blew out of the depths behind him, taking the smoke with it. Sighing, he reclined on the hard stone floor of the cave, his quilted clothing serving as cushion, his every bone aching. The cave quickly grew warmer, and he took off the head-warming inner coif which he wore beneath his kabeyui, as well as his travel-clothes, and lounged in his thinner, gold-embroidered house-clothes. He rubbed his bruised shoulder, where a redbanded fottermee had nearly carried him into the skies during the afternoon. Hed narrowly escaped a spattered death, for it was the method of the fottermee to drop its prey upon rocks or ice, and then leisurely devour the victims remains. Luckily, his leather shoulder patches had been well-oiled, and the fottermee lost its grip before it got any higher than ten feet. Pulsifer had fled into a copse of briarwood and brambles; after a few attempts at entering the bushes, the creature had departed. Now he made a dinner of dried lobwort and grey licorice, washing it down with a swallow of tastaca, a sweet liquor he had purloined from Pog Trimmanax supplies. The flask of brunfidd he had refilled, and now it hung at his belt; he had only taken a drink from it after his encounter with the fottermee, to clear his mind. Finishing his frugal meal, he sat studying the three objects he had taken from the wizardputting his eye near the stone, he examined the six-armed mamonlex trapped within. Setting the stone in the fork of a twig, he held it in the heart of the fire, retrieving it only when the wood blazedstudying it carefully, he noted that the figure of the mamonlex had not changed position, but had gone from its customary slate-blue color to an angry red hue. He let the stone
cool, then returned it to one of his pouches; he then set about examining the skull-shaped amulet about his neck, but soon became bored. Putting more wood on the fire, he lay back with his clothing for a pillow, and was soon asleep. Through the weary blackness in his mind there cut a gleam of substance, which quickly grew into a dream of the frosty hills of Phontyque, from which he was outlawedhe dreamt of green-stoned Pegres, by the River Peldrain, of the towers of Oriaber and Imonber, encased within heated, quarter -mile-high domes of transparent and opaque materials. He wandered through the gaudy bazaars, where maskless women of the lower castes danced for coins, and scholars, merchants, soldiers and rogues walked shoulder-to-shoulder with peoples from every land of humanity. Striding at his leisure, he passed through the great greenhouse-complexes, created and nurtured by the Collectors of Knowledge, where the flora of ancient Teumdoth still flourished, saved from the killing chill of the past ten thousand yearsthe cold which increased yearly. The twin cities were his demesne, and of all the rascals of Oriaber-Imonber, his name was the most infamous and renowned. He loved those cities as a dog loves the butcher who throws it scraps of meatPulsifer awoke with a curse. He had slept longer than he had intended, for the fire had burned perilously low and thick black shadows filled the cave. With quickness born of fear, he fueled the flames again, rubbing his hands togethersoon the fire was blazing, and he sat fuming over his dream. It drove home the indignity of his exile with brutal effectHe would return to Phontyque, and have vengeance upon his enemies! Particularly he thought of the sallow-faced fanatic Megwurl Lunt, Overlord of the recent philosophical faction which called itself the Coalition of Equiponderous Lifestylersupon Lunt and his followers, Pulsifer longed for revenge! The memory of his humiliating and painful ejection from Phontyquen society brought a red mist of rage to his sightin Mysurl, a week ago, he heard children calling one another by his own name, in a derisive and insulting manner! He had kicked all three of them soundly He was too perturbed to sleep. Recalling the documents he had taken from the doconder, he rummaged through his things, found the vials, and opened them. The first contained a letter:
Pulsifer opened his eyes wide in surprise. With eager fingers, he opened the other vial. Within was a certificate, hand-written on the pale, durable skin of a jret, and stamped in gold with the seal of the Brotherhood of Mages, the most powerful social organization in the world. Pulsifer whistled between his teeth. It read:
Pulsifer could not believe his good fortune; he read the letter again and again, and the certificate. He was thusly preoccupied when a soft sound caught his attentionhe looked up suddenly, to find a tall, dark figure standing across the fire from him. With a curse he fumbled for his sword, but the visitor made no threatening movements, and the blaze was between them. Nevertheless, Pulsifer threw another branch on the fireit flamed up even more, and the figure took a step back, a fear of fire confirming its unnatural essence. Pulsifer sneered, disguising his terror with a mask of arrogance. Welcome, Skulker, he said. Join me by the firewarm yourself! Or at least come closer, so that I might see your face; the rudeness of your anonymity is bothersome. Without a word, the figure stepped closer; firelight illumined both its face and form. Pulsifer felt a lump rising in his throatthe thing was a parsennoc, one of the fiercest of the dwellers of the wasteplaces, created long ago by the sorceries of a mighty wizard-geneticist, a madman who had harbored
a hatred of his fellow human beings. Many of the man-eating, night-roaming denizens of the continent Teumdoth had been this sorcerers creationshis name was forgotten by all but other wizards, but the descendants of his mutations lived onand of them all, the parsennoc was perhaps the deadliest, for not only was it physically formidable, but it was also possessed of a devious cunning, and a twisted sense of humor. It was the most unpredictable of creatures, after man; but it was said that it could be placed under an obligation of servitude, according to specific and nonsorcerous means known only to mages. Pulsifer suddenly wished that he had acquired that knowledge, while questioning Pog Trimmanax the night before. It stood well over a head higher than Pulsifer himself, who was taller than average. In a fashion typical of its kind, the parsennoc wore many layers of thick clothing over its long, thin frame; above its sallow features and double-pupiled eyes there rested a tall, brimless hat of stiffened felt. The only parts of its body which were exposed to view were its hairless face and long, seven-fingered hands. With a quick crooked smile it nodded in greeting, and squatted on its lengthy haunches across from the man, well back from the fire. Hello, man. Its voice was incredibly deep. You are blocking the entrance to my homeyou are a trespasser on my doorstep. Rake your fire aside, so that I might squeeze by And fall upon me for your evening meal? I know that you were drawn here by the smoke of my fire! I warn youI am a magician of great renown! My name is Morskured Montath! He fumbled for the certificate, and held it up to be viewed by the creature. Here are my credentials, signed by no lesser personages than Ongliath the Red, and Porvul Shuk! Now begone, or I will be forced to render an uncomfortable condition upon you! I hesitate to cast doubt upon your word, the parsennoc retorted with a facetious politeness, but I see only a piece of paper, and a man with more the look of the scoundrel about him than the appearance of a Man of Power. Let us end this charade, now; I will kill you quickly and almost painlessly, sparing you the tedious anticipation of your own demisethen I will satisfy the hunger burning within my own belly. Let us converse first, Pulsifer hastened to interject. It has been long since last I spoke with one of your breed. You do not mind? The parsennoc shrugged. I have all night, and longerI am out of the range of the sun. I can wait until the world freezes into a motionless lump and, I admit, I do enjoy conversation. Pulsifer slapped his hand on his knee. Good! Perhaps a sampling of my abilities will stimulate your appreciationdo you have a coin? Never mindI have one here, somewhere. He produced a golden rinket and did various jesters tricks, making the coin seemingly disappear, to return in another motion from a different locationbut the creature seemed unimpressed by this sleight-ofhand. Pulsifer held up the coin again snapping his fingers, it vanished. He grinned at the parsennoc. You see my power? Matter is my plaything! Would you care to guess to what distant dimension I have transported the coin? I believe it is in your sleeve, the parsennoc replied. My eyes are sharpbut perhaps you would care to see a trick of mine! Behold! With a popping sound, the thing unhinged its bottom jawits mouth expanded like a sack catching the wind. Triple rows of teeth were revealed, as well as the toothed palate and tonguePulsifer began to sweat. Quite impressive, Pulsifer offered, putting another branch on the fire. But I can do you one betterexcuse me just one moment. He turned to where his own shadow leaned eerily against the
wall beside him, and began whispering. The parsennoc watched in astonishment; Pulsifer began shaking his head and raising his voice slightly, as if in disagreement. This continued for many minutes. What are you doing? the thing finally demanded. It was curious by nature, and suspicious of all unusual activities. Am I to dine upon a madman? One moment, please! Pulsifer raked the creature with a scathing look of contempt. Can not those sharp eyes of yours see? I am conversing with my shadow! So it would seem. Tell me, does it reply? It laughed lowly. The term converse does imply the participation of more than one party, does it not? Dont be a dunceIll have a good trick for you in a just one minute; I need but to coax it from my familiar Your shadow! The parsennoc shook its oblong head. Enough of this stupiditysurrender yourself to me! You waste my valuable time! Be silent! Pulsifer wheeled violently toward the darkling, and it jumped slightly. Your rudeness expresses to me your barbaric and inferior natureyour interruptions make things more difficult! In just one second, my shadow is going to impart to me a Word of Power! The parsennoc was interested, despite its scoffingit leaned forward to listen, as Pulsifer turned once more to the rock wall and began speaking lowly. The desired effect camePulsifer felt the amulet about his neck vibrate rapidly. There came a low cry of dismay from the other side of the fire, as the long frame of the parsennoc was shaken by a violent spasm. A sickening scent filled the air. There is your trick! Pulsifer leapt to his feet. The parsennocs eyes flew wide as another spasm shook its dark-clad form, and it fell back against the wall of the cave. Pulsifer laughed. Avaunt, foul beastbefouled beast! If I meet you again, you will die of this disorder! Spread the word among the other darklings hereabouts, that a mighty wizard is traveling through, and he brooks insolence from no one! He grasped his swordhilt for emphasisthe amulet about his neck vibrated again, and the parsennoc groaned in agonyit scrambled to its feet and fled bent-double up the passageway, its departure punctuated by an attack of uncontrollable flatulence. Pulsifer wiped the sweat from his browhis own bladder was feeling shaky, now. But he was certain that the creature would not be back. Suddenly he remembered the escape-devicebut if he had fled into the night, the parsennoc or another darkling would have had him. It would be a long nightsighing, he decided to cat-nap until dawn, but he slept with his sword in his hand. He was out with the dawn, which tinged the world with yellow. The dangers of the night were already in hiding from the day, but there were many baneful creatures which could tolerate the suns rays. Pulsifer began walking with verve toward the north, between rampart-like cliffs of granite. There were no major events during the day; twice he ducked behind boulders and rubble to avoid the attention of a fottermee, and once he nearly stumbled into a pithe did not clearly see what waited at the bottom, but something huge and glistening shifted wetly, and the sound of iceslush moving against rock was clearly heard. He spat into the hole and hurried on. Late in the afternoon, he wandered down into a narrow valley, dotted with huts and low-built halls of stone, thatch, and brush. Blonde-haired tribesmen wrapped in furs, wearing primitive medallions of beaten tin and copper and brandishing spears, knives and swords of bronze, rushed to meet him. In the manner of barbarians, they wore no masks. Thinking quickly, he produced the black sphere and hurled it into a nearby tumulus, commanding it to digit created a tunnel ten feet
deep, whereupon he called for it to return. It landed unerringly in his outspread palm, and the savages fell to their knees, voices raised in aweby chance, the westering sun sent a last lambent ray into the hole Pulsifer had created, and a brace of tambens, their hiding place uncovered, raced out into the daylight, screeching in agony yet drawn irresistibly to the sun. Quickly the tribesmen leapt to their feet and put the pasty-fleshed tambens to deathglancing into the hole, Pulsifer thought to see another of the creatures, safely back in the shadows, watching him. It backed into the darkness and was gone. Pulsifer turned to the elated tribesmen, and unfastening his kabeyui, smiled in a friendly way. As it turned out, the dead darklings were two-thirds of a trio of tambens that had been terrorizing the village under cover of their element, the night. Instantly Pulsifers status changed from that of a stranger and enemy to one of visiting dignitaryhe was feted by the savages, who called themselves the Rengebei. That very night, a feast was held in his honor, under his imposture as the wizard Morskured Montath, in the long central hall of stone and turf. For uncivilized folk, the Rengebei held a surprisingly enjoyable celebrationthe food was tasty, if simple, and the beer was strong and flavorful, brewed from the fermented grain and juices of the bannis-weed. Pulsifer joined heartily in the merry-making, his outland appearance delighting the ladies and young women alikethey chatted with him constantly in their degenerate dialect of the humantongue, laying hands upon him with increasing familiarity. They called upon him to work some magic, and he did some legerdemain with a flake of bonethe ladies clapped their hands and exclaimed with glee, and the men nodded their approval. After he had achieved a degree of tentative inebriation, Pulsifer was engaged in conversation by the ruling Matriarch of the Rengebei, a hugely fat woman named Grolonka. When he spoke of his need for companions to travel with him to Mysurl, she looked at him sharply. If you are a mighty wizard, why do you need an entourage of our warriors to accompany you? she asked. Realizing that she was shrewd, Pulsifer shrugged. Threats are manyand one must be awake in order to cast spells. I can not do without sleep, and magic often takes time to formulatebut the claws of a byrex are swift. I do not always have the necessary time for lengthy formulation. I held a period of divination before entering your valley, and thus discovered the den of the tambens; then I spent an hour preparing the spirits of my device to dig them out. In wizardry, nothing is spontaneous! It is an exact science, and the wildlands do not always allow for proper preparation. Twenty swords are better than one, even if the one is the enchanted blade of a sorcerer such as myself I seeall is explained, then. Satisfied, she began bewailing her peoples woesthe bannis grew scarce, game was leaving the area; two weeks earlier, a trio of ogres, a male and two females, had been sighted only a few miles north of the village, hunting, and black talycents had been seen at the edges of the valley at night. Pulsifer assured her with a semblance of utmost sincerity that a loan from the village of twenty-or-so warriors was a worthwhile investmentonce he was back in Mysurl, he swore, he would dedicate a week solely to erasing the worries of the Rengebei. Excellent! Grolonka exclaimed. She called out and a young woman appeared, bearing an earthen bowl.
To seal our bargain, the chieftainess said. We will join spittle for the fermenting of beer. Everyone shall spit in the bowl after yourselfthus will your offer be accepted by all! If either ever breaks faith in an agreement between us, may the taste of beer be ever bitter for that party! I agree to the utmost extent! Pulsifer stated. It is an honor to enter into a contract with the Rengebeiyours is a hospitable and admirable people! Grolonka nodded; she sidled up to Pulsifer and laid a plump hand upon his sleeve. You shall sleep in my house tonight, as an honored guestand if you grow cold, you may feel free to share the warmth of my furs. She shifted her gigantic backside on the benchPulsifer sighed diplomatically. I wish that I mightI am, however, under a vow of abstinence from carnality until the seventh month. I will dream of your kind offer, however. That is regrettableyou are a comely man. Ah, well; perhaps you will visit us again, after your vow is terminated Most assuredly, I will, he said. But to change the subjectwhen might I expect to depart for Mysurl? I would like to arrive before the Warmingmidyear is but a month or so away. Soon. I can spare the warriors in three days; most are family men, and will have business to set right before heading off. In the interim, please feel free to wander where you will within our villageyou are the guest of all, and you shall be treated as such. My thanks for your graciousness. Pulsifer was suddenly besieged again by the young women of the Rengebei, and, careful of Grolonkas attention, he treated the ladies kindly but with indifference. In less than an hour, the feast dwindled to a staggering end, with everyone, even the children, monstrously drunkPulsifer strode behind Grolonka to her longhouse, and was shown to a room below-ground, heavy with bedding materials. He soon fell into a deep and stony sleep. Several hours later, he was stricken with disturbing dreamsfirst Megwurl Lunt and the Coalition of Equiponderous Lifestylers drove him again, naked and stumbling, through the jeering streets of the twin cities. Then he was in darkness, with an invisible phantom kissing teasingly at his head and face, while he lay paralyzed, he somehow knew, from the bite of a tamben. Summoning all his strength, he tossed his head violently and awakened. He lay staring at a guttering lamp set in a niche across the room, sweating even in the chill. Motion caught his eye. The curtain covering the doorway billowed slightly. He lay unmoving as in his nightmare, trying to remember just where he had lain his sword during his drunken disrobement; then the curtain was pushed aside. Into the room crept three buxom girls, wrapped in furs. Pulsifer recognized them from earlier in the eveningthey were the daughters of Grolonka. Giggling, they came to him, and began fondling his curls and tweaking his moustaches in a familiar mannerhe did not resist their attentions. The night was cold, as always, and exercise would warm the furs; with a glance toward the doorway, he succumbed to their delights. The next day he joined Grolonka and her slow-witted husband Brifgan at the morning meal. Brifgan was a dour, battle-scarred man with a slight limp. The daughters blushed and smiled as they brought Pulsifer his porridge and lentils; the eldest, Tralain, bent further than necessary before him as she set down a platter of dark bread, and her breasts, beneath a taut leathern shirt, nearly brushed his face. Brifgan did not notice, enthralled as he was with his food. Grolonka raised a quizzical brow, but said nothing.
Pulsifer walked throughout the village during the day, sampling the hospitality of allwomen approached him, but he feigned disinterest, particularly when they did so in front of their husbands. Rather than being angered, the men behaved as though they would consider such a liaison and the possibility of a pregnancy an honor. One man even offered Pulsifer a handful of stream-polished stones, if he would in turn impregnate his wife. Pulsifer refused politely, as the woman was perhaps the only female in the village who resembled a shaven snowape. That night he was again visited by the daughters of Grolonka, and he spent a night in the furs, tumblingthe morning found him red-eyed and sluggish with want of sleep, nodding at the breakfast table. Grolonka appeared distinctly disturbed, but still said nothinghowever, her quick green eyes followed the forms of her daughters studiously as they hurried about the room, their own eyes sparkling. Eating very little, Pulsifer excused himself and went out for the day. The wind was up this morninghe bundled well in his travel-clothes and made a few circuits of the village. Soon he became aware of the fact that he was being followed. The fellow ducked for cover or became concerned with other matters whenever Pulsifer glanced his wayfinally he decided on a confrontation. Turning, he walked back in the mans directionthe barbarian affected not to notice Pulsifers approach, and turned to examine a rack of curing gazarel hides. Pulsifer strode directly up to the fellow and tapped him on the shoulder; the man turned pale. Removing his mask, Pulsifer smiled. Certain familiar spirits which follow me about have informed me that you seek to join their rankswould you care to elaborate on your reasons for pursuing such a perilous path? The man, a robust warrior with a mane of flaming red hair, was genuinely shaken. Your spirits must be mistaken, masterI do not follow you! By chance our paths have crossed many times, thats all! The village is small! Pulsifer reached into an inner pouch of his coat and took out the ball of black obsidian. The sphere tells me that you lie, and begs to grind your bones into powder. It is inhabited by a mighty djinniI do not know if I can restrain it! Perhaps you can quell its lust for your destruction by telling me the truthif not, wellthe frozen earth calls for hot blood. Wait, I beg you! Rein your murderous ball! I will tell you everything, but do not let Grolonka know that I have done so! He looked about uneasilyseeing that no one was nearby, he stepped closer to Pulsifer. Do not approach the boundaries of the villageif you do so, you will find men there, waiting for you. You will not be leaving us soonif Grolonka has her way, you will be here for many years! Pulsifer frowned. Why does Grolonka harbor this unwarranted attachment for me? The matriarch inspected her daughters this morning, after you had gone outshe found that their virginity was no longer intact. The girls would admit nothingGrolonka cast the seeing-bones, and the bones told her that you were the pilferer of her daughters charms. The bones also said that each of the three now carries your child. Grolonka sees that the goddesses have sent a mighty enchanter to her for a son-in-law. The strength of the tribe will be greatly increased by your permanent presence and potency; and her daughters will share one husband, less of a strain on the household of Grolonka than would be three sons-in-law. Does Grolonka think to contain me here by the simple force of numbers? I will transform all of your warriors into heaps of sand, to be blown willy-nilly to the farthermost corners of Teumdoth!
Grolonka does not believe you can do thisyou told her, yourself, what your weaknesses are. You must sleep sometime, and if you escape the village, the men will trail you until you sleep, bind you so that you neither move nor speak, and return you to the house of Grolonka. And you need great periods of time, undisturbed, to work any large-scale magicor so she says. She believes that if the men subdue you by force, you will be unable to destroy them all; for each man you killed, you would be amply punished by the tribe. But these are extreme eventualitiesGrolonka has another plan for your taming. Pulsifer knit his brows angrily. What is this plan? Tell me, quickly, or I release the sphere I will tell you! Patience, please! When you return to the house of the matriarch this afternoon, she shall offer you a bowl of chowderdo not partake of it! In your bowl will be mixed the dried excrement of the dertanbug, a soporific of great strength. When you recover, it will be too lateall of your belongings will have been removed from you, and you will be trussed with strong cords and prepared for your wedding, this very night. If this were to occurwell, I, myself, would pity you And why is this? Have you not wondered why the daughters of Grolonka are yet unwed? There are many available youths among the Rengebei! Among our people there is a customa custom involving the participation of the mother-in-law in the consummation of the marriages of her daughters, and fathers-in-law with their sons brides. Have you not noticed the limp of Brifgan? That is a reminder of his wedding night, given him by the hefty mother of Grolonka and her mother was not as ponderous as she. I see. My thanks for this information. Pulsifer fixed the man with a fearsome glare. Say nothing of your having enlightened me as to these mattersor I will smite you with a festering canker which will leave you noseless and lipless! Continue to follow me, as you have been doing. What of Grolonka? I will visit my vengeance upon Grolonka, never fear. Adjusting his mask over his features again, Pulsifer stalked rapidly away. The red-haired man followed at a distance, as before; the people of the village treated Pulsifer with their customary respect. With his hand on his swordhilt Pulsifer walked toward the south of the hamlet. As he neared the outskirts, twenty men materialized from behind rocks and snow banks. He walked toward them, they did not move aside; he continued his approach. Well-met, men of the Rengebei! He waved his hand amiably, glad that the warriors could not see the anxiety upon his hidden features. Their own maskless faces were guarded, and not a little uneasy. Do not stray too far, Sir Sorcererthese hills are dangerous even by day. The speaker was a burly warrior carrying many weaponsbut he did not openly threaten Pulsifer. Then perhaps some of you would care to escort me and guard my backIm searching for a specific variety of lichen for medicinal purposes, and would appreciate some guidance. The stuff is a purplish hue, splotched with crimson No such lichen grows hereabouts, the burly man replied. Return to the village, and I will journey to the south and look for the variety myself. Your thoughtfulness is appreciated, Pulsifer said. He turned and strode back into the crowded mass of huts and walls, his head beginning to hurt; he veered to the east, and soon reached the limits of the township of the Rengebei. Again, men appeared out of nowheredisgusted, Pulsifer returned to the village, not bothering to try the westward or northward boundaries.
He walked randomly about the settlement, considering the use of the black spherebut to escape the trackers of the Rengebei, he would have to stay beneath the ground for a great distance. Chances would be good that he would burst into the pitch-black lair of some darkling or other, and be killed, if he tried such a thinghe remembered that Grolonka had mentioned the mysterious darklings called talycents seen in the region, and he decided against using the sphere unless he had no other choice. Late in the afternoon he returned to the house of Grolonka; removing his kabeyui, he stepped within the warm interior. Brifgan was out, or at least he was not in sight; Grolonka sat the table, along with her daughters, Tralain, Widglin, and Braeca. The daughters appeared somewhat disheveled, and would not look at himGrolonkas face was unreadable. Pulsifer joined them at the table. Dismiss your daughters, Grolonkathere is a matter we must discuss. Surprised, the matriarch raised an eyebrow and motioned for the girls to leave the room. When they had gone, she nodded. What matter concerns you, guest of my house? You seem disturbed. I must admit that I am, Pulsifer returned, shaking his head. I am troubled by a matter of honor, I fear. He winced. I have a desire to break our contract. What do you mean? A look of confusion quickly crossed Grolonkas face, to be swiftly hidden. Explain, pleasea bargain is a bargain, after all! I thought that you would say as much, he continued, eyes downcast. But the simple truth is thisI do not wish to return to the south! Whither, then? All other directions are wild and hazardousbut let us eat first, and then discuss it. I have prepared a pot of grottinity chowder Hold your generosity, please; allow me to complete my confession. I do not wish to return to the southI do not wish to depart at all! I desire to remain here, in your village, for it is a location of most pleasant atmosphere, and, well I am compelled to tell you the truth! I have broken my vow of celibacy, and with your own daughters! And I feel so strongly for them that to leave them would destroy me! He hung his head on his chest. My shame is so great! I hope that you can forgive me, and accept me as son-in-law! Grolonka clapped her meaty hands in joy. Certainly, all is forgiven! I will be proud to have you as son-in-lawin truth, I was intending on begging you to remain with us, on my daughters behalf! Not much escapes a mothers eyes, after all. The wedding will take place this very nightOh, I have so many preparations to make! Pulsifer waved a hand. Wait, Lady Grolonka! Tonight augurs ill for a wedding-ceremony tomorrow would be much more propitious! I scented an air of bad luck blowing in from the north, not twenty minutes pastbut the clouds speak well of tomorrow! I will perform further divinations tonight, so that my wedding occurs at the best possible moment! Excellent! Grolonka cried. Then she looked at him suspiciously. You are familiar, of course, with our nuptial customs, and my own part in the events of the wedding-night Certainly, Pulsifer said with a smile. I have admired your staunch and full-bodied figure since I arrivedthe arrangement is agreeable to me! I look forward to tomorrow nightfour women of healthy appetites will be a pleasure to entertain! But I must admit I will be glad of tonight, to build my reserves of energy.
Very good, Sir Montath! The matriarch stood to her full and formidable height, squeezing her hands together in excitement. The layers of her enormous form quivered beneath her furs. I go now to make announcements and preparationsplease rest as you will, while I am out My thanks, Grolonka. Now that I feel somewhat unburdened by my confession, I begin to realize that I am indeed hungry! Is the chowder you mentioned still available for consumption? She shook her head, holding her hands up in dismay. There is a custom among the Rengebei, which I am certain you will find foolish, but humor us nevertheless, for we are a people steeped in traditions! It is considered unlucky for a prospective bridegroom to devour the greasy flesh of grottinities before his wedding, due to certain debilitations of anatomy which occur! Please consider it ill advised. I will prepare for you both goulash, and lentils. She turned and went into the cooking-room; Pulsifer sat fidgeting with his swordhilt. In half-anhour Grolonka reappeared, bearing a bowl of lentils and a platter of purplish, shivering stuff. She left Pulsifer with a promise to return quicklyhe contemplated his meal for an instant, then ate the lentils. He threw the goulash into the fire. In a few minutes Widglin, the youngest daughter of Grolonka, returnedseeing him she blushed and smiled, seated herself beside him, and threw her arms about his shoulders. He looked down into her vacuous eyes and shuddered. Its wonderful! she cried. Mother is out telling everyone that she is to have a powerful wizard for son-in-law! And he is man enough to honorably marry all three of her daughters For the first time, she noticed his tightlipped expression. Why Montath, what troubles you, beloved? He shook his head sadly. You have hit upon a tender nerve, dear WidglinI was even now thinking dishonorable thoughts as you spoke Widglin fixed him with an icy stare. What do you mean, Montath? Speak as you feel. Pulsifer grasped her hands, lowering his voice to a whisper. I mean that I love only you, Widglinnot your sisters! I will marry the three of you, but it burdens my heart to do so Tears welled to Widglins eyes. But why? We are each a daughter of the Matriarchso one of us will hold that title one day as well! Your place in the foremost house of the Rengebei is secure, and the three of us will treat you well. She nudged him suggestively. He cleared his throat. That is what I am speaking of, more than any other thing. You and your sisters are demandingbut I am only a mortal man, albeit an exceptional one. He put his arm about her waist. The energies I expend to satisfy your sisters I would prefer to use in pleasing you alone. Widglins brow wrinkled in contemplationthis had not occurred to her. Seizing the moment, he hastily continued: I would at least spend tomorrow night alone with you, if I couldbut it must look as though I am willing to lavish my affections upon all! What do you recommend, Montath? Im willing to go along with your suggestions on this matterbut we must be devious, for the wrath of my sisters and mother would be overbearing! If we could but slip a potion to your sisters and your mother, sometime before we retire for our consummationwell, they would sleep, and in the morning you and I would exclaim over the grand time enjoyed by all! Does the benefit of this strategy make itself known to you? Yes! Their embarrassment would be great, but they would never admit that they recalled nothingI know their vanities well! But I have no potions
Pulsifer frowned. Hm. This is a problem. Let me seethe excrement of the dertan-bug would do the trick, I thinkis there any amount of this substance in the village? Widglin nodded excitedly. Yes, mother has a large amountshe uses it to ease the pain of wounds, or inhales some small bit herself for relaxation. I could steal someHow much should I use? Use your own judgment, Pulsifer said. A little should do for each, I thinkbut here comes someone! Be gone, quickly, and say nothing of our plan to anyone! I will hold you long and tightly, tomorrow night! Widglin rose, nodding conspiratorially, and kissed him on the ear. She left the room just as her sister Tralain was coming in; in the space of a few minutes, Pulsifer held a similar conversation with the eldest sister. Grolonka and Braeca, the youngest daughter, entered soonTralain bundled up and went outdoors, and Pulsifer sat in cheerful company with Braeca and her mother. Grolonka went to supervise the transport of wedding-condiments to the Central Hall of the village, and Pulsifer swayed Braeca with the same plan he had presented to her sisters. She assented readily; of the three sisters, she was most energetic in matters of love. Pulsifer slept well that night, undisturbed by the lusting daughters of Grolonka. The wedding day arrived to find Pulsifer already awake and fully dressed, but for his outer layer of travel-clothes. Throughout the day he greeted wellwishers from every family of the Rengebei, accepting gifts and offerings of food and services. The smaller items of more than cursory interest, he pocketedhe winked at the daughters in a secretive and promising way as they passed by, busy with preparations, and each smiled at him furtively in return, before bustling away. Pulsifer kissed children and blessed people with mumbled words until his mouth was sore; in the late afternoon, everyone escorted him and his brides-to-be to the Central Hall, where the Matriarch Grolonka waited, to perform the marriage-ceremony herself. It was a brief ritual, with an exchange of ambiguous promises, a cutting of fingers and a mingling of blood, and a song by all assembled then Grolonka pronounced the four married, and the feast began. Pulsifer sat with his three wives about him, flanked by his inlaws. Each ofthe daughters of Grolonka and Brifgan wore a secret smile, in anticipation of enjoying the full attention of the bridegroom in an hour or so. Pulsifer ate well, building his strength; the Rengebei applauded this, assuming that he was preparing for an active night of venery. Pulsifer saw the red-haired informant looking at him with a troubled expression, so he ran a finger meaningfully over his own lips and nose. The man nodded agreeably in understanding. Finally the last oath-laden toast was called. Each of the daughters produced an earthen jug, offering the contents to their parents and to one anotherno one noticed that Pulsifer drank from a jug of his own. Great quantities were gulped in hastethen the household of Grolonka, including Pulsifer, rose and marched out into the early evening, across the dirt plaza and to the house of the matriarch. Pulsifer hastened to the room where the daughters had slept, now his wedding-chambers. He made a great show of being prepared for the consummation, and the fact that he could not wait. Grolonka and her daughters hurried within, pulling the curtains across the entrance; Brifgan went to his and Grolonkas chambers, muttering something about feeling sleepy. The four women undressed and began caressing himthey became more venturesome, and he did not stop them. Then, with a sigh, Braeca collapsed, unconscious, followed rapidly by her two sistersGrolonka, standing before the reclining Pulsifer, looked about in confusion, eyes wide. The
drug she had ingested finally conquered both her size and awarenessher eyes rolled back and she totteredlike a tree, she fell upon the form of a chagrined Pulsifer. Cursing and gasping, he managed to shove her quivering bulk off of himself, then, dressing speedily, he slipped out of the room. The house was silent. Going to the room which had been his on previous nights, he donned his travel-clothes. Then he gathered up his things and buckled on his scabbarded sword; after this he went to the pantry and filled his large back-pouch with foodstuffs. He moved toward the door of the house with haste; he did not know the effectiveness of the dung of the dertan-bug, nor how large a dosage each sister had used, but he wanted to be far-gone before the family of the matriarch awakened. Strapping on his kabeyui, he slipped out into the night, heading south, the rime crunching beneath his feet. The village shook with noise, all of it emanating from the revelers still at the feastnot a single person was in sight. But there would be sentrieshewould have to be careful. Soon the boundary of the village lay before him, as did a long walk to Mysurl. Still he saw no one, not even a sentry. The great blue-and-white moon rose above the black ramparts of the Hills of Matascori, illuminating the entire area in a sickly lightPulsifer froze. Catching his breath, he drew his sword. Before him stood five tall, eerie figures, a mangled, disemboweled Rengebei guardsman lifeless at their feet. The smell of blood and burst intestines filled the air. They were parsennocs, possibly attracted to the village by the noise of the human feasters, but wary of the tribesmens spears. Like one entity, they stepped toward Pulsifer with grim intent. He sprang back several feet. Hold! he cried. I am the wizard Morskured Montath! Only a few nights previous, in a cave several miles to the south, I smote one of your ilk with a debilitating disorder! Do not hinder me, or you shall likewise suffer from that same tremulous affliction! The parsennocs halted uneasily, looking with uncertainty at one another, and then back toward the south. One of them spoke. You are the Man of Power who disabled Gwyfenlug? You are a Force, thenwe will not molest you, although in truth we long to rip you to steaming bits. But behind us comes a vast swarm of tambens, before which we are fleeingthey seek vengeance upon a human sorcerer who destroyed two of their cousins in a most painful, and in their eyes, insulting manner. Their numbers are too great for even a mage such as yourself to vanquish. Pulsifer held his guarded stance, prepared to flee or fight. How far behind you are these monstrosities? An hour, or lessand we must pass through this human place, to reach the safety of the hills beyond. Since they swarm, they madly assault every creature they encounter. But we do not wish to die beneath the swords and spears of the men hereour dilemma is puzzling and unprecedented. Pulsifer glanced back at the village behind him. I myself will be passing to the north, I believecome into the village, but quietly! The people are preoccupied, and in the house with green gables, all are sleeping. It is known to me that tambens cant cross a threshold if it is demarcated with the proper magical symbolsfollow me, and I shall place you safely within this house. You must not, however, kill the people inside, for each is under a blighting curse of my casting which will be transferred to whomsoever takes their lives before the curse itself does. The tambens will not be able to touch you, as they eradicate the people of the village. This is unusually kind of you, the parsennoc said. Why do you do this for us?
I feel a responsibility for the discomfiture of your brother Gwyfenlug, and seek to restore interpersonal Equilibrium between us, so follow quicklybut tread too close upon my heels, and my magnanimity shall be canceled, and the tambens will have you! Pulsifer turned and led the five blood-smeared creatures through the streets of the village, keeping to the shadowsthey passed the Central Hall without being seen. The ruckus of the barbarians had in no wise diminished, and the building shook with the noise of their debauchery. The parsennocs gazed with wonder at the structure. Pulsifer halted before the house of Grolonka; he gestured for the darklings to stand still and wait. I will reinforce the sleeping-spell I have placed upon those within, he explained, and, opening the door, he disappeared into the house. Going to the nuptial-chamber, he poured a pot of beer upon the faces of the women, nudging their sprawling forms with his foot. They groaned and began to stir; he rapidly departed from the room, and returned to the front door. The parsennocs still stood outside, looking about themselves with unease. Pulsifer motioned them inside, and they quickly ducked their heads beneath the lintel and entered. Watching the things with caution, Pulsifer stepped outside and made some vague, hasty gestures in the air before the entrance. From within the house he thought to hear the grumble of a waking Grolonka; he addressed the tall silhouettes of the parsennocs. You are safe, now, from tamben attackall humans, caught unawares, shall doubtless perish. I go now to the north, to observe the massacre from the back of an airborne quainprel, and take notes on tamben behavior. The parsennocs said nothing; Pulsifer turned and walked rapidly away. Once out of sight, he ran to the Central Hall. A huge drunken warrior met Pulsifer at the doorthe fellows eyes widened in surprise. Whatare you fleeing the embrace of Grolonka? It seems she has not touched you yet, for you are spry Spread the alarum! Pulsifer cried. The house of the matriarch is invaded by parsennocs, and even now they devour my new family This statement was punctuated by a shriek of terror from the Matriarchs house, and the Rengebei warrior, sobering instantly, sprang inside the Hall, yelling at the top of his lungs. Pulsifer ran with all his strength toward the northern outskirts of the village, and two Rengebei sentries, surly for having missed the festivities, accosted him. Whither do you fly, wizard? To alert you, you foolsthe house of Grolonka is breached by parsennocs, and lives are at stake! Two hundred yards behind him, the entire populace of the village poured out of the Central Hall, streaming with one collective yell of outrage toward the house of their chieftainess. The two Rengebei leapt forward to join the frayPulsifer applied his heels to the ground and soon was outside the hamlet. He paused atop a high knoll to look back momentarily. The long, low building that was the home of Grolonka and her family was surrounded by a seething, swaying mass of humanity, all armed with swords, spears, knives, hoes and stavesthe cries of battle reached his ears, and even at this distance he could hear the geyser-hiss of an enraged parsennoc, and an ululating battle-cry which could only belong to Grolonka. He drew a sharp breaththe scene was one of complete chaos.
Suddenly, movement at the southern end of the village caught Pulsifers eye. He squinteda ragged line of pale things crept into the human town, followed by another line, and another tambens, perhaps two hundred or more of them. The diversion was more than sufficientthe tamben penchant for vengeance was well documented. Pulsifer fled with disregard for furtiveness into the night, the roar of the melee behind him a motivational force of great potencythe cliffs rang with the sound of it. He glanced at his only source of light, the moon, where it rested above the eastern cragslimned against it were three huge, rough-hewn shapes, staring with unmoving postures down at the village; three ogres, roused from their stony sleep by the uproar. They began to move along the ridge, toward the disturbance. Pulsifer crept beneath them with care, passing them by. Once clear, he set off at a full run, grimacing beneath his mask. It was a bad time indeed for the Rengebei. Soon it began to snow and sleet. He fled, stumbling through the storm, as heavy black clouds blotted out the moon, and the cries of the combatants behind him mingled with the shrieking of the wind. He ran in the only direction available to him, northwardaway from the lands of humanity, toward the Outer Steppes, cursing as he went.
About the Author

Wm. Michael Mott (Mike to his friends) is a widelypublished writer and artist who has five books and many magazine features in print. He's written about paranormal phenomena; comparative myth, religion and folklore; UFOs; cryptozoology; pulp, adventure, Sci-Fi and fantasy fiction; and art and education topics. He's been a featured guest on in excess of 30 national and internationally-syndicated radio programs, including Coast to Coast AM (3 times), and current he's one of the cohosts at Unraveling the Secrets, a weekly program at Paranormal Soup Radio (www.psn-radio.com). His personal web site is http://www.mottimorphic.com and he also has a Facebook fan page out there somewhere (linked from the web site). He can be reached through the web site, or at wmmott@mottimorphic.com. He loves his kids and really, really likes books on myriad topics, dogs, and edged weapons. In addition to illustration work and writing, he crafts hand-made shillelaghs and walking-sticks upon occasion.
Other books by Wm. Michael Mott

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Caverns, Cauldrons, and Concealed Creatures

Is the first book of its kind to examine the striking similarities between folklore, religious, mythic, "new age," fictional, and firsthand eyewitness and historical accounts of anomalous beings, entities, cryptids, hidden civilizations, and related anomalies. Drawing from scientific facts, folklore, comparative mythology and eyewitness/anecdotal sources, it is demonstrable that the structure of our planet, the history of our species, the underlying truths disguised as our myths, legends, folklore and " pop culture " imagery, are not quite what we have been led to believe.
This Tragic Earth:

The Art and World of Richard Shaver
Gives a unique, long-overdue look into the art and mind of Richard S. Shaver. Featuring a facsimile of an actual hand-made book proposal by Shaver, sent to Ray Palmer, this volume also contains literally hundreds of other, lost images taken from one-of-a-kind "rogfogo" or "rock books" by Shaver. These images, taken from photo exposures of slices of solid rock, contain eerie and inexplicable images of people, monsters, creatures, structures, and devicesimages which defy all rational explanation. Shaver claimed that these "books" were records left in crystal holography by an ancient race of beings who preceded man on this planet, or were contemporary with our ancestors.
Pulp Winds
The long-awaited collection of short fiction, verse, and Forteana by Wm. Michael Mott, has been unleashed for mass consumption! With introductions by Walter Bosley, Brad Steiger, and Gerald W. Page, these tales will take you from the antediluvian world to lost cities beneath the earth, onward to other planets around distant stars, and even to the Dark Ages, the Old West and the High Seas. New twists on mythos and madness are inter-meshed and presented in these yarns of terror and adventure! Profusely illustrated, and reminiscent of pulp fiction and verse of a bygone era, Pulp Winds is a literary adventure of a type scarcely seen today!

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The Pulsifer Saga

Third Deluxe Illustrated Edition Wm. Michael Mott

Grave Distractions PuBlications Nashville, TN

The Pulsifer Saga

Part One A Stroll in the Wilderness

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Chapter 2 The Rengebei

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About the Author

Other books by Wm. Michael Mott

Caverns, Cauldrons, and Concealed Creatures

This Tragic Earth:

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