When the Gods Slept

by Allan Cole

  Iraj shrugged. "No thanks needed," he said. "After all, we both know who the true hero of this night is." He started to exit, pulling the twins with him. Then he stopped. "Know this, Safar," he said. "From this day forward, all I have is yours."

  Safar grinned. "And all that is mine, and all that shall be mine," he said, "will be yours for the asking."

  Iraj grew quite solemn. "Do you mean that?"

  "I swear it," Safar answered.

  Iraj nodded. "Remember this night well, Safar," he said. "For someday I may come to ask an equal favor."

  "And you shall have it," Safar vowed.

  "No matter what it is?" Iraj asked, his eyes suddenly hard and probing.

  "Yes," Safar said. "No matter what. And if you should ever test me again, I will not fail you."

  And with that covenant he sealed his fate.

  * * *

  Chapter Seven

  Dreams Of Kings

  Sarn was wrong. King Manacia hadn’t lied. If the gods had still been watching they’d have been highly entertained by his error. Sarn’s final torment, when he believed himself undone by royal betrayal, was a heady-enough brew of misery to satisfy any god’s tastes.

  In truth, King Manacia waited many anxious months for news of the bandit chief’s return. As time dragged on the king became increasingly impatient, paying little attention to the business of state. He even ignored his harem and his wives and courtesans became fearful their master had wearied of them. To combat this they sought out the most beautiful and seductive demon maids to stir his lust. It was to no avail, for the king remained in his throne room until late every night wondering what had become of Sarn and drinking himself into a stupor.

  It was difficult for King Manacia to admit failure - a condition he’d rarely experienced in his long reign. From the beginning he’d worked patiently, gradually extending his borders until all but a few of the wildest regions had been subjugated. The others had been forced into alliances weighted so heavily on Manacia’s side it meant the same thing. Soon all would recognize him as supreme monarch of the demon lands. But this was not enough. The king wanted more.

  "It’s not as if I do these things for myself, Fari," the king liked to say to his Grand Wazier. "The future of all demonkind rests upon my shoulders."

  And Lord Fari, who never reminded the king he’d heard these words before, always answered, "I thank the gods each eventide, Majesty, they made your shoulders wide and strong enough to bear that holy burden."

  The Grand Wazier was a wise old demon of nearly two hundred feastings. Skillful flattery and ruthless intrigue had allowed him to keep his head through four bloody successions to the Zanzair throne.

  The king took heart from Fari’s reassuring display of fealty, greeting the oft-repeated praise as if it were freshly coined. Then he’d frown, as if overtaken by yet another bleak thought. And he’d sigh, saying, "Still, Fari, I’m sure there are some misguided ones in my kingdom who disagree. A few might even think me insane."

  He’d sigh again, stroking his long curved horn. And shake his mighty head in sorrow.

  "Only speak the names of these heretics, Majesty," was Fari’s routine answer, "and I shall have their lying tongues plucked from their mouths and their throats filled with hot sand."

  "If only they understood as well as you, my dear fiend," was the king’s formulaic response. "Peace and plenty will always be denied us so long as more than one king commands the demon lands. It’s only natural that there should be a single ruler for all."

  And Fari would agree, saying, "How else, O Great One, can we ever rid ourselves of chaos? Or end the years of war and banditry? One demon must rule. And that one, the dreamcatchers portend, is you, My Lord."

  "But that isn’t enough, Fari," the king would remind him. "The humans must recognize me as well. I must be King of Kings. Ruler of all Esmir."

  "I have dedicated the remainder of my humble life to that end, Majesty," Fari would answer. "Demon history has long been awaiting one such as you. What other fiend has had your wisdom? Your strength? Your benevolence? Your sorcerous power? The gods have gifted us with your august presence, Majesty. There’s no denying it. It’s as plain as the mighty horn on your royal brow."

  With that, Fari would knock his old head against the stone floor, then rise with some difficulty, gripping his great dragon bone cane and heaving himself up with much cracking of aging joints and tendons. Then he’d withdraw, his bone cane tap tap tapping against the stone, fainter, ever fainter, until he reached the distant doors to the vast throne room and disappeared beyond. He always left a contented king in his wake, a king with renewed vigor to dream his dreams and plot his plots.

  There had only been one King of Kings of Esmir - the human, Alisarrian. It was Manacia’s deeply held belief the time was ripe for another such historic occurrence. He was determined this time a demon would hold that scepter. There was no question that demon should be him. Manacia’s entire reign had been dedicated to that goal. Yet as the years passed he began to fear he wouldn’t be ready in time. That somewhere in the human lands another Alisarrian may have been bred. A conqueror with an army at his back who’d soon come knocking on his palace doors.

  One night, as he prowled his Necromancium wondering if the answer to his troubles was hidden in the blackest of magical arts, there came the tap tap tap of Lord Fari’s cane, the ghostly herald of the Grand Wazier’s approach. When he heard the tapping Manacia turned away from a large jar containing a human head floating in brine. As he looked up Fari came through the portal, the air shimmering like the surface of a vertical pool.

  "What news, Lord Fari?" the king asked with exaggerated cheer. "Has our wayward bandit finally returned?"

  Fari, whose mind was deeply engaged in another matter, jolted up, scaly jowls rolling in a wave of surprise. "What, Majesty?" he asked. Then, "Oh. You mean, Lord Sarn, Excellency. No, Majesty. There’s still no word. I’m here on another matter, Excellency. One that requires your urgent attention."

  But Manacia abruptly turned away, plunged into as foul a mood as he’d ever experienced. "I’ve reviewed it from every side, Fari," he said. "And I still don’t see where I went wrong."

  "Wrong, Majesty?" Fari said. "How can you think that? Give it more time. He’ll appear any day now, loaded with spoils, bearing the maps you sought and demanding an enormous reward in that swaggering manner of his." Fari snorted. "As if he were the only real fiend in the land."

  "It’s been nearly a year, Fari," Manacia said.

  "So long, Majesty? I hadn’t realized..."

  "I might as well face it," the king said. "I’ve wasted enough time and energy that could be put to a more positive use. Despite all our efforts, all our experiments and labors, the shield we built to protect Sarn from the curse wasn’t good enough. And somewhere in the Forbidden Desert, perhaps just out of sight, his bones and his fiends’ bones are bleaching in the sun."

  Fari thought, quite correctly, that perhaps the shield hadn’t failed at all. Some natural misfortune might have befallen the bandit chief. But he hadn’t lived so long by telling his monarchs what he truly thought. So when he saw which path the king was taking he quickly stepped in that direction.

  He made a mournful face. "I fear you are right, Excellency," he said. "The shield has failed. I’ll find out at once who is responsible for this appalling state of affairs and have them suitably tortured and put to death."

  The king bared his fangs in what was meant to be a kindly smile. "Spare them," he said. "I too share the blame. And you as well, my dear fiend."

  Fari gaped, revealing whiter and sharper teeth than he had a right to own at his advanced age. "Me, Majesty? What did I-" He wisely clipped that off. He rapped his bone cane and bowed. "My name should top that list of failures, Excellency," he said. "Tonight my wives will sing your praises when I tell them how you so generously spared this noble fool. Of course it was my fault! I take the whole blame, Majesty. A blame you should never dream of sharing."


  Manacia waved a claw, silencing him. "You know who this is, Fari?" he asked, pointing at the human head floating in the jar.

  The Grand Wazier stared at it. The human was a young adult. Possibly handsome once - by human standards. "No, Excellency, I don’t know him."

  "This is the first creature I used to test the shield." Manacia chuckled. "We tied a rope to his waist and used whips to drive him out into the Forbidden Desert. He’d taken not more than a dozen steps when he suddenly screamed, clutched his breast and fell to the ground. When we dragged him back he was dead, although there wasn’t a mark on him to hint of the cause. He was a healthy creature straight from the royal slave pens. Clean. Well fed. I examined him myself. There was no reason for his death, other than the curse."

  "I recall the incident, Majesty," Fari said, "but not the human."

  "How could you?" Manacia said. "There were so many. Demons as well. They were the worst kind of felons, of course."

  "Of course, Majesty."

  Manacia stared at the head, remembering the four years of experiments. He’d labored hard, delved into every nook and cranny of the magical sciences, casting spell after spell to create a shield strong enough to defy the ancient curse. The curse had been created hundreds of years before by a Treaty Council composed of both demon and human wizards. Its purpose was to permanently sever all contact between the two species, permanently ending the years of bloody strife and war-ravaged harvests that followed the fall of Alisarrian’s empire. It was believed by all the curse would be impossible for even the greatest sorcerer to render harmless.

  Manacia believed otherwise. He was not only a powerful wizard - stronger than any other in the demon lands - but he had a mind for such puzzles and had attacked the curse full force with all the sorcerous resources at his command. Hundreds had died in those experiments. Body after body was dragged back at the end of a rope. But Manacia had hope because each time the victims crept a little further into the desert. The last group made it so far the king’s archers had to fire arrows at them to force them to go deeper. Finally, all who were sent out returned unharmed. The shield appeared to work so well Manacia had to have the survivors killed so they couldn’t use his spell to escape across the desert.

  It was then he made his bargain with Sarn. The king had personally attended the bandit’s departure. He’d praised the thief greatly, cast a special spell of blessings and watched Sarn and his fiends thunder off into the desert for the human lands to seek Kyrania - the passage through the "Valley Of The Clouds" that the Oracle had spoken of. The passage that was the key to forging the two great human regions into a great kingdom.

  Manacia’s hopes had been high that day. He was already dreaming of the time when his armies could follow. He had visions of swift and easy victories over the humans. Once he had a dream of a grand court ceremony, with human ambassadors bowing before his throne, bearing treaties that declared him King Of Kings. Ruler of all Esmir.

  Manacia peered into the human’s dead eyes. He was certain it was the human side of the sorcerous equation that had foiled him. A side he somehow had not been able to penetrate. It was for this reason, not sentimentality, that Manacia had the head of his first victim displayed in his Necromancium. It was here in this vaulted chamber of watery light that his collection of black arts and books and materials were kept. There were jars and vials of the most evil liquids and powders and unguents. There were scrolls detailing horrid practices and spells. There were strange objects and idols with shapes so menacing they’d haunt the dreams of the most callous and uncaring demon.

  Manacia rapped his talons against the jar. The liquid stirred and the head bobbed about. "We’ll begin again, my friend," he said to the skull. "And once more you shall have the honor of being first."

  He turned to the Grand Wazier. "We’ll start in the morning," he said. "Have my wizards meet me here at first light. I’ll solve this riddle no matter how long it takes."

  "That’s the spirit, Majesty," Fari said. "Never admit defeat. Consider it an unpleasant setback, nothing more. I’ll send word to the royal wizards at once!"

  He turned as if to go, hesitated, then turned back, saying, "There’s still that other matter, Excellency. The matter that forced me to come here and disturb your thinking."

  The king’s mood had brightened now that he’d formed a course of action. He said, "Yes, yes. I’d almost forgotten. What is it?"

  "Many months ago, Majesty," Fari said, "not long after Sarn and his fiends left for the human lands, a strange event occurred which has only just come to my attention. A celestial disturbance, Majesty, that went unnoticed by our stargazers because Zanzair was heavily overcast that night. But a shepherd, far to the north where the skies were clear, reported seeing an immense shower of fiery particles. Other reports have trickled in since then, confirming the shepherd’s sighting. As near as we can determine the display was in the human lands, over the Gods’ Divide."

  Manacia shrugged. "What of it?" he said. "There’s nothing unusual about fiery particles falling out of the sky. Rarely do such occurrences have anything to do with our affairs. If it were a comet perhaps there’d be cause for concern. Or deeper study."

  "Quite true, Majesty," Fari said. "And if that were all there was to it I would not be here troubling you with news of such a minor event."

  The king rapped his claws against the glass jar, impatient. Fari hurried on. "Once the event was dated with some certainty," he said, "your wizards recalled other signs that occurred at, or near, the same time. The water from our wells suddenly tasted foul and bitter, a condition that lasted for some weeks."

  Manacia nodded, remembering that trouble.

  "The day after the sighting," Fari continued, "it was noticed that the liquid in the water clocks turned in the opposite direction. And one of the temple acolytes claimed when he rose that morning his reflection in the mirror was backwards, or, that is to say, he looked just like one demon sees another, left claw on the true left, right to right. Neither anomaly lasted long, Majesty, but there was concern at the time. Since then it has been observed that the ground has settled dangerously under some of our older buildings, causing them to sag. Moreover, bees have been swarming out of season, birds have appeared of a kind never seen before. And there has been an unusual number of birth oddities, two-headed swine, limbless dogs, fish with no eyes."

  "This is indeed disturbing news, Fari," the king said. "You were right to report it to me. Does anyone know what these things mean? Could it have anything to do with our attempt to defy the curse?"

  Fari jolted in surprise. He thought a moment, tapping his bone cane against the floor. Then he said, "I don’t know, Excellency. It’s a thought that hadn’t occurred to me."

  "But it is possible," the king said.

  "Yes, Majesty. I suppose it is."

  "What would you advise?" the king asked.

  Fari saw the danger at once and sadly shook his head. "I’m ashamed to admit, Excellency," Fari said, "that I am at loss. Not enough is known to form an opinion."

  "We must find out," the king said. "It might be dangerous to begin my experiments until we do."

  Fari nodded. "I can see how that could be so, Majesty," he said. "This is a most unfortunate situation. Your Excellency’s plans for invading the human lands will most certainly suffer a delay."

  "It can’t be helped, Fari," the king said. "Curses have a way of spreading beyond their original intent. There are so many links, some not even known to the original spell casters, that it’s impossible to account for all the effects a curse might trigger. That’s why I first sent bandits instead of our own soldiers across the Forbidden Desert.

  "As much as it grieves me to say this, Fari, it would be wise for us to proceed cautiously. But I want you to spare no expense. I want all my stargazers working on this. All my dreamcatchers. And I want daily sacrifices to the gods at the main temple, with weekly ones for the lesser houses of worship."

  "Yes, Excellency," Fari said, bobbing his he
ad and rapping his cane. "Without delay." He hurried off, relieved that he’d once again shifted all possible blame and responsibility onto the backs of others, while still being assured of winning praise and honors for any successes.

  For a change, however, he did not leave a happy king in his wake. Manacia was deeply troubled as he turned back to examine the head. The old fear of a rival oozed up to torment him. A shiver ran up his long bony spine.

  Manacia suddenly wondered if even now his enemy was thinking of him.

  If so, did that enemy have a human face?

  And if he did, was it possible he had already discovered the way through the Gods’ Divide.

  Had he found Kyrania?

  * * *

  Not long after Manacia’s eve of disappointment, Safar and Iraj said farewell. They made a ceremony of it, returning to Alisarrian’s Cave and the snowy pass where they’d battled the demons. Storms had further buried the evidence of the carnage and as they pushed across the snows on rough wooden skis there was nothing to hint of the events that had occurred there.

  "Maybe it was just a dream," Safar said. "Maybe it never happened at all and any moment now we’ll wake up to an ordinary day in ordinary two ordinary lives."

  Iraj barked laughter. "I’ve never been ordinary, Safar," he said. "And, admit it or not, neither have you. You’d save yourself a lot of bother if you just accepted it." He grinned. "If you dreamed Astarias," he said, "then you have the greatest imagination of any man in Esmir - a courtesan, young, beautiful, virginal and trained in all the arts to please a man. That was no dream, my friend. To make her one would be the greatest sin any god could imagine. When you’re an old man it’ll be memories of women like Astarias that will make your life seem well spent."

  Safar made a sour face. "I’d just as soon forget about it," he said. "I’m afraid I embarrassed myself with Astarias."

  Iraj clapped him on the back. "Don’t be ridiculous," he said. "So you fell in love with a courtesan. You’re not the first man. Nor will you be the last. So you professed undying love. So you promised her the moon and the stars and all the heavens contain, if only she’d remain in your arms. I said that to both of my twins. Separately. And together."