by Allan Cole
"For what mere woman could ever match such a wondrous steed?"
Silence followed. A silence where murder crept out of the shadows. Safar had anger enough to call it closer. He had the opportunity - they were alone in the royal chamber. And he had the weapons, the dagger in his belt, the blasting magic at his fingertips. He fought down the violence, nearly gagged on it. If he did act, terrible reprisals would certainly follow.
And at this moment Nerisa and Palimak would be making their way to the village at the crossroads, and safety. If Safar slew Protarus they’d never reach it. He had to play for time. It was the only way.
Before he could stumble out some sort of answer, Iraj said, "I’m afraid you’ve waited too long to reply, Safar.
"You failed the test."
Protarus abruptly turned away and strolled toward a small private door leading out of the chamber.
He paused at the door. "But I’m not so hard a man that I won’t give you another chance," he said.
"Send Lady Fatinah to me tonight. And all will be forgiven."
Then he was gone.
* * *
As soon as he’d cleared the palace grounds Safar ducked into an alley and shed his cloak of office. The rich costume, emblazoned with the symbols of Esmir’s Grand Wazier, was kicked into a dung heap. Beneath the cloak he’d worn the plain rough tunic and breeches of a common soldier. Then he hurried off, head low, trying not to move so fast he’d draw stares. Even so, he soon came to the vast demon quarters that sprawled all the way to Zanzair’s rear gates. Demon females peered up from their washing to watch him go by. Demon kits shouted insults, or crowded close to beg. And big demon males loomed out of taverns to issue drunken challenges at this human worm who dared walk their streets alone.
Safar paid them no mind, averting the eyes of the females, shaking off the young beggars and sidestepping the challengers.
His goal was a small shabby stable near the rear gates. He’d risen before dawn that morning, made a few hasty additions to the plan he and Nerisa had discussed the previous night, then gone home to pack some necessities before his servants arose. Afterwards he’d taken his best horse to the stable by the gates. He’d left it with the sleepy-eyed stablemaster, along with enough coins to ensure the animal’s care, but not so many as to arouse suspicion.
The whole time he’d prayed luck would be with him and the preparations would be unnecessary. He’d thought the first sign of that luck was Leiria’s absence either at the mansion or his home. He’d assumed she was attending one of her "training sessions" - the transparent ruse Protarus and Kalasariz had used so their spy could report to them and receive her instructions.
As he approached the stable he thought at least that one bit of luck had held. If it hadn’t he would’ve been forced to incapacitate Leiria in that same alley where he’d shed his cloak. Or, worse, be required to slay her. Safar had strong doubts he’d be able to do such a thing, no matter what the cost. Spy or not, Leiria had crept into his heart long ago and held a small piece of it.
There was no one about when he entered the ramshackle building. He called for the stablemaster, but no one answered. So he fished out a few coins, laid them on a work bench within easy sight and picked his way to the back where his horse and gear waited.
He froze in front of the stall. His horse was already saddled, bags strapped to the back, sheathed sword hanging by its belt from the pommel. On either side of his mount were two others - both saddled and ready. But ready for whom? He moved closer and suffered another jolt. Both horses were his!
Straw rustled and he whirled, dragging out the only weapon he had, the small silver dagger.
Leiria stood there, mailed and fully armed. He nearly lurched at her with the dagger, but pulled back in time. Just as he’d feared he lacked the necessary hate.
"What are you doing here?" he demanded.
Leiria held out her hands to show they were empty. He looked down and saw her sword was still in its sheath.
"I’m here to help you, Safar," she said.
Safar barked laughter. "So I see," he said with heavy sarcasm. "But to where? My grave?"
"I don’t blame you for thinking that," she said. "But you’ve got to believe me when I say I’ve never done or said anything to harm you. I told you once long ago I’d never betray you, Safar Timura. And I never have."
"What do you call spying?"
Leiria’s eyes were pleading. "If I didn’t give the king and Kalasariz what they wanted," she said, "they would have replaced me with someone else. Someone who didn’t love you, Safar. And you know that I do. Even now, when your heart is with another woman."
Safar thought he saw truth, but he was desperately afraid he was seeing what he wanted, not what really existed.
"Besides," Leiria said, "you never did anything wrong. You’ve never been a traitor. Never conspired. What did it hurt to tell them about your innocent excursions, friendly meetings, or all the long nights you spent studying books of magic? There’s one thing I didn’t tell them, however. I said nothing about the child. About Palimak."
"What are you saying?" Safar said. "They know he exists. It’s no secret."
"They don’t know he’s part demon," she said. "You kept it from me but I saw, Safar. I saw his eyes. What do you think Iraj would’ve imagined if he’d known that? His Grand Wazier in the arms of a woman with a monster for a child? Palimak’s no monster, but that’s not what Iraj would’ve thought. Especially after Kalasariz and Luka and Fari got to him. Whispering all kinds of disgusting things."
"I thank you for that, at least," Safar said. "But it doesn’t matter anymore. If I were you I’d get away from me just as fast as you can. Iraj and I are finished!"
"I know that, Safar," she said. "You were finished before you met this morning. It’d all been decided. Iraj never had any doubt you’d refuse him. He just needed an excuse to bring you down. To declare Safar Timura a criminal. To blacken your name. He’s afraid of you, Safar. He thinks you are his rival for his kingdom and the love of his subjects.
"But most of all, my dear, dear Safar, he’s afraid and jealous of your magic."
She paused a moment. Saw the suspicion vanish from his eyes. Saw those eyes turn from icy blue to the color of the lake in far Kyrania.
He said, "I’m sorry about Nerisa." He shrugged. "I never meant it to happen."
"I know that," Leiria said.
"I thought she was dead."
"I know that too."
"I’m ashamed to admit that I’ve treated you badly."
"Never mind," Leiria said. "There’s no time for apologies or remorse now, my love."
She took a deep breath, then said, "Hold on tight as you can while I tell you what’s happened. I would have said it first, but I knew you’d think it was a trick. A trap.
"Nerisa and Palimak never left. They are still in Zanzair."
"What?" Safar’s voice came like a cry.
"She was betrayed by Abubensu," Leiria said. "The carriage never arrived. He delayed her with lies until it was too late to find another. Now there are guards outside her home. Not many, but she knows they’re there so she doesn’t dare leave."
"How much time do we have?" Safar asked.
"I don’t know," Leiria said. "A few hours at most. They would’ve moved sooner but it’s you they want most of all. Besides, they have to gather their nerve and their forces to oppose you. You can be sure when they come it’ll not be just with soldiers, but with Fari’s best wizards and witch sniffers.
"That’s how much they fear you."
Leiria indicated the horses. "Everything’s ready. We have only to ride."
* * *
And ride they did. A mad clatter of iron hooves, shouted curses and cries of alarm as they dashed through the streets. They burst through the busy market place, scattering shoppers and knocking over stalls. They tore through parks, leaping hedges and showering mud. But when they came to the hill leading up to Nerisa’s mansion they hauled the horses in, di
smounted as quietly as they could, and hid them among some trees.
Then they crept up the hill in full daylight, using every rock and stump and bit of brush for cover. A young nurse with two young charges in tow saw them and hurried away. A gardener came on them while they were lying in a hedge and Leiria took him captive as gently as she could and bound him with leather laces from her harness.
There were four guards patrolling the grounds. Three demons and a hulking brute of a human.
They killed all four, quietly and efficiently.
Then they were at the door.
"I’ll get the horses," Leiria said and she turned and ran back down the hill.
The door came open and Nerisa rushed into Safar’s arms.
"I was afraid you’d never come," she said. "And I was more afraid you would. It’s you they want, not me."
"I wish that were true," Safar said. "But when the king condemned me he condemned you as well.
"Now, quick! Get Palimak. We have to flee!"
Then they were out on the broad lawn and Leiria was thundering up, leading two horses behind her.
Safar took Palimak while Nerisa mounted. The child was silent, trembling. Eyes flashing from yellow to hazel and back again.
Then Nerisa was fully mounted and she reached down to take the child.
Safar was handing him up when Gundara suddenly shouted, "They’re coming, Master! They’re coming!"
He whirled, clumsy with the child still in his hands. Down the hill he saw helmed demons and humans kicking their mounts up the road. Then he heard the bay of the witch sniffers and saw the devil hounds bounding in front of the troops. He felt a blast of magic and reeled back, stumbling against Nerisa’s horse, which shrilled and shied away. He heard her shout to him to hand up the child.
But there wasn’t time, there wasn’t time.
Another blast, stronger than the first, came at him like a great wind, shriveling the grass with its heat.
He managed a blocking spell, but diverted only part of it. He turned to protect the child, catching the force with his back. He felt it sear through his clothes, gritted his teeth against the pain and he heard Gundara shout, "Shut up!" and Palimak echo, "Shut up!" and then the pain was gone.
He set the child down and came about, clawing at his pocket. The witch sniffers were almost on him now, but he had time to hurl the pellets and they exploded, sheeting fire and smoke.
The devil hounds were scattered by the blast, shrieking in fear and pain.
Smoke clouds - red and green and yellow swirled all around.
Then he heard the thunder of the approaching troops and through the smoke he saw Leiria, sword in hand, charge into the mass, cutting left and right, leaving demon howls and human screams in her wake. She broke through, then wheeled her horse and came crashing back, her killing sword releasing rivers of blood.
And now Nerisa was off her horse and beside him, armed with nothing but a whip. A witch sniffer leaped out of one the smoke columns, slavering jaws yawning. It came so fast it almost had him, but Nerisa lashed out with her whip, slicing through those open jaws and the creature’s face became a gory mask and it slammed to the ground. So close that Palimak hit it with his tiny fist, crying, "Shut up! Shut up!"
Nerisa scooped Palimak off the ground. Slinging him on her hip, she held him with one hand while she whirled the whip with the other.
Then the air shrilled and a dark swarm of arrows came lofting towards them.
But they were slow, so very slow. They reached the apex of their flight then down they came, down, down and down.
Just as they struck, Safar hurled himself on Nerisa and the child. His body, not magic, was their only shield. He heard them strike all around him, thought for an instant they’d been saved by a miracle or incompetence. Then he grunted as one buried itself in his thigh. Grunted again when another struck his shoulder. He hurt, by the gods he hurt, but he didn’t care because he could feel Nerisa’s warmth against him. Hear Palimak crying beneath her. And he knew they were safe.
He rolled away, purposely and painfully breaking off the arrows against the ground.
Safar came to his feet, calm and strong and gathering more power with each breath.
He slipped the dagger from his belt. Casual, as if he had all the time in the world. With cold interest he noted Leiria savaging the soldiers. She was here, there, everywhere, darting in and out, dealing out death as if it were the sweetest of gifts. But she was tiring, as was her horse. He saw the animal stagger once, saw her sword arm droop and the effort on her face as she forced it up again.
Then the great spell came, just as he knew it would. He could smell Fari, that damned old demon, behind it. Ah, and there was a little bit of Luka there. A whiff of arrogance. And Kalasariz? Where was he? He sniffed again, caught the sewer stench of conspiracy. There you are, you whore’s son. But Fari would need more for this spell.
He’d need Iraj.
Safar imagined them tucked safely away in some dark room of the palace. The Necromancium, most likely. Fari was a cautious old fiend and wouldn’t trust his wizards to drag Safar down. So just in case he’d create a mighty spell. He’d take a drop of blood from each. And build on the innate power all conspiracies hold. He’d take one from Luka for his poisonous hate of his father. One from Kalasariz, to confound. One from himself for real magic. And finally, one from Iraj, for there is nothing as deadly as friend against friend.
Asper had taught Safar that.
Then Fari would mix the blood in a potion. A potion he would’ve labored long and hard on well before this conspiracy had come into the open. And then they’d drink. Each passing the cup on to the other.
Poor Iraj, Safar thought. He probably didn’t know the potion would seal him to the others forever.
Then Fari would cast the spell. But what spell would it be?
Ah! What else?
The Force of Four!
Another lesson learned from Asper.
He shouted for Gundara who leaped out onto his shoulder.
The little Favorite chattered a spell, head darting this way and that, looking, looking...
He jabbed a finger to the east. "There, Master!" he cried.
At first all he saw was the glare of the Demon Moon above the palace. Then he saw a shape take form. It looked like a wolf’s head. A wolf with long fangs like a demon’s. Baleful eyes moving. Searching.
Then the wolf saw him. It bayed in hellish joy and shot forward, head growing larger as it came.
But it wasn’t the head Safar feared. It was the killing spell coming like a desert storm behind it. So strong it was impossible for him to stop.
Safar pointed the dagger at the wolf’s head, the tip glittering blood red from the moon.
He made that his center. Then he cut to the side, once for Luka. Another slice. Twice for Kalasariz. Again. Thrice for Fari. And then the fourth - for Iraj.
Then he aimed the dagger at the center again. Right between the wolf head’s glaring red eyes.
He felt the force of its gathering hate. Felt the first buffet of searing magical winds.
He put all of his might, all of his will behind the dagger tip.
And he shouted - "PROTARUS!"
There was a clap of ungodly thunder and the wolf head shattered. He heard a distant howl. And then the sky was empty and the air was still.
He looked around and saw the troops fleeing down the hill. Leiria was coming up to him, leading her horse, which was bleeding heavily from many wounds.
"There’s more of them, Safar," she said. "You can see from the edge of the hill. Hundreds of soldiers. They’re milling about now, gathering their nerve. But they’ll come soon enough. This isn’t over yet."
"I couldn’t kill him," Safar said. "I hurt him, but I couldn’t kill him. There wasn’t time. "
"Iraj won’t give you another chance," she said.
"Then let’s not give him one," Safar said.
He turned to find Nerisa, saying, "We’ll head for t
he village just like we-"
Nerisa was sprawled on the ground. There was an arrow through her breast, blood stain creeping across her tunic.
Palimak was kneeling beside her, weeping and blubbering over and over again - "Shut up, shut up, shut up!" as if he were trying to silence Death himself. And perhaps he was.
Safar felt nothing. He was too shocked to grieve, too numb for thought. The only sensation was the cold stone in his chest where his heart had once lived.
He felt a tug at his sleeve. "We have to go, Safar," Leiria said. "I’m sorry she’s dead, but there’s nothing we can do."
Her voice sounded distant - like a gull crying above a great sea.
Then it came closer, clearer. "Safar! They’ll be here any minute."
Still, he did not move.
Leiria rushed over to Nerisa’s body. Gently she picked up Palimak, soothing him, but awkwardly in a soldier’s manner.
She carried the child back to Safar and pushed him against his chest. Safar didn’t react and so she grabbed each arm in turn and folded them across the boy, forcing an embrace.
"They’ll kill the child, too, Safar," she said. "Nerisa’s child!"
Safar came unstuck and clutched the weeping Palimak tight.
"I won’t let them," he said. "I’ll kill that whoreson, I swear I will!"
"Killing will have to wait, Safar," Leiria said. "We have to get away first."
And so that is what they did. They rode off the hill, Leiria leading the way and Safar carrying Palimak. Exactly how they escaped, he’d never be able to recall. He remembered only the shouts of soldiers behind and to the side of them. The sound of shutters and doors slamming as they clattered through the streets. Screams and blood at the city gates. The countryside whipping past. Switchback trails, splashing in creeks, hiding in woods.
Finally they arrived at the village where Safar and Nerisa had planned to meet.
There Safar came alive again. His heart was still stone, but he felt a growing heat.
It was hate that brought him alive, desire for revenge.
He sent Leiria on with Palimak. Perhaps she argued, he couldn’t remember. There was only a vague recollection she’d return on a certain date. Soon as she was gone he forgot the date.