by Allan Cole
“And powerful beyond thinking. A conclave of a thousand wizards couldn’t possess such power.”
Kriegworm twisted his watch band until it nearly broke. She doesn’t just suspect, he thought, she knows! It took all his effort to fight off the growing hysteria in his horny breast.
Then to his horror he heard Vlad say, “Hmm. I experienced a similar situation not long ago. I wonder. Could it be the same … umm … Watcher?”
The Rolex band snapped. Kriegworm was so upset he didn’t notice his prize possession drop from his wrist and fall to the floor.
His fangs chattered in fear as a baleful eye turned on him. A fierce pain gripped his heart— like a taloned fist squeezing, squeezing …
“Mercy, master!” he shouted. “Mercy!”
* * *
Vlad paced the floor, thinking of his first encounter with the mysterious … Watcher … during his expedition to the Fiendish Worlds.
Of course, he couldn’t tell the others the details of what had happened. The mission, after all, had been of the highest secrecy.
It takes much to make a Church Of The Sword acolyte shiver, but that’s what Vlad did when he remembered the evil voice hissing in his ear: “We’ll meet soon, softskin!”
His respect for Tanya’s abilities as a detective soared. She was not only beautiful, she was brilliant.
“Well,” Tanya said, a little impatient, “aren’t you going to tell us what happened?”
“He can’t,” Davyd said. Vlad was surprised to hear the sympathy in his enemy’s voice. “Secret stuff, I’m sure.”
Davyd caught Vlad’s eyes with his own. “Isn’t that right?” he said.
A moment passed between them. They were enemies, but still one of an extremely rare kind. Each understood the other’s deepest feelings without a word being spoken.
Vlad grinned. “Right,” he replied.
He turned to Tanya. “Would it anger you too much if I pleaded state secrets and let it go at that?”
Tanya chuckled. Vlad loved the sound of her laugh. It was low and throaty … from the earth, as they say.
“How could I be angry with you, Vlad?” she murmured. “Now that we have this … understanding … is that the word? Understanding?”
Vlad’s mouth parched. His tongue felt thick. He nodded, swept up by the perfume of her presence. “Yes,” he said. “An … understanding!”
To his immense disappointment Tanya broke the gaze— reluctantly, he prayed— and turned to Davyd.
“And you, Davyd?” she said. “Did you share such an experience?”
Davyd thought a minute. “Maybe,” he said. “Maybe …. When I was talking to the boy, I felt …” He shook himself. Squared his shoulders.
“I’m not the sensitive type,” he said. “So maybe I missed something.”
Tanya gave him a gentle smile. “Not sensitive, are we?” she said. Then, low, “I think otherwise, Davyd.”
Davyd flushed, heat rising, feeling as if only he and Tanya existed.
Vlad made a discreet cough, shattering the moment. At first Davyd was irritated. The guy was butting into his game. Then he saw the confusion on Vlad’s face and jealousy vanished. Davyd could tell that Vlad was as mystified by Tanya’s effect on him as Davyd was.
Tanya said, “I don’t know what’s happening, here.”
Her voice was anguished and the men looked at her and saw she was trembling. Her face was pale as she struggled with something within.
“Why don’t we just … you know … let it be?” she said, almost pleading.
“Sure,” Davyd said.
“Of course,” Vlad said.
But as they spoke all three knew no one would just “let it be.”
Davyd felt as if the three them had climbed onto a high-speed railed vehicle that was charging ferociously toward some dark destination.
Tanya recovered, straightening her uniform, back to business.
“So, are we agreed? This matter demands the fullest investigation, am I right?”
Both men nodded.
“Then the truce is extended?”
Davyd and Vlad exchanged glances.
“It’s extended,” Vlad said for both of them.
“Does that mean we’ll work on this … together?” Tanya said. “That we can combine forces, so to speak?”
“Combined forces,” Davyd nodded. “Best way to go.”
“We’ll have to consult our superiors, of course,” Vlad put in.
“Naturally,” Tanya said. “I’ve got my bosses too. Beats the hell out of me how I’ll explain it. But I’ll think of something. I always do.”
She grinned wide. “Meanwhile,” she said, “peace?”
“Yes, peace,” Vlad said.
Davyd shrugged. “Never tried it before, but what the hell, peace it is!”
“One thing,” Tanya said. “Can you two give me any hint at all about yourselves? So I can explain it to my bosses, you understand.”
“We’re sin eaters,” Davyd said.
“Sin eaters?” Tanya puzzled. “I don’t understand.”
“A long time ago,” Davyd said, “when a guy died, his family and friends would prepare a big funeral feast. All the goodies they could afford were set out on a table. The food represented the sins of the dead guy.
“Then they’d hire a Sin Eater who’d sit down at the table and eat all the food. Consuming the guy’s sins along with the feast. Taking them on his own soul.
“That’s what Vlad and I do. Take on the sins of the galaxy so the innocent don’t have to suffer.”
Davyd looked at Vlad. “Close enough?” he asked.
“Sin eater,” Vlad said thoughtfully. Then he smiled. “Yes, that would describe it exactly.”
Tanya stared at them. What had she gotten herself into?
She said, “After we’ve talked to our bosses we’ll need to set up a way of contacting to each other.”
“Never fear, my Tanya,” Vlad said. “At the appropriate time, we’ll find you.”
“We’re experts at that sort of thing,” Davyd added. “It goes with sin eating.”
* * *
Kriegworm remained cowering on the deck long after his master withdrew. He found his Rolex and absently picked it up and examined the broken band.
It would be easy to fix. If only the mess he was in could be so easily attended to.
But it was plain that his orders were impossible to carry out.
Well … perhaps they were possible, but if he acted as commanded Kriegworm was doomed. They’d catch him. That was certain.
Once he acted he would not escape the dogs put on him by the United World Police. The thought that hurt him most was that his action would be a betrayal of the organization he was so proud to be a member of.
Kriegworm hated all softskins, just like any normal fiend. But when he wore the suit that was his UWP uniform, gold Rolex strapped about his wrist, he almost felt like a softskin himself. And that made him feel sinfully good.
He suspected his master knew this shameful secret, which made Kriegworm even more vulnerable.
The fiend thumped his head on the floor, crying aloud, “What shall I do? What shall I do?”
Then light dawned and his weeping ceased. There was a way to accomplish what had been commanded with no danger to himself. He scrambled upright, laughing gleefully.
His mission was to kill Tanya Lawson.
And he knew just the person to do it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
It was once again the same hall and the same light and the grim man in the leather vest was once again in his place before the fire.
If some poor softskin had dared enter this room he’d soon have learned to his infinite horror that this was no man, but the fiend— Infeligo— in mortal disguise.
Like his seven colleagues— the members of the fiendish Council Of Eight— Infeligo was more deadly, and certainly more evil, than any mere human could imagine.
But at the moment all was not wel
l with the noble Infeligo. Although his movements might easily be mistaken as leisurely, even peaceful, his inner turmoil was revealed by the shaking firebrand in his hand as lifted it to light his pipe.
When Infeligo’s face was momentarily lit by the pipe’s soft flow, his wrinkles looked like deep, bottomless crevices.
A nasty voice hissed from behind him. “Shizdetcs, as Auerkhan’s Rooskies used to say, isn’t it, noble Infeligo?”
Once again it was the scoffer, Mamri. But his mockery lacked the strength it had held before. He too was deeply troubled. Mamri took a seat next to his colleague.
“Thou bug in the rug,” grumbled Infeligo. “What’s going on? What happened to thy marvelous —” he almost sang it “— to thy marvelous suit?”
Mamri was in a full Japanese commando’s field uniform— but it was disheveled and marked by several burned holes. The old fiend’s face was covered with a web of green, orange and purple lines, signs of the decadent spells he was wont to cast for his dark pleasures.
“This is not a really good time for joking,” Mamri snapped. “Heavens and Hells, Infeligo, I think we’re all in a big rusty pod in the very middle of the storm. Time to declare peace and to cease fire. We both have returned from perilous journeys, have we not? I’m sure we both have a lot to tell.
“Why should we sit here in our main hall, tossing insulting jokes at one another? We must not be fools, Infeligo, if we still want to live and to rule.”
“Such a noble thing!” grinned Infeligo.
However, his grin was rather pale, as if he were preserving hope that ill tidings were his own self torment and his colleagues might have something more optimistic to report.
“Good thoughts are coming to good heads simultaneously, aren’t they?” he said. “Well, Mamri, a bargain, right? Thy news for mine. Some small exchange, before all our friends have arrived. Our sweethearts, Auerkhan and Pilyardock, thou knowest…”
After a long hesitation, Mamri nodded agreement. “The Green Hordes are uneasy,” he said.
“Art thou sure, Mamri?” Infeligo asked. “Do they really plan to overcome the softskin outposts on the Border?”
Mamri’s thin mouth jerked. “They had good practice with me!” he said, indicating the burned holes in his costume.
Infeligo sniffed the air, then caught the magical scent of the ice lightning the wild demons used when defending their borders at the edge of the galaxy. One cheek twitched in alarm.
Mamri caught his reaction and grimaced. “Yea, noble Infeligo. The Green Hordes, the Flesh Eaters, the Bone Shadows, the Gliding Crushers…”
“Do the wild fiends plan an invasion?” Infeligo asked, astounded.
“No doubt,” Mamri sighed.
“But they don’t have a chance!” Infeligo said. “The softskin mages …”
“Will be busy tearing one another in pieces!” Mamri broke in with a snarl.
Infeligo lapsed into silence, thinking dark thoughts. Then: “Art thou quite certain thy information is correct, noble Mamri?”
“Correct?!” exploded Mamri. “How darest thou doubt my word!”
“Easy, my noble colleague, easy please,” Infeligo said, making a wry face. “I do not doubt a single word. The Amers and Rooskies are overcome by thoughts of war. Arms clashing, reserves called up, hasty graduations at all the military-mage universities. And much more.”
“It seems that all our brave warriors art nothing but dull handsuckers,” Mamri growled.
Then he calmed himself, hoping against hope that Infeligo had better news to report.
“Perhaps there is still time to stop this foolishness,” he said. “Tell me, what news of our much vaunted investigation, my noble friend? And what of the famous Major Lawson? What is happening with her? Is there any word on the Mageweb?”
Infeligo shook his head. “The Mageweb is filled with hysteria,” he said. “Everyone is speculating on what Lawson is saying to her superiors. But not one reliable scrap of information has been revealed. The UWP security is so tight, I doubt even the Amer president or the Rooskie monarch has clearance.”
Mamri was stunned. “Doest thou claim that not even we know the truth?” he wailed. “How can that be?! Never in a thousand years have we —”
“Sorry to interrupt you, gentlemen,” came a third voice. Jolted, the two demons whirled about to see Apollion. Apparently the formal chieftain of the Council had abandoned his old habit of arriving late, surprising them both.
“I’ve only caught the last words, noble ones,” he said. “And Mamri is quite right in his concerns. But I’ll speak about that a bit later.”
Mamri and Infeligo looked at one another with real fear.
* * *
The members of the Council were listening to Apollion’s report in dead silence.
“…Thus, noble colleagues,” Apollion was saying, “we still have a great lack of information. What we have received from Auerkhan’s and Pilyardock’s scouts amounts to nothing but wild charges with nothing to support them.
“At the same time the situation between the Amers and Rooskies grows more difficult as each e-day passes.
“Thy Amer wards, Pilyardock, are screaming for revenge. And thy Rooskies, Auerkhan, are like stupid and stubborn cattle, claiming about ‘Amer provocation’ and so on.
“I fear we’ve lost any control of the crisis, noble ones, and if we do not act soon we may permanently lose our rule over all the softskins. And the donations that have fed us and made our lives so pleasant for a thousand years will cease to pour in!
“What art thy Odysseus Corps doing, noble Pilyardock? And thy Church of the Sword, Auerkhan? What art thy infamous assassins doing?
“Despite the peril we are in, both of you have refused to allow your assassins to declare a truce so they can join forces with Major Lawson to get to the bottom of this most unfortunate incident.
“I personally intervened, but both of you continue to fight me most bitterly about this wise proposal. I can’t understand why such noble ones are making things so difficult for us all?”
Pilyardock and Auerkhan said nothing, but only glowered at one other with intense hatred.
Apollion sighed, then turned to the others. “Gentlemen,” he said, “Somehow we must block this war. But in doing so we must not reveal our existence to the softskins. That is of the utmost importance, as you all know.”
There was a deep and gloomy silence as the last words sunk in.
Then Infeligo spoke up. “Could we not we cast a Great Spell?” he asked. “Such as the one we used in the Old Days, when the feasting on the softskins began?”
“Impossible,” Simionte objected. “The hatred between the Amers and Rooskies is too hot for even us to overcome.”
Pilyardock turned an evil glance on Auerkhan. “Doest thou see what thou hast done?” he growled. “One missile shot and now all is imperiled!”
The Fiendish Keeper of the Russians looked at the Keeper of the Americans through narrowed eyes.
“Thou art a flaming liar, noble Pilyardock,” he said.
He turned to the others at the table “And that Amer bitch whom my noble colleagues have praised so highly is nothing but an Odysseus whore. She’ll say whatever our noble Pilyardock requires.”
“Shut up!” Apollion roared. “Enough of this foolish talk. Noble Pilyardock, do not answer! Noble Auerkhan, take back thy words. We all understand they were said in rage and cannot be taken seriously.”
Then, to the entire gathering, he said, “Gentlemen, I intend to exterminate all disagreement in the womb. Yes, we have a serious problem with this Amer-Rooskie crisis. But is that all? Is it, noble ones?
“We have heard the reports of noble Mamri and the no less noble Infeligo. What means that stirring across the softskins’ border? What means that tremendous shadow above Lawson and her reports?
“Noble Sir Pilyardock! Can thy Amer lads create anything like this?”
“No,” sneered Pilyardock. “I hath no doubt this is from my de
arest friend, the noble gentleman Auerk …”
“Please desist, noble Sir Pilyardock,” Apollion broke in, speaking softly.
But it was a silky softness hinting of many dread things and it brought a dead silence into the hall. Apollion looked into Pilyardock’s face and his eyes were like an old owl’s contemplating a tasty mouse.
Pilyardock gulped. “I beg thy pardon, colleagues,” he murmured.
“Thank thee, noble one,” Apollion said.
Then he scanned the faces of his colleagues. “Let’s start from the very beginning. Noble Sir Mamri?”
“The noble Apollion is quite correct, gentlemen,” Mamri said. “More things are stirring than just this impending war. As was said, I’ve wandered far beyond the uttermost human outposts.
“I’ve received distress signals from my watchers in the Fiendish Wilderness. I’ve crossed the Human Continuum and then over the Great Fracture— through the Inner Hell and other conquered dominions …”
“What doest thou want us to do to repay thee for all this travel?” Syrr said sarcastically. “We know these places well. Do not tire us with a lengthy list. What we want to know is what thou didst see!”
“I saw nothing,” answered Mamri coldly, but rather calmly. “But I heard much. And it was all ill tidings, noble Syrr. Those long-enslaved creatures,— whom thou art smashing into dust without notice— were whispering about the Wild Hordes, moving from spell-conquered but uncharted regions near to the softskin’s outposts.”
Syrr laughed. It was a ghastly sound. “And thou believed those weaklings?”
Mamri shrugged. “I always believe dark news, my noble friend. For Truth always hides in Evil shadows.”
He turned to the others. “Am I right, noble sires?” he asked sardonically.
No one answered.
Mamri grinned. “I thought as much,” he said. Then he continued his tale. “After that, I crossed the Inner and the Outer Hells and I passed over The Eight Circles. In Limbo and Kocyte the rumors became more detailed.
“It was said that the Green Hordes ripped down the collapsed globules of their space and, so to say, raised the war-banners. I’ve met the Flesh Eaters, the Gliding Crushers and the Bone Shadows myself.”