The Dark Gods

by Josepha Sherman

  "Dian!"

  Sheila snatched frantically at the other girl's arm. But her hand closed on empty air. With a wail of terror, Dian went sliding down a smooth, glassy slope and out of sight. Sheila threw herself flat trying to peer down the slope.

  But the panel was noiselessly slipping back into place. No matter how Sheila pried and probed at it, it remained shut.

  "Oh, Dian…”

  Nobody answered. After a moment Sheila got to her feet again, feeling so alone that she wanted to burst out sobbing. She was tired of being brave! She wanted her parents, and her friends, Cookie and Dr. Reit. But unless she somehow got out of here and took the Tracker back from Mardock, she wasn't going to see any of them ever again!

  The tears that were already welling threatened to spill over. But then Sheila sniffed, and quickly rubbed a hand across her eyes. Sure, she was scared, but crying wasn't going to do any good. If she was ever going to get out of this mess, she had better start thinking instead. Why were Pelu and Dian snatched away while nothing at all had happened to her? And why did Pelu's abductor strike only at Dian, as though Sheila had suddenly become invisible?

  Oh, of course! The powers of the Dark Gods hadn't worked on her before, and plainly they still weren't working. Sure, Kumuru had been aware of Pelu and Dian. But, Sheila suddenly realized, he obviously had no idea she was here.

  But you will soon, Kumuru! she promised silently.

  Hoping Pelu and Dian were all right, Sheila did the only thing she could: she stole warily on, following the light.

  Now she could hear a faint thread of sound, as though two people were arguing. And ahead of her the light had become very bright, outlining what could only be the end of the passageway. It seemed to come out into some sort of an audience chamber. Now, who would be holding an audience at this hour of the night! Sheila wondered.

  Kumuru, of course.

  Hardly daring to breathe, Sheila took a silent step forward . . . and another . . . and then another.

  Well, this was the end of the passageway, all right. And that probably was an audience chamber out there. But she couldn't tell for sure, because a huge column was blocking her way. Sheila gritted her teeth. Who knew what danger might be waiting ahead? But whatever it was, she certainly couldn't just stand there like a frightened rabbit all night!

  Cautiously she moved out of the passageway and darted behind the column. From here she could see that this was indeed a vast room. The red sandstone walls were covered from floor to high, vaulted ceiling with murals. Sheila took a look at them, then quickly turned away.

  Ugh! The creatures painted on those murals were horrible! All teeth and talons and staring, hating, evil eyes. Were those the Dark Gods? How could anybody ever be crazy enough to want to worship them?

  To take her mind off the hideous murals, Sheila warily peeked out from behind the shielding column.

  At the far end of the audience hall, half hidden by shadow, was a stone bier. On it lay a funerary statue of a warrior figure, like one she had seen in a history book. But not quite. Someone had apparently painted this one, putting in every detail of the slain warrior's sword and tunic and long, silvery hair—Sheila had to hastily bite down on her lip to keep from crying out. That wasn't a statue at all! That was Illyria! For a moment Sheila was sure the woman was dead. But then she realized that Illyria was breathing, softly but steadily. The Unicorn Queen was sound asleep, entranced.

  I've got to wake her up! Sheila thought frantically.

  But, how? All at once feeling very young and helpless, she ached to simply run to Illyria and shake her till she opened her eyes. But that would hardly do the trick. Sheila knew enough about magic by now to realize you couldn't break a spell like that.

  Besides . . . they weren't alone. From the other end of the hall Sheila could hear the sound of angry voices. Holding her breath, she peered around the other side of the column. And now she finally got a look down the many-columned length of the hall.

  Uh-oh. Trouble.

  At the end of the hall, beneath a spectacular, gem-encrusted mural of heroic figures, stood a glittering red throne that looked as though it had been cut from one gigantic ruby. And lounging on that throne was Kumuru, King of Samarna and Sorcerer of the Dark Gods.

  Sheila sighed soundlessly. Even now, in the middle of all this danger, she still had to admit he was incredibly good-looking! The light from the mass of torches turned his skin to burnished gold and his hair to gleaming jet. His fiery red cloak was thrown casually back off his shoulders, and rubies glinted from his towering feather crown and heavy golden breastplate.

  Kumuru suddenly leaned forward, pointing contemptuously at someone who stood before him—a tall, lean someone dressed all in black. Someone who seemed strangely familiar. .

  Waiting till Kumuru's head was turned away from her, Sheila tiptoed down to the next column. Now, if only the mysterious stranger would turn around . . . more . . . just a little more . .

  I don't believe it!

  The man in black was no stranger. Sheila knew him far better than she cared to. This was none other than Sheila's old foe: Dynasian's comrade, Ankzar's ally, the unlawful possessor of Dr. Reit's Tracker—this was the wizard Mardock!

  12

  Plots and Counterplots

  Sheila stared at Mardock in complete shock. What was he doing here? The last time they had met, he was still in the pay of Emperor Ankzar. Well, nobody ever said sorcerers couldn't quit their jobs, Sheila thought, just like ordinary folk.

  Oh, but this was too much. One enemy was bad enough. But Mardock and Kumuru-what sort of unholy alliance could they be plotting? Sheila clenched her fists in frustration. From where she stood, she couldn't make out a word that they were saying. She would have to get just a little bit closer.

  As she began to tiptoe forward again, the scabbard of her sword swung against the column with a sharp clink! that seemed to echo throughout the vast hall. Sheila froze in horror, sure that both sorcerers were going to pounce on her. But to her relief, they were too busy arguing to notice anything else. And now she was close enough to hear them clearly:

  "But I tell you, King Kumuru, you're making a mistake!"

  "Oh, I think not, sorcerer.”

  "No, wait. Hear me out. Please." Mardock's voice softened to a coaxing purr. "Your Majesty, I know you have Power. Vast Power. But . . ." He shrugged. "Let us face facts. For all your magic you are still but one man, alone, with no one to guard your back or help you increase your strength."

  "And you would be that guard, eh, Mardock?" Kumuru's voice was just as silky.

  "Why, yes, King Kumuru." Mardock smiled charmingly. "And I promise you, you'd not regret my aid."

  "Because I'd no longer be alive to regret anything?"

  "No! I mean, yes! I mean—Your Majesty! I am no traitor!"

  "I think the late Dynasian of Campora might have told a different tale."

  "I did not betray him!" Mardock raged. "It was that cursed Laric and his cursed Unicorn Queen who spoiled everything! Why, I would have ruled-"

  Mardock stopped short, dismayed at what he had almost said. But it was already too late to hide.

  "You would have ruled Campora, sorcerer?" purred Kumuru. "As you would rule Samarna? Oh, I think not!"

  "Wait! Hear me out. Dynasian was a fool, but you are not. You can appreciate what I would mean to you.”

  "Sleepless nights and a back ever imperiled."

  "No! Listen to me! You are a sorcerer, you know Power. I have my own Power, great Power! If we united-"

  "Unite with you?" Kumuru's high laugh dripped with scorn. "You, little worm? Why, you have your petty little magics, true. But I am the priest of the Dark Gods themselves! You are weak, pathetic, compared to me!"

  And to make his point, Kumuru shouted a sorcerous Word, flung out his arm in a commanding gesture—and Mardock was thrown to his knees!

  "You would dare!" Mardock gasped in shock.

  Kumuru laughed. "I would, indeed, fool!"

&
nbsp; That was too much for Mardock. "Then you will meet your doom!" he shrieked, eyes blazing in insulted fury. As Mardock shouted out the twisting words of a spell, angry green lightning flashed from his pointing hands.

  Sheila stood transfixed, expecting to see Kumuru turned to ash. But the bilious lightning simply bounced off the king's chest and vanished!

  Mardock stared, mouth agape, looking every bit as astonished as Sheila felt at his spell's failure.

  "Poor Mardock," Kumuru taunted with mock concern. "You never realized the truth, did you? Oh, I am not like you, Mardock, with your innate, inner magic. Your finite magic, limited to whatever paltry strength resides within your foolish body. I have no inner magic."

  "But you-"

  “Be still, Mardock." Kumuru drew himself up proudly. "I have something better than your petty magic: I can draw upon the endlessly powerful reservoir that is the sorcery of the Dark Gods themselves!"

  As Mardock struggled to catch his breath, the King of Samarna smiled cruelly. "You still don't understand, eh? The focus of my magic isn't trapped in a fragile, fleshy body. It lies within the Amulet of Power, the stone red as blood, red as fire, given me by my father, and he by his, down through the ages." He paused. "What's this, Mardock? Do I see power-lust in your eyes? Forget it, man. Only I or one of my blood can wield the Dark Gods' Power. Anyone else would be blasted to ash at the amulet's very touch!" Kumuru's smile broadened. "As long as the Amulet of Power remains unbroken, intact, the Dark Gods protect me, Mardock. And I cannot be slain!''

  Sheila saw the involuntary little sideways glance Kumuru gave to a small table beside the throne, and bit her lip with excitement. On that table was the same red charm he had worn within the stone circle!

  That's got to be the Amulet of Power!

  But why would the man risk taking off such a precious thing? Of course, if the amulet was so deadly, who else but Kumuru would dare touch it?

  Unless . . . She had been immune to the Dark Gods' magic so far. What if she could find a way to steal away the amulet? Would Kumuru then be helpless?

  Mardock must have been wondering the same thing. But he had missed the point of the small table entirely. The way his greedy gaze kept returning to the rubies glittering in Kumuru's breastplate, he clearly assumed the Amulet of Power was embedded there.

  "A pretty story, Kumuru!" he cried. "But I don't believe a word of it!"

  With that, Mardock lunged at the king, trying to tear the breastplate from his chest. But Kumuru was too quick for him. Leaping aside with catlike quickness, he called out a Word that rang so sharply Sheila gasped and clapped her hands over her ears in pain. The hall erupted into a blinding flash of red light!

  The blazing light lasted just an instant, and then all was blackness. Blinking her dazzled eyes, seeing nothing but greenish afterimages at first, Sheila squinted till she could make out the crumpled form of Mardock lying motionless on the cold stone floor.

  He can't be dead! she thought in panic. If he is, I'll never get my Tracker back!

  But then, to her relief, she realized that his chest was rising and falling gently. Kumuru's magic had simply knocked him senseless.

  At an imperious gesture from their king, two of the hulking rock-men guards strode forward and swung Mardock's limp form up between them. Kumuru nodded approvingly, then waved them away. A small, cold smile flickered on his lips as the sorcerer was carried off into darkness.

  As she watched Kumuru watching the guards, Sheila suddenly realized that he wasn't paying attention to anything else. Without really thinking, she began tiptoeing carefully toward Illyria. If she could only awaken the Unicorn Queen before Kumuru noticed .

  But suddenly Sheila was caught in a blazing circle, sharp and clear as any spotlight. She whirled about, trying to return to the safety of the shadows. But that dazzling light was all around her. Kumuru, who had settled back onto the throne, leaped to his feet again, staring.

  "You, again!" he cried. "Will I never be rid of your presence?"

  Snatching up the Amulet of Power, he shouted out the harsh words of a spell.

  There wasn't time to run. Sheila braced herself, wincing. The now-familiar tingling raced through her and—Nothing!

  Sheila let out a shaky sigh of relief. It seemed she was still immune to the power of the Dark Gods.

  Kumuru was not about to give up so easily, though. Before Sheila could move, he gestured fiercely, and several of his rock-men surged forward to surround her.

  "Uh . . . hi, guys," she said, fighting to keep her voice from shaking.

  Gosh, they were ugly, seen up close like this. They were hardly in man-shape at all, these big, crudely formed things. And they didn't have true faces, either. Instead, there were only the roughest indications of where eyes and nose and mouth should be.

  But then they didn't have to breathe, after all. They weren't really alive! Somehow that wasn't a comforting thought.

  They stank, too, of earth and dark, dank, secret places. And they fairly radiated rough, raw strength. The mindless strength of the earth.

  Sheila gave the rock-men a forced smile, not at all sure they could see it. "You . . . uh . .. don't have to worry, she said. "I'm not going to argue with you."

  Kumuru was murmuring something. Sheila heard the words "Dark Gods," and bent and twisted till she could see through a gap between two of the rock-men. And there was Kumuru, holding the Amulet of Power to his lips. He was still murmuring something, asking the Dark Gods—No, no, he wasn't asking them anything. He was summoning them!

  "Hey, no, don't-" Sheila cried helplessly. But the summons had already been issued.

  And answered. All at once the horrified Sheila knew that there was another presence in the hall. At a wave from Kumuru the rock-men backed away, and Sheila braced herself to see— Nothing! There was no one in the hall save Kumuru and herself.

  Sheila shuddered in sudden fresh terror. Maybe she couldn't see anyone, but that didn't mean no one was there. All at once she could feel that a strange, cold, alien Someone was studying her.

  Oh, and it was trying to get into her mind! She sensed the tendrils of alien thought, cold as clammy wisps of mist.

  No! I won't let you in! she told the Someone fiercely. I won't!

  But how could she block it out?

  Think of something else, she told herself. Anything! Fast! Don't give the thing room to get in!

  Think of something, yes. But, what? Her thoughts were scurrying around in her mind like frightened mice!

  Songs, maybe. Yes, of course! If she could fill her mind with music, there wouldn't be room for any prying monster. Quickly Sheila started trying to remember the lyrics to every song she had ever heard.

  Oh, but she couldn't seem to think of anything except silly old nursery rhymes!

  "Mary had a little lamb, Its fleece was . . . was .

  Okay, there was no reason to panic. She'd simply try another one, that was all.

  "Rockaby baby, in the treetop . . . Uh. . . When the bough breaks, the . . . Uh .

  She couldn't remember the rest of it! Those cold wisps of mist kept creeping into her brain and confusing her.

  No! Quick, try something else!

  What, though? What?

  One times one is one, two times two is four .

  How long she kept that up, Sheila didn't know. But all of a sudden the eerie, alien pressure vanished. As she stood there shaking, panting as though she had just run a long, tough race, she heard a faint, dry whisper of a voice speaking to Kumuru.

  "That is a strange youngster," the alien voice intoned. "Strange indeed."

  "What do you mean? How strange?"

  "Strange," the whisper insisted.

  "She's just a girl, that's all," argued Kumuru impatiently. "She's flesh and blood, like everyone else. She's mortal, like everyone else. How can she be strange?"

  "Ahh . . ." It was a long, dusty sigh. "Her mind is strange."

  "What are you saying? That she's insane?"

  "Nothing
so simple." The voice paused for a long while, then sighed again. "A puzzle: The patterns of her mind, her thoughts, are like no other in this world."

  Ha, of course they're not! thought Sheila. That's because I'm not from this world!

  Kumuru was shaking his head. "I don't care about the patterns of her mind! Why won't my magic work against her?"

  "Your magic?" asked the voice.

  "Forgive me," Kumuru said quickly, but he didn't sound repentant at all. "I mean our magic, of course. The magic you so graciously lend me. The magic that isn't working! Why?"

  "Were you not listening?" Sheila thought she heard the faintest hint of anger in that dry, whispery voice. "To successfully 'work' magic over someone—as you so crudely put it—the magician must be familiar with that someone’s mind or, more precisely, with the currents of energy therein."

  Is that the way a devil talks? Sheila wondered in amazement. It doesn't sound evil at all. It sounds like a schoolteacher!

  Kumuru wasn't too happy with the lecture, either. Pacing restlessly back and forth in front of his gleaming throne, he kept interrupting with "Yes, of course," and "Go on, go on!"

  But the voice ignored him and his growing frenzy of impatience. As calmly as a professor in a lecture hall, it continued. "Normally, there is enough similarity of culture, of race, of species, for such familiarity with others' mind-energies to be an instinctive thing for a mage, no problem at all."

  "Yes, but-"

  "But in this case . . . since we you call the Dark Gods cannot fathom the patterns of this child's mind, neither we, nor, of course, you, can work any magic over her at all."

  The voice paused as though pondering an intriguing problem. Or, Sheila thought uneasily, it might have been silently communicating with the other Dark Gods—wherever they might be lurking. "We have decided," it said at last, so suddenly that Sheila jumped. "Despite the girl's youth, she can only be an accomplished sorceress. There is no other way to explain why her power is so very foreign from all else in your world."

  When Kumuru, all at once staring thoughtfully at Sheila, didn't answer, the voice prodded, "Well? Are you content? Have I your permission to depart?"