The Prophet Of Lamath

by Hughes, Robert Don

  "But Bronwynn," Pelman soothed, "you are the one who has been so insistent that we plan well before we begin! Rosha, what's your father's favorite saying about battle?" Rosha turned away from Pelman's searching eyes, and muttered, " 'If you plan it well, you can capture hell- " "And it's true," Asher broke in. He put his hand on Bronwynn's shoulder and spoke with a fatherly tone. "The Prophet is right. We really cannot go toward Dragonsgate unprepared. We will never win the battle against this hideous monster unless we-" The sound of clattering hoofbeats beyond the tent's thin walls caught the attention of everyone within. A messenger burst suddenly through the flaps.

  "What is it?" Asher demanded, for no messenger would dare enter his tent unbidden unless he heralded cried out breathlessly. "She and the ugly southerner who carries her have broken through our southern watch! They ride even now to Dragonsgate!" Asher and Pelman gaped at each other, thunderstruck. "She's going for ultimate devotion!" Asher shouted.

  "Then let's get on the road!" Pelman blurted back, and both men exited the tent at a dead run.

  Rosha, sensing freedom at last from this life of books and talk, grinned broadly. "That was fast! I wonder what made the difference?" He added this last to tease Bronwynn, who was visibly fuming. She whipped around and shoved her pretty nose into his face.

  "Don't you mean who made the difference?" She flung the book into a corner, setting the walls of the tent a-quiver, and stamped out to get ready to travel. Erri fetched the book tenderly from the comer, and patted it free of dust.

  "Do me a favor, lad," he said. "Don't anger her while she's handling the book. The next time, she'll likely aim for your head, and I'd hate to see either of you damaged." The keeper of Flayh's dungeon knocked respectfully on his master's door. He felt very out of place, and was sure his uneasiness showed. He had dwelt so many years below the surface of the earth that this height made him feel dizzy.

  "Get in!" came a muffled shout, and the keeper anxiously entered the room.

  Flayh stood by a window, gazing to the south. "My nephew Pezi will be arriving at the gate in a few moments-" "From the south?" the keeper exclaimed. "How did he avoid the drag-" He stopped. Flayh had turned to look at him, and the old merchant's facial expression had silenced him as forcefully as a scream of command.

  "Did I say that he was arriving from the south?" Flayh asked.

  "No, my Lord, but you were looking south-I just thought-" "Have I ever asked you what you were thinking?" "Ah, no-" "Then what makes you think I want to know your thoughts now?" "Nothing, my Lord." "You stink of a flower bed! Why?" "Ah, you told me to clean up, master, sir. You told me I stink, and that other soldiers would not want to stand beside me in battle-" "Other soldiers still won't stand beside you in battle! Get to the far side of the room!" The keeper hustled to obey Flayh's order, and the old merchant turned back to his window and breathed deeply. "Pezi arrives even now at the gate. He's come from the north with news of a most critical nature." Flayh turned to spear the keeper on a cold stare. "Greet him, and bring him to me immediately." "Yes, my Lord." The keeper moved swiftly to the door.

  "And, keeper." "Yes, my Lord." Flayh smiled. "Pezi has grown accustomed to preferential treatment in the court of the High Priest of Lamath. He needs to be reminded what home is like. Treat him none too gently, do you hear?" The keeper grinned. Here was the old master at last! "Yes, my Lord!" he gloated; then he disappeared into the stairwell.

  A few minutes later Pezi came hurtling into his uncle's hideaway, landing in a blubbery pile at Flayh's feet. There he cowered, expecting to be slapped or booted- or at the very least, spat on.

  "Welcome, nephew." Pezi cleared his throat. "Hello, uncle." "You may rise. Unless you like it down there." Pezi mumbled, "Thank you." He pushed himself to his feet.

  Flayh waited until his cringing nephew looked him in the face; then he smiled again. His smile, as always, made Pezi wince. "How did you find the capital of our fair land?" Flayh asked gently.

  "It was still there when I left-" Flayh chuckled. "A sensible reply, in light of present developments. Sit down, sit down, tell me of your journey." Flayh sat at his triangular table, and Pezi felt behind him for a stool and sat uneasily. Something was very wrong with Flayh, he decided. "Perhaps something is wrong with me," Flayh agreed out loud, and Pezi fell off the stool. Flayh cackled.

  "How did you-" "Read your thoughts?" Flayh laughed. "I don't know!" The old merchant laughed until tears came. Pezi retrieved the stool in the interval, and pinned it to the floor with his bottom. Flayh's chuckles subsided at one point, but began again when he caught sight of Pezi's puzzled expression. At last the old merchant grew calm. "I don't know," he repeated. "The power just comes and goes. Some days I hear nothing, I see nothing. Other days, events a hundred miles away unfold here, in this room. Where are your cousins?" The abrupt change of subject caught Pezi off guard, and as he began to stammer out some spur-of-the-moment lies, Flayh's cackling began afresh.

  "You cannot lie to me, nephew," he said merrily. "I saw the dungeon where you left them, when you left your thoughts unconcealed. Oh, yes!" he went on, "I know that you had the power to free them, but chose to leave them there!" Pezi shrank away from Flayh's bright smile. Flayh's voice softened. "It's all right, nephew. They were fools and hangers-on, and we're well rid of them." "You're not angry?" "Angry, nephew? Of course not. I'm positively pleased. I had a vision of you one day, Pezi-lying and scheming with the High Priest of Lamath-and I thought to myself, There's a chance, just a chance, that Pezi could pull this off." Flayh chuckled, and pulled his chair closer to Pezi. "Now then. The news. What's become of this Prophet fellow?" "I don't know," Pezi replied honestly. "After Asher halted his execution, they took him off to the dungeon. The city was in an uproar, and that's when I left." "Asher stayed his execution? I wonder why." "I really didn't wait around to find out, uncle. But it seems now that it must have had something to do with the dragon!" "The dragon, yes-" Flayh said to himself, and he walked to the southern window again and gazed up at Dragonsgate. "I've seen the twi-beast in the air a dozen times in the last week, but he has yet to touch this place." "The rest of Lamath should be so lucky!" "Why? What did you see?" "Blackened fields-whole gardens of vegetables burned beyond-" "Enough about vegetables," Flayh said curtly, waving his hand as if to knock the thought away. He continued to gaze southward. "I had worried that this Prophet might be some threat to our security until the dragon went on this rampage. But since we dwell in the shadow of Dragonsgate, I doubt a soul in northern Lamath will concern himself with our little villa now." "I wish I felt so secure," Pezi muttered. "Pelman has been an enemy for so long-" "Pelman!" Flayh was staring at Pezi, hard. "Who said anything about Pelman!" The old Flayh was visible in the merchant's scowl, and Pezi began to tremble.

  "Why, you. I mean, didn't you? I thought, I assumed, that-" "Speak up!" Flayh screamed, and Pezi spoke rapidly.

  "I assumed you knew the Prophet was Pelman! Oh, please, Uncle Flayh, I didn't realize-" "Silence!" Flayh screamed again, and a hush settled over the tower chamber. Flayh jerked around and looked once more to the south, and Pezi heard him breathe again, "Pelman." Pezi marveled at Flayh's tone. Was it envy he heard? Why would Flayh envy anyone, especially this dangerous vagabond? Or was that a tone of respect? Ridiculous. Flayh honored nothing and no one. Fear, then? Well they might fear Pelman, Pezi thought, for the powershaper-turned-Prophet had built enormous influence among the populace of this sizable nation, even if he had stirred the wrath of the majority. But it really wasn't fear he had heard in Flayh's voice. Flayh seemed to have some sense of longing, as if- "Not yet," Flayh suddenly announced, and Pezi stared at him in bewilderment. "I am not ready-yet. I'd sooner face the dragon." "Pardon me, uncle, but I don't know what you are talking about." "Don't unpack your things, Pezi. I want you to be ready to leave at a moment's summons." "But where-" "Should Pelman pursue you here, he will not find you or me. I'll watch the northern mouth. When the dragon ventures out of his lair again, we start." Pezi blanched. "To-to tr
y to pass Dragonsgate? While the dragon is a-burning?" "At the present, nephew, I would rather face this dragon than Pelman. Get out! I need to think this through." "We'll try to pass Dragonsgate while the beast is gone?" "Did I not tell you to get out?" Flayh asked.

  "But what if he returns while we're crossing?" Pezi asked. His round face had turned the color of an eggshell. "What then?" Flayh stared out at the mountains, painted now in stark silhouette by the fading light of the sunset. "Leave the dragon to me, nephew. That day may be one when I have my abilities about me-and I'll show Vicia-Heinox some illusions that will set his two heads spinning!" Pezi left the room, his hands trembling and his knees weak. He didn't know what chilled him most-the thought of meeting Vicia-Heinox again, or Flayh's parting smirk. The old man was definitely crazy.

  Chapter Sixteen

  THE WIND whistled around them, and Serphimera had to shout to make herself heard above the noise. "Why aren't we turning south?" "Leave the navigation to me. Lady," Admon Faye yelled back as he urged their pony on with a boot to its flanks. "I got you past the soldiers, didn't I?" "I don't question your cunning, Admon Faye, but neither do I trust it. I chose you to bring me to Lord Dragon because of your efficiency in dealing with enemies, but you have given me cause to doubt the sincerity of your devotion!" "When we get to Dragonsgate, you'll see who I'm devoted to!" Admon Faye yelled back. He was being honest, if unpleasantly so.

  Serphimera had good reason to question Admon Faye's motivation in making this trip. They had been within sight of the pass for days, but the slaver had chosen to take them through the dry hills at its base in a zigzagging path that seemed to lead them no closer to it. A dozen times she had felt that they were clearly aiming for the pass, but then, in the name of avoiding Asher's soldiers, the ugly slaver would backtrack away again.

  "And when will we get to Dragonsgate?" she demanded.

  "When the soldiers aren't blocking the road," Admon Faye growled. That was a lie. They would get to the pass just moments before Pelman arrived there, if he had his way. Days before, he had purposely revealed himself and his celebrated passenger to a small troop of Lamathian warriors, then had easily given them the slip-all merely to draw Pelman to Dragonsgate. Admon Faye had uncovered something in Serphimera she hadn't realized was there, and he wagered that Pelman felt the same.

  "Love the Prophet? Me? Ridiculous!" the woman snorted whenever he brought it up. But there was something there. Admon Faye could sense it, just as he could sense the whereabouts of fools in the forest at night. "You're badly mistaken!" Serphimera would scream. "Ride on! Faster!" "Just why do we ride at all, my Lady?" he often smirked. "Is it to the dragon we're racing? Or just away from Pelman?" "The pass is just above us!" she pleaded now in his ear. "Take us into it!" "Tomorrow, my Lady," Admon Faye told her, and this time he really meant it. In their weavings and wanderings that day, he had spotted Pelman and his entourage far below them. "Tomorrow you'll meet your lover-whoever he may be." They sat encamped on the north-mouth field, at the foot of Dragonsgate. Serphimera had not been apprehended, but she and Admon Faye had been spotted that very morning in the foothills above them. Pelman sat on a rock, talking to the Power.

  "I'm assuming there is some reason for all of this," he said, and a breeze came up and blew tangles in his hair. "The girl is a Queen now, of course. She needs someone to win her back her throne." Still the breeze blew. "But I suppose Rosha will do that for her." The night was passing by quickly. Soon the rocky teeth of the Spinal Range would be visible against the sun's first glow. "The boy needs more teaching. Who else is capable of taking him in hand?" The breeze died away, fading slowly into stillness. "Yet he's already a hero. A bear's-bane-battled Admon Faye and survived-what further need has he of me?" More time passed. "What about Serphimera? Someone has to protect her from her own zealous nature!" There was a stillness in the air-the kind of stillness possible only on the desert. "But Asher would willingly accept that assignment. And she'll certainly never listen tome." The sky turned purple, and then pale blue, before Pelman spoke again. "All right," he said. He held in his mind a picture of the dragon tearing him in two, and gave assent to it. "All right." "I thought I might find you here." Pelman jerked up. It was Asher, come to join him in his sleepless deliberations. "You should be in bed," Pelman said, unconsciously rubbing his injured shoulder.

  "I couldn't sleep, any more than you could. I've tossed and turned all night, thinking of dragons and death. I could wait for you no longer. Prophet, please- do you have any plan?" Pelman licked his lips. "I think so." Then he looked at Asher. "But I don't think you're going to like it any' more than I do." The sun came on up before the two men left the field. They were welcomed back to camp by silent, anxious faces. They planned throughout the early morning. Then, by noon, they were ready to march on the hell of an occupied Dragonsgate.

  "What if he's here? What if he's here?" "Whine that once more, nephew, and I'll have you barbecued when we reach Tohn's keep!" "If I'm not barbecued before we reach Tohn's keep." Pezi shuddered.

  They were climbing the last incline into Dragonsgate itself. In a moment they would turn the comer, and they would know at last if Vicia-Heinox were at home.

  He was.

  "He's here!" Pezi moaned, very near tears.

  "Don't you think I can see that?" Flayh snapped.

  The dragon, exhausted by his constant travel, had been sleeping. Now one long neck uncurled from the gigantic, scaly ball of his body and craned down to look at these two tiny intruders. "Wake up, Vicia," said Heinox.

  The other head did not open its eyes, but answered, "I would think, after all this time, that you would know that when you wake up, I have to wake up too." "Then get up and come look. We have visitors." "Human visitors?" "That's right." "Ridiculous. No human has come near us in days." Vicia snuggled down into the curve of their tail. "You've been dreaming. Come on, let's go back to sleep." Heinox leaned down and nipped the exposed end of their tail, feeling that the shock of pain was well worth the aggravation it would cause his other half.

  "Why did you do that?" Vicia roared, suddenly wide awake and thirty feet in the air.

  "Look," Heinox said calmly, and Vicia saw Flayh and Pezi cowering next to the rocky wall of the canyon.

  "There really are humans in the pass!" "I don't lie." "It's just difficult to imagine any human being that stupid. Should we bum them, or do you need a light snack? You could have the fat one-" "The fat one is Pezi, isn't it?" "Pezi?" Vicia bent down to investigate, stopping two feet from the shaking merchant's face. Then he lifted back up to speak with Heinox. "It is Pezi. Do you want to eat him or shall I?" "Uncle Flayh?" Pezi stammered. "Ah-were there some-ah-tricks you were going to use?" "I'm trying to remember how they go-" Pezi groaned loudly.

  "What did you say?" Heinox asked, coming down out of the heavens to look at Flayh.

  "I said, 'Let us pass!' I am a merchant, as is my nephew! I am a member of the Council of Elders of the merchant families! Our organization has a long-established tradition of service to your Dragonship, which it would not be in your best interests to end." Vicia looked at Heinox. "He talks like a merchant. Let's see how he tastes." Flayh stumbled backward in shock.

  "What my other head is trying to say," Heinox explained, "is that we no longer wish to maintain any relationship with humankind, except that relationship dictated by our stomach." He was moving closer and closer to Flayh, who suddenly waved his hands in the air and shouted some gibberish.

  T The heads looked at one another, then both slid in closer to the two merchants, pinning them against the cliff face.

  "Was that one of your tricks?" Pezi whimpered, his disappointment very much in evidence in his voice.

  "I'm afraid so." "Did it work?" "Does it look like it worked?" Pezi stared up into those approaching jaws and was saying his good-byes to life, when Flayh finally lost his temper. He threw his hands into the air and screamed a series of curses so foul they would have curled the toenails of a troll. Then a most spectacular event took pl
ace. A gigantic ball of very white-hot light exploded in the dragon's two faces, and suddenly Vicia-Heinox was blind. So was Pezi.

  "What was that? What happened? Where's the light? Am I dead?" "Come on, you fool!" Flayh shouted, and he grabbed the reins of Pezi's pony from the fat man's hands and led his nephew's mount into Ngandib-Mar at a gallop.

  No one was more surprised than Flayh himself-he had worked on that trick in his study for weeks, with little sign of success. But there would be plenty of time to give a logical explanation of his achievement once they were safe. What was needed now was a place to hide, for the flash would not blind the beast forever. All of the woods had been burned off the mountains. They broke out onto the plain and turned sharply to the north. As they rode for their lives, they heard Vicia-Heinox scream behind them in frustration.

  Admon Faye heard that chilling scream above them, and for the first time in many years his courage faltered. He stopped the pony.

  "Go on!" wailed Serphimera. "What kind of a devotee are you? Go on! We're almost there, can't you see?" The Priestess was pounding on his back and pointing past his ear to the summit. She had worked herself into a frenzy of fear and excitement, and her voice was raspy from her constant screaming.