The Prophet Of Lamath

by Hughes, Robert Don

  At last Admon Faye kicked the pony and urged it upward, but not from any sense of devotion. He could hear Pelman coming in the pass below them.

  As he guided the pony over the top of the climb and into the heart of the pass, Admon Faye was analyzing options. His hunch had proved right. He had lured Pelman to Dragonsgate, and with him the Princess Bronwynn. That he had succeeded in killing them both thereby was a foregone conclusion. What wasn't so clear was how he was to survive, himself, to enjoy the rewards Ligne would heap upon him. His eyes were open wide to every possibility as they entered the presence of the dragon. How pleased Admon Faye was to find that the dragon's eyes weren't open at all! "You fool!" Vicia trumpeted. "You bumbling, scaly fool! Why do you continue to crash into me!" "For the same reason, apparently, that you keep ramming me!" Heinox roared back. "Because I can't see a thing!" Serphimera was trembling with anticipation as she fought to free herself from the saddle. Admon Faye caught her under her arm and ungently assisted her dismount-he flung her into the dust. There she crawled toward the arguing beast on hands and knees as Admon Faye spurred his horse past the dragon and rode hard into the steep southern mouth of the pass.

  "Who's there! Someone's there! Show yourself to me, or I'll burn you away!" It was Vicia who shouted this, and therefore it was to Vicia that the quivering Priestess addressed her pleas. "Oh Lord Dragon, please accept my ultimate devotion! I've labored long and diligently for you! Now I ask that you receive me to your bosom as a pure and final sacrifice!" "What?" Vicia asked, waving his head from side to side as if that would restore his sight. "Who are you?" "She's obviously one of your silly followers! Can't you tell that by her syrupy drivel?" Heinox was shaking his long neck. It seemed the bright spot in the center of his vision was fading.

  Serphimera looked up at Vicia-Heinox in confusion. This was Lord Dragon, burner of cities, shatterer of lies, the god of her girlhood! This awesome master was all powerful, and yet-blind? Arguing? Divided? It couldn't be! "Lord Dragon is testing me!" she cried out, and she threw her hands up across her face and began to chant the creed. It was in this position Pelman found her when, a moment later, he and his followers came clattering into the pass.

  "Serphimera!" he called, and he swung himself down from Minaliss with his good hand and ran to grab her around the waist.

  "What-what are you doing?" she gasped as he dragged her back and away.

  "I'm trying to save you from being eaten!" "But I want to be eaten! Let me go!" Serphimera jerked his hand to her mouth and bit down on it, hard.

  "Who's there?" Heinox roared. His head whipped around the dragon's body, a clear indication of his panic. Was he surrounded by humans whom he couldn't see? "Who's there?" he screamed again.

  Pelman sucked on his wounded hand for a moment, but swiftly shot it out to jerk Serphimera back again when she tried to run for the beast. "What's wrong with the dragon?" "He's pretending to be blind to test me!" Serphimera snarled as she struggled to free herself from his grip. "Let go! I must make the ultimate devotion!" "You're going to stay right here!" Without considering the impropriety of his action, Pelman tripped Serphimera back into the dust and sat on her. Then he motioned Rosha toward Ngandib-Mar. "Do it! Do it now!" "Your Dragonship!" Rosha shouted as he ran to get behind Vicia-Heinox. "Your Dragonship!" he repeated when the beast seemed not to hear. One head slipped up and over the dragon's back to try to peer into Rosha's face. Suddenly, the boy was shaken by the enormity of it all. His memorized speech stuck in his throat, as he stared up at those gigantic jaws.

  Pelman bit his lip and struggled to keep his perch on Serphimera's back. He ached for the boy, as a director sweats and stews when his star actor is in trouble. Pelman had originally intended Rosha's part for himself, but Asher and the others had refused to allow him to play it. Someone would have to do some very careful swordwork for the plan to succeed, and they argued that Pelman's dislocated shoulder eliminated him from consideration. Outvoted by all involved, the Prophet had finally, unwillingly, acquiesced. Now he devoutly wished that he had stood firm in his resolve to do it himself.

  "Who is it?" Heinox bellowed. Then abruptly the beast's voice softened, and he shouted gleefully, "It's a lad! I can see him, it's a lad!" Then Heinox remembered-he was surrounded by humans. "What are you doing here, boy?" he growled.

  "I'm n-not a boy, your D-d-dragonship-" "Then what are you?" asked Heinox. "Before being killed and eaten, of course." Pelman had prepared him for such threats, and the young warrior's courage was returning. He found his ever-hesitant tongue. "Do I have the honor of addressing Vicia or Heinox?" "I'm Heinox-" "That is indeed splendid, for it is you, Heinox, that I have come to serve!" The dragon blinked. "What?" Rosha launched into his memorized speech: "What lad of the Mar has not heard of the powerful Heinox, who sensibly regards himself as first and foremost a dragon, and never stoops to believe himself a god? What lad of the Mar, having heard that Heinox needed a champion, would turn his back on so wondrous a vocation? I have come, your Dragonship, in answer to your call, to accept that challenge to serve you. I will be your representative in battle against the odious Vicia!" "The what?" asked another voice menacingly, and Rosha turned around to see that Vicia was behind him-and that Vicia, too, could see.

  "The odious Vicia!" Rosha replied, hoping that the dragon would not ask him to explain. Odious was Pelman's word, not his. He didn't know its meaning-just that it was bad.

  Vicia evidently knew the meaning, for he howled angrily, and darted down to swallow Rosha whole. Heinox knocked him aside.

  "You shall not swallow my champion." Vicia stared at Heinox, startled. Then he groaned. "Heinox! We agreed days ago that we would never again side with men against one another!" "I've changed my mind." "We have already been made into fools by one man today! Will you make us fools again?" "I will not allow you to eat this lad! He's my champion. If anyone eats him, I will." Pelman was nodding vigorously now at Asher. It was his cue. Asher strutted forward, cutting a splendid figure in a cherry-red robe, a startling change from his usual uniform of dark blue. Only Pelman wore blue today . . . though Bronwynn and Asher and Erri had all pleaded with him to change his mind. "Vicia!" Asher called. "I must speak to the head named Vicia!" "I am Vicia!" "Perhaps you do not remember me, for when we met I was otherwise attired. But you sought that day for a champion, wishing to set my army against Talith's." "You!" Vicia fumed. "You abandoned me!" "My army abandoned you, but not I! I have returned, my Lord Dragon, to defend you against this impostor head who refuses to acknowledge your divinity!" "My divinity?" Vicia snorted softly, and once again the dragon's vanity took control.

  "The dragon is not divine, as the sensible Heinox knkn-kn-" Rosha's face froze into an expression of panic. Pelman jerked at the sound of that unfaithful tongue's betrayal, and Serphimera used the distraction to roll him off and claw her way to her feet.

  "What?" Heinox suddenly bellowed, looking closely at his stammering champion.

  Asher rushed into his next line, attempting to cover Rosha's stumble. "Not divine? Not divine? Who is this that blasphemes the Lord Dragon?" He played his part to the hilt. He had been too long in politics not to have a bit of the actor in him.

  But Heinox had noticed. "It's a stuttering, spluttering boy who speaks, that's who! And you would fight for me? You can't even talk for me!" Rosha's temper exploded. He jerked his greatsword from its scabbard and charged at the dragon, swinging wildly. Only one thing could save him.

  That was Pelman's voice. It lifted above the din, so golden, so commanding, that it couldn't help but claim the absolute attention of all the host gathered in Dragonsgate.

  "Of course he can't, and wise of you to realize it! Only the quicker of the two heads would be capable of seeing through my little ruse! Please excuse our tasteless joke, noble Heinox-I am your true champion!" Vicia turned to look at Heinox, and Heinox at Vicia, and both bent back again to peer down at Pelman. They knew this voice. Oh, how well they knew it! "You are the Pelman!" Vicia snarled.

  "You are
the cursed Player who caused us all our troubles!" Heinox screeched.

  "Of course I am! I'm Pelman the player, come to finish the job I started! For Heinox, surely you cannot believe that it was better when you were nothing but half of a dragon?" "I will chop you in half!" Vicia rasped, and he darted down at Pelman with the speed of a comet.

  Heinox, however, was faster. They cracked their heads five feet above Pelman's scalp.

  "Oh!" Vicia groaned, enraged. "Why do you do that to me? Why do you always do that?" Heinox snorted. "He was starting to make sense." "Don't listen to him, Lord Dragon!" Serphimera raced to clasp her arms around a single talon of the dragon's vast foot. As she clung to her god, she cried out in despair, "It's a trap! A trap designed to destroy you!" Pelman's brow creased in concern. A flick of his claw, and Vicia-Heinox could halve Serphimera. He raised his voice in raucous laughter. "Obviously, Heinox, this woman is nothing but another of Vicia's religious dupes!" Asher sprang forward, ad-libbing earnestly to keep the plan alive. "You blaspheme the dragon!" "I blaspheme him, if so you wish to call it!" Pelman shot back, picking up the cue. "I will not believe the dragon is a god! The dragon is and shall ever be a dragon!" The two men began trading insults. As they shouted, Bronwynn and Erri raced to the dragon's feet and dragged a kicking, cursing priestess back out of danger.

  Throughout this exchange, Vicia-Heinox sat back on his hind legs and watched in amazement. Old tensions re-awoke in the beast, old insults were remembered. Pride and selfishness resurfaced in each mind, until once again the two heads hated one another, and these puny men in the dirt below became living symbols of their rivalry. And these two symbols were mortal.

  "Fight!" screamed Vicia.

  "Kill him!" roared Heinox. Asher grabbed for his scabbard, and Pelman seized Rosha's greatsword. The blades flashed into the sunlight.

  Serphimera broke loose from her captors long enough to shout, "I've seen your end, Pelman! I know your doom!" Then they caught her again, and Erri clapped his hands over her mouth. But it was enough.

  How will it come? Pelman wondered to himself. Then he wondered no more. There was only time to fight, and a greatsword was not a one-handed weapon.

  The two antagonists exchanged a flurry of blows, and Vicia-Heinox was frothing with excitement. It appeared that the dragon was trying to pull himself apart, for Heinox craned all the way around behind Pelman and Vicia lined up behind Asher. Both heads cheered and hollered until the canyon rang with the clamor. Suddenly Pelman jumped back, and held up his sword.

  "A word with Heinox!" he cried, and Heinox immediately swept in front of him. Pelman's heart pounded as he spoke his final lines. "My liege, this will not do. We wrestle in the dust as two lads. Champions must be mounted!" "Then mount your steeds! Mount your steeds!" Heinox shouted.

  "My liege, the champions of Kings ride horses. For a champion of the dragon, that is simply not enough." "Then what? What would you ride?" "You, my liege." The idea struck Vicia-Heinox with the thunder of destiny. In both of his personalities the dragon saw in this the ultimate answer he had been seeking for weeks. "Done!" Heinox trumpeted aloud, and Vicia chorused, "Done!" If Heinox had a chin, it was buried in the dirt as Pelman climbed aboard the head. There were ridges along both sides of the huge skull, and he gripped these with his knees as the giant neck whooshed him into the air. Pelman grabbed hold for his life, and stared in shock at the tiny figures of Rosha and Bronwynn forty feet below him. His head was spinning, but he closed his eyes and fought to relax. When he opened them again, it was to watch Asher ascending into the sky on Vicia's back.

  But something was different about Asher now. Pelman's mouth fell open as he realized what it was. Asher had torn his brilliant red robe from his body. Visible now was the garment he had worn beneath it all the way from Lamath-a flowing robe of vivid sky blue.

  "No!" Pelman shouted, but. the shout was torn away by the whistling wind, for Heinox was hurtling him toward Asher much faster than he had ever traveled before.

  "Fight!" Heinox roared as the two champions whisked past each other without crossing swords, and Vicia echoed, "Fight!" Pelman saw Asher's face as it flashed by-the man seemed frozen to his perch. He had replaced his sword in its scabbard, and now clung with both hands to the ridges along Vicia's head.

  "Fight for me!" Heinox screamed again as they made another pass.

  Pelman called out, "Draw your sword, Lamathian coward!" But this time Pelman saw Asher's eyes as well as his face. There was nothing there but death.

  Asher rode astride Lord Dragon. He rode a beast he had worshipped throughout his life. He wore a gown Pelman had believed would doom him-and his mission was to kill the most frightening beast known to man.

  Asher had conquered whole nations for his King. He had killed hundreds on the battlefields. He had directed the movements of thousands of men, while his resolve and courage never wavered.

  But this was no mere army to be conquered, no mere nation to be defeated. This was Vicia-Heinox. He rode Lord Dragon. And Asher acknowledged again a simple basic truth. One cannot slough off a lifetime of conviction without any trace of guilt. It just wasn't that easy. The residue of fear remained.

  "Fight me, Asher! You have to fight me!" Pelman was yelling himself hoarse. The dragon would soon grow weary of waving its necks without seeing any action. They had to cross swords at the very least. "Asher, please! Fight me!" he yelled again, and the General seemed to wake. The blue-clad warrior at last pulled his weapon free, and the next time they passed the two swords clashed together. Vicia-Heinox was excited beyond measure.

  Again they clashed, as the dragon's necks laced in and out. Pelman was forced to grip the ridges with his good hand to keep from being tossed a hundred feet into the air. His knees were being rubbed raw, and his thighs were cramping.

  "Now, Pelman!" Bronwynn screamed. "Now!" Now it must be, Pelman thought to himself. He shifted his position to get a firmer leg-lock on Heinox' head, and painfully gripped his sword in both hands. Then he leaned down and spoke to Heinox. "Come in very close. Hold me close, and we will end this battle in a stroke!" Heinox swooped down and back up, then jerked in beside Vicia and hung there. Tightly gripping the haft of his greatsword, Pelman rammed the point home. But not in Asher. He slammed his sword deep into Vicia's right eye.

  Heinox jerked back with an agonized scream, and Pelman clung to his sword to pull it free. As long as he lived, he would never forget the look he saw on Asher's face. It was a crazy smile, a lost smile, a smile of victory and a smile of good-bye. In anguish beyond anything he had ever known, Vicia tossed Asher high into the air and caught him by the leg, as if he were but a diamond from a long-forgotten game.

  Heinox screamed too, for the pain was torture to him as well as to Vicia. "You have killed us!" Heinox roared, and he tried to toss Pelman as Asher had been tossed. The Prophet-player clamped his blood-soaked blade between his teeth and clung desperately to the dragon's head. He stayed on.

  Serphimera screamed and Pelman wept as both watched the fulfillment of the Priestess' vision. Heinox gripped Asher's free leg between his giant jaws, and Vicia-Heinox tore the General apart. Shreds of blue cloth fluttered to the ground, and Asher was gone.

  Pelman's palms were wet with sweat, and the knobby ridges along the dragon's skull were getting slippery. He would never withstand another attempted tossing. As Heinox screamed out a lament for his own lost life, Pelman let go and jerked his sword from his mouth. He reversed its blade to stab downward, took a deep. breath, and plunged it home, this time in Heinox' eye. Then he clung to its pommel with both hands, as the new spasm of pain rocketed through the monster. Vicia-Heinox shivered from his heads to his tail, and Pelman was thrown from his seat.

  It seemed then that everyone was screaming, except him. He was tossed from side to side and up and down, but the blade stayed fixed in the dragon's eye and his hands stayed closed on the handle. Suddenly the wind around him increased to such a roar that he knew he must be blown off, but he clenched his eyes shut and
held on. When he opened them again, he was hundreds of feet above the ground. The dragon had taken to the air.

  The pass filled with swirling dust as the beating wings launched the dragon skyward. Bronwynn fell to her knees, trembling. The dragon cleared the top of the cliffs and disappeared from view, and she buried her face in her hands, fearing that if she watched she would see her master tumble to his death.

  Vicia-Heinox twisted onto its back, and Pelman shouted in anguish as he felt himself fly loose and begin to fall. Though his left shoulder still burned with pain^ he ignored the feeling as he threw his arms wide apart and began to chant.

  Whether he was in that moment the powershaper summoning the wind, or the anointed Prophet of the Power and beneficiary of its grace, not even Pelman knew. But something wondrous happened. As the pass filled with screams, there was a sudden, deafening roll of thunder that threw everyone to the dirt. Those who managed to peer up through the choking dust saw a sight they would never forget. Pelman's swiftly falling figure suddenly floated upward-like a feather caught in a draft.

  "Pelman?" Pelman chuckled. "Not again. You mean I'm still alive?" His eyes fluttered open. There was Bronwynn, looking anxiously down at him. "How?" "Don't you remember?" she asked, puzzled. "You did it!" "Did I?" he said. His head was clearing, and he sat up. "The dragon?" Bronwynn waved her hand, and Pelman rolled over to look in that direction. Fifty feet away lay a lifeless mountain of scales. Vicia-Heinox was dead. Pelman could hear someone weeping. When the lady shouted, he recognized her voice. It was Serphimera.