by Allan Cole
He slipped behind his desk and retrieved the little book from beneath his notes. It was an old book, curled and dry and quite small-no bigger than a man's hand. It was a master wizard's book of dreams.
The musings of Lord Asper, who was perhaps the greatest wizard in all history. Asper had lived long ago and in his old age had started recording his thoughts and discoveries. The old demon's writing was so small that Safar found it more comfortable to use a glass to read. There was no order to the book, making it even more difficult for the reader. A theoretical phrase or two about the possibilities of mechanical flight might find itself on the same page as an elaborate magical formula whose only purpose was to keep moths away from a good wool cloak.
Maddening as it was, all that was known about the world was contained between its brittle covers. And all that wasn't cried for recognition's ink.
Safar opened the book at random. On one page was a large sketch of the world-showing the two halves of the globe in a split ball. The four major land masses were inked in, but as actual formations, rather than the usual stylized maps of Safar's time that showed the turtle gods carrying the lands across the sea. The names of the continents were inked below each drawing. Floating in the Middle Sea was Esmir, the land where Safar lived. To the north was Aroborus, to the south, Raptor. Last of all was Hadin, on the other side of the world-directly opposite Esmir.
Hadin, land of the fires, the place where Safar believed the great disaster that was slowly consuming the world had begun.
He had seen Hadin in a vision long ago-handsome people dancing on an enchanted island under a threatening volcano. The volcano erupting, hurling flame and death. The dancing people were gone in the first few moments, but the volcano continued to spew huge poisonous clouds charged with such magical power that it had seared Safar through the vision. Since that time nothing in the world had been the same.
And it was Safar's obsession and self-sworn duty to somehow unravel the mystery of Hadin and halt the disaster.
Asper had seen the same disaster, not as it was happening, but in a vision hundreds of years before the incident. The coming death of the world-no matter that it was far in the future-so disturbed the old demon that he had made an abrupt shift in all his thinking. It was as if a blindfold had been lifted from eyes, he wrote, and suddenly "Truth was lies/and lies were truth…"
It was then that Asper began the greatest work of his life. Old age sapping his strength, bitter realizations stalking his dreams, he raced against Death's imminent arrival in an ultimately futile effort to solve the riddle that was the coming end of the world.
Near the end, during a moment of great despair, he had written:
Wherein my heart abides
This dark-horsed destiny I ride?
Hooves of steel, breath of fire-
Soul's revenge, or heart's desire?
Not first for the first time, Safar wondered what particular incident had caused Asper to write such a thing. After long study it was plain that Asper faced much opposition at the end of his life. He was speaking heresy after all. Uncaring gods asleep in their heavenly bower. A world doomed. And the greatest heresy of all-that humans and demons were not so different. He even speculated that the two species, who were historic enemies, were originally twins-the opposite sides of a single connubial coin.
Safar was both a wizard and a potter. The wizardly side of him tended to question everything. The potter's side demanded practical proof as well. He still had many questions about Asper's theories. But as far as practical proof went, he only had to look at Palimak, a child of the two species. What greater proof could one need to show that demons and humans had once supped the milk of a common mother?
Like Safar, Lord Asper had been forced to flee his enemies. Unlike Safar he had no home to return to and had wandered the world for nearly twenty years. Before he died-Safar guessed he lived nearly three hundred years, ancient even for a demon-Asper had visited all four continents and had made notes and drawings of his experiences and conclusions. In Aroborus, for instance, he spoke of trees that ate meat and could uproot themselves to chase down and trap their prey. On Raptor, Asper said, there was a strange birdlike creature that was nearly twelve feet high. It couldn't fly and hunted in packs, cornering its victims to hammer them down with huge, ax-shaped beaks. On Hadin Asper told of a once great civilization containing both humans and demons that had destroyed itself in a religious war so fierce only barbarians remained among the ruins.
It was at this point that the riddle of Asper truly began. The old wizard had suddenly, and without explanation, left Hadin. There was a great gap in months, possibly even in years, between the time of his flight-Safar guessed he was escaping something-and his arrival at a small island in the Caspan Sea about two hundred miles off the coast of Esmir. The island, Safar learned from his research, was the mythical birthplace of Alisarrian The Conqueror, who had welded demons and humans together under one rule many centuries before.
Safar eyed the brandy jug, sighed, then turned back to the book. Once again he looked at the small map of the world. And once again he traced the lines showing Asper's travels. His flight from Esmir to Hadin and back. Beneath the map was a tiny sketch of the island where Asper ended his days.
The island's name, scrawled in red ink, was Syrapis.
Musing, Safar said the name aloud-"Syrapis." Then, "I wonder what Asper sought there?"
Suddenly his fingers itched with a powerful desire to touch the drawing of the island-a need as strong as a thirsty man's obsession for water. His fingertips touched the paper and a surge of energy flowed up his arm.
There was a boom! of distant thunder and a sharp crack! of lightning quite near.
Suddenly all was blackness and his hair rose up on prickling roots.
CHAPTER THREE
THE WIZARD'S TOMB
Safar felt a great force seize him, lift him up, then hurl him away.
He flew through darkness-so far he lost all sense of motion and direction. Then he was falling, plunging, an eerie voice whispering in his ear, "Down and down and down. Down, and down and down…"
And then he just … stopped!
There was nothing between the two feelings of falling and stopping. One moment his insides were rising up and the next moment he felt hard ground under his feet and the comforting sensation of weight. Still, all remained blackness and he had no idea where he was. All he knew was that it was someplace hot and dank. Perspiration flooded from his pores, soaking his clothes. Under his feet, still shod in slippers, he could feel heat rising from the rocky floor. And then far off he thought he heard the sound of dripping water and he wondered if he might be underground.
He stayed quite still, trying to get his bearings. As he was about to probe the darkness with his wizard's senses he suddenly heard rustling all around him-like dry insect wings. He also heard whispering, or at least what he thought was whispering-he couldn't make out the words.
Then he heard, quite clearly: "Sisters! Sisters!"
The voice was like sand polishing glass. Keeping his head motionless, Safar forced his eyes toward the source of the sound. He saw two large red holes burning through the darkness-floating a good ten feet above the ground.
It spoke again-"Sisters! Awake, sisters!"
The voice came from just below the red holes. Safar's heart quickened as he realized they were huge eyes and the voice was likely coming from an equally enormous mouth.
Then someone, or something, answered, "I hear, sister!"
The words had the same sand against glass sound to them. But harsher. And he realized the voice was coming from directly above him! It was all Safar could do not to look up.
Others answered: "I hear! I hear! I hear!"
The voices came from every direction and the darkness bloomed with a ghastly garden of many glowing red eyes.
Then the first voice said, "I smell a human!"
A harsh chorus answered, "Where? Where, sister, where?"
"Here wit
h us!" was the reply.
Horrid shrieks filled the air: "Kill him, kill the human, kill him!"
Talons and scaly bodies scraped against stone, heavy wings flapped from above and there was a great gnashing of teeth. Burning eyes rushed about like huge fireflies fleeing an oncoming storm. Safar needed no magical help to keep absolutely still in that chaos of hatred. His blood turned to ice, his heart to stone and his breath fled from him like an escaping ghost.
Then he realized they couldn't see him. The realization was small comfort, especially when next he heard a shout:
"Silence, sisters!"
It was the first voice, the commanding voice. And it got the silence it demanded.
A pause, then, "Where are you human? Show yourself!"
Safar had the sudden hysterical desire to laugh. It hit him so quickly it was all he could do to bite it off.
Show himself? Did she think he was insane?
She also must have thought he was deaf as well, because she said, "You have nothing to fear from us, human! We like humans, don't we sisters?"
"Yes, yes, yes," came the chorused reply. "We like humans. We like them all!"
"We would never hurt a human, would we sisters?"
"Never hurt, never, never!"
Silenced followed, as if the creatures were waiting for Safar's answer.
When it didn't come, the commanding voice said, "You are insulting us, human! You should speak and show us your trust. Speak now, or we will forget our love of all things human. You will suffer greatly for angering us."
Another long pause, then Safar heard: "Sisters! I think I smell him over here!"
The voice came from quite near. Safar heard heavy talons rattle on stone and a snuffling sound, like a large beast following a strong scent. He knew he had to do something quickly before he was found.
The idea jumped up at him and he knew he couldn't wait and think it through, because with thought would come fear and fear's hesitation would be the end of him. He made a spell and clapped his hands together and roared:
"Light!"
And light blasted in from all sides, nearly knocking him over with the sudden shock of it. He had been blinded by darkness before, now he was blinded by its white-hot opposite. There were awful screams of pain all around and then his vision cleared and the first thing he saw ripped his breath from his body.
The beast towered above him, enormous corpse-colored wings unfolded like a bat's. It had the stretched out torso of a woman with long thin arms and legs that ended in taloned claws. There was no hair on its skull-like head and instead of a nose there were only nostril holes on a flat face shaped like a shovel.
Safar nearly jumped away, but then he realized the creature was too busy screaming in pain and clawing at its eyes to be a threat.
He was in an enormous vaulted room, filled with blazing colors. Great columns, red and blue and green, climbed toward glaring light then disappeared beyond. The room was filled with hundreds of death-white creatures, some crouched on the floor howling pain, others hanging bat-like from long stanchions coming out of the columns. They twisted and screamed, horrid flags of misery blowing in a devil wind of conjured light.
Safar spotted the one he wanted. Again he shouted, his magically amplified voice thundering over the wails.
"SILENCE!"
The shrieks and screams cut off at his command, and now there was only moaning and harsh pleas for
"Mercy, brother, mercy!"
Safar paced forward, moving through the writhing bodies until he came to the throne. It looked a great pile of bones-arms and legs and torsos and skulls stacked in the shape of an enormous winged chair. As he came closer he saw the bones were carved from white stone. The creature who commanded that grisly throne was like the others, except much larger. A red metal band encircled her bony skull to make a crown. Unlike the others, however, the creature was silent and although she was hunched over, claws covering her eyes, she made no outward show of pain.
Safar stopped at the throne and said loudly for all to hear: "Are you queen to this mewling lot?"
"Yes, I am queen. Queen Charize." As she answered she couldn't help but raise her royal head, carefully keeping her eyes shielded. "I command here."
"You command nothing," Safar replied, voice echoing throughout the chamber, "except what I, Lord Timura of Kyrania, might permit."
Queen Charize said nothing.
"Do you understand me?" Safar demanded.
He made a motion and the light became brighter still. The creatures shrieked as their pain intensified.
Even the queen could not stop a low moan escaping through her clenched lips.
"Yes," she gasped, "I understand."
"Yes, Master," Safar corrected her. "You will address me as Master."
The queen gritted her fangs in protest, but she got it out: "Yes … Master!"
Safar motioned and the light diminished. There were gasps of relief as he dimmed it until the room was merely a soft glow. But no one rose or uncovered her eyes. Dim as the light was, it was still too painful for the sisters of darkness to bear. He could also smell the fear in them. They knew that if their new master was threatened, he could instantly retaliate.
To make certain, Safar said, "You may be queen here, but that doesn't mean you actually have wits to rule elsewhere." Queen Charize hissed indignation. Safar laughed to grind in the humiliation. "Hiss all you like," he said. "Just so long as we understand each other. I've already formed a spell that will turn you and all these filthy things you call subjects into dust. I only have to cast it. It would take a word, no more."
This was a lie. As far as Safar knew there was no such spell. But his days with Methydia's circus had taught him how to lie most convincingly.
"I will do as you say … Master," the queen answered. "On my word, no one will harm you."
"Fortunately," Safar said, "I don't need to test your word.
"Now, tell me, what is this place? And what do you do here?"
The queen answered simply. "We are the Protectors," she said.
"And what, pray tell, are you the protectors of?"
The queen's head jerked in surprise. If this human wizard, this Lord Timura, was so powerful, why didn't he know the answer? Safar didn't give her a chance to scratch his pose further.
"Well, answer me!" he demanded.
"Why, as all know on Syrapis," she said, "we are the Protectors of Lord Asper. And this is his tomb."
The answer so surprised Safar he nearly lost control of his spell. Syrapis? This great vault was in Syrapis? And what was this about Lord Asper? Protectors!? Protecting what? Asper had long been dead.
What happened next surprised him even more. The queen began chanting in a harsh whisper:
"We are the sisters of Asper,
Sweet Lady, Lady, Lady.
We guard his tomb, we guard his tomb,
Holy One…"
The other creatures joined her in a harsh chorus, as if coming from the grave. It seemed to be a prayer to some goddess, but coming from those throats of malice it made a mockery of all that was holy.
They sang:
"We take the sin, we take the sin,
Sweet Lady, Lady, Lady.
On our souls, on our souls,
Holy One."
Safar thought, if these creatures had souls he didn't want to meet the god who made them. Then he felt a dry, spidery web drifting over him and he realized they were trying to trap him in a spell.
His own spell was weakened and the light dimmed further. The creatures began to stir.
Safar saw the queen's great red eyes come up from the shield of her claws like twin suns rising over the sharp peaks of the Hells. But he only laughed and clapped his hands, bringing the light back to its most shocking brightness, nearly more than even he could bear.
The prayer song collapsed into shrieks of torment. He ignored their pain and turned his back on the queen, who was squirming on her throne in such agony he was confident he had litt
le to fear from her.
He looked around the gaudy room, shielding his eyes against the glaring light, until he saw a raised dais not many paces away. The dais supported a large black coffin, shaped like a demon. Emblazoned on its lid in blood-red paint was a hauntingly familiar shape-a winged snake with two heads, poised to strike.
The sign of Asper! This was the burial place of Lord Asper himself. The source of all the wisdom Safar sought.
But how had these evil beings come to infest the Master Wizard's tomb? Safar had no doubt that Queen Charize's claims of being Asper's Protector were lies. Just as the prayer song had been a lie.
Amazed as he was, Safar kept his wits about him. He wouldn't make the same mistake twice. Tightening his control on the spell of light, he went to the dais and climbed the steps, being extremely careful not to stumble and lose concentration. When he was a few feet away, he felt the buzz of magic.
The snake heads came alive and shot toward him, then stopped. Still buzzing, but more a buzz of recognition than warning.
Asper knew him!
An odd thought came-How strange! Why should he recognize me?
Then he saw another familiar symbol on the side of the coffin. It was the outline of the island of Syrapis, exactly the same as the one in Asper's book-although much larger.
His fingers tingled with the sudden desire to touch the symbol. He mounted the dais steps, hand outstretched, so taken by the notion he forgot the warding spell. The light began to dim. He paid no attention, drawing closer and closer to the symbol of Syrapis. As the light dimmed still more, he heard Queen Charize mutter commands and her subjects rising up behind him, dry insect wings stirring old dust from the floor. Still he ignored them, climbing higher until the coffin was within his reach.
His fingers moved toward the symbol of Syrapis. He thought, I only have to touch it and all will be explained.
Words came to him, he didn't know from where, and he whispered, "Wherein my heart abides/This dark-horsed destiny I ride?"
And a whispered reply came back-"Khysmet!"
His journeying hand froze. What was this? Who was speaking? And what did he mean?