Wolves of the Gods tott-2

by Allan Cole

  That's right. Free!"

  Dressed in the red silk shirt and white pantaloons of a circus barker, Safar was manning the ticket counter, calling out to a crowd of bemused Kyranians. Behind him the circus had been set up in the open, complete with stands surrounding a wide ring, colorful banners blowing in the breeze, and trapeze and wire walking equipment slung from high poles. Half the stands were already full of Safar's fellow villagers, who were being entertained by the clowns. The rest of the Kyranians were either filing through makeshift gates to join the others or crowding around Safar's booth. He was thoroughly enjoying himself in his old role as a ticket seller, delighting at the looks of amazement he was getting from his kinsmen. None of them, even his own family, had ever seen this side of him.

  He kept up the patter. "You heard right, my friends. I said free."

  Safar slapped five coins on the counter. "Not five coppers, which is our usual price."

  He made a motion and the crowd gasped as one of the coins vanished. "Not four." Another motion, another disappearing coin. "Not three … not two … not even-" He held up the remaining coin-"one clipped copper." Safar flipped it into the air and to the crowd's amazement it hung there, turning over and over.

  Safar gestured and there was a bang! and the coin burst into colorful bits of paper. Everyone jumped at the noise, then applauded as the paper rained down on them.

  When the applause faded, Safar jumped back into verbal action. "In just one hour, friends," he shouted,

  "you will see sights that have dazzled the greatest courts in Esmir. Thrills, chills, and sometimes even spills. A special performance. For Kyranians only. And all for free."

  Safar held up one of Palimak's clay amulets-the Jester hanging from a leather thong. Next to him were several boxes filled with similar amulets.

  "And that's not all you get, my friends," he cried. "Besides the most exciting performance you have ever witnessed, we have a special gift for each and every one of you."

  He waved the amulet. "It's the Jester, ladies and gentlemen, lads and lasses. The Laughing God! The slayer of ill humored devils. The Lord of Luck! Prince of Good Fortune! All wrapped up in this lovely, magical amulet, guaranteed to ward off evil spells."

  The Kyranians oohed and aahed at the gift. Scores of people pushed forward, waving their hands, begging Safar to give them an amulet and let them enter.

  "No need to crowd, my friends," Safar shouted as he handed amulets out by the fistful, "there's plenty for all."

  He stopped a blushing young mother, babe in arms, who was too shy to take more than one. "Don't rush away, my pretty. You're forgetting the baby. He gets one too." She gratefully accepted it and sped away to see the show.

  Safar kept handing out the amulets, reminding people to put them on so "the Jester can get to work for you right away. Wasted luck is lost luck, my friends. Remember that!" The Kyranians streamed through the gates, amulets dangling from their necks and found seats in the stands. Soon the whole village was accounted for and Safar rushed away to change costumes.

  The first act was about to begin. And he was the star.

  Meanwhile-far away, but too close, too close…

  Iraj raged against the Black Lands, driving his troops mile after mile until they dropped, exhausted; lifting them again by his will alone to go onward, onward to Caluz, pummeled by nature and magic gone wild.

  As they marched the earth heaved under them, splitting and groaning open, eager to swallow whole regiments if they were fool enough to come near. Volcanoes shuddered and burst, tornadoes and sand storms lashed out with no warning. Vicious spells, insane spells, rained from the bleak sky like ash, burning spirit and skin until they thought they could bear no more.

  But then Iraj would turn his wrath on Fari and his wizards, demanding countering spells, healing spells, spells that would put heart into his troops again. He worked Fari and the wizards even harder than the soldiers. A warrior by birth and inclination, he empathized with the demons and men who made up his army. Even through the cold view of a shape changer he still bled when they bled, hungered when they hungered. If he'd had any love in him left he would have lavished it on them-human or demon, all brother warriors together.

  Wizards were a different matter. A creature of magic, Iraj distrusted all sorcery. A soldier at heart, he thought wizards and war magic were only necessary evils and he was disdainful of the soft-fingered spell makers, be they demon or wizard, who made up Fari's private corps. And that's what it was, a private army within an army, a very dangerous situation for Protarus if he let it go on.

  For now he was letting it be, even going so far as to let Fari think he was in supreme favor with the king.

  Just as he allowed Kalasariz to believe what he wanted-and Luka the same.

  Poor Luka. He thought he was out of favor now, the fool in Iraj's eyes. This was true as only a monarch can make things true, especially king to lesser king where every frown or sneer is an iron bolt to the heart. Soon, however, he would make the prince glad. Lift him high up in the royal favor of King Protarus. But at the moment he needed Fari and his miserable wizards, so it was Fari's turn to smile now, no matter how weary that smile.

  Iraj took joy in demanding more from Fari and his sorcerers than he did from his troops. He ground it in, commanding more than they could give, then pushing harder and getting it after all. Spell by strength-draining spell from the wizards, blister by bloody blister from his soldiers, every moan subtracting another inch from his goal.

  Even so, Iraj was a commander who led from the front, demanding as much from himself as the others, so no one had reason to complain they were being asked too much.

  That night, while Safar was rejoined with his old circus mates, Fari and his sorcerers had cast yet one more spell to shield the army from the ravages of the Black Lands. It was only good for three hours at the most and now Iraj-in full wolf form-was charging across the fiery landscape, leading his army as far as he could before time ran out and they had to regroup to cast another protective spell.

  A poisonous yellow fog was clamped upon the land and Iraj could barely see the cratered road before him as he bounded along on all fours. Behind him he could hear the tramp of his army and over that the howls of Fari, Luka and Kalasariz, urging the soldiers to hurry, hurry, hurry!

  For Iraj the most agonizing part of the ordeal was knowing that Safar and the Kyranians had passed this way before with seeming ease. Only one of his wagons had been found abandoned on the caravan track, while Iraj's army was losing several a day. Many of the king's animals had also died, or were too sick or injured to go on. Yet not once had they found even a lost goat from the Kyranian caravan.

  He couldn't understand how it was possible for Safar to accomplish so much single-handedly and with no losses to speak of. Where did he find the will, much less the power?

  His spell brothers-Fari, Luka and Kalasariz-had promised their king once Safar and the demon child were captured all their powers would be his. Then he would be not only king of kings, but the most powerful sorcerer in Esmir.

  Once, that promise had been what drove him. Capturing Safar and taking his powers had been Iraj's obsession, his burning goal. But not any longer. Not since Sheesan. Now he had an even greater reason to bring Safar to ground. He had the witch's spell that would free him from his spell brothers forever.

  Then he could be a true King of Kings. A great emperor unchained from those foul creatures who had tricked him into spell bondage.

  It was this new goal-a shining promise-that kept Iraj from falling into despair. But sometimes he couldn't help but wonder-what was it that kept Safar going? What did he see that Iraj didn't see?

  And most of all, what did Safar want?

  To Iraj, that had always been Safar's greatest mystery. Even when they were boys and fast friends he'd never been able to get Safar to admit his deepest desires. He kept saying he only wanted to remain in Kyrania and be a potter like his father and grandfather. Which had to be a lie, for how c
ould someone as powerful as Safar be satisfied with so little?

  Iraj's spell brothers said Safar wanted Iraj's throne. This made a great deal of sense-for what could be a greater goal for one such as Safar Timura?

  Yet sometimes Iraj wondered. When his moods were the darkest and most foul he thought, what if they are wrong? What if that's not what Safar wants at all?

  And if that were true-what in the hells could he want?

  A hot blast of wind swept the yellow fog away. The Demon Moon was at its brightest and the barren landscape leaped up under its harsh red glow. Many miles distant Iraj could see the huge black range where the road ended. Just beyond, his officers and aides all agreed, was Caluz.

  Blood suddenly boiling with eagerness to get at his prey, Iraj lifted his wolf's snout to howl. Just then the shield dissolved and the howl was strangled off by the thick yellow fog rushing in again.

  Iraj gasped for breath, shifting into human form and rising on two legs. Then the wind shifted and it was easier to draw breath-big, gulping lungsful of the hot, foul substance they called air in the Black Lands.

  He heard Fari roaring orders to his mages and turned to see twenty demons in wizard's robes lofting five spell kites into the sky, each so large that it took four strong demons to control them. The wind whipped the kites high into the air, lighting crashing all around them. Electrical fire ran down wires to the ground, where they were attached to large jars with magical symbols painted on them. The jars glowed with every lightning strike, slowly building up the spell charge. When they were "filled up," Fari and his wizards would create yet another shield to protect the army for a few more hours.

  Iraj tugged at his beard, growing angry at the delay.

  Then one of the kites broke free, wrenching groans from the wizards who knew they'd suffer Fari's wrath for the delay the accident would cause.

  Iraj watched the kite fly free across the boiling night sky and he had a sudden yearning to fly with it, to sail away to a place where he could shed crown and scepter and become an ordinary man, with ordinary cares and ordinary dreams.

  And then the thought struck him-isn't that what Safar had said he'd wanted all along?

  Just then a bolt of lightning struck the kite and Iraj was suddenly, unreasonably, gripped in the jaws of despair. He groaned as the kite burst into flames and plummeted toward the earth, coming apart as it fell, shattering into thousands of fiery bits. Before the burning mass hit the ground a blast of wind swept it up again, carrying it high into the sky-like a meteor shower in reverse.

  Iraj's hopes soared with it, climbing higher and higher, then pausing to hang just beneath the blood-stained heavens.

  There it took on a strange form-a human-like figure with a familiar cap and beaked nose. All sputtering with multi-colored fire.

  Then it dawned on him-It was the Jester. The playful god. And the Crown Prince of Luck.

  Iraj smiled at the omen, confidence flooding back, making him feel stronger than ever before.

  It was a promise, he thought, of things to come.

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

  ASPER'S SONG

  Biner stood in the center ring, resplendent in his dashing ringmaster's costume. "Ladies and gentlemen,"

  he cried. "Lads and lasses of all ages. Welcome to the circus!"

  The Kyranians were rapt, all wearing huge smiles, clutching their jester amulets and listening closely to Biner's every word.

  "This is a special program today," Biner continued, "for all our Kyranian friends. So we won't begin the usual way. First off, I want to tell you that our little company has always held Kyrania dear to our hearts.

  We had the rare good fortune of meeting one of your sons long ago and heard all about you." He grinned. "That young man, by the way, is known to you as Safar Timura. Some might even call him Lord Timura. But when he performed with us he was known far and wide as 'Safar The Magnificent!'"

  He chortled and the crowd laughed with him, especially Khadji and Myrna and the other members of Safar's family who had front row seats of honor.

  "Can you imagine, Myrna," Khadji whispered. "Our Safar who was always so clumsy when he was little?"

  "That was from your side of the family," Myrna teased. "From my side he got 'Magnificent!'"

  Khadji pretended he didn't hear. "Quiet, please, Myrna," he whispered. "I'm trying to listen."

  He pointed at Biner, who was saying, "It was a name well deserved, my good people. For as we all know our friend Safar is remarkable in many ways."

  Led by Myrna and Khadji, the crowd made loud noises of agreement. Biner used the diversion to palm a handful of explosive pellets.

  "So put your hands together, ladies and gentlemen, lads and lasses, and give warm welcome to the one, the only…" Biner made a dramatic gesture, at the same time flinging the pellets to the ground, shouting,

  "…Safar The Magnificent!"

  There was a heart-stopping blast of fire and a cloud of smoke, red and green and white, burst up. The crowd gasped and all eyes were fixed on the thick, swirling mass. The smoke cleared and there were more gasps as three figures emerged, posing nobly on a small platform decorated with magical symbols.

  In the center was Safar, wearing ceremonial wizard's robes. On his right was Palimak, decked out in his miniature soldier's outfit. To his left was Leiria, proud and tall in her glittering armor. In her hands was the black box containing the model of the airship.

  The stands exploded as all the Kyranians came to their feet, clapping and cheering their village heroes.

  Safar motioned to his companions and they all bowed together, boosting the applause to even greater heights. He'd lost none of his skills with an audience, knowing how to take people to the edge, then bring them back again just before exhaustion crept in, making them dull and less receptive for a performance.

  But this time he had to press them past that point-treating the opening of the show as if it were the last encore after a long evening's entertainment. He wanted them limp and receptive to all his suggestions, so when the cheering started to fade he turned, sweeping a hand out to indicate Palimak.

  The boy had been well-rehearsed and he drew himself up and gave them all a snappy salute. It had its desired effect-another long round of thunderous applause. And when that began to diminish Safar immediately turned to Leiria. She held the black box over her head as if it were a trophy and although no one in the audience had the faintest idea what was inside, this triggered a new burst of cheering.

  His eyes swept the crowd and he felt an all-too familiar pang of guilt when he saw all the happy grins pasted on their faces. Safar's first job was the complete opposite of what any circus performer desired.

  He had to turn those smiles into grimaces of misery. Then his gaze fell on his father and mother and he saw the merry insanity in their eyes. The machine's spell made them look foolish and his parents would rather be dead-much less miserable-than not to have all their considerable wits about them.

  So he steeled himself and when he felt the audience reach its last dregs of energy he threw up his arms and shook his head, urging them to stop, saying, "Thank you, thank you, my friends. But, please. Please."

  His voice was magically amplified and had the ring of command, not pleading.

  Then he brought his hands down and although there was no magic involved, it seemed like sorcery when the crowd noise sank along with his hands. And the people dropped into their seats with happy obedience. Their spirits were like soft clay waiting to be molded by him.

  He whispered to Palimak, "Are you ready?"

  Palimak glanced down, checking the two black dots on his sleeve. They weren't dirt specks, but Gundara and Gundaree shrunk to the size of fleas. "Ready, father," he whispered back.

  Safar nodded and turned back to the crowd. "I hope you'll all forgive me," he said conversationally, "if I seem a little clumsy up here. It's been more years than I like to admit since my circus days." There were chuckles of understanding from the audience. "And if y
ou can't find any forgiveness to spare," he added,

  "please don't blame my assistants." He smiled at Palimak and Leiria. "Anything that goes wrong will be my fault, not theirs." More chuckles.

  Somewhere close by, Elgy and Rabix started a drum roll-low, but building quickly.

  "And so," Safar said, "without further ado…" and his voice rose to a shout:

  "Let the show begin!"

  Drums crashed like thunder and Safar stabbed at the sky with his silver dagger. All eyes jerked up, like puppet heads responding to a string. A single cloud, golden in the sun and ridged like a broken cliff face, floated overhead. A red beam of light leaped from the dagger point, lancing the cloud. Harp music swelled and the audience sucked in air as one, then let it out in a long sigh of wonder as a slender stream of golden light spilled from the cloud, arcing down like a waterfall. It fell on the platform and for a moment all was obliterated by brilliant light. People threw up their hands to shield their eyes. The harp music shifted to teasing pipes that made everyone smile.

  Hands came down and wonder of all wonders the light was only a faint shimmer, like curtains of the sheerest yellow silk. Palimak stood alone on the platform, bathed by the golden light. The crowd gaped at him, because instead of a small boy, they were presented with a towering, but childishly slender figure, nearly twelve feet tall.

  Palimak giggled nervously, which made the crowd laugh. Big as he was, the giggles made him seem like a harmless boy again.

  Cymbals crashed and he shouted: "Is everybody happy!"

  "YES!" the crowd roared back.

  "How happy are you?" he cried.

  "VERY HAPPY!" came the reply.

  "That's good," Palimak said. "Because I'm going to need your help with this spell. All right?" There was an enthusiastic chorus of agreement.

  "Great! Now, do you all have those amulets we gave you?" Everyone shouted that they did.

  "Are you all wearing them? I mean everybody-especially the little kids like me, and the babies, too."