Wolves of the Gods tott-2

by Allan Cole

  When he reached the platform, he quickly drew a golden arrow from the quiver on his back, fixed it into his bow and posed his best and boldest pose-which he'd rehearsed for hours.

  Palimak fired and the arrow sped toward the beastmen. It struck near the massive leader, who was still displaying the standard of Kyrania. Smoke exploded and the beastmen shrieked in anger, whirling to face Palimak. The boy fired again and this time the chieftain dropped the banner in his scramble to get away from the exploding smoke.

  The tide was turned and the crowd roared in delight as Leiria recovered and attacked from the rear, knocking beastmen aside, then leaning down in an amazing feat of horsemanship and scooping up the fallen banner.

  The crowd went insane, cheering their heroes on. But Safar wasn't done with them yet. Another lightning blast rocked the arena and a frightening figure dropped out of the sky. It was Arlain, dressed like an assassin in form-fitting black with a gold sash about her waist, breathing long tongues of fire at the scene below.

  The Kyranians screamed warnings to their heroes but the assassin was too quick, snatching Palimak from the platform and swinging away with the boy clutched in her arms.

  She dropped to the ground and held the boy high for all to see.

  "Help!" Palimak shrieked. "Help me!"

  Leiria saw his plight and spurred her horse forward, but Arlain froze her with a shout:

  "Surrender! Or the boy dies!"

  Leiria sagged, sword dropping, bowing to the inevitable.

  And that's when Safar struck! A huge blast shook the arena, raising a huge bank of smoke swirling with every color. Khysmet came charging out of the smoke, horse armor picking up the colors and shattering them toward the beastmen. Another blast rocked the heavens and a great black hole opened like a gate in the cloud above. Safar, dressed in gleaming white armor and carrying a white shield emblazoned with the snake-headed sign of Asper, soared out of the cloud, roaring:

  "FOR KYRANIA!"

  A wire so slender it was invisible to the audience carried him down to meet Khysmet, who was circling the arena, taking his measure of the beastmen. Sparks showered out and at the same time Safar punched the release lever on his belt and dropped into Khysmet's saddle as smoothly as if he had vaulted from a sturdy fence.

  And then came the organized chaos of what Biner called "The Big TBF, my lad!" Meaning, The Big Finish. It was fast, it was furious, but also quite stylized and elegant. There was none of the fake gore favored by other circus troupes. Methydia would have never permitted such a thing. "People have troubles enough," she always said, "without being reminded of the terrible things that are done. Give it art.

  Give it drama. Give them a little sex, a little comedy, a clown chase. And then a nice bit of action, with a happy ending that will send them all home to sweeter dreams than they had before the circus came."

  So that's what Safar did. He gave the Kyranians lots of action, but with no hidden pig's bladder of blood bursting when a sword stroke was made. The battle was one of daring acrobatics and high drama, with many illusions-some circus trickery, some magical spells cast by Safar-to tell the tale. In the end, Palimak was rescued. The three heroes regrouped. The villains were driven off. And the standard retrieved.

  On horseback now, Safar, Palimak and Leiria turned to the crowd and in a flourish of trumpets announced victory over the forces of evil. Leiria waving the flag of Kyrania as fireworks shattered the black clouds away and the bright sun and sweet breezes swept through the arena again.

  Any cheering that had gone before was nothing to what happened now. There were whistles and screams and shouts, hands imploding, feet stomping so hard the stands swayed and creaked. Then they all poured out of their seats and into the arena, surrounding the whole circus troupe which had come out to take its bows.

  Someone shouted, "For Kyrania!"

  And they all took it up as a chant-all thousand of them. Refugees, torn from a sweet land, standing in the center of the Hells, shouting:

  "KYRANIA! KYRANIA! KYRANIA!"

  Safar let the emotion carry him until it reached its highest point. The others must have felt it too. Leiria gave his hand a squeeze and Palimak whispered, "I'm ready, father."

  A gesture from Safar brought the little airship sailing out of nothingness to soar above the arena. The crowd, as if sensing something, was suddenly silent, staring up at the magical airship. Safar cast the final spell, letting it ride up and up, like a trapeze racing to its apex.

  He imagined Methydia. Her smoky almond eyes. Long black tresses streaked with silver. Cheeks bones dramatically high. Fruited lips parted in a smile. First he chanted the Balloonist's Prayer. The one Methydia had chanted every eve and every dawn:

  "Come to us Mother Wind.

  Lift us in hands blessed

  By the warm sun.

  We have flown high.

  We have flown well.

  Take us in your arms, Mother Wind.

  And when you are done,

  Set us gently on the ground."

  Then he sang the words to Asper's poem:

  " My love, Remember!

  If ever I am exiled from your sight,

  Know that with my dying breath

  I blew one last kiss and set

  It free on love's sighing winds … "

  He heard Palimak whisper/singing with him and smiled. Then the circus troupe and the crowd joined in, singing:

  " … free on love's sighing winds

  To the place where Life and Death

  And things that never meet

  Are destined to unite."

  She came in a gentle wind off the river, at first nothing more than a gray wisp of fog. But it was a fog heavy with the scent of violets and soon it grew and took form. A face gradually emerging.

  Safar sucked in his breath.

  It was Methydia.

  And she called, "Sa-fahrr."

  The voice came from everywhere, but at the same time it seemed right next to his ear, saying, "Sa-fahrr

  … Sa-fahrr." Each like a long sigh.

  And Safar said to the ghost, "I'm here, Methydia."

  She saw him and smiled, nodding, "Safar. I see you, Safar."

  He was nearly overwhelmed by the ghostly presence, her perfume and haunting voice unhinging him from his moorings. Then he saw the ghost frown-sad … disappointed.

  Safar remembered. "Thank you for the gift, Methydia," he said. Then he held out empty hands, saying,

  "But I have nothing so grand for you, my love. I have only this…"

  And he blew her the promised kiss.

  He heard Methydia's deep-throated laugh of pleasure. Saw her ghost reach up with a wispy hand to mock catch his kiss. She held the closed fist to her lips-kissed it. Then opened her hand and blew…

  Her ghostly kiss came on a heady breeze and Safar drank it in, sighing, nearly drunk with the wine sweetness of it.

  Then the ghost said, "Farewell, Safar. Farewell."

  And Methydia was gone.

  Instead, yawning over their heads as large as any galley that sailed the Great Sea, was the airship.

  Transformed to full size by Methydia's ghostly kiss. The breeze singing in its lines, magical bellows pumping, fire gouting, twin balloons swollen and straining to sail away.

  The Kyranians were overawed by the miracle. First there was a murmur. Then a low mutter of amazement. Then the mutter became a shouted chorus of:

  "Kyrania! Kyrania!"

  Biner pushed through the crowd to Safar. "By the gods," he cried, slapping him on the back so hard he was nearly bowled over. "We're ridin' the winds again, lad," he cried. "Ridin' the winds."

  Queen Hantilia smiled through tears. "That was quite touching," she said, wiping her eyes.

  She looked away from the scene in her mirror where the Kyranians, led by Safar, rejoiced. "I'm such an emotional creature," she said to her assistant. "My heart strings have always been plucked too easily."

  "I must say, Majesty," the assistant said, "that
the airship was quite a surprise. I never expected Lord Timura to do such a thing."

  "He does have an amazing way of working his magic," the Queen replied. "Most of us mages just want to get the spell over with-and do the minimum required. In this case, the minimum would never have worked. Ghosts aren't easy to summon. And this Methydia was apparently a great witch-and those kinds of ghosts are hardest of all to deal with. Actually, I'm not sure anyone has ever managed what he just accomplished."

  "Surely, the great Lord Asper, Majesty?" the assistant protested.

  Hantilia rubbed her brow, thinking. Then she murmured, "Possibly. Just possibly." She looked at her puzzled assistant. "I'm only guessing," she said, "but part of that spell did have the ring of Asper to it."

  "Pardon, Majesty," the assistant said, "but a little while ago you said that Lord Timura was attempting to accomplish three things. But you only named two. What, pray, was the third?"

  The Queen gestured at the mirror, where Palimak was sitting astride Safar's shoulders, waving to the cheering crowd.

  "The boy," she said. "The spell you just witnessed was a dress rehearsal for something much, much bigger. And the only way he can do it is with the boy."

  The Queen sighed. "Another sad little tale in the making," she said.

  She waved a claw at the mirror and the scene disappeared. "Send for Lord Timura," she commanded.

  "It's time for the Great Sacrifice to begin!"

  The Queen's messenger came and went and Safar retired to his tent with Palimak to get ready. They dressed in comfortable clothes-trousers, tunics, cloaks and boots-as if they faced a long journey, instead of just a short stroll to the Queen's palace.

  They both carried small packs filled with magical devices and potions, as well several purses of various things hanging from their belts. Besides this, Safar had his silver dagger tucked into his sleeve and Palimak had the stone turtle containing Gundara and Gundaree tucked safely away in a large pocket inside his tunic. For weapons, Safar made sure they both had bows and a quiver of arrows. Palimak's bow was the one he'd used in the circus act, which Safar deemed more than sufficient to do the job.

  As for swords, however, Safar made a little ceremony out of giving Palimak a steel blade that been especially cut down for him, as well as a knife to balance out his belt.

  Palimak straightened, a few more years of added maturity furrowing his youthful brow.

  Safar stood back to admire the figure he cut. "With you at my side, son," he said, "they don't stand a chance."

  Palimak chortled with delight, eyes turning demon yellow with excitement. "Let's go get them!" he said.

  With that they exited the tent to say their farewells.

  The Timura family waited outside. Leiria stood a little away from them, holding Khysmet's reins, saddle bags packed and ready.

  Safar's mother and sisters and female cousins fussed over them, weeping all the while, while his sisters'

  husbands slapped them both on their backs and wished them "gods speed."

  When they came to his father, Khadji knelt and embraced the boy, saying, "I'll show you some new pottery tricks when you get back." As always, Safar's father had difficulty saying what he really meant.

  Palimak patted him and said, "I can hardly wait, grandfather." Trying to sound really excited about the promise and that the shining adventures he believed awaited him would be boring delays for when that moment came.

  Khadji nodded, then rose to face his son. He was frowning, a little ashamed. "I guess I haven't been much help to you these last few days, son," he said.

  "It was a spell, father," Safar assured him. "Nothing to do with you. There's no fault."

  "Still," his father said, "I'm not happy with myself." He straightened, looking at Safar squarely. "It won't happen again."

  Safar covered a confusion of emotions by giving his father a bear hug, slapping his back and telling him everything was going to be "fine, just fine."

  Then they pulled apart. Safar's father seemed about to say something-lips opening, a clot of words gathering to be blurted. The moment passed and he shook his head.

  "Tell the Oracle she'd better treat you right, son," he said. "Or she'll have another Timura to deal with!"

  "I will, father," he said.

  Safar took Palimak's hand and they turned and walked to where Leiria waited with Khysmet.

  "Biner and Arlain send their apologies," she said. "They're busy rigging out the airship and loading up the gear."

  "Make sure they take those packs I set aside for them," Safar said.

  "They were loaded first," Leiria replied. "I watched them do it myself."

  In the distance they heard Sergeant Dario curse the laziness of an errant soldier. Safar smiled.

  "Sounds like you have everything else in order, too," he said.

  "Dario and I are being extra hard on everyone," she laughed. "We both figure they had their fun in Happy Land. Now it's time to whip out the rest of the softness in them."

  "After all these months," Safar said, "I can't think of anyone who's still soft."

  "Neither can I," Leiria grinned, "but you tell that to Dario! He thinks everybody's too soft. I swear, when he dies they'll make a special rank for him in the Hells. Tormentor in chief, or something."

  The two of them laughed. Palimak joined in, although a little weakly since he wasn't quite sure what they were laughing at. From what he'd seen of Dario he deserved the title, so where was the joke? There were some drawbacks to getting older and Dario, he'd decided, was definitely one of them. He shuddered when he thought of the day he'd join the older lads in training under Dario's baleful eyes and snarled insults and orders.

  He snapped his fingers, saying, "I'm not worried about this Oracle at all!"

  Safar and Leiria stared down at him. "What did you say?"

  Palimak blushed, realizing he'd spoken aloud. He shrugged and gave the child's universal answer:

  "Nothing."

  Leiria gave him a hug. "No matter what happens," she said, "I want you to remember Auntie Leiria's First Rule of Soldiering-When In Doubt, Find A Big Rock To Hide Under."

  More laughter, final good-byes, and Safar swung into Khysmet's saddle. He hoisted Palimak up behind him, blew Leiria a kiss and wheeled the horse to trot away.

  Leiria stared after them, wondering if she'd ever see them again.

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

  COVENANT OF DEATH

  There was not a soul to be seen as Safar and Palimak rode toward the city. The fields were empty, the farm house chimneys cold.

  When they came to the gates there was no one to greet them, much less challenge them, and when they entered the city it seemed more like a great mausoleum, with only ghosts to watch as they passed by shuttered windows and closed doors.

  "Where is everybody, father?" Palimak asked, unconsciously whispering.

  "I don't know," Safar said.

  Then they heard faint music and even fainter voices lifted in song. The sound was coming from Hantilia's silver palace.

  Safar nodded toward the sound. "I expect we'll have our answer soon enough."

  He tapped Khysmet's reins and the horse turned toward the palace, hooves clip-clopping in eerie time with the song.

  They paused at the open palace gates. Inside were hundreds upon hundreds of red-robed Caluzians-so many the Queen's grand courtyard was filled to the overflowing. Her acolytes made a great circle many beings deep and in the center was Hantilia-most regal in her Asper robes and golden crown perched above her demon's horn. She was sitting upon a glorious throne made of ivory studded with many colorful gems. It had a sweeping back rising to form the symbol of Asper-the two-headed snake, wings spread wide as if ready to strike.

  Hantilia sat calmly, a beatific smile on her face, as her subjects sang:

  "It is our fault, it is our fault,

  Sweet Lady, Lady, Lady.

  We take the sin, we take the sin,

  Holy One.

  On our souls, on our
souls,

  Sweet Lady, Lady, Lady.

  No one else, no one else,

  Holy One.

  It is our fault, it is our fault,

  Sweet Lady, Lady, Lady … "

  It was a haunting chant that stirred deep emotions in Safar, although at first he didn't know why it should hold any meaning for him. Then he remembered the vision in Asper's tomb where Queen Charize had reigned over a nest of blind monsters. Charize had claimed to be the protector of the master wizard's bones.

  Harsh-voiced memory recalled the monster queen's song:

  "We are the sisters of Asper,

  Sweet Lady, Lady, Lady.

  We guard his tomb, we guard his tomb,

  Holy One … "

  Safar stared hard at Queen Hantilia, all his magical senses alert for the lie behind her subject's song. But there was none to be found.

  Gripping the saddle, Palimak leaned back as far as he could to see around his father's bulk. The sweet voices of the great choir made him feel sorry for Hantilia's people. He didn't know why the chant should make him feel that way. It just did.

  He listened as the chant continued its circuitous quest:

  "It is our fault, it is our fault,

  Sweet Lady, Lady, Lady.

  We take the sin, we take the sin,

  Holy One.

  On our souls, on our souls,

  Sweet Lady, Lady, Lady.

  No one else, no one else,

  Holy One.

  It is our fault, it is our fault,

  Sweet Lady, Lady, Lady … "

  Then Queen Hantilia saw them and her smile broadened. She gestured with a crystal-topped scepter and the acolytes' voices faded to a whispered, "It is our fault, it is our fault … " on and on without stop.

  Hantilia gestured again and the crowd parted to make a long avenue leading to her throne. Safar noticed there were crushed flower petals strewn over the path, scenting the air with their sunny corpses. He slipped off Khysmet and hitched Palimak forward into the saddle, then he took up the reins and led horse and boy down the flower-strewn avenue to meet the Queen,