by Allan Cole
The creature roared. Palimak tried to turn and see, but Safar leaned forward, blocking him, telling him,
"Whatever you do-Don't look back!"
There was another crash-this one much closer. Khysmet stretched to his fullest, straining to gain more speed.
The snowstorm intensified and Safar lost sight of the Spirit Rider. All he could see was a snatch of the shoreline to the side and just ahead of him-chunks of ice hissing in and out of the mist on steely waves.
Again there was the sound of something heavy slamming down behind them. The ground quaked, but this time the beast didn't seem quite as close. At least he hoped so.
A large wave boomed in from the side and Khysmet veered from the shoreline to escape it. The mistake was evident within a few seconds. Without the shoreline to guide them visually, and the sound of the sea lost beneath Khysmet's pounding hooves, they quickly became lost in the blizzard.
Their enemy, however, had no such trouble. The crashing sound suddenly gained on them-coming closer than ever before.
Then a beacon flared well off to the left and Safar turned Khysmet toward the light.
He heard a marrow-freezing roar and a cold foul breath blasted across his back. Safar fumbled a small pouch from his belt, bit the drawstrings apart and hurled the pouch and its contents behind him-his shouted spell ripped from his lips by the storm:
"Fire to cold,
Cold to fire.
All hearts burn
On Winter's pyre!"
As he hurled the last words into the winds one of the beast's claws caught his cloak, pulling him back. He jerked forward against Palimak, feeling cloth and flesh tear.
There was a spellblast behind him, followed by the howl of some great beast in pain, and the claw was snatched away.
The beacon grew larger in his view and then he gradually began to make out the shadowy figure of the horsewoman racing ahead of him through the storm-a bright magical brand held aloft in one hand.
There was a violent crash behind him and he realized the ice creature had only been slowed momentarily by his attack spell and was pursuing him again. From the sound of its roaring-hate mingled with pain-it was back to full strength, more determined than ever to bring them down.
He heard waves crashing on both sides of them and realized they were now out on the narrow peninsula.
Now there was no way open but straight ahead. And when they reached the end they'd be trapped against the raging open seas.
To gain time he repeated his previous attack, hurling the spell blindly over his shoulder. The action had even less effect than before-the creature had evidently learned from the first experience. Safar groaned in disappointment when the spellblast went off and all he heard was a sharp yelp of pain as their pursuer dodged most of the impact.
"Let me help you, father!" Palimak cried and Safar plucked the last pouch from his belt-reaching for the boy's strength to add to his. But there wasn't much there-he could feel Palimak's weariness, sense his struggle to add to Safar's powers.
Still, it was just enough, and when he cast the spell he heard a satisfying shriek from the beast.
He saw the Spirit Rider reach land's end, but to his surprise, instead of turning about she kept going, riding straight out onto the water's surface.
Safar put all his trust in the woman, riding after her without hesitation. Even so, as Khysmet plunged ahead, he braced to be swallowed by icy waters. The expected shock never came and a moment later they were racing across the boiling sea as if it were the firmest ground.
Behind them he heard the beast roar in frustrated fury and with every stride Khysmet took the roars became fainter and fainter, until they faded altogether.
The snow fell harder until everything above and below was obscured from view. He felt as if he were riding through a strange world where only the color of white existed-except for the beacon of light bobbing ahead of them as the horsewoman led them onward.
They rode like that for a long time. How long Safar couldn't say, except to note that Palimak had fallen into an exhausted sleep. Safar might have slept himself-he'd find himself dozing off, eyes closing involuntarily, then being jogged awake and seeing the ever-present beacon still moving ahead of them.
Even Khysmet seemed to tire, his pace growing gradually slower as they went on.
Safar was shocked from his stupor by a loud rumbling sound. The sea heaved under them and Palimak snapped awake, crying out in fear-"Father! Father!" Safar was too busy holding on to answer as Khysmet shrilled surprise, leaping high into the air. Safar and Palimak were nearly hurled off when he landed-hooves skittering on what seemed to be a reef rising from the ocean floor. They were rocked from side to side, but still Khysmet managed to keep his footing.
For a moment all was still. Then a blast of wind sheered in from the side, sweeping the snow away.
They were presented with an incredible sight. Looming over the tiny, barren island they now found themselves on was the immense stone image of a demon. It had a long narrow face topped by heavy brows that arched over deep-set eyes. Whoever had designed the statue had given it a sad smile, which added to the effect of the deep-set eyes, making the demon seem incredibly wise.
Safar remembered the face very well. It had been carved on the coffin lid he'd seen in his vision long ago.
It was the face of the great Lord Asper.
As they rode toward the statue Safar saw the Spirit Rider had stopped. She was waiting in front of a wide stairway that led up to the statue's open mouth-beacon still held high.
Khysmet perked up, whinnying at the black mare, who whinnied greetings in return. Safar's pulse quickened as they drew near.
The woman was just as beautiful as he remembered back in that moonlit clearing so many miles and months ago. Her face and form were so perfect she looked as if she'd been carved by a master artist from some rare ebony wood and her bright smile of greeting warmed the frozen lump deep in his heart.
She called out to him, "Only a little farther, my friend. Only a little farther."
Then she whirled the mare about, shouting, "This way to Syrapis!" And plunged up the broken staircase to disappear into the mouth of the statue.
Safar didn't have to urge Khysmet to follow. The big stallion lunged up the staircase after the mare and a moment later they were leaping through the opening.
There was a flash of white light. Then darkness-marked only by the distant beacon carried by the Spirit Rider. The beacon light steadied, then stopped.
Palimak whispered, "There's no danger, father. Everything's fine, now."
The light grew stronger then wider, until Safar realized it was no longer a beacon, but natural light shining through a cave opening.
A moment later they cantered out into soft sunlight. Safar blinked. The woman was gone! His heart wrenched in dismay. Under him he could feel Khysmet's sides heaving and knew the animal was just as deeply affected by the disappearance of the mare.
"We're not in the machine anymore, father," Palimak announced.
"What?" Safar was so dazed he barely heard.
"Gundara and Gundaree say we're out of the machine," Palimak said.
Safar glanced about. Gradually his surroundings sunk in. There was no island. No raging seas. No blinding snowstorm. All had vanished.
Instead, they were riding along a narrow mountain ridge, breathtaking vistas stretching out in every direction. To the south was a snow-dappled range of low mountains, marked by two familiar peaks.
Caluz was beyond those mountains-and not so very distant. Safar could see a yellow tinge lying low on the horizon and knew it was from the poisonous atmosphere of the Black Lands. Further evidence were puffs of smoke from all the active volcanoes. He looked closely at the mountains the Kyranians needed to cross when he went back to fetch them. To his joy he saw the faint scar of a caravan track running between the peaks.
Even brighter news beckoned from the north. Not many miles beyond the ridge they were riding along was a sh
ining sea. He could even make out a few dots of white that were sailing craft skimming across the peaceful waters. There was no sign of the snow storm he'd just experienced. The fields were green and summery. Far off he saw the curving slash of a road running along the shoreline. Beyond that was a dazzling city of the purest white.
Hovering over the city was a vast field of golden clouds-flattened so they looked like fabulous islands in the sky.
Caspan!
The last jumping off point to Syrapis.
Palimak's voice jolted him out his reverie. "There's someone waiting for us, father," he said, pointing to a little deer trail leading off the ridge and down to a little grove of trees. "Down there."
Safar tensed. "Is it dangerous?" he asked.
Palimak hesitated while he conferred in whispers with the Favorites. Then, "They're not sure," he said, scratching his head. "They go back and forth. It's all pretty confusing. The only thing they agree on is that we have to go there-no matter what."
Safar loosened his sword. "Let's assume the worst, son," he said. "Then we won't have any reason to be sorry later."
Palimak nodded, arranging his cloak and belt so he could reach anything that might be needed. Young as he was, the boy was now quite trail wise-speaking only when necessary. He quietly got himself a drink of water and a handful of dried dates to munch on.
Safar was pleased the boy seemed so alert, all signs of exhaustion gone. As for himself-well, he felt as if he'd been through the hells and back. Which, now that he thought of it, he had. Pity he didn't possess the restorative powers of the very young. He was only in his third decade of life. Right now he it seemed like five more had been added to that span by the ordeal.
He glanced up at the sun to mark the time. To his surprise he saw it was barely mid-afternoon. Which meant only a few hours had passed since they'd left Hantilia's palace. If he had been asked, Safar would have sworn at least a week had gone by. This was very powerful magic, indeed.
There was no time to ponder such mysteries. He needed a clear mind for whatever faced them down that trail. Taking a lesson from Palimak, he got himself a drink and something to eat. Except he chose a palmful of jerky and a hefty slug of wine from the flask at his hip. Refreshed, he turned Khysmet down the narrow deer trail.
The path was steep and deeply curved so it was impossible for the riders to see very far ahead. Also, the grove of trees below them was too dense for them to make out what it hid. Skin prickling, eyes shifting back and forth, Safar guided Khysmet down the trail.
There was no warning. They came around a bend, the path dipped, and suddenly they were trotting into the grove. A gentle sun streamed down through the tree, giving the light a holy cast. A musical fountain played in the center of the grove, mist rising from the playing waters to glow in the sunlight. The fountain itself was a scene out of the Book of Felakia-the goddess revealed in all her beauty as she bathed in a stream, dipping up a cup of water to pour over her marble tresses.
Other than the life-sized statue of the goddess there were no structures in the grove, only a few stone benches set about the fountain. It was the sort of place one might expect to find in a temple garden-certainly never in the middle of a forbidding wilderness.
Just then Safar spotted someone waiting for them by the fountain. His heart jumped in amazement.
"It's the Queen, father!" Palimak blurted. "Queen Hantilia!"
The Demon Queen, graceful and royal as ever in her flowing red Asper robes, raised a claw of welcome.
"Greetings, Safar Timura," she said. "I have waited long for this meeting."
Safar goggled at her. What in the hells was she talking about? Where was the Oracle? Most important of all-how did she get here? Meanwhile, the Queen was eyeing him, looking him over as if she'd never seen him before.
"I didn't know you'd be so handsome," she said. "For a human, that is." She turned to Palimak.
"And you, young Palimak Timura," she said in her musical voice, "I mustn't neglect you. You are quite handsome as well. Handsomer than your father, if I may be so bold. It's the demon in you that makes the difference."
Safar slid out of the saddle. "Pardon me for sounding rude, Majesty," he said. "But you're talking nonsense. And before anything else is said, I'd appreciate it greatly if you answered a few questions. To start with, could you please explain how in the hells you got here!"
Hantilia laughed. "Be patient, my lord," she said. "And all will be revealed to the best of my ability."
She waved at a bench across from hers. "Come sit and rest," she said. "And take a little refreshment, please. You must be hungry and tired after your long journey." Another wave and the small table in front of the bench was suddenly filled with plates of delicacies and mugs of drink.
Safar started to object. He was tired of the Queen's constant evasions and pleas for patience. He wanted answers, by the gods! Safar took half step forward, then paused. For the first time he noticed how insubstantial Hantilia seemed to be. In fact, if he turned his head slightly he could see right through her to the other side of the grotto where the trees moved gently in the breeze in a shadow play scene tinted red by her robes.
"She's not a ghost, father," Palimak said. "Gundara says she isn't real. But Gundaree says she's sort of real." He shook his head. "They're not being very helpful today."
"What do you say, Safar Timura?" Hantilia said, again indicating the bench and the table of food.
"Will you take a chance with me? You've taken so many just to get here, what could be the harm?"
Safar sighed, accepting whatever fate had in store for them. Palimak took the sigh as a signal and scrambled off Khysmet. They quickly unsaddled the horse and set him free to graze on the tender grasses fed by the playing fountain.
As soon as they sat down in front the table of food they became famished and fell to. Hantilia sat quietly while they ate and drank. To Safar's surprise the magical food was delicious-in his experience such things always tasted like paper forgotten in some musty nook of a old library. There was never any substance or nourishment to that kind of food-when you finished eating you realized there had been no meal at all and you were left feeling just as empty as before. The drink she provided was equally as marvelous. Safar's cup proved to contain a never-ending supply of a rich, earthy wine, while Palimak's was an ever flowing container of what he said was a delicious fruit punch.
When they were done and the world seemed much brighter than before, Hantilia said, "Ask your questions, Safar Timura. I've been waiting for many a day to answer them."
Safar eyed her. Things were beginning to make a glimmer of sense.
"You're the Oracle of Hadin," he said-a statement, not a question.
Hantilia chuckled. "What did you expect? Some sort of great, goddess-like figure descending from the heavens? If so, I fear you must be very much disappointed. To begin with, if you are a student of Asper, you'll realize there are no gods or goddesses about. They're all asleep, you know. Slumbering away in their celestial beds while the world is turned to ashes."
"I'll try again," Safar said. "Are you the Oracle I seek?"
Hantilia shrugged. "I'll have to do," she said. "The original Oracle is … dead, isn't quite the word for such a being. Dissolved, I suppose, is more descriptive. However you put it, she was destroyed when the Caluzians failed to halt the machine." She touched claw to breast. "I am her replacement, so to speak."
Palimak snorted. "Why didn't you just say so right away?" he piped up.
"Good question, son," Safar said. Then to Hantilia, "Do you have an answer?"
"A simple one, actually," she replied. "If I'd have spoken then it would have ruined the spell."
"What spell?" Palimak broke in. "I didn't sense any spell. Neither did Gundara or Gundaree."
"That, my dearest, is because the spell was cast after you left the palace," Hantilia said.
Her form suddenly wavered, weakening, until she seemed about to vanish. Then it firmed. Safar saw moistness in her de
ep-set demon eyes.
"Forgive me," she said, wiping away an escaped tear. "But I was thinking of what must have happened after you departed."
She paused to compose herself, then said, "The Hantilia you see before you, as you've no doubt guessed, is not a living creature. I suppose you couldn't call me a creature of any kind, living or otherwise. I am merely part of the overall spell-the Great Sacrifice, is what we named it. In reality-if there is such a thing-I and all my followers are dead."
Safar and Palimak were rocked by this statement. They also had no doubt but that it was true. Safar remembered when they left the courtyard Palimak said he felt sorry for Hantilia and the others. The boy must have sensed the tragedy about to unfold.
"It was necessary for us to sacrifice ourselves," Hantilia said, "for the final part of the spell to be cast.
Otherwise there wouldn't have been enough power."
Safar reflected on their perilous journey and realized they never would have made it this far without some outside help. An enormous amount of help, at that, considering the magical snowstorm-which he now realized had been for their benefit.
"To be frank," the Queen continued, "I'm a little surprised my people and I had the will to act when the moment came." She sighed. "At times I wondered if we had all become insanely religious, like those strange cults you hear about in the wilder areas of Esmir."
"You said before that it began with a vision," Safar said. "Of the Lady Felakia appearing before you."
"I lied," Hantilia said. "Or at least my other self lied. I suppose there's not much difference. I'm truly sorry, but it was the easiest way to avoid uncomfortable questions I was forbidden to answer."
"Then what is the truth, Majesty?" Safar asked.
Hantilia indicated a large stone at Safar's feet. "Lift up the rock," she said.
He did as she directed and the stone came up like a lid. Beneath the stone, in a brick-lined hollow, was a packet wrapped in oil cloth.