by Allan Cole
If Dame Fortune smiled they'd keep missing until he was out of range.
She must have had two heads that night, because while one smiled, the other frowned. For although he and Eeda escaped the arrows, they heard the sounds of fighting as they approached the other ship. Obviously, there was no refuge to be found there.
Coralean stopped, treading water, while he looked around to see what his next move ought to be. There was a fire burning on the next closest ship, so he knew that was no good.
Be damned, this meant three ships had gone over to the enemy!
Eeda gently tugged his collar for attention. “Look, lord husband,” she whispered. “To the left!"
Coralean paddled around and saw an empty boat bobbing about fifty yards away. Apparently it had broken loose from the ship during the early stages of the fight.
He struck out for it and soon he and Eeda were hauling themselves over the side. Coralean didn't waste any time. Quickly, he found the oars and started rowing. Big muscles bunching and easing, sea-water and kelp streaming from his head and beard as from some burly god arisen from the depths of the ocean.
A half-hour later he was crouched under the broad stern of the Tegula, straining to hear what was happening on deck. He heard men talking, but their voices were so low that he couldn't make out whether they were friend or foe. Whoever they were, the boarding nets were in place so they obviously knew something was happening.
Eeda tugged at his sleeve, signaling. Coralean turned to see that the flames aboard the ship that had been on fire had been put out. Now its sails were going up and it was moving away—heading out to sea. The other two ships were already under way and were nearly clear of the bay.
Cursing and so angry he was prepared to face alone whatever foe awaited him aboard the Tegula, Coralean started to draw his sword. But the scabbard was empty, the sword lost in the long swim.
Just then, Coralean heard the splash of oars and he lumbered about in the small boat, grabbing up an oar for a weapon. Eeda had her dagger out, ready to fight beside him.
Then a harsh voice called out: “Make one move, you flea-bitten Rhodesman, and you'll be eating my arrow for supper!"
Coralean's heart leaped with joy when he heard the broad accent of a Kyranian soldier.
"We're safe, lord husband!” Eeda cried.
And she threw her arms around him, nearly toppling them both into the sea.
* * * *
Several hours later, Rhodes and his three ships were standing just off the narrow tip of Syrapis. A stream of boats churned out to meet them. Each carried an oil lamp hoisted on a pole and the effect was like a rare string of pearls from his treasury bobbing on dark waters.
These boats, however, were more valuable to Rhodes than a whole chest of pearls. For each was loaded with soldiers, weapons and stores enough for many months.
The king strode happily up and down the deck of his command ship—the Kray. Within a few hours he'd have five hundred crack troops crammed into his ships. And then he'd be off well before the Kyranians sniffed out his plan.
His only disappointment was that he hadn't been able to capture Coralean. But that didn't matter now. Even that canny old devil wouldn't suspect what Rhodes was up to until it was too late.
When they heard the news of the king's raid on their ships, the Kyranians would think Rhodes was planning an invasion of their territory by sea. They'd scramble as fast as they could to bolster their defenses. And then they'd send all their ships and men down to meet him.
Only to find he wasn't there.
Thinking of their bewildered faces when they finally learned what he was up to, Rhodes couldn't contain a chuckle. By the gods, sometimes it was good to be king!
Within him, Kalasariz shared his pleasure—reveling in the hot juices of victory. Brilliant, Majesty, brilliant, he said in that whispered inner voice that Rhodes had become quite at ease with.
And it won't be long, Majesty, Kalasariz added, before you'll shine with even greater brilliance. When we've cornered and crushed Safar Timura and that fiend he calls his son!
Rhodes nodded vigorously, oblivious to the nearby Tabusir and his other officers who wondered what the king was doing, muttering and nodding to himself. Was he drunk?
Then Clayre's voice cut through, spoiling the king's good mood. “Son, son! Come at once. I have need of you."
"The old bitch!” Rhodes growled low.
Do not trouble yourself, Majesty, Kalasariz soothed. Once we have the Timuras, we won't need her anymore.
And Clayre shouted, “Did you hear me, son? I'm calling you!"
Mood restored, Rhodes chuckled again and started for the Queen Witch's stateroom.
And he cried brightly, “Coming, mother!"
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CREATURE COMFORTS
Don't open the door, Little Master!” Gundara whispered.
"It's definitely not a good idea!” Gundaree chimed in.
Once again, Palimak heard a heavy thump against his cabin wall.
"What is it?” he asked.
"Something really, really mean,” Gundara replied.
"And hungry,” Gundaree added. “You forgot to mention that."
"You always say that,” Gundara sniffed. “Mean things usually are hungry. That's what makes them so mean."
Palimak put a finger to his lips, shushing them. He motioned and the two Favorites leaped up on his shoulders and perched on either side of his head.
He put his ear against the door, listening. Nothing.
No, wait! He thought he could make out a creaking noise. It reminded him of thick boughs settling in a tree. Very strange.
Palimak opened mental gates to his demon side and his senses became more acute. Beneath the sound of the settling boughs he heard a slight clicking. Like a beetle? No, not that. Then more clicking. Was there more than one?
Cautiously, he sent out a magical feeler. He caught the vibrating aura of a single being. But what kind of a being, he couldn't tell.
He slipped the astral tentacle out further, gently feeling around.
First there was a warning buzz of magic. Then suddenly something white-hot burned his senses and he snatched the probe back.
"It still doesn't know you're awake, Little Master,” Gundara whispered.
"That was just its armor,” Gundaree explained.
Palimak noticed he was dripping with sweat. And it wasn't from fear or tension. The cabin was definitely getting warmer.
Then his demon hearing picked up a rustling sound, like a breeze disturbing an old pine. Followed by more clicking sounds. All very faint.
"It's trying to talk to me and Gundaree,” Gundara said.
"But it doesn't want us to wake you up,” Gundaree said.
"Go ahead and answer,” Palimak said.
Evidently they did, because he felt a tingling sensation run up his spine and his hair stood on end. Followed by another heavy thump against the wall. And the sound of the whispering pines and insect-like clicking.
Then silence—the waiting kind where stillness takes on a shadowy presence. The room grew warmer, the atmosphere dank from the sweat pouring off Palimak in rivulets. Finally:
"He doesn't seem so mean now, Little Master,” Gundara said.
"Not mean at all,” Gundaree added.
"But he's still hungry,” Gundara said.
"So what?” Gundaree said. “You can't blame somebody for being hungry."
"That's true,” Gundaree said in singular agreement. “I'm hungry right now, as a matter of fact. And it's making me feel mean."
"What does he want?” Palimak said, paying no attention to the last.
"Oh, nothing much, Little Master,” Gundara said. And Palimak could almost hear the shrug in his voice.
"Except he wants us to help kill you,” Gundara added.
Palimak raised his eyebrows. But said nothing.
"He promised us all sorts of nice things if we agreed,” Gundaree said.
"And he a
lso said we wouldn't have to work so hard all the time,” Gundara put in.
"He sure sounded like a pretty nice new master to me,” Gundaree said.
"What did you tell him?” Palimak asked.
"Oh, that we'd think about it,” Gundara said.
"Good,” Palimak said. “We need to stall for time."
"Except, maybe we really will think about it,” Gundaree threatened.
"The snacks around here haven't been too good lately,” Gundara said.
Palimak ignored this last exchange. The Favorites had been his lifelong companions. And although they could be nasty, quarrelsome little things, in their thousand years of existence he was the only friend they'd ever had. Besides, their loyalties were bound to whoever possessed the stone turtle that was their home.
He wiped perspiration from his eyes and looked around the cabin, trying to figure out what to do. Magic was out. The intense heat, he realized, was the by-product of a spell meant to smother his abilities.
And it was doing a good job of it, too! Even the idea of sorcery made him feel weary.
A direct physical attack would also be doomed. Whatever the thing was, it was huge and most certainly prepared to deal with Palimak on a one-on-one basis.
"Why doesn't he just break down the door and kill me himself?” Palimak asked. “Why does he need you?"
"Because you can still use us to make magic and fight him,” Gundara said.
This surprised Palimak. “Aren't you two affected by his spell?"
"Little Master's being stupid again,” Gundaree said.
"He certainly is,” Gundara said.
"Stop it!” Palimak hissed. The heat and tension were making him impatient. “Just answer my question."
Gundara gave a long sigh, like a child pressed by an adult to explain the painfully obvious.
"Magic is what we're made of, Little Master,” he said. “Don't you know that?"
"Oh,” Palimak said, feeling very stupid indeed.
The Favorites were spirit folk, composed entirely of magical particles. Safar had explained this to him years ago. He'd used the analogy of a clay jar filled with water. A human or demon wizard was a jar containing a certain amount of sorcerous “liquid.” Whereas spirit folk were the jar itself, plus all it contained.
"If his spell could take away our magic,” Gundaree continued for his brother, “then we wouldn't be here. We'd be dead."
"Sorry,” Palimak said. “I didn't mean to get angry."
"That's all right, Little Master,” Gundara allowed in a rather grand manner. “We know you can't always be perfect like us."
There was another thump at the door. Then a cracking sound as something heavy leaned against it. He could see the planks bending inward under the weight.
"He's getting mad, Little Master,” Gundaree said. “He wants our answer now, or he's going to come in anyway."
"Stall him some more,” Palimak said.
The twins resumed their odd communication with the creature, filling the air with whispering and clicking noises.
Whatever lies they told seemed to work, because soon the planks groaned as the weight was removed and they resumed their original shape.
Even with the help of the Favorites, Palimak knew he didn't have enough sorcerous strength to live through an encounter with the creature. Which meant the only avenue open was escape.
He glanced at the open porthole—the only exit from the cabin, other than the door. Steam from the overheated room was wisping out into the night like a fog.
For a moment, he considered climbing out and dropping into the sea. Then he dismissed that idea. The ship was under full sail and Palimak would swiftly be left behind to drown.
It was starting to come down to a choice between a watery grave or being eaten alive.
As if on cue, Gundara whispered, “I'm hungry!"
"Me too!” Gundaree said.
Absently, Palimak fished a biscuit from his pocket and broke it in half. A wriggling worm fell to the floor. Palimak looked at the worm, then at the two biscuit halves, then at the door. A hazy idea started to take form.
"What kind of a creature is he?” Palimak asked the twins.
"Oh, he's sort of like a tree,” Gundara said. “Except he doesn't have any leaves."
"And he's sort of like an animal,” Gundaree said. “Except he doesn't have any skin or bones."
"But he's got ever so many teeth,” Gundara said.
"They're all over his branches,” Gundaree added. “Lots and lots of teeth in lots and lots of little mouths, all with long, sharp tongues."
"I'm sorry we can't be more helpful, Little Master,” Gundaree said. “But it's hard to describe something that's both an animal and a tree."
"And we really wouldn't help him kill you,” Gundara said.
"Never!” Gundaree agreed.
A slight pause, then: “Now can we eat?” Gundara asked plaintively.
"I want the worm!” Gundaree said, smacking his lips.
"Not this time,” Palimak said. “I need that worm."
He squatted, took out his dagger and cut the worm in half.
"Poor thing,” Gundara observed.
Gundaree sneered at his twin. “What's wrong with you?” he asked. “It's only a stupid worm."
Gundara wiped away a solitary tear. “But she seemed so happy in that biscuit,” he said. “And now look at her. One part's a head without a tail. And the other's a tail without a head."
"I'll soon fix that,” Palimak said, placing a wriggling piece on each side of the door.
Then he crept silently to his bedside and fetched a pitcher of water back to the door. He crumbled up the biscuit halves, mixed them with the water and made two lumps of dough. From these he formed two credible dough men, complete with legs, arms, heads and faces with simple features.
"I get it,” Gundara said. “They're sort of like the cheese monster!"
He was referring to one of Palimak's boyhood experiments that had worked well enough to get them all into trouble with Safar.
"Something like that,” Palimak agreed.
Then he indicated the still-moving worm halves. “Get in,” he ordered the twins.
"Yuk!” Gundara said.
"Yum!” said Gundaree.
Palimak pointed at Gundara. “Just do as you're told."
Pouting and muttering under his breath, Gundara stomped over to his worm half, held his nose, then vanished inside.
"You next,” Palimak said to the lip-smacking Gundaree. “But don't you dare eat it!"
The Favorite's smile was replaced by a look of outrage. He kicked at the floor, grumbling, “I never get to have any fun!"
But he did as he was told and vanished into the piece reserved for him. Palimak pressed a worm half into each doughman and set them on either side of the door.
Then, very slowly and quietly he slipped the latch.
Heart hammering so hard he was sure the creature could hear it, he tiptoed to his bunk, stripped off the blanket and tied one end to a stool.
He placed the stool under the porthole and grasped the free end of the blanket.
Then he said to the twins: “All right. Tell him to come in!"
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
ATTACK ON THE NEPENTHE
Safar was surrounded by four enormous wolves with glowing eyes and slavering jaws. They were reared back on their hind legs, towering nearly two feet over him. Their front legs ended in long, sharp, demon-like claws.
He was pinned by powerful magic and couldn't move as they stalked in for the kill. His mind gibbered, How can this be? I destroyed them, dammit! I destroyed them all!
From somewhere nearby he heard beasts ravaging flesh and breaking bones between strong jaws. He could smell the stench of blood and offal from their victim. And then a shiver of helpless agony shook him to the core as he heard the victim scream:
"Help me, father! Help me!"
It was Palimak. Crying and flailing as the beasts ate him alive.
The king wolf—the largest of the four—rasped laughter at Safar's predicament. And then he spoke with Iraj's voice.
He said, “Here we are, together again, old friend."
The wolf that was Iraj gestured and a goblet appeared in his claws. It was a fragile thing with such beautiful designs carved into its surface that Safar shuddered to see such artistry despoiled. It was like being forced to watch some piece of filth ravish your sister.
The king wolf raised the goblet in a mocking toast. “To my blood brother, Safar Timura,” he said. “Long may he die!"
Then he drank the contents down and hurled the goblet away to shatter on the ground. The other wolves growled in satisfaction.
And Palimak screamed, “Help me, father!"
The king wolf chuckled, then mimicked the cry, “Help me, father!"
His head snaked down until his eyes were at Safar's level. Huge and afire with hate. “What's wrong, Safar?” he asked. “Why don't you help him?"
He gestured back into the darkness. “There's still some of him left. If you act quickly, you might be able to save an arm or a leg."
Safar tried to speak, but no words would come.
The king wolf tilted his head. “What's that?” he asked. “I can't hear you."
Safar gathered all his strength and, gasping with effort, he croaked, “Stop!"
The king wolf acted surprised. He said, “Is that all you can say after all these years? Stop? Why should I? You're the one who started this. Why don't you stop? Then perhaps we can be friends again."
And Safar croaked, “Please!"
Instantly, the wolf started to transform. There was an awful popping of joints as his limbs moved violently in their sockets. His snout retreated, his eyes and ears shifted position, his gray fur dissolved.
And Safar found himself staring into the handsome human face of Iraj Protarus.
"You see, Safar?” Iraj said, hands sweeping down to indicate his transformed body. “You see what I'm willing to endure for you? And a simple ‘please’ was all it took."