by Allan Cole
Failure struck the goddess like a lightning bolt. The Demon Moon burst into flames and she rose from her throne, all six hands outstretched to blast Safar from the face of the world.
"How dare you?” she cried. “How dare you mock..."
But Safar didn't wait for her to finish. Instead, he hurled himself off Khysmet, straight into her waving arms.
His witch's-dagger was already out and as the Lady Lottyr cursed him and folded those killing arms around him he plunged the dagger into her heart. And kept stabbing, on and on.
Like a holy assassin from the temple of Walaria, killing whatever his mad soul and the imagined gods of murder drove him to kill.
Knife in.
Knife out.
Driving and gutting.
Although the goddess was caught by surprise, instead of fighting him off she wrapped all six arms around him and crushed him to her bosom.
Safar felt his ribs go in a ghastly series of cracks and his life's breath being crushed from his body.
But he kept driving the knife in without stop. On, and on, hoping and praying.
A frozen witness to his father's murder, Palimak hung back for a moment. Then he vaulted off the mare to the ground and charged forward.
The only thing he could think to do was to slash at the goddess with his sword and somehow free his father. But in the back of his brain he knew it was a hopeless effort."
Lady Lottyr might die. But that was unlikely. More likely, it would be his father who would die and the goddess, although sorely wounded, would kill Palimak as well.
Then Palimak saw Asper's shell horn on the floor where Safar had dropped it during his mad attack.
He lifted it up, thinking to blow and raise any spirit he could to help.
But then the Favorites cried, “Smash it, Little Master! Smash it! It's the only chance we have!"
So he threw the horn to the floor and it shattered into hundreds of pieces.
And the last thing Palimak saw was his father driving his dagger once more into the breast of the Goddess Lottyr.
There might have been an explosion, but even years later, when telling the tale to friends, Palimak couldn't swear that was happened next.
If the truth were known, there was only a flash of golden light.
And the sound of angry voices.
Whose voices?
Palimak didn't know.
All he could say was that for a long, long time he seemed to exist in another world.
He saw farmers reaping harvests of plenty.
He saw forests rising unopposed to the sky.
He saw horses, fabulous horses, running wild across exotic plains.
And he saw seas, wild booming seas, full of flying fish and playing dolphins and sounding whales.
All eager for the promises of tomorrow.
But the sight that thrilled him the most was the sight of thousands of little turtles breaking free from their sandy nests and swimming out to sea.
Where no monsters—human or demon—waited to take them.
CHAPTER FIFTY SIX
THE RINGMASTER
It was Leiria's turn at the wheel.
All was peaceful on the airship as they sailed with summer winds to far Syrapis—and home.
Beneath her were the ships of the Kyranian fleet, every man happy at his survival.
Far off in the distance, she could see the destruction of Hadin. The volcano was still exploding, venting its wrath on all who had opposed it.
Hadin was gone, turned to molten earth and boiling seas just as Safar had seen in his boyhood dream.
But there was a difference, as Safar had explained to her after the airship had picked him up. The volcano had rent the very earth, to be sure. Except that now its effect was purely local. Both evil people and good people had died in its blast. But now there was no poison cloud to envelop the entire world.
Innocent or guilty, only the people of Hadin had been destroyed. After Safar's struggle with the Hells and the Lady Lottyr, the volcano's effect had been limited.
The rest of the world was safe. And might even return, Safar had said, to its previous bounty.
Leiria looked over the big wheel to see Safar tending Khysmet, giving the stallion sweet corn to eat. And there was Palimak standing next to his father, offering the black mare the same.
Palimak was now fully a demon—from his curled, dagger-armed toes to his green horned brow. And Leiria loved him just as much as the half-human, half-demon child she'd once carried on her back.
She wasn't sure how all the people she loved the most had come to be with her again. Eeda had directed the airship over the volcano, then she and Jooli had cast many powerful spells.
And then Safar and Palimak, together with Khysmet and the mare, had suddenly been with them. Both men had been exhausted and near death, but Jooli and Eeda had used all their skills to resurrect them.
Now Safar and Palimak—still wobbly in their legs—were feeding their charges and whispering words of comfort to them.
Leiria should have been bursting with happiness. Instead, she found herself glowering at the scene. Maddeningly, since his return Safar had kept her at an emotional distance. He was kind, his words gentle, but whenever they were alone together, he became uneasy and made some weak excuse to part company.
And now there he was, feeding that damned horse again! Talking so tenderly to Khysmet that it drove her crazy. Suddenly, she realized she was jealous. Which was ridiculous. How could she feel jealous of a horse?
She gritted her teeth, not sure who she was angrier at, Safar or herself.
A booming voice came from behind her. “Avast, lass! Can't you see you're steering the wrong course!"
Confused, she turned and saw Biner standing there with a wide grin on his face.
"I don't understand,” she said, pointing at the compass. “I'm steering just where you said I ought to."
Biner brushed her aside with a mighty hand and took the wheel. “Maybe you were and maybe you weren't,” Biner said. “But the plain fact is, it sure as hells isn't the right course for you."
He pointed at Safar. “There's your setting, lass,” Biner said. “Can't you see that he's waitin’ for you, but he just doesn't know it yet? Because after all that's happened he's not sure you'll have him."
Leiria need no further prodding. Immediately, she broke away and raced across the deck to Safar.
She grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around.
"Come here, you!” she said.
Then she kissed the surprised look off his face.
And they embraced for a long, long time.
Biner watched, smiling. Then Arlain came up to stand beside him.
Looking at the scene, she said, “I'm glad to thee that Thafar finally know'th that thomebody lov'th him!"
Arlain sighed, breathing a little fire and smoke. And she added, sadly, “I only wi'th he knew it wath me."
Biner patted her, then spun the wheel, turning the airship about. “Never mind that, lass,” he said. “I've set a course for the next landfall. And in one day's time we'll find kids and rubes aplenty and you'll forget all that."
Arlain brightened for a moment, then frowned, worried.
She cast down her dragon eyes, saying “But Thafar thaid the god'th might not be happy. What if they curth our performanthe and ruin everything?"
Biner slapped Arlain on her pretty back and bellowed, “Be damned to the Gods, Arlain! Be damned to them all.
"And be damned to everything but the circus!"
Arlain burst into laughter. And she laughed so long and so hard that she set the airship on fire.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
The character of Safar Timura is loosely based on Omar Khayyam, the ancient Persian poet and astronomer. The son of a tentmaker, Khayyam rose to become the chief astrologer of the sultan, his boyhood friend. Just as Safar, the son of a potter, rose to become the chief wazier of the king, his boyhood friend.
Khayyam (1044-1123 A.D) is
best known to us today for his poetry, collected in the remarkable “Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam.” Of all the many English translations of this work, I prefer Edward Fitzgerald's.
Students of mathematical history also know him as a pioneer in algebra and geometry. Experts say his mathematical discoveries remained unmatched for centuries—to the time of Descartes (1596-1650).
I first came across “The Rubaiyat” in a bazaar when I was a boy living on the island of Cyprus. Battered and torn, I only paid a few pennies for it. But the first words I read tumbled out like upturned chests of gold:
"Awake! for the morning in the bowl of night
Has flung the stone that puts the stars to flight.
And lo! the hunter of the east has caught
The sultan's turret in a noose of light."
"The Tales of the Timuras” were inspired by that most fortuitous discovery.
Another major influence on these books—and those that may follow—are the hundreds of e-mails I have received from readers all over the world these past few years.
I'd particularly like to thank Julie Mitchell, who kindly contributed her own poem to “The Gods Awaken,” which is printed here with her permission. You'll find the poem in the chapter titled, “Jooli's Song."
Ms. Mitchell, a Texas scientist, was the winner of my “Be A Hero Contest,” which drew thousands of entries. The warrior woman character, Jooli, is named after her.
One of the main villains of this book—King Rhodes—was named for another contest winner, Bob Rhodes, a California engineer. Bob, a lovely fellow, is nothing like the barbarian king portrayed in this book. Another villain, Clayre—the Queen Witch—is named after my kind and gentle reader Clayre Kitchen, who lives in the United Kingdom.
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