The Eyes of Sarsis

by Andrew J Offutt

  “We’re alone now — why lie? It’s obvious there are no orders. You want to kill me out of personal malice, because my daughter and I made a fool of you at the Wayfarer.”

  “No, by the Cud! I swear the duke came to the armory and ordered me to find and execute you. He gave me an official death warrant, signed by the king. Here it is.” Captain Despan reached into his tunic and pulled out a candle. “I — I can’t understand — this was a … a scroll with the king’s signature and seal.”

  Caranga did understand. “The, ah, duke ; he was wearing his emerald signet?”

  “Why, yes.”

  “But when you met me, immediately thereafter, I had the real ring — this one. Since the man who gave you those orders wore a false ring, it’s clear that he is an impostor.”

  Despan’s face was ashen, his brow covered with sweat. Though a brave man in facing physical danger, his voice trembled. “This was no common impersonation, but black sorcery. I have obeyed false orders and no doubt my life is forfeit. In the meantime — you speak for the king.”

  “Then come on, man; we’ve wasted too much time already!”

  Caranga turned and led the captain toward the battle. He was relieved by this turn of fortune, since he had feared he would need to rescue Tiana during the confusion of a three-cornered fight. His relief ended when Caranga saw the interior of the building and the conflict. A glance at the idol told him this was a temple of Drood. Forty guardsmen battled the Arms of Drood — religious assassins — outnumbering them three to one and were getting the worst of it. Despan barked sharp orders, getting his men back onto an orthodox formation. The fact that they wore armor, and the foe none, worked to their great advantage in sword combat. Unfortunately several of the Arms had bows, and the orthodox, close-packed formation was painfully vulnerable to arrows. At this range guardsman after guardsman dropped to zipping shafts.

  While all about him was a fury of frantic action, Caranga stood silent. Watching. Thinking. Although the soldiers were better armed and trained fighters, they were up against fanatics. It was clear that the odds were too great. Conventional tactics must result in defeat. The cultists were fighting with the courage of trapped rats and clearly lacked leadership. They were a mob, blind in fear and rage, and Caranga knew ways to destroy such a foe. He caught Despan’s mailed shoulder in a big hand.

  “Six good men, quick, armed with spears!”

  Caranga explained the rest of his plan as he led the six lancers back through the doorway. They took up positions in the middle of the corridor, Caranga in the center and slightly in front of the soldiers. Inside, Captain Despan shouted an order, and again. In tight formation his men shifted away from the door. The way out of the temple was apparently free and the leaderless mob of Arms rushed to escape. The archers leapt from their vantage points to join the rush. The disciples became a tangled mass, pushing and shoving each other, struggling to force their way through the doorway. Some stabbed their fellows while all clawed their way toward escape.

  Having allowed the Arms to cluster about the door, the guardsmen attacked.

  They moved in perfect formation, a solid wedge of armor and swords. Heavy booted feet struck the floor in unison as they marched forward. They were no longer a group of men but were becoming a single killing machine. The floor shook to their tread. Some of the cultists turned to fight, but most redoubled their efforts to force through the doorway. Those who fought died quickly, some bravely with their wounds in front; others, fleeing, took coward’s wounds. With the swords of the guardsmen at their backs the fratricidal fighting spread rapidly among the Arms. Every man’s knife was red with the blood of his fellows. Remorselessly the soldiers moved forward, wasting the Arms of Drood.

  Meanwhile, he who was the stopper in this bottle waged unequal combat. Caranga from head to foot was now a red man, and some of it was his own blood. His right leg had been stabbed by a man he’d thought dead. The man whose dagger projected from his side had been dead, but the press of bodies had kept him from falling and impaled Caranga on the weapon. The hallway was deep with corpses, the floor slippery with blood.

  Still the Arms came. To them, Caranga appeared a horrible primitive god of slaughter, but he knew himself to be failing rapidly.

  Every stroke of his cutlass slew a man — and forced fresh blood from the great wounds in his leg and side as well as a host of lesser cuts all over his body. The world was a graying haze before him. Was he seeing double or were there two identical cultists facing him? A swift underhand stroke disemboweled the rightward twin, but Caranga could not recover in time to evade the other’s knife. The last spearman impaled the attacker before himself collapsing. Had one of the Arms of Drood thrown a knife, or had the man collapsed from his wounds? Caranga could not tell. Nor did it make any difference. He was alone.

  Every breath was an agony. His head spun and his arm was gone heavy as lead. The next disciple was a tall blur. Caranga aimed a thrust at the man’s chest. The wight twisted slightly, and the cutlass glanced off his steel armor. Caranga saw a flash of steel and his cutlass was smitten from his hand. Next moment he was grabbed by several men he could not see and his arms pinned to his sides.

  The tall blur slapped Caranga’s face and shouted, “Wake up, man. It’s over. We won.”

  Caranga relaxed, and allowed himself to be almost carried back into the temple. Though the temptation to faint was great, there was something he must know.

  “My daughter! Did you find her? Is she safe?”

  A figure, dressed in an ill-fitting black tunic over large pants, spoke. “I’m here, Father. You rescued me from great danger. Sit down; I’ll bandage your wounds and tell you about it.”

  As Tiana worked, she related her adventures. She told in great detail of killing the spider, then related seeing the Arms gathered around the wall of the entrance hall. “I’m sure you will find concealed archer’s ports all along that hallway, Captain. It’s a clever device to slaughter helpless men. Someone knew we might be coming here, probably with guardsmen to help us. That someone ordered the High Priest of Drood to ambush us.”

  “Why should a high priest take orders?” Despan asked.

  “He thought it was a vision of his god.”

  Captain Despan made the sign for protection from evil. “That same someone came to me in the semblance of the duke and ordered me to kill you both!”

  “I’m glad you had the wit not to obey such an order. You over there, look under the altar! If you find wine, bring it here. As I was saying, I saw the dogs lying in ambush, and I decided the best plan was to kill their leader. Since he was famous for killing men with his bare hands by breaking their bones, I broke his arm and his neck.” Tiana thought her story was not injured by omitting irrelevant details such as her capture. “After that I took refuge in the circle of darkness over there. I knew the cultists would not dare follow me, since they suppose there’s a demon in the darkness.”

  Caranga half raised himself to see the circle of lamps and the blackness that no light could penetrate. “What’s hid in that … in that?”

  “Nothing dangerous,” Tiana replied, almost airily. “Several dead bodies I found provided these clothes — and something else. Here Father, drink some wine and I’ll show you.” She opened the bottle the soldier had brought, handed it to Caranga, and ran toward the darkness. She vanished, to reappear a moment later dragging something. “Captain, give me a hand.”

  She and Despan carried the form to Caranga. He started to rise, but Tiana pressed him back. “No Father, I want you to stay off that leg until we get to the ship and I can properly sew it up.”

  She and Despan placed a dark figure on the floor. The old man was black as Caranga, save for his white hair. He was tall and very thin, his hard face showing suffering and great nobility. The black body was not a corpse. The flesh was hard as marble, and cold, far colder than ice.

  Tiana related what she had heard Orgar say. “Father,” she concluded, “can you make sense of these even
ts?”

  “Yes, I think I can,” Caranga muttered thoughtfully. “Susha’s sweet … eyes! It appears our unknown enemy used the Arms as cat’s-paws by sending false visions to their priest. The first such vision ordered them to capture this man. They brought him here, blind and apparently helpless. But he is a mighty ju-ju man. His powers allowed him to conjure darkness, and so fight his enemies on even terms. The Arms lacked the stomach for such a fight, but he was still surrounded and powerless to leave this sweet place. So — he drew a map with soap. But how could he deliver it?” Caranga smiled and nodded at his daughter’s O-shaped mouth. “The second false vision ordered these plaguls to capture and slay one of the King’s Ears, who had found a clue to the whereabouts of the king’s daughter. They killed the spy on the high altar. It was then this man used his greatest and most dangerous magic. He sent forth his soul, out of his body, to reanimate the spy’s corpse. Using this dead messenger he sent us the map.”

  “But … Father … why didn’t he come back to life? Why is his body frozen and hard as stone?”

  “I know not, though I have heard stories of these things. The soul moves from body to body through a void of outer darkness. The live body it leaves is in contact with the darkness, and cold of the darkness enters it. As to his soul, perhaps it is lost and will yet return; perhaps it is destroyed.” Caranga tried to shrug, and winced. “There is a danger here, for this empty body is a gateway to our world. Captain, we’d best place this trust in your hands. If this body fails to wake before the new moon, burn it. Should it wake, look most closely into the eyes. If a true man looks back at you, do whatever he bids you. If not, destroy the thing as best you can, preferably with fire.”

  “But my life is forfeit, because I obeyed false orders and attacked you, Sir.”

  “Nonsense, boy, all’s well that ends well. In a few days orders will come from the king to destroy this sweet nest of assassins. Have your report of killing them ready but just don’t turn it in until after the orders come. The army is a little … touchy about that sort of thing.”

  “Father,” Tiana interrupted, “you’ve explained much but the key question is still unanswered. Who was this man? Can we trust the map he sent us?”

  “Do you know who Saint Theranos was?”

  “He was an ancient hero in a war against snake worshippers.”

  “No, he was a hero in the war against the Snake. I know not the full truth of these matters, but I have heard many grim legends. Of this much I am sure; the world is old and man is not the first lord of the earth. Humans gained the world by war and that war is not over. Now it’s a shadow war against an enemy unseen. Night can come upon a kingdom, and its rulers be men only in outward appearance. Those that were before us seek to come again. These things are seldom whispered of, but I have traveled the world and I know them to be true.”

  Tiana nodded slowly. “What has all this to do with this man?”

  “His name is Voomundo, Tiana. Like ancient Theranos, he is a hero of the war against the Snake. When I was young, not yet a warrior proven, there was a time of trouble. It started far from my home and spread slowly through the countryside. There were no changes one might see, but in village after village the spirit went from the people. The change was as if a herd of wild animals suddenly became tame. Fattened animals, awaiting slaughter. I traveled and I often saw large villages with but a few people in them. Where had the rest gone? No one seemed to know or care. Those of us who were not yet under the shadow were frightened and leaderless. We’d no idea where or how to strike. Then Voomundo came and the warriors rallied to him. O Susha — with fire and iron we cleaned our land! There were many battles, and in the last battle we followed Voomundo into a cave. We went deep into the earth and well it was that our leader was blind, for all light failed and we groped our way down. We met and fought a scaled and coiled thing.

  Many of us died but we slew it. Voomundo said he had other battles to fight, and he left before we could celebrate our victory.”

  Tiana raised her hand. “Father, I think you should rest now. You’ve lost much blood.”

  Caranga started to protest but the wine and blood-loss were too much for him. His heavy eyes shut and he went to sleep.

  While the guardsmen prepared a stretcher, Tiana made a rapid search and found her rapier and dagger. Soon she was leading the stretcher-bearers through the night-shrouded streets of Reme. A ridiculously clothed redhead, lithe as a cat and erect as a sapling, leading a score or so blood-splashed soldiers — who bore a large man on a litter — a man as red as he was black.

  They arrived in the harbor as the first rays of dawn struck the land. The change seemed symbolic to Tiana. She was leaving the tangled maze of the city for the bright open sea. She was leaving an unseen enemy who struck from darkness. From now on her foes must face her openly and taste her steel.

  She was pleased to find that Bardon had Vixen fully provisioned and ready to sail. Kathis and forty picked soldiers of Han were on board. Vixen would be crowded, though not terribly, since there was no cargo. The ship was ready; the tide had come; Tiana was eager to sail. And there was an obstacle not easily removed. King Hower, in link-mail over tunic and mailed leggings. Tiana met him eye to eye.

  “Your Highness, I realize you want to know what has happened, but tides do not wait for kings.”

  “Then sail.” He stared right back, hands behind him, legs braced.

  “But I can’t take you on such a dangerous voyage, lord King.”

  “The royal barge is standing by and can take me back to shore after our conference is complete, Captain Tiana”

  Tiana sighed. She wanted to be in command while her ship cleared the harbor. She wanted the clean ocean breeze in her face — and Hower was her king. He had a right to know what had occurred. Briefly Tiana summed up the events of the night.

  When she finished the king frowned thoughtfully. “We may need wizardly aid before this affair is ended. I have never allowed such in my court, for I believed an untrustworthy friend is worse than an enemy. If Voomundo does not revive, who will help us?”

  “Perhaps Sulun Tha. He is a white wizard, although I have no wish to meet him again.” Tiana hesitated, then decided the king was entitled to the whole truth. “The other possibility is Pyre.”

  “Pyre! But he cares nothing for us.”

  “He has an obligation. I have not told Your Highness how I killed the wizard Lamarred. When I learned that he — or rather it — had murdered my brother, I resolved to take vengeance. Pyre told you that Lamarred was a demon, vulnerable to no mortal weapon. That was true. It could be destroyed only by a dangerous means, one that might unleash the fiend on the world. Pyre feared to take that chance, for he knew he would be the first target of the released monster. Pyre tried to kill me, to prevent the killer’s loosing. When that failed, he tried to argue me out of my vengeance.” Tiana gazed asea where dawnlight gilded amethystine swells.

  “Fascinating, but how does it help us? Pyre will not be grateful for a favor he did not request.”

  “He was sure my plans would fail, that I would be slain, and Lamarred unchained. His pride was hurt, you see. I had shamed him as a coward who attacked his friends rather than his enemies. Accordingly he swore an oath to avenge me. ’Twas an act of bravado, to salve his vanity.”

  With one finger the king scratched under his chaplet. “But that oath is void, Captain. Even if the wizard Pyre were a man to keep good faith to his word, which I doubt, this vow carries no obligation since you weren’t killed.”

  “The exact words, lord King of Ilan, were ‘I shall avenge your death,’ with no qualifications. Moreover, Pyre swore not by the Cud which is the First Oath by the means which Created the World, nor did he swear by the Back, the Second Oath by the means which Sustain the World. He swore the Third Oath, by the Fires which shall Destroy the World.”

  King Hower’s face showed shocked surprise. The Third Oath was seldom sworn and the consequences of such swearing were never pleasa
nt. “In that case, he is bound. It’s a grim comfort, but whatever foe slays you, Pyre must attack.”

  “Exactly, lord King. Of course this is no promise of aid for the Princess Jiltha, but there is no reason for Pyre to go out of his way to harm her.”

  The king nodded, turned decisively with a ching of armor. “I fear there is little I can do other than send messengers to Sulun Tha up in Collada. Your foster father spoke of a hidden war … do you think it true or the ravings of a wounded man? From your account he said these things with much wine and little blood in him.”

  “I’m sure he recognized Voomundo and that the map can be trusted. The rest may be but a tale or may be true. It does not matter, for all we want is your daughter. The war, if war there be, is not our affair, King Hower.”

  “No, Tiana. I sinned in disturbing the Sacred Grove. I do not want that sin compounded into black disaster for all humanity. Save my daughter if you can, but do what is best for all men.”

  “And women,” Tiana asked innocently, “lord King?”

  “Figure of speech,” Hower grumped, giving her a look.

  “Very well, Your Majesty.” Tiana’s face showed dutiful obedience while inwardly she cursed. This was typical of Hower. First create a mess, then order strict adherence to noble principles while cleaning it up. If he ran true to form, he would now demand that she do her job with impossible perfection. Best she change the subject.

  “Lord King, I just remembered. I’ve had no chance to prepare that list of dishonest innkeepers.”

  “Bardon attended to that. I must go, but first I must explain certain things. If I were simply a distressed father, you would need only return my daughter in good health, Tiana. But I am a king and Jiltha is the throne princess. In the normal course of events in a few years I would look among our neighbors and choose a king’s son, a boy both wise and good. I would arrange Jiltha’s marriage to him. Such orderly succession assures continued good government.”

  Oh, absolutely , thought Tiana.

  “If Jiltha is brought home dishonored, no marriage can be arranged. With no lawful heir the throne will belong to him who can seize it by force. The histories of wars of succession are grim. Often the victor is the pretender who gained foreign assistance by selling his country into slavery. You must find Jiltha before she can be dishonored, and you must guard her most carefully during the return voyage. Jiltha is a child. Unfortunately she is also old enough to think herself a woman. Her mind is full of romantic nonsense and she resents the prospect of an arranged marriage. Kathis is handsome, brave and very ambitious. You will need his aid in the coming battle, for he is the finest warrior in Ilan. Still, sending him to rescue the princess is akin to setting a wolf to guard a sheepfold.”