Kaspar discussed McGoin's idea with Flynn and Kenner; despite their concerns, they decided it would still be best to consult a priest in the next city. They chatted after eating and then settled in for the night.
Kaspar awoke. He had banged his head so many times on the wagon above that he came wide-awake and rolled over, his hand grabbing the hilt of his sword, and crawled out from under the wagon before standing up. He looked around, his heart pounding.
No one was standing guard. 'McGoin!' he shouted, waking up Kenner and Flynn.
Both men were out from under the wagon, weapons in hand, in an instant. Kaspar glanced around and saw no sign of McGoin.
A shout from beyond the firelight had Kaspar and the others racing. Before they were three steps on their way, a scream cut through the night that froze them in their tracks. It was McGoin, but the sound he made was a shriek of terror so profound, so primal, that each man's first instinct was to turn and run. Kaspar said, 'Wait!'
Flynn and Kenner hesitated, then came a gurgling, strangled scream that died suddenly.
Kaspar shouted, 'Spread out!'
He had taken less than a dozen steps when he came upon McGoin, or what was left of him. Beyond him, a thing—roughly man-shape but of much larger proportions—stood in the darkness. It had shoulders twice the size of any man living, and its legs were reversed, like a horse's or goat's hind legs. The face was obscured in the darkness of a moonless night, but Kaspar could see there was nothing remotely human about it. At the creature's feet lay the body of McGoin. His head had been torn from his shoulders, and the creature had ripped off his arms and legs, tossing them aside. The trader's torso had been pulled apart so that no piece of his anatomy was recognizable; he had been reduced to so much bloody pulp and meat.
Kaspar held up his sword and shouted, 'Circle behind it!'
He didn't wait to see if the others obeyed his command, for the creature was full upon him. He struck out and the creature raised its arm to block. When Kaspar's blade struck, sparks flew, as if metal was striking metal, although the sound it made was as if he had struck something made of very hard leather, and the shock that ran up his arm surprised him. He had never hit something this hard, even a man in armor in battle. He barely could hold on to his sword.
Flynn came at the creature from behind and struck it hard at the joint of head and neck, and all he did was achieve the same sparking display. Having no other ideas, Kaspar shouted, 'Back to the campfire!'
He faced the creature as he backed away, fearing to turn around lest the thing prove faster. He sensed rather than saw Flynn and Kenner racing past, and he shouted, 'Get brands! If steel won't hurt it, maybe fire will.'
As Kasper backed into the circle of the campfire's light, he could see the monster's face. It looked like a demented ape, with fangs that were exposed when it curled back its lips. They were black, as were the gums. The eyes were yellow and had black irises. The ears looked like nothing as much as webbed bat-wings, and the body like the torso of a man or large ape stuck upon the legs of a goat. Kaspar heard Flynn shout, 'Step to your left!'
Kaspar did so and Flynn ran past him, thrusting a flaming torch at the creature. It recoiled, but it didn't turn and flee. After a moment, Kenner shouted, 'The fire doesn't hurt it. It just seems annoyed by it.'
Suddenly Kaspar had a thought. 'Hold it at bay!'
He raced for the wagon and leapt into the back. Pulling aside the tarpaulin, he used his sword to pry up the lid of the coffin. He reached in and took the black sword that had been placed with the armor and jumped down from the wagon. With three strides, he stepped between Flynn and Kenner and lashed out with the sword.
The reaction was instantaneous. The black blade struck the creature and instead of just producing sparks, the edge cut into the thing's arm. It howled in pain and stepped back, but Kaspar was on it, pressing his advantage.
He lashed out, first high, then low, and the monster stumbled back. Each cut brought a howl and finally the creature turned to flee. Kaspar leapt forward. He lashed out, taking it across the neck. The head went flying off in a graceful arc, and then dissolved into mist before Kaspar's eyes. The monster's body fell forward and also started to turn to vapor before it struck the ground. By the time Kaspar could kneel to examine it, it was gone. There was no sign of a struggle.
'What was that?' Kaspar breathed.
Kenner said, 'I thought you might know. You're the one who thought to get the black sword from the coffin.'
Kaspar realized the sword was thrumming in his hand as if he stood holding the rail of a ship which vibrated from slamming against the waves. 'I don't know why I did that,' said Kaspar. 'It just . . . came to me to get this sword.'
All three men were staring out where McGoin lay and Kenner said, 'We need to bury him.'
Kaspar nodded. 'But we need to wait until dawn so we can find all . . .' He left the thought unfinished. All three men knew their companion was scattered over a wide area and the grisly task of gathering up all the pieces of him and putting them in a grave lay ahead. It was something better done by daylight.
They felt the presence before they heard anything. As one, all three men turned to see the black armor, standing upright behind them. Kaspar turned, the black blade at the ready, while Kenner and Flynn held up the burning torches and retreated.
The armor made no threatening gesture, but slowly held out its hands, palms upward, and waited. After nearly a minute of no one moving, Kaspar took a single step forward and waited. The armor remained motionless.
Slowly, Kaspar put the sword into the armor's outstretched hands. Instantly it wheeled about and moved back to the wagon. With an inhuman hop, it jumped into the wagon, which bounced under its weight, then stepped into the coffin and lay down.
The three men didn't move.
After nearly a minute of total silence and stillness, Kenner ventured to move to the wagon. The others followed. The armor lay in the coffin as it had when Kaspar had pried open the lid. For almost another minute they just looked at it. Finally Kaspar put out his hand and touched it, ready to pull back if there was any response.
It felt exactly as it had before.
The three men exchanged questioning looks, but no one said anything. Finally Kaspar climbed up on the wagon bed and replaced the lid of the coffin. He said, 'Hammer,' and waited until Kenner handed him one from the toolbox under the driver's seat. Without hurry, Kaspar carefully realigned the heavy iron nails that had pulled out with the lid and then diligently hammered them all back into place.
Then he said, 'We will find a priest tomorrow.' The other men nodded. For the balance of the night, none of them closed an eye.
The wagon rolled through the streets of Shamsha, an hour before sundown. This was the first population center Kaspar would actually call a city. The walls could easily be breached by his Olaskon engineers in less than a week's siege, but that was a week longer than any he had seen so far. The guards were called prefects, which struck Kaspar as odd, as that was the title given to a rank of senior military officer in Queg. At one time in ages past, this must have been a military post. The senior prefect gave the wagon a cursory inspection and then threatened to delay them for an indefinite period until Kaspar bribed him.
The three men had been silent most of the day. They had gathered together what they could of McGoin and buried him deep in a hole in the meadow. No one had spoken as they stood around the makeshift grave, until at last Kenner had said, 'May Lims-Kragma quickly speed him to a better life.'
Flynn and Kaspar grunted agreement, and they packed up their camp and set off. It was nothing any of them could come to grips with. The monster and the armor coming to life were events so unbelievable that Kaspar knew the others were as reluctant to discuss it as he was; it was as if to speak of it was to admit the possibility that what they had witnessed was real.
Yet what troubled Kaspar most of all was the familiar feeling he had recognized. Something about all the carnage and evil had a recogniza
ble quality to it. An echo of an earlier time in his life pressed into his mind, as if trying to remember a song once heard and barely remembered, yet associated with a memorable event, a festival or celebration perhaps. But in the field at night, it had been something unknown and unknowable, and like a man struggling to remember that nameless tune he at last grew tired of the process and pushed it aside. Better to concentrate on what to do next than dwell too long on what had already happened. It wasn't as if he could change the past.
They found an inn with an impressive stabling yard and before retiring, Kaspar inspected the wagon and watched as Kenner and Flynn hauled the chest up to their room. When he had finished with the horses, he sought out the innkeeper.
The owner of this establishment was a prosperous man of advancing years, given to wearing a gaudy waistcoat over his puff-sleeved white shirt and almost pristine apron. He wore a knit cap that came to a long peak which fell over his left shoulder. He saw Kaspar regarding the odd red-and-white-striped hat and said, 'Keeps me hair out of the soup. What can I do for you?'
'If a traveler needed to see a priest about something dark, which temple would be the right choice?'
'Well, that depends,' observed the innkeeper, his pudgy face set in a smile as his watery blue eyes regarded Kaspar.
'On what?'
'If you seek to do something dark, or if you wish to prevent something dark from happening.'
Kaspar nodded. 'The latter.'
With a wide smile, the innkeeper said, 'Out the front door, turn left. Go down the street until you reach the square. On the other side of the fountain lies the temple of Geshen-Amat. They will help you.'
'Thank you,' said Kaspar. He hurried up to the room and informed his two companions of what the innkeeper had told him. Flynn said, 'Why don't you and Kenner go, and I'll stay here?'
Kaspar said, 'I think this is the type of inn where our gold will be safe.'
Flynn laughed. 'This chest is the least of my concerns.' He motioned with his head to the window outside. 'It's that thing we are burdened with that I fear. And I just feel better with one of us being close at hand.'
Kaspar said, 'Then open the chest. I don't know a lot of temples that work magic just because you ask nicely.'
Flynn took the key out of his purse and opened the lock. Kaspar said, 'Give me your belt-pouch,' to Kenner, who did as he was asked. Kaspar picked over the odd-sized and -shaped coins, fetching out a few coppers, and half a dozen golden coins, then loaded it up with silver. 'Any more and it's robbery,' Kaspar observed.
Kaspar and Kenner bid Flynn farewell and headed down the stairs and out of the door.
As evening fell, the streets of Shamsha were crowded. Inns were alive with laughter and music, and many merchants were trying for that last sale of the day before closing up shop. The streets were festooned with banners and garlands, as the populace made ready for the Midsummer's Festival that was less than a week away. Street lamps had been wrapped in colorful paper covers, bathing the ground in a soft glow, lending a gaiety to the scene that put in stark contrast the dark mood Kaspar and Kenner felt. As the two men reached the market square, they saw carts being loaded up as merchants shut down their stalls to head for home.
Across the square they saw the temple of Geshen-Amat. It was a large building with wide steps leading up to an ornately decorated marble facade, a bas-relief of gods and angels, demons and men.
On either side of the base of the steps rested statues. One was a man with the head of an elephant, and the other was a man with the head of a lion. Kaspar paused to inspect them for a moment as a monk walked down the steps. He had short hair and wore only a simple brown robe and sandals.
'You seek entrance to the temple?' he asked politely.
Kaspar said, 'We seek help.'
'What may the servants of Geshen-Amat do for you?'
'We need to speak to the leader of your temple.'
The monk smiled, and Kaspar was suddenly visited by the odd notion that he had seen this man before. He was short, balding, and had the odd cast of features you saw on certain Keshians—dark eyes, high cheekbones and dark hair, with an almost golden tone to the skin.
'The Master of the Order is always pleased to speak to those in need. Please, follow me.'
The two men trailed after the monk as he led them into the vast entrance of the temple. On both walls more bas-reliefs were cut into the stone, and every few feet a hanging lamp of oil burned, casting flickering shadows that made the bas-reliefs look as if they were moving.
Along the walls small shrines to various gods and demigods were situated, and before several of these people prayed. Kaspar realized he was observing rites in a faith he knew nothing about, for to the best of his knowledge the temples of his homeland had no counterpart to Geshen-Amat. For a brief moment he wondered if there truly was a god, and if so, were his powers and influence limited only to this land?
They reached a large hall containing dozens more shrines, but opposite the entrance rose up a heroic statue of a seated man. His face was stylized, his eyes, nose, and lips being rendered in a manner Kaspar could only call simplistic. In his homeland, as well as the other kingdoms of the north, the effigies of the gods and goddesses were of human proportions, save when they were small icons placed in roadside shrines, or adorning the homes of the faithful. But this statue was easily thirty feet from its base to the top of its head. The figure wore a simple robe, with one shoulder bare, and held out his hands, palms upward, as if granting a benediction. To its left and right, in roughly human proportion, sat the two figures Kaspar and Kenner had seen in front of the temple, the men with the heads of an elephant and lion.
Before the statue sat a lone monk, his hair white with age. The younger monk escorting them said, 'Wait here, please.' He continued forward and spoke briefly into the older monk's ear and then returned. 'Master Anshu will see you momentarily.'
'Thank you,' said Kenner.
Kaspar said, 'I must plead ignorance of your faith, brother. I am from a distant land. Can you enlighten me?'
The monk grinned and with unexpected humor said, 'Would that enlightenment were that quickly achieved, my friend. Then we would have little work to do in this realm.'
Kaspar smiled at the jest, and said, 'Tell me about Geshen-Amat, please.'
'He is the godhead, the one true divinity of which all others are but reflections. He is the one above all.'
'Ishap?' Kaspar asked quietly.
'Ah, you are from a distant land. The Balancer is but one aspect of Geshen-Amat. Those who sit at his feet, Gerani—' he pointed to the figure with the elephant's head '—and Sutapa—' then the figure with the lion's head '—are avatars, sent forth by Geshen-Amat to teach mankind the One True Path. It is not an easy path, but it does eventually lead to enlightenment.'
'Then what of all the other temples?' asked Kenner.
'Geshen-Amat provides many ways to travel the One True Path. There are avatars for every man and woman to embrace.'
Then Kaspar understood. 'Amar-al!'
The monk nodded. 'In the ancient language, yes.'
'In my land that was considered an heresy and a terrible war was fought over the doctrine.'
'You are an educated man,' said the monk. 'Here is Master Anshu.'
The elder monk approached and bowed before Kaspar and Kenner. He was wry and his skin was as brown as sunburned leather, but he had bright brown eyes. His head was completely shaved, and he wore the same brown robe and sandals as the young monk. The men returned the greeting and then the old monk said, 'My disciple says you are in need, brothers. What may I do for you?'
'We have come into possession of an artifact, perhaps a relic, and we believe it may be cursed.'
The older monk turned to his disciple and said, 'Bring tea to my quarters.' Turning to Kaspar and Kenner, he said, 'Please, follow me.'
He led them out of a side door and through a long hallway, by the quiet. 'You can barely hear the sounds of the city.'
'Meditation is served by silence,' said the old monk. He led them to a door and opened it for them. 'Come, please.'
He indicated that they should remove their boots and Kenner and Kaspar complied. The room was large but sparsely furnished. A reed mat filled more of the floor, upon which the old monk sat. There was a small, low table to one side, which he reached over and placed between them. A moment later the young monk entered and provided cups and a pot of tea. He served Kenner and Kaspar then Master Anshu. When he departed, the old monk said, 'Now, tell me about this cursed relic.'
Kenner started slowly, telling the entire tale of his group and how they had traded with local villagers for the artifacts they had looted from what appeared to be a tomb. When he detailed McGoin's gristly murder the night before, the old monk nodded. 'It may very well be that this is a cursed item. We live on a world that has seen elder races, and the burial places of the dead are often protected by wards of dark magic. I should like to see this relic.'
'Now?'
The old monk smiled. 'If not now, when?' He stood up and without saying a word, motioned for the two men to put their boots on and return to the garden. He followed them outside where the young monk waited and said, 'We shall accompany these gentlemen.'
The young monk bowed and fell into step beside his master. They quickly made their way down the steps of the temple, across the square, and down the street to the inn.
Kenner said, 'I'll go get Flynn,' and went into the inn, while Kaspar led the monks through the gate to the courtyard. They approached the wagon and the old monk's steps faltered. He turned to his disciple and said, 'Return to the temple at once! Bring Master Oda and Master Yongu. Hurry!'
The young monk ran off, and the Master Anshu said, 'I can sense at this distance that you have something in that wagon that is . . . wrong.'
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