Kyrik and the Lost Queen

by Gardner F Fox

  Kyrik sat beside her, putting his back to the wall. He felt no tiredness, only a gathering resentment against the fate that had prisoned him in this maze. The crystal ball in his pouch made a pressure against his thigh. Reaching into the pouch, he took out the ball and scowled at it.

  He rolled it across the paving-stones of the maze floor, and nestled himself more comfortably against the wall.

  "Sleep, girl. You need it. "I'm hungry, Kyrik. "I am myself. But there's no food in this place." She was too weak to do more than nod her head. After a time she slid off the block and lay full-length upon the maze floor. Her eyelids closed, and she slept.

  For a time, Kyrik remained awake, his eyes running up and down the passageway, then sliding toward the broken ceiling through the openings of which he could see the first faint stars.

  He slid down to lie on the floor and closed his eyes. He too would sleep, if his empty belly would let him, and tomorrow, with luck, he would discover the way out of this place.

  Darkness enveloped the maze. Hours later, the crystal ball began to glow. From deep within it a brightness took shape and grew. Upward from the heart of that globe came a brilliance which shed no light. It rose into the maze, quivered a moment, and then took shape.

  A naked woman stood in the maze, smiling down at Kyrik. Her long golden hair hung down

  her back, almost to her buttocks. gray eyes softened as they regarded the warrior-warlock, and the pink tips of her breasts rose and fell as she breathed.

  A moment only she paused, then she reached out to touch his shoulder.

  Kyrik was awake in an instant, a hand on his dagger-hilt.

  He stared upward into a face so beautiful the breath caught in his throat. "Illis," he whispered. “Illis of the soft breasts, of the curving loins.”

  His hand stabbed out, caught that slim wrist, brought her naked body down against him. Illis giggled fitfully. But she made no attempt to escape the arms that held her so firmly nor did she seek to evade the lips that reached for her mouth to kiss it.

  “Foolish Kyrik," she whispered between those kisses. “Mad Kyrik, who roams the world and starves and fights, when he might have a kingdom all his own."

  "If you went with the kingdom, I would take it.

  “Na, na. You know I cannot leave my own worlds for too long a period of time."

  He glanced sideways at the sleeping Adorla Mathandis. “She’s pretty weak. Is she to die in here?"

  Illis frowned prettily. “Do you think I’m watching over you to let her die? Na, na. There will be food. In time. And horses to carry you north into Alkinoor.”

  She sighed. “But there will be dangers, Kyrik.

  Even I cannot prevent those. Marrassa has been imprisoned a long time. He rages. He is vengeful. If he escapes, as those two men in Alkinoor want him to....".

  Illis nestled close within the arms that held her. “You must stop those men, Kyrik. The father of the gods wishes it, as I do myself.

  "Long ago we imprisoned Marrassa when his blasphemies made a stench to the nostrils in this world of men. Now he seeks escape, to conduct once again those obscenities which once came close to destroying men and women.

  "You must stop him." Kyrik touched one of her breasts, fondled it. Illis stirred, but did not push away his hand. From where her head was pillowed on his chest, she raised her eyes to gaze deep into his own.

  "You are our only hope, Kyrik," she added. "And here I sit, lost in a labyrinth, with a goddess in my arms and a queen starving for food and drink on the floor beside me." He added, rather bitterly, "If the gods want my help so much, let them lend a little of their own."

  Her soft palm covered his mouth. "Hush. You mustn't speak blasphemy against Avalar, who is the father of gods."

  "Does this Avalar want Marrassa contained?"

  “Of course. It's why I'm here."

  "Then let Avalar show me some sign of his favor.”

  There was mutiny in Kyrik, a cold anger against these gods who moved men about in their lands as men themselves might move the pieces in the board games they played. It was his sweat, his blood, which paid the price of the victories which these gods won. He ought to be rewarded for that sweat and blood.

  He said something of this to Illis, not caring whether he offended the god-father or not. Illis sighed, moved lazily against him as if to cress him with her body.

  "You shall have help," she promised. “But when? Am I to thirst and starve forever? Walk across the barren land with my strength oozing out of me with every step? When do the gods offer their help?"

  "Soon, now. Soon." She slid from his embrace, extended her hand to him. Kyrik gloomed at her, still mistrusting these gods and goddesses who wanted so much from him yet offered so little. He grunted, caught her hand and rose to his feet, towering above her. He glanced at the sleeping Adorla, but Illis shook her head.

  “Na, na. Let her sleep. Come you with me, Kyrik.”

  He walked with her, letting her lead him along the passageway, after she had first picked up the crystal ball. She carried that ball in a hand, and it sone as if with inner fires, to light their way.

  There were turns and twists in this labyrinth, but Illis walked along as though they held no mystery for her supernal senses. From time to time, Kyrik caught a faint whiff of the perfume she had on her flesh, and found it sweet and tantalizing.

  In time they came to a narrow opening, blocked now by a wooden doorway. "Open it," she whispered, standing back, and Kyrik did so.

  He stared into a room in which a score of horses stood restlessly, saddled and bridled. Beyond them was a ramp leading upward to the barren land, and where the opening of that ramp was,

  Kyrik could make out stars.

  “All you need do is take a horse and go,” Illis whispered. “But first— "

  Her soft hand caught his big one, drew him with her past the mounts who nickered and tossed their heads in greeting. Kyrik thought that the poor beasts must be half-starved, but there was no time to spend on them, for Illis was taking him up the ramp and into what had, at one time long ago, been a vast courtyard.

  His eyes ran around that courtyard, seeing low walls crumbled to the ground in places, with here and there a broken statue. Grass grew between the paving stones, and here and there those flat stones were thrust upward as though by frost.

  Illis walked straight forward, as though to a goal.

  She came to what seemed to have been a fountain at one time, though it was fallen now and lay in shards along the ground. Tangled vines and twisters made a growth that half obliterated the stones of the fountain, yet Illis made her way sure-footedly, pushing back the vines to reach the fallen fountain.

  She knelt, putting out a hand. “That piece there, Kyrik. Lift it. Smash it."

  He put his hands to the round ball of concrete, and raised it high. Down he brought it crashing on a stone paving block, and the concrete shattered.

  Out of that concrete rolled a jewel. It was tiny, no larger than a walnut, yet it seemed almost to glow. In sullen reds and angry scarlets was that glow, as though a fire gleamed inside that jewel and twisted, turning and revolving, in its efforts to escape.

  “Look not too long into that blaze, Kyrik!”

  Her pale hand came out, her fingers closed about the gem. Hidden from view, it was no more than a strange bauble, but Illis” face was taut and fearful. Her voice, when she spoke, was little more than a whisper.

  "Long ago was that jewel forged, in elemental fires at the hard core of the world. The father of all gods, Avalar himself, created it—against a need. Long has it been hidden, here in this fountain. Long, long."

  A cold wind blew across the empty garden, and strange shadows formed as the twin moons swept through the night sky. Even as he watched, it seemed that Illis' hand, by which she hid the jewel, was slowly turning red.

  "The god-father caused this jewel to be hidden here in this garden of ancient evil. Under the nose of Marrassa he hid it, knowing by his ancient wisdom that it
would be safe until that time came when there would be a need for it." Her green eyes glowed up at him. "That time is now, Kyrik. Evil is abroad in your world. Soon now, unless checked, that evil will unleash that—which-should-never-have-been-born: Marrassa Many are his powers, wicked are his ways. Even I—“

  Illis shuddered, but pushed away the arm Kyrik would have used to hold her close. She drew a deep breath. "Even I—with all my powers—am a little—afraid—of Marrassa!”

  “He must be a terrible god, indeed." Her full mouth twisted into a frightened smile. "Terrible. Vengeful. And he hates—you—more than any other human."

  Kyrik knew surprise, and Illis shook her head so that her long golden hair flew about like a veil blown by the wind.

  "You broke the firestone across his black altar. You drove him back, out of this world which he wants to make his own as once he did, so long ago that no man holds the memory of it. Not even in the oldest writings.

  She drew closer to Kyrik, she reached to the belt-pouch and brought out from inside it a little square of Inisfalian silk, that Kyrik had bought in the marketplace of Korvol for a gift to Myrnis. She held the silk under her right hand and slowly opened her fingers. Only when the gem was safely wrapped tightly in that silken scarf did the tension in her face relax.

  Quickly she tucked the jewel inside his belt pouch.

  Kyrik felt uneasiness come inside him. "I don't think I'll enjoy getting close enough to Marrassa to use that thing.

  “Nor would I, to tell the truth. He gaped at her. "If you fear Marrassa, and you're a goddess, how do you think I feel?"

  She gurgled soft laughter. “You are the weapon of the gods, Kyrik. Their living sword, if you prefer that."

  He rubbed his unshaven jaw thought fully. "I'm only a man, Illis. If Marrassa can scare goddesses, how do you think he'll make me feel?"

  "Angry. Oh, yes. You're a warrior and a warlock, but you're half a barbarian, even if you have been a king in Tantagol. You'll get angry, Kyrik. And human anger can be a good thing when properly directed.

  It was all too much for him, Kyrik thought. He hooked the goddess with an arm about her middle and half lifted her. "There's a flat stone over here, much like a bed, he pointed out.

  Illis broke free of him, shaking her head. "We have no time for such things, you and I. There is much to be done."

  She caught him by the hand and drew him with her across the courtyard and down the ramp into that large room that held the horses. She went swiftly, as though fearful that he might slide an arm about her and toss her down onto the floor.

  When they were back in the chamber where Adorla Mathandis still slept, Illis gave him a sideways glance in which glee and anger lurked. She ran ahead of him to the girl, bent over her, touched her head with her delicate fingers.

  Then she straightened and looked at him. “Ride for Alkinoor, Kyrik. And when you get there, see to it that you guard yourself well. There is danger for you in Alkinoor, for you and —that one."

  She glanced at Adorla. Then she took a few steps forward, threw her arms about him, and pressed her open mouth to his. A moment only was Kyrik allowed to savor the taste of her mouth, the touch of her breasts and thighs.

  Then she was gone. m The crystal ball that lay on the floor glowed a moment, and Kyrik fancied that he could see Illis inside it. He scowled, told himself that worshipers of goddesses had a rough time of it, and lay down.

  He slept soundly and woke to the touch of a sunbeam sliding through the openings of the roof. Adorla Mathandis lay beside him, lifted up slightly on an elbow, and was peering down at him.

  “It's time to be going," he muttered. “Not yet," she whispered.

  She was naked under those thin silks, and there was a perfume about her that reached deep into Kyrik, touching the chords of his manhood. He was tempted to put an arm about the girl, push her over onto her back, and enjoy her.

  But they were still inside the maze. They must find their way out. He eyed her a moment, then murmured, "We've got to get out of here."

  Adorla Mathandis drew away with a little sigh. He rose to his feet, reached to catch her hand and bring her up onto her feet. She pressed against him, letting him know the feel of her body.

  I feel like a hoyden, she thought. And I'm not ashamed of it. I am a queen no longer, but a woman.

  She smiled up at him, and he grunted. "You're hungry," he told her. "So am I. The sooner we find our way out of this hole, the better.”

  He bent to lift the crystal ball. For a moment he studied it, and was about to put it back inside his belt-pouch when a voice spoke in his mind. Carry me, Kyrik. I will show the way. They began their walk, with Kyrik holding the crystal ball out before him. It glowed brightly at times, or darkened, and when it darkened, he knew he had taken a wrong turn.

  Eventually they came to the large chamber where the horses still stood. At sight of them, Adorla ran forward, crying out.

  “These are horses of Alkinoor. I recognize their trappings. They must be the mounts of the men you killed."

  “While Lyrrin Odanyor and Ulmaran Dho escaped.”

  "You can't blame yourself for that. You were too busy with those other men to stop them."

  Kyrik shrugged, gathered the reins of the horses, and led them up the ramp to the sunlight. On their backs he found food, and after passing some to Adorla, he promptly sat down and began to eat. There were skins filled with water, also, and a few with wine.

  When they were finished, Kyrik said, “We'll ride to Alkinoor."

  Adorla Mathandis looked dubious. “We won't meet acceptance there. They think that Myrnis is their queen."

  He grinned at her, lopsidedly. “We'll soon disabuse them of that notion."

  She eyed him. “But how?"

  "I'll think of a way." He knew well enough what they faced. Alone they had no hope. Yet they had no allies in Alkinoor. Even if Adorla Mathandis were to proclaim who she was from all the market squares, it would do no good. Myrnis was queen in Alkinoor, and Kyrik had the uneasy feeling she would stay queen. He slid a boot into a stirrup and mounted up. Adorla also rose into the kak, and looked at him questioningly. Kyrik had gathered the reins of the other horses and now he led them behind him as he trotted off across the barren lands.

  They rode all that day, without stopping. They came in sight of farm-fields by sundown, and Kyrik saw roads here and there, crisscrossing the fields. He reined up and let the horses blow, while he ran his eyes across the fields and the distant forests which covered the far hills.

  He threw up an arm. “Can we travel to Alkinoor by a forest road? I don’t want anyone to see us, to carry the word that we're approaching."

  "My father had a hunting cabin in those woods."

  He turned in the saddle to look at her. "Will there be men there?”

  She shook her head. “No. I haven't used that place in a long time. It's empty, as far as I know."

  He reined his big horse around and trotted off across the high ridge with Adorla and the other horses following. From time to time he put his gaze on the distant sun, dropping steadily below the horizon. They would come up on that hunting lodge, if they did, long after the sun had set.

  The twin moons were in the sky by the time they came to a narrow road that wound between the tall trees through a dim and lonely world. Now they could hear the night-time sounds, the hooting of an owl, the eerie cry of a hunting wolf.

  Always they rode on, with Kyrik in the lead. It was close to midnight when he saw the cabin. It was built on a hill and surrounded by trees, and before it was a forest clearing. Behind it was a small lake, moonlight glinting on its waters.

  They rode to the cabin, and as they came nearer, Kyrik saw that it was larger than he had suspected. He rode around it twice, examining it, searching for any signs that it might be occupied.

  Then he swung down and unsaddled his horse. He went from horse to horse, relieving them of saddles and bridles, then drove them into a fenced enclosure. There was grass inside this, o
n which the horses began to feed. He found buckets in a small barn, walked down to the lake to fill them, and filled the water troughs so the animals could drink.

  Adorla walked with him, watching all he did.

  She said, "You spend more time on them than you do on our own comfort."

  "We can fend for ourselves. They can't." But once he was inside the cabin, he made a fire in the big hearth, and having brought in the gear of the men he had killed, he spread out what food remained.

  "Tomorrow I'll hunt for more," he told Adorla Mathandis between bites.

  She glanced at him. “Tomorrow? Don't you expect to ride on to Alkinoor tomorrow?"

  Kyrik rose to his feet, stretched. There was an animal quality about him, a subdued wildness that showed itself in his restlessness, in the way he walked and moved. She wondered vaguely if he might be a throwback to an earlier age.

  "Not tomorrow," he said at last, shaking himself. "I want a day or two to rest, to relax. His eyes went over her body. "You need rest more than I do. It won't harm you."

  She wondered if he were staying here because of her. It was true enough that she was tired, near to exhaustion. She had never been as active as she had been for the past couple of weeks. Now that activity was telling on her.

  "You can sleep in a bed now," he grinned. "If there are any coverings."

  There were coverings in big chests pushed against the wall of the bedrooms, she discovered when she went with him to look for them. She brought them out, made a bed for herself and then for him. Kyrik would sleep in the king's room, she told herself, in that huge fourposter where her father had been wont to sleep when he left the affairs of state for little holidays.

  Kyrik left her at the door of her room, saying nothing. He was the hardest man to deal with she had ever known. If only he would look at her as a woman. As she slid out of her silks and stood naked before a mirror, she told herself that she must be very much like Myrnis, whom he claimed to love.

  If he loved Myrnis, why did he treat her so coldly?

  She fell asleep wondering if there was something wrong with her, sleepily deciding that tomorrow she was going to find out why, he didn't think her worth the taking.