"I should blow your stupid lazy brains out," the hairy man responded. He looked out at the trail. "By the condition of the fire and the first slight lightening of the horizon I'd say it was only an hour to dawn. Did you ever relieve Potokir?"
The guard frowned. "He-he never come and got me. Never yelled or nothin'. Hell, Halot, he must'a gone fast asleep, too." They both turned in the direction of the guard and then suddenly spotted the near volcanic smoke coming from the vicinity of the machine gun. "Holy shit! The ammo! Hey! Everybody! The ammo's on fire!"
There was some stirring in the cleft, and just about that time the nicest little set of flames Charley ever saw popped up right in the center of the covering on the wagon.
"Get some water!" Halot yelled. "We got to get that thing out before it goes!"
Charley wondered if the thing would ever "go." It might not be very worthwhile to wait and find out; if the mere threat of it could bring out the others, and if Serkosh were still alive and capable of shooting up there, then between them they might well be able to take them out. There had been six, Serkosh had said; now there were five, and if one of them was Moustache he wasn't in any great shape himself.
Another man came from the cleft; a big, dark, ugly sucker pulling up a pair of pants. He had a shaved head and looked more like a professional wrestler than a gangster, but he sure looked mean. "Where are Potokir and Tatoche?" he thundered. "Halot! Fetch Potokir! I don't like the looks of this!"
That was too much. Praying that she was as good a shot with these things as she was with her dad's pistols back home and also praying that Serkosh took the hint, she took steady aim with the first pistol and fired. Halot cried out and pitched forward, a small wound in his back. Immediately she saw her mistake; she should have shot Baldy first, since he was closest to shelter, then sleepy, and finally Halot. She aimed at the bald man who was starting to duck down and look around suspiciously and fired again, but this time she missed as the man dropped and rolled back toward die arch.
There was a sudden extra sharp report from overhead and to her right, and the bald man suddenly cried out and fell back. He wasn't dead, but he was hit pretty bad.
Charley reloaded, leaving any targets of opportunity to the man above them, and she heard another shot-and then several. Sleepy seemed to have figured out where the sniper had to be and gotten his guns; using the nargas for cover, he was shooting up into the darkness at Serkosh-but he was shooting blind.
Charley had to wait. The distance was too great for accuracy with these pistols-hitting a big man walking away was one thing, but this was an armed man behind cover and wary, and almost at the limits of her vision's resolution. It was a standoff, though; neither Sleepy nor Serkosh could move and neither could hit the other from where they were at. It was a Mexican standoff, and since those in the camp didn't and couldn't know just how badly hurt Serkosh was or even who or what he was, they were very much at a disadvantage. That had to occur to Sleepy and the pair still in the cleft; they would have to make a move or stand an indefinite siege, and daylight would give a potential sniper a clear view of everyone and everything.
Sleepy might have been sloppy and a sound snorer, but he was definitely a survivor in a hard life, once it was him or them. He startled both Serkosh and Charley by suddenly breaking free and into the open, using the shadows of the near dead fire and firing two shots wild up at his unseen assailant to cover his movements. Serkosh fired three times at him and missed, closely, all three times. It wasn't easy when you were dying and you also had to pick up a new gun each time.
Sleepy made it to the darkest shadows near where the captives lay. He took time first to reload his pistol and rifle, then looked around and spotted the cut bonds on Sam and Boday.
"You up there!" he cried out, his voice reverberating around the rock walls. "You throw down your guns and you come down-now! I'll count five, then I'm gonna start blowin' some beauties' brains out!"
He paused a moment, then shouted, "One! Two! Three! Four! Fi-"
That was as far as he got. Charley stepped out not ten feet from him and fired both pistols into his hulking black form. He screamed and fell back from the shock of being hit, and both his guns fired harmlessly in the air, the bullets ricocheting dangerously around the almost amphitheater-like camp. The effect gave her an idea and she cursed again her inability to really speak this tongue as she reloaded.
Serkosh, however, had the same idea, but when he spoke he sounded like someone already dead and rotting, a living corpse somehow alive and dangerous. "You in there! Come out with your hands up!" he yelled, his hollow, ghostly voice, amplified by the reverberations, sounding even more ghastly. "I wonder if you thought about how it would be if I pumped bullets into that arch cave of yours? Got lots of bullets. They'll make a nice ping! ping! ping! ping! sound, I bet. Might even hit somebody. Let's see."
He fired three shots at two-second intervals, about the best speed he could make with three guns. He was right about the sounds; being in there must be scary as hell. Charley liked that; these people should suffer a bit. She wondered why he should have all the fun. It was still just a dark hole in spite of the rapidly lightening sky, but she only had to fire into that dark hole. Two shots, then a reload even as the bullets continued to ping around inside. She was about to do it again when, at last, the ammunition wagon went up.
There was a tremendous explosion and a plume of fire, and then all sorts of small explosions and now the effect was not just on those in the cave, but on Charley and the captives as well. Horses and nargas reared and panicked, trying to pull away from their tethers and in some cases succeeding; in others falling to the sudden hail of random bullets.
Suddenly a tall, looming shape took form out of the sudden illumination of the cave, and the fire and small explosions and everything suddenly seemed to freeze and then be drawn- sucked was more appropriate-toward .the dark form who seemed to absorb the energy and take on an unnatural blue glow.
A shrouded arm went out and up, and a stream of fire and bullets sped like a solid thing to the top of the cliff overlooking the camp, right at Serkosh, landing there with a flare and the sound of a hundred bullet reports. Charley heard a last, pitiable scream from on high and knew suddenly that she was alone once again.
She was also stunned by the incredible power that action had demonstrated. Damn it, if their boss was some kind of wizard why the hell hadn't she or he or it saved her men? Maybe, just maybe, the creature had only so much magic to use and saved it for self-preservation.
And now it came forward, a female figure in a dark, shimmering blue robe and hood. This, then, was the machine gunner and the mistress of all that had happened. What was it Serkosh had said? There was something odd about her, not quite human, as if she were hiding far more than a female form under that blue wrapping? Charley could see what he meant. The creature was large, menacing, and moved very oddly.
"Well done, well done indeed, my dear," said a sharp, crisp female voice from inside the hood. "You must realize that your bullets have no effect on me, and I know you must be over there. That trail is a dead end, as you must know. Come-I will make it easy on you. You saw how much I absorbed from the explosion. There were thousands of rounds in those cases and I used barely half to finish off your friend. Shall I, then, use the rest of them on your friends over there? Shall you watch them be ripped apart, into bloody messes, before I still come for you?"
Charley figured on this, but it didn't make much difference. What would be the fate of Sam and the others if she did surrender?
When there was no immediate surrender this also occurred to the blue-robed woman. She thought for a moment, trying to decide whether or not to go through with her threat or not. Charley hoped, even suspected, she would not; if she killed them all there would be nothing left to bargain with, and she couldn't be that selective. Those bullets went in a stream. There were clearly strong limits to this one's magic, but it sure as hell was better than no magic at all.
The blue
-robed woman sighed, then reached a hand into a hidden pocket in her robe and pulled out something. "Jewel," she said-in perfect English, although in a very English accent, "who is this one I am facing and how do I deal with whoever it may be?"
Charley realized with a start that the villainness had the Jewel of Omak! But what would that damned demon tell her?
The woman in blue laughed. "So!" she said loudly in Akhbreed, "your name is Charley. How quaint. And I need but say a simple phrase in your native English to banish all but the courtesan in you. Did you even know that?" She paused, then said, in English, "Charley be gone!"
It was sudden and absolute. Charley no longer existed in a practical sense; only a very scared and very confused Shari.
"Come here, girl!" the woman in blue ordered, and she obeyed, totally bewildered and terrified. "Ah!" The woman in blue saw her now as she approached and knelt before her. "So! You are the one! I saw your face in the clouds you summoned that cleverly dispatched my men-at the cost of dispatching your train. What fun to have you in this state! How . . . tempting to keep you that way."
She put out a long, slender finger and pointed at the kneeling courtesan.
"Take off that ridiculous gunbelt with the guns in it and throw it as far away as you can, dear," said the woman in blue. Shari, who hadn't even realized she had such a thing on, immediately obeyed. The throw was pretty far for someone like her.
"This is such delightful fun," said the witch, adding, in English, "Charley return!"
Charley immediately came back to consciousness, now well aware of her complete vulnerability. Damn Sam! These little power trips were gonna kill them all!
"Ah, now the return. Fascinating! You may speak, my dear. I'm afraid that all of this complicates my plans a great deal, and your unexpected appearance after so long raises possibilities long discarded. I must think of this."
The blue cloak and hood effectively covered the strange witch from any real view, but Charley got a glimpse of a dark, beautiful face inside that cowl, and long, slender fingers with dark, long nails emerged from the sleeves.
"Who are you?" she asked the witch. "How do you know English? And how could you permit-this?"
The blue witch laughed. "I am Asterial," she responded, "and I am of no place but this wasted land. Once I was of the Akhbreed, like yourself, and a building sorceress, but then I was kissed by a change wind, forced to flee here, forced to seek my revenge on those who cast me out. Most had given you up for dead, you know, even myself. Only Klittichom remained convinced that you lived and were not in Boolean's hands or his control. Now you are in mine, although I never expected it. A fascinating new set of possibilities unfolds."
Suddenly Charley realized why she was still alive. Ironically, Boolean's little trick had worked. The woman in blue thought that she, Charley, and not Sam, was the woman the Horned One sought. Not that it was doing much good, considering Sam's state at that moment. The demon inside the jewel apparently had gone along with Asterial so far because it did not threaten Sam, only Charley. The most practical thing probably seemed to the demon to let the witch kill Charley and believe the deed done, then handle Sam's own rescue in a less obvious way. It was an unsettling thought, but whatever worth it had to the demon was now negated. Clearly this powerful and ambitious sorceress was not going to kill her; at least not for some time.
"At least you could tell me what all this is about," Charley prompted, feeling a bit more secure and hoping that conversation would keep those damned words away and keep her mind whole. "I've been snatched from my own world after many attempts to kill me, tracked all over, and I really don't know what this is about."
"Ambition, my dear, and power, as usual," replied Asterial. "A great wizard has turned against his own kind and works to bring an end to Akhbreed rule. Quite naturally he couches this in liberation terms, but bis true aim is to rule-first here, then everywhere. We all know it and even his allies suspect it, deep down, but they go along dealing with the devil in the knowledge that he is the only hope, perhaps for thousands of years, to overthrow this wicked system. They join him with prayers that perhaps they can find some way to stop him as well. You, my dear, represent a dagger at his throat. You see, whosoever defeats the Akhbreed will need the changewind as his weapon. Even Klittichorn cannot control the changewind, but the Storm Princess can influence, call, direct, nudge any storm."
"You mean-I'm the Storm Princess?" Asterial laughed. "Of course not, my dear! How could you be? You are of the Outplane, not a native of Akahlar. No, my dear, you are her double, her parallel. Genetically identical in spite of different worlds, different ancestry, everything. The Outplanes contain all things that might have ever been, and certainly they include a few parallels of most everyone. But the forces of Probability have no way of telling one from the other except location. Here, on Akahlar, you have access to the same powers as she. You are identical, unless touched by the changewind or otherwise altered in your basic makeup. Here, her powers and your powers are indistinguishable. Here, you may, with the proper training, cancel the other out, and with it Klittichorn's ambition."
So that was it! She remembered when they fell through the great tunnel or whatever it was; the scene of the cabin region where the deer had changed, bit by bit, into something totally different. All those worlds. . . . And by sheer probability, on a few of them would be ones like Sam, perfect doubles, which an enemy of Klittichorn could turn. One by one the sorcerer had been seeking them out and killing them off. Sam's girl in the red car . . . Not Sam, but Sam all the same. Boolean hadn't been kidding them. Right now, Sam was probably the most important person on Akahlar.
Charley looked over at the captives, relieved to see no sign of wounds. They hadn't moved during the whole thing. "What have you done to them?"
"A bit of a test. I recognized this gem around the fat one's neck as an amulet of power. I simply put them under with it. The restraints were earlier, and remained on because I did not and do not know the limits of this amulet's spell. I am told that the painted one is an alchemist. When we get back to my lair I shall have her create potions that will create the perfect slaves. You have cost me most of my organization; it is therefore fitting that you all should become my obedient slaves and rebuild. But no potions for you, my dear. A few words are all it takes for you to become my willing and obedient slave-with your full self about as insurance against Klittichorn. After he wins it all, you will be there to give him a taste of the change wind. With the greater sorcerers gone and you at my side I shall exterminate the Akhbreed and myself rule."
"Good plan," Charley muttered dryly. She now knew the basics of it all and she didn't like the position they were in. It sure was gonna be a hell of a shock to this witch, though, when she trotted out Charley to do old Horny in and discovered she had somebody whose magic powers were less than nothing. Boolean must have much the same plan, but after revealing himself to Klittichorn it was impossible for him to act-if, in fact, he knew just where they were all this time. "And when's this war supposed to break out?"
"Ah! It will be a complex affair. Great armies as well as great magic will be required, and as for the magic it will not get two chances. Klittichorn may be destroyed but not aged, although the withering old fart is bad enough now. He has time to build and train and practice-and teach his little Storm Princess. In the meantime, he pays well for the Mandan gold cloaks we steal from the trains and whose manufacture is limited and very tightly controlled. One cannot use the changewind unless one's army is protected from it. Oh, we shall have a long, long time together before this all comes about, my sweet. Why, it might be many years before you are needed."
Charley thought fast. She'd come this far on bluff and bravado and sheer luck; this time it might well run out, but it was worth the chance.
She looked around. "Your gang's pretty well wiped out," she noted, "and the horses and nargas that didn't spook are dead or soon will be. You ain't gonna be able to move this shit, and you don't know who else survived wit
h a gun and is sittin' around someplace waitin' for sitting ducks. Me, I don't wanna be Shari for the next ten years, but I got no axe to grind. I don't like what you and your boys did, but they paid for it. Now I got to think of me. Boolean or you is all the same to me since you got reason to keep me alive and kicking, but I don't owe old Green Robes anything. He sure dumped me in a vat of shit and left me there to sink or swim. I'm stark naked, marked for life, and I got nowhere to go. You, and this place, is as good as any. Seems to me, though, that I'm no match for my twin sister or whatever she is. Sure, I called the storm, and I sent one or two away, but strictly out of emotion or fear. Your horned boy is teachin' her the fine points and he's got years to do it in. You keep me around as some servile little ass-licker and when it comes time for the showdown they're gonna wipe the floor up with me."
Asterial paused. "Go on. Just what are you proposing?"
"Not exactly what you got in mind. More the same kind of relationship your big boy has with my twin sister. We get a sort of partnership. You teach me the magic and I'll handle the guns and work with you. You got nothin' to lose, after all. Like, all you do is say the words and I'm gone even if I got ten storms comin' in on you and five guns aimed at your head."
The proposition was really tempting to the sorceress, but she simply could not be sure. "I would like to trust you. Anyone who can pull this off is someone quite exceptional. You have done to me what armies could not. But seeing all this, even knowing those words, how could I ever be certain? You have not truly seen me. You are repulsed by what I permitted here tonight, even though it was merely payment to those men who were all I really had left. I believe you are from too moral a background to be trusted."
"I'll show you how valuable and trusted I can be-and how trusting," Charley responded, feeling her stomach tighten and hoping her nerves didn't show. "Use that jewel and bring one of the captives over here. The fat one-I already cut her bonds so she's the logical choice. I'll show you how to make a devoted, obedient slave without potions or new spells."
When The Changewinds Blow Page 33