The Reaver Road

by Dave Duncan

  I took Shalial's hand. "I think we should leave, dear," I said. I eyed the distance to the door. Fotius was eyeing me, and he seemed to be laughing.

  He began to advance.

  "Run!" I shouted, gave Shalial a shove, and lunged for the nearest torch.

  An explosion of wind howled into the chamber and blew out all the flames. For an instant there was no lightning, only the bellow of the rain and the shriek of the wind. The archway should have been visible as a faint glow, but my eyes were not adjusted to the dark. I felt totally blind.

  I took off along the wall, running my hand on it so I would not fall in the hole as Thorian had done, and eventually I must come round to the door. I expected to cannon into Fotius at any moment.

  A couple of faint blue lights began to flicker as two torches recovered from the blast of wind.

  Then Shalial screamed.

  Flash! Fotius had caught her by the trailing ends of her draperies. I expected them to rip, but they didn't. Flash! He had transferred his grip to her arm; she was struggling helplessly.

  Flash!

  "Come here, Slave!" he shouted to me. "Or I cut off her breasts."

  "Release that woman right away!" a new voice thundered. "Or p-p-pay the p-p-price!" it added.

  Flash! Flash! Flash!

  A man stood in the archway, holding a sword.

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  27: Five Up

  Yes, it was Jaxian Tharpit. Of course it was Jaxian Tharpit! Who else could it have been?

  At this point in the evening, things began to move quickly, and a certain amount of confusion crept into the situation. For one thing, the two revived torches were sputtering and uncertain, sometimes close to dying again in the wind, sometimes flaring up. Maiana jumped in and out of existence at the rear of the chamber as lightning flashed in a similar jagged pattern. At times we were in pitch darkness and at other times in brilliance. The noise of thunder was so continuous and so painful that it made rational thought almost impossible. The whole temple seemed to shake with the rocket.

  All of which is by way of excuse for the poor quality of my observation and narration. I have very spotty memories of the events subsequent to Jaxian's entrance.

  I recall running toward Shalial, and seeing her in a series of still images, contorted now this way and now that as she fought to free herself from Fotius. Her movements between these strange postures were veiled in darkness and did not register. She was a heroine in an illustrated book, and someone was flicking the pages.

  Similarly, I know that Jaxian ran in from the entrance, brandishing his sword. Again, I recall a series of inky drawings, his long shadow dark before him; he seemed to jump closer in each successive picture, with no movement between.

  I think I grabbed Shalial's arm in passing just as Fotius released her, as if we were a relay team and she the baton. I do know that she was with me, that I had my arm around her, and that we were circling around to head back to the archway when a clatter of bronze announced the start of the sword fight.

  I know she screamed "Jaxian!" right in my ear.

  "He's coming!" I insisted, as I dragged her out of the House of the Goddess. She did not want to leave him, although what she could have done to help him I cannot guess.

  I glanced back from the door and saw two embattled warriors frozen in lightning: Balor's brazen helmet blazing on a dark Fotius, and Jaxian, whose skin was soaking wet, gleaming silver like Maiana in the background. A disembodied head fighting a decapitated body.

  Then Shalial and I plunged out into the storm and were almost blown away at once. What had been a wild night inside was mind-wrecking outside. The impact of the rain was a torment, a flogging with whips of ice. It was more blinding than the darkness. If you have ever tried to run across the top of a pyramid with your eyes shut in a tropical cloudburst dragging a screaming woman in a heavy surf, you will understand. If not, you can't possibly.

  Shalial wanted to go back and rescue her brother. I wanted to find the ladder.

  "We are all warriors in Zanadon now," Jaxian had said, meaning that all able-bodied men had been conscripted into the militia for the emergency. But I had watched Fotius outfight Thorian, and I knew that a lunch-hour swordsman like Jaxian had no hope against him whatsoever. Jaxian was as good as dead in my mind, and Balor needed a beard.

  Sorry … have I got ahead of you?

  I'll run through it, then, although at the time I had not worked it out in strict logic. Thorian had blocked the secret entrance, so the priests could not come up to the House of the Goddess at dawn to effect their production of a fake Balor. They must know that Fotius was up there, though, and the public ceremony would have to take place in the morning. They would assume that Fotius had been responsible for loading the trapdoor. They might equally assume that he had some nefarious motive for doing so, involving Shalial and a desire to remain undisturbed. They would just have to hope that she would survive the encounter and that Fotius was capable of donning the divine armor and making his appearance without further assistance from them.

  But Balor is invariably depicted with a lush square beard halfway down his chest, and Fotius had lost his beard in a fire. Thorian was dead or crippled. Jaxian was about to be chopped into kebabs by Fotius. My beard did not qualify, and Shalial did not have one. So the whole deception was going to fall apart.

  Obviously Jaxian, overcome with shame at his cowardice, had decided to lend assistance in rescuing his sister. I had told him an improbable tale of scaling the outside of the pyramid with a ladder. Such a feat might just have been possible with two men on a quiet night, but was manifestly impossible for a lone man in a storm such as this—except that somehow he must have achieved it, because he had arrived. So somewhere there was a ladder, and my firm intention was to find that ladder and escape with Shalial.

  Does that make sense? It did at the time.

  Or it did until I was outside in the storm. Half beaten to my knees by the rain, swung hither and thither by the wind, and blinded by lightning and darkness in rapid alternation, I completely lost my way in a few seconds. I made a right-hand turn, knowing that Jaxian would have brought his ladder from the west. Then I realized that he might have detoured round to the north, where he would be more likely to escape detection. Shalial squirmed out of my grip and disappeared. I decided to go back for her. On the other hand perhaps I should locate the ladder first?

  And by then I could not remember which hand was which or which way I wanted to go.

  Water was streaming over the paving, and I knew that there would be a slope to take it to the edge. I inched downstream. A fortunate flash showed me that I had one more step to disaster and I stopped. I realized then that the ladder might not be quite long enough to protrude above the top of the wall, and in that case I would needs all might to find it. I turned around, located the House of the Goddess in the next flash, and started back.

  If that sounds confused, it does not do justice to the situation. I was not nearly so well organized as I have indicated.

  And suddenly everyone was outside in the cloudburst. I saw Jaxian, backing furiously, but still alive and apparently unwounded, still holding off Fotius's murderous assault. They were heading for the edge, though, and in a moment Jaxian's speedy retreat would carry him off as suddenly as Thorian's had. Shalial was heading for them. Knowing where my duty lay. I rushed over to assist. The four of us came together on the brink of the cliff as a sudden incandescent brightness …

  Rain beat on my face and chest to rouse me. My head was full of a high-pitched singing, and I tingled strangely all over. I was also half drowned and quite blind.

  I raised myself on my elbows and wondered where I was. Then I remembered and wished I hadn't. I turned my head to the left and waited, spluttering and spitting. With the storm fading, the next flash seemed to hold back deliberately. When it finally came, it revealed only water, sheeting across granite. I turned my head the other way in the darkness and waited again.

&n
bsp; Realizing that my feet were resting on air, I pulled them back. I have seen people struck by lightning. The effects are so unpredictable that in many lands Zomapp is worshipped as a goddess. Once I saw a bolt strike half an armored phalanx on the battlements of Otranthan. Four of the men died instantly, about as many were badly burned, and the rest merely knocked down or stunned.

  Thus I was not too astonished when the next flash showed me a man lying facedown at my side, but no one else in view. Dark returned but after some thought, I recalled that I had seen a swath and no helmet, so this was Jaxian. I could not tell if he was dead, nor whether Fotius or Zomapp was responsible if he was. I shook his shoulder without result. He was cold as death, of course. So was I.

  As I heaved myself up to my knees, another stroke of lightning flashed on bronze near his outstretched hand. I crawled over in the dark until my fingers found the hilt of his sword.

  Obviously the gods now expected me to rescue the lovely Shalial by myself, where two larger, stronger men than I had failed. Dimly, over the singing in my head, a small voice whispered that I had better get started, or I might arrive too late.

  Even if I could best Fotius, what then? I did not want to think about "what then."

  Reeling and tottering like a drunkard, I wound my way back to the archway and into the House of the Goddess. It seemed much larger than before, dimly lit by two dancing flames, far apart. I rubbed my eyes, drawing luxurious breaths of air that were not mostly water, and tried to ignore my resident internal choir as I strove to analyze the problem. Shalial was wrestling with Fotius at the side of the badly misshapen bed of tamarisk. He had discarded his helmet and ripped off her garment, which lay some distance away, fluttering plaintively. I concluded muzzily that he was still just toying with her, and I had arrived in time to prevent serious hurt.

  I should like to record that I now bellowed "Unhand that woman, varlet!" ferociously. I did try, but all that came out was a high-pitched squeak. Perhaps it was louder than my song-filled ears could detect, though, for Fotius heard. He looked up and saw me … I should like to say stalking forward purposefully , but the truth was closer to tottering unsteadily in his direction .

  He tossed Shalial carelessly down on the conch, proving that he could have done so earlier without trouble. He snatched up Balor's sword from the floor and came at me, fast.

  I have used a sword often enough. I am not without skill in the noble art of swordsmanship, but after seeing Fotius in action against Thorian, I had no illusions about being in his class.

  Nevertheless, duty is duty. I shuffled my unwilling feet into approximately the regulation position and raised my …

  Well, actually, I raised my hilt. The blade of Jaxian's sword, I now saw, had gone. A tiny stub remained, and the end of it showed evidence of melting. I stared stupidly at this curious phenomenon while I tried to remember my objective in challenging the heavy of the tale when armed only with a hilt.

  Fotius came to a stop in front of me. He put his knuckles on his hips and regarded me favorably. There was a foul odor of burned hair and flesh about him, and I did not want to look at his face too closely. I would rather have just gone away, but that did not seem like a very probable outcome now.

  He said something insulting, which was fortunately drowned out by the singing in my head. I still tingled all over, too. I dropped the sword hilt and took a step backward. Then another.

  I was encouraged in this action by the point of a sword at the end of my nose. Fotius was leering down at me—at least, I think he was. What remained of his face would have been unpleasant in any expression. He was making noises that I concluded must be laughter. My back came hard against the wall of the chamber, and I could retreat no more.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I observed Shalial hurrying to my rescue. She held Balor's helmet aloft with the probable intention of bringing it in abrupt juxtaposition with the back of Fotius's head. I wondered which would be the more damaged by the impact. I wondered if she would arrive soon enough to save me. I seriously doubted that she could hit hard enough to do any good. She might just make him mad.

  Someone bellowed, and this time it was a real bellow. It raised echoes like the thunder. I decided it had said "Stop that!" I observed that Shalial had stopped, and that both she and Fotius were staring toward the arch. I considered the matter, and then turned my head to see what was interesting them.

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  28: The Tale of Lionman

  Jaxian Tharpit came striding across the floor toward us. He seemed totally unharmed by his brush with the storm, except that he was soaking wet, of course, trailing dribbles from his swath. His hair and beard were plastered flat by water, and he wore a very threatening frown.

  Fotius screamed in fury and forgot about me. He charged the newcomer like a bull—or a unicorn, perhaps, for he was intent on skewering Jaxian through the solar plexus.

  As I said, my observation was not at its best that night. I cannot swear to exactly what happened. I think, though, that Jaxian sidestepped the sword and struck his assailant's wrist with his fist. Something like that must have happened, because I am sure that the sword skittered off across the floor, that Fotius staggered wildly sideways before he regained his balance, and that Jaxian stood his ground, merely turning to watch his opponent.

  Fotius howled so loudly that even I could hear him. Then he charged again, his hands going for Jaxian's throat. That was a foolish move, or a brave one, because the two were about evenly matched in size. I don't think Jaxian moved at all, except perhaps to put one foot back for leverage, but this I am certain of—he did not even rock when the corporal slammed into him. He absorbed the impact like a granite pillar. Then he picked Fotius up and threw him.

  I don't mean a wrestler's throw. I mean a javelin throw.

  Fotius moved in a blur and struck the wall headfirst. The wall was at least six paces away, and he was still at shoulder height when he hit it. He crumpled to the ground like mud and lay there in one of those excruciatingly tangled positions that exceptional juvenile female contortionists may sometimes achieve, but never a living man.

  Jaxian turned to Shalial and held out his arms. She rushed to him and they embraced. Wishing that the goddess provided chairs for her guests, I tottered over to the trapdoor, which still stood open, and leaned against the side of the flap. I wondered if I would wake up soon and what I would make of all this when I did.

  Jaxian was still kissing his sister.

  Well, it was none of my business.

  I don't usually care whether it is or not.

  I wished my head would stop singing and my eyes stop changing the colors of things.

  The night was half gone, we were still trapped in the House of the Goddess, and we had no Balor. The rain was slackening, and the thunder seemed to have stopped completely … which was odd, because storms usually wander away into the distance, muttering. Perhaps Zomapp had delivered his message.

  Shalial was still tongue-to-tongue with her brother.

  I could relight the torches, of course, but the two that still burned were shedding a steadier light now, and it seemed adequate. I decided to go down and see what had happened to Thorian.

  I ducked under the flap and found him already halfway up the stairs. He had blood in his hair and beard, and he was leaning against the wall as if he lacked strength to go farther. A sword dangled from his free hand, but I could not have been surprised at anything that turned up in that temple attic.

  "How are you?" I inquired, expecting him to say "Terrible."

  "Terrible," he muttered. "But I can still kill that swine."

  "Jaxian beat you to it."

  He peered at me incredulously and blinked. His eyes seemed to be moving independently. He was obviously very groggy, and in pain. He had taken a bad fall. "Jaxian? Tharpit? He did?"

  "I'll help you up. Lean on me."

  "I'll squash you."

  I insisted. I wrapped his sword arm over my neck and more or less dr
agged him up the stairs—I can be stronger than I look when I want to be. We emerged from the flap.

  Jaxian and Shalial had separated just far enough to look each other in the eye. They were holding hands. She was staring up at him in wonder, he was smiling down at her fondly.

  I wandered across to them, with Thorian trailing somewhere behind. Jaxian turned to me and smiled. A witty remark died in my throat. There was a dark awareness in his eyes that I had not seen there before, and certainly had not expected. There was supreme satisfaction and a confident amusement that implied he knew a great deal more than I did about something. Or everything.

  Vlad the Opprobrious had looked like that sometimes, usually when just about to flay someone.

  "Well, One-Who-Calls-Himself-Omar?" he said—and even his voice had a resonant quality I did not recall. It jarred the ears like loud bells. "You have observed enough wonders tonight to keep you talking for years, have you not?"

  I nodded uncertainly, and then mumbled, "Yes … milord."

  Something about my answer seemed to increase his amusement. He raised a bushy eyebrow but did not comment. Then he glanced at Thorian and his expression darkened. Neither spoke.

  I also looked at Thorian, and the perplexity on his face was wondrous to behold. I wish I could describe it, but words fail me. Like me, he could not place this unfamiliar Jaxian. Where was the milksop poltroon who had refused to help rescue his sister? Even the haughty noble we had glimpsed a couple of times would not compare to this. The new Jaxian looked capable of storming the temple single-handed and slaughtering every priest who stood in his way. Just the arrogance with which he held his ox-yoke shoulders made him seem larger than before. Wonderful what a little success will do for a man, I thought vaguely.

  Shalial also seemed surprised, but proud, too. She caught my eye and smiled happily. Then we both realized that she had no clothes on. She blushed and I turned away in haste.