[Death Dealer 02] - Lords of Destruction

by James Silke - (ebook by Undead)

  As they descended, the rumblings within the surrounding rock walls grew loud and threatening, and the stairs shuddered under them, shaking loose clouds of rock and dust. Reaching the bottom of the vertical shaft, Gath plunged through the short side passage into a main cross tunnel. It was still lit by torches, and there were sounds of running feet from the interior opening.

  “To the right,” the bukko shouted.

  Gath did not need to be told. He was already headed that way, following the helmet’s instincts.

  He burst out of the tunnel onto the ledge siding the tide pool, and saw Tiyy perched on the edge. She was naked now except for the sheathed dagger on her forearm, and glistened with slime and blood. She dove like a flying arrow out over the swirling pool, arched at the center and plunged down into the frothing ocean water.

  Gath dove in after her, touched bottom and saw her slicing through the greenish waters into the dark sinister hole in the white floor. He swam for the hole, and black light shot up out of it. It spread quickly, filling the pool with an inky darkness, and his hands groped blindly before taking hold of the edge of the hole. He could see nothing. The black light had subdued the helmet’s powers: its glow had gone out, and it could no longer sense anything. His mind and body heaved with frustration, but it was Gath of Baal’s frustration, not the helmet’s. He bunched his legs under him and thrust himself toward the surface.

  Erupting from the center of the tide pool, he gasped for air and saw Jakar standing knee-deep in sea water at the tunnel leading to the ocean. He was waving and shouting for Gath to come that way, but the sounds of the swirling water and roar of the surf echoing through the tunnel covered his words. Gath swam for the tunnel, and Jakar vanished into it.

  Reaching the tunnel, Gath climbed into it, and a wave tried to drive him back. He stood with his legs set apart and body low, and the weight of the wave battered thighs and chest. Then its force was spent, and the incoming water lowered, allowing him to wade through it.

  He found the others waiting on a wooden dock twenty feet down the tunnel, where it widened into a huge cavern that reached through the base of the mountain for a hundred feet then opened onto the Inland Sea. There a dark fog lay just above the white-capped blue-black water. The sounds of frightened gulls were shrill, and the crashing waves were loud as they spilled into the cave. Rocks broke away from the rim of the mouth and crashed into the churning sea. The cave itself shook and rumbled, and dust swirled from the roof, clouding the air.

  Through the haze, Gath could see that the dock ran the length of the cave to its mouth, where it joined a pier which reached out another three hundred feet into the dark sea waters. A blood-red barge bobbed up and down just inside the mouth. A dozen bat soldiers were loading it hurriedly, while others were untying it from the dock. Twenty feet this side of the barge, more bat soldiers lay half buried under a rubble of rock. It had spilled out of the mouth of a tunnel opening off of the dock, and dust and more rubble were now joining it.

  Gath turned to the bukko and hesitated. The old man still held Cobra. She was barely breathing now. Her face was chalky against his blood-stained tunic. Gath looked into Brown John’s eyes. There was no humor or reckless plots behind them now, only pain and panic.

  “The nymph got away,” Gath said, because there was nothing else to say, and charged down the dock toward the barge. After two strides the helmet was roaring and spewing flames.

  When the bat soldiers saw him coming, there was no doubt in their minds that the flaming demon spawn, their sacred queen’s newest Lord of Destruction, wanted the barge exclusively for himself. So they jumped into the water and swam for the Inland Sea. Those who were not certain that the only thing he wanted was the barge did so very swiftly.

  When Brown John and the others boarded the barge, Gath manned both the port and starboard oars as Jakar took the rudder, and the craft pulled away slowly from the dock. The bukko huddled with Cobra on the raised command deck at the center of the ship, and Robin searched hurriedly through the baskets of provisions and stores of arms and armor loaded by the bat soldiers, hunting for a knife and firepot so she could remove the crossbow bolts from Cobra’s flesh and close her wounds.

  A flurry of small rocks and spilling dirt fell on the barge as it passed under the rim of the cave mouth, then the lumbering craft floated clear, and the massive, hunched rock supporting Pyram growled in complaint at their departure.

  Gath took no notice, his huge body bending and pulling on the oars. Cording. Glistening.

  The barge plowed into the incoming surf, riding over wave after wave, then broke free and headed out to sea under the concealing roof of fog.

  Forty-Four

  TWADDLE

  The blood-red barge was halfway across the Inland Sea when the fog began to burn off, and the huge grey rock supporting Pyram appeared behind the thinning mists. It was rumbling and shaking, and the vibrations churned up the surface of the sea, causing the awkward craft to dip and bob. Then the black castle shuddered at the heights of the rock, and its three central towers began to sway.

  On the command deck of the barge, Brown John held Cobra’s unconscious body close as he looked back at the impending spectacle. Robin had removed the crossbow bolts from the woman’s body and closed the wounds in hip and thigh with fire. But the wound in her chest could not be closed and continued to bleed.

  Robin, shamed and frightened by this failure, now squatted beside the bukko, her big eyes also on the shuddering castle. Her arms were stained with blood and ash up to her elbows.

  Gath stood motionless beside the banked oars on the aft deck, and Jakar stood beside him, holding the rudder steady, as they also watched.

  The castle’s black towers weaved, then suddenly collapsed inward, and clouds of dust erupted under them. The walls of the castle shook and also fell inward, sucked down by the towers, and vanished behind billowing banks of grey dust that rose toward the overhanging cloud.

  Pyram was dead.

  Brown John nodded with approval, but it was imperceptible. In less than a month, the Master of Darkness had been driven back into the underworld and silenced, and now the source of his demon spawn was destroyed, and the sacred jewels of White Veshta, which had provided the magical powers to create his demons, had been taken from the dark sorceress. But the bukko felt no joy.

  Despite his and Robin’s efforts, Cobra had not revived and he could feel her growing cold in his arms.

  He held her close, warming her with his own heat, until the barge ran ashore on the southern coast of the Inland Sea. There he carried her to the edge of a forest with trees taller than any he had ever seen before, and laid her in the shade at the foot of one. Its bark was soft and red, and its needles were thick on the ground.

  While Gath and Jakar unloaded the weapons, armor, clothing and provisions, the bukko and Robin made a bed of needles and laid Cobra on it, covering her with blankets. Robin raced into the forest, with Jakar following to guard her, and moments later returned with herb leaves clutched in her hands, and a full waterskin slung over Jakar’s shoulder. They sat beside Cobra, and Robin slowly fed her sips of water, then bits of herbs, first chewing them slightly to soften and moisten them.

  Brown John watched the girl do this for a long time, his brown eyes heavy, no longer wearing a trace of vitality or optimism. He felt Cobra stir, and a smile lifted his cheeks. Robin shared a hopeful glance with the bukko, fed Cobra some more herbs, and she stirred again, opening her eyes. They blinked with a vague expression, then hardened with fear.

  “It’s all right,” Brown John reassured her. “We’re safe. Pyram is destroyed… and Robin wears the jewels.”

  Cobra glanced at Robin, and the girl pushed back the collar of her wrap, her fingers lightly touching her neck. A glow rose from her nut-brown flesh, and sparkling diamonds briefly appeared around her slender throat, then faded back into her body.

  A smile flickered at the corners of Cobra’s mouth, and she whispered, “I… I had no idea. I only thou
ght you might be able to hold them.” Panic suddenly creased her face, and she turned to Brown John, her voice cold with fear. “Gath? Where’s Gath?”

  “He’s here,” Brown John said comfortingly. “He’s all right now. He’s himself again, and he controls the helmet.”

  She smiled buoyantly, gasping with relief, and tears formed in her eyes. “Show me,” she begged. “Hold me up.”

  Brown John lifted her slightly, and the tears fell from her eyes, streamed over her swelling cheeks.

  Gath stood twenty paces off amidst the loot taken from the barge. He had found and put on a ragged leather tunic, a belted sword and a pouch and dagger belt. The homed helmet was tied to his hip, and he was sorting among a collection of spears. Sensing their eyes on him, he looked up. Seeing Cobra awake, he straightened and a smile moved his burnt cheeks. He selected a spear, dropped the others and moved toward his comrades.

  Reaching them, he stopped, facing Cobra, and she asked, “You’re… you’re free? Truly free?”

  He nodded, and she sank back against Brown John whispering, her voice too weak to make her words intelligible, but her tone overflowing with euphoric joy.

  Gath asked her, “What would you like to eat? Venison? Rabbit? Turkey?”

  She smiled up at him, and her purr came back into her voice, stroking him. “I’ll eat whatever you kill, Dark One.”

  He nodded and started off, then stopped and looked back at her. His slate-grey eyes clouded as a confusion of emotions passed behind them. Memories. Suspicions and sensual pleasure. Deceit. Violence. Hate. Then trust and gratitude filled them unlike any the bukko had seen there before. Sober with regret and guilt. A moment passed before he could speak, and when he did, the words did not come easily to his lips. Nevertheless, they came.

  “Forgive me,” he said. “You are a true and honorable and brave friend. I owe you my life.”

  Then he turned and strode into the forest.

  Cobra watched the shadowed foliage where he had disappeared until she had no more tears of joy to cry. Then she laid her head back, with her cheek against Brown John’s palm, and closed her eyes. Some time passed before she spoke.

  “Brown,” she asked timidly, “can… can you forgive me? For all the lies?”

  “Of course,” he assured her. “It was my fault. I knew you loved him. It was foolish of me to think you might have, you know, changed your mind. I’m old enough, I should have known better.”

  Her eyes opened and said, “I’m glad you didn’t.” She shuddered with a chill and sank back against him, her eyes closing again as she whispered, “Hold me, Brown. Hold me.”

  “I’m right here,” he said, pressing her close. For a long moment he sat stroking her burnt hair and cheek, then he continued, “You knew from the beginning, didn’t you? About Robin?”

  She nodded. “I saw how strong her Kaa was when she was a prisoner of the Kitzakks.”

  Brown John, Robin and Jakar shared a thoughtful glance, and the bukko asked, “And you planned everything, didn’t you? You knew just what you were doing every step of the trail. You knew the way to Pyram all the time, but you wanted the map so you could copy the signs on Robin.”

  “No,” she whispered emphatically, and looked up into his eyes. “I knew the way, and I knew the legend said that the signs were somehow involved, but I didn’t know how. I… I was just hoping that somehow things would work out. It was crazy of me. Stupid and reckless. And I would have given up a dozen times, but you wouldn’t let me.” She smiled warmly. “It wasn’t me, Brown. It was you. You were my bukko. You picked the stage, and you set the plot, not me. And with your flattering eyes and magical twaddle you compelled all of us to play it as it deserved to be played.” Her voice weakened, and her whisper barely had breath. “No, Brown… it was you.”

  She reached to touch his cheek, and her arm lost strength, dropped lifelessly beside her.

  Robin moaned, hiding her face against Jakar’s chest, and he held her as she heaved with sobs.

  The bukko closed Cobra’s eyes, then kissed her softly on her lips, lingering there.

  She was still in his arms when Gath returned carrying a dead buck over his shoulders. It was dusk, and Robin and Jakar had found clothing and weapons, and built a fire in the open beside the tree. They stood beside it now, silent, watching Gath. He noted the firelight glistening on Robin’s tear-stained cheeks, then set the buck beside the fire and joined Brown John. He did not speak until the bukko looked up.

  “I will dig her grave,” he said. “You will tell me where.”

  The bukko nodded in reply.

  They buried Cobra where she died, under the tall tree with the red bark. The grave was deep, and she was laid on a thick bed of needles so her passage to the other world would be made in comfort. Earth covered her, and then heavy stones, so that the animals would not dig up her bones and carry off her Kaa.

  When this was done, Brown John stood alone beside the grave until night came. Then Robin joined him, took hold of one of his hands in both of hers, and they stood silently together. After a long moment, the bukko hugged Robin, then turned to move back to the fire. Robin gently stopped him.

  “Brown,” she said, her tone curious but respectful, “there’s something I don’t understand. Why, if she knew, didn’t she tell us?”

  “Because she knew what that savage nymph knew. Only a woman with a strong and virtuous Kaa, who only wants the jewels so they could help someone else, can touch them. And she was afraid to tell, fearing, if you knew you had that strength, that the knowledge might corrupt you and ruin everything.”

  “Oh,” said Robin. “But she could have told you!”

  “No,” he said. “She had been the Queen of Serpents too long… she could trust no one.” Robin nodded uncertainly.

  “I know,” he said thoughtfully, “that it seems strange that a woman of such deadly cunning could believe in the legend, and trust it. But she was desperate to save Gath, and she had nothing to believe in, except what she had believed in as a child.”

  “She wasn’t born a serpent?”

  “No. She had a childhood just as you did, at least until she was fourteen, but she never had a chance to grow up. In fact, for the last few weeks, deep inside, in her heart… she was that child again. Wildly and helplessly in love.”

  “I don’t understand,” Robin said.

  “You don’t have to,” the bukko replied, his tone kind but firm. “Someday, perhaps, I’ll explain it to you. Not now.”

  Robin smiled. “I shouldn’t be making you think about it, should I? But there’s just one thing, then I won’t talk anymore. What am I going to do with the jewels? I mean, it’s wonderful and all that, and very flattering. But I’m not a goddess! You know that. I’m a dancing girl.”

  “I know,” he said casually. “That does present a problem, but we’ll work it out.”

  “You’ll help me?” she asked, excited by the prospect.

  “Of course,” he said, “I’m your bukko! That’s what I do.”

  She smiled as only she could smile, and raised up on her toes, kissing him on the cheek. Then, with sober gratitude, she said firmly, “She was right about you, Brown. You talked us through the hard times, all of us, even Gath. We would have failed, wouldn’t even have tried, if you hadn’t helped us all. And I won’t have you thinking different.”

  He chuckled at that, and the boyish glint came back into his eyes. “You may be right,” he said firmly, “and it’s proud of it, I am. I admit it.” Then he felt his voice change, and he asked himself as much as he asked Robin, “But can those that help others, help themselves? Answer me that.”

  Forty-Five

  WALK AWAY

  Jakar led them south through the forest of red trees. He had traveled in this land, and was searching for a trade road which he remembered headed east. By following it, they hoped to reach the vast desert which lay to the south of the Great Forest Basin.

  After a day on foot, they came across a village built among t
he branches of the trees, one of the many belonging to a tribe of savages Jakar believed were called Ikarians. They traded meat Gath had killed in the forest for a cart and a mule, obtained vague directions and continued on their journey.

  On the second day, they reached a savanna and found the road Jakar searched for. The Way of All Coins. It was a merchants’ road that stretched all the way from the Endless Sea in the west to the Kitzakk Empire in the east.

  Following the road southeast, they crossed the savanna in one day, came to the northern edge of the great desert and turned east. After five days they reached the massive dry cataracts that marked the border between the desert and the forest. They headed along the cataracts for the better part of a day, and came to Wowell Pass, the first trail heading north into the forest basin.

  It was dusk when they arrived. The orange light of the sun was spilling across the flat desert to the southeast in long radiant bars, and striking through the drifting clouds that hovered over the heights of the deep stone chasms, turning them to glowing golds and oranges and pinks. Through the openings in the clouds, they could see the huge shelves of rock that descended to the basin, the stepping-stones of the gods.

  They stared at the vista long and hard, with weary relief on their trail-darkened faces. They all knew that at the base of Wowell Pass, only two days away, was the Valley of Miracles and Rag Camp. Home.

  They made a night camp behind sheltering rocks, and Robin set about preparing a feast to celebrate. In their travels, she had secured a skin of desert wine, various herbs and a vial of olive oil, and Gath had speared several plump desert hens. Insisting that, since the men had done the work of hunting, she would prepare the feast by herself.

  By the time she was applying the last garnishes to the meal, the sunset was only a glow in the western sky, and Brown John, Jakar and Gath were waiting obediently, sitting together on the ground a good twenty feet from her fire. Gath rested against a rock beside his helmet. Jakar, the bandages now removed from his healed arm, sat facing him, massaging the weakened muscles. Brown John sat to one side between them, with his legs drawn up under him.