The Dark Gods

by Josepha Sherman

  "Hm?" the king asked absently, still regarding Sheila with sharp interest. "What's that?"

  The voice sighed. "May I or may I not depart?"

  "Oh. Yes. Go. By all means, go.

  That seemed an awfully rude way to treat a being of Power. Apparently the voice seemed to think so, too, because it said, "You have a way of forgetting just who it is that grants you your precious magic."

  Kumuru grinned sharply, holding up the Amulet of Power. "This does, demon. As long as I keep it whole and unbroken, you and your dark fellows must serve me. Don't you dare to forget it! And now—begone!"

  There was the faintest rush of wind, and then Sheila felt that unseen presence vanish. Kumuru set the amulet on its little table and stepped gracefully down from his throne. "I fear I've treated you abominably so far," he said with a charming smile. "You understand: the pressures of royalty and such."

  "Uh . . . of course.

  "But that's no excuse. There's never an excuse for rudeness to a lovely young lady."

  Lovely? echoed Sheila in silent wonder.

  "Come," purred Kumuru, "will you forgive me?"

  He really was so-o-o gorgeous, smiling at her like that! "Of course," Sheila repeated nervously.

  "Good!" Kumuru moved to her side, cloak swirling dramatically about him. "How foolish I've been, seeing you only as a young girl with some small tricks of Power. Now I know differently."

  Sheila licked her dry lips. "D-do you?"

  "Oh, indeed! A sorceress such as yourself, young though you still are, would be a rare prize."

  "Hey, wait a minute! I'm not anybody's 'prize'!"

  Kumuru bowed urbanely. "A bad choice of words, I admit it. What I meant to do was ask you a question: Why not join me?"

  "What!"

  "Why do you look so startled? Surely, as a sorceress, you have ambitions! Think how an alliance with me could fulfill them!"

  "I don't know if I'm as ambitious as all that," Sheila said sarcastically.

  "Only because you haven't thought about this fully." Kumuru moved even closer, his dark eyes gleaming. "What is it you most desire? Ah, I know! Surely a young sorceress desires knowledge? Think, now: were we allies, the libraries of a hundred lands would be yours. Wise men would come to you with wondrous scrolls containing rare and terrible spells of Power far beyond your dreams."

  "Uh ... Thanks, but no thanks. I’m happy with my dreams the way they are.”

  For a moment an angry frown furrowed Kumuru's brow. Then it faded, and his charming smile returned. "Wise child! What fills your dreams, then? Beautiful treasures, perhaps? Picture them: paintings and statues by the most famous of artists, tapestries woven by hands so skilled that the figures in them seem to live, the wonders of every land brought before you for your delight."

  "I think I'd rather see artwork kept safely in museums.”

  Kumuru blinked, taken aback. "Then what would you have? Jewelry? Ah, yes, of course. Diamonds, rubies, emeralds. Ropes of shining pearls. The sparkle of gold, the gleam of silver . . ." He moved slowly around her, his cloak slithering softly along her arm, making Sheila shiver. "Or finest raiments, perhaps," Kumuru added, his voice as silken as the cloak, "to best display your growing womanhood, satins and furs, clothing more lovely than ever worn by mortal woman.

  "No . . . I don't think so."

  "Come now, my lovely one, my little sorceress. Think! We are both young, ambitious, powerful. Join your powers to mine, and we will create a force such as none has ever known. Join me, and no one will stand before us. Join me—and together we will rule the world!"

  Sheila took a deliberate step back. "Thank you, but I'd really rather not."

  Sudden anger blazed up in Kumuru's eyes. "Enough of this game!" he roared. "Are you fool enough to say no to Kumuru?"

  "I guess I am. Sorry."

  "Sorry! I'm offering you a chance for enormous Power, unlimited Power! How dare you refuse me!"

  Kumuru was ranting like a spoiled brat. Now that he wasn't playing the charmer, his eyes were so cruel…

  Yes, Kumuru was gorgeous. But one look at those burning eyes, and Sheila could think only of the ugliness within.

  "Well, yes," she answered him softly. "I'm afraid I do."

  "You fool! You little vixen—so be it!" With a wave of his hand, Kumuru once more summoned his rock-men. “Take her away! Throw her into the chambers below this hall." Kumuru glared at Sheila. "If you will not join me, little one, you shall still serve a useful purpose. You shall make a worthy sacrifice at the time of moon-dark! Now: take her away!"

  13

  Prisoners

  Where was she? What was this place? A bare room, as far as she could see in the dim light . . . dark, dank . . . It had to be a prison cell. But, no. Judging from the mounds of odds and ends piled in the corners of the room, it hadn't been meant to hold prisoners, only tools and other equipment. A storage room, that's what it was. And it was located somewhere beneath the audience hall.

  But how had she gotten here? The last thing Sheila could recall was that hall, and Kumuru glaring at her, then signaling his rock-men, and . . . and .

  Suddenly it all came back to her. Just before the rock-men grabbed her, the King of Samarna had blown a cloud of dusty white powder in her face. It hadn't been anything magical, of course, not after all the stuff the voice had told Kumuru. Sheila guessed it must have been some sort of drug, to keep her quiet until he could get her safely locked up.

  Sheila yawned again, a long, satisfying yawn, then grinned. Kumuru had done her an unintentional kindness with that drug—he had given her a good night's sleep.

  But was it still night? The only light was the faint glow filtering in through an air slit high in one wall. Sheila couldn't tell if the glow was reflected sunlight or the yellow light of a torch. Sheila sat up in alarm. What if that was torchlight? What if she had slept the day around? That would make it night, all right—the night of the dark of the moon!

  The night of sacrifice!

  Sheila bit back a cry of sheer panic. She had to get out of here! She had to find Pelu and Dian. And rescue Illyria. And stop Kumuru and his Dark Gods! Sheila groaned in despair. Why not go ahead and save the whole world while she was at it?

  Calm down, she told herself. Before she tried any heroics, she first had to find a way to unlock this disgustingly sturdy door.

  But that was easier said than done. She couldn't reach the lock at all, or the hinges, and of course Kumuru hadn't left her the backpack, or her sword, or even a dagger, so she couldn't try to cut her way out.

  With a worried frown, Sheila turned away from the door, trying to come up with some other idea. Maybe if she pretended to fall ill, and yelled for help? Then, when someone came to investigate, she could overpower him and escape.

  No, that wouldn't work, either. The only guards around were probably those awful rock-men. She couldn't see them answering a call for help. Nor, in her wildest imagination, could she see herself overpowering them.

  Still, it was worth a try. After all, Sheila thought wryly, it always seemed to work in the movies!

  "Help?" she called tentatively. "Help me!"

  That wasn't even loud enough to startle a mouse. Taking a deep breath, Sheila tried again.

  "Hey, out there! Help! I need help!"

  "Sheila?" came a faint voice. "Sheila, is that you?"

  "Pelu! Where are you?"

  "I'm not sure. Some sort of storage room, I'd guess."

  "Me, too. Are you all right? What about Dian?"

  "I'm here with Pelu," Dian chimed in. "Neither of us is hurt. But there's no way out of this room!"

  Sheila sighed. "I know. I've already tried."

  A noise from the darkness behind her made Sheila whirl with a startled squeak.

  "Sheila!" called Pelu sharply. "What is it? What's wrong?"

  Sheila was too horrified to answer. One of the piles of tools was moving!

  But then Sheila giggled in relief. That wasn't a pile of tools at all, of course
not. It wasn't some nameless Thing, either. Kumuru evidently didn't have enough storage rooms available, because Sheila was sharing her cell with another prisoner.

  She approached the huddled form hesitantly. "Are you all right?"

  The figure stirred again and groaned pitifully. Sheila blinked. Her eyes had adjusted to the dim light by now, just enough for her to discern that this other prisoner was a man.

  No! Not just a man—Mardock! It was Mardock!

  Sheila took an instinctive step backward, then stopped and held her ground. The wizard was still unconscious. He was hardly any threat now. Mardock's robes were torn and stained, his hair and beard were wildly disheveled, and livid bruises marred his arms and pale face.

  He must have gained consciousness somewhere along the way and tried to fight the rock-men, Sheila thought.

  What a mistake that must have been! Fighting with the rock-men was probably like trying to overcome the force of an earthquake. No wonder he was unconscious!

  Kumuru must have been more worried about the strength of Mardock's magic than he had admitted, because he had had the man wrapped round and round with chains so heavy Sheila doubted he could do more than turn his head. More to the point, the chains were made of cold, gleaming steel.

  Stepping back, Sheila almost stumbled over a small, hard something that turned under her foot. She glanced down, then pounced.

  "A key!" Sheila exclaimed, jubilantly.

  But after that first rush of hope, she let out a long, sad sigh. This couldn't be the key to the door, because the door was locked from the outside. In fact, there was only one lock in this room that the key could possibly fit…

  And sure enough, it did.

  Sheila sat back on her heels in disgust. Great. Just great. This was the key to Mardock's chains. One of the rock-men must have dropped it; their hands were pretty crudely shaped, after all.

  Just then, Mardock stirred again and his eyelids flickered open. The sorcerer was awake. He made a feeble attempt to stand, then fell back in his chains, staring grimly around the small room. And his gaze fell on Sheila.

  "You!"

  "I wish people would stop calling me that," Sheila complained. "I do have a name, you know."

  Mardock shot her one quick, hate-filled glare, and then ignored her completely. Instead, he glanced around the room again, noting the locked door, and frowned. Only then did the sorcerer's eye return to Sheila again. He studied her as though seeing her for the first time.

  "Why, you're a prisoner here, too! Now, that I did not expect."

  Sheila gave him a puzzled stare. "You sound as though you knew you'd find me in the palace."

  His eyes were scornful. "Somewhere hereabouts, yes. Why do you think I came here?"

  "To steal the Dark Gods' power?"

  "That, too, of course. That vain young idiot of a king doesn't deserve to wield it! Making up that incredible story that only he can safely touch the amulet—the fool! Let me but have the time to work my spells upon it, and the Amulet of Power shall be mine!" Mardock stopped to take a deep breath. In a much calmer voice he said, "Naturally I knew you were in Erech-ban. Am I not a sorcerer? I have no intention of losing you, my dear. Not until you teach me the secret of your magical device."

  "The Tracker? Forget it, Mardock!"

  He shrugged, chains rattling, and continued: "My magical spies told me what was happening with you, with the unicorns, enough to make me leave King Ankzar in Queelotoo and come here."

  Sheila had to laugh. "Your spies don't like you too much, do they? I mean, they let you march right into danger. Look how you wound up, all . . . well . . . all wound up!"

  "This is hardly a situation for humor! I suspect Kumuru plans to sacrifice us both."

  "He does."

  "And you lack that arcane pack you generally bear."

  "My backpack? I guess Kumuru kept it."

  "I take it that means you have no magical implements with you. No, of course you don't! Kumuru would not be so complete a fool." The sorcerer let out his breath in an angry sigh. "Then we are doomed. What a senseless way to die."

  "Wait a minute, we're not dead yet!"

  "Well, we're as good as dead! Kumuru knows I can work no magic while trapped in this—this steel cocoon!"

  Sheila hesitated, chewing thoughtfully on her lip. There just might be a way out of this mess after all.

  She held up the key. "Look what I found."

  Mardock's eyes blazed. "Are you telling me you have the key to these chains?"

  ''I do.''

  "Give it to me! Now!"

  "Not so fast. If I set you free, what's to stop you from using your sorcery on me?"

  Mardock forced a smile. "Why, you have my word on it!"

  "Oh, come now, Mardock! How stupid do you think I am? We both know what your promise is worth."

  His smile hardened. "What do you want, then?"

  "How about a trade? Your freedom for my Tracker."

  Mardock gave her a cold stare. "Now, how stupid do you think I am? I would hardly carry about such a valuable tool like a toy! The thing is perfectly safe, hidden where you shall never find it."

  "Of course," Sheila said smoothly. "I was only testing you. Anyhow, I have a better bargain to make. You want the Amulet of Power, don't you?"

  Mardock said nothing, but the sudden keen light in his eyes gave her her answer. She smiled.

  "All right. I know where the amulet is. You can have it, and your freedom, if you let me out of here."

  "Yes, yes, done!"

  "Wait. Hear me out. You've got to get me and my friends out of this place."

  "I said yes!''

  "I'm still not finished. You've also got to break the spell on Illyria."

  "What!" Mardock roared. "No! Never! Why should I want to help that—that woman?" He tried to fold his arms haughtily, but the chains wouldn't let him move that far. "Forget it, girl. We have no bargain."

  "No?" Sheila twirled the key in her fingers. "You mean, you truly want to be sacrificed?" She shrugged. "Well, okay, then. I'll just call the rock-men back and give them this key."

  "No! Wait!"

  ''Yes?"

  "All right. All right!"

  "We have a bargain, then? You'll let us out and break the spell on Illyria?"

  Mardock glared at her. "Yes," he muttered reluctantly. "Now, unchain me before it's too late!"

  As soon as he was free, Mardock staggered to his feet, wincing at the pain from his stiff muscles and various scrapes and bruises.

  "You're all right?" Sheila asked doubtfully.

  "Of course." Mardock wriggled his fingers, limbering them up, Sheila knew, for magic. "Kumuru has left many accounts unsettled. But once the Amulet of Power is mine, oh, he shall pay!"

  "Uh . . . right. But first, let's just get out of here, okay?"

  Mardock gave her a quick, scornful glance, then turned his attention to the door. He strode back and forth in front of it, muttering to himself. At last the sorcerer stopped, pointed an imperious pinkie, and uttered a sharp, twisting Word. The door creaked on its hinges—But nothing else happened.

  Mardock raised an angry eyebrow. He repeated his Word, with a slightly different inflection. This time there was a sharp cracking sound and the door shook violently in its frame— But nothing else happened.

  Sheila gave the door a good, hard look as Mardock raised his hand for another try. "Ah, excuse me," she said to the perspiring sorcerer, "have you tried-"

  His glare was dark as a thundercloud. "Are you trying to teach me by business?"

  ''No, but I-"

  "Stand aside!"

  "Look, Mardock, your spell worked. The lock broke, I heard it."

  "But the door will not open!"

  "Well, no, not like that, it won't. It's kind of silly for you to waste your magic on it, when all we have to do is-"

  “I said, stand aside!"

  With a sigh Sheila obeyed. She watched the sorcerer try another and yet another spell. But though the door rock
ed back and forth, it still didn't open.

  "Enough's enough," she said at last. "Now you stand aside." She put her hand on the door—and pulled it smoothly open. As Mardock stared in disbelief, Sheila gave him a sweet smile. "Don't feel badly about it. You're not the first person who's tried to push open a door marked Pull."

  "Come," Mardock said shortly. "Let us get out of here.

  With a melodramatic flourish the sorcerer cast open the door to the room holding Pelu and Dian. The two warriors gasped at the unexpected sight of the wizard, their hands fumbling for the swords no longer at their sides.

  "Hey, no!" whispered Sheila. "He's on our side!"

  "For the present," muttered Mardock darkly, sweeping out of the cell.

  Sheila stopped a moment to scoop up her backpack from where one of the rock-men had dropped it. "Ha, and our swords, too." She grinned at Pelu and Dian, and then all three hurried after the wizard.

  Sheila still had no idea whether it was day or night. Neither did the others. They hadn't yet seen one window to the outside world. It was like wandering around inside a gigantic cave. Come to think of it, Sheila decided, that was pretty much what this palace was: a giant, artificial cave cut into the mountainside.

  Whatever time it might be, at least there were now people in the palace corridors, real, flesh-and-blood people, mostly servants in plain brown or gray robes, hurrying on their way to this or that errand. They weren't a problem. Oh, no, they were surprisingly easy to elude. Not really so surprising, Sheila mused. Servants of tyrants, she had noticed back when Dynasian still ruled Campora, were loath to notice anything that might interfere with their duties. Anything that might get them in trouble.

  But detachments of the rock-men were stalking those corridors, too. Ominously silent for all their bulk, they swung their nearly featureless heads left and right, searching for trouble. Each time one of those eerie constructs appeared, the escaped prisoners would dart frantically into the nearest shadows.

  So far they had been lucky. But Sheila, huddling with Pelu, Dian, and the angry-eyed Mardock, barely dared to breathe. She knew it was just a matter of time before a stony hand would close on her shoulder and drag her back to prison.