Phunik strove. The uhu must have realized what went forward here. The Khibil was dead, yet he stood up and opened his eyes and raised his hand and poured forth occult power!
Between the two sorcerers, one in his palanquin and the other dead, grew the famed and feared Quern of Gramarye. Fed by the combined forces in opposition, the radiant disc of raw energy moved. Slowly at first, and then with more assured power, it surged through the air toward the balcony and the palanquin and Phunik.
How many, I wondered, how many of my three comrades were using their kharrna thus to afford us protection? Deb-Lu with his funny toppling turban, Khe-Hi with his smart alec manner, and Ling-Li with all the secrets of a Witch of Loh — yes, the three of them should have no problem in dealing with the uhu Phunik even if he was the son of Phu-Si-Yantong and possessed of great Kharrna.
The whispering fragile voice screeched.
“Mother! Help me!”
Khe-Hi and Deb-Lu between them had struggled with and overcome Phu-Si-Yantong away in the arena of the Jikhorkdun in Ruathytu, capital of Hamal. He’d had Csitra to help him at a distance; he had failed and the Quern of Gramarye had smashed his evil genius into some other and occult realm of death.
Phunik knew only too well how his father had died.
“Mother!” The screech was frantic. “Help me!”
“Remember Phunik’s promise to you, Csitra!” I bellowed up.
“Phunik is my child—”
“The child of Phu-Si-Yantong and sworn now to slay you, woman!”
“Mother!”
San Aramplo’s corpse jaws clacked open.
The voice was that of Deb-Lu-Quienyin.
“Your assistance would be useless, Csitra. The child should never have been born, as you well know. The Seven Arcades are not to be insulted or deceived.”
The rampaging circle of liquid light roared on and over the balcony and, just at the end, it constricted and contracted and lanced like a single battering ram shaft of pure radiance, whisked the palanquin away to nothingness.
San Aramplo said: “We knew you would help the uhu, Csitra; misbegotten child or not, Phunik was yours. Do not mourn him or feel your help might have made any difference. The child was doomed from the moment of its conception.”
The Khibil sorcerer collapsed, returning whence he had come, gone again to join his predecessors in the Thaumaturges of Thagramond.
“Do I believe all this?” demanded Nath the Impenitent. He glared balefully at the gibbering horde of malformed creatures under the balcony.
A shrilling vibrated the air. My eardrums pained. With the disappearance of Phunik many of the more obscene and grotesque creatures in his retinue also vanished. The Katakis glared about stupidly, their bladed tails circling dangerously above their heads. The Chail Sheom were wailing and carrying on. The Womoxes just ran away, bellowing.
The roof of that stupendous chamber split.
The floor cracked across the flames and foul-smelling fumes boiled up. Smoke black and choking began to fill the hall.
Nath the Impenitent turned to me, his face a sweating mask, and said, “Dray! Phunik’s handiwork is collapsing. You must all get out at once! Run!”
Seg rapped out: “Deb-Lu knows what he’s talking about. Come on, my old dom! Sprint!”
“Aye! Up there — see through the crack in the roof — the Suns!”
A whole section of wall smashed down, bringing the adjacent roof with it. Columns were toppling and spilling their drums across the floor. Like madmen we all started to clamber up the rubble to freedom. A Chulik was struck by a dislodged capital and fell, blood streaming from that shaven head. I grabbed his arm and hauled him on, and Nath seized his other arm and together we scrabbled somehow up the slope of detritus.
The gratitude with which I saw that emerald and ruby radiance pouring through the ruined roof shook me with its violence. To breathe fresh air! To walk in the light of the Suns of Scorpio! To get out of this vile place!
I cast a look back. The hall continued to disintegrate although the thrilling vibration slackened and died. My ears still sang with the reverberations. Yet the balcony whereon Csitra sat enthroned in so much sumptuous glory remained intact. Some parts of the Coup Blag had been fashioned by her. The maze still existed and only those portions designed by Phunik would be destroyed.
The Impenitent had my harness slung over his shoulder and now he said: “You’d best put this on, Jak. Scabbard that damned great bar of iron.”
“Yes,” I said. “My thanks, Nath.”
I took my gear without looking at Nath. She continued to stare up at me, those slits of jade startling in the pallor of her face. Around her existed the faintest haze, and I guessed she had encased herself and her throne and retainers in a Caul of Protection.
What was she thinking?
Her power had been seriously weakened. No longer could she call on the kharrna of her child to reinforce her own.
Was she still suffering under the passion for me that had so deluded her crazed mind? Or would she now hate and loathe me because her child was gone?
Balancing on the broken shards of the hall, I swung the wounded Chulik around into the path of another.
“Take care of your comrade, Chulik!” I snarled at him, and he grasped the wounded man and went scrabbling on up the slope of rubble toward the light of the suns.
“Go on! Go on!” I yelled. I motioned to Nath and Seg, savage, intemperate, not to be disobeyed. Seg wanted to come down. I said, “This I must do, Seg.”
“Don’t be long. That’s all. Or I’ll be back.”
Good old Seg! So, in the end, I was left alone on that smoking pile of rubble staring down on Csitra as the Witch of Loh gazed somberly up at me.
And, in that fraught moment, as I truly believe, I did feel sorry for her.
She had been led into paths of wickedness by Phu-Si-Yantong and, no doubt, by her own willful passions. The devil had tempted her and she had succumbed. Yet, now, her husband was dead and her child was dead. I did not know if she had other children. Her dreams had vanished. She was alone.
A slithering slide of rubble smashed into the marble pavement off to the side. I ignored the disturbance. Still she stared up, and I swear the brilliance flamed from those slits of luminous emerald eyes. If she put forth her kharrna now and blasted me on the spot... But she must have recognized the futility of that. She must have known that she could not hope to defeat three mages who would instantly hurl their kharrna through me to smash the coruscating Quern of Gramarye upon her.
With a grating metallic sound the green curtains began to close over the throne and its sumptuousness and upon Csitra, the Witch of Loh.
Just before the curtains closed to blot her from view, I heard her through all the uproar of a collapsing palace hall call out to me.
“Despite all, Dray Prescot, I do not yield my claim on you. That, I will never give up!”
She was gone, the green curtains shivering together.
A prodigious crash from the hall as though the bottom of the world had caved in at last drew my attention to what was going on out there. Smoke and dust obscured the air. Columns fell like ninepins. Kov Loriman still knelt by the body of the Lady Hebe and as I caught a distorted glimpse of him through the smoke the floor in front of him parted as though sliced by a knife. A fault line, sharp and distinct, opened and the marble floor dropped away. The Lady Hebe vanished into the depths and Loriman was left kneeling on the lip of the chasm.
He extended both arms as though in prayer.
Although the deed would not be in the character of the man, had he leaped into the gulf after the lady, I would not have been surprised.
Leaping fallen heaps of masonry, I reached him. He stood up with the stiff motions of old age. Now was no time to take chances. I had plans for this man, vast plans, and if he balked me by killing himself off, I would be mightily displeased.
So I hit him flush on the jaw and seized him and so slung him over my shoulder.
Chunks of masonry and brick from the collapsing ceiling still rained down. Tiles skated like bats. Statues did not come to life — nothing unusual for Kregen if they had — but tottered and fell. Seg appeared at the top of the rubble slope, saw me, and started down.
Like a squall of sleeting hailstones a curtain of stones slashed down between us.
Seg’s yell just reached me. “Leave him!”
“Stand fast! I can make it!”
The rubble began to slide away from under my feet. My legs pumped, and stones, bricks, broken tiles and flat chunks of plaster seethed away, sending up choking clouds of dust.
A scorpion appeared and stood on a smashed capital and waved his feelers at me. His arrogant sting curved up over his back. He spoke to me, words that drilled through the bedlam of a collapsing palace.
“You must put him down, Dray Prescot, Prince of Onkers. You must save yourself for the work the Star Lords demand.”
“And this man is a part of that work, scorpion, onker yourself!”
“You must do as you are commanded.”
A damned great chunk of brick came from somewhere and hit me glancingly on the shoulder. Could Csitra be hurling these brickbats at me in an occult temper?
I started off, clutching Loriman, scrabbling and heaving up the rubble.
The agile figure of Seg showed ahead as I glanced up, scrambling down to me.
Another bulky shape sprang into view abaft Seg and started down. Nath the Impenitent might hate and detest the lords he’d known in life; he found Seg and me of different mettle.
Even if a magical palace fell down about my ears, I, Dray Prescot, the Lord of Strombor and Krozair of Zy, wasn’t going to be beaten by a damned heap of rubble.
The blue radiance swept in fast and sharp, bloating into the phantom form of the giant Scorpion. Coldness washed me, I was swept up and away, head over heels into a limbo of nothingness.
Well, one thing I knew. I intended to have a few hard words with the Star Lords this time when they thumped me down before them. Superhuman entities or no damned superhuman entities — very hard words, by Zair!
Notes
[1] Kov: duke. Kovneva: duchess. Strom: count. Stromni: countess. Kapt: general of an army. A.B.A.
[2] db’s: dwaburs per bur. A dwabur is five miles and a bur is forty minutes. A.B.A.
[3] Here Prescot gives the composition of the Eighth and Ninth Armies together with long lists of names. A.B.A.
[4] Dustrectium: firepower as delivered by bows, slings and engines.
[5] Prescot goes on with the guest list. The only sensible thing for me to do is merely to list the names without disrespect to their importance in Prescot and Delia’s lives. Nedfar, Emperor of Hamal. Kytun Kholin Dom. Ortyg Fellin Coper and his wife Sinkie. Prince Vardon Wanek and his wife Natema and family. Gloag. Hap Loder and an uproarious ferocious band of Clansmen. Pompino the Iarvin — without his wife — and the rascally crew of Cap’n Murkizon, who, I am happy to say, called frequently on his Divine Lady of Belschutz. King Filbarrka and Queen Zenobya, a splendid pair of comrades. Pando and Tilda were invited, and arrived to wonder — but that is another story. There were many friends Drak had made in his own adventures. And the same went for Silda, notably Lon the Knees. Unmok the Nets. Duhrra of the Days. Just about all the nobility of Vallia attended, as was proper. All the people of the household and those close to us. The list was apparently endless. A.B.A.
[6] For a description of Prescot’s marriage to Delia, see Dray Prescot #6, Manhounds of Antares. A.B.A.
[7] See: A Fortune for Kregen, Dray Prescot #21.A.B.A.
About the author
Alan Burt Akers was a pen name of the prolific British author Kenneth Bulmer, who died in December 2005 aged eighty-four.
Bulmer wrote over 160 novels and countless short stories, predominantly science fiction, both under his real name and numerous pseudonyms, including Alan Burt Akers, Frank Brandon, Rupert Clinton, Ernest Corley, Peter Green, Adam Hardy, Philip Kent, Bruno Krauss, Karl Maras, Manning Norvil, Chesman Scot, Nelson Sherwood, Richard Silver, H. Philip Stratford, and Tully Zetford. Kenneth Johns was a collective pseudonym used for a collaboration with author John Newman. Some of Bulmer’s works were published along with the works of other authors under "house names" (collective pseudonyms) such as Ken Blake (for a series of tie-ins with the 1970s television programme The Professionals), Arthur Frazier, Neil Langholm, Charles R. Pike, and Andrew Quiller.
Bulmer was also active in science fiction fandom, and in the 1970s he edited nine issues of the New Writings in Science Fiction anthology series in succession to John Carnell, who originated the series.
More details about the author, and current links to other sources of information, can be found at
www.mushroom-ebooks.com, and at wikipedia.org.
The Dray Prescot Series
The Delian Cycle:
1. Transit to Scorpio
2. The Suns of Scorpio
3. Warrior of Scorpio
4. Swordships of Scorpio
5. Prince of Scorpio
Havilfar Cycle:
6. Manhounds of Antares
7. Arena of Antares
8. Fliers of Antares
9. Bladesman of Antares
10. Avenger of Antares
11. Armada of Antares
The Krozair Cycle:
12. The Tides of Kregen
13. Renegade of Kregen
14. Krozair of Kregen
Vallian cycle:
15. Secret Scorpio
16. Savage Scorpio
17. Captive Scorpio
18. Golden Scorpio
Jikaida cycle:
19. A Life for Kregen
20. A Sword for Kregen
21. A Fortune for Kregen
22. A Victory for Kregen
Spikatur cycle:
23. Beasts of Antares
24. Rebel of Antares
25. Legions of Antares
26. Allies of Antares
Pandahem cycle:
27. Mazes of Scorpio
28. Delia of Vallia
29. Fires of Scorpio
30. Talons of Scorpio
31. Masks of Scorpio
32. Seg the Bowman
Witch War cycle:
33. Werewolves of Kregen
34. Witches of Kregen
35. Storm over Vallia
36. Omens of Kregen
37. Warlord of Antares
Lohvian cycle:
38. Scorpio Reborn
39. Scorpio Assassin
40. Scorpio Invasion
41. Scorpio Ablaze
42. Scorpio Drums
43. Scorpio Triumph
Balintol cycle:
44. Intrigue of Antares
45. Gangs of Antares
46. Demons of Antares
47. Scourge of Antares
48. Challenge of Antares
49. Wrath of Antares
50. Shadows over Kregen
Phantom cycle:
51. Murder on Kregen
52. Turmoil on Kregen
Copyright © 1985, Kenneth Bulmer
Alan Burt Akers has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, to be identified as the Author of this work.
First published by Daw Books, Inc. in 1985.
This Edition published in 2008 by Mushroom eBooks, an imprint of Mushroom Publishing, Bath, BA1 4EB, United Kingdom
www.mushroom-ebooks.com
Originally published as "by Dray Prescot, as told to Alan Burt Akers".
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in
any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher.
ISBN 1843196824
Contents
A Note on Dray Prescot
1 – Concerning the crime of old Hack ‘n’ Slay
2 – The Empress and Emperor of Vallia Dance
3 – An aerial skirmish
4 – Ambush in the clouds
5 – I inspect the zorca lines
6 – A dagger in the night
7 – The Battle of Bengarl’s Blight
8 – Drak and Silda
9 – Armada against Csitra
10 – Nath the Impenitent
11 – Of two kovs at The Dragon’s Roost
12 – Over the Snarly Hills
13 – Loriman the Hunter listens to me
14 – Into the Coup Blag
15 – Of the cost of discovery
16 – “I never was fond of skelebones!”
17 – Concerning a toad’s supper
18 – Deb-Lu’s boiling water trick
19 – Kov Hurngal’s treachery isrepaid
20 – The Scorpion of the Star Lords
Notes
About the author
The Dray Prescot Series
Omens of Kregen Page 17
