by Allan Cole
Master and horse had pursued the mare and her rider, but after a long, teasing chase, they'd vanished. Much later they'd appeared again, this time to lead Khysmet and his master through a winter storm iced with sorcery and danger. The wild ride had ended with the mare and her mistress vanishing as mysteriously as before.
And now, here the mare was once more—sans rider.
Khysmet whinnied a command for her to hold, then trotted forward to claim her.
But the mare shrilled amusement and shot away, dashing across the plain into the gathering night. Khysmet pursued her for a while, but was forced to turn back to care for his herd. He spent a long night pacing the ground, trembling with the remembered scent of her.
At dawn, the mare returned to entice him once more, rearing up to whinny her seductive challenge, then dancing off with Khysmet in pursuit. No matter how hard he ran she always managed to stay comfortably ahead, until he was forced to give up the chase and turn back.
The next time she came, however, he was prepared. His herd leaders were ready for his signal and when he charged after the mare, they gathered up his harem and followed.
The chase went on all that day into the late afternoon.
Now, with the shadows of night spilling across the wrinkled stone brows of the far range, Khysmet had the sudden thrilling knowledge that the mare was tiring.
Her steps became faltering, her breathing labored—flecks of pure white foam flying off her nostrils.
And then she stopped and he shrilled his victory cry, sprinting forward to close the gap and take her.
But there was a flash of lightning and the human woman suddenly appeared, dropping from the sky to land lightly on the mare's back.
Surprised, Khysmet skittered to a halt. And then he and the mare and the woman became a living island, the herd flowing around them like a great animal river, thundering and shrilling as they raced onward, their king forgotten.
Then all was silent, except for the distant rumble of the herd's flight.
The woman's hand lifted gracefully, a single finger bending out to point at Khysmet.
He snorted, not knowing what to do.
Khysmet felt a tingling shower of magic—familiar magic. Magic that had once carried him into and through the maw of an icy hell.
The woman shouted, “Your master awaits!"
Then she and the mare whirled and leaped upward.
Khysmet leaped after them.
Up, up, up ... until their pathway became the gathering stars.
In the glittering distance the Demon Moon shimmered in silent, bloody challenge.
Khysmet's mighty heart thundered in anticipation.
The call he'd waited so long for had finally come.
CHAPTER SIX
WHERE DARKNESS WAITS
Palimak crouched in darkness so complete it felt like he was being smothered in a damp blanket. There was no sound other than that of his breathing and the steady drip, drip of water oozing from the unseen ceiling just overhead.
It was painfully cold—like pincers squeezing his joints where they stretched the material of his woolen costume. Icy sea water made a thin, salty sheet on the floor of the tunnel, burning through the soles of his boots. The steel cap on his head, meant to ward off blows from swords or war clubs, was a painful halo of cold.
Suddenly, he felt as if all his energy was being sucked through the cap and he swept it off. The cap fell to the floor with a heart-jolting clang. At that moment a drip of freezing water plopped down and he jumped as if an invisible monster had clutched him by the back of the neck.
"No need to be alarmed, Little Master,” Gundara said. “There's no one here."
"Except for the rats,” Gundaree added. “You forgot to mention the rats."
"I didn't forget anything,” Gundara snapped. “I just didn't want to make our master nervous."
"Maybe he should be nervous,” Gundaree argued. “They're pretty big rats."
The two Favorites were each perched on a different shoulder and although they were invisible in the darkness Palimak could tell from their weight that they were full size—about three hands high.
"I don't care how big the rats are,” Gundara said. “Our master is very brave."
"Maybe so,” Gundaree said, “but there sure are an awful lot of them. And they're getting closer!"
"Stop it with the rats,” Palimak ordered. “And get busy making a light."
"I was only warning you,” Gundaree grumbled. “No need to snarl at me, Little Master."
"Honestly,” Gundara said to his brother, “you're such a quarrelsome thing. I wish Mother had eaten you, like I told her."
"Shut up about Mother!” Gundaree snapped.
"I will not shut up!” Gundara stormed back. “You're nothing but a—"
"Light, please!” Palimak broke in.
"All right! All right!” Gundara said.
There was a low muttering from the two Favorites, then a clatter of little talons as they cast the spell. Crack! and a glowing ball suddenly appeared, hovering some six feet off the tunnel's floor.
"There's your light, Little Master,” Gundara said.
Palimak started when he saw scores of small, furry bodies dart away—seeking the cover of the darkness that loomed just beyond reach of the dim, swirling light.
"And there's your rats,” Gundaree said with some satisfaction. “Told you there were a lot of them."
Palimak suppressed a shudder. “Get rid of them,” he commanded.
"You're supposed to say ‘please,'” Gundara sniffed, acting hurt.
"Goodness, gracious,” Gundaree said. “You'd think we never taught him how to be polite."
Palimak sighed. Bequeathed to him by his father, the two Favorites had watched over him since he was an infant—a mixed blessing despite their powerful magic.
Although they were twins, they were exact opposites in appearance. Gundara had the elegant body of a man, but the head and claws of a demon. Gundaree bore the face of a darkly handsome human perched on a demon's torso. Both were fashionably dressed in tunics, tights, capes and burnished boots. They were greedy, irritating, quarrelsome and had no use for anyone other than Palimak. Although they were commanded to obey him, it was no good arguing with them when they got into one of their moods.
"Please!" Palimak said.
"I'm hungry!" Gundaree complained.
"Pleases go down better with a few treats,” Gundara added.
Suppressing a groan of frustration, Palimak dug into his pocket and pulled out a handful of sweets. The two Favorites quickly gobbled them up.
Gundara burped. “Is that all?” he asked.
"We're still hungry,” Gundaree added.
"One more word,” Palimak gritted, “and I swear I'll turn the two of you into big, fat, slimy slugs!"
The Favorites gulped, then leaped into action without further delay. They jumped to the floor of the tunnel. There was a purple flash and suddenly they transformed into two very large, very deadly cats.
The cats/Favorites darted forward into the darkness. An explosion of fierce yowls and frightened squeals soon followed. A moment later Palimak found himself dodging a stream of gray bodies as the rats bolted out of the gloom and ran straight for him.
"What the hells!” he shouted, as a monster rat ran up his leg.
He swatted it away. Then he kept on swatting, kicking and cursing as a veritable river of squealing rodent bodies flowed around him, over him and even between his legs, trying to escape the Favorites.
Then it was over and he stood angry and panting as Gundara and Gundaree calmly strolled back into the light in their original forms.
"They're gone, Little Master,” Gundara piped.
Glaring, Palimak opened his mouth to give them a piece of his mind. Then he shrugged. What was the use? It was his fault for not being specific. Given more than one way to do things, the twins usually chose the route that gave their master the most trouble.
To keep the peace, he manag
ed a “Thanks, boys,” then got down to the job at hand.
Palimak motioned and the two leaped back onto his shoulders. He stalked onward, the glowing ball bobbing in front of him, lighting the way. Almost immediately, however, he was brought up short and to his dismay he learned the reason why the panicked rats had rushed him. The passage ended abruptly in a blank-faced wall
"Oh, we meant to tell you, Little Master,” Gundara said, “the tunnel doesn't go any further."
Palimak was stunned. “What happened?” he croaked. “This isn't how it looked in either of the visions! There was an opening! I saw it clear as day. Both times!"
"There's one thing wrong, Little Master,” Gundaree said.
"Two things, actually,” Gundara added.
"Oh, shut up, you!” Gundaree demanded.
Palimak growled for silence and got it. He knew very well what his trouble was. Or he could take a damned good guess, at least. He should have realized at the start of his journey through the tunnel that it wouldn't be so easy. From the moment he'd entered the mouth of the Idol of Asper he'd sensed a wrongness. It felt like a place where the blackest of magic had been practiced a long time ago.
Although there was nothing visible present, he sensed the damp corpses of ancient castings. The sense of danger had been so strong that he'd sent Leiria and the other members of his party away while he cast his arsenal's strongest series of protective spells.
The danger had seemed to lessen. But no sooner had he and his guards advanced down the tunnel again than the feeling of danger returned, just as strong as before.
Although Leiria and the others had argued fiercely, he'd made them wait at the entrance while he explored further, casting cleansing spells as he went on so there'd be nothing to worry him when he retraced his steps.
After five hours of searching through the darkness—using up the magic in one lightball after another—he'd started to realize why King Rhodes had looked at him so strangely when he'd made his request.
"The idol?” he'd said, surprised. “No one goes into the idol!"
"Nevertheless,” Palimak had responded, “that's what I want to do."
Oddly enough, King Rhodes hadn't questioned him further. And his eyes had seemed to gleam with mysterious pleasure when he'd granted permission.
As he studied the blank wall once more, Palimak again puzzled over the king's reaction. When he'd entered the tunnel and encountered the spore of the old spells, Palimak had assumed Rhodes was hoping some evil magical presence lurking within the passage would do the job the king had been attempting since the Kyranians first landed in Syrapis. Which was to kill Palimak.
But now Palimak had reached the end of the tunnel and there was nothing apparent that posed any danger.
Gundara suddenly tensed on his shoulder. “Beware, Little Master!” he said.
Palimak was startled. “What's wrong?"
"There!” Gundaree said, pointing at the wall. “It's waiting!"
"And it's really, really hungry, Little Master,” Gundara added.
"Maybe we'd better get out of here,” Gundaree said.
Ignoring them, Palimak drew his dagger, reversed it, and started tapping on the wall. There was a sound like the beat of a drum. The wall was hollow! And then suddenly, steam started wisping off the face of the wall.
Palimak ignored it and continued tapping.
CHAPTER SEVEN
QUEEN CHARIZE
On the other side of the wall Palimak's tapping echoed in a vast dark chamber.
Tap, tap. Tap, tap.
Then there was a sound of things stirring, like the dry wings of large insects disturbed in their slumber.
Tap, tap, tap.
"Listen, sisters,” rasped a voice. “Someone's coming!"
Tap, tap.
"Silence, sisters,” said another. So deadly in tone that if there had been human ears present the voice would have chilled the foolish bearer of those ears to the marrow.
And there was silence.
Except for: Tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap.
Echoing through the chamber.
Queen Charize stirred on her throne, examining the source of the sound. She was practically blind, but that made no difference here, since sight would have been useless in her underground kingdom of eternal night. Her senses of smell and hearing, however, were so acute that she could make out Palimak and the Favorites through solid stone.
Tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap.
The hammering produced the image of a tall, wingless creature, with two legs and two arms.
Tap, tap.
And little Gundaree and Gundara were displayed in her greedy mind. They were perched on the wingless creature's shoulders. Her nostril openings widened, sniffing the chamber's hot air. The scent carried through the pores of the stone, drifting like steam wafting through from the cold Other Side.
"I smell a human, sisters,” she said.
There was a low, hungry muttering from the others. “Human! Human! Human!"
Queen Charize sniffed again. “And demon as well."
More muttering. Puzzled, instead of hungry: “Human and demon?"
The presence of both races together was astounding. Could it be the two beings on the creature's shoulders?
The answer came from the spoor rising through the pores of the stone. And all her highly-tuned senses told her the two beings were clearly magical. With no real form. They were creations, not true living things. Strange spirits whose origins were very ancient indeed. Charize smiled to herself. She could almost taste the presence of the long-ago sister witch who had made them.
Again she tested the air. Separating the human and demon scents. Tap, tap, tap. Form radiating an image on her brain. And then the scent was traced back to a single source—laid over the sound image of the wingless creature.
"A feast, sisters!” she chortled. “Let him in!"
There was a hungry muttering. Broken by one voice:
"Pardon, Majesty. But what if it's Safar Timura?"
The question was a hot dagger to the huge organ that served Charize as both heart and lungs. It had been a long time since she'd truly fed on a human's spirit and her intense hunger had interfered with her memory.
"How dare you speak the name of Safar Timura?” she rasped. “It is forbidden here!"
"Just the same, sister,” came the voice. It was that of Tarla, her royal rival. “I must speak it for the good of us all. It was Safar Timura who nearly destroyed us, if you recall."
Queen Charize remembered very well.
Again came the sound from the Other Side: Tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap.
And there was a slip in awareness and she found herself back at that moment—some ten sheddings ago—when her most grievous enemy, the mighty wizard Lord Timura, had confronted her. Except, in this vision, she found herself in Timura's mind. Cloaked in darkness. Danger all around. She experienced both his emotions and her own at the same time.
Charize choked in disgust as her mind merged into the filthy body of the remembered other: She was Safar Timura! And she was surrounded by darkness and ghastly beings. And those beings were herself and her sisters!
* * * *
Safar heard heavy talons rattle on stone and a snuffling sound, like a beast following a strong scent. He knew he had to do something quickly before he was found.
The idea jumped up at Safar and he knew he couldn't wait and think it through, because with thought would come fear and fear's hesitation would be the end of him. He made a spell and clapped his hands together and roared: “Light!"
And light blasted in from all sides, nearly knocking him over with the sudden shock of it. He had been blinded by darkness before, now he was blinded by its white-hot opposite. There were awful screams of pain all around and then his vision cleared and the first thing he saw ripped his breath from his body.
The beast towered above him, enormous corpse-colored wings unfolded like a bat's. It had the stretched-out torso of a woman with long thin arms and legs that ended
in taloned claws. There was no hair on its skull-like head and instead of a nose there were only nostril holes on a flat face shaped like a shovel.
Safar nearly jumped away, but then he realized the creature was too busy screaming in pain and clawing at its eyes to be a threat. He was in an enormous vaulted room, filled with blazing colors. Great columns, red and blue and green, climbed toward glaring light then disappeared beyond. The room was filled with hundreds of death-white creatures, some crouched on the floor howling pain, others hanging bat-like from long stanchions coming out of the columns. They twisted and screamed, horrid flags of misery blowing in a devil wind of conjured light.
Safar spotted the one he wanted. Again he shouted, his magically amplified voice thundering over the wails: “Silence!"
The shrieks and screams cut off at his command, and now there was only moaning and harsh pleas for “Mercy, brother, mercy!"
Safar paced forward, moving through the writhing bodies until he came to the throne. It looked like a great pile of bones—arms and legs and torsos and skulls stacked in the shape of an enormous winged chair. As he came closer he saw the ‘bones’ were carved from white stone. The creature who commanded that grisly throne was like the others, except much larger. A red metal band encircled her bony skull to make a crown. Unlike the others, however, the creature was silent and although she was hunched over, claws covering her eyes, she made no outward show of pain.
Safar stopped at the throne and said loudly, for all to hear: “Are you queen to this mewling lot?"
"Yes, I am queen. Queen Charize.” As she answered she couldn't help but raise her royal head, carefully keeping her eyes shielded. “I command here."
"You command nothing,” Safar replied, voice echoing throughout the chamber, “except what I, Lord Timura of Kyrania, might permit."
Queen Charize said nothing.
"Do you understand me?” Safar demanded.
He made a motion and the light became brighter still. The creatures shrieked as their pain intensified. Even the queen could not stop a low moan escaping through her clenched lips.
"Yes,” she gasped, “I understand."
