by Allan Cole
"Yes, Master,” Safar corrected her. “You will address me as ‘Master.’”
The queen gnashed her fangs in protest, but she got it out: “Yes ... Master!"
* * * *
Tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap.
The sound brought Charize back to awareness. It was just in time, because as her great head jerked upward she sensed danger.
Not from without, but from only a few feet away where Tarla was sidling closer. Charize could smell the hate musk on her rival's breath. Hear the faint clatter of talons reaching for her throat.
The queen slashed with her mighty claws. There was a cry, the sound of a falling body; then the heady scent of death filled the chamber. And Tarla was no more.
Excited whispers came from her subjects as word was passed on what had happened.
"Are there any others, my sisters,” came Charize's deadly voice, “who wish to challenge me?"
The whispers died.
Silence.
Except for the tap, tap, tap from the Other Side.
And then the remembered humiliation of the incident with Timura combined with the shock of Tarla's recent bold attempt at regicide to force a decision. Charize had to show them who ruled here. A raw display of power was required to silence those who had favored Tarla.
"Let him in, sisters,” she said. “And we will feast!"
* * * *
Palimak pressed an ear against the wall, listening as he tapped with the haft of his dagger. Tap, tap, tap.
All his senses were focused on the hollow echo that came back to him. The space behind the wall was quite large, he guessed. More of a chamber than just a rift in the rock's surface. Also, it was obviously a place that was quite warm. Witness the steam rising off the stone.
Getting ready to make another sounding, he shifted and felt a scratch against his cheek. He drew back, noticing a raised ridge on the otherwise smooth wall.
"What's this?” he asked.
On one shoulder, he felt Gundara shiver. “I don't like this place, Little Master,” he said.
"Maybe we should leave,” Gundaree added.
"Is there danger?” Palimak asked.
Frightened as he was, Gundara could not help a snort of derision. “We said it was hungry, Master,” he pointed out.
Gundaree's teeth were chattering. Still, he managed to add, “And it wants to eat us!"
Palimak ignored their fear. “Make the light brighter,” he said.
"Are you deaf, Little Master??” Gundara said. “Didn't you hear us tell you to leave as fast as you can?"
"Do as I ask,” Palimak said. Then added, “Please."
"All right, if that's what you want, Little Master,” Gundaree said. “But don't blame us if you end up in the belly of some nasty thing."
"I won't,” Palimak said.
The two Favorites muttered a little chant, the ball of light grew brighter and Palimak was able to see the raised area of the rock more clearly. It was a carving of a winged snake with two heads, its tongues flickering out to taste the air.
"The sign of Asper,” he whispered.
At that moment the Favorites cried out in unison: “Look out, Master!"
There was a low rumble, then a loud grating noise, and as Palimak stepped back the wall began to shift in its moorings. Palimak drew his sword—double-arming himself by readying a defensive spell. But then the wall stopped moving. Foul-smelling steam hissed through an inch-wide opening between the wall and its stone frame.
He waited, whispering a spell to turn the awful odor into something more bearable. The Favorites were silent, which he supposed was a blessing. But the lack of their usual chatter was unnerving.
Palimak had rarely seen them so afraid before. During grave danger to himself their usual attitude was a cheery resignation that they'd receive a new master if the danger proved fatal to Palimak. Sure, they'd miss him. Perhaps even mourn him a little. But the fact was that after a thousand or so years they'd become fatalistic about the many short-lived creatures who had been their masters. What would be, would be. In this case, however, their attitude was far from indifferent.
Palimak probed the darkness for some sign of the danger that was worrying them. He didn't doubt its existence. Gundara and Gundaree were never wrong about such matters. But all he could sense was the spoor of the long-dead magic he'd encountered when entering the tunnel.
Once again he looked at the twin-headed snake symbol of Asper. Unconsciously he reached out to touch it. But as he did so he had a quick mental flash of something—a horrible something—leaning forward in anticipation. Its enormous fangs exposed in a wide grin.
At that moment the ball of light sputtered and died and all became darkness. There was a subterranean rumble, then the heavy grating of stone against stone: he sensed that the door was opening wider.
Palimak took a deep breath and stepped through.
And then there was a loud, echoing boom! as the door slammed shut behind him.
CHAPTER EIGHT
ESCAPE FROM HADIN
Oh, how he danced. Danced, danced, danced. Danced to the beat of the harvest drums...
Safar fought against the spell's fierce grip. He groaned with effort as the cosmic puppeteer manipulated the strings, forcing him through another performance on the doomed stage that was Hadin.
All around him his eternal companions pranced and sang, giving themselves over joyously to the harvest queen's song: "Lady, O Lady, surrender/ Surrender..."
Smoke once again columned up from the volcano that formed a backdrop for the dancing queen. Showering sparks flitted through the black smoke in seeming time to the music.
Any moment now history would repeat its terrible cycle and Safar would once again experience the soul-searing death of flesh, bone and spirit.
But now there was a difference. And with that difference came hope. It seemed to him that he'd regained awareness more quickly than the other times he'd been resurrected in the eternal hell that was Hadinland.
And now he was armed not only with the words of Asper's spell, but also with the memory of Palimak charging out of the mist of some Spellworld on the muscular back of Khysmet.
Of course, it could all be merely another awful manifestation of the eternal damnation that he'd been flung into when he'd first cast the spell back in Esmir. In fact, he had no proof that the original spell had worked. He had only a vague feeling of success. For all he knew the poisons might still be pouring through the magical portal that linked Hadin with Esmir.
Another worry—what about Iraj? What had happened to him? Safar had a skin-crawling suspicion that his old enemy lurked nearby. Perhaps not exactly in the Spellworld of the doomed Hadin. But close. Very close.
He tried to concentrate. Tried to push his magical senses into places where he thought Iraj might be hiding. But he was so caught up in the spelldance that he could only keep prancing like a naked clown.
"Lady, O Lady/ Surrender..."
Slapping his palms against his chest. Pounding time with his bare feet in the hot sand.
For a frightening second he nearly lost control—and with it his will to cast the spell that he prayed would free him.
Then he heard the distant thunder of the volcano building toward its fiery climax. The queen turned to observe the eruption and then shout her belated warning to her doomed flock. Just as she had hundreds of times before.
Grasping for all his strength, Safar quickly began to chant the words of Asper's spell:
"Hellsfire burns brightest
In Heaven's holy shadow.
What is near
Is soon forgotten;
What is far...
* * * *
Iraj struggled higher onto the rock.
Or at least he imagined it as a rock. Just as he imagined the soul-burning sea behind him to be something that could be described as a “sea.” Never one for deep reflection, Iraj had no sense of the metaphysical, much less words to describe it.
All he knew was that he c
ould hear Safar's voice. And although that voice came from a place he couldn't see, he was certain it was quite close.
There it was now:
” ... Embraced as brother;
Piercing our breast with poison,
Whispering news of our deaths...
Iraj knew instinctively that his enemy was preparing to escape.
And he was determined to escape with him.
Iraj flung himself higher, ignoring the pain as he flopped onto the rough surface. At the end of the rock was a blue-gold shimmer of light. He thought he could make out movement in that light. Gigantic shadows, dancing to a rhythm he couldn't hear.
Safar was one of those shadows.
He was sure of it.
Iraj reached ... reached ... reached...
* * * *
The primitive creature that was Kalasariz saw Iraj moving and cried out to the others. “The king,” he rasped. “Follow the king!"
Racked by pain, he heaved closer to Iraj.
Behind him the two wormlike things who were Fari and Luka heard his call.
Desperately they forced their bodies after him.
* * * *
Lava was already rolling down the sides of the volcano when Safar chanted the last lines of the spell:
” ... For she is the Viper of the Rose
Who dwells in far Hadinland!"
A great cloud of black smoke burst from the mouth of the volcano. The queen and the other dancers screamed in terror.
Safar braced for the mighty blast of hot breath that he knew would follow.
But just then he heard a shrill animal cry. With that cry came power over his own limbs and he sagged—nearly falling to the sand. It was as if the puppet strings had been suddenly cut.
There was another shrill trumpeting and he staggered to his feet. With difficulty, he turned on numb limbs and his blood thrilled when he saw an amazing creature charging across the beach.
It was Khysmet! White coat gleaming silver in the sun.
Safar didn't stop to think where he had come from, or how. Somehow he got the strength to move forward. Then to run on legs that felt like dead stumps as he staggered across the sand to meet the stallion.
When he reached him, he gathered all his strength and threw himself on Khysmet's broad back.
The horse swung around and sprinted for the shoreline where the waves crashed over a tumble of black rocks.
At that moment the volcano erupted.
An enormous blast of burning hot wind smashed against them.
But instead of dying, they were flung high into the air.
Safar had a sensation of soaring. Then he felt Khysmet plunge forward. It was as if the stallion had suddenly grown wings and they were hurtling across a flame-washed sky.
Behind him he heard someone shout: “Safar!"
It was Iraj's voice.
Safar bent around, but there was nothing to see except the smoking ruins of the island.
Then he felt something sear his chest and he cried out in surprise and pain. It seemed to burn through flesh and bone, then pierce his heart like a fire arrow.
And then the pain was gone as quickly as it had come.
Khysmet trumpeted joy, surging forward with even greater speed.
Safar was too weary to feel anything now. He collapsed on the horse's back, letting his friend carry him away to wherever he wanted to go.
Still, he couldn't help whispering, “Free, free.” And then he thought he heard a faint echo: “Free, free."
Stupefied by exhaustion, he barely registered that echoing voice.
Then darkness seized him and he knew nothing more.
CHAPTER NINE
DEATH SONG
Palimak was surrounded by huge red eyes that glittered at him hungrily through the darkness. He couldn't move; his limbs were like stone and each breath came with great difficulty.
His mind was a chaos of half-formed thoughts. Where was he? Who were these creatures? Why had he ignored the advice of his Favorites? And what in the hells had possessed him to step through that door in the first place?
Although the inky-black chamber he found himself in was sweltering hot, a chill ran down his spine as he realized that “possession” wasn't too far off the mark.
He'd entered because he had been compelled. Some powerful force had reached through the very rock to seize him and bend him to its will. Deafening him to his survival instinct's loud clamor of alarm.
Gundara and Gundaree were silent. From the absence of weight on his shoulders, he guessed they'd shrunk to their smallest size, hoping they wouldn't be noticed.
He heard a heavy body moving toward him and he raised his eyes to see the largest of the burning orbs coming closer. By the gods, he wished he could see more!
Although, perhaps it was just as well he couldn't. From the lumbering sound of the body and the fact that the creature's eyes were several feet above his head, Palimak realized that the beast must be enormous.
With that jumble of frightened thoughts came an idea: These creatures feared light! If someone had asked him how he knew this, he couldn't have answered. The knowledge just suddenly bloomed in his consciousness: to escape, all he had to do was conjure up another ball of light.
Desperately, Palimak tried to signal the Favorites—sending his thoughts out through the well-oiled mental channel between them. Their disappointing answer came racing back. That avenue of escape had been slammed shut by the same powerful magic compelling him to enter the chamber. The spellcaster had factored in its own vulnerabilities and had made sure that no light spell at Palimak's command would work within these chamber walls.
Strong magic rippled the dank currents of sweltering air as the huge red eyes moved closer.
Palimak dug deep for strength. But with a shock he realized that merely keeping the life forces burning in the tomb of his spell-frozen body had drained his powers. He couldn't even open his mouth to speak, much less scream.
The beast paused in front of him, its breath like a foul wind issuing from an open grave. Then it moved slowly around him, as if measuring Palimak for that very same grave. Finally it returned to the front, huge eyes widening even larger—two red orbs ready to swallow him up.
Then the beast spoke. “This creature is a puzzle to me sisters,” it said. Rasping though it was, Palimak detected a feminine quality in the voice. “From all outward signs it is human,” the voice continued. “But there is also a demon scent to it. Demon and human and in the same body. How could this be?"
A low mutter swept the chamber—many low voices echoing: “How could this be? How could this be? How could this be?"
The beast's voice rumbled with what Palimak thought might be laughter. “No matter, sisters,” it said. “Human or demon, it will taste just as fine."
"As fine ... as fine ... as fine,” came the echoing reply.
The hungry edge in all of those voices nearly swept away Palimak's will to resist. But he strained mightily to make one last desperate effort.
Then it was like a gate opening, and power burst forth. His whole body tingled as it awakened. A burning sensation afflicted his eyes, as if they'd been struck by hot sunlight. He closed them. The pain vanished and when he opened them again the night-black darkness had dissolved into a dusky gloom.
Surprised as he was by this just-in-time return of his powers, he still didn't move. Towering over him was a nightmare figure—grave-devil white with outstretched wings so wide they seemed like they could enfold a score of Palimaks. Behind the beast were similar creatures, slightly smaller, but just as heart-stoppingly ghastly.
The beast bent its terrible head until its eyes were at Palimak's level.
It said, “Before I eat you—whether you be human or demon—I'll gift you with my name. It's none other than Queen Charize you will honor with your flesh. Queen Charize who will suck up your marrow. Queen Charize who will savor your soul. So make yourself ready, little one. As ready as you can."
As Charize spoke
, Palimak's eyes flickered left and he saw a high altar with a half-dozen steps leading to the top. Resting on that altar was an enormous coffin whose lid was sculpted into the shape of a demon. Emblazoned on the sides of the coffin was a golden twin-headed snake with outstretched wings.
Immediately he knew what it was: the long-lost tomb of Lord Asper!
This was the place he had sought from the moment he'd set foot on Syrapis. Long ago his father had told him the tale of his visionary visit to the chamber of horrors ruled by Queen Charize. And of the coffin he'd found there—a coffin containing, Safar had been certain, the body of Lord Asper, as well as many secrets.
It came to Palimak that if only he could reach the coffin he would be safe. And with that knowledge came the odd feeling that he was not fully in command of his mental faculties. It was as if some older, wiser being had entered his body. A being of cool cunning and calculation. He felt strong and coldly superior. Magical power coursed through his veins.
He spoke, a touch of sarcasm coloring his tones. “Pardon, royal one, for defiling your ears with my puny voice. But before I die I would demand a boon from you."
Surprised, Charize stepped back, barbed tail curling like a giant scorpion's.
"What's this?” she growled. “You can speak?"
A sound like mistral winds hissing through the poisoned thorns of a devil tree stirred the cavern: “He speaks, sisters, he speaks!"
Palimak shrugged, which surprised the monster queen even more. Her spell should have rendered him not only speechless, but immobile as well.
"It's a small thing,” he replied. “I open my mouth and words present themselves.” He glanced at the queen's horrid minions who were whispering to one another, uneasy at his ability to shake off the effects of Charize's spell. “The important thing isn't whether or not I can speak,” Palimak continued, “but whether you will grant me the boon I've requested."
Queen Charize had recovered her wits. “Boon?” she said scornfully. “Why should I grant you a boon?"
Palimak frowned. “Are you the Queen Charize,” he asked, “who claims to be ruler of the Sisters of Asper?"
The question surprised him as much as it did Charize. Where had it come from? And why was his voice deeper, his words formed from an experience and a knowledge beyond his ken?
