by Allan Cole
"Claim!? Claim!?” Charize roared. “How dare you speak such words of doubt?” Her talons clattered angrily. “Now, your death will not be so easy, foolish one. You will linger in exquisite agony before I eat you."
Palimak's instincts begged him to scream pleas of Mercy, lady, mercy. Instead, he amazed himself by finding the courage to smile.
"If the gods will my death, so be it,” he said. “Painful though that death may be."
He managed even greater nerve and wagged a finger under the queen's flaring nostril slits. “But I'll die knowing you are a great liar,” he said. “Claiming a throne you don't deserve."
The queen's barbed tail shot toward him, poisoned hook aiming for his heart. Palimak wanted to jump away, but he steeled himself. A heartbeat later he was rewarded as the hook point stopped scant inches from piercing his breast.
Charize glared at him, clearly confounded by his boldness. All around her the other creatures hissed in wonder at their queen's hesitation. Whispering, “Is it true? Is it true? Does Charize lie?"
At that moment Palimak spotted the bloody corpse of one of her subjects, sprawled near what he thought might be her throne. Several of the beasts were gathered next to the corpse and it seemed to him that they were the ones leading the chorus of doubts. In his misfortune, had he in fact been fortunate enough to have stepped into the middle of a palace revolt?
"Who are you to dare brand Charize a liar?” the queen roared. “Tell me your name before I kill you."
"Why, I am Prince Timura,” Palimak answered. “Perhaps you'll find that name familiar. Hmm?"
Gasps of terror echoed through the chamber. “Timura! Timura! Timura!"
Charize's great jaws unhinged, but not to attack. Instead she was in shock. Then her jaws snapped shut as she fought to recover her dignity.
"Now, you are the liar,” she said. “I have met Safar Timura. And you are not him. He was fully human. There was no demon blood running through his veins."
"Actually, I'm his son,” Palimak said. “Disbelieve that at your own peril."
Charize managed a sound that Palimak took for forced laughter. “What a fool you are,” she said, “if you think you are a danger to me."
"Perhaps I am a fool,” Palimak said. “Test me and we shall see. But I promise you this: one of us will be dead before the test is done. And I strongly doubt that it will be me.” He chuckled. “My father told me what a coward you were. How he bested you with the simplest of spells."
Charize clacked her talons in annoyance. “It was a silly trick, nothing more,” she said. “You will notice I didn't fall for the same trick this time. My spell made you powerless to bring light into this chamber!"
Palimak snorted derisively. “You silly creature,” he scoffed. “I don't need light. I am part demon ... as you noticed. And with my demon eyes I can see you and your sisters quite well."
He surprised himself when he said this. Until the moment he opened his mouth, Palimak hadn't realized what had happened. Raised among humans, he had kept the demon side of himself at bay for most of his young life. It was a part of him that he feared. A side that he believed was capable of shameful cruelty. However, he now realized it was the demon side that had saved him. Somehow, when fighting to win his powers back, he'd broken through to his demon self and this was what he was using to confront Charize.
As this realization ran through his mind, it also came to him that there was more to it than that. Far more than just his demon powers were available to him. Suddenly, he felt as if his father was quite near. This notion took him by such surprise that he nearly turned his head to see.
But the chamber abruptly became silent and he quickly shifted his full attention back to Charize. A moment before she'd been wavering between waiting to find out more about her new enemy and killing him on the spot.
As he looked up, he saw that indecision end as she drew back a mighty claw to gut him where he stood. Unfortunately, there was nothing Palimak could do about it. This was Charize's lair, after all. And on her own ground there was no magic he knew of that was powerful enough to do more than slightly wound her before he died.
Palimak instinctively went for the bluff. He struck quickly, conjuring up a spell that would be quite painful, but would actually do little damage.
Charize gasped as the spell hit her and jumped back. Before she had time to think, Palimak laughed at her.
"That's just a small sample of what I can do,” he said. “Threaten me again and I shall turn you into ashes.” He gestured at the others. “I'm sure your sisters have wearied of your rule and will thank me for killing you. So don't make the mistake of thinking I am vulnerable merely because I am outnumbered."
The other creatures muttered. From their tone, Palimak could tell that his bluff had struck the target dead center. None of them would mourn if Charize fell.
Unsure of her ground, the queen decided to play for time. “You asked a boon, small one,” she said. “What is it?"
Palimak nodded, as if satisfied the danger had passed. “I entered this chamber,” he said, “because I seek the tomb of Lord Asper. My father told me it was here and bade me pay homage to him."
Charize snarled. “You entered this chamber,” she said, “because I compelled your obedience. There was no free will involved in your decision."
Palimak shrugged. “The more you speak,” he said, “the more convinced I am that you are a liar."
He turned, as if he were about to stroll easily away through an open gate, instead of being confronted with a thick stone door. He even raised a hand, as if to cast a spell that would open it. He was mildly surprised when he saw that his hand looked barely human. His sharp claws were so fully extended that his fingers were misshapen. His tongue reflexively moved around inside his mouth and he found long sharp fangs instead of blunter human teeth.
An odd part of him wished he had a mirror to peer into, wondering what his face looked like. How much of a demon had he become?
"You didn't answer my question,” Charize said. “What is your boon?"
Palimak turned back. “Why, only to pray before Lord Asper's tomb,” he replied.
Charize nodded her mighty head at the dais. “Go pray,” she said. “But know that you will pray your last, little one. For you will not leave this chamber alive."
Palimak felt a spark of fear. She'd finally guessed he was bluffing. And was only letting this charade play out long enough to satisfy her followers.
He hid this knowledge and strode calmly over to the dais and mounted the stairs. He didn't have the slightest idea what he was going to do next. It seemed there were two liars in this chamber. Palimak was the first—Safar had most certainly never told him to pray at Asper's tomb. He was only working off a vague notion that once he reached the tomb there might be a chance of escape.
The second liar was Charize—just as he'd claimed. Palimak had studied the ancient Book of Asper Safar had bequeathed to him long and hard. And he doubted strongly that the old master wizard had left creatures such as Charize and her sisters to guard his resting place.
If Asper had truly intended such a thing, there'd have been broad hints about it in the book—the latter pages of which were filled with the demon's thoughts on his approaching death. He'd known his illness was fatal and had worried that despite all his efforts, no one would find his tomb and the secrets it contained. Secrets that might save the world from the disaster he'd foretold.
When Safar had visited here in his vision, Asper's ghost had commanded him to come to Syrapis. Since Safar's death had prevented this, Palimak was determined to take his father's place.
As he knelt before the tomb the world shifted slightly and Palimak remembered his wild dream ride on Khysmet, his father shouting to him for help. And he thought, but is he really dead? And, if not, how can I save him? And what is it I'm supposed to save him from?
Charize rumbled, “What are you waiting for? Pray!"
Her voice jerked Palimak back to a chilling reality.
If he didn't come up with something quickly he'd soon be dead himself. Palimak bent his head over the twin-headed snake that was the symbol of Asper.
In the background he heard Charize lift her monster's voice in song:
"We are the sisters of Asper,
Sweet Lady, Lady, Lady.
We guard his tomb, we guard his tomb,
Holy One ... “
Although the sound of her voice was like broken glass scraping against stone, the song was strangely familiar. It became even more so as Charize's subjects joined her in a blood-curdling chorus:
"We take the sin, we take the sin,
Sweet Lady, Lady, Lady.
On our souls, on our souls,
Holy One."
Out of Palimak's memory crawled the courtyard scene in far-off Caluz, where Queen Hantilia and her subjects sang a similar song. In Hantilia's case the song was a call to sacrifice, a mass suicide for the greater good of Esmir and the world at large. But the same song rang shrill and evil when Charize and her devil horde sang the words in their banshee voices.
” ... On our souls, on our souls,
Holy One."
It was a harsh melody of despair that nearly ripped Palimak from his moorings. All his confidence dissolved and his life suddenly seemed like it was dangling from the slenderest of threads in the Fates’ holy loom. And he thought: Help me, father! What shall I do?
At that moment what sounded like a great drum boomed from someplace close by.
And Asper's golden snake came alive.
Part Two
The Return of Safar Timura
CHAPTER TEN
BETWEEN WORLDS
Safar jarred awake, the thundering sound of an enormous drum booming in his ears. At first he thought that he was back in Hadin and the harvest drums were commanding a new performance.
Then relief flooded in along with awareness as he realized he was still astride Khysmet who was racing across a starlit sky. No more would he be forced to dance the mad dance of Hadin under the erupting volcano.
He was free!
Yes, but free for what? The question came from nowhere. And for some reason it frightened him. Where was he going, and why? What fate awaited him?
Other sensations flooded in. The first was the knowledge that he was now fully clothed. He flexed his limbs and felt a familiar weight, then glanced down and saw he was dressed in the same battle gear he'd worn when he'd faced Iraj and his minions back in Caluz. To his delight, he even felt his sheathed sword slapping against his thigh as Khysmet soared onward.
Reflexively, he touched his belt and found the small silver dagger waiting there—the magical witch's knife Coralean had given him long ago.
Then he heard the drum again and lifted his head. Off in the distance—moving at the same speed as Khysmet—was a bobbing torchlight. He whispered a sightspell and the image grew clearer. A spark of joy ran through him when he saw the glorious black mare and the familiar figure of the beautiful Spirit Rider.
Safar grinned and was pleasantly surprised how good the smile felt. It had been a long time since he'd worked those muscles, that was for certain. And now that he understood who had saved him, the “why” didn't matter as much as before. Khysmet whinnied as if in agreement.
Safar glanced around, trying to guess where he might be. The first thing he noticed was the absence of the blood-red Demon Moon. He'd already figured that he and Khysmet were in some sorcerous betweenworld. Asper had postulated the existence of such alternate worlds in his book. He'd even performed some experiments whose results were promising, although not final proof.
Absently, Safar ran some magical calculations in his mind. Although they didn't lead him to any useful observations—much less a discovery—it was eminently satisfying to use his brain again for so elegant a purpose.
For a long while he'd felt like nothing more than an enslaved animal. Like a poor dumb ox tethered to a grain wheel, going round and round with no will save that instilled by his master's whip.
He looked out at the Spirit Rider, torch held aloft, ebony skin gleaming in the starlight. A base side of him ached to catch her and enfold her in his arms.
By the Gods, it had been ages since he'd felt such life!
Then once again he heard the thunder of the big drum. This time the sound was followed by a long hiss, like that of an angry snake. The sound continued: boom! ... hiss ... boom! The rhythm was vaguely familiar. And then the identity of the sound came to him. A man of the high mountains, he'd had scant experience with the sea. But that was what it sounded like: a rolling sea striking some coastline, then drawing slowly back to gather strength to strike once more.
He looked down and saw a sparkling night ocean beating against a shore. Another sightspell increased his perspective and he saw a huge stone idol rising out of the booming surf.
Safar recognized the figure immediately. It was Asper.
Syrapis was just below!
The Spirit Rider and her mare plummeted downward. The mare whinnied for them to follow and Khysmet trumpeted a note of agreement.
Down and down.
Down and down.
Down!
* * * *
"Something's wrong,” Leiria said. “Palimak's been gone too long."
"Aye, lass,” came Biner's rumbling reply. “I was thinkin’ the same thing myself."
He shifted his bulk, bringing the heavy club up. It was Biner's favorite weapon—a thick-headed club sprouting a needle-forest of horseshoe nails.
His action triggered Leiria's decision. “Let's go,” she said, starting down the tunnel.
Biner followed, along with the dozen Kyranian soldiers who had volunteered for the expedition.
Leiria had been reluctantly hanging back for well over an hour. Palimak had commanded them to wait, which was something that Leiria—a woman of action—was never very good at. Except when the waiting involved ambushes, of course.
She'd always been supremely patient when it came to tarrying by a trap set for an enemy. In such cases she enjoyed herself as much as any sane person can take pleasure in the foul art of warfare. During an ambush one could visualize the enemy's approach. See the canny noncom in charge of the attacking squad pause to study the terrain ahead. But you had been so clever—and this was the greatest thrill—covering all traces of the ambush that it was as if you were a trickster ghost. And a small fire of delight would bloom in your bosom as the noncom decided to ignore the prickling hackles at the back of his neck and advance to his doom.
But there was no pleasure of any kind standing idly by while someone else went about a possibly dangerous errand. Especially since Palimak—in Leiria's professional opinion—had been a bit too quick handing out orders. He'd merely said that she and the other members of the party must wait while he explored the tunnel. No arrangements had been made for emergencies. And in Leiria's mind, Palimak's delayed return certainly fitted the definition of an emergency.
That was the trouble with having such a youthful commander. Usually Palimak listened to her soldierly advice. Also Coralean's, when it came to matters of money or diplomacy. And Biner's, when the mission involved an aerial expedition.
However, this admirable trait tended to be tossed right into the slop hole when he was confronted with a threat that required his magical powers—which was Palimak's own area of expertise. It was then that the arrogance of youth overtook native caution and he tended to rush into the sorcerous breach without further thought.
Leiria moved swiftly along the tunnel, the flickering torchlight picking up signs of Palimak's passage: boot depressions in the salty silt on the floor, or the glitter of wet marks on the wall where he'd leaned.
Otherwise, she saw nothing except the occasional lone rat that panicked at their approach and dashed through their legs. About half an hour earlier a thick swarm of rats had descended on them—frightened, Leiria guessed, because they'd been cornered by Palimak and had no other way to flee.
Leiria was not a squeamish wo
man, but being confronted by all those dirty, squealing little beasts had unnerved her. She had taken no satisfaction from the near-hysterical curses of Biner and the others as they had fought off the wave of rodent intruders. When it was over, she'd felt humiliated by her own instinctive reactions. Perhaps this had been the main reason she'd finally decided to wait no longer and investigate what had happened to Palimak.
They splashed onward through the cold passage for many minutes, pausing only to recharge the pitch on their torches from the wide-mouthed jars of the stuff they'd packed along for that purpose.
Then they came around a corner and were brought up short by a thick stone wall that blocked all other progress.
"What's this?” Biner barked.
He looked back along the passage, searching for other openings, even though he knew very well there were none.
"Where in the hells did he go?” he wondered.
Leiria ignored the question, scanning the wall, looking for a break.
Nothing.
Then she spotted the twin-headed snake symbol carved on the wall. It glowed in the light when she held the torch close. Leiria put an ear against the stone, listening.
Immediately, she heard someone cry out in alarm “It's Palimak!” she shouted at the others. “He's in there!"
She threw herself against the wall. She rebounded, cursing in frustration, shoulder numb where she'd struck the stone. Even so, she prepared to hurl herself against it again.
But Biner stepped in front of her. He swung the club against the wall with all his strength. There was a loud crack! as a piece of rock broke off.
He swung again.
And again...
* * * *
The Asper snake came alive, leaping off the face of the coffin, twin jaws hissing, long fangs lancing out for the strike.
Palimak jumped back, shouting and scrabbling for his sword. But he caught a bootheel on one of the steps and tumbled awkwardly to the ground.
Still, he managed to roll to one side, drawing back his sword to strike.
"Don't, Little Master, don't!” Gundara cried.
