by Allan Cole
It was his experience that good fortune usually tended to favor the hunter rather than the hunted.
Clayre, however, had other ideas. Such as creating a delay through sorcery, rather than trusting to chance. Even with the newly-won magical powers that Kalasariz now possessed—thanks to the meal he'd made out of Fari and Luka—he didn't see how it could be done.
The distance was too great, he reasoned. Plus, they didn't know the exact position of the Nepenthe.
The beautiful Queen Witch solved that soon enough. First she dug out a roll of ancient parchment. It was a copy of Asper's hand-drawn map of the world, which the demon wizard had composed during his travels. She'd gotten it from Charize, the false guardian of Asper's tomb.
"I never thought I'd have any use for this,” she said. “However, there are some faint traces of magic in it left over from Asper. Enough to cure a wart, perhaps, but no more. Regardless, I make a habit of never throwing anything magical away, so I put it aside just in case."
She also had another surprise up her sleeve. “Bring me the gold Palimak Timura gave you,” she commanded her son.
This stung Rhodes’ most vulnerable part—his greedy heart.
"That gold is mine,” he said. “If you want to buy something, use your own funds. I give you a large enough allowance, the gods and my treasurer know. Besides, I earned that gold the hard way."
His face darkened at the memory of Palimak and Leiria standing before him, gloating at his defeat.
"It was the most humiliating thing that's ever happened in my life,” he said. “And there isn't gold enough in the world to make me forget it."
This, of course, was a gross exaggeration. Rhodes would do anything for money and power.
As witness his eager willingness to sacrifice his own daughter, Jooli.
However, Kalasariz quite understood his point. Although gold itself had never been that important to him—except for the power it contained—he was equally avaricious in other ways.
Kalasariz also knew what it was like to suffer humiliation at the hands of a Timura. He had several scores to settle with Safar on that account.
Even so, Kalasariz suspected there was more to Clayre's request than a need to buy magical supplies. She'd been quite specific, as a matter of fact. It was Palimak's gold she wanted. Not just a random purse of the stuff from the king's treasury.
He stirred in his nest, signaling Rhodes that he was about to communicate. When he had the king's attention, he said, I know she's a greedy bitch, Majesty, but perhaps there's more to her request than meets the eye.
Rhodes’ frown deepened, but Kalasariz felt the king's nerve cords relax and knew he'd gotten through. But first Rhodes had to hear his mother out.
"Why do you always insist on arguing with me about ever little detail, son?” she said. “Your father was of the same quarrelsome nature and look what it got him."
"Dead,” Rhodes replied, a little nastily.
"That's right, dead,” Clayre agreed.
She sighed, thinking about her former husband. “I swear,” she continued, “no matter what I said, your father had an argument against it. Why, we could have been talking about a haunch of venison and if I said it was gamy, he'd claim it was sweet. And he never listened to me. Never! It was as if he had his ears plugged with wax every time I came into his presence."
Clayre smiled in gentle reflection. “But in the end, I certainly unstopped his ears, didn't I? Unfortunately, a corpse can't hear. Still, I made my point clear to his ghost."
Rhodes barely suppressed a shudder. Curious, Kalasariz tapped into his memories. He caught an image of Clayre pouring hot poisoned oil into the ears of her sleeping husband. Immediately, his admiration for Clayre increased.
A difficult woman she might be, but one couldn't deny she had a sense of humor.
Clayre gazed on her stubborn son. “So, I ask you again, my son,” she said, “to kindly bring me Palimak Timura's gold. Hmm?"
Rhodes bristled at the implied threat. “Or what?” he asked.
And Clayre replied, “Or I can't help you find the ship, that's all. What else did you think I meant?"
"Never mind,” Rhodes said. “I'll get the gold."
When he returned with the purse, Clayre dumped the gold out on her magical table. She sorted through the coins, eyes narrowed in concentration. Finally, she held one up.
"This will do,” she said. Then she dismissed the others with a wave. “You can have these back."
Puzzled, but relieved, Rhodes quickly scooped up the coins and returned them to the purse. One fell to the floor so he got down on his hands and knees and crawled about until he found it.
Kalasariz was irritated to the extreme. This was not proper behavior for a king. But he said nothing. His object was to make Rhodes think of him as his dearest friend and he had to be careful not to appear judgmental. Ah, well, he thought. Living inside another person certainly had its burdens—even though the host did do all the physical work.
"Why did you choose just that one coin, mother?” Rhodes asked after he'd tucked the purse away.
"Because it carries the strongest scent,” she replied. “Apparently young Palimak held it more than the others. Perhaps he even bit the coin when he first received it to make sure it was pure gold. In any event, he's left very heavy traces of his aura behind for us to make use of."
Then, with no further explanation, she unrolled the parchment map and placed it across the golden tiles. Four stubby black candles were stuck at each corner to hold it down. The gold coin went in the center.
"Now, help me with this,” she said.
Rhodes obediently approached the table. While she concentrated, Kalasariz stoked up his own magical fires, lashing the imps that were Fari and Luka with red-hot whips until their sorcerous energies boiled over and flowed into his own.
This was Kalasariz’ favorite part of his new-found skills at performing the business of magic. The two demons were hateful creatures who had worked long and hard to bring him down. Their agonies gave him pleasure of such extremes that it bordered on the sexual. Which in his present form was the best he could do, since the only way he could enjoy the mating act these days was through Rhodes’ activities.
And the king was such a rutting brute, with no style at all, that his amorous exploits only whetted Kalasariz’ appetite.
As he focused his powers, adding them to Clayre's considerable strength, he saw the coin begin to move. The movement was hesitant at first—a barely perceptible tremble. Then it shifted left a few inches, then right, then to the center again.
Another trembling hesitation, then it shot below the center point and came to rest.
Clayre waved a hand at the coin and it slowly transformed in shape, size and color until it became an exact duplicate of the Nepenthe, sails billowing in a spirit-world wind.
Then she broke the sorcerous connection and Kalasariz relaxed.
Rhodes leaned over the table to get a closer look, and through the king's eyes Kalasariz could see that the ship sat a little south of a large land mass, with small tree-like squiggles inked in.
"They're just off Aroborus,” Clayre said. “The land of the forests."
"Now that we know where they are,” Rhodes asked, “how do we delay them?"
"Never fear, my son,” Clayre said with supreme confidence. “I'll think of something."
* * * *
Kalasariz gazed fondly at the tiny figures of the tree beasts as they ravaged the Kyranian forces, driving them across the deck of the Nepenthe.
Clayre had been as good as her word and then some. Drawing on the Land of the Forests for inspiration, she'd created a unique and cunning enemy to delay and perhaps even destroy Safar Timura and his allies.
Kalasariz noted that Leiria was still down, barely holding off one creature, while Safar—seated on his white stallion—fought desperately but futilely to reach her.
Suddenly, he saw Jooli burst onto the scene, armed with a spear. She set the butt on
to the deck and vaulted over several beasts to land at Leiria's side.
Then she jabbed at the beast that was attacking the Kyranian warrior, driving it back long enough for Leiria to come up and hack it down with her blade.
"You have to admit,” Rhodes rumbled in fatherly admiration, “that my daughter is one hells of a soldier. Too bad the bitch whelp turned traitor and joined the other side."
But Clayre did not share his pride, grudging though it might have been. She became furious at the sight of her granddaughter.
"I'll fix her,” she snarled.
She drew a long, sharp pin from her hair and rubbed it vigorously on the sleeve of her silken witch's gown. Kalasariz could feel the energy growing until magical sparks shot off.
Then Clayre jabbed the pin down at the tiny figure of Jooli.
But as the needle point descended, Kalasariz, whose attention had been fixed on his old enemy, saw Safar sheathe his sword. He pulled an object from his cloak that the spymaster couldn't quite make out.
When he raised it to his lips, however, Kalasariz realized it was some sort of horn.
And just as Clayre thrust the needle at Jooli, Safar blew through the horn. The sound blasted through Clayre's cabin as if it were made by some gigantic trumpet.
The Queen Witch gasped in shock as she saw two strange apparitions rise up through the golden tiles. The figures were vaguely familiar, but she didn't have time to think where she'd seen them before.
Then something was lofted up at her.
Instinctively, she ducked.
And then a great white light flared, blinding everyone in the cabin.
A moment later, when their vision cleared, the living seascape had vanished.
Only a dark smudge on the golden tiles remained to mark the spot where the battle for the Nepenthe had raged.
Rhodes whirled to face the witch. His features were swollen and red with anger. He'd seen exactly who those two magical creatures were.
"Dammit, mother,” he roared. “I told you so! Maybe it's about time you started listening to me!"
Clayre was astounded. “Why, whatever are you talking about, son?” she asked.
"The mural, mother!” he snarled. “You said not to worry about it. But by the gods who torment us, it's come back to haunt us again!"
CHAPTER THIRTY
IN THE DARK SEAS
When Safar realized Leiria was gone it was as if his heart had been pierced by an arrow. One of the enormous creatures loomed up, deadly branches slashing in to take him. But he didn't care. In that terrible moment of agony only Leiria mattered.
It was Khysmet who saved him, wheeling about and kicking through all those chattering teeth and thorny tongues to knock the tree beast away.
Coming out of his shock, Safar saw Leiria lying on the deck, desperately cutting and jabbing at the huge creature towering over her. One blood-smeared leg was caught in a slender, snake-like branch and she was being drawn slowly toward the beast's twisted trunk.
Safar kicked Khysmet and they charged forward, only to be hurled back by three other creatures who moved in to block the way.
Hard as he and Khysmet fought, they kept losing ground to the living wall of pain.
Then he saw Jooli vault to Leiria's rescue. As she jabbed at the tree beast with her spear, Leiria slashed away the branch gripping her leg and then the two women joined together to drive the creature off.
It was then that a strange sensation came over him. To Safar it seemed as if he split in two and another part of him—a spirit self—was standing off at a great distance watching the progress of the battle. He could even see himself, astride Khysmet, fighting along with the others.
Although the view was godlike, his emotions were intensely human—frightened that all his friends would soon die unspeakably horrible deaths.
Then his spirit self heard a voice whisper, Safar, Safar.
It came from quite close—just at his ear. He even imagined he could feel warm breath stir his hair.
And then the voice came again, whispering, Look to the heavens, brother!
He looked up and saw nothing but the night sky. A cloud bank partly obscured the Demon Moon, dimming its red light. Surrounding it were only the stars—cold and pitiless as always.
Then he noticed a faint golden shimmer beyond the night. As if the darkness was a thin black veil drawn over a sheen of some ethereal surface.
Reflected in that sheen was the dim outline of two enormous faces. He couldn't make out who they were, only that they were watching.
And then there was motion. A disturbance. First it pierced the golden surface. Then the black veil that was the night.
A long, slender needle of flame pushed through and descended toward the Nepenthe. His eyes followed its course, the needle growing thinner, sharper, hotter.
And then, with a jolt, he realized it was aimed directly at Jooli!
Suddenly, his spirit self vanished and he was back in the midst of the battle. Slashing and cutting as the three creatures closed in on him and Khysmet.
But now he knew why he was losing this battle.
Fighting all natural instinct, he ignored the long tendrils of death reaching for him and sheathed his sword.
With forced calm he drew out Asper's shell trumpet. And lifted it to his lips and blew.
The sound was world-shattering. As if a thousand war trumpets—set close by—blared all at once. Everyone on the ship—including the creatures—froze, as if they'd been suddenly turned to stone.
Floating high above the Nepenthe he saw the mural of the Spirit Rider. It was hazy, ghost-like and of enormous size. Then he saw the beautiful Princess Alsahna and her black mare come alive.
The Princess shouted, “For Safar!” and horse and rider soared out of the mural into the night sky. They charged, up and up—Alsahna pulling a javelin from a loop on her saddle.
And then, just before they reached the golden shimmer, the Princess hurled it at the Watchers.
An intense white light flared, then was gone. Taking with it the faces of the Watchers, the shimmering gold surface and the ghostly mural.
Now there were only the cold stars and the grinning Demon Moon to observe what followed.
Immediately, Safar sensed a subtle shift in the atmosphere. And then a settling. It was as if the very particles that made up the air had rearranged themselves into a more normal pattern.
But he could still hear the sounds of battle and human cries of pain and defiance all around him.
A long, thick branch filled with chattering teeth reached for him. Safar roared in a fury and slashed it away. Then he kicked Khysmet forward, cutting at the beast's trunk with his sword.
But this time, when the blade bit the creature screamed and died!
All over the ship the besieged humans experienced similar results.
Biner, spattered with blood from dozens of cuts, swung his great club, bursting a tree-beast in two. He shouted in glee as it writhed in agony, then grew still.
Arlain hissed a long tongue of fire at one of the creatures. To her delight it burst into flames, then toppled over the rail into the sea.
Kairo the acrobat clung to a boarding rope and swung along the deck, slashing at the creatures with a sword. Amazed that this time they remained where they fell and didn't get up again.
Renor and Sinch netted their attacker, then slung it over the side.
Leiria and Jooli had found ropes. Together they lassoed one of the creatures, toppling it. Then, with sword and spear, they slew it where it fell.
But even without the magical assistance of Clayre and Kalasariz, the beasts were not easily defeated. It took an hour of furious fighting and many tricks before the humans had killed them all and hurled them into the sea.
As Leiria and Jooli dealt with the last one, Safar and Khysmet thundered up to them.
Safar shouted, “Have you seen Palimak?"
Leiria's heart jumped as his question sunk in like a wide-bladed spear. Dismayed, she shook
her head: no.
Safar leaped off Khysmet and raced toward the stairwell leading down to Palimak's cabin, Leiria and Jooli at his heels.
He didn't bother with the stairs, but jumped ten feet to the passageway below. Immediately he saw a large, ragged hole where the door to Palimak's cabin had been. He also heard movement—a dry scraping sound—and knew another of the tree-creatures lurked inside.
Leiria and Jooli had joined him by now and he signaled silence. Then the three of them crept down the passageway, weapons ready.
When he reached the cabin he peered inside. Lying in the wreckage of the room was one of the beasts. Many of its branches had been ripped away and its trunk had enormous chunks torn from it. The creature was weak and dying.
Heart racing, Safar looked about the cabin and saw no sign of Palimak. He sagged against the broken doorway, overcome by grief.
It was Jooli who finally killed the beast, running it through with her spear. Leiria called for help and several crewmen came to drag the thing away and dispose of it.
By the time it was gone, Safar had recovered some of his sensibilities. And with them came hope.
"Palimak wouldn't die so easily,” he said.
"Of course not,” Leiria agreed, soothing herself as much as Safar. “Perhaps he managed to get out of the cabin."
Safar winced and shook his head. “I heard one of the crewmen say that no one has seen him since he went to bed."
He studied the cabin, looking for some sign. At first all he could see was the broken debris—smashed furniture, shattered bunk, scarred walls and deck. Then he spotted something peeping out from under a ruined plank.
Safar lifted the plank away, revealing a strange little object in the shape of a man. He squatted down to examine it more closely.
"It's been molded from dough or something,” he said to Leiria, who was looking over his shoulder. He touched it. “It's still wet,” he said.
There was an impression in the belly of the dough man where a navel might be. There was slight movement in the depression so Safar gently pulled the dough away from the edges. To his surprise he found what appeared to be part of a still-living worm. At the same time his magical senses caught a faint spark of sorcery.
