He faced her across the triangle, the shadows of the candlelight masking his features as his dark eyes reflected their glow. “I caught the horses,” he reported stonily, as if by assuming a formal attitude he could ignore the trappings of Onokratos's sanctum sanctorum. She knew how the elements of conjuration frightened him and all Korkyrans. Their belief in an indifferent One God was as much an insulation against the unsettling realities of a magical universe as it was a true conviction of faith.
He mastered his fear magnificently. “But not that big black of yours,” he continued. “He's out there, though, strutting as though he ruled the countryside."
Kimon interrupted. “It's bright and sunny outside,” he declared a trifle too cheerily, betraying his own unease. He, too, had been exposed to more than he could readily comprehend in the last few days. “Why not open the shutters and blow out these smoky candles. It smells like the whore-goddess's temple."
She felt pity for both men. “Hush, Kimon,” she ordered gently. The demon closed the door, then barred it with a silver bar. As he turned back, his eyes roamed over her again in that way that gave her gooseflesh. With all five of them present, the chamber felt as close as a tomb. She sucked her lower lip, hoping the analogy didn't prove prophetic.
“Samidar?"
She found both her comrades looking at her, seeking reassurance. They were out of place here, plainly uncomfortable. And suddenly, the atmosphere of the room overwhelmed her, too. The unreadable glyphs swam on the walls; the candles danced, dazzling her vision; smoke stung her eyes; she clenched her fists until her nails dug into her palms.
“So many times I've stood in places like this,” she muttered, “not rooms, but caves burrowed deep in the cliffs and mountains where one could listen and hear the dark things eating at the earth. I've commanded the winds, made the ground tremble, the sea rage, all at my whim. I've raised the lightning and worse.” She turned slowly, not seeing Onokratos's room, but stalactites and stalagmites burning with lichen sheen; seeing the sweaty, naked bodies of sister-witches cavorting around fires that seemed so tiny, insignificant, against the gloom of the earth's bowels; seeing her mother's face, encouraging her, instructing.
The room came back into focus. “And I turned my back on all of it.” She clapped her hands suddenly, a sharp crack that seemed out of place in the chamber's solemnity. “This is crazy. I'm getting out of here.” She headed for the door.
“Coward!” Onokratos accused. “You're afraid!"
“Yes, I'm afraid!” she hissed, whirling on him. “Any fool would be. First, you invoked the chaos god and damned an innocent child. Now, you would bargain with death's master!” She barked a harsh laugh. “Your plan is not insane! You are!"
Kimon's eyebrows shot up. “You speak of Orchos?"
Tras Sur'tian snapped, “There's no other but the One God."
Frost gave the Korkyran a hard look. “You speak out of habit or ignorance,” she informed him. She aimed a finger at Gel. “Look at the creature beside you. Is that a product of your One God?"
Onokratos planted himself between her and the door. “Do you fear for your own soul, woman? Do you value it more than Aki's?” He purpled with rage. “There are nine hells, paradise to perdition, according to your just due. You may aspire to any of them. But think of Aki cocooned in Gath's wretched web, dangling by a single glistening strand, feeding his vile lusts until she merges and becomes lost forever in the immoral vileness of chaos itself! Then think again of your cowardice!"
At mention of Aki, Tras gripped her shoulder. “What's this madman raving about?” he demanded.
“Nothing,” she answered icily. “The moon has eaten his brain."
Tras Sur'tian was not convinced. “You speak of my queen.” He addressed the wizard forthrightly. “You want to bargain?” He advanced toward Onokratos. “I know you've endangered her, damn your soul, but I'll do what I must to win her back."
Frost grabbed his arm. “Tras, shut up!"
He shook her off. “My life is dedicated to her; the duty is mine. You're nothing but a mercenary trying to earn your pay."
“You don't understand!"
“I'll do whatever I have to!"
“Let the fool!” Kimon spat, his eyes gleaming.
Her hand went for her sword, clasped the hilt ... and froze. She suddenly realized how deep a rift had split their fellowship. It seemed only yesterday they had shared food and sung songs as they'd traveled the road.
What was happening to them?
Onokratos's long, thin finger stabbed at her. “Only she can go,” he said. “No other."
Kimon took three quick strides, caught the wizard's wrist, and twisted, forcing the old man's back to the wall. “No, she goes nowhere for you! Send the Korkyran or that black beast of yours getting ready to pounce on me.” Frost marveled at that. Kimon wasn't in a position to see the demon; he must have sensed Gel's movement. “Better yet,” he continued, “go yourself, and take them both for company."
Neither Kimon nor Tras understood. “He intends a quest to hell itself!” she snapped.
Kimon released Onokratos and stepped back. “Then I'll stand by my last suggestion."
“Why not send the demon?” she said to Onokratos. “Let him bear your messages. Hell is his homeland, after all.” That seemed reasonable, and it wouldn't require the use of Demonfang. In fact, why hadn't Onokratos thought of that first?
“Gel stays. That is not debatable.” Onokratos glanced quickly at the demon. Frost thought he made some silent assurance, just a blink, a subtle nod. He looked back at her and went on. “You have the best chance for success. I can't go myself; I must remain here to command Gel, who is crucial to the plan.” He turned a contemptuous gaze on Kimon and Tras. “These two are inexperienced for such an arcane journey. And you're more clever than they. That may count for something."
She locked eyes with the wizard and surprised herself to find she was weighing possibilities.
“Samidar?"
She shut Kimon out.
“I can do it,” she heard Tras Sur'tian say. Her old friend would grasp any straw, even sacrifice himself to save Aki. He had pledged his life, he said. If she didn't go, he would.
“All right."
A look of pain flashed over Kimon's features. “Samidar, don't."
She reached out to reassure him with a touch, then snatched her hand back. Could he really try one day to kill her for money and fall in love with her the next? The pleading in his eyes seemed real. She could sense his longing. Fair or false, how could she judge?
Now was not the time to ponder it. She had no choice but to accept this task Onokratos set for her. She had sworn to find Aki, to rescue or avenge her. So far, she had only found the child's husk. That was not enough. Later, she would resolve matters with Kimon.
She faced Onokratos. “What must I do?"
The wizard straightened his robes. “It shouldn't be complicated,” he said. “Gel expects the sending to be easy."
“The sending,” she repeated. “What about the return?"
Onokratos drew a handful of powder from a hidden pocket, tossed it on each of the braziers. Malodorous clouds roiled up, filling the chamber with a new, heavy smell. “That's why your friends are present. The strength of our combined wills, intensified by their affections for you, should be enough to guide you back."
“Are you certain?” Kimon demanded, his brow deeply wrinkled.
“This is wizardry,” came the answer. “We deal with gods and demons; nothing can be certain."
Kimon's eyes blazed. He touched his sword's hilt and leaned close to Onokratos. “If she doesn't come back,” he said, “I'll send you to join her."
The threat hung in the air, and no one spoke. Onokratos cleared his throat, finally, and pointed to Tras Sur'tian. “You stand at the southeast corner of the triangle; do not disturb the silver dust.” To Kimon he assigned the northeast corner with the same admonishment. He took up position at the western corner. To Frost, he said, �
��Now you, in the circle at the center. That's right, you know how this goes."
“What of Gel? You said he was crucial."
“He'll be right behind you inside the triangle, but outside your circle.” He drew his foot along one axis, causing a gap in the silver dust barrier, allowing the demon to pass within. Then he sealed the triangle again with more shimmering dust from a pouch in another pocket.
The old man stood up. “A small demonstration,” he announced softly. “Gel, strangle the Korkyran."
The demon attacked. Tras Sur'tian leaped away, grabbing for his weapon, but long before those great, sinewy arms reached him, Gel roared in pain. Sparks flashed where his fists smashed against some invisible barrier. Obedient to the wizard's command, he reached again for the soldier captain's throat. His black face contorted with agony. Scintillant blue fire, appearing magically from the air, raced crackling up his arms.
“Enough, faithful servant.” Onokratos clapped his hands, and the demon was calm once more. Tras Sur'tian glared darkly, barely controlling his rage.
Onokratos wagged a finger. “Don't be so touchy!” he chided. “I knew he couldn't harm you. I wanted you to see that nothing that is not human can escape the triangle while the silver lines remain intact.” He looked to Frost. She shrugged, stepped out of her circle, walked between Tras and Kimon, then returned to her assigned place. Onokratos continued, “You must understand that as long as you do what I say, you'll be safe. No matter what transpires inside the triangle. No matter what you see. But if you disturb the silver dust and break the seal...” He drew a thumb across his throat, made a face. “Ugly, very ugly."
“Let's get on with it,” Frost insisted. “They'll do their part."
Onokratos harrumphed. “You must be just as careful,” he warned. “Even though you're inside it, if you misstep or thrash around, you could break the binding."
She waved a hand. “I know all this,” she reminded him. “Now, the longer I stand here, the more convinced I become that this is the most stupid—"
Onokratos folded his hands into his sleeves again. “Then we won't delay longer.” He spoke to Gel in a language she didn't understand, then asked him, “Ready?"
Gel nodded.
The wizard closed his eyes, said to Frost, “Draw the dagger."
“What?” Kimon and Tras Sur'tian shouted simultaneously and started for her.
“Stop!” Her voice was a thunderclap that echoed loudly in the sanctum. She fixed them with her gaze. “Don't interfere. Just do exactly what he tells you.” She glared at Tras. “You want to save Aki? Then obey him.” She shifted her attention to Kimon. “If you value my life, obey. Nothing else."
Both men looked properly chastened. She called over her shoulder to Onokratos, “Let's get on with it."
The demon's hand touched the nape of her neck. His taloned fingers made brief, gentle, massaging strokes. He bent close and whispered so only she could hear, “Thee has my admiration, woman."
“I could care less,” she answered, not bothering to pitch her voice low. Sweat beaded in her palms as the worms of doubt and fear ate away her resolve. “It's your insanity that's made this necessary."
“Not mine,” whispered the demon. “I am but a tool for Onokratos to use.” He took his hand away. “But it is necessary if thee wishes to save the children. I see no other course."
Nor did she, and that embittered her. She could taste her own anger like a black, choking bile. The demon claimed he was a tool, but he was not the only one. Onokratos was using them all, using them to save his Kalynda. She gripped the hilt of her sword and swore. However this adventure turned out, she would make him pay. If she had to come back from hell, back from the very pit of darkness, she would make him pay.
Her grip shifted to Demonfang. She heard the breathing of her comrades, saw Tras Sur'tian's eyes widen ever so slightly. They knew the dagger's power and feared it. She shared that fear. But there was no turning back. She gritted her teeth and jerked the blade free.
Shrieking filled the chamber, long, horrible screams that froze the blood in her veins, made her skin crawl. Never had the sound seemed so shrill, so chilling. Demonfang shivered in her grasp, demanding its due.
“The point!” she heard the wizard call, his words barely distinguishable over the din. “Turn it toward you! Look at it!"
A new sound rose faintly amid the screaming, and she realized it was herself, whimpering and moaning like a frightened child. She bit hard on her lip to stop it, and the salty warm taste of blood filled her mouth. Slowly she rotated the dagger, holding it at arm's length. The point glittered wickedly in the candlelight.
The dagger writhed. Its screeching rang louder, more intense. She'd never felt its power so strong before! Something flowed into her mind, dominating her will.
Blood! It senses my blood! She licked the crimson trickle that ran down her lip.
A red glaze descended over her vision. Through it, she saw a bearded, aging soldier. His chest offered an inviting target. Dimly, she realized that she was moving, turning, for next she looked on the wizard, the cause of all her troubles. Then the demon; his inhuman blood would make a feast for Demonfang. Finally, she faced Kimon, the insolent whelp who'd come like a shadow in the night to kill her.
So much blood! So much blood to quench the dagger's thirst!
Demonfang twisted in her hand, rose high to strike. She no longer controlled her movements, but part of her mind knew what must happen. With the last of her fading will, she cried out, barely aware of her streaming tears, “Onokratos!"
The wizard's voice exploded over the dagger's screaming: one word, the demon's name.
A new power surged through her. She could see energy, like a nimbus of scarlet radiance rushing around her, freeing her from Demonfang's entrancement. Her will was her own again. The shrieking diminished, faded, unsatisfied. The room was silent except for the raspy breathing of her uneasy friends and the pulsing blood that roared in her ears.
She turned to face Onokratos. It gratified her to find him pale and sweating as much as she. He swallowed hard. “Gel has control of it,” he announced. She smiled at the trepidation in his voice. “Now, gaze at the point. Turn it toward you."
She turned it toward him, and her smile broadened. But Gel was there between them.
She recalled the first time the demon had stilled her unholy weapon. The effort had taken a toll on him. How long could he hold out this time before the dagger's power reasserted itself?
A thousand doubts and fears tormented her. All too late. There was nothing but to go on. The dagger was drawn. It must be used. It turned, this time at her willing. Firelight danced along its keen edge.
“Gel will release the blade's power very gradually until an equilibrium is struck between its magic and his.” Onokratos spoke rapidly. A sign of his own fear? Or his own doubt in the demon's ability? “You'll hear the screaming again, the dagger demanding blood. But Gel won't let you strike. It should happen then."
“What should happen?” Kimon questioned.
“Your presence is all that's needed,” the wizard chided harshly. “That, and your silence."
The first scream, faint and far-sounding, touched her ears. She shivered, or was it the slightest tingle from Demonfang? The scream sounded again, not one but many voices, the cries of souls in torment. Yes, it was Demonfang that trembled in her hand. She felt it slowly trying to bend her will. Suddenly the shrieking swelled louder than she had ever heard it; a scarlet haze blocked her sight, and she feared Gel had failed completely. Black thoughts crept to the fore of her mind, and she considered again the dagger's potential victims.
But she did not strike. The point remained hovering before her eyes. It swayed rhythmically, a steel serpent mesmerizing its prey. It commanded, begged for satiation, but was denied.
She felt caught in a vise: ordered to kill, but unable to obey. She cried out. It was tearing her apart. Pain racked every part of her. Tears scalded her cheeks, ran in rivulets down her
face and throat.
Then, the pain ended.
She stared at her own body. Her face was still contorted with the agony of soul separation. Her knuckles were white and bloodless from clutching Demonfang. Veins and muscles showed livid beneath her straining, sweat-drenched flesh.
She studied her new body, identical to her mortal casement, but surrounded by a silvery glow. A slender thread of purest light stretched from her new navel to her old one, linking body and soul.
She had experienced this marvel once before. She had achieved astral form and was ready for travel where human flesh could never go.
She looked at the dagger's point, sensing something there. A tiny ebon gleam rippled, caused by no earthly light. It grew as she watched, became an oval of shining darkness. From that darkness came the screaming.
This was the gate Onokratos had hoped for and she had dreaded. The screams were the tortured souls of the damned calling to her. Beyond, Orchos waited. She could feel his presence in the dark.
She knew the gate would close when Gel's strength began to wane. She turned to her friends to bid them a silent farewell. They did not move. Some spell held them suspended in time.
There was no time to waste.
She leaped into the void.
Chapter Twelve
She flew through an infinite night, trailing the tenuous silvery band, the lifeline to her mortal body. Its elasticity seemed as limitless as the darkness. She flew aimlessly, without reference points, guided by some preternatural instinct. Sometimes she felt a piercing cold; sometimes incredible heat seared her astral form. Neither radiated from an obvious source. Once, she thought she felt the leathery brush of unseen wings that paralleled her flight.
Most of all, she felt a growing loneliness. She would glance over her shoulder to reassure herself the soul-thread remained unsevered. She would strain for a glimpse of the dimly perceived portal through which she'd come. Then, she saw him waiting. Enormous beyond imagining, his eyes shone like furious emeralds in a dispassionate face. His hand reached out to enclose her. She swerved, but the hand was there, fingers opening, engulfing her in a mighty fist.
Skull Gate Page 18
