“Agreed,” Dacaro said. “Oh my horse must go along.
Can you manage that?”
“If you speak the truth about our men, I can,” the captain responded. “The way you tell it, we won’t have nearly so many goin’ back.”
A day before Joe and the remaining Company reached Kidim by the lower road, Vercertorix returned but the rider was not Algongua.
“Poquah!” Joe shouted. “Are we glad to see you! The impassive Imir looked his usual grim self.
“Had we time, it should have been and would have been the Master himself. But there is a great battle shaping up, perhaps only days away, possibly only hours. If he were here tracking down the traitor, he would get satisfaction, and probably the Lamp, but it might cost the war.”
“You’ll do,” Joe told him. “Where do we start?”
“First I’m sending Vercertorix back to Dr. Algongua, who is still at Terindell,” the Imir said. “Although I have never heard of a dragon of Husaquahr taking part in the wars of men and fairy folk before, this one seems most eager, and we are happy to get him. Then we four will go into Kidim. It is certain that our man stopped there, although probably in good disguise.
I think I can penetrate it, even if he has already flown.”
Their return to the town was hardly welcome news to the townspeople, but was final confirmation to the soldiers, too, that what Dacaro had told their captain had been correct. They were too far from their forces to cause trouble in Kidim now, though, and so they made preparations to leave and return.
They, too, had gotten word of an impending battle.
Joe, Grogha, and Houma let the Imir do all the detective work. It was magic they needed to penetrate, and magic was Poquah’s game. It didn’t take him long, either. They were never certain of his methods, but he was most thorough and positive.
“Dacaro is here, and he and the horse are on one of the transports in the lake below,” Poquah told them.
Joe jumped up and grabbed his sword hilt. “Well, let’s get down and find him then!”
Poquah sighed. “Your heart and spirit are commendable, but your common sense is addled. There are still seventy of the enemy against us four. Dacaro, being of mortal stock, also has the edge in any magical confrontation with me, our relative powers being equal. And he has the Lamp, against which even the Master might have problems if the wish were suitably nasty and well phrased, as it would be. I know this Dacaro. He is a terribly dangerous man, all the more so for being sincere. He believes the modernization of Husaquahr is a cause, a way to lift the people into a better life. As a result, he sees himself as the good side in this contest and is willing to go to any lengths to achieve his goal. In this he is much like the Baron, who is also self deluded yet quite sincere.”
“I like things simple. You’re complicatin’ everything up too much,” Houma grumbled. “The bastard’s an evil traitor. If I get the chance, I’m gonna cut his throat.”
“Me, too,” Grogha added.
The Imir shrugged. “Have it your own way. I agree he must die. But don’t confuse what I say with what must be done. He is evil, and he flees to an evil master, but no evil leader ever thinks he is evil. The subtleness of Hell in this world or any other is that it is always built on good intentions. That is why it is so pervasive.”
Joe understood him, but the other two remained unconvinced. “Still,” the big man asked, “if we can’t go after him now, what can we do?”
“We must take him when he is least prepared,” the Imir responded. “Therefore, we must first find out on what boat he sails, and follow that boat and its occupants. If we have no opportunity before to get at him, we must continue to follow him all the way to the Dark Baron himself, if need be.” He looked at Houma and Grogha. “But not all of us. The two of you with Posti should join our forces. This is not a job for all of us our chance of discovery and betrayal is too great.”
Both men protested vigorously, but Poquah was adamant, and they accepted his decision with a lot of grumbling. The Company had been dissolved. Now Joe and Poquah must go with the enemy to catch a powerful fish.
Chapter XVI
The Dark Baron
Those aligned with evil may cheat, but must always leave an opening, however tenuous, for the virtuous.
- II
Poquah’s magic made the solution to their problem Obvious. Knowing that a force of this size probably would have been put together only for this mission, and thus not everybody would know everybody, the Imir cast a spell on both him and Joe so that they appeared to be common soldiers to everyone who looked at them. And, with that, they simply joined formation and marched onto one of the boats when the main force was withdrawn.
It was not the boat with Dacaro aboard, but Poquah was relieved at that. “These disguises are more than sufficient for man or fairy,” he told Joe, “but a good adept would see through them in an instant. Best we do not get too close to him until we are ready to strike.”
“It’s lucky that most folks aren’t magical, or I’d feel downright uncomfortable,” Joe noted.
“You would feel more than that, my otherworldly friend,” the Imir responded. “This place would be an insane asylum.
It almost is now.”
They sailed down the Sik and joined the River of the Sad Virgin, still pretty much in neutral territory. But the four boats pulled in before they reached the Dancing Gods, and crews busily changed the appearance of two, adding camouflaging, redistributing and adding masts, and repainting. It was clear that the boats were designed and the crews were trained for this sort of thing. By the end of the day, they looked like two merchant freighters, exactly what they should be in this kind of commerce, and flew the Kidina flag and sail markings.
Neutral merchants.
The soldiers, too, changed their uniforms for civilian clothes, those of merchants, sailors, and the like, causing Poquah to have to alter his spells as well. Particularly interesting was the fact that the soldiers’ beards were shaved and their hair trimmed short. Now they hardly matched any description of the soldiers seen at Kidim.
Poquah had used his powers of persuasion to find out as much information as was known. Of the four boats, they were on the third in the convoy, while he was quite certain from the crew’s comments that Dacaro was on the boat directly in front of them. Joe, in fact, was certain that he spotted the black stallion with the others in the rear tethering area. But their boat was not one of the ones changed.
Four boats had left, but now crews and passengers consolidated into the two that looked like Kidim’s. With over a hundred and fifty of the company missing, it was no real crowd and it made their progress down the river less conspicuous. The other two, including the one they’d been on, were scuttled.
Now they found themselves on the suspect boat and had to be careful. It took Poquah no time at all to establish that there was, indeed, a very special passenger none had seen, staying in the captain’s cabin. It was all very mysterious, but the troops were good soldiers who asked few questions and started lots of wild rumors.
“Maybe we’ll get lucky,” Joe said hopefully to the Imir. “I mean, maybe we’ll get overhauled and taken.”
“I doubt it. First of all, our side has a weak navy with little experience. I suspect these two crews are more than a match for any on the other side. But in any event, I hope not. That would simply force him in to the open, and he still has his wish. That’s his insurance policy in case the Baron proves less than accommodating.”
“But Ruddygore said either he or the Baron could probably negate the Lamp,” Joe pointed out. “Some insurance.”
“That’s true if it is used against them,” the Imir agreed.
“But it need not be so. It can be used to elevate Dacaro’s status.”
“I just wish there was some way to get to him.”
“He never leaves the cabin. His meals are brought in. Yesterday I volunteered for galley duty, with the thought of poisoning the food he eats.”
> “And?”
“I succeeded. But there is no report of any problems, so he apparently has a routine cleansing spell in use, as I feared. So far he has made no mistakes. The spells on the cabin are so strong he would have a lot of warning, even if a member of the Council went to work on them, and I am far lower than that. We will have to wait. Sometime, somewhere, he must make a mistake.”
Joe understood mat this was more a hope than a certainty.
Where was his great luck now, all of a sudden? So far it had saved his neck, but had mostly aided the wrong side.
It was another three days of hazardous travel downriver once they reached the Dancing Gods. Below the Sad Virgin, the river meandered all over the place and had countless bars, eddies, and islands. It took a tremendous amount of skill, experience, and flawless navigation to get through the extremely long stretch, and Joe’s admiration for the crew transcended his loyalties.
Now they passed the Dabasar, and the River of Dancing Gods was more than three miles wide and tremendously deep but, if anything, even more treacherous, since they were now within the flood plain, and the annual great flooding always changed the river’s course and nature.
Poquah was a little concerned in the later stretches. They were deep within the enemy’s area of control, and he was afraid that, on horse detail, he had been penetrated by the equine Sugasto. He did not tell Joe, who was worried enough, and hoped that, if true, the ancient adept either would think nothing of someone with a disguise spell or would keep quiet. Sugasto had no love for Dacaro, certainly, and although he was bound to do his bidding, there was no need to volunteer information.
Before nightfall they made their landing. Joe and Poquah were both relieved at least now their quarry would have to reveal himself.
Their patience did not go unrewarded. Late in the evening, the captain came on deck, followed by a mysterious looking stranger in dark clothing. He didn’t look quite like Sugasto, whose body Dacaro wore, but Poquah was no more easily fooled than Dacaro would have been in spotting him. He did not allow that spotting to occur, though, and Dacaro certainly had no reason to be suspicious of enemies from Ruddygore at this stage. The adept would be much more concerned with treachery by the Dark Baron and his men.
Joe and Poquah ducked out of sight as the two men walked back, selected their horses, then led them off the gangplank to shore.
“If they’re going far, we’ll have to steal some horses,” Joe noted. “And it’s gonna be hard not to get pressed into duty around here.”
“Has my magic failed you yet?” the Imir asked him, and together they slipped off the boat.
The two men made no move to mount their horses, but continued to follow a road from the river landing for a few hundred yards, leading their mounts. Soon they were in the midst of a huge tent city, flags of many nations and peoples flying before them, and a lot of hectic activity that actually helped conceal the pursuers’ true nature.
The captain and the dark stranger reached one particular tent, not very distinguishable from the others but flying no flag, and tethered their horses in front. The captain walked over to the guard at the entrance and whispered a few words. The guard nodded, and the two men entered the tent.
“The captain has already sent runners on ahead,” Poquah told Joe. “It is certain that they wait here for the Baron himself, when he can spare the time from battle preparation. I think we must move before the Baron gets here or we will be totally outgunned.”
They turned off the main path to the tent and walked casually around in back, making their way closer and closer by a circuitous route. So far, nobody had paid them the slightest attention, and they were able to reach the rear of the tent they sought without problems. They bent down to see if they could perhaps get a piece of tent up and crawl under, but as they did so, something fell on both their heads and they went out like a light.
They came to in the tent. Both Joe and Poquah had been stripped naked, and hung from a support beam by thick ropes tied to their wrists.
In the center of the tent was a plain oak table and a few chairs. The captain from the boat stood near the doorway opposite them, putting down a large bundle of stuff on the tent floor Joe saw that it was their clothing and swords, Irving included.
The other man, whom they now recognized as Sugastoat least in body looked at them and smiled. The precious Lamp of Lakash hung on his belt.
“I see you’re awake,” Dacaro said cheerfully. “You went to so much trouble that I thought you should not be denied meeting the Dark Baron. And you, Imir you’ll find your magic nullified quite handily. I’ve learned a few new tricks since we studied together at Terindell.”
The Imir’s face contorted with rage and contempt, the first display of pure emotion Joe had ever seen on the creature, and he spat in Dacaro’s direction. “You bastard! The Master was too kindhearted, but most certainly correct about you. You are unworthy to lick his shoes!”
Dacaro shrugged. “New ways are coming, Poquah. The best of the old with the new technology from the other world.
Neither you nor Ruddygore can cling to your power much longer and you know it. The new ways we will introduce will break your feudal hold on the oppressed people of this land.”
“And replace them with a newer and even more bitter oppression,” Poquah shot back.
“We’ll see. Or, at least, I’ll see. I doubt if you two will have to worry about things one way or the other. Oh, by the way I spotted you the first night you came aboard our boat.
Or, rather, Sugasto did. He doesn’t like me very much, for some reason, but he fears the wrath of Ruddygore far more.
That’s why he’s where he is and I am where I am. I am neither fearful or in awe of Ruddygore. He represents a dying and bankrupt way of life.”
At that moment there was a commotion outside, and into the tent burst an awesome figure. He was enormous, towering over the others but still below the suspended captives. He wore a full set of shiny black armor covering every part of his body, including gloves and a fighting helmet, ‘visor down, whose aspect was cast in the shape of a terrible demon. He had the kind of commanding presence that seemed inborn, that of regal bearing and total self confidence. Even masked and featureless, the Dark Baron captured everyone’s immediate attention. Dacaro seemed slightly awestruck by the presence, which was a far cry from the fat and slovenly Ruddygore.
The Baron wasted no time getting to the point. “You have the Lamp of Lakash,” he said to Dacaro in a deep, commanding voice that Joe couldn’t help comparing to one electronically disguised although that was obviously impossible. “I am here to receive it.”
Dacaro was certainly awestruck and totally aware that he was facing someone as far beyond him as Ruddygore was beyond Joe, but not so awestruck as to buckle under. The stakes were too high here. Instead, he unclasped the Lamp and held it in his right hand. “I have the Lamp, my lord, here. It is my intent to present it to you but I must have certain assurances of my own before I do.”
The Baron seemed slightly amused. “You propose to bargain with me? I do not drive bargains to receive what is mine by right. And, since you are here in my camp and in my presence, you are in a poor position to bargain.”
“I am Dacaro, formerly adept to Ruddygore,” he began, but the Baron cut him off.
“I know exactly who you are and what you are. I have no time to dawdle or dicker. The battle begins with the dawn and I must be there. You will hand me the Lamp now.”
Dacaro gave a slight smile. “I wish you would accept my terms and conditions for handing it over,” he said mildly.
The Baron started a bit. “So you have not yet used the Lamp. Very well what terms do you suggest?”
“I wish to have my training completed so that I may be elevated to full rank and initiated as a true sorcerer. Then I would aid you as, say, sorcerer to one of the armies, in the balance of the war. After we are victorious, I would like to be installed at Terindell.”
The Dark Baron chuckle
d. “Only that, huh? You wish to be elevated to the Council and replace Ruddygore. Well, my treacherous friend, we see no reason for trusting traitors. The man who would so willingly betray Ruddygore for such power has no honor, and without honor he would as lief betray any lord and all oaths of fealty and allegiance. I will take that Lamp now!”
The veneer of self confidence Dacaro had worn now crumbled in total confusion. “But but I wished! You can’t go against the wish!” He took a step backward and looked about nervously. “Slave of the Lamp! Attend me!”
Smoke poured out of the Lamp and congealed into the figure of Marge. Joe was struck by how much she’d changed, but he was too concerned with the drama being played out in front of him to think much about that right now.
Dacaro looked at Marge. “Why didn’t it give me my wish?” he demanded.
Marge seemed to take some satisfaction in her answer. “Because this is not the Dark Baron,” she told him, “but another in his armor. And the other within is not of this earth, nor of any earthly kingdom, and, as such, is not bound by the Lamp at all.”
The Baron’s hands went to the demonic helmet, unfastened it, and lifted it off, showing the head beneath. It was the same as the mask a terrible, demonic face, only not fashioned by craft of metal but in a blue black, leathery skin. “I am Hiccarph, Prince Regent of Hell,” the creature told him. “The Baron sends his regrets, but he has a war to fight.” And then the demon prince laughed.
Dacaro screamed. “No! No! I wish you back to Hell! Begone!”
“Free!” Marge, breathed and stepped back from the two now facing each other.
Dacaro gave a laugh. “You haven’t won me, Prince of Hell!
I go to the land of the djinn!” And, with that, he faded into smoke and poured back into the Lamp, which had dropped on the floor of the tent with his second wish.
The demon just stood there a minute, thinking. He moved, then, to get the Lamp and picked it up.
The River Of Dancing Gods Page 29
