Vengeance of the Dancing Gods

by Jack L. Chalker

  Joe's eyes opened, but they were vacant and staring.

  It was the same with Tura. No matter what, they could get no reactions out of them at all.

  "What's wrong with them?" Macore asked, irritably. "Did we blow something or what?"

  "I don't think so," Marge responded. "But, you see, I can feel and see emotions. They are tangible things to me. There's nothing there. No feeling at all."

  "Joe—sit up in bed!" Tiana commanded, and the big man did as instructed, staring vacantly ahead.

  "I was afraid of this," the big woman said hesitantly. "When I saw the reactions, I knew. We have been wasting our time, my friends. Now we know what the Master of the Dead took away in those two little potion bottles."

  "You mean—he took their essences? Their souls?" Marge breathed, shocked.

  Tiana nodded. "I fear so."

  "But—they were animated lovers, playful innocents today!"

  "It was the spell," Macore told her. "They were playful lovers, yes, but they were simpletons, too. It was a mask, an act, to deceive us while the Master made a clean getaway. So much for Ruddygore's plotting. All we've got here now are two animated corpses that will dance a jig if we tell 'em to but don't have a thought in their heads."

  Marge threw up her hands in disgust. "Oh, great! Now what do we do?"

  "We must track the bastard to his lair and reclaim them," Tiana said determinedly.

  "Oh, sure," Macore agreed sarcastically. "That should be a snap."

  Chapter 8

  Soul Survivors

  All castle and fortification wells in disuse for more than three centuries are declared as homes for monsters.

  —Rules, LXXI, 207(c)

  A DETAILED MAP OF THE REGION AROUND THE TOWN WAS spread out on the galley table as they gathered around to try and figure out where their quarry might be. Macore was certain that this Master of the Dead had to have a base not far from the town itself, because the wizard was able to take some time to research the innkeeper and his personal life in order to get a hold on him; also the Master might have determined where they would stay, but would have no way of knowing what day or week they would set off on their journey. He also obviously had to have access to the local graveyards in order to pull his animated corpse routine, assuming it was, indeed, no illusion.

  "I'd say south," Ely commented, looking at the map. "And certainly on this side of the river. North of here are some rolling hills and plains that are good farm country but not much on concealment. Old Harbottle has considerable power, and all the folks around here know and trust him, and he's seen no strangers with this kind of power. Now, look—about twenty miles south of here starts a swamp and marsh area that extends for the next sixty miles downriver and inland a good twenty-five."

  "The Holimau Swamp," Macore said. "Everybody in these parts is scared stiff of it."

  "Exactly," the captain agreed. "Makes it the perfect place to hide out if you've got real power and still want to be close enough to sneak into town, maybe transformed as a bird or animal as need be. I know the region pretty well. I have some relations from that part of the country."

  It was the first time Marge realized just what kind of place somebody who resembled a giant bipedal rat would find most comfortable.

  "Any ideas?" Tiana prompted him.

  "Well, there are a lot of old structures and ancient ruins in there, mostly reclaimed by the swamp, but I'd guess he's using one of them. He's human, I think, and likes his comforts. He could have ravens or some other birds as his spotters, but he had to get into town from there, I'll bet, and fairly quickly. That limits it to just five possible spots where it's easy enough to get in and out quickly but far enough in to stay concealed. They'll have to be checked out, somehow, tomorrow, maybe by the eagles, if they're willing to do it."

  Marge looked it over. "Why wait? Just mark the places on there. I can fly, and I have power and some advantage in the dark."

  They all stared at her. Finally Tiana said, "All right— if you're certain. But be very cautious. He's bound to be expecting us sooner or later, and if he captures your soul, which is faerie in nature, your body will become nothing but stone, an ornament for his door, subject to damage, wear, and breakage which would be permanent, even if you were sometime freed."

  Marge's eyebrows rose. "I didn't know that—but I'll be careful." And, with the marked map, she was off to the south.

  Flying a thousand feet above the treetops and following the bends of the great river. Marge was struck, as always, by the great beauty of the night world.

  Once over the swamp, she headed inland, descending and taking out the map, looking for whatever landmarks she could find and trying to judge distances from a height. She found the first two—cold, forbidding places overgrown and almost invisible, if not looked for specifically—with little trouble, but quickly dismissed them as lost to everyone, even the Master of the Dead.

  The swamp was alive, not only with plants but with a tremendous variety of animals and insects; but, while some seemed threatening and some downright scary, they really didn't bother her too much. Creatures of the night knew how to survive in the night.

  The third place she did not find, in spite of being certain of her location. It had apparently been so reclaimed that it had ceased to exist. The fourth was in remarkably good repair, and gave off emanations of great power, but this power was not human nor was it faerie—it was something far stronger and older and, well, evil. Whatever it was, though, was wedded to the building and the swamp, and would not be likely to trouble itself with the affairs of their tiny ship, no matter what its mission.

  The fifth, however, was another matter—an ancient keep of some kind, partially overgrown but showing signs of much recent activity. The short trails to and from it had clearly been recently cut and well maintained since, and it sat on a small island. The water there was quite shallow; far too shallow for the Hippogryph, but not too shallow to permit a small, flat-bottomed boat from being poled in and out to deeper water, where something better might await, hidden from sight. The boat—really nothing more than a raft—was there and securely tied to a tree.

  The place itself was dark, but she sensed a fire somewhere within, and felt a presence there, a human presence but one not to be trifled with. It was also, oddly, somewhat familiar, but she couldn't place it, nor did she expect to. There were other presences, too—but of a different sort. The place was well guarded, both inside and out, by figures that appeared human from a distance but gave off no sense of warmth or life at all.

  The dead guarded the Master of the Dead.

  He had been here some time, that was clear. How long it would be impossible for anyone but him to tell, but certainly it was long enough to have captured the souls of the newly dead and dying. She wondered how many of the family, friends and associates of those who lived in the region he had under his complete control? How many were being blackmailed with the souls and corpses of their deceased loved ones?

  This was a wizard with a hell of a skill, and it gave him increasing temporal power. As Ruddygore's skill in traveling between here and Earth gave him power and knowledge, so the ease with which the Master bottled up the souls of his victims gave him a different and darker, but no less powerful, domain.

  It was, however, pretty boring company.

  She swung back around and headed for the ship, after scouting the most likely approaches and methods of reaching the place. Without a raft, it would be a bitch getting into there, and if they got one from the town or built one, it would certainly telegraph everything.

  She had been gone several hours, and it would be dawn in perhaps two more. She felt as if she'd already put in a good night.

  She circled the ship, then landed on the afterdeck. It was oddly quiet, and she grew immediately suspicious. Surely after all this, they would have posted a guard, she thought, and slept in shifts.

  "Hello!" she called out. "Is anybody here?" She walked around to the bow and back again, seeing no one an
d finding no lights. Carefully, she opened the double-doors leading below and latched them open, so she could have some sort of getaway. She did not go all the way down, however, instead using her powers to sense what life there was.

  Nothing. She registered no life below at all. That was particularly odd, since, even though both female and a fairy, she still should have gotten something from Audra, who could not leave the ship.

  Suddenly the cabin doors slammed open and a host of horrible-looking creatures burst out. They were loathsome, grotesque versions of human beings, bodies with skin hanging and parts of skull and bone protruding, dressed in decaying rags. She quickly discovered, however, that zombies could move damned fast.

  She turned, but tripped on the top step; by the time she'd scrambled back up, the leading one was almost on top of her. She pushed off into the air and felt a cold, dry, horrible hand grab her right foot. Twisting in the air, she felt resistance suddenly cease and she was up and away, just avoiding the outstretched arms of the rest of the terrible creatures.

  She was five hundred feet in the air before she looked back and saw, to her disgust, the zombie hand still clutching her foot. It had been in such poor condition that she had managed to wrench it loose with her twist.

  She felt horrified and repulsed by it, but actually crossed two-thirds of the river before daring to land on a small island and pry the grisly thing off with sticks. She then jumped into the river to remove any last traces of the horror from her body.

  Finally feeling a little cleaner, she rose back into the air and headed south once more. Later she would have the luxury of screaming, crying, and maybe fainting; now she had to be clearheaded and absolutely perfect.

  It was clear what had happened. Knowing that they would soon come for him, the Master of the Dead had decided to jump the gun. It was possible that he commanded Joe and Tura to do it, for those with the souls had the power—or perhaps they were merely overwhelmed. At any rate, it must have happened shortly after she'd left. She thanked providence that she had insisted on going out that evening; the Master had obviously counted on their deciding on a morning search.

  The fun and games were over. The Master had ceased toying with them and now had all but one of them in his power, that was clear, including the two who represented a strong and Council-backed theocracy. In a sense, he'd been shrewd with his fun, gambling a little that all of his antics would not attract someone truly able to challenge his power and so gathering even more into his net. Now he had not just the voyagers, but Tiana and Macore as well.

  She knew she was racing against time. Within a half hour of sunrise it would be clear to the eagles that something was wrong and they would investigate. Within an hour after that, they would be reporting to Ruddygore on the one hand and launching their own search on the other. She doubted that the Master would remain at the swamp base much longer than he had to; he had accomplished his mission in spades. Not only would any expedition to Earth now not contain those most threatening to Boquillas, but he had under his complete control the bodies of the demigod and demigoddess. If he were a member of the Council, he would have wrested temporal control from Ruddygore without a wizard's battle and he would be supported by the other members, as long as he kept them comfortable and protected. If he were not a Council member, he was in a good position to make a deal with them, no matter what Ruddygore might say.

  But the rule and the religion would take on a far darker coloration under him. Ruddygore had been right to worry; with the Baron and Dacaro doing something terrible on Earth and the Master assuming control here, Hell might well be in the driver's seat, no matter what the outcome of Armageddon was supposed to be according to the script.

  She was certain he would return first to his redoubt. If he'd lived there a fair amount of time, as she surmised, he wasn't going to leave without checking under the bed to see if he'd left anything, particularly anything incriminating.

  Still, she wasn't sure what she could do. She was no match for a wizard of his powers and she knew very little about the process he was using. She knew, of course, that souls could indeed be extracted and captured in sealed vessels, such as bottles, but she also had been taught that such rituals were complex, fairly long, and involved invoking a particular kind of demon. The Master had apparently no need for any of this; he'd taken, by the innkeeper's account, no more than a few minutes to do his dirty work to Joe and Tura, and certainly seemed to have moved fast in the case of the rest of them. Tiana, in particular, was untrained and undisciplined, but had a lot of raw power and a lot of protection, yet he'd apparently taken her as easily as he had the others.

  She circled in and dropped to nearly treetop level, slowing and checking the most obvious route in and out. Obviously she had missed them being moved south only by a freak of perfect timing—on the Master's part. Entirely too much was going that bastard's way so far, she decided angrily.

  She thought she spotted something, then dipped down and perched in a tree. Yes—there it was. A sleek yacht even larger and more luxurious than the Piebald Hippogryph, well-concealed under a lot of brush and natural camouflage. She decided to have a look, and cautiously drifted down until she was on deck. There seemed to be no one aboard, but that was by no means certain, considering the nature of the enemy's troops.

  Someone had been here, though, and recently. She could see the fresh breaks in the vines on which the concealing camouflage was hung, including some fresh enough to be still oozing their acidic sap. They had brought them in, where they'd been met by the raft, probably. Someone had gone aboard, possibly to check for last-minute readiness, then had continued on, back to the swamp base. Hanging on the stem of the ship, held by pulleys, was a small, sleek little sailboat that might well be the lifeboat. It showed signs of use, and, in fact, was still dripping water.

  When you had zombies to row if there was no breeze, or you didn't want to be noticed, you could go twenty miles up the coast very nicely in that thing.

  The central cabin of the yacht was large enough to have portholes above the deck, and she looked in. It was pitch dark, of course, but that didn't bother her.

  They were all there, just sitting around a central table as if about to eat dinner; only none were moving, or even doing more than blinking and breathing. Joe, Tiana, Tura, Macore—even Bly. In the center of the table was a life-sized statue of a woman of unnatural beauty, formed in travertine marble. With a shock she realized that it was Audra.

  Joe, she saw, was wearing his sword, and the others seemed armed as well. She guessed the trap. The Master needed no zombies to guard them; they would guard themselves. They did not think, however, and so would be quite literal in their orders. They would not have curiosity and would not be likely to investigate strange noises outside.

  She went to the rail and looked down, praying that there were no fearsome creatures below to attack her. Then she jumped and slipped into the water and swam underneath the craft.

  The Master had cut it close. There were only two feet or so of draft between the ship and the bottom at this point, although it deepened quickly only fifteen yards or so in back. It was chosen for maximum concealment from ground and air and a quick getaway, but that wasn't what she was looking for. She spotted what she hoped was it, cursing the fact that somebody born and raised in west Texas knew very little about boats of any kind, and then came back up and landed on the deck. There was a forward hatch with several clamps, and she undid them, not without difficulty, for her strength wasn't all that great, and then she swung the hatch cover open, praying to the Earth Mother that no corpses leaped out at her.

  They didn't, and she went down and into the blackness. She was instantly relieved to find some water down there, and began quickly searching for its source. This was, or had been, a smuggler's craft, and it had some very efficient means of scuttling in a hurry if need be.

  The valve wheels and clamps were iron, and it took her several minutes to find something of wood so she could manipulate them from a dista
nce. Once the stick broke and she actually had to leave and find another; but eventually she managed to turn the rusty wheels enough to open the valves much further than they should have been. Water was not entering in torrents, but enough was coming in, she hoped, to sink this boat two feet in the swamp mud.

  She flew out, knowing she could do no more, and closed the hatch, refastening the wooden pegs that secured it. She could only hope that she had opened the ports enough to sink the ship, yet not wide enough to attract attention. There was a gurgling sound below, but it was quite faint through the hatch cover.

  She heard someone coming, the sound of pole hitting water and the creak of timbers, and rose up into the trees to see. Suddenly she was worried that her timing had been off; if so, the Master would be able to take his ship out into the main channel, but it would then sink like a stone in twenty or more feet of water, drowning those aboard.

  It was not the Master, however, but some of his zombies, carrying neatly stacked boxes sealed with ropes. She felt great relief at seeing the horrible creatures, for it meant the Master was still up at the redoubt and that, perhaps, he was making his first mistake. He would not risk taking any of his captives if he were forced to use the small boat, and even that would be slow and conspicuous. She suspected that, come morning, it was going to get very hot for the mysterious stealer of souls around here.

  She decided to go up to his fort and see what other mischief she could accomplish to slow him down. Kauri were not ones for revenge or other petty emotions, but this guy deserved all she could do to him.

  A false dawn was already permeating even this remote place, and she knew that very soon her powers would begin to wane and she'd be forced to wear the glasses, putting her at a great disadvantage. Still, she had to see what she could and do what she was able to foul the wizard up. Dawn would also mean the start of the process to nab him.