“There is much to explain,” said Gulamendis. “He is Valheru, and he is human, and I only know part of his story, but when he arrives, you will see without a doubt that he is a Dragon Lord.”
“And he comes to us as an envoy?”
“Yes,” said Gulamendis. “Now, may I suggest you keep that part of the report to the Regent for later, because I do not know how our coming envoy would react to being greeted with magic and fire.”
Tanderae took a deep breath, and then he began to chuckle. “Your levity tells me I need not worry, though I will need more reassurance. Still, it might be worth a quick death from the Regent’s personal guards to see the expression on his face when the Queen’s consort arrives.”
“For you, perhaps, not me. If you don’t tell him, I most certainly will. It is part of my charge to him, and my brother’s life and my own hang in the balance.”
“I wonder what has become of your brother.”
“He is almost certainly here if he had the means,” said Gulamendis. “And if he’s here, he’s out looking for me.”
“What are the chances he’ll find you?”
“Good,” said the Demon Master. “We have the knack for tracking each other down. He thinks as I, and will trace my route, but once he decides it’s time to return, he will come back.”
They left the private room and the Lorekeeper said, “Let us get this over with. The Regent Lord will be…unhappy, with much of what you have to tell him.”
With a hint of foreboding in his voice, Gulamendis said, “A fact of which I am painfully aware.”
CHAPTER 18
EXPLORATION
Sandreena held up her hand.
She had not been comfortable with the selection being assumed by the sorcerer, with the Father-Bishop being relegated to what looked to be, at best, an advisor. Yet, these people had treated her well, seen to her care, and provided her with everything she needed, without question or obligation. She had been transported by the woman, Miranda, who seemed a magic-user of significant power and ability, along with Amirantha, who could easily be the last person in the world she would ever care to see again.
Now they worked their way up the trail toward the site of the muddled sacrifices she had observed less than two weeks before, though it felt like ages. Something ahead moved, which is why she had signaled for a halt. Brandos brought up the rear, for despite Amirantha’s and Miranda’s significant power, a second sword was welcome. And despite her distaste for Amirantha, Sandreena had a fondness for the old fighter, who was steadfast and honest, or as honest as any companion of Amirantha was likely to be. She gave him credit for at least attempting to warn her that Amirantha was not a man to grow close to. More than once in the last five years she had wished she had listened.
The sounds coming from ahead were furtive, either an animal in the evening brush or someone doing a bad job of hiding. She indicated she would scout ahead, and not for the first time in her life wished she had made a less cumbersome choice in armor and arms. Still, with practice she had learned to move in a relatively quiet fashion.
In almost a duck-walk, she moved in a low crouch, slowly, until she could raise her head enough to see what lay ahead. As she suspected, there was a sentry who was not being particularly attentive to her route, but who was showing no signs of being sleepy or otherwise easy to approach. She slowly retreated.
Reaching the other three, she whispered, “One lookout. He’s too far away for me to reach without a loud rush.”
Miranda said, “I’ll deal with him.”
She moved forward without much attempt at stealth, though in the deep evening shadows on the narrow canyon, her dark dress served effectively as camouflage. Still, she made enough noise and there was enough movement that the sentry looked up when she was about a dozen yards away.
“Huh?” was all he managed to get out.
With a single wave of her hand, Miranda sent out a bolt of energy that compressed the air before it, enough to deliver a punishing blow to the man’s face. He somersaulted completely backward, to land on the rocks behind him, smacking his head hard enough to render him motionless.
They hurried forward and Amirantha asked, “Is he dead?”
Kneeling, Sandreena inspected the fallen guard and said, “No, but with that blow to the back of his head he’s not going anywhere for many hours.”
“Scout ahead,” said Miranda.
Sandreena did as asked and, in less than five minutes, she returned, her face drained of color. “We have to move, now!” She motioned for the others to follow and hurried forward without any attempt at concealment.
They reached a rise from which Sandreena had been able to climb a slight ridge to oversee the ritual the last time she had been here. She motioned for them to follow and when they neared the top of the rise, they understood why she had abandoned silence.
There were voices, chanting in unison, and when they cleared the rise, they saw there must have been a hundred of them. A huge fire was burning, flames leaping thirty feet into the air, and around it stood a dozen robed bedecked men and women. In a semicircle around them the others were gathered, men and a few women, dressed in a variety of garb, all fashion and manner, from all parts of the world, Keshian, the Kingdom, Novindus, and the Eastern Kingdoms. But all wore a black head cover. Tied scarves, flop hats, leather caps, it didn’t matter; everyone covered their head in black.
Miranda said, “Well, there’s your Black Caps and it looks like most of them have shown up for something important.”
“I think I know,” whispered Amirantha. “It’s a summoning, but it’s different.”
“How’s it different?” asked Miranda.
“I don’t know. It’s just…different.” He whispered, yet there was an urgency in his voice. “Something very wrong is about to happen.” He looked at Miranda. “Be ready.”
“For what?” she asked.
“Anything, but whatever it is, it will be very bad.” His skin crawled, and he felt powers gathering that were dark and terrible beyond anything he had ever encountered in a long life of dealing with infernal beings.
Three men appeared to come from the other end of the canyon, one wearing robes of bright red trimmed in black and silver piping. The other two, one on either side, wore black, like the others. The two black-clad figures were hooded, their features obscured by the deep shadows. The red-robed man had his head uncovered, and he smiled broadly as he came to face the semicircle of gathered adherents. He stepped up onto a large rock, and held up his hand for silence. Instantly, the chanting ceased.
“Servants of Dahun…” he began.
“Damn,” swore Amirantha.
“What?” asked Miranda.
It was Sandreena who answered, “Dahun is a demon prince.”
“One of Maarg’s Captains,” said Amirantha. “If I understand everything told to me in the last few days, which I almost certainly don’t…” He pointed. “But I know that man, and I know that anything he’s involved with is going to be something very bad.”
“Who is he?”
“That,” said Amirantha, “is my brother, Belasco.”
“Evil-looking bastard,” said Sandreena. “I can see the resemblance.”
Miranda shot a dark look at Sandreena, then realized it was the young knight’s manner of dealing with fear. Miranda had none of either Sandreena’s or Amirantha’s experience with demons, but she had faced enough dark magic in her life to sense this situation was verging on becoming something bad.
“In four nights,” said Belasco, “we shall greet our master and begin the transformation of this world into our master’s domain, and we, his blessed servants, will be his first chosen, ruling at his side.”
“First to be eaten, most likely,” said Brandos.
“Well, I’m hardly the one to condemn lying to those who are about to be gulled, but I only took their gold, not their lives,” said Amirantha.
With a grudging tone, Sandreena said, “For that small diff
erence, you might find Lims-Kragma lets you return to life as something a little higher-born than a cockroach.”
Miranda said, “We have four more nights to decide what to do.”
Amirantha said, “No, we have until that guard wakes up.”
Sandreena said, “Will he know he was struck by a spell?”
Miranda said, “Normally he’d wake up feeling like he’d been on a three-day drunk, but the way he hit his head…”
“Well,” whispered Brandos, “we could finish the job on the way out and make it look as if he simply fell off his perch and broke his skull on the rocks.”
“Someone in that bunch is a tracker and would see we were here,” said Sandreena.
“If there was some way we could convince that fellow he had just fallen asleep,” said Miranda.
“I have an idea,” said Amirantha. “Come on, we must hurry.”
He led them back down the trail to where the still-recumbent guard sprawled across the rocks. He motioned for them to follow him past, a good thirty yards down the narrow trail. “Just be silent,” he whispered. “Can you wake the guard when I tell you?”
Miranda said, “I believe so, though why would I want to?”
“Just wait and do it when I tell you, then all of you get down out of sight.”
He closed his eyes and reached inside his belt pouch, pulling out a crystal. Holding it tightly, he muttered an incantation and suddenly a puff of dark, fetid smoke erupted from the ground.
Stepping out of the smoke was a woman, tall, stunning in appearance, and nude.
The newly summoned demon looked around with large, expressive brown eyes. Miranda was forced to admit she was certain to be most men’s perfect female fantasy: long legs, round buttocks, a flat stomach, breasts that defied age, and perfect skin. Thick brown hair tumbled down to her lower back, and she had a face that was without flaw. Her full lips parted in a smile and she said, “Master! I love you!”
Sandreena said, “Darthea? Really, Amirantha, is this the time for that?” Her expression was venomous and her color was rising, her cheeks flushed with anger.
“Shut up,” said Amirantha impatiently to Sandreena. He held up his hand and said to the demon, “Not now. I have a task for you.” He took the beautiful demon by the elbow and pointed to the unconscious man. He whispered a series of instructions, then said, “Can you remember that?”
“Yes, master,” she replied and with dainty steps, unmindful of the sharp rocks beneath her bare feet, she hurried to the sentry.
“When she reaches his side, wake him,” said the Warlock.
Miranda waited, then when the female demon knelt next to the unconscious man, Amirantha signaled it was time.
Miranda closed her eyes briefly, then pointed her hand, and they were rewarded with a groan from the sentry.
Amirantha waved the others out of sight and crouched down.
“Oh, you poor man,” said Darthea to the recovering warrior. “I’m so sorry. I did not mean to startle you like that, having you fall off the rock and hit your head. Here, let me help you up.”
The stunning nude woman helped the man to his feet and, as reason returned to him, his eyes widened in disbelief. Amirantha spoke a short, quiet phrase, and suddenly she was gone, vanishing with a tiny puff of smoke.
The blinking, confused sentry looked around, then, with knees wobbly, sat down and rubbed his tender head.
Amirantha crawled back to where the others waited and motioned for them to follow. When they were far enough away to transport without being detected, Miranda said, “That was interesting.”
Brandos laughed quietly. “He’s certain now he slipped and hit his skull on a rock, because who in their right mind would think he was startled by a naked beauty in this gloomy backside of the universe? And I pity the man if he tries to tell the story to any of those cutthroats he’s in league with.”
“He’ll keep quiet,” said Sandreena grudgingly.
“You’ve bought us four more nights,” said Miranda. “What now?”
“We return in four nights and see how much magic it’s going to take to ruin a very powerful summoning.”
“We have as much as you’ll need.”
“I have no doubt,” said the Warlock, “but I’d like to see it done without you or me or anyone else dying in the process.”
“There’s always a risk,” said Miranda.
“Let’s go somewhere to talk about it,” said Amirantha.
“Grab his arm,” Miranda said to Brandos, who complied. She reached out and gripped Sandreena and Amirantha and suddenly they were back in the garden on Sorcerer’s Isle.
“I have got to learn to do that,” said Amirantha.
“It takes years,” said Miranda.
He smiled. “I’m willing.”
“Well, if we survive this, maybe. Right now you need to decide who or what we need, and how we’re best served to deal with this mess. I can manage perhaps one more person when I transport that way.” She seemed distressed as she said, “If Magnus was here, together we could get as many as nine or ten people to that spot. If he and Pug were here…well, if Pug were here I wouldn’t worry as much.” She fell silent.
Brandos said, “Besides magic, there are a lot of swords and evil men willing to use them back there. I’ve been around magicians long enough to know you don’t have time to cast more than that first spell if someone’s busy trying to cut off your head.”
“We need two plans,” said Miranda. “One if we have to do this alone, and another if Pug and Magnus return.”
“Are there others here who can fill in for your husband and son?” asked Amirantha.
“All the magicians I know who could help us in a fight like this are either dead or on the world of New Kelewan. Most of the students here have never been in a fight, let alone a battle.” She thought for a minute, then said, “Sandreena, how many magic-using priests in your Order can handle demons?”
“Some. I know banishment spells as well as most of them. It’s part of our training.”
Amirantha agreed. “If she has a weakness, it’s to use her mace first, but when she’s able, she can banish a minor demon as well as I can. I’ve seen her do it.”
Sandreena scowled, not sure if she was being complimented or insulted.
“You’re coming with us, then,” said Miranda.
“I wouldn’t miss it,” said the Knight-Adamant.
Miranda said, “Rest, and get something to eat if you’re hungry. I have more plans to make.”
She hurried out of the garden, and Brandos said, “Well, food sounds good. Coming?”
“In a moment,” said Amirantha.
Brandos looked from the Warlock’s face to the young woman’s and nodded, turned, and left them alone.
Expectantly, Sandreena said, “What?”
Amirantha took a deep breath. “I have no idea what will happen in four days, and I know I can’t talk you out of coming.”
“Why would you try to?” she asked.
“I know things ended badly between us—”
“There was no ‘between us,’” she interrupted. “We spent some time together and you lied to me to get me into your bed.”
“It was your bed, actually,” said Amirantha. “And I never lied. I just didn’t tell you the entire truth.”
“A fine distinction, I’m sure, but we have other things with which to concern ourselves, don’t you agree?” He nodded. “Why would you try to talk me out of coming along?”
“You’re the most resourceful woman I know,” said Amirantha, “but you have a decided knack to rush in without hesitation.”
“I’m a Knight-Adamant,” she reminded him.
“A fact of which I am painfully aware, but you sometimes underestimate risks. Look, you never told me what happened before you got here, but I’ve seen you look better. You almost got yourself killed again, didn’t you?”
“I appreciate your show of concern, but it’s too late.” She spun on him and poked
him hard in the chest with an armored finger. He winced but stayed silent. “I was a whore, Amirantha, and no man showed me anything but contempt or lust until I met Brother Mathias. After that, it was bloodshed and mayhem, and I found a calling, but even then, men only looked at me with hate or with lust.
“Then you came along with your damned charm and funny sayings, and made me feel as if someone could actually see beneath the surface…” She took a breath as if to calm herself, and said, “I can face your demons, Amirantha. I can face a room full of armed cutthroats. I just can’t face your falsehoods.” She took a step and then turned to say, “One thing, though. Darthea: you’ve done well in changing her looks. Though the goat’s hooves and horns did add a certain exotic quality to her.”
Without saying anything more she turned and left the Warlock standing alone in the garden. For over a hundred years Amirantha had been willing to take advantage of the passing generosity of women when it suited him, for often they repaid his kindness with the only currency they possessed, their bodies. But when he was ninety years of age, he happened to chance upon one he had known in his youth. She was now an old and faded grandmother, content to sit in the shade and card wool while her daughters and their families worked hard on a farm. She didn’t recognize him as he asked for and was given a cup of water.
For a long moment he stood watching her as she watched her granddaughters, and he realized that when the granddaughters were old and at the end of their lives, he most likely would still be as he was that minute, and he would watch them watching their granddaughters. At that moment, whatever spark of affection he felt for humanity was damped. The only woman he had truly cared for in any fashion after that encounter was Samantha, but only because she made Brandos happy.
His feelings for Brandos were still a mystery to the Warlock, perhaps he saw him as the son he would never have. But now, when they were together, people mistook the fighting man for the elder and Amirantha knew the day would come when his companion would either die in battle or have to quit the adventurous life to sit at home, next to Samantha as she carded wool, watching their grandchildren.
Rides a Dread Legion Page 34
