Timura Trilogy - The Gods Awaken Part 17

Deep in the wine-dark night, Safar paced the room. Filling one whole side was the great empty coffin ofLord Asper. On the wall above the coffin was the mural that had once graced Queen Clayre's chambers.

Here was the glittering castle and the mysterious King of the Spirit Riders leading his army into battle.

There were his warrior daughters, each more beautiful than the other. In front of them was the most beautiful of all--the ebony-skinned princess on the midnight-black mare who had appeared several times over the years to warn Safar, or lead him to safety.

It was all a maddening puzzle. A labyrinth of hidden meanings. Safar had little memory of what had happened since his escape from the past and future dreamworld of Hadinland. There were only impressions, swirling like stars in a drunken sky. There was the wild ride on Khysmet. Quick s.n.a.t.c.hes of the battle with the monster queen in her underground lair. A hazy period of illness, when he sensed he had been knocking on Death's door. Then Palimak had appeared astride Khysmet and they were hammering together at a stony surface.

The surface finally gave way and he suddenly found himself bursting out of the wall of this very room.

And then he was charging out of the fortress on Khysmet to meet and defeat the plague of rodents attacking his people.

Safar stared at the mural. He remembered being a momentary part of the ancient painting--sitting astride Khysmet with Palimak, whispering for him to remain quite still while the spell he'd cast continued its course.

He was peering out into the room of the witch queen, Clayre. Nearby was her son, King Rhodes--ruler of Hunan. They were bent over a table, concentrating on something. What it was, he couldn't see. But he could feel the intense flow of magic arcing back and forth between them.

Then it came to him that Rhodes wasn't a true part of that magic. He was only a vessel, with a sorcerous something within.

Safar dug deeper, investigating this oddity. He caught the whiff of a familiar scent. It carried him all the way back to his student days in old Walaria. By the G.o.ds, it was Kalasariz!

He'd defeated the canny spymaster several times before, but he kept arising like a vengeful ghost to bedevil him. Somehow he'd taken up residence within the king.

There was still more. What was it? Who was it? Then he sensed the lesser presences of Prince Luka and Lord Fari--Iraj's old demon companions of the Spell of Four. Kalasariz had somehow turned the tables on them. Now they were his much-abused slaves.

However, that left a major question unanswered. There was Kalasariz, Luka and Fari. That made only three.

What had happened to the all-important fourth--Iraj Protarus?

Safar had strained mightily, but couldn't find a single trace of the man who had once been his dearest friend but was now his bitterest enemy. Had Kalasariz managed to kill Iraj as well? That didn't seem possible. Wily as Kalasariz was, Iraj was not one to go so easily.

As Safar had pondered this, Palimak had cast the remaining portion of his spell and they'd been hurled across a spectral world into the Kyranian fortress.

Safar sighed heavily, still caught on the horns of the dilemma of Iraj. He turned away from the mural, which Palimak's spell had transported with them. There were too many questions, each requiring him to follow completely different roads, so it was unlikely a single answer could be found that would satisfyeverything.

A line from the Book of Asper crawled into memory: "All that is Without is Within ... And all that is Within, is Without ... " Safar smiled. Once again he was confronted with another murky verse from Asper that seemed to have meaning. But the meaning defied penetration. No help there.

He strode over to a mirror, and for the first time in what seemed an eternity, viewed his own face. There were the familiar features. The blue eyes, the long chin, the strong nose. He was richly tanned from his time under the hot Hadin sun. No answers there, either, my friend.

Safar touched his chin. There was a bit of a morning stubble. Safar got out his razor, stropping it keen for a shave. Idly, he noticed the stubble was golden instead of its usual dark shadow.

When he'd bathed last night he'd noticed the same was true of the hair on his chest and privates. There were also several wide golden streaks running through the dark hair on his head. Obviously, so much time being naked under that burning sky had bleached him out--possibly forever.

The rest of his body seemed unaffected, except he was more muscular than before. Some good had come from his time in Hadin. He'd always been strongly built, but now his chest and limbs were heavier, more defined. And now that he was well he felt like he was filled with a never-ending supply of energy.

This was a definite bonus. For he'd need all the strength he could summon for the hard days ahead.

Safar soaped his face and started shaving. He paused a moment, staring into his own eyes as if they belonged to another, wiser man. And he asked that other man, Where is Iraj? But no answer came from this silly exercise.

He chuckled at his foolishness and continued his ablutions.

In his hiding place, Iraj suppressed outright laughter.

He was so close to his enemy that if he had a knife he could catch him unaware and kill him. Of course, he'd need hands to hold that knife--which was something he lacked at the moment. In fact, he had no body at all. And wasn't it odd that he didn't miss it?

Then again, maybe it wasn't so strange. In Iraj's previous existence as a shapechanger he'd known constant pain. Especially as he moved through the agony of a.s.suming one form or another. Bones cracking. Skin stretching and transforming. Internal organs boiling in a sorcerous cauldron. Brain and nerves on fire as they were bombarded by over-intensified sensations.

No, this was much better. The spirit form was a perfect container for the hate he felt for his enemy. What was more, as a spirit he could be patient in the extreme. And patience was a quality that Iraj had never possessed before.

Here he would wait--just out of his enemy's sight. He would watch all that occurred and,at the proper time and the proper place, he'd strike.

Poor Safar.

Sentence had already been pa.s.sed and he didn't know it.

CHAPTER TWENTY.

STORM OVER SYRAPIS The monsoon season struck Syrapis full force. Even the natives said it was the worst in recent memory.

First came the stultifying atmosphere, settling over the island like a thick, uncomfortable blanket.

Breathing was accompanied by a wet rattling of the lungs. Old people and babes were most affected by this and Safar and Palimak were kept busy night and day treating a host of respiratory ailments.

This was accompanied by a series of heavy rainstorms that drenched everyone to the bone. Clothes never seemed to dry. Small wounds became huge weeping sores. The animals developed mange and other skin diseases. Goat milk and cheese became a precious commodity as the mother goats' teats dried up.

Next came the crops. The Kyranians had brought seeds and cuttings from their high-mountain homeland.

Over the past few years the Esmirian plants had done well in the mountain fortress the Kyranians had chosen for a home. But the monsoon brought a dampening sickness with it. Roots of young plants were pinched off by the disease. The older plants were stricken with a mysterious fungus. Gray patches would suddenly appear on the leaves and within only a few days the plants would wither and die.

Lightning was a constant peril. Striking without warning even on those rare days when the skies were blue and empty. Parents taught their children to make a small presence if they were caught out in a lightning storm.

They were taught to crouch down, head between their legs, being sure to keep their weight balanced only on their toes. The idea being to make as little contact with the ground as possible. They were also told to stay away from fences during a lightning strike. And if caught out in a wooded area, to get under the shortest tree. For some reason the Lightning G.o.ds favored the tallest objects on which to concentrate their wrath.

The airs.h.i.+p was grounded the whole time and there was no surveillance while the monsoon storms lasted.

Safar and Palimak weren't too concerned about this vulnerability, reasoning their enemies were just as hampered by the storms as they were.

Safar, however, was concerned about the mercenary fleet they'd hired. Besides the airs.h.i.+p, it was this sea force that had kept King Rhodes bottled up. Coralean was dispatched, along with a strong guard, to make certain the pirate captains remained loyal.

Meanwhile, Safar spent all his spare time pondering his next move. He told Palimak and Leiria about his enslavement to the spell of Hadin, his escape and the subsequent disappearance of Iraj.

"I suppose we'll unravel those mysteries in good time," Safar said one night. "But at the moment the thing that intrigues me most is that mural."

He indicated the painting on the wall. "I wonder mightily what the story is behind that. Who was the king?

And what of his daughters? Especially the dark-skinned woman on the black mare. When her ghost visited me she said she was a Spirit Rider. And that she was commanded to lead me to Syrapis. For what purpose, I don't know."

"Maybe it has something to do with Lord Asper's coffin, father," Palimak said. "To me, that's as big a mystery as the mural. One moment I saw his mummified corpse. And then he was gone. To be replaced by your living body."

"I have an inkling of what happened to Asper," Safar replied. "It's my theory that the coffin is a gateway between here and Hadin. Unless I'm in grievous error, we basically traded places."He thought a moment, then added, "At least, it is was a gateway. It's closed now. And there's no way of reopening it again."

Outside, the intensity of the rainstorm increased, furiously pounding on the shuttered windows.

Leiria s.h.i.+vered. "Give me a sword, a spear and a s.h.i.+eld and I'll fight any enemy you put in my way," she said. "But all this talk of magical gateways, missing corpses and Spirit Riders is unnerving."

Palimak said, "About the mural, father..."

"Yes?"

"Why don't we talk to Queen Jooli?" he asked. "Maybe she can tell us its history."

Safar considered his suggestion. Jooli was nearly as big a puzzle to him as the magical mysteries he was attempting to unravel. He still thought it odd that a hostage should so completely switch her loyalties.

Yet he sensed he could trust her implicitly. She clearly hated her father, just as her sympathies were clearly with the Kyranians. Perhaps it had something to do with her witch's powers. Had she learned something through magic that had opened her eyes?

There was only one way to find out.

"Send for her," Safar said.

A few minutes later Jooli came into the room, still sleepy-eyed from her bed. Twin lightning spears crashed outside, light flaring through the shutter panels. Mixing with the wavery light of the torches sputtering in their brackets on the wall.

Jooli was wearing a long, soft gown and in the sudden intensity of light her slender figure was outlined through the rich cloth. At the same time Safar caught the scent of her perfume--delicate flower blossom.

He was startled at her beauty, realizing this was the first time he'd seen her out of armor.

He started to speak and found his voice had grown husky. It had been a long time since he'd been with a woman and she'd caught him off guard with her earthy presence. He cleared his throat to cover his embarra.s.sment and bade her to sit and take some wine with them.

They talked casually for a time, drinking wine and remarking that the storm seemed to be subsiding. Safar noticed that Jooli was eyeing him speculatively, no doubt wondering why she'd been called here. He felt a gentle touch of magic as she sniffed about to see if there was any danger. When none was found, the subtle probing quickly vanished.

Jooli spoke first, going directly to the heart of things. "I suppose you're all wondering about me," she said.

"Wanting to know why I'm acting like such a willing hostage. And why I seem so disloyal to my father.

"I suppose you're even asking yourselves if it's some sort of trick. Suspecting, maybe, that any day now I'll reveal my true colors and stab someone in the back."

The rain made a gentle patter now and Safar smiled. "No one thinks that of you, Jooli," he said. "It's apparent to us all that when we found you, we found a friend. Although I must admit that I'm mystified how we came to be so fortunate. Until you came here to live, you knew nothing about us."

"That's not quite true," Jooli said. "You see, Safar Timura, I've been waiting for your arrival ever since I was a girl."There was a long silence as everyone in the room wondered at this startling remark. A sudden wind blew up, cras.h.i.+ng against the shutters.

Palimak's eyes jerked toward the mural, then toward Jooli. His demon senses p.r.i.c.kling with awareness.

He muttered, "Yes, it makes sense."

Safar said, "Apparently my son is much more astute than I am, Jooli. Which doesn't surprise me. In not too many years our roles are sure to be reversed. And he will be the teacher and I his willing student. But please enlighten me. So I'll possess the same knowledge as my son."

"I'm only guessing, father," Palimak said, blus.h.i.+ng. Safar was his hero and he didn't want to discover any c.h.i.n.ks in his armor, much less think of himself as superior in any way.

Once again, the storm's fury lessened. The pounding at the shutters became a faint, tap, tap, tap.

Safar chuckled. "Let's see how good a guess it was, son," he said. "Go on, Jooli. Please explain."

Jooli nodded. "Gladly. I've been waiting for the right moment and it's finally here. However, first I need to tell you a little about myself. So, if you'll forgive a rather lengthy approach..."

"We have all the time in the world, Jooli," Safar said. Then he grimaced, rueful. "Although that might not be as long as we wished."

"I know something about that, too," Jooli said. "The G.o.ds asleep. The Demon Moon. Hadin. The end of the world."

As if on cue one of the shutters came loose, cras.h.i.+ng back and forth with the wind. Palimak jumped up to fix it back into place.

Safar acted as if nothing had happened to disturb them. "This is getting more and more interesting," he said mildly. "Go on."

Without preamble, Jooli said, "I am the oldest of my father's children. I am also the best warrior in Hunan. This is no boast, merely a statement of what is so. I have natural abilities, plus I've trained long and hard at the art of warfare. As you've no doubt noticed, in Syrapis a leader must be a noteworthy warrior, or she wouldn't be able to hold her kingdom much past the coronation.

"Regardless, in my view I am the rightful successor to the throne of Hunan. There is no law in our land forbidding a woman ruler, so my claim to the crown is certainly not without merit."

The wind took on a sighing note, whispering many sad things. And Leiria murmured, "But your father is reluctant."

Jooli laughed, not without bitterness. "When it comes to my father," she said, "reluctant is such a mild term. *Over my dead body' is more the way he puts it. Although lately he's dropped that phrase.

Imagining, I suppose, that I might take him up on it. Anyway, he's done his best over the years to marry me off to one prince or another. Hoping to get me out of the way and make a key alliance to boot.

"He's also tossed me a royal bone by giving me the t.i.tle of *Queen,' and a few hundred acres of farmland to rule so I can have an independent income and satisfy my cravings for leaders.h.i.+p by ordering the cows and harvest crews about."

Outside, there was a lull in the storm and everything became very quiet.Safar frowned, then said, "You don't seem the sort of person to be ruled by overweening ambition. Do you really want the crown of Hunan so badly you'd take up with your father's enemies? Or is there another, much deeper reason?"

Jooli gave him a long look. Then she hoisted her wine cup, drained it, hooked the jug and refilled her cup.

She gave a long sigh.

"Yes, Safar Timura," she said, "I do have a deeper reason. And as it so happens, I'm driven by the same foolish desires as you. In short, I want to wake up the G.o.ds and save the world!"

Safar nodded, then said, "Good. Now, tell us about the mural."

Palimak gaped in surprise. Leiria stifled laughter when she saw his expression. The poor boy had really believed he had guessed something his father was too slow to realize. She didn't say anything to him, but she thought, It's time you understood, little one, that Safar always knows! Then a sad caveat came to her: Except when it's a personal matter. When it came to love, Safar was as ignorant as a splay-footed plowboy.

Jooli said, "Yes, the mural. I've just about reached that point in my story. But one moment more, please."

"You can have as many moments as you desire," Safar said.

"You can't fully understand," Jooli said, "until I tell you about my grandmother--Queen Clayre. Queen Mother Clayre, to be more exact."