Timura Trilogy - The Gods Awaken Part 2

To Palimak's amazement, the Spirit Rider didn't stop when she reached the end of the peninsula. Instead, she rode her mare right out onto the water, leaping across the surface as it were a broad, firm king's highway.

He felt his father tense and knew he was wondering if he should follow. Then Safar relaxed--decision made--and gave Khysmet his head. Immediately the stallion sprang across the water, running after the mare with no difficulty.

They rode like that for a time, hooves splas.h.i.+ng in what seemed like shallow water, while on either side enormous waves boomed past. Soon the novelty wore off and Palimak dozed. He slept fitfully, waking every now and then to see the beacon still moving ahead of them.

Then Gundaree and Gundara were both shrieking in his ear. The two little magical Favorites, his ever-present guardians, were both crying out at the same time: "Beware, Little Master! Beware"

He felt a rumbling beneath him and he shouted a warning to Safar. But his father was already coming up out of his stupor, steadying them as Khysmet shrilled surprise and bounded high into the air. When he came down, his hooves skittered on slippery rock, but then the nimble-footed horse steadied himself and they were racing over stony ground.

At that moment a blast of cold winds swept in from the side, sweeping the snow away. Palimak gaped at the sight. Hunched over the little island they now found themselves on was a huge statue of a demon.

Palimak felt his father jump in shock, as if he'd been stung.

"Asper!" he said in a harsh voice. "It's Asper!"

As they rode toward the statue Palimak lifted his head and saw something loom up just beyond. About ahundred yards away was a tall, sheer cliff face, unmarked except for a wide cave mouth in the center. At the top of the cliff that was some sort of black stone structure. Palimak dully wondered what it was. Then he saw several turrets and he realized it was a castle.

Just then he heard the Spirit Rider shout and his head snapped back. He saw her poised on the mare, waiting at the steps of a wide stairway that led up to the statue's open mouth.

She shouted, "This way!" And plunged up the broken staircase to disappear into the mouth of the statue.

Safar didn't have to urge Khysmet on. The big horse leaped after the mare with such force that Palimak's grip around his father's waist was nearly torn away. A heartbeat later they were inside the idol and all was darkness.

There was a flash of light and he felt a shock s.h.i.+ver through his body, rattling his teeth. Dazed, he realized his father had vanished. And now Palimak was holding Khysmet's reins. More puzzling still, his hands were no longer those of a small boy, but were large and muscular.

Khysmet whinnied and Palimak instinctively leaned forward, ducking under the dim shape of a low overhang. From far ahead he heard the rhythmic pounding of drums. A great chorus of voices chanted words he couldn't quite make out.

Then, soaring over the chorus, he thought he heard a familiar voice. Recognition dawned and he shouted, "Father! Father!"

A voice full of agony cried out in reply: "Palimak. Help me, Palimak!"

At that moment a great explosion erupted, lifting him up and hurling him away on a hot fierce wind.

He burst out of the vision, gasping for air as if he had come up from the bottom of the sea itself.

And he was back on the airs.h.i.+p again, Leiria's hand on his shoulder, eyes deep with concern.

Palimak brushed at his face, as if swatting away a fly. "By the G.o.ds," he said, hoa.r.s.ely, "I swear I heard his voice!"

"Whose voice, Palimak?" Leiria asked. "Who did you hear?"

The young man's eyes were agonized. "My father's," he said. He shook his head. "It can't be possible,"

he said. But I think ... somehow ... somewhere ... he must be alive!"

Leiria felt like the sun had suddenly decided to arise after a long, cold sleep. The ice jam broken, all the feelings she'd been holding back for so long flooded forth.

Safar! she thought.

Alive?

She clutched Palimak to her and wept.

CHAPTER THREE.

THE SEA OF MISERY.

All was pain.Iraj had no body: no blood, no sinew, no muscle, no bone--much less skin to contain them.

And yet there was still pain.

In its torment, pain defined him. He was a writhing shadow of a soul on fire. A smoking stone in the guts of some howling devil dancing on the coals of the h.e.l.lfires.

If he'd had tears, Iraj would have wept them. If he'd had a tongue, he would've lapped up those tears to quench the awful thirst. And if he'd had a voice, he would've screamed for mercy. Yes, Iraj Protarus, who had never seen value in mercy, would trade his crown--and a thousand more--for one drop of pity now.

But who was there to pity him?

The G.o.ds?

Safar had once told him the G.o.ds were asleep and wouldn't answer even if the prayer were cast into the Heavens by a million voices. Safar had said many things like that and if Iraj had possessed a heart to break, or a heart to hate, he would have both loved and despised Safar now for all his wise words.

Safar Timura--enemy and friend. Friend and enemy. The one who had saved him. The one who had condemned him to this eternity of pain.

If Iraj had possessed the ability for amus.e.m.e.nt, he'd have finally known the true meaning of irony.

In his previous existence Iraj had been a shapechanger. Rabid wolf to black-hearted man, then back again.

And before that?

Images bubbled up to burst on the thick surface of his pain.

He was a boy again in Alisarrian's secret cave, swearing a blood oath of eternal loyalty to Safar. He was a young prince again, leading his armies against the demon king, Manacia, who threatened all humans with enslavement. He was King of Kings again, betraying Safar because he feared Timura would betray him first. He was a fiend again, avenging himself on Safar for the crime of uncommitted sins.

As each of these images took form, only to dissolve into a soul-searing froth, Iraj gradually emerged into an awareness that was somehow separate from the pain. It was like struggling from a molten sea to rest a moment in a world both familiar and yet alien.

He was only a lowly creature whose sole desire was to escape into death. But in his desperation to escape a more solid firmament was formed.

His first thought was: Where is Safar?

With this thought came heightened awareness: Safar was nearby! And he was also in pain. Satisfaction followed, but then he was pummeled by a further realization: Safar was not in as much pain as Iraj.

He pulled himself higher out of the sea of misery, determined to reach Safar. As he did so, Iraj sensed other creatures scuttling up behind him. Groaning things. Weeping things. Evil things.

Something like a tentacle wriggled toward him. Then a second. Then a third.

He knew who they were. When they had names, they were Kalasariz, Fari and Luka. Iraj had escapedthem once, but somehow they had followed.

Not voices, but images of voices, came to him like the dry scuttling of many insects itching across his memory. "The king! Where is the king?" And, "Here, brothers!" And, "Follow him! Follow him!"

Iraj gathered all his strength and flung himself forward, humping madly like a hunted worm.

He must escape. He must reach Safar.

Crying: Safar, Safar! Wait for me, Safar!

CHAPTER FOUR.

THE BARBARIAN QUEEN.

King Rhodes hefted the sack of gold in his big fist. "For another one of these," he rumbled, "you can be king of all Syrapis for all I care."

His bearded jaw swung open like hairy gates to make a yellow, broken-toothed smile. "'King of kings' is a t.i.tle I've been hearing bandied about lately. If that's what you want, I won't stand in your way."

Rhodes was playing to his subjects, who laughed in appreciation at their king's jest, crowding closer to the platform so they could hear every word of the exchange.

Palimak snorted. "They tried that in Esmir," he said. "Didn't work."

There were angry mutters in the crowd. They didn't like Palimak's rude retort to their king.

Rhodes dug thick fingers into his beard to scratch at some irritation. "Clever answer," he said. He jerked a bejeweled thumb at a scrawny-looking n.o.bleman at his side. "Only the other day I was telling my minister--Muundy here--what a clever young prince you are. Setting a fine example for me and my brother kings to follow."

Palimak couldn't help but notice the contrast between the rich stone set in the thumb-ring and the grime under the king's nails. He warned himself mentally to proceed with great care. It would not be wise to underestimate this man. Of all the kings of Syrapis, Rhodes was the biggest, the meanest, the most barbaric.

And yet he had more than mere cunning glinting behind those rheumy eyes. He was also obviously well-informed by his spies. His hinted knowledge of Palimak's past troubles with Iraj Protarus was firm evidence of that. One thing Palimak had learned, however, was that the only way to deal with Rhodes was from strength.

As Coralean--that canny old caravan master--liked to say, "Rhodes is either at your feet or at your throat."

"That's kind of you to say so, Majesty," Palimak replied, not bothering to hide his sarcasm.

He turned to Leiria, who was standing easy by his side, thumbs hooked over her belt. "When we get home," he said, "remind me to see about setting up a special school for the kings of Syrapis. We'll start with cla.s.ses on regular bathing and grooming."

Leiria made a thin smile. She was barely conscious of the exchange, eyes flickering here and there forsigns of danger.

Outwardly, Rhodes didn't take offense at Palimak's abuse. He guffawed, slapping a meaty palm against a thigh as thick as a pillar.

"What's the matter with you Kyranians?" he said. "Don't you like a good smell? A man's smell?" He frowned, pretending concern. "I worry about you, young prince. You bathe more than is healthy for you.

Why, if you aren't careful, you'll catch a chill and die on us. What a pity it would be for you to let out the ghost so young. Just when we're getting to know and love you."

Palimak grinned sarcastically. "And my gold," he said. "You seem to love that as well."

Rhodes' heavy brows beetled into a frown. Another buzz of anger went through the crowd. Leiria s.h.i.+fted, deliberately letting her chain mail rattle in warning.

A stranger to King Rhodes' court, Leiria reflected, would've thought Palimak's impertinence foolishness of the first order. After all, the two of them were the only Kyranians on the platform with the king. And that platform--the same one they'd seen from the air not long before--was surrounded by hundreds of the king's subjects, who filled the open courtyard from wall to wall.

It was certainly an intimidating mob. Like their king, they were filthy. Food stains spotted their garments, some of which were actually quite well-made beneath the dirt. They were a large people; even some of the women were nearly six feet tall. The men sported fierce tattoos on their faces and many of the women had sharp filed teeth. Leiria suppressed a shudder.

It was rumored that Rhodes and his subjects were cannibals, although there was no real evidence of this.

There was no doubt, however, that they collected the heads of their enemies. Many wore belts festooned with shrunken skulls, decorated with colorful ribbons worked into the hair.

At any other time this mob would have charged the platform and ripped Palimak and Leiria to shreds.

Leiria glanced upward. Circling overhead was the great airs.h.i.+p. Bowmen lined the rails, arrows fixed and ready to fire. They were magical arrows, specially constructed by Palimak--with the help of Gundaree and Gundara--to strike and horribly burn any target they hit.

These, plus the other spell weapons Biner and the crew were armed with, were the only things that kept Leiria and Palimak safe. Rhodes knew from painful experience that any threatening move on his part would bring instant and ma.s.sive retaliation from above.

Rhodes caught Leiria's glance and his eyes instinctively flickered upward, then back again. She noted a brief, uncontrollable twitch of fear.

Then the king recovered, placing a hairy paw of mock sincerity across his broad, mailed chest. "Here is the truth, young prince," he said to Palimak. "Spoken straight from this old heart. Despite our ... ahem ...

difficulties in the past, I now find myself thinking of you as the son I never had."

Leiria saw a dangerous glow in Palimak's eyes: she knew he was thinking of Safar and was offended by Rhodes' remark. Sometimes she almost forgot how young Palimak really was. And with youth came a quick and deadly temper.

She broke in before things took a bad turn. "Pardon, majesty," she said to Rhodes, "but there seems to be something missing here." She looked pointedly around the platform. "Such as the matter of the hostage we agreed upon."Rhodes turned surly. "What has this world come to?" he grumbled. "Not to trust the word of a Syrapian king! I see no reason for this hostage business. You have my personal pledge that this truce and all of its terms will stand."

"And one of the key requirements of those terms," Leiria said, "was that you would provide us with a hostage."

She turned to Palimak. "Apparently, King Rhodes still doesn't think we're serious, my lord," she said to him. "It's my advice that we leave now and allow him more time to reflect."

Palimak eyed the king. "Is that what you want?" he asked. "If you need more thinking time, I'm certainly ready to grant it. Meanwhile, the blockade will stand."

The blockade he was referring to was one of the main things that had forced Rhodes to the bargaining table. Coralean was at this moment standing off Rhodes' main port with a small but well-armed fleet of mercenary wars.h.i.+ps. Effectively bottling Rhodes' s.h.i.+ps up and cutting off all trade with the outside world.

Rhodes sighed heavily. "Very well," he said. "If you insist." He turned and rumbled orders to one of his aides.

A few moments later there was a loud yowl--like someone had just been foolish enough grab hold of a tiger's tail! This was followed by a firestorm of shrill curses and threats.

Palimak heard someone rail, "Get your hands off me, you sons of flea-ridden curs! I'll claw your filthy eyes from your heads and your lying tongues from your mouths!"

Then he gaped as two red-faced soldiers stumbled onto the platform, dragging a biting, kicking, scratching bundle of fury between them. The men's faces and arms were dripping blood from wounds they'd already suffered in the struggle.

It took Palimak a full minute to realize that it was a woman, not a howling animal, that they were hauling before the king.

And what a woman she was! Easily as tall as Leiria, sinuously muscular like a great cat, tawny hair like a lion's and glittering diamond-hard eyes. She was half naked--someone had obviously tried to force her to dress and she wasn't having any of it.