Timura Trilogy - The Gods Awaken Part 36

"No sign of Safar?" Jooli asked, praying that her guess was wide of the mark.

Leiria shook her head--so much for the power of prayer.

"Not a trace," she said. "I couldn't find a clue about what happened."

She hesitated, frowning. "Except for one small thing. And maybe I'm just a drowning woman grabbing at straws. But I did find some dead b.u.t.terflies on the trail. Hundreds of them. At the very spot where he vanished."

Sergeant Hammer said, "That don't seem right. Ain't seen a b.u.t.terfly since we walked into this G.o.dsforsaken forest. And I got pretty sharp eyes."

He turned to the other soldiers. "How about you men? Seen any b.u.t.terflies lately?" All the soldiers said they hadn't.

Jooli's eyes lit up with excitement at Leiria's news. "Show me," she said to her friend.

Leiria led them all back to the place where Safar had been seen last. She took the precaution of posting the men on both sides of the curving trail so they couldn't be taken unaware.

Jooli, meanwhile, was studying the heaps of dead b.u.t.terflies. After she got over the surprise of their numbers, the first thing she noticed was the amazing variety of colors.

In her experience, b.u.t.terfly swarms were always composed of the same shade. And if there were differences, they were so minor that they went almost unnoticed.

She started to sort them by color--reds, blues, greens and so on. Which was when she came upon her second discovery. No two seemed to be quite the same! b.u.t.terflies that were mainly blue might have touches of orange, or purple or red. While those that were red might be tinged or spotted with green, or brown or yellow.

And the more the she tried to break down the colors further, the more it became apparent that each individual b.u.t.terfly was startlingly different from the others.

"If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn't have believed it possible," Leiria said after Jooli had demonstrated her discovery.

"It isn't," Jooli said. "Except through magic."

"Surely either you or Safar would have noticed if someone had cast a spell," Leiria said. "Safar's always told me that he can, well, feel it happening. Like the hackles going up on the back of his neck, or something."

Jooli nodded agreement, saying, "When Safar and I first entered the jungle we both cast spells to alert us to sorcerous danger."

She sighed. "Except we both agreed that since we didn't know what we were up against, the spells might not do us much good."

Jooli grimaced. "But this was a complete failure!" she went on. "I've never experienced anything like that!""Apparently, neither had Safar," Leiria said. "And yet it happened."

As the hopelessness of the situation sank its barbs deeper into them, Leiria was overcome by angry frustration. "By all that's holy," she said, "when I find out who is responsible for this, I'll spill their guts on the ground and serve up them up on a platter!"

"There's a slim chance," Jooli said, "that I might be able to grant your wish."

"How?" Leiria asked.

"By recreating the spell," Jooli said.

Leiria eyes burned with fury. "Then do it!" she demanded. "Show me this villain's face!"

"That's exactly my intention," Jooli said.

And she immediately got busy with her preparations.

First, she swept all the b.u.t.terflies into a large pile. Then she spread her cloak out on the ground and upended her witch's pouch so that she could sort through the contents. As she worked, Leiria paced next to her like an angry she cat.

To calm her friend, and also to relieve her own tension, Jooli talked while she worked.

"When I was a girl learning the basics of magic from my grandmother," she said, "the whole thing seemed like such a huge, complex mystery that it was a long time before I could do even the simplest spell."

Jooli smiled, reflecting. "But my grandmother was a very patient woman," she said. "And an excellent teacher. Strange, isn't it? That even someone as evil as she is could still have good qualities?"

Leiria snorted. "Reminds me of a certain king I used to know," she said. "Iraj Protarus! King of Kings.

Brutal lord of all he surveyed. And yet, he was a dreamer once. A man of good intentions, I think. And sometimes he could be quite gentle and forgiving."

She sighed. "It was greed that changed him. Not greed for money, but for power. And a man who thinks like that can't understand others might not want the same thing. That's why he ended up hating Safar so much. He couldn't believe that Safar--who in many ways had once shared his vision--had never ceased being a dreamer."

Jooli laughed. "Similar to my grandmother," she said, "but not quite the same. I think she caught the greed disease while still in her mother's womb."

Leiria shuddered. "It almost makes me feel sorry for her," she said.

Jooli looked up at her. "Don't," she said. "That's another thing she's good at. Making people feel sorry for her so she can gain the upper hand."

Then she returned to her work, choosing certain little packets and vials and putting them aside.

"Anyway, I was talking about the complexity of magic," she said. "What my grandmother taught was that witchcraft was really quite simple and logical. Almost childishly so. In fact, sometimes it helps to think like a child and not let adult narrow-mindedness infect you."

She got out a small cup and started measuring various powders and liquids into it. "The first thing I learned was to truly imagine a thing. Which isn't that difficult for a young girl. It was easy to imagine afavorite doll in every detail. Or a sweet I particularly liked.

"And it was also easy to imagine things I dreamed of being able to do. Like winning the affections of a handsome boy. Or beating a bully in a wrestling match."

Leiria laughed. "I should have been born a witch," she said. "Bullies are easy. I've whacked more than my share. But I've yet to unravel the mysteries of the male race!"

"It wouldn't have helped," Jooli said, sharing her laughter. "When it comes to men, witches are no better at it than normal women."

Briefly forgetting her worries, Leiria asked. "What was the next thing you learned?"

"The Law of Cause And Effect," Jooli replied as she began mixing the foul-smelling brew in her witch's cup. "Which means, quite simply, every effect has a cause and every cause has an effect. Fire makes heat. So if the effect you want is fire, you only have magically to cause heat."

She indicated the cup. "If I added a drop or two of a certain elixir I have," she said, "we'd get an enormous bonfire." She wiped sweat from her brow. "Although in this awful humidity I don't know why we'd want to."

Gingerly, Jooli poured the mixture into a small clay vial, then plugged it with a little cork stopper.

"And that elixir I mentioned," she said, "leads to the next law of magic. Which is: Like Produces Like.

The elixir is made from the root of a plant whose flowers are fiery red and look quite like flame. Also, the root itself is quite hot to the taste.

"Long ago some clever witch figured out that if it looked like fire and behaved like fire it might be the perfect thing to cause the effect of fire."

"It sounds easy," Leiria said. "Although there must be more to it than that. Otherwise anybody could be a witch."

"The theory is simple," Jooli said. "But the practice requires a special gift you are either born with or not.

Also, only a few witches have really good imaginations. Which is the most important secret of magic.

"You have to be able to imagine a thing in perfect detail--break it down into all its parts and put it back together again--before you can achieve your goal."

"What about prayer?" Leiria asked. "Most people believe that if you pray to the G.o.ds and they favor you, miracles can be performed."

"Most people are also deluded fools, my friend," Jooli said. "Because if you are depending on prayer for rescue, you might as well call in the dogs to urinate on the fire for all the good it'll do you."

Leiria nodded. "Safar's of the same opinion," she said. "Except he thinks the G.o.ds are asleep and not paying attention. And even if they were awake, he doubts if they'd care."

Leiria's worries flooded back with the mention of Safar's name. "What about this witch?" she asked, pointing at the dead b.u.t.terflies. "How good do you think she is?"

"Actually, I think we're dealing with a male witch," Jooli said. "I'm only guessing, of course. But my guesses are usually accurate.

"As for his powers, I can't say. His spell was clever enough. He trapped Safar and probably Palimak toowith it. On the other hand, this jungle is his home. And even a very weak witch--or wizard--is hard to beat in his own home."

Leiria slapped her sheathed sword. "Then it is my wish and fondest imagination," she said, "that when we encounter this fellow it will be blades, not magic, that'll win the day. And I'm not boasting when I say I've met only one swordsman in my life who could best me.

"Except that was long ago and I've had a great deal of practice killing people since then. So I don't think it'd come out quite the same way."

Jooli's eyebrows arched. "Iraj Protarus again?" she guessed.

Leiria nodded sharply. "The very same," she replied.

"I'd like to see that fight," Jooli said.

Leiria smiled, but without humor. "Consider yourself invited," she said.

Jooli rose, saying, "Enough girl talk. Let's find out what sort of stuff this witch is made of."

She went to the piled-up b.u.t.terflies and placed the clay vial in the center. Next she got Leiria to help her surround the colorful ma.s.s with dry sticks, carefully placing them in the shape of a pentagram.

Then she stood and dusted herself off. "If this works," she said, "we'll only have a few seconds to act."

"I'll get the men ready," Leiria said.

Jooli shook her head. "The original spells trapped two people," she said. "We'll have to strike the same balance. So I'm afraid it's down to just you and me against whatever is waiting."

"That sounds like d.a.m.n good odds to me," Leiria joked.

She called for the soldiers and filled them in on their plan. They were all disappointed at being left out of the fight. But Leiria cajoled them, stroking their egos, and told them how vital it was for them to remain here and stand guard.

"Ah, then we're expectin' more action, right?" Sergeant Hamyr said, pleased.

Leiria clapped him on the back. "Count on it," she said.

Then she joined Jooli at the pentagram.

"Ready?" Jooli asked, drawing her sword.

Leiria nodded and drew her own. "Ready," she replied.

And so Jooli cast the spell.

A sheet of flame shot up, momentarily blinding them. Then the flame shattered in a soundless explosion.

Bursting into thousands upon thousands of fiery bits of color. It was like all the rainbows in the world had been gathered together, then smashed apart with a giant's hammer.

Slowly an enormous face formed within the hot shower of color.

It was the face of a lion. His huge cat's eyes glared at them. And then he roared.Leiria and Jooli shouted their war cries and charged!

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT.

SLAY GROUND.

Safar stood frozen in the center of the arena as his own son rushed toward him--a spear aimed directly at his heart.

The arena thundered with the shouts of a savage audience urging Palimak to "Kill, kill, kill! Kill Safar Timura!" Underscoring the wild, blood-demanding chorus was the marrow-freezing roar of a mighty lion.

Caught on the horns of a nightmare dilemma, Safar was helpless to act.

The cold, outraged wizard side of him commanded self protection at any cost. Automatically digging for the ultimate, death-dealing spell to cut Palimak down in his tracks.

But in the place where all love dwells another part of him demanded the ultimate parental sacrifice--to die so that his son might live.

And then, from the narrow gulf between death and survival, came yet a third, most desperate voice: Kill him, brother! cried the voice. Kill him or all we worked for together is lost!

Safar had the sudden vision of a world strangling in its own poisons. Of corpses heaped to the heavens.

Of seas turned into barren deserts littered with bleached white bones. Of howling devils fighting to suck out the last bit of marrow from life itself.

And with that vision came the nearly overpowering urge to slay his son. Ghostly commands shot through his body making his nerves and muscles twitch in reflex.

The killing spell flooded into his mind unbidden--numbing his will to resist.

Palimak was almost on him. So close Safar could hear Gundara crying, "Stop, Little Master, stop!"

But the boy ran onward, eyes burning with murderous hate.

The heavy spear blade was only inches from Safar's heart. At the same time his killing spell coiled like a hissing cobra, ready to launch.

He had no doubt which would strike first. In less time than it took for a heart to beat, Palimak would be lying dead at his feet. And Safar would be standing over him, the bitter victor.