Darkness Weaves (22 page)

Kane laughed bitterly. "It's a game I play. An old game with an old enemy. And tonight I find I grow weary of it."

He was on his feet and through the door before they quite realized he was moving. They scrambled after him, following his mordant laughter through the darkness.

Under sail, the Ara-Teving stabbed her bronze ram through the black waves of the Sorn-Ellyn. Half a mile to her starboard, the bleak cliffs of Pellin's northern coast thrust into the star-flecked night. A scatter of fish-scale clouds drifted high across the lonely: moon. The trireme had sailed from Prisarte that dawn. Nightfall found the Ara-Teving cutting across the unfathomed waters of the Sorn-Ellyn.

"This is the place," Efrei told Kane.

The Ara-Teving lost headway as Kane gave the order to take in sail. The trireme drifted slowly in the thin wind. Efrel, bundled in a hooded cloak of ermine, made her way to the prow and stood there silently at the rail, staring out across the jet-black sea.

Arbas followed her gaze. "So this is where were to meet our new allies," he remarked dubiously. "When you told me what Efrel had in mind, I was startled that you would accept at face value the ravings of a madwoman. Now that I'm out here, I'm not so skeptical. Were it not for the black line of cliffs off there, I'd swear we were adrift on the seas of hell. No wonder even the Pellinites shun these waters!"

"The bottom of the sea here is as close to the floor of hell as you'll ever see in this life," Kane murmured. "As for the Scylredi and their giant pets, they still haunt these waters--make no doubt. We've already seen evidences of their presence--during our flight from the Lartroxian coast, and later in Prisarte. What I find astonishing is that Efrel claims the Scylredi still have functional seacraft after untold millennia. The prehuman races created strange machines and weapons through their knowledge of alien technology, but I haven't seen a functional relic of Elder Earth in... Well, in a long time."

Arbas, who in his university days had come across only a few vague allusions to the races of Elder Earth--an age now lost in the veils of myth--declined to press Kane for details. "I see crumbling piles of basalt that Efrel claims were once Scylredi fortresses," he commented. "How can anything mechanical outlast columns of basalt?"

"My thought as well," Kane mused. "If the seacraft were built at the close of the age, as was Dan-Legeh, and maintained carefully over the eons--who can say what is possible or impossible when we speak of the science of Elder Earth? We know far more of our own black sorceries than of prehuman science."

Kane frowned and went on. "There is another possibility. I had wondered why Efrel sought me out to lead her rebellion, and why she waited so long to tell me of her secret alliance."

Imel, who had been listening in gloomy silence, broke in: "Presumably for a number of good reasons. First, Efrel needs a human navy and invasion force. Second, she needed an immediate defense against Maril's retaliation once the Emperor learned of the plot--as she knew he must. Third, she needed a smashing initial victory to swing support to her cause. Finally, the Scylredi demanded some convincing show of strength on Efrel's part, before they chose to interfere in human wars.

"Good," Kane grinned. "Exactly as Efrel has told me--along with the fact that time was needed for the Scy1redi to devise a means by which they and their creatures could distinguish our vessels from the Imperial fleet. It all fits."

"Then what's bothering you?" Imel wanted to know. "Suppose these aren't relics from prehuman earth that the Scylredi intend to use," Kane said. "Suppose these are new seacraft that the Scylredi have been constructing to aid Efrel--and that they weren't ready until just now."

Arbas glanced quickly at Kane's brooding face. "Go on."

"If that guess is correct," Kane suggested, "then we know that the Scylredi still have some measure of their ancient knowledge and power. And after untold millennia, Efrel has somehow persuaded them to use this power to intervene in human affairs."

He paused, staring across the jet-black sea. "I wonder whether, having called the Scylredi forth, Efrel will find them less willing to return to their lost realm" Efrel's glad shout cut short his speculation.

"They come!"

The trireme's hull seemed to reverberate with a high-pitched humming from far below. Crewmen looked at one another uneasily. Men shouted and pointed out to sea.

The black waters of the Sorn-Ellyn boiled and heaved. And the Ara-Teving no longer floated alone on the sea.

There were four of them, and they rose up out of the water like a school of gigantic black whales, circling about the Ara-Teving. Only no whales had ever existed to match the size of these metallic leviathans, nor could any creature of the sea swim with their blurring speed. A cry of astonishment and of fear went up from the crew. Kane felt a soaring thrill--how long had it been since he had seen a marvel to compare with this?

The Scylredi seacraft were perhaps three times the length of Kane's flagship, although not much broader than the trireme's hull at its widest. Their shape was basically that of an elongated teardrop--ovoid toward the bow and tapering to a point at the stern. Arranged like a crown at the pointed stern, a ring of ovoid protrusions emanated a pale-green glow. Steam rose in a trailing vapor from the lambent cluster--each unit perhaps ten feet in length, and constructed either of near-opaque crystal or semi-translucent metal. At regular intervals along the sloping metal hulls were positioned other conical or ovoid protuberances--these black and apparently lifeless. Otherwise, the Scylredi submarines were featureless.

For a moment the four metallic leviathans hovered upon the surface. Although the crew had been warned what to expect, the appearance of these alien seacraft left every man of them shaken and afraid. Then--as effortlessly as a shark turns for its prey--the submarines accelerated and sped out across the waves, leaving the Ara-Teving shuddering in their backwash. Streaking at a level just below the waves, the submarines tore through the sea--silent, save for the roar of cleft water and the uncanny drone of their engines. Kane could follow their lightning-fast course by the glow of their propulsive units. He roughly estimated their speed to be in excess of sixty knots. From the jet of steam that spewed from their wakes, he guessed that considerable heat was being generated by their engines.

Out across the Sorn-Ellyn, until their pallid green wakes dwindled and vanished. Kane waited. As suddenly as before--the whining hum from the depths, the upheaval of black water--the Scylredi seacraft once again breached the waves about the awe-stricken humans and their puny wooden ship.

"Look now, Kane!" came Efrel's shrill cackle.

Kane felt his hair tingle--as in the instant before a lightning storm closes.

Near the bow of one of the alien seacraft, a conical protrusion suddenly glowed into violet incandescence. From this cone of lurid brilliance, a bolt of crackling energy lashed forth to play across the basalt cliffs of the half-mile-distant shoreline. The beam of energy struck the headland--and instantly trees and vegetation flared into roaring flame, rocks splintered and shattered.

In another second all four submarines had opened fire--coruscant bolts of energy lancing forth from the turrets spaced along their black hulls. The flames of hell burst forth from the night, where the fury of their ravening bolts struck the cliff. The sea rose in gouts of shrieking steam, as red-hot masses of basalt crumbled away in a semi-molten avalanche and crashed into the hissing surf below. The stunted forest was ablaze in one instant, white-hot ash in the next. Across a hundred-foot section of shoreline, it was as if a purple-flamed volcano had suddenly erupted.

As abruptly as it began, the barrage of violent energy ceased. Kane let his breath out and realized he had been holding it throughout. His vision was dazzled from the storm of destroying lightning. Against the coastline, a sullen red wound glowed through the haze of steam and smoke.

The crew were too stunned to feel panic. This was just as well.

"Look now, Kane!" Efrel howled. "Look again!" Kane followed the sorceress's triumphant gesture. The four Scylredi craft had moved out from the Ara-Teving and now formed a square. Kane stared at the square of black water in their midst.

A gasp went up from the crew.

Rising from the waves now, looping black tentacles lashed through the air and slapped spitefully at the submarine hulls. The sea convulsed--and then a titanic writhing mass of tentacles thrashed forth from the sea. For an instant, an immense bloated bulk lurched above the surface. Kane had a fleeting impression of a central body as enormous as the largest whale, of impossible lengths of coiling tentacles whose girth was more than a man might reach around, of a huge gnashing beak that might crush a warship's hull as effortlessly as a parrot cracks an almond, of pallid eyes as wide as an open doorway that stared back at lira with malevolent intelligence.

The monstrosity from earth's dawn breached, then plunged beneath the inky waves. Kane knew then that the Oraycha was fully as terrible as legend had portrayed the monster to be. And Kane knew he was glad it was gone. It gave him a chill to think of such a creature lurking in the depths beneath the Ara-Teving. He wondered whether the Scylredi could keep such a beast under control...

In another moment the Scylredi submarines had vanished as well. The Ara-Teving drifted alone on the sea once more-with a panicstricken crew and only a dying red glow from the smouldering shoreline to prove all had not been an insane nightmare.

Efrel threw back her head in laughter. The ermine hood fell back, and Kane looked upon the face of nightmare, howling at a pallid moon.

"Get the men moving!" Kane snapped to Imel. "Let's get out of these waters before the shock wears off."

"What do you think now, Kane?" Efrel exulted. "Did I lie? You asked to be shown, and did I not show you? Do you still fear Netisten Maril and his fleet? Do you still doubt that Efrel commands powers beyond the frightened dreams of mankind?"

"But do you command this power?" Kane wondered aloud.

Light was dim in M'Cori's bedchamber. The faint candle glow fell softly on the two figures who lay together on her bed, where M'Cori lovingly caressed Lages's hard-muscled back. He lay there quietly, resting for the moment and enjoying the soothing movements of her hands. Lages gave a contented sigh. "Indolent brute!" M'Cori exclaimed, and teasingly slapped him across his buttocks. He grabbed her roughly and pulled the soft, giggling girl against him. The fastenings of her gown had been loosened earlier in their embraces, and as they kissed, Lages drew it down from her shoulders. She made a low sound in her throat and snuggled against his bare chest. After a moment, she giggled and playfully pushed him away. "What liberties do you presume, cad!" she cried, mimicking a role from a romantic drama. "It seems you take a lady's favors too lightly. Would you ruin me?"

Jumping into the act, Lages struck an affected pose-somewhat unsteadily after the wine they had enjoyed-and declaimed: "Ah, fair lady! Spurn not my advances! It reflects but the undying ardor of a poor soldier about to face death in battle!"

M'Cori gasped and fell back upon the pillows. Her face was pale as she dug her fist against her mouth and bit down on the knuckles to hold back the tears.

Lages cursed himself for his oafishness. Damn it! Always saying the wrong thing! She was trying so hard to forget--to find lighthearted refuge from the tension of the gathering conflict--and he had to remind her. The past months had been hard for her, he knew. For all her infectious gaiety, she was at heart fragile as a child. At times Lages feared he would break her with his coarse hands and rough manner.

He touched one naked shoulder and turned her to him. Her sea-green eyes were filled with tears again, but she looked at him and uttered no cry. "You'll never come back," she said softly. "I know it."

Lages laughed and shook her gently. "M'Cori, M'Cori! This is so silly! You said the same thing the last time, remember? And this time there will be much less risk. We know what Kane's tactics are, and we know how to face them. Why, we've even fitted some of our warships with catapults like his. And we'll have, the rebels overwhelmingly outnumbered.

"I won't even be in command," he added, not without considerable chagrin. "Your father is commanding this fleet himself." He noted with satisfaction that M'Cori felt no such concern for her father. Maril had never warmed toward his daughter, for all his fond words.

Her hair was in disorder, and coils of blond tresses had fallen across her breasts. Lages lifted back each strand with a cautious finger. The pain was going from her eyes now. There was hidden strength beneath her delicate appearance.

"Remember your prophecy, M'Cori," he prompted, feeling the pulse of her heart upon his fingertips. "You aren't going to give up on that, after you've kept faith this long, are you?"

M'Cori's face was dreamy. "So long ago," she mused. "I wonder if that woman really was a priestess of Lato." Color had returned to her face now. Her lips were half-parted.

He looked down at her pale beauty reflected in the candlelight. "When we are man and wife, you'll have to grow accustomed to my absences whenever the Empire is threatened."

She looked up at him in resignation. "Let's live for now," she whispered, and reached for him.

The giant oil lamps blazed brightly in an effort to dispel the inky darkness of the subterranean chamber. Their harsh, glaring light illuminated a scene as ghastly as any the chamber had witnessed in many centuries.

Kane stood beside Efrel in the shadows and watched as a nervous guard of trusted soldiers escorted a party of prisoners into the hidden chamber. The prisoners, some sixty men who had been captured during the battle of three months previous, were unbound; but made no move to escape. Instead, they marched with stiff, wooden legs, their faces frozen in masks of absolute hopelessness. Caught in Efrel's paralytic spell, they were powerless to control their movements as they marched inexorably to their doom. Like mindless robots, the Imperials were drawn by the witch's mental commands into the chamber. The fear in their eyes grew deeper as they helplessly stepped ever closer to their fate. The cause of their anguish could be found in the black pool of water toward which they were being lured by invisible tethers.