Darkness Weaves (29 page)

At length, Lages burst into the great hall, where he found the bulk of Kane's forces still engaged in a tense struggle with the last of the Pellinite guard. Shouting for vengeance, the Imperials attacked their allies of a moment gone.
Utter chaos enveloped the citadel as three forces locked in a battle to the death. In the confusion it became difficult to follow any one faction. For the combatants, it was sufficient to accept that any man not personally known to them was probably an enemy. Lages caught sight of Kane--battling at the head of the stairway to the balcony above the great hall. "Now I'll kill you, you prince of traitors!" Lages roared, and charged Kane. "You've hidden from death for the last time!"

One glance told Kane not to argue. "You crazy son of a bitch!" he growled, and met the youth's attack. "This is for what you did to M'Cori! And to Maril! And to the entire Empire!" Lages shouted, as he smashed blow after wild blow against Kane. But in Kane he had an opponent stronger than himself--and a better swordsman, as well. He was not able to wear down Kane's guard as he had done to Imel, nor could he force Kane to remain on the defensive.

Fighting silently, Kane knocked aside every slash, parried every thrust, backing Lages to the stairs. Kane was bleeding from several fresh cuts, and his injured right arm was beginning to throb agonizingly. Setting his teeth in a death's-head grin, Kane hurried to finish his assailant. Methodically he pressed his attack upon Lages, but the youth again and again eluded him. Anger and hysteria gave seemingly boundless strength to Lages, and he desperately fought toe to toe with Kane, taking Kane's steel on his shield, striking grimly with his own blade.

The end struck blindingly. Kane countered a vicious thrust--then feinted with the long dagger in his right hand. Lages swerved his shield to meet the dagger blade--for an instant he left an opening--and Kane hewed his broadsword into his adversary's right side. The blade slashed deep--cleaving through cuirass and bone. With a cry of mortal agony, Lages fell backward from the force of the blow, plummeted down the stairs and into blackness.

Kane watched Lages's body roll down the staircase, then turned to meet a new threat. The battle was too hot to waste time sorting out the puzzle. Killing the vengeful Imperial soldier nearest him, Kane wondered what could have happened to make Lages attack him. The matter defied logic.

A Pellinite leaped back to avoid Kane's sword thrust and was neatly skewered by Arbas. The assassin was also puzzled over the sudden reversal of Kane's well-laid plans, but his fighting skill had lost none of its professional polish. Grimly Arbas fought beside Kane, knowing that whatever strange twist fate had taken, Kane would be in at the finish.

"Kane!" The cry was a demand.

"What now?" wondered Kane--and whirled to face Oxfors Alremas.

"I've waited for this moment!" hissed the Pellinite lord. "I've known you for a treacherous pirate from the first. Well, Efrel knows that, too, now and it's a pity I've got to kill you instead of saving you for her vengeance. Still, this is one pleasure I'll share with no one--not even Efrel."

It was a fine speech, but Kane saved his own breath to reply with a flicker of killing steel.

The Pellinite fenced with amazing speed, fighting with catlike grace. Kane had to move fast to parry each thrust, and his right arm was rapidly becoming useless. Yet Alremas, had seldom faced a left-handed swordsman, and Kane's speed astounded him. He had thought such a big man would be slow and awkward. Relentlessly he found himself forced to give ground before Kane's attack. With unfaltering skill his opponent parried Alremas's every stroke.
Then, with a rush of exultation, Alremas saw his sword tip stab into Kane's thigh below the skirt of his hauberk. That should slow the devil down, he thought with a smile, lunging to press home his momentary advantage. It was the last enjoyment Alremas ever would know. Even as his smile broadened, Kane's sword deflected the thrusting blade, spun in a tight arc, and chopped through Alremas's, neck. The Pellinite lord dropped dead at his rival's feet, but his head fled away down the stairway.

Pressing his right hand to the wound in his thigh, Kane cursed and looked about him. In the interval while he and Alremas dueled atop the staircase, the remaining Pellinites all seemed to have fallen or fled, and the Imperials were steadily being wiped out by the survivors of Kane's force. Within the citadel, it would only be a matter of hunting down me fugitives. And things must be going well for his men outside, or Pellinite reinforcements would have swamped them by now. If nothing else, Lages's sudden change of heart had ultimately resulted in the destruction of the last Imperial forces.

Tying a bandage to his thigh, Kane smiled wearily. "Well, Arbas," he began, "it looks as if the Empire is mine at last."

The assassin rolled Alremas's head cautiously with his boot and nodded. The head nodded back at the prodding of his toe.

At that moment Kane felt an uncanny stiffness stealing over him. His muscles seemed to constrict, refuse to obey him. Was Alremas's sword a poisoned blade, Kane wondered in anguish.

Then he saw Arbas's consternation--saw that all about the blood-covered hall, fighters were halting in their combat. Everywhere, in the embattled citadel, soldiers felt an unnatural rigor seize their flesh, all power slip from their limbs, as their minds became prisoners within their own bodies.

With one tremendous effort, Kane forced his head to turn shout. Hi astonished eyes beheld a naked girl, completing a series of cryptic passes--M'Cori?

Consciousness returned to Lages through a haze of pain. Slowly he forced himself erect, wincing at the agony in his side. Kane's blade had driven deep, and Lages coughed blood. Several ribs were smashed, and his left arm seemed broken by the fall. He gazed around him in wonder. Except for a mountain of corpses, the great hall was empty.

How long had he been unconscious? Surely there must be someone around yet--someone must be victorious. The fighting must have moved elsewhere, Lager decided. He wondered bleakly if Kane yet lived. The dead on the floor told him that his own men had suffered serious losses.

Bending painfully, Lager picked up his fallen sword. "Got to find M'Cori!" his pain-fogged brain told him, and he repeated to the dead. He forced himself to walk. His steps were dream-like; his legs seemed numb and apart from the rest of him. Remembering that he had told M'Cori to hide in the lower levels, Lages started walking in that direction.

The corridors seemed to be endless. Door after door Lages passed, calling M'Cori's name weakly. Only the dead returned his searching gaze. He passed by the corpse of Imel; the ruined face glared at him accusingly. On and on he staggered through the black stone maze. Were none but the dead left to challenge him?
Then it seemed to Lages that he could hear M'Cori's voice. He listened bewilderedly. It was so hard to listen, to concentrate--even to breathe. But there again came the sound. He felt sure it wasn't delirium. From far below, he seemed to hear the sound of M'Cori's voice.

A black doorway yawned from the wall before him. Yes. It was from here that her voice arose. Gripping his sword tightly, Lages entered the doorway and started down the long dark stairs.

The stairs went on forever, and Lages began to believe he would never see the end. But the voice grew stronger, so he forced himself onward. Then, quite illogically, the infinite stairway came to an end. Lages found himself standing on a low balcony, with wide steps leading down to the floor of a fantastic cavern.

There was a huge black pool, and standing all around were a few hundred soldiers. It was strange the way they just stood there--like so many statues, Lages decided. Then he recognized with astonishment that the soldiers were both his men and Kane's. Yes! There was Kane himself--and with him was Efrel.

But the greatest shock of all came to Lages when he beheld M'Cori--pacing back and forth before the eerily motionless figures. What could it mean? Had M'Cori somehow captured all these warriors? The scene was altogether incredible. In dreamy bewilderment, Lages started to call out to M'Cori.

Then the words she spoke penetrated into his consciousness.

"Ah, Kane! If you could only have seen how surprised you looked, when you felt my little spell stealing away your strength! Now here you stand--with all those traitors who followed you. Completely helpless, unable to walk or even nod your head, except at my command. Remember those others you have seen under my spell? Remember their fate? Won't it be delightful to stand there utterly helpless like this, when he Scylredi come for you? Just like in the nightmare, when you vent to run, to scream but can't. Didn't you once describe the spell in such words? And now you will have the added sophistication of knowing how this nightmare will end."

She laughed in cruel triumph. "And haven't you any words to praise my new body? Beautiful, isn't it? I haven't had the heart to cover it yet. It was so kind of you, dear M'Cori, to give me, your body. I'm sure your father would be amazed at your generosity. A pity Maril never lived to see my vengeance completed. But I haven't asked you how well you like your new body. Speak to me--pretty, pretty M'Cori!"

"Can't you just kill me and be done?" came the hopeless response from the mutilated form.

Efrel sneered. "What? You want death so soon? Stupid little bitch! I begged your father for a quick, clean death--and look what mercy he showed me! What a disappointment I can't arrange for you to savour the thrill of being dragged by a bull through a jeering city! But there's not much left on those bones to maim further--is there, M'Cori?

"Well, I have the body of the beautiful M'Cori now!" she exulted. "And you'll have to be content with the maimed one your father gave to me? At any event, if it's death you wish, you won't have long to wait. The Scylredi will soon be here to feed. I give you freedom. I'll let you decide whether to dine with the Scy1redi--or live yet a while in your new body."

Slowly understanding dawned on Lages. To his tortured mind came the realization that somehow Efrel had stolen his beloved's body. A crime monstrous beyond imagination had been perpetrated by the sorceress. Cobwebs of delirium melted, and he saw things clearly. Strength suddenly flowed back into his frame. The pain was gone.

With a hoarse shout of "Efrel!" Lages jumped from the low balcony and raced for the malevolent creature who masqueraded as M'Cori.

Efrel whirled in amazement as the blood-smeared swordsman charged toward her. She raised her hand to cast the spell that had trapped her odor enemies--the spell that gave her power over all who entered her fortress. There was no time to halt the vengeful specter.

Lages plunged his sword into the breast of the body he had loved--impaled the desecrated beauty on cold steel.

Efrel screamed as bright blood spurted from the wound. Her fingers tore futilely at the blade. Her eyes blazed with intense concentration, then momentarily went blank.

And Lages looked into the eyes of the girl he loved. Escaping the dying shell, Efrel had reversed the psychic bonds, returned to her own body--and returned M'Cori's soul to her violated flesh.

"Lages... thank you... I..."

The weak voice trailed off, and Lages looked into dead eyes once more.

He started to cry out her name. But the words were choked, as a great rush of blood filled his throat and the last flame of strength failed. Lages fell lifeless over M'Cori's body.

The interval had lasted only a matter of seconds. But it had been sufficient to break the full concentration of Efrel's spell. With a mind trained in studies of the supernatural, Kane fought to escape the weakened enchantment. Summoning up every ultimate reserve of his psychic energy, Kane forced his lips to obey his will. Slowly he croaked the words of the counterspell that he had learned in centuries of delving into the black arts. If only he had correctly identified Efrel's secret spell...

The spell snapped, and Kane was free. Around him the others began to shake off their trance.

But on the floor the twisted body of the sorceress was stirring. In its old flesh, Efrel's spirit was quickly resuming control. Her eyes flashed open in a blaze of insane hatred. Rising to her feet before the stuporous soldiers, she opened her mouth to cast her spell again.

With lightning speed, Kane snatched a spear from the grip of a soldier whose hand had never received the command to release it. Before Efrel could utter a syllable of he spell, he cast the spear straight through her heart.

The force of impact threw the sorceress backward onto the floor. She writhed upon the black stones like an impaled serpent, clawing at the spear that pierced her maimed flesh. Her strength failed.

Efrel uttered a last hideous shriek: "Father!" Then crimson laughter sprayed from her lips, and came no more.

Then came a final horror to surpass all that had transpired. As Efrel's mutilated body fell back in death, its outlines began to blur. The arms lost their joints, the fingers foreshortened. The head retreated into the trunk, as mouth and nose parted into a gaping hole, while ruined eyes grew round and white. Skin color darkened, and glistening slime oozed across the bloated hide. The mutilated legs grew boneless and attentuated. Before their eyes, the corpse of Efrel began to assume the maimed form of a Scylred.

Shaking the numbness from his brain, Kane seized one of the great oil lamps. He lifted the huge copper vessel on high--then brought it smashing down upon the transforming corpse. A flood of flaming oil engulfed the half-human, half-Scylred abomination. Clouds of putrid smoke steamed up from the crackling pyre.

At that same instant--Efrel's last cry still an echoing ghost-the black pool erupted with Scylredi. Scores of them had been summoned to the sacrifice. Now the feast began. The sea demons reached out and seized those nearest to the pool's edge, pulling them down into the black water. Yet in the grip of the horror they had endured, the soldiers were too slow in recognizing the doom that had come to claim them.

"Get back!" shouted Kane. Dragging the dazed Arbas with him, he hurtled toward the stairway.