Lords of Destruction (14 page)

The boy waited until dusk, but she did not come out, so he raced home. But he
was late for supper, so his father sent him to bed without his meat or milk. For
a long time he stayed awake in the loft listening to the night, and was still
awake when all others in the house slept. There was an ache in his heart and a
trembling in his cheeks. He was thinking of the girl, and he could think of
nothing else. She made him feel as he had never felt before, as if all things
were now possible, and he was certain his small body was not nearly large enough
to house the dreams of wonder and adventure that now soared within it. Later, he
did sleep, and in his dreams he stormed castle walls, swung from vines and
galloped to the rescue of a faceless dark-haired girl. The glory of her
overwhelmed him, and when he came awake, he found himself crying and sobbing
with such happiness that he had to hide his head under his pillow so that his parents would not hear.

The next day he returned to the place where the wagon had been parked. It was
not there, and no one knew where it had gone, or if it would ever return. The
boy fled back to the field of tall brown grass and hid there the rest of the
day, alternately sobbing and dreaming, and certain he would never see her again.

Brown John came awake with a start, and found himself clutching the icon to
his chest. He was still in the cave, and the sun still streamed down through the
same hole, but he felt as if he had slept through a long night. He took a deep
shuddering breath and looked down at the black doll far more carefully than he
had earlier.

It appeared more normal now, just a crudely sculpted lump of black rock that
was supposed to represent a strikingly good-looking goddess, but in actuality
looked like nothing more than an overweight, bald savage.

He chuckled, then in a gruff manly voice, said to the doll, “Behave, woman,
I’m doing you a favor,” and stuffed it inside his tunic.

It was dusk when Gath caught up with the wagon as it rolled west along the
Way of Chains. Seeing him approach, Brown John reined up, halting the vehicle on
the narrow cliffside trail. Cobra, sitting beside the
bukko,
turned in
her seat to greet the Barbarian, and Robin and Jakar got out of the wagon.

Gath reined up on Cobra’s side of the wagon and spoke to the
bukko.

“Nobody has missed it! We are not followed.”

The group expressed relief, and Brown John grinned with triumph at Cobra.
“You see, Black Veshta has not been offended by my touch. In fact, I think she
likes it.”

Cobra smiled reservedly, and Gath, in a harsh impatient tone, asked, “Is it
truly the map? Can you read it?”

“Indeed it is,” said Brown John, grinning approval at Cobra. “She’s gone over
it carefully with me.” He removed the black statuette from his tunic and pointed
at a spot on the conelike base. “When we reach the end of the Way of Chains, we
should be approximately here. Then we move northwest over dunes.” His finger
followed a line winding over the cone’s undulating surface to the knees emerging
from it. “Somewhere here, we’ll find the river called Staboulle. It may have
changed its course slightly, but we’ll find it soon enough. Then we travel along
the river, directly west.” His finger rode up the depression between the icon’s
legs to the groin, and tapped the pubic region. “There, at the junction of the
two rivers, is a caravansary, En Sakalda.” His finger wandered over the belly.
“From there, we take the Way of the Scorpion across a wilderness Of lava beds
called the Belly of Black Veshta until we come to a mountain range, the Breasts
of Black Veshta, then take the pass between them.” His finger slid between the
cleavage to the throat. “About here we’ll reach the Inland Sea, and the giant
rock which supports Pyram.”

Gath nodded his satisfaction and put his hard eyes on Cobra. The color
promptly drained from her face, and she pulled away from him. His hand grabbed
her by the upper arm and dragged her struggling and protesting out of the
driver’s box, threw her to the ground. She landed in an awkward sprawl, grunting
painfully. Her body instinctively tried to rise, but her head sagged dizzily
against the earth, blood draining from temple and lip.

The
bukko
leapt up in the box, shouting, “What are you doing?” Jakar
and Robin, startled and alarmed, moved to help Cobra, but Gath’s glare stopped
them.

“Get back in the wagon,” he said, and turned to Brown John. “You ride ahead,
I’ll catch up.”

“Hold on a moment!” Brown John blurted. “Let’s not be hasty, Gath.” He
scrambled down from the driver’s box and kneeled over Cobra, his hands cradling
her heaving body. Then he looked up at Gath and added, “We still need her. She’s
the only one who can read the map, and we still need to know the distances and
turns in the trail.”

“We’ll find a native to do that!”

“Perhaps, in time, we could. But it could cause delays, and since she’s been
tremendously helpful, and given us no indication that she can’t be trusted, I
think she deserves to be allowed to continue with us. Besides, we gave our
word.”

“Yes,” said Robin, pushing forward.

Gath did not look at her. He said coldly, “She’s a serpent. When it suits
her, she will betray us.”

He dismounted, and Brown John said, “Your point is well taken, friend, but it
is also my point. Her nature can also be an asset to us. She has walked the very
corridors of-evil we seek to penetrate, she has looked upon the secrets within
their shadows, and she knows their mysteries, the natures of Pyram’s demon
spawn, their disguises, forms, powers. We are going to need her help to find
where the jewels are held. Besides, we have no time to find someone who can read
the map.”

Gath’s eyes became wary.

Brown John held up the black doll. “According to this map, it could be, not
four or five days, but eight or nine before we see the castle’s walls. That
means you’ll have to control the hungers that headpiece has planted inside you
twice as long as you thought.”

“Do not worry about me, bukko.”

“On the contrary, I must worry about everything.”

Cobra half rose, and Brown John helped her to her feet. She straightened
slightly and looked up under her arched eyes at Gath, blood spidering over her
cheek. It was a more than appropriate cosmetic for the expression on her face.
When she spoke, her voice was low and controlled.

“If you are going to kill me, Dark One, I suggest you use your hands. It will
give the helmet far more pleasure… and give you an idea of how it will feel
when the helmet’s hungers overwhelm your pride and you put them around Robin’s
neck.”

Robin gasped sharply and withdrew behind Jakar’s shoulder, her eyes on Gath.

Gath again took no notice and said to Brown John, “You are growing soft,
friend. A month ago, she would have killed us all if she’d had the chance.”

“I agree,” Brown John said evenly, “but she’s changed. She’s human now, just
like the rest of us.” His eyes held Gath’s, refusing to release them. “Listen to
me, friend. There is more to this quest than you or I understand. There are
hidden powers at play, and if they have brought us this far, it would be madness
to alter the cast now. Utter folly.”

Gath stared coldly at Brown John for a moment, then nodded reluctantly. “I
cannot follow your fancy twaddle, old friend, but if you believe it, I will
accept that and allow her to live… under one condition.” He removed a chain
from his saddlebags and handed it to Brown John. “Keep her chained to your belt,
night and day, or she dies.”

Sometime later, as the wagon rolled down the western side of the mountains,
the sand dunes came into view. Beyond them the sun was setting, flooding the sky
with sweeping blankets of oranges and pinks. Cobra, sitting beside Brown John in
the driver’s box, stared silently ahead, her beautiful face thrust regally into
the dying light. A chain was attached to the belt spanning her narrow waist. It
wound down over her fleshly thigh and across the seat to an iron loop on Brown
John’s belt. Her fingers fondled it idly as she spoke over the steady din of
hoofbeats and rumbling wheels.

“You have a rare gift of twaddle, old man. I have never heard such eloquent
lies spoken with such conviction.”

“Are you sure they were lies?” he asked behind a raised brow.

She smiled. “Whatever they were, your words saved my life, and I would like
to thank you for them. But as I am no longer a queen, I have nothing of value to
reward you with. And as it has been a very long time since I was a mere woman, I
am not at all certain of what you might enjoy… or expect.” Brown John looked
at her, and she turned her warm knowing eyes on him. “Perhaps, to maintain our
disguises as low, rude traveling players, I should vulgarly offer you my body.
It would be a cheap enough payment.”

He chuckled with delight and said, “That would indeed be a generous offer,
but there is no need to even consider rewarding me. I expect nothing.”

“I thought as much,” she said in a tone implying she was greatly
disappointed, and the flattery of it made his cheeks flush.

After a moment, he said, “I’m sorry he treated you so roughly. There was no
call for it.”

“Do not be sorry,” she said offhandedly. “As I told you before, I expect as
much… and I would not have him any other way. He is a warrior. One more
death, more or less, is of small import to him. And… perhaps he is right,
perhaps you should have killed me.”

Brown John looked at her, and she looked off at the sunset, as if it marked
the ends of the world. “This being a mere woman is strange and frightening to
me, and I do not trust myself.” She lifted the chain for him to see it. “You are
wise to chain me, but I am sorry it is you who have to watch over me. I will try
not to be a burden to you.”

He shrugged and put his eyes back on the road. She waited until he looked
back at her, then scolded him with her eyes. “I warned you not to touch it, but
you would not listen. And now you are anchored with a woman, night and day, for
how long, only Black Veshta knows.” She laughed easily. “You are cursed, Brown,
but it is your own fault.”

He chuckled, then said, “That all depends on your point of view.”

There were enough double meanings in his tone for a bedroom farce, and she
turned away smiling her reserved smile so he could easily see it as he joyously
whipped the horses forward.

SPITFIRE

T
iyy stood waiting in the darkness of Pyram’s underground tide pool. Behind
her, at the far end of the entry passageway, faint red torchlight glowed,
silhouetting her body, a furry black shadow crowned with a pyramid of wild,
spiked hair. At the center of the pyramid, the whites of her eyes were thin
almonds, as quarrelsome as hissing cats.

It was the hour before dawn, and the waves crashed and thundered unseen in
the darkness, spilling into the pool. Vague bits of guttering torchlight graced
spears of white foaming water, momentarily reflecting on a group of the Nymph
Queen’s household guards lined up at the back of the ledge. Their foppish
scarlet uniforms had been replaced with buckskin and steel, and their weapons
were no longer decorated. Huge, muscled, handsome louts with biceps for brains,
she had handpicked them earlier that night and magically altered them into
obedient weapons of flesh and bone.

When the water subsided, Tiyy removed a slim hand from her robe and beckoned
with a finger at the orange glow behind her. The faltering sounds of sandals
slapping the floor came from the far end of the passage, as someone started
toward her, and she moved to the edge of the ledge, knowing even in the darkness
exactly where it was. Cold water splashed over her sandaled feet, and the wet
cold air made her cheeks tingle. She breathed deep, loving it, and parted her
furs slightly so the air could stroke her throat and breasts and belly.

Across the pool, fog crept through the tunnel that linked the pool to the
Inland Sea. It was banked just above the churning sea water, and within its
formless tumbling body there was the grey glow of day’s first light. The mist
moved cautiously, like the fingers of a blind man exploring the face of a
stranger, then suddenly burst forward as sea water filled the tunnel behind it.
There was a flash of total darkness, then the light brightened and speared
through a wave of green water laced with foam, and the huge white barrel of
Baskt’s body erupted from the face of the wave. Both water and fish arched out
through the darkness above the pool, and crashed thunderously into it, sending
geysers of water to the far corners of the shadowed cave.

Darkness again filled the tide pool, and the water quieted. The sound of
slapping sandals stopped beside Tiyy, and she felt Schraak’s small body brush
against her fur. He was shifting with fear and uncertainty, and the white
almonds of her eyes thinned with a smile.

After Schraak and Baskt had returned to Pyram with the bodies of the Grillard
dancing girls, the aging Nymph Queen had commanded them to stay out of her sight
until she returned from her laboratory. At that time she would send for them,
and either reward them for their success or punish them for their failure. She
had then closeted herself in her laboratory, put on the sacred vestments of the
high priestess of Black Veshta and consulted the secret sacerdotal writings of
the ancients. When the formulas were selected and the priests had prepared the
required rites, she had then transformed the girls’ meat and bone and blood into
salves that could be administered to her flesh, and potions that could feed her
body and soul. Three days she had spent underground, and now she had summoned
her two lords to give them what was due them. But the darkness hid her from
their view, and they still had no idea of whether they had succeeded or failed.

Feeling kittenish, she stood silent in the darkness for a long moment, toying
with them as if they were mice. Then she said sharply, “Now!”

Her word echoed around the cave, and the sounds of grunting men came from the
darkness nearby, then the squeal of wood on wood, and she hummed with pleasure.
Her guards were pulling the locking peg from the winch. There was a sudden
clatter of chains, and the thud of counterweights bumping inside rock walls,
then the squeal and rattle of the winch unwinding and a heavy iron door lowering
somewhere inside the cave.

Schraak shivered at the sound, touching her furs, and she slapped his hands
away, drawing a strangled whimper.

The rush of sea water momentarily subsided, and fog again entered, bringing
the vague daylight. The mist now swirled through the grilles of an iron gate
that was slowly descending from the roof of the sea tunnel to seal it off.

Schraak shrieked and fell to the floor with his forehead pressed against the
wet stone. “Forgive me, great one! Forgive me,” he whimpered.

Simultaneously, Baskt swirled violently within the confining pool and dove
toward the sea tunnel. There was still a small opening below the descending gate
offering escape. A wave crashed through the tunnel, and the shark plunged into
it. There was a thudding crunch of meat and cartilage ramming rock and iron, and
the cave shook, dust and pebbles falling away from the ceiling to drop noisily
into the pool.

Tiyy chuckled with moody pleasure. The waves had subsided again, and the wan
daylight revealed Baskt once more circling in the confining tide pool. His
pointed grey snout was washed with blood, and serrated teeth dangled from his
lip. He slashed one way and then the other, then dove deep and circled. A rusty
iron grille door now sealed off the hole at the bottom of the pool. He bumped
into it again and again, still seeking escape, then thrust upward. He burst up
out of the water in front of Tiyy with his massive jaws spread wide. But she was
out of reach, and he dropped back into the pool, splashing geysers of water to
the ceiling.

Tiyy lifted a hand, gave a command with fluttering fingers, and long orchid
nails glittered at the ends of smooth brown fingers.

The rumbling sounds of heavy iron wheelbarrows came from within the entry
passage, grew louder quickly, and Tiyy crossed like a shadow to the far end of
the ledge with the small smooth man crawling after her. There she stood waiting
in the blackest shadow.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, a glimmer of orange light adorned her face,
warming the whites of heavy-lidded sloping eyes, caressing florid pink cheeks
and blood-red lips.

The light came from the entry passageway where a deep red glow grew brighter
and brighter as the rumbling of the wheelbarrows grew louder and louder. Then
the first barrow appeared, a crude rectangular bowl supported by one iron wheel
and propelled by a squat hooded slave. His arms were as thick as young oaks and
as long as full-grown legs. Heaped in the wheelbarrow were glowing red-hot
stones.

The slave dumped the rocks into the pool without ceremony. They hissed and spit and splashed, and Baskt fled for the opposite
side.

Schraak lifted his face off the ground, using both hands to smear the slime
away from his small beady eyes, and stared in shocked terror.

Wheelbarrow after wheelbarrow of hot stones was dumped into the pool until a
hot light was cast throughout the cave and steam loomed like a cloud on the
ceiling.

Trembling, Schraak rose slightly and looked up over a slick grey shoulder at
the Nymph Queen. He gasped in shock, and a smile jerked on his mushy pockmarked
face. It had a slightly mad leer, and he laughed in giddy disbelief.

Tiyy, with deliberation, was looking directly at Schraak, giving him a full
view of her face.

The flesh on her broad forehead, and on the firm balls of her cheeks and
small pointed chin, was brown and smooth and unblemished. There was not a
wrinkle at the corner of either eye, nor did one crease her full lips. Her
rouges were gaudy and thick, and her bilious yellow hair was luxurious. It stood
straight out from her head in pomaded spikes forming a striking pyramid. Her
eyes were a vivid white and pearly grey. Hostile. Quarrelsome. Playful. The eyes
of a vixen spitfire not yet out of her teens.

“Holy Yang!” Schraak gasped, and again laughed madly.

She said, “You are brave to laugh,” but her eyes said something else.

Schraak did not notice. “I hardly recognized you,” he said. “It is a miracle.
You… you’re the Mother of Desire herself! A goddess! Black Veshta
incarnate!” He laughed out of control.

“Stop chortling, worm,” she said irritably, “and watch your friend. The
surprises have only begun.”

Schraak stopped short at her tone and looked back at the tide pool. He
shuddered so fitfully, he lost his footing and dropped back to all fours.

The sea water above the glowing stones had begun to churn and simmer, then
small bubbles exploded on the pool’s surface as it began to boil. Baskt was
thrashing on the far side, diving for the cool depths, a constant blur of white
movement. The boiling became more intense, great bubbles of air exploding on the
surface beside the ledge, then spreading throughout the pool.

Again and again the great shark threw his body up out of the water for
relief, jaws agape. But there was no escape. His white barrel began to darken,
and his teeth dropped from his softening gums. Slowly he rolled over to float
belly-up, still thrashing feebly.

Schraak, his teeth chattering, looked up at the Nymph Queen in dumb
confusion.

She considered him a moment and parted her fur robe, revealing the trim,
tight-skinned body of a voluptuous girl. Except for a girdle of silver chain
mail and diamonds, and the short paddle-shaped pendant dangling from it, she was
naked. She was still small with short arms, but as pliant as new grass and as
round as a dowel. Her breasts were firm balls of flesh as quarrelsome as her
eyes. Her belly was flat and hard, descending to swelling hips slightly wider
than her narrow shoulders, and her legs were luscious invitations to all that
rose above them. Barefoot, brown and dangerous.

Schraak stammered, “I… I don’t understand! Why… why do you torture
him? Your infallible flesh is perfection.”

“Because he failed!” she snapped peevishly. “What you are now privileged to
ogle is the result of my hard labor, not of his! And not yours, you worthless
worm! The girl was not among those you delivered to me!”

“But… but your wrinkles. They’re gone.”

“Be still,” she said crossly. “That is only because of a lucky accident, and
my unusual skills. Whoever the bukko was who selected the Grillard dancing
girls, he had an unusual gift of sight. Their beauty and spirit were terribly
strong, and fortunately suited to my own. Brazen, vulgar, sensual,” her voice
tittered, “and shameless. I was able to extract their Kaas from their blood and
meat, and use it to restore my beauty, as well as some of my strength. But it is
not permanent! It won’t last me the year! And it took days of endless labor!
Torturous hours of sweating over cooking flasks and stinking potions! None of
which would have been necessary if you had delivered the right girl.”

Schraak’s wide mouth fell open, and his thin pink tongue lolled around inside
like a frightened pet.

“Yes,” she said as nastily as possible, “you should be afraid. The girl not
only got away, but now she knows we hunt her. She will hide now, and make it a
thousand times more difficult to find her.”

Schraak dropped back facedown to the floor and shuddered.

“Acck! Stop that. It’s no use. No use at all.” She allowed herself to calm
down a little, watching the shark suffer some more, then spoke in a low, husky
register.

“I still must have the girl, Schraak. If she is not found, I will not have
the power required to fashion a new altar for our Dark Lord… and he will be
silenced forever.”

“Nooooo!”

She nodded. “Yes, and you are as responsible for that tragic possibility as
Lord Baskt. Consequently you will receive equal punishment.”

Schraak screamed, jumped up and raced toward the entry passageway. But two
guards snapped him up and brutally strapped his thrashing body into a tiny chair
attached to a long heavy pole. Feeding the pole out over the boiling sea water
like a giant ladle, they dipped him, screaming and squirming, down through the
rising steam into the bubbling sea water.

Tiyy watched them do this nine times, then ordered the punishment ended. The
giant ladle was removed, and Schraak’s unconscious body was unstrapped and laid
out on the ledge. Then a huge net was thrown around the nearly lifeless shark,
and he was hauled out of the water. His flesh, like Schraak’s, was cooked and
peeling away, like boiled beef.

Tiyy looked at the pair with small satisfaction. This was only the beginning
of the pain they would have to endure, and they were not the only ones who would
have to suffer.

She shuddered at her thoughts and lifted both hands, running the fingers of
her left hand over the little finger of her right. It was smooth and brown and
flawless, with an orchid nail that was long and tapered elegantly, the perfect
culmination of arm and hand.

She fondled the fatty pad of the fingertip for a moment, then brought the
tiny appendage to her lips and kissed it goodbye.