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Authors: Brian Lumley

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BOOK: Spawn of the Winds
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She clung to me gratefully, drank of my strength, and an anger blew up in me that led almost to disaster. Without thinking I put her behind me, gripped the wide bars of the balcony with both hands and stared straight out at Ithaqua.
I screamed at him with my mind.
“You great, loathsome, alien blasphemy! When the day of reckoning comes, may the Elder Gods burn out your black heart and float your soul on a sea of fire, to fry until the end of time! Until then, know this. Your daughter is mine, mine! and neither man nor monster can ever take her from me!”
The defiant gesture of a spoiled child! But not satisfied with that, I also conjured up a mental picture of a star-stone of ancient Mnar and, hurling that at him too, added intended injury to the insult.
Immediately, violently, the thing at the apex of the ice altar reacted.
First I sensed his mental derision at the star-stone symbol, as if he already knew that we were no longer in possession of the stones; then came his anger as he lifted his arms up to the gray skies and expanded, bulging upward and outward until he towered fully a hundred feet into the air; and finally he stepped aloft to walk up the wind, reaching into the suddenly boiling sky to draw down weirdly flickering lightnings that played in his hands. For a moment longer he held that inferno of electrical energies in his hands.
“
Back!
” came Armandra's warning cry. “Back from the bars!” She tugged at my arm until I followed her at a run, pushing Tracy and Oontawa in front of me. We had covered only a few paces when a weird, hissing blue light filled the balcony and corridor. Then the hissing became a deafening crackling as a large hand picked me up and hurled me headlong. The two girls flew with me—but not Armandra.
From where I dazedly lay I looked back at the Woman of the Winds, and at the balcony beyond her. Her hands were held up against the blue light that flickered angrily about her but did her no harm. Lightning played about the bars of the balcony, heating them a glowing white and running in rivers of sparks all about the floor, ceiling and walls. Tongues of flickering fire reached hungrily after us, but were held back by Armandra's power. For a moment longer the scene seared itself upon my mind, then the blaze of electrical fire died away.
In my mind's eyes I pictured a horrific figure striding in icy air over Borea, throwing back his head to roar with glee; then that vision too was gone and I was left knowing that Ithaqua had sent it.
Armandra came to me as I got to my feet. Chidingly she said, “That was no way to talk to the Wind-Walker.” Then she hugged and kissed me, glad that no harm had come to me. Obviously she had heard what I said to her monstrous father, and it seemed she was no longer so vehemently opposed to someone's laying claim to her, provided I was that someone.
She kissed me again and with her kisses came a great yearning inside me. She sensed it and held me away at arm's length, turning her head confusedly to where the women had now regained their feet. She disengaged herself, asking them if they were hurt in any way. They were not.
Then watching me out of the corner of her eye, in a very low tone she said, “You must be very careful, Hank, how you taunt or tempt a
being with the power to hurl the very lightning of the storm against you. Be it Ithaqua or Ithaqua's daughter!”
The yearning in me doubled as I saw again the mischief floating to the surface of her ocean eyes. She quickly sobered. “Come,” she said. “We will return to my rooms and wait for news.”
How Many Tomorrows?
(Recorded through the Medium of Juanita Alvarez)
 
News was not
long in coming. An Eskimo guard soon arrived and, with much bowing and scraping, was let into Armandra's chambers. “Good, good,” she said, drawing him upright and cutting short the formalities. “What news?”
She listened intently to his rather slow, guttural speech—words meaningless to me, for where she had spoken in English he answered in
Eskimo
—until he was done, then dismissed him. In all of his short report I had caught only one phrase, a phrase repeated in something akin to awe and horror: “The Madness!”
As the guardsman bowed himself out Armandra turned to me. “They have caught the third traitor, the one who took Tracy's star-stones. He was hiding in the forbidden tunnel.”
“In the tunnel?” I repeated. “Hiding there?” I frowned, shaking my head. “But how could any man of the plateau ever manage to steal Tracy's star-stones in the first place? And I thought no man could ever venture into the forbidden tunnel, that its emanations were impenetrable. Now you tell me this man was hiding there!”
“Perhaps not
hiding
then,” she looked at me pointedly. “No, he was-—trapped—there. I do not care to think about it. They had him cornered and he had only one way to go. They caught him when he came out. As for the star-stones, that was simple. He caught them up at the end of his spear, lifted them by their chains, kept them away, from him so they could not harm him
“Even so,” I said, “he must be a very brave man. Brave and misguided.”
“A frightened man,” she answered. “Frightened of Northan.”
“I want to see him, question him,” I told her. “I want to discover Northan's intentions, what he's up to.”
She shook her head. “You'll get no sense out of him, Hank. The history of the plateau tells that once, hundreds of years ago, offenders against the common good, thieves and the like, were driven into the forbidden tunnel as punishment for their crimes. The records all show the same end result. It will be the same now; this underling of Northan's, he will not be coherent.”
The way she said the last word found me looking at her inquiringly, but she avoided my eyes. She did not like to talk about that enigmatic tunnel in the bowels of the plateau, or of its effect upon men.
Tracy spoke up. “And have they got the star-stones backs”
Armandra shook her head; “No, he must have left them behind him, in that place. If so, they will remain there forever.”
At that point there came again the sound of padding feet from the corridor. Oontawa went out and returned after a few seconds. “The man is being held in the council hall,” she told her mistress. “The elders have tried to question him, in vain. Now they ask what you want done with him.
Armandra began to answer, then checked herself. She turned to me. For a long moment she looked at me. Finally she said to Oontawa: “That is not a matter for me. Better you speak to the warlord.”
For a moment Oontawa looked puzzled, but then understanding dawned in her eyes. Of course. Now there was a new warlord! Speaking to me, the girl repeated, “The elders are holding the man; has the warlord any instructions?”
“Ill come to see him,” I told her, “and I'll talk to the elders, too. Send word that I'll be there shortly.”
Oontawa left immediately and Tracy went with her. My sister knew that Jimmy Franklin had been hurt and wanted to go to him. Finally I was alone with Armandra. Now she relaxed a little, became a woman again and not a goddess.
“Big trouble is coming, Armandra.” I said. “We don't need a hunchman to tell us that much.”
“I know,” she answered. “And I think—I think that I am frightened, Hank. Things are all coming to a head too soon. too quickly. Troubles pile up all about us. The plateau's problems seem about to
engulf us all. And now you have accepted a task that might daunt any man. You are the plateau's new warlord, and at a time such as this!”
“This was the way it had to happen,” I answered. “In a way I'm glad. It's my chance to prove myself once and for all—to the People of the Plateau and to you. You know what that means to me.” I forced myself to grin, making light of things, kissing her forehead while she clung to me.
Her voice was molten gold when she said, “We may not have much time, Hank. That is what frightens me most.”
“We've wasted a lot of time,” I answered, fires melting my iced blood. She pushed me away, her face suddenly flushed.
“When you have spoken to the elders, return to me,” she hurriedly said. “Make what arrangements you must—do what must be done—then come back.” She opened her mind to me:
visions of lurking, half-formed fears and fierce, tumultuous passions!
“I am your warrior, Armandra. your champion, but not yet truly your husband. What of the plateau's rules? The ancient codes?”
The flush left her face and disbelief replaced it. Thunderheads darkened her brows and lightning flashed in her eyes. “Dare you make excuses when I have offered—?”
“But the ancient codes!” I protested, unable now to contain my laughter.
“Codes! Rules!” she started to flare up, then burst out laughing with me when she realized I was playing. Suddenly we both sobered, and I saw that her eyes were now wantonly seductive, Icelandic pools beneath which volcanic fires roared. “We will have to forget the rules, Hank.”
“Armandra—”
“
No!
” she broke away from me. “Go to the elders now, then come back to me.”
On my way to the Hall of the Elders I found myself shadowed by two lean, powerful Indians who took up a steady, loping walk at my heels. I began to feel alarmed when it dawned on me that these could be two more of Northan's men, left behind to take care of me.
After they had followed me for at least half the distance to my destination, when it seemed that they were stealthily closing the gap between us, I turned on them. I drove my elbow deep into the stomach of the one on my right, snatching his handaxe from his belt as he doubled over, retching. Dropping to a crouch and twisting into a good position
to deliver a low, killing kick at the second of the two, I was stopped dead in my tracks by the sight of the man prostrate upon the tunnel floor!
I took away his handaxe and hauled him to his feet, demanding to know what was going on. He had a fair grasp of English, speaking to me rapidly, babbling while his companion slowly managed to compose himself. They were my personal bodyguards and messengers, sent by Oontawa to attend me.
I offered my apologies and clumsily attempted to brush the winded Indian down. He assured me that he considered himself the recipient of a great honor; he could now claim to have seen and experienced the lightning ferocity of “Sil-ber-hut-te” at first hand. His children's children would talk about me, and he, Kasna'chi, would be a part of my legend. He would doubtless have gone on had I not stopped him. It is disconcerting to say the least to find oneself growing into a living legend!
And so, with Kasna'chi and Gosan-ha close at my heels, I eventually arrived at the Hall of the Elders. The Indians waited outside while I went in to see the elders and their prisoner.
Other than the ten elders, two Eskimo guardsmen were also present in the great cave, The latter pair held between them a man who had plainly been of French-Canadian extraction. They were not so much detaining him as holding him up. I mention him in the past tense because quite simply he was no longer—anything; whatever he had been, he was no longer.
Though his body showed few of the normal signs of age, his face was deeply lined, his hair visibly graying. His eyes bulged and stared blankly and a slack grin or grimace made his lower lip seem to droop. Saliva ran down his chin. He babbled quietly, incoherently to himself. Armandra was quite right. No one would ever again get any sense out of this man.
I had him taken sway. His guards were to give him into the hands of those who would do what could be done for him. Useless to punish a man who could not remember his crime, could remember nothing at all.
Then I spoke to the elders, placing emphasis on the plateau's near invulnerability, making light of Northan's defection and stating that we were all now better off without him. I told them I doubted the ex-warlord's immediate ability to attack us, that for the moment we
had nothing to fear from him. While I was delivering my pep-talk, Charlie Tacomah caught my eye. When I had done he drew me to one side.
“I see what you are doing,” he told me, “and it is good, but I hope you are not fooling yourself. Northan knows all of the plateau's intricacies, its strong defensive positions and its weak spots. Until now we have been fortunate; the great majority of the Wind-Walker's people have been weak-willed and ignorant. Northan is neither of these things. At last Ithaqua has an ally he can use.”
“And I have allies, too, Charlie,” I answered. “You are one of them. The elders will have to do without you from now on. Tactician you once were, tactician you will be again. You are more use to me right now than to the elders.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“I want you to start by having a good look at the plateau's defenses. Find me all the weak spots and devise ways to protect them. And I want to know our vantage points and cave entrances which can be made impregnable, but from which special forces might make telling forays. I need to know these things in order to prepare a plan of defense. In fact I want you to prepare such a plan, and the sooner you get started the better.”
His eyes had taken on a keen glint as I talked; a new fire now shone out of them. “Do you think that the attack will come soon?”
“As soon as Northan can turn Ithaqua's rabble into an army, yes. They have their rough edges, the wolf-warriors, but those can soon be hammered out. I've seen them in battle and I was impressed. Led by Northan, backed up by the Wind-Walker's hellish powers—oh, yes, it's certainly coming, Charlie. I want us to be ready, that's all. If only there was a way we could get those star-stones back.”
He shook his head at that. “If they have been left in the forbidden tunnel as we fear, then they cannot be recovered. They must—simply—remain—” He checked himself in midsentence, brightening. “But wait! Haven't I heard your sister say that—”
“Forget it!” I snapped. “She may not he afraid of the tunnel but I certainly am, for myself and for Tracy. If there's something down there that can do what we've seen done to a man—something that turns my bones to jelly just standing at the entrance to its lair—then I'm not asking my sister to face it!”
“Of course not,” he quickly replied. “It was a stupid thing to suggest.”
After a pause he added, “I have a lot to do now, and you will be even more occupied. If you will excuse me—”
“Yes, Charlie. And let me have the answers as soon as you know them.”
After Charlie left the Hall of the Elders I had a few more words with the council before setting out to look for Whitey. It dawned on me that I had not laid eyes on him for four or five days. I wondered what he was up to, and I wanted his advice. He was my hunchman, and if anyone ever needed a few decent hunches it was me.
I found myself wondering: what kind of a hunchman was Whitey anyway? Oh, he'd warned me often enough about Northan, certainly, but there had been nothing specific, nothing definite. Whitey must be losing his touch. Soon enough I was to find out just how right I was.
Then, realizing that I need not look for Whitey myself, I sent Kasna'chi to find him, keeping Gosan-ha with me when I went to the roof of the plateau for a breath of fresh air.
All around the great flat roof, massive battlements had been cut from the solid rock. Behind them, spaced at intervals of about one hundred yards, keen-eyed watchers observed the white waste from this supreme vantage point. The scene to the front of the plateau was one which, despite its monochrome sterility, perhaps because of it, seemed starkly beautiful to me. Only one thing marred it: the obscene fingers of the distant totems pointing at a leaden sky, circling the pyramid altar like dancers frozen in some evil ritual.
And the being atop the pyramid seemed frozen too, as he motionlessly surveyed the strangely littered terrain of his territory, the white waste. A rage quickly built up in me and I had to force myself to carefully put down the binoculars, clipping them to my belt. It wouldn't do to drive the Wind-Walker into another frenzy, not while I was up here.
My mind was a muddle of conflicting thoughts, all of them having to do with the plateau's safety and future. Finally I left the roof. I walked with my thoughts, measuring the rock corridors until, almost without realizing it, I found myself on the penultimate level. There, at that entrance where Eskimo guardsmen stood in rich ceremonial robes with their bears shuffling behind them, I awoke to my surroundings. Deep in thought though I had been, busy with mad flights of heroic fancy as well as very real plans for the protection of the plateau, my feet had led me back to Armandra.
BOOK: Spawn of the Winds
10.37Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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