The Sword & Sorcery Anthology (33 page)

“Let Kane send his demons to find us! My blade will shield us from
his spells, and I’ll send his minions howling in fear back to his dread
tower! Let him creep from his lair if he dares! I’ll feed him bits of his
liver and laugh in his face while he dies!”

Dessylyn’s eyes brimmed with adoration. “You can do it, Dragar!
You’re strong enough to take me from Kane! No man has your
courage, beloved!”

The youth laughed and twisted her hair. “No man? What do
you know of men? Did you think these spineless city-bred fops, who
tremble at the shadow of a senile cuckold, were men? Think no
more of slinking back to Kane’s tower before your keeper misses you.
Tonight, girl, I’m going to show you how a
man
loves his woman!”

But why will you insist it’s impossible to leave Kane?

I know.

How can you know? You’re too fearful of him to try.

I know.

But how can you say that?

Because I know.

Perhaps this bondage is only in your mind, Dessylyn.

But I know Kane won’t let me leave him.

So certain—is it because you’ve tried to escape him?
Have you tried, Dessylyn?
Tried with another’s help—and failed, Dessylyn?

Can’t you be honest with me, Dessylyn?

And now you’ll turn away from me in fear!

Then there was another man?

It’s impossible to escape him—and now you’ll abandon me!

Tell me, Dessylyn. How can I trust you if you won’t trust me?

On your word, then. There was another man....

VI. Night and Fog

Night returned to Carsultyal and spread its misty cloak over narrow
alleys and brooding towers alike. The voice of the street broke from its
strident daylight cacophony to a muted rumble of night. As the stars
grew brighter through the sea mists, the streets grew silent, except
for fitful snorts and growls like a hound uneasy in his sleep. Then
the lights that glimmered through the shadow began to slip away, so
stealthily that their departure went unnoticed. One only knew that
the darkness, the fog, the silence now ruled the city unchallenged.
And night, closer here than elsewhere in the cities of mankind, had
returned to Carsultyal.

They lay close in each other’s arms—sated, but too restless for
sleep. Few were their words, so that they listened to the beating of
their hearts, pressed so close together as to make one sound. Fog
thrust tendrils through chinks in the bolted shutters, brought with it
the chill breath of the sea, lost cries of ships anchored in the night.

Then Dessylyn hissed like a cat and dug her nails so deep into
Dragar’s arm that rivulets of crimson made an armlet about the
corded muscle. Straining his senses against the night, the barbarian
dropped his hand to the hilt of the unsheathed sword that lay beside
their bed. The blade glinted blue—more so than the wan lamplight
would seem to reflect.

From the night outside.... Was it a sudden wind that rattled the
window shutters, buffeted the streamers of fog into swirling eddies? A
sound.... Was that the flap of vast leathery wings?

Fear hung like a clinging web over the inn, and the silence about
them was so desolate that theirs might have been the last two hearts
to beat in all of haunted Carsultyal.

From the roof suddenly there came a slithering metallic scrape
upon the slate tiles.

Wizard’s Bane pulsed with a corposant of blue witchfire. Shadows
stark and unreal cringed away from the lambent blade.

Against the thick shutters sounded a creaking groan of hideous
pressure. Oaken planks sagged inward. Holding fast, the iron bolts
trembled, then abruptly smoldered into sullen rubrous heat. Mist
poured past the buckling timbers, bearing with it a smell not of any
sea known to man.

Brighter pulsed the scintillant glare of the sword. A nimbus of blue
flame rippled out from the blade and encircled the crouching youth
and his terrified companion. Rippling blue radiance, spreading across
the room, struck the groaning shutters.

A burst of incandescence spat from the glowing iron bolts. Through
the night beyond tore a silent snarl—an unearthly shriek felt rather
than heard—a spitting bestial cry of pain and baffled rage.

The shutters sprang back with a grunting sigh as the pressure
against them suddenly relented. Again the night shuddered with the
buffet of tremendous wings. The ghost of sound dwindled. The black
tide of fear ebbed and shrank back from the inn.

Dragar laughed and brandished his sword. Eyes still dazzled,
Dessylyn stared in fascination at the blade, now suffused with a sheen
no more preternatural than any finely burnished steel. It might all
have been a frightened dream, she thought, knowing well that it had
not been.

“It looks like your keeper’s sorcery is something less than all
powerful!” scoffed the barbarian. “Now Kane will know that his spells
and coward’s tricks are powerless against Wizard’s Bane. No doubt
your ancient spellcaster is cowering under his cold bed, scared spitless
that these gutless city folk will some day find courage enough to call
his bluff! And against that, he’s probably safe.”

“You don’t know Kane,” moaned Dessylyn.

With gentle roughness, Dragar cuffed the grim-faced girl. “Still
frightened by a legend? And after you’ve seen his magic defeated by
the star-blade! You’ve lived within the shadow of this decadent city
too long, girl. In a few hours we’ll have light, and then I’ll take you
out into the real world—where men haven’t sold their souls to the
ghosts of elder races!”

But her fears did not dissolve under the barbarian’s warm confidence.
For a timeless period of darkness Dessylyn clung to him, her heart
restlessly drumming, shuddering at each fragment of sound that
pierced the night and fog.

And through the darkened streets echoed the clop-clop of hooves.

Far away, their sound so faint it might have been imagined. Closer
now, the fog-muffled fall of iron-shod hooves on paving bricks.
Drawing ever closer, a hollow, rhythmic knell that grew deafening
in the absolute stillness. Clop-Clop Clop-Clop Clop-Clop CLOP-
CLOP CLOP-CLOP. Approaching the inn unhurriedly. Inexorably
approaching the mist-shrouded inn.

“What is it?” he asked her, as she started upright in terror.

“I know that sound. It’s a black, black stallion, with eyes that burn
like living coals and hooves that ring like iron!”

Dragar snorted.

“Ah! And I know his rider!”

CLOP-CLOP CLOP-CLOP. Hoofbeats rolled and gobbled across
the courtyard of the Inn of the Blue Window. Echoes rattled against
the shutters...
Could no one else hear their chill thunder?

CLOP-CLOP
CLOP
. The unseen horse stamped and halted
outside the inn’s door. Harness jingled.
Why were there no voices?

From deep within the chambers below echoed the dull chink of
the bolt and bars falling away, clattering to the floor. A harsh creak as
the outer door swung open.
Where was the innkeeper?

Footfalls sounded on the stairs—the soft scuff of boot leather on
worn planks. Someone entered the hallway beyond their door; strode
confidently toward their room.

Dessylyn’s face was a stark mask of terror. Knuckles jammed
against her teeth to dam a rising scream were stained red with drawn
blood. Dread-haunted eyes were fixed upon the door opposite.

Slipping into a fighting crouch, Dragar spared a glance for the
bared blade in his taut grasp. No nimbus of flame hovered about
the sword, only the deadly gleam of honed steel, reflected in the
unnaturally subdued lamplight.

Footsteps halted in front of their door. It seemed he could hear the
sound of breathing from beyond the threshold.

A heavy fist smote the door. Once. A single summons. A single
challenge.

With an urgent gesture, Dessylyn signed Dragar to remain silent.

“Who dares...!” he growled in a ragged voice.

A powerful blow exploded against the stout timber. Latch and
bolt erupted from their setting in a shower of splinters and wrenched
metal. All but torn from its hinges, the door was hurled open, slammed
resoundingly against the wall.

“Kane!”
screamed Dessylyn.

The massive figure strode through the doorway, feral grace in the
movements of his powerful, square-torsoed frame. A heavy sword was
balanced with seeming negligence in his left hand, but there was no
uncertainty in the lethal fury that blazed in his eyes.

“Good evening,” sneered Kane through a mirthless smile.

Startled despite Dessylyn’s warning, Dragar’s practiced eye swiftly
sized up his opponent. So the sorcerer’s magic had preserved the
prime of his years after all.... At about six feet Kane stood several
inches shorter than the towering barbarian, but the enormous bands
of muscle that surged beneath leather vest and trousers made his
weight somewhat greater. Long arms and the powerful roll of his
shoulders signaled a swordsman of considerable reach and strength,
although the youth doubted if Kane could match his speed. A slim
leather band with a black opal tied back his shoulder-length red hair,
and the face beneath the close-trimmed beard was brutal, with a
savagery that made his demeanor less lordly than arrogant. And his
blue eyes burned with the brand of killer.

“Come looking for your woman, sorcerer?” grated Dragar, watching
the other’s blade. “We thought you’d stay hidden in your tower, after I
frightened off your slinking servants!”

Kane’s eyes narrowed. “So that’s...Wizard’s Bane, I believe you
call it. I see the legends didn’t lie when they spoke of the blade’s
protective powers. I shouldn’t have spoken of it to Dessylyn, I
suppose, when I learned that an enchanted sword had been brought
into Carsultyal. But then, its possession will compensate in some part
for the difficulties you’ve caused me.”

“Kill him, Dragar, my love! Don’t listen to his lies!” Dessylyn cried.

“What do you mean?” rumbled the youth, who had missed Kane’s
inference.

The warrior wizard chuckled dryly. “Can’t you guess, you romantic
oaf? Don’t you understand that a clever woman has used you? Of
course not—the chivalrous barbarian thought he was defending a
helpless girl. Pity I let Laroc die after persuading him to tell me of her
game. He might have told you how innocent his mistress—”

“Dragar! Kill him! He only means to take you off guard!”

“To be sure! Kill me, Dragar—if you can! That was her plan, you
know. Through my...sources...I learned of this formidable blade you
carry and made mention of it to Dessylyn. But Dessylyn, it seems, has
grown bored with my caresses. She paid a servant, the unlamented
Laroc, to stage an apparent rape, trusting that a certain lout would
rush in to save her. Well plotted, don’t you think? Now poor Dessylyn
has a bold defender whose magic blade can protect her against Kane’s
evil spells. I wonder, Dessylyn—did you only mean to go away with
this thickheaded dolt, or did you plan to goad me into this personal
combat, hoping I’d be slain and the wealth of my tower would be
yours?”

“Dragar! He’s lying to you!” moaned the girl despairingly.

“Because if it was the latter, then I’m afraid your plotting wasn’t as
intelligent as you believed,” concluded Kane mockingly.

“Dragar!” came the tortured choke.

The barbarian, emotions a fiery chaos, risked an agonized glance
at her contorted face.

Kane lunged.

Off guard, Dragar’s lightning recovery deflected Kane’s blade at
the last possible instant, so that he took a shallow gash across his side
instead of the steel through his ribs. “Damn you!” he cursed.