The Gods Awaken

CHAPTER TWENTY

The monsoon season struck Syrapis full force. Even the natives said it was the worst in recent memory.

First came the stultifying atmosphere, settling over the island like a thick, uncomfortable blanket.

Breathing was accompanied by a wet rattling of the lungs. Old people and babes were most affected by this and Safar and Palimak were kept busy night and day treating a host of respiratory ailments.

This was accompanied by a series of heavy rainstorms that drenched everyone to the bone. Clothes never seemed to dry. Small wounds became huge weeping sores. The animals developed mange and other skin diseases. Goat milk and cheese became a precious commodity as the mother goatsa€™ teats dried up.

Next came the crops. The Kyranians had brought seeds and cuttings from their high-mountain homeland.

Over the past few years the Esmirian plants had done well in the mountain fortress the Kyranians had chosen for a home. But the monsoon brought a dampening sickness with it. Roots of young plants were pinched off by the disease. The older plants were stricken with a mysterious fungus. Gray patches would suddenly appear on the leaves and within only a few days the plants would wither and die.

Lightning was a constant peril. Striking without warning even on those rare days when the skies were blue and empty. Parents taught their children to make a small presence if they were caught out in a lightning storm.

They were taught to crouch down, head between their legs, being sure to keep their weight balanced only on their toes. The idea being to make as little contact with the ground as possible. They were also told to stay away from fences during a lightning strike. And if caught out in a wooded area, to get under the shortest tree. For some reason the Lightning Gods favored the tallest objects on which to concentrate their wrath.

The airship was grounded the whole time and there was no surveillance while the monsoon storms lasted.

Safar and Palimak weren't too concerned about this vulnerability, reasoning their enemies were just as hampered by the storms as they were.

Safar, however, was concerned about the mercenary fleet they'd hired. Besides the airship, it was this sea force that had kept King Rhodes bottled up. Coralean was dispatched, along with a strong guard, to make certain the pirate captains remained loyal.

Meanwhile, Safar spent all his spare time pondering his next move. He told Palimak and Leiria about his enslavement to the spell of Hadin, his escape and the subsequent disappearance of Iraj.

"I suppose we'll unravel those mysteries in good time," Safar said one night. "But at the moment the thing that intrigues me most is that mural."

He indicated the painting on the wall. "I wonder mightily what the story is behind that. Who was the king?

And what of his daughters? Especially the dark-skinned woman on the black mare. When her ghost visited me she said she was a Spirit Rider. And that she was commanded to lead me to Syrapis. For what purpose, I don't know."

"Maybe it has something to do with Lord Asper's coffin, father," Palimak said. "To me, that's as big a mystery as the mural. One moment I saw his mummified corpse. And then he was gone. To be replaced by your living body."

"I have an inkling of what happened to Asper," Safar replied. "It's my theory that the coffin is a gateway between here and Hadin. Unless I'm in grievous error, we basically traded places."

He thought a moment, then added, "At least, it is was a gateway. It's closed now. And there's no way of reopening it again."

Outside, the intensity of the rainstorm increased, furiously pounding on the shuttered windows.

Leiria shivered. "Give me a sword, a spear and a shield and I'll fight any enemy you put in my way," she said. "But all this talk of magical gateways, missing corpses and Spirit Riders is unnerving."

Palimak said, "About the mural, father…"

"Yes?"

"Why don't we talk to Queen Jooli?" he asked. "Maybe she can tell us its history."

Safar considered his suggestion. Jooli was nearly as big a puzzle to him as the magical mysteries he was attempting to unravel. He still thought it odd that a hostage should so completely switch her loyalties.

Yet he sensed he could trust her implicitly. She clearly hated her father, just as her sympathies were clearly with the Kyranians. Perhaps it had something to do with her witch's powers. Had she learned something through magic that had opened her eyes?

There was only one way to find out.

"Send for her," Safar said.

A few minutes later Jooli came into the room, still sleepy-eyed from her bed. Twin lightning spears crashed outside, light flaring through the shutter panels. Mixing with the wavery light of the torches sputtering in their brackets on the wall.

Jooli was wearing a long, soft gown and in the sudden intensity of light her slender figure was outlined through the rich cloth. At the same time Safar caught the scent of her perfume-delicate flower blossom.

He was startled at her beauty, realizing this was the first time he'd seen her out of armor.

He started to speak and found his voice had grown husky. It had been a long time since he'd been with a woman and she'd caught him off guard with her earthy presence. He cleared his throat to cover his embarrassment and bade her to sit and take some wine with them.

They talked casually for a time, drinking wine and remarking that the storm seemed to be subsiding. Safar noticed that Jooli was eyeing him speculatively, no doubt wondering why she'd been called here. He felt a gentle touch of magic as she sniffed about to see if there was any danger. When none was found, the subtle probing quickly vanished.

Jooli spoke first, going directly to the heart of things. "I suppose you're all wondering about me," she said.

"Wanting to know why I'm acting like such a willing hostage. And why I seem so disloyal to my father.

"I suppose you're even asking yourselves if it's some sort of trick. Suspecting, maybe, that any day now I'll reveal my true colors and stab someone in the back."

The rain made a gentle patter now and Safar smiled. "No one thinks that of you, Jooli," he said. "It's apparent to us all that when we found you, we found a friend. Although I must admit that I'm mystified how we came to be so fortunate. Until you came here to live, you knew nothing about us."

"That's not quite true," Jooli said. "You see, Safar Timura, I've been waiting for your arrival ever since I was a girl."

There was a long silence as everyone in the room wondered at this startling remark. A sudden wind blew up, crashing against the shutters.

Palimak's eyes jerked toward the mural, then toward Jooli. His demon senses prickling with awareness.

He muttered, "Yes, it makes sense."

Safar said, "Apparently my son is much more astute than I am, Jooli. Which doesn't surprise me. In not too many years our roles are sure to be reversed. And he will be the teacher and I his willing student. But please enlighten me. So I'll possess the same knowledge as my son."

"I'm only guessing, father," Palimak said, blushing. Safar was his hero and he didn't want to discover any chinks in his armor, much less think of himself as superior in any way.

Once again, the storm's fury lessened. The pounding at the shutters became a faint, tap, tap, tap.

Safar chuckled. "Let's see how good a guess it was, son," he said. "Go on, Jooli. Please explain."

Jooli nodded. "Gladly. I've been waiting for the right moment and it's finally here. However, first I need to tell you a little about myself. So, if you'll forgive a rather lengthy approach…"

"We have all the time in the world, Jooli," Safar said. Then he grimaced, rueful. "Although that might not be as long as we wished."

"I know something about that, too," Jooli said. "The gods asleep. The Demon Moon. Hadin. The end of the world."

As if on cue one of the shutters came loose, crashing back and forth with the wind. Palimak jumped up to fix it back into place.

Safar acted as if nothing had happened to disturb them. "This is getting more and more interesting," he said mildly. "Go on."

Without preamble, Jooli said, "I am the oldest of my father's children. I am also the best warrior in Hunan. This is no boast, merely a statement of what is so. I have natural abilities, plus I've trained long and hard at the art of warfare. As you've no doubt noticed, in Syrapis a leader must be a noteworthy warrior, or she wouldn't be able to hold her kingdom much past the coronation.

"Regardless, in my view I am the rightful successor to the throne of Hunan. There is no law in our land forbidding a woman ruler, so my claim to the crown is certainly not without merit."

The wind took on a sighing note, whispering many sad things. And Leiria murmured, "But your father is reluctant."

Jooli laughed, not without bitterness. "When it comes to my father," she said, " reluctant is such a mild term. a€?Over my dead bodya€™ is more the way he puts it. Although lately he's dropped that phrase.

Imagining, I suppose, that I might take him up on it. Anyway, he's done his best over the years to marry me off to one prince or another. Hoping to get me out of the way and make a key alliance to boot.

"He's also tossed me a royal bone by giving me the title of a€?Queen,a€™ and a few hundred acres of farmland to rule so I can have an independent income and satisfy my cravings for leadership by ordering the cows and harvest crews about."

Outside, there was a lull in the storm and everything became very quiet.

Safar frowned, then said, "You don't seem the sort of person to be ruled by overweening ambition. Do you really want the crown of Hunan so badly you'd take up with your father's enemies? Or is there another, much deeper reason?"

Jooli gave him a long look. Then she hoisted her wine cup, drained it, hooked the jug and refilled her cup.

She gave a long sigh.

"Yes, Safar Timura," she said, "I do have a deeper reason. And as it so happens, I'm driven by the same foolish desires as you. In short, I want to wake up the gods and save the world!"

Safar nodded, then said, "Good. Now, tell us about the mural."

Palimak gaped in surprise. Leiria stifled laughter when she saw his expression. The poor boy had really believed he had guessed something his father was too slow to realize. She didn't say anything to him, but she thought, It's time you understood, little one, that Safar always knows! Then a sad caveat came to her: Except when it's a personal matter. When it came to love, Safar was as ignorant as a splay-footed plowboy.

Jooli said, "Yes, the mural. I've just about reached that point in my story. But one moment more, please."

"You can have as many moments as you desire," Safar said.

"You can't fully understand," Jooli said, "until I tell you about my grandmother-Queen Clayre. Queen Mother Clayre, to be more exact."

The lull ended with a loud crash of lightning, followed by a torrent of rain that slammed into the old stone fortress, shaking it.

Jooli glanced at the trembling shutters, then back at Safar. She said, "My grandmother's a witch, as I told Leiria before-rather alarmingly when all those damned rats appeared. And I've made no secret that I'm a witch as well."

She smiled first at Safar, then at Palimak. "As if I could keep such a thing from two such powerful wizards."

Palimak blushed. Safar's face remained a bland, albeit friendly shield. Leiria's eyes narrowed. The flattery wasn't called for. Then her features relaxed as she realized that Jooli was nervous. The female artifice was only reflexive. She thought, As if you haven't foolishly reacted that way yourself upon occasion!

Then she saw Jooli's eyes darken as she realized her error and gave herself a mental kick. It made her like the woman even more.

The slip seemed to make Jooli concentrate more on her tale. She bowed her head, speaking so low her words could barely be heard over the storm.

She said, "At one time my grandmother was training me to take her place as Queen Witch of Hunan. I was about five years old when she first brought me into her chamber. It was shortly after my mother died."

Jooli stopped speaking for a moment. Then she shook her head, saying, "I've often thought she poisoned my mother. But that's another tale that has nothing to do with what has occurred since."

Safar gently picked up her wine cup and gave it to Jooli to drink. She sipped the wine, nodded her thanks, and continued.

"My grandmother introduced me to all the mysteries over the next few years," she said. "I was a good little girl who never gave her elders cause for concern. I did what I was told, when I was told. And then one day I saw the mural."

She gestured, indicating the painting on the wall. "Oh, I'd seen it before, of course. Even wondered about it. It's such a romantic scene. A noble king. Warrior daughters at his side. Marching off to do battle against what you instinctively knew was a very powerful and evil enemy. I was especially struck by the dark-skinned princess who led the procession. She was so beautiful, so brave, on that great black mare!

"I made up heroic little stories about her in my mind, substituting myself in her place. Once I asked grandmother about the mural, but she became very angry and said I was asking too many stupid questions. That it was just a painting, nothing more.

"But on this particular day I was alone in her chambers. She was off about some sort of business, I don't recall what. And as I gazed at the mural I started thinking that it couldn't be just a painting. It had to have some special meaning. I got up and went into the hallway, where there were other murals. They're still there, as a matter of fact. And they are frightening things! Ugly things! You've never seen them, but if you had you'd know what I mean when I say they look like they were created by some devil from the hells.

"I learned later that this description wasn't so far off the mark. The originals were done long ago by a great artist-a wizard-in the employ of that ancient king." She motioned at the golden-mailed king in the mural.

"But my grandmother used those murals for her own purposes," Jooli continued, voice harsh. "At one time they were all beautiful pastorals that lifted the spirit. But she painted over portions of them, inserting nightmarish, sinful scenes. Despicable things. They make me ill just thinking of them. And then she used the altered murals to create black spells against her enemies. I learned later that her bargain with Charize, the monster queen, made all this possible.

"For some reason, she never touched the mural that now sits in this room. I don't know why. But I think she's afraid of it."

Safar asked, "Can you tell us anything about the people depicted in the mural?"

Jooli smiled. "I certainly can. In fact, I met the dark woman. She is a creature of the mural. It was she who told me about you and your holy mission. She bade me to wait for your appearance in Syrapis. And to do everything I could to ensure that your mission is successful."

Safar was stunned. "You mean she only exists in that painting?"

"Quite so. Now, at any rate," Jooli said. "She and her family lived hundreds of years ago. They were rulers of Syrapis when Lord Asper arrived here from Hadin. They watched over him while he labored over his books, seeking an answer to the disaster that would someday overtake the world. And when he died, they created the idol and the death chamber you found his coffin in. Asper made the coffin with his own hands when he knew his death was near."

"What about Queen Charize?" Palimak asked. "How did she and her monsters end up ruling Asper's chamber?"

"My grandmother said that she was Asper's Favorite. He came upon her in Hadin and although she was evil, her magic was so strong that he used her to help cast his most difficult spells. Before he died, he enslaved her and set her to guard his tomb.

"But over much time she managed to break his spell and free herself. There are some who say that Charize is responsible for all the warfare in Syrapis. That she and her minions set human against human to feed on our misery."

Jooli shrugged. "I don't know how true that is," she said. "In my experience people don't need that much of a reason to kill one another. I do know this, however. In order to live and create her sisters she required someone in the outside world to help her. And, in recent years, my grandmother was that person."

Palimak grinned, demon eyes glittering in delight. "Now that Charize is dead," he said, "it'll make it damned hard for your grandmother."

Safar sighed. "Maybe so," he said. But his tone was doubtful.

He was thinking of the new being Queen Clayre could now rely upon. The creature that was Kalasariz who dwelt in King Rhodes. He didn't say anything, because he was loath to tell Jooli what Rhodes had become. Even though she disliked him-perhaps even hated him-it would be a difficult thing for a daughter to bear.

He decided to wait for a more appropriate time. The tale Jooli was telling was already having a great effect on her. Her features had become pale and drawn, eyes sitting in bruised hollows. He changed the subject.

"What of the Spirit Rider?" he asked. "Could you tell us of your meeting with her?"

Jooli nodded. She was growing weary. Not so much because of the talk, but because of all the memories that had come flooding back as she spoke to her new friends.

Somewhere far off a dog howled and she realized the storm had finally ended. Silence cloaked the room as she gathered her strength.

And then she drank down her wine and began the tale…