The Gods Awaken

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

The search for Palimak was stalled half the night by a swift-moving rainstorm that first reduced visibility to only a few yards, then became so strong they were forced to heave to and lay out a sea anchor to hold position.

As Brutar, the captain of the Nepenthe, said: "If we let the blow take us, we'll never find the place where the lad went off."

Biner took the airship above the storm, circling in the cold, thin air until just before dawn when the storm passed on to bedevil the lands beyond.

Then they resumed the search, retracing their path beyond the point where the battle with the tree-creatures had begun. Safar sent out two longboats to help scour the area, with Leiria and Jooli taking command of each of them.

Although he had little experience at sea, Safar was a skilled hunter-as were all Kyranians-and he used an old trick the mountaineers used to employ when speed was paramount-such as finding a lost child after a blizzard had passed, obliterating all trail signs.

But instead of human trackers he used the Nepenthe and the airship. The tall ship started in the center and circled outward, while Biner started at the most distant point and circled inward toward the center.

This way the same area was scoured twice in a very brief time period and there was little chance of missing Palimak if he were still afloat.

Although he didn't say anything, Safar could tell by Captain Brutar's dark expression that he thought the search was pointless after so many hours had passed. Like most sailors, Brutar and his crew could barely swim-if at all-and thought Palimak had most probably drowned not long after he had jumped from the ship to escape his pursuer.

Brutar's expression became darker still when he saw how infested the area was with sharks and sea crocodiles. Fins constantly criss-crossed the calm seas, while hungry reptilian eyes poked just above the surface, looking for opportunity.

Once they came upon an enormous crocodile fighting with two equally huge sharks over bloody remains.

Leiria and Jooli moved up in the longboats as the terrible fight raged. Then dispatched all three of the creatures with their longbows.

To Safar's relief, the remains proved to be not human but the corpse of a serpent whose body was twice the girth of a man's.

Finally, Captain Brutar made bold to approach Safar. Embarrassed, he hawked and spat over the rail.

Then he said, "Beggin yer pardon, me lord, and it pains me somethina€™ awful to say this to a father what's boy has gone missin'. In this old salt's opinion the lad's a goner and that's for certain. We can hunt til the Hellsfires burn themselves out and we won't find nothina€™ but what we already found-which is nothin'!"

Safar shook his head. "He's still alive," he said. "And if I have to, I'll turn the sea upside down and shake it out to find him!"

Brutar sighed. "Dammit, man," he said, "yer talkina€™ like we was lookina€™ fer a worm in a biscuit.

Knock it a€?gainst a table and the worm falls out, real easy like."

He made a wide gesture, taking in the long, empty horizon. "The sea ain't no biscuit. And the lad, bless his soul, ain't no worm livina€™ and eatina€™ in its natural born home. This is the sea, man. Which means she'll even kill her own!"

The captain braced for an argument, but was prepared to stand fast. Personally, he didn't give a thin fishbone about Palimak, much less about Safar's tender fatherly feelings. He wanted to get on with the voyage and either collect his promised bonus or toss Safar and the Kyranians over the side if for some reason the bonus wasn't forthcoming.

Actually, it was his cherished dream to accomplish both-collecting the money and ridding himself and his crew of this pesky lot once and for all. And get back to honest pirating, instead of fighting another man's enemies for pay.

However, instead of arguing, Safar's eyes lit up. He slapped the captain on the shoulder, saying, "Thanks, Captain! You may have just solved the problem!"

And he rushed away, leaving a bewildered Brutar staring after him. What in the hells had he said to be thanked for?

Safar burst into Palimak's ruined cabin and quickly found the doughmen as well as the two pieces of worm, which still showed faint signs of life. Then he sped to his own quarters where he dug out a wine jar, emptied the contents into a basin and knocked off the jar's narrow mouth with the blade of his silver witch's dagger.

Next, he waved the dagger over the worm parts and cast a regeneration spell. Sparks leaped off the point and each piece grew the part it was missing. A moment later there were two whole worms wriggling across the table. Safar imprisoned them with an overturned cup, then went on to the rest of his preparations.

After moistening the doughmen with wine, he formed them into a single ball. Then, with his skillful potter's fingers, he sculpted a single doughman of his own. Except, instead of Palimak's rather clumsy figures, this one looked like a tall, slender, broad-shouldered youth.

Using the dagger point Safar pricked in the features and in scant minutes Palimak's face appeared like magic-although it was art, not sorcery, that Safar used.

He slit the belly, pressed the worms inside, then smoothed over the wound. The Palimak doughman went into the wine jar, whose mouth was sealed with wax. He paused, taking in a deep breath to clear his mind. Now he was ready for the spell.

He went up to the main deck, the jar cradled in one arm. Leiria was already there, face pale as death, thinking the search had been called off. Jooli was just clambering on board from the longboat. Safar signaled the airship for Biner and Arlain to join him. And when all were gathered at the bow he asked their assistance in casting the spell to find the lad they all loved.

When he thought their minds were all fixed on the single goal he gestured, and burning incense appeared in his hand, filling the air with its heady scent. He heard murmurs from behind him, where Brutar and the crewmen watched, fearful of the wizardry he was about to perform.

Then, drawing on Asper for inspiration, he whispered:

"When in your mother's womb

You did dwell;

Tarrying between love's tomb

And life's Hell;

Did you ever wonder if the fearful Path

Where you tarried

Was close or distant from Fate's wrath?

Or were you carried,

Into this world not knowing

From whence you came

Or where you were going;

Bound for Nowhere on winds of pain?"

Then he threw the jar into the rolling waves. It bobbed about for a moment, then retreated swiftly as the ship sailed on. A great shark's fin cut in front of it. Everyone held their breath, whether from the sight of the shark or in anticipation of the spell, Safar couldn't say.

Suddenly, the jar reversed course. As if powered by a mighty sail it shot forward against the waves, moving past the ship's bow, then heading steadily away to the thin green line on the horizon.

Safar pointed. "That's where he is," he said. "In Aroborus."

And then he gave orders to set sail and follow the magical device to wherever it might lead.

The shores of Aroborus were a dazzling green, as if some wastrel god had cast emeralds from Heaven's treasure house into the sea. The wind blew fragrant, carrying the heady scent of spices and fruited vines.

Clouds of birds wheeled in the sky, filling the air with their mournful cries.

The wine jar came to rest on a wide beach of white sand, pebbled with broken shells of many colors-swept up from the sharp coral reefs that ringed the narrow-mouthed bay. Somehow the jar had been swept over the reefs unscathed. But at no point was there a place the longboats could get through, much less a tall ship the size of the Nepenthe.

Safar could see the wine jar bobbing in a tidepool and for the life of him couldn't imagine the circumstances that would have allowed Palimak to reach the beach unscathed.

Brutar said as much, pointing out that common reason said if the lad had made it this far alive, he surely would've died when he was hurled against the reefs to be shredded by their razor edges.

"Makes me shiver just to think about it, me lord," he said gloomily. "The poor boy comina€™ so close to safety, like. Gettina€™ his hopes up when he saw dry land. Then beina€™ a€?et up alive by them reefs, like he'd run into a school of sharks."

He sighed. "And ain't it a wicked world we was born to, me lord," he said, "to allow such an innocent lad-a lad loved by all-to come to such a terrible end? Makes a simple man like meself question his faith, it does.

"Damned priests are al'ays sayina€™ the gods smile on the good folk who mind their laws. But if truth be known it's the bad a€?uns who al'ays get through this life the easy way, ain't it?"

Worried as he was, Safar had to bury a smile at this speech, coming as it did from the lips of a committed cutthroat and pirate. Not that he entirely disagreed with Brutar's philosophy. Which was that under the unspoken laws of the heavens, it was the wicked, not the meek, who endured and prospered. While priests made themselves and their client kings rich and powerful by preaching the opposite to the masses.

It reminded him of a blasphemous drinking song from his days as a rebellious student in Walaria. He'd taught it to Iraj after they'd joined up again and it had become Protarusa€™ favorite ditty.

He sang it whenever they got together in private to drink and talk as equals. As young brothers of the blood oath, whose sworn common goal was for the good of all.

An image rose up in his mind-so strong, so real, that it swept away the terrible present and replaced it with the pleasant past. In his mind's eye he could see Iraj sprawled on thick pillows. The slender waist of a nubile wench clasped in one hand, a cup of cheer lifted in the other.

And he was singing, the remembered voice so real it strummed Safar's own vocal chords. He had the odd feeling that if he opened his mouth it would be Iraj's voice that came forth, instead of his own.

Although he didn't humiliate himself in front of the others, he let the scene play out in his mind. Then suddenly he lost all sense of time and place, waves of peace and half-drunken joy thrilling his imagination as the man who was once his friend sang:

"Rich man, poor man,

holy man, thief.

The rich get heaven,

the poor man grief.

Alms for the holy man,

To the thief, baksheesh!"

Then the other Safar-the Safar of the vision-joined in, slapping his knee in rhythmic time and singing the chorus:

"Oh, there's dancing on the altar

For those who do not falter.

Sin and gold for the bold.

To the meek, lash and halter … "

And then Leiria's voice cut through, bursting the vision like a knife thrust into a swollen bag of wine. And all the images spilled out, weakening him as if they were his life's blood.

"Are you all right, Safar?" she was saying.

He gasped, sucking in air like a man rising from watery depths, and emerged into the painful present. The wine jar still bobbed in the tidepool, but with Brutar nowhere to be seen. Instead of the captain, it was Leiria standing before him, looking up at him with worried eyes.

Safar coughed. Then he managed to nod, but the movement was jerky, clumsy. "Yes," he croaked. "I'm fine."

He glanced about and saw that Brutar was some twenty feet distant, standing with some of his officers.

Safar had no recollection that they'd parted.

"Are you sure?" Leiria asked. And for the first time, Safar realized she was whispering so the others couldn't hear.

"A few minutes ago," she continued, "you were talking to the captain, then you suddenly turned and walked off as if he'd angered you."

"I'm not angry at anyone," Safar said, puzzled. "Why should I be?"

Leiria put a gentle hand on his arm. Its loving warmth seeming to act as a catalyst to cleanse the remaining dregs of unreality from his mind.

"Actually," she said, "when I came up to see what was wrong, you were smiling. You looked so peaceful I hated to disturb you."

She made a faint motion with her head to indicate Brutar. "But I didn't want them to get the idea their commander had suddenly gone mad."

"I was only thinking," Safar said. "About … well, it doesn't matter now."

He knew this was an insufficient explanation, but was uncomfortable about saying more. Especially since it involved Iraj, whom Leiria hated with a passion.

"Whatever it was you were thinking about," she said, "I'm glad it made you smile. It's been a long time since I've seen you look so happy."

She moved closer, soft breasts brushing against him. Familiar perfume and fragrant breath rising to fill him up like wine.

And they were suddenly just a man and a woman-lovers from another time and place come together once more.

Safar had the overpowering urge to embrace her and kiss her. To carry them both away to the bower of joy they'd once shared together.

Only the presence of Brutar and the crew kept him from acting on his impulse.

Leiria shuddered, aching for the embrace. "You can come to me anytime you like," she whispered. "I won't send you away again."

"I know," Safar said, voice rasping with effort.

Hurt came into her eyes. "But you won't," she said, nearly weeping.

"I want to," Safar said. "But I can't."

The hurt softened. And she recovered, smiling sadly. "For the old reasons?" she asked.

Safar nodded. "And more," he said. "There's … there's … something that…" and he gave up the struggle and broke off the rest. "I can't explain," he said again.

"Will you ever tell me?" she whispered.

"Yes," he said. The answer started as a lie but, brief as his reply was, by the time he spoke the word it became a promise.

Leiria smiled and, hidden from the sight of the others by his body, she blew him a kiss.

Then she turned and for the benefit of the onlookers laughed loudly as if he'd just told a fine jest. It must have worked for Brutar was visibly relieved.

The pirate captain turned to his officers, chuckling as if he'd overheard the joke, saying, "You see. Lord Timura was only a bit tired from worryina€™ and beina€™ up all night lookina€™ for his boy."

Safar squared his shoulders, again accepting the weight of all the burdens he'd escaped, however briefly.

"We'd better get going," he said to Leiria.

"Yes, we'd best," she said, but her tone was regretful.

Safar pushed emotions aside and got to work. He'd already decided how to proceed and immediately signaled for Biner to prepare to take him away. A moment later a large basket was cranked down from the skies.

Before he ascended to the airship with Leiria and Jooli, Safar sent for Renor. The young soldier approached, his ever-present companion, Sinch, at his heels.

"Biner's going to land us on the beach with the airship," Safar said. "I don't know how long it's going to take to find Palimak, or what dangers we might encounter, but I want you to be on the alert for my signal."

"Don't worry, Lord Timura," Renor said. "We'll come running the moment you send for us."

Safar patted his shoulder. He was quite fond of the young Kyranian, who had suffered and borne up under much since the days when they had all been forced from their homeland. His little brother had been the first victim of Iraj's assault-slaughtered in a high mountain meadow in the Godsa€™ Divide.

"I never worry about you, Renor," Safar said. He grinned at Sinch. "Or you either, Sinch. Except for your tasteless jokes, of course."

Sinch blushed, pleased that the great Lord Timura remembered such a personal thing about him.

"I'll have a dozen more ready, my lord," he said, "for when you get back. I know you love a good joke."

Safar smiled in appreciation. Then he said, "The only thing that really worries me is Captain Brutar and his pirates. I want you both to be on your guard in case they decide to forgo the bonus and play the traitor."

Renor nodded. "I'll get all our boys together," he said. "Drill them in full armor and all. That ought to put the fear of the gods into those pirates. They're just rabble and they know they can't stand up to real soldiers. And if that doesn't work, we'll already have our weapons at hand to teach them some lessons about loyalty."

Safar approved this plan, issued a few more orders to cover details they hadn't discussed before, then took his leave.

Half an hour later Safar was retrieving the wine jar from the tidepool. A squad of Kyranian soldiers stood by for his orders, while Leiria and Jooli scoured the beach for some sign of Palimak.

From above came a whoosh of air and the throb of the magical engines as Biner took the airship aloft.

The plan had been thoroughly discussed and the system of signals worked out. Now all Safar had to do was find Palimak.

"Over here, Safar," Jooli shouted.

He hurried to her side, Leiria joining him.

Jooli pointed at several impressions in the sand "Footprints," she said. "Although they're too faint for me to make out who they belong to."

Safar knelt, fishing out his silver dagger. He waved it over the impressions, muttering a spell. The sand shifted, moving only a few grains at a time and gradually the footprints took form, standing out deep and clear.

They were human prints-long and narrow with well-formed toes. The only thing out of the ordinary were tiny marks like hooks springing from the toes. Not hooks but talons, Safar thought. Which could only mean one thing. Relief flooded in.

"It's Palimak," he said.

Safar looked up at the forest bordering the beach. The trees were so dense they might as well have been castle walls. Then he saw the break of a narrow avenue leading into the woods.

"He went that way," he said, rising.

They followed the footprints a short distance along the beach, Safar stopping every now and again to work his magic.

Then, suddenly, the distances between the tracks started lengthening. Each footprint far in front of the other.

"He's running!" Leiria said.

"Yes, but from what?" Safar said.

Heart racing, he looked about the beach, but saw no other signs.

"I don't know what's happening," he said, "but we'd better hurry."

Then he called for the soldiers and they all plunged into the dark, ancient forest of Aroborus.