The Gods Awaken

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

They plunged through hot darkness, the sound of what seemed like heavy whips whirring and cracking on every side. Far ahead of them they could hear the muted boom of big metal drums and the distant wail of hundreds of tortured voices.

Red tongues of flame flicked out at them and Khysmet swerved in mid-flight, dodging most of the hot spears. The big stallion shrilled in fury as one blast hit him, then steadied his course and flew onward at an even greater rate of speed.

Palimak felt a searing pain across his thigh but took heart from Khysmet's example and ignored it, concentrating solely on the transport spell he'd created with his father and Eeda.

They were plummeting deeper and deeper into the bowels of an immense sorcerous machine with nothing except the transport spell to guide them.

Enormous unseen gears groaned somewhere in the darkness. They were driven by what Palimak imagined to be huge clattering chains that powered the hellish machine in its mysterious, yet clearly evil purpose.

Gundara and Gundaree chattered fearfully in his ear, crying, "Look out, Little Master! Beware! Beware!"

in a never-ending chorus of warnings.

He couldn't see any of the dangers that were stalking him-he could only sense fierce presences looming up with gnashing teeth and rattling claws and the stink of old carnivores.

Khysmet never stopped, only swerving from side to side like a swift-moving eagle, somehow always avoiding the danger.

All of Palimak's instincts shrieked for him to draw his sword and defend himself. But there was nothing to see except for an occasional cloud of hot sparks drifting up to meet them.

A verse from Asper came to him-leaping crazily into his mind and crowding out the fearful sensations.

Palimak chanted it, adding the old demon's powers to the transport spell:

"Into the Hells my soul did fly;

Not knowing if we'd live or die.

But then it returned with this reply:

No truth in Heaven, only lies, lies, lies!"

Palimak felt his strength return, his fears vanish. And the cold demon side of him opened like a yawning gate.

He felt his claws arc from their sheaths and he felt powerful and ready for any monster that dared approach.

And just then-looking over the shoulder of the creature who wore his father's body-he saw a large red ball of light appear. It was as if they were nearing the end of an incredibly long tunnel.

He'd seen a bright light when the tunnel had first opened, but then it had been swallowed by darkness.

Palimak looked closer, gripping Safar's tunic tighter with his claws. Features began to appear on the ball of light. Familiar features.

It was the Demon Moon!

Iraj gloried in Khysmet's fierce ride through the jaws of the Hells. Blood on fire, body burning with the joy of impending combat, he felt like he could take on the gods themselves.

And when the monsters came scrambling through the darkness, with only the beat of their leather wings and gnashing teeth to give them away, he laughed aloud at Khysmet's swift change in course, foiling their charge.

The awful sounds of the great machine and the distant wails of agony only made his bloodlust burn hotter.

He didn't know what awaited them at the end of this magical ride through the spirit world, but he also didn't care.

His enemy was there, that was enough.

What enemy?

Did it matter?

Never!

Only show me your face, he thought. And you'll curse the day you chose Iraj Protarus for your foe!

Then, far below, he saw the Demon Moon. Khysmet was flying straight toward it.

Is this where my enemy waits? he wondered. Then he thought perhaps it was the moon itself that opposed him.

He laughed, thinking, What a marvelous boast for a man to make: I was the one who slew the Demon Moon!

* * * *

Buffeted by the storm of Iraj's emotions, Safar kept a tight rein on his own. He didn't care a damn for the dangers lurking in the darkness, nor did he allow himself to marvel at Khysmet's skillful flight.

His whole being was focused on the transport spell. He hoped Palimak was doing the same.

Several times he sensed his son's attention falter and the spell weakening under his grasp.

Safar wished mightily that he could speak to Palimak. He had a good idea what his son was going through. To know that his father's body had been invaded by another, much hated presence. Feeling somehow betrayed, but without reason or evidence to support that feeling. Putting his faith and trust into a stranger's hands-hands that had previously done their best to kill him.

Once Safar almost asked Iraj to let him voice words of comfort to Palimak. Then he realized that this would only make things worse.

For how would Palimak truly know it was his father speaking and not Iraj Protarus?

Then the young man suddenly seemed to become stronger than before. Safar caught a whiff of demonic magic and knew that Palimak had transformed himself-giving free rein to his demon side.

And Safar wondered, At what cost, my son? At what cost?

Then Iraj said to him, Get ready to fight, brother! We're at the final gate!

And Safar saw the bloody face of the Demon Moon rear up, with its death-mask grin.

Khysmet trumpeted a challenge and Iraj reached for his sword.

Safar said, Wait, brother! It's not yet time for steel!

And at that moment the moon's face burst into a violent sheet of flame. The hot blast smashed Khysmet back and they spun over and over, the stallion fighting desperately to right himself. Iraj and Palimak clawing for purchase.

Finally, Khysmet kicked himself aright.

"Go!" Iraj shouted, digging in his heels. "Go!"

And the stallion swooped toward the hot flames.

Safar hissed, The trumpet! We need the trumpet!

Iraj immediately plucked the shell horn from his tunic, lifted it to his lips-and blew!

Safar put all his magical energies into Iraj's breath. And the sound was like a thousand war trumpets shouting in unison.

A pale light bloomed, swelling larger and larger. And then the beauteous Spirit Rider burst out of the light on her glorious black mare.

Princess Alsahna turned in the saddle, waving her sword. "This way, Safar!" she cried.

And she and the mare charged straight into the flames.

Khysmet bellowed lustily at the sight of the mare and charged after her.

Then they were surrounded by a sea of fire. Great boiling waves of flame bursting in from all sides.

Bone-scorching spears of fire cracking out of those waves.

The heat and the pain were so intense that it was all Safar could do to keep himself from screaming out, I surrender! I surrender!

Iraj shuddered with the pain, crying, What's this, brother? What's this?

And Safar felt Palimak's claws tighten, spearing through his tunic and into the flesh. He thought he heard his son shout, "Father! Father!"

But he realized that Palimak was actually urging them on, crying, "Onward! Onward!" And even in all his pain, Safar felt supreme pride at his son's bravery.

Then he saw the Spirit Rider charging back. The black mare rearing up and pawing the air.

Blue spears of light shot from her hooves, driving the flames back. And opening a passage through the boiling red sea.

Then the Spirit Rider whirled her mount about, shouting once again for them to follow, and charged out of sight.

Khysmet surged forward and there came a crack! crack! crack! A series of explosions so loud Safar felt like the bones of his shared body were about to burst.

And then everything became hazy. And everything became quite still.

And the only sounds were the boom of a slow, gentle surf, the rhythmic throbbing of sweet harvest drums, and a thousand glad voices lifted in song:

"…Lady, oh Lady, surrender.

Surrender. Surrender…"