Wolves of the Gods

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

The moment their eyes met Leiria thought something was wrong. Safar was smiling, laughing, genuinely glad to see her, but he seemed withdrawn-as if he were hiding something. Even Palimak was strangely subdued, hesitating when she embraced him, then suddenly hugging her tightly as if he were afraid.

Then the soldiers and circus performers were crowding around shouting and babbling nonsense and the sense of wrongness was swept away in the happy reunion that followed. But the pall of death from the nearby battleground soon penetrated their happiness-a grim reminder that there was little time for such things.

Safar pulled everyone away, quickly explaining what had to be done next while he led them down to the field where the airship waited, straining at its cables.

"We have to move fast," he said, "before Iraj sticks his ugly head through that hole again."

Biner forced a grin. "And won't he be surprised when there's not a blessed soul waitin' for him."

Arlain shivered. "Thurprith?" she said. "What could thurprith a … a … thing like him?"

"It's Dario's surprise I'm thinking about," Renor said with a small laugh. "Imagine his face when he sees we're still alive. He probably thinks we're dead by now."

There was weak laughter at this, but there was a hard bite of hysteria to it. Safar put everyone to work stripping the airship of all unnecessary weight so they could board the ship and flee.

The sense of wrongness returned when Safar pulled Leiria aside.

"Walk with me," he said, taking her elbow and guiding her to a path that twisted down to the river.

Palimak walked next to her, still silent and oddly subdued. Khysmet plodded patiently behind, reins looped over the saddle horn.

Safar told her what had happened-about the distance-collapsing magical portal that waited on the other side of the mountains to carry them to Caluz, about the ships he'd hired to take them to Syrapis, and the agreement he'd made with Coralean.

Finally they reached the river bank, where Safar stopped. They were just a few hundred yards downstream from the peninsula where the Turtle of Hadin churned out its mechanistic magic.

When he stopped Leiria knew what was wrong. Especially when Palimak clutched her hand.

"You're not coming with us," she said-a statement, not a question.

Safar sighed. "I was getting to that," he said.

"But why, Safar?" Leiria cried. "Why!"

"There's no other way," he said. "I've already discussed this with Palimak. Ask him. He'll tell you-much as he dislikes admitting it."

Palimak's head dropped and he said, low and forlorn, "Father's right. There's no other way."

"But we're finally almost free of Iraj!" Leiria protested. "All the villagers-your family, your friends, everyone-are so far into the mountains now that he'll never catch them. In a few minutes we can join them, thanks to the airship. And then we're off to Syrapis with no reason ever to look back."

Safar shook his head. "I have to stop the machine," he said. "If I don't it will be the end of Esmir."

Leiria felt as if she'd just been clubbed. When she heard Safar's reason she knew there was nothing she could say or do-even if she had a tongue that coined only words of silver and a thousand years to argue in-that would change his mind.

Still, she had to try. "To hells with Esmir!" she said. "We were leaving here anyway."

"You don't understand," Safar said. "Actually, I didn't myself until after I spoke to Hantilia and got Asper's book. Some force-don't ask me what force, I can't yet say-is devouring the world from the inside out. I think of it as a voracious worm, a parasite, tunneling through the earth's belly looking for the weakest place where it can burst through and spread destruction. Hadin was the weakest point, the first place the worm broke through."

"And Esmir is next?" Leiria said.

Safar nodded. "Yes. At Caluz."

Leiria slumped, defeated.

"Don't worry," Safar said, trying to sooth her. "I have every chance of making it."

"Oh, of course you do," Leiria said, angry again. "In a few minutes several thousand blood-thirsty soldiers will be charging into this valley-led by four great wolves from the hells. While you're hammering away at that machine, or whatever you plan to do to disable it. And you'll be there all by yourself with no one to guard your back, or help you."

"Actually," Safar said with a thin smile, "I was planning on asking Iraj for help."

Leiria waved, dismissing the remark. "We don't have time for silly jokes," she said.

"It really isn't a joke, Aunt Leiria," Palimak broke in. "He has to have Iraj there or the spell won't work."

Leiria stared at Safar. The more she heard, the worse it became.

"Listen to me, Leiria," Safar said. "We really don't have as great a lead on Iraj as you think. He'll be in those mountains before the blink of an eye and everything we've done up to this point will be a tragic waste. I can delay him, perhaps even defeat him. Either way it will give my people the chance they need.

When you catch up to them, use the airship to speed things up. All you have to do is get them to the top of those mountains. Palimak can show you how to go from there."

"Please, Safar!" Leiria said. "Give me a chance to think. This is moving too fast and I don't know where it's going."

Safar put an arm around her. "The same place we've planned on from the beginning," he said.

"Syrapis. But only if you do exactly what I tell you. Hear me out, Leiria. You have less than two days to get them through the portal before it closes. It shouldn't be too difficult-Palimak and I had no trouble getting back here. Even so, that's not much time to get to Caspan and meet Coralean."

"That's right," Leiria said, feeling numb. "Otherwise he'll sail without us."

"And he'd be insane to do otherwise," Safar said.

They heard people shouting and turned to see that everyone had boarded the airship and was ready to go.

"Aren't you even going to say goodbye to them?" Leiria asked.

"I wish I could," Safar said, eyes becoming moist. "But they'd only argue with me and there isn't time."

Leiria started to speak, but Safar stepped in, pulling her close. Crushing her to him, kissing her long and deep. A kiss of farewell. A kiss of regret.

Then he pulled away, saying, "See you in Caspan!"

Leiria nodded. "All right," she said. "Caspan."

She turned and started for the airship, walking slowly so Palimak could catch up after he'd spoken to his father.

Safar knelt beside the boy. "We've already talked about this," he said, "so you know what to do."

Palimak rubbed an eye. "Sure I do, father," he said, voice trembling.

"Do you have the book?"

Palimak patted the package in his tunic and nodded. "Yes, father," he said.

"And when you get to Caspan," Safar pressed, "what then? What did we agree?"

Palimak dodged the question. "I'm supposed to wait for you," he said.

Safar pressed harder. "Yes, but if it comes time to sail and I still haven't shown up-then what?"

Palimak started to cry, but Safar grabbed him by shoulders, stopping him.

"Then what, son?" he insisted. "Then what?"

Palimak sniffed. "We leave without you," he said.

Only then did Safar pull him close, hugging him and whispering that he loved him and calling him a brave boy, a noble boy, who could do all the things his father asked of him.

Finally, Safar stood up. "You'd better go, son," he said.

Palimak straightened his shoulders, trying to look manful. "Goodbye, father," he said.

He started to turn to leave, then stopped. "But what if they don't listen, father?" he asked.

"They'll listen," Safar insisted.

"Sure, but what if they don't?"

And Safar answered, hard-"Then make them!"

When Iraj stepped into the passageway he suddenly became frightened. Attack seemed imminent, danger a densely coiled spring ready to snap. He smelled the fear in his spell brothers and knew they were experiencing the same sudden cold dread. Never mind they were surrounded by a veteran guard of soldiers and wizards prepared to die to protect them. Never mind the passageway into Caluz had been declared safe-the enemy driven back.

The feeling of dread persisted, growing stronger with each step they took down the wide, torch-lit corridor. Where every wavering shadow seemed an assassin gathering to strike.

Moments before they had declared victory. The trouble was the victory had come too easily. True, Fari and his wizards had cast the mightiest of battle spells to clear the passageway-and beyond. They'd reamed it with magical fire, followed up by soul-shriveling spells no mortal could withstand. At the same time, expecting a counter-assault from Safar, they'd thrown up impenetrable shields designed to turn his own attack against him. Luka had quickly followed up, sending his best fighters rushing behind the spells to wipe out any force that remained.

Safar's expected counter never came and when the soldiers burst into the light on the other side, there was no one to meet them, with only the bodies of their own dead for evidence that any fighting had gone on before. Confident, Iraj had brushed aside all doubt and ordered his party forward to finish off Safar.

Now, as he moved toward the light shimmering at the end of the passage, all those doubts returned-and in greater strength. He thought, it's impossible … Safar couldn't have been defeated so easily. Then a second fear-what if he were dead? Iraj had to catch Safar alive, then kill him with his own hands or all his plans would be for naught.

Mind in turmoil, belly roiling with conflicting emotions, Iraj burst out of the passageway into dazzling light.

And found-nothing.

Iraj blinked in the strong sunlight, struggling to regain his bearings in the odd beauty of Caluz. All was serene, all was peaceful, but no matter where he looked he saw not one living soul.

He sniffed the air-Safar's spoor was so strong he knew he still must be there. His companions evidently agreed.

"It's only one of Timura's tricks," he heard Fari say.

"Yes, yes, a trick," Kalasariz agreed.

"A pitiful trick at that," Luka added. "There's no place he can hide that we can't find him."

Just then-on the hill directly opposite them-Iraj saw a lone horseman ride into sight. The man waved at him, almost cheerily, as if greeting an old friend.

It was Safar!

And he rose in his stirrups to shout: "This way, Iraj!"

Then Safar swung the horse about and cantered easily back down the hill as if he had nothing to fear in the world.

The airship hovered just above the mountain path, a sentinel for the last group of Kyranians streaming out of the Caluzian Valley to safety.

Palimak crouched in the observer's platform, watching the villagers pass under him. In a few minutes the airship would get the signal from Dario that all had crossed. Then it would be Palimak's duty to lead them through the portal to Caspan. He tried hard not to think about what would happen after that.

As the refugees passed by some of them spotted him on the platform. They cheered and waved and he forced himself to wave back, feeling like the blackest, the cruelest of liars. Because when they saw him they naturally thought Safar Timura was there, falsely raising their hopes that all was well.

He touched the package beneath his tunic-the Book of Asper. Suddenly the entire weight of world crushed down on him. What if his father didn't make it? What if his father were killed?

For a minute he couldn't breathe, then when he could he was overwhelmed by self pity. It wasn't fair! He was just a boy! Too young to be alone with so much sorrow, so much responsibility. How could they expect … and so on … and then a little voice piped up from his pocket:

"It won't be so hard, Little Master," Gundara said. "You can do it."

"That's a stupid thing is say," Gundaree broke in. "We're talking about saving the world, here!"

"Don't call me stupid!"

"Well, I don't know what else to call it. The whole thing's impossible no matter how you look at it. Saving the world, indeed! If I told Lord Timura once, I told him twice, there's no use. So why bother trying?"

Palimak broke in. "Gundaree?" he said.

"What, Little Master? How may I serve you?"

"Shut up, please!"

For some reason, he suddenly felt a little better.

Safar guided Khysmet toward the river shallows where he could cross over to the temple. The big stallion kept pulling at the reins, wanting to run, wanting to get the hells out of here before they were surrounded by all the known villains in the world.

Safar soothed him, saying "It's all right … it's all right…" Knowing all the while that it might very well not be all right! That any number of things might be happening right now, the least of which would be a swarm of arrows winging their way toward his exposed back.

To keep his nerve, Safar reminded himself that only two things could occur and he was prepared for both eventualities. The first-the worst-was that as soon as he had called out to Iraj, he would have four great wolves and an entire army charging down his back. This would be a very foolish thing for Iraj to do because Safar would make him pay with his life and still accomplish his purpose. Iraj was no fool and would know this, which led to the second possibility.

The possibility that allowed for Safar's survival, which made him rather prejudiced in its favor.

When Khysmet splashed through the shallows and still nothing had happened, Safar knew that Iraj had chosen correctly.

He started thinking he might live after all.

The Unholy Three immediately wanted to charge after Safar, but Iraj stopped them in place with a curt,

"Hold!"

His command caught them in mid transformation. They were so surprised that they froze there, an ugly mixture of parts. Skin marred by erupting patches of fur, wolf snouts bursting under demon horns, shape-changer eyes burning out of deep pits. What monsters! Iraj thought, disgusted, horrified, at the sight of them. Then he saw himself in their ugliness and hated them even more.

Iraj pointed at Safar, who was riding down the hill toward the river. "Don't you think he knows?" he hissed, finger quivering. "Don't you think he's ready?" He fought for calm. "This is Safar Timura, you fools! If we charge after him we'll all be dead before we reach the top of the rise!"

While he was berating them his spell brothers had come unstuck and shifted back to their mortal forms.

Good, Iraj thought. The weaker the better.

Fari sniffed the air, then shuddered as he caught the scent of all the killing traps Safar had conjured in their path.

"Your Majesty is certainly correct in his caution," he said. "Lord Timura may be trapped, but he can still bite."

Luka wasn't happy with this. He thought, no matter what that bastard Timura has up his wizardly sleeve, he can't stand up to a whole army. But Luka was wise enough to say nothing. He let Kalasariz beg the point and ask the diplomatic question.

The spy master nodded to his king. "We bow to Your Majesty's wisdom," he said. "Tell us what to do."

Iraj shrugged. "Follow him," he said.

When Safar reached the temple grounds he dismounted and sent Khysmet on his way. He fed him a palmful of dates, turning away all the questions trembling on the whiskers of Khysmet's tender mouth as the horse nuzzled him. Whispering assurances all the while.

Then Safar drew away and said, "You know where to meet," and slapped him gently on the rump.

Khysmet snorted, reared up, then came down to whirl and gallop away. In no time at all he was across the second river channel and heading for the meeting place they'd imagined together.

Safar glanced up and saw Iraj riding down the hill toward the temple. He started to count how many were with Iraj, then shrugged. At this point it didn't matter.

He swung his pack off his shoulder and dumped it upside down. Then he crouched beside the jumbled heap, sorted a few things out and soon had a little oil fire burning in a bowl. Safar heard the sound of many horses splashing across the shallows, but ignored them. Instead he pulled a small book from his sleeve and drew his little silver dagger to cut it up. He paused, looking fondly on his old friend, the little Book of Asper he'd carried with him since Walaria. He felt guilty about what he had to do with it. He almost wished Hantilia hadn't given him the second book-the one he'd bequeathed to Palimak.

Otherwise he never would have thought of the spell.

The sound of horses cantering across the peninsula toward him broke the reverie. He started cutting up the book and feeding the leaves into the fire, chanting:

"Hellsfire burns brightest

In Heaven's holy shadow.

What is near

Is soon forgotten;

What is far

Embraced as brother;

Piercing our breast with poison,

Whispering news of our deaths.

For he is the Viper of the Rose

Who dwells in far Hadinland!"

He burned all the pages save one, which he kept back. Ignoring the sounds of soldiers dismounting and the approaching boots, he carefully twisted the page into a narrow stick, then lit the end. It burned slowly, like incense-smoke curling thinly from the glowing tip.

Finally Safar looked up and saw Iraj standing not ten feet away. Prince Luka was on his left, Fari his right, and Kalasariz leered over his shoulder. Framing them were at least a hundred soldiers, weapons ready, bows tensed for the killing command.

He paid no attention to any of them, fixing only on Iraj. Golden hair and beard blazing in the sun, royal armor gleaming, helmet under one arm, hand resting on the jeweled hilt of his sheathed sword. There was no doubt who was in command here.

Safar came to his feet, lazily twirling the burning stick between two fingers.

He smiled, saying, "So tell me, brother, how do you like being king?"

The words struck Iraj like a fire bolt fresh from the forge. The dream of the boy he'd slain, the boy who became Safar, with the gentle blue eyes that looked into his heart, whispering the question that had no answer. "So, tell me, brother, how do you like being king?"

"Enough of this nonsense!" Fari growled.

"Kill him now!" Luka demanded.

"Beware his cunning, Majesty!" Kalasariz hissed.

Safar twirled the burning stick of paper, still smiling, friendly, open, as if this were the most normal of meetings.

"Tell them, Iraj," he said, quite mild. "Tell them it's not as good for them as they think."

Iraj recovered. He smiled back, just as friendly. Just as open. It surprised him that it took so little effort.

"I already did, Safar," he said, with a small laugh. He tapped his head. "But sometimes they have trouble remembering the things I say."

"Oh, they listen," Safar said, returning Iraj's laugh. "We all listen! When the king speaks whole armies of clerks sift and sort his words so their masters can study them for their true meaning."

Iraj chuckled. "You mean they listen but they hear only what they want to hear."

Safar shrugged. "If had I put it that plainly," he said, "you never would have made me Grand Wazier.

More words equals greater wisdom-that's what the priests taught me in Walaria."

Iraj snorted. "Priests! You know what I think of priests!" Another smile-reminiscing. "But there was one priest … old Gubadan."

Safar nodded, remembering the kindly schoolmaster who had overseen the unruly young people of Kyrania. Iraj and Safar had been the most mischievous of the lot, combining forces to bedevil him.

"What a windbag!" Iraj laughed. "But I liked him." He shrugged. "He was my friend."

"A commodity of great value," Safar said. "Even for a king." He gestured at Fari and the others.

"Especially for a king."

Safar paused, eyes going back to Iraj's spell brothers. "Forgive me for not acknowledging you before, my lords," he said.

Then he addressed each one in turn, saying, "Greetings to you, Prince Luka," bowing slightly, waving the burning stick of paper, "…and you, Lord Fari," another bow, another wave of the stick, "…and, of course you, my dear, dear, Lord Kalasariz!"

He came up, spell nearly completed, turning to face Iraj.

"It seems that when it comes to friendship, Iraj," he said, "you have more reason than most to consider that homily."

One more bow, one more wave of the smoldering paper stick, and the spell was done. Safar gave himself a mental kick for thinking that. It wasn't done! This was only the end of the first act. He was only in the middle, the great sagging center of the tightrope. Now for the rest. He fixed his mind on his goal and prepared to move on.

Fari spoke up: "That was a very clever little spell, Lord Timura," he said. "It took me more time than my good reputation as a wizard can bear to unravel it. I assure you, however, that in the end, age bested wisdom. Look for yourself and I think you'll agree. Your spell has been effectively terminated."

Safar obediently concentrated, testing the magical atmospheres with his senses, confirming what he already knew, which was that Fari had fallen for Safar's spell-within-a-spell trick.

Calling on his most subtle acting abilities, Safar blinked with dismay-sinking the hook.

Another blink, then he forced a smile, making it overly wide and bold in a pretended attempt at recovery.

Barely controlling a trembling voice, he said, "We shall see, my lord, we shall see," as if he were supporting a bluff doomed at the first call.

Iraj observed all this, confidence growing by the minute. The game was going as he wanted, never mind Safar's spell, which he guessed was still in place regardless of what Fari had said.

He didn't need magic to sniff out his friend. The moment he saw Safar appear on the hill he knew his intention.

And when he heard his voice ring out, "This way, Iraj!" he knew it was more than a challenge. It was an invitation. An invitation that fit perfectly into Iraj's plans.

So he said, "Why don't we end this pretense, Safar? We've been friends-and enemies-much too long to be dishonest with one another. I am here for one reason, there is no other. And that reason is-"

"To ask my help?" Safar said, cutting him off.

He'd meant to be sarcastic, but when he saw Iraj's reaction he was surprised how close he'd come to the mark. He quick-sniffed the magical array against him. Double checked his defenses. Then he sensed it! A threat from Iraj he hadn't noticed before. He glanced at Iraj's spell brothers, noticing their growing awareness that something was amiss. And it wasn't Safar. It was-

"Listen to me, Iraj," he hissed, moving quickly, swiftly rearranging his plans. "You think I'm here to kill you. I won't deny it. But the main reason is to stop that machine!" He jerked his chin, indicating the stone temple. "Help me with it," he said. "Help me if you want to be free! That's what you want, isn't it? To be free?"

Iraj recoiled, shocked that Safar had guessed his secret. Shocked even more at the pitying look on Safar's face and the humiliating offer of rescue. So shocked he didn't notice Fari sniff the air, then stiffen in alarm.

Iraj shouted: "To the Hells with you, Safar Timura. I can free myself!"

All his pent up fury of emotions exploded and Protarus drew back to cast the spell.

But before he could act he heard Fari shout: "Betrayal, brothers!"

Then Luka: "Kill the king!"

And Kalasariz, crying "Kill them both!"

And then three great wolves rose up to ravage Iraj, so furious and strong in their combined wrath they caught him by surprise. His mind had been fixed on Safar, not the others, and now he saw the error.

Iraj had the sudden vision of the child he'd killed, the child in the dream who was only a boy, too young to be in the mountains. The child who was first Tio, then Safar, and he'd killed them over and over again until only one face was left.

His own!

And Iraj suddenly understood. Awareness struck like a thundering dawn over Kyrania. Despair instantly followed and he thought, This is it … I'm too late … I'm a fool from beginning to end…

Then the wolves rushed in and Iraj cast the spell, shouting: "Safar! Safar!"

Safar gathered in Iraj's spell. He was surprised at the strength of it. But he was even more surprised at the spell's suddenly changed intent. Iraj's cry of "Safar! Safar!" echoed in his head, resounding like temple bells. "Safar! Safar!" A shout of contrition.

Safar slammed the door to a torrent of conflicting thoughts and emotions. Working quickly, very quickly, he absorbed the power of the spell. Never mind Iraj. Never mind what was happening to him now.

Never mind repentance, never mind forgiveness, never mind, never mind…

…Safar heard the wolves coming for him, their howls filling his ears, shriveling his heart. Coming so fast he realized he was taking too long and he fumbled at the complexity of the spell. Trying to put it together, knowing he was too late, too late, and he was only a boy, too young to be in the mountains and this was the end of him.

And once more he heard Iraj cry, "Safar!"

Suddenly he knew the answer.

Prayed he knew the answer.

He flung the paper into the air, shouting, " Syrapis! "

And the world became a white hot explosion.