Demon Night, page 16
“Citizens!” Uss called out. “Silence, please, I beg you. I have a grave announcement to make, and we will all need our courage and determination to see us through this troubled time. You must know that last night our beloved Mistress Hefei died a painful and violent death at the hands of the Zamorans.”
The roar as of a thousand thunders bellowed up towards Uss from the crowd below. Uss called for silence and understanding; he stepped forward, waving his arms. Slowly, the harsh tumult abated. Those citizens and soldiers directly before the temple began to swarm up the steps in their efforts to hear better.
“Harken!” yelled Uss, waving his lean arms. “We need no longer fear for our Mistress, for the Zamorans can harm her no more than they already have. Rather, we must avenge her, who did her utmost all her life to protect us all from the Earth-folk. We must storm this palace, which the Zamoran looters have made their stronghold, and slay them all. What say you, people of Elkad?”
A great roar of affirmation went up from the crowd.
Gevem, meanwhile, standing upon a parapet of the castle, turned to a hard-faced archer at his side and asked: “Can you send me a shaft through the heart of that fool?”
“It’s a long shot, my lord,” said the soldier. “Yet, I have made many another as difficult.”
“Then try it—and five pieces of silver if you hit the mark.”
The archer nocked a shaft, stood for a moment judging the distance, then raised his bow. No breeze stirred the air. Smoothly, in one motion, the man drew back the shaft and released. The bow twanged; the arrow sped out and downward in a long, graceful arc—and caught Uss directly between the shoulder-blades. The priest threw up his arms and tumbled backwards.
“The devils make sport of us!” roared the maddened populace. “Our city is damned!”
Upstairs in the palace, Keldum watched what was happening. Gevem came striding into the room.
“Fool!” Keldum spat, pulling on his armor and tightening it.
Gevem watched him. “What are you doing? Are you going to go out there and try to fight that mob?”
Keldum snorted. “Fight them? No, no. You fight them, Gevem, since you’re so eager to give orders without my approval. My command is meaningless. You take it. You’re on your own now—one of the hostage priests is going to lead me out of this city in exchange for his freedom. I’m going after Red Sonja.”
For an instant Gevem was astounded; then he laughed out loud. “Of course!” Gevem said. “You’ve led all of us into peril, you saw our men butchered by that sorcerer, you allowed dissension to rise up against us in this city—and we’re no closer to Red Sonja than we ever were! We could all come out of this rich if you were a reasonable man, but in spite of this—in spite of all that’s sane—you’re going to go after that damned woman again!
“Watch your tongue, you idiot.”
“Idiot? You’re a maniac!” Gevem yelled. “You’re a damned rutting fool!’
“I said, watch your tongue!”
Gevem only laughed scornfully. “I saw it in you from the start, Keldum,” he sneered. “The ambition, the pride, the irresponsibility—all of it. Let the world go to hell, right, Keldum? No one will stop you from getting whatever you want, will they?”
Keldum growled lowly: “Are you looking for me Gevem?”
“Are you, Keldum? You’ve fostered it. Now you turn your back on it and ride away on the excuse that—”
Keldum strode forward menacingly, fists clenched at his sides. Gevem reacted by knocking over a table into Keldum’s way, jumping back and drawing his blade.
“Come ahead, fool!” Gevem cried. “I’d love to kill you! I’d love to present your head to the fort, because you’re the one responsible for Vos’ death! You did it all to bring that red-haired wench into your power.”
Keldum grunted and leaped the overturned table, drawing his sword and swinging furiously. The two blades clashed resoundingly together, and Gevem’s went flying from his numbed hand.
Keldum approached, a mirthless smile on his face. Gevem found himself backed into a corner. Fear sprang into his eyes. He trembled; sweat sprang out on his brow.
“I have been loyal to you,” he gasped. “Would you slay me?”
“Ha! Shall I dishonor my steel with dog’s blood?” snarled Keldum. Then, suddenly, he drew back his left arm and struck Gevem a great blow in the face. Gevem fell senseless to the floor.
Sheathing his sword, Keldum turned and hastened away through a curtained doorway without a backward glance.
Gevem coughed as his senses slowly returned; before he could rise, however, there were fierce, loud poundings at a closed door.
“Captain Keldum! Captain Keldum! Open up! The mobs are trying to break into the palace! Captain Keldum!” Gevem stirred feebly, finally managed to struggle to his feet. He staggered to the door; then, with an effort, he managed to unbolt and open it.
“What is it?” he asked groggily.
In their excitement, the soldiers in the hall did not even question that it was Gevem who answered them, and not Keldum.
“The entire city has gone mad!” cried one of them. “They’re trying to break into the palace. There are mobs in the square fighting one another. Some of the people want to leave the city, but the soldiers have locked the gates—they’re trying to conscript everyone who can fight!” Gevem listened—and heard, now, the riotous low thunder from the mobs outside, the sounding of gongs and the loud tolling of temple bells, the clangor of metal weapons, the screams of hate and rage. Stones and weapons clattered against the walls of the palace; booted feet were hastening to the defense in the corridors.
Gevem took charge. Ignoring his aching jaw, he retrieved his sword, pushed his way through the men and hurried down the hall, heading for the stairs.
“Where is Captain Keldum?” asked one of the men.
“Gone!” Gevem yelled back, as he hurried down. “He’s left the city—he’s returning to try to capture the Hyrkanian!”
“You’re lying!’ charged one of those behind him.
Gevem turned and faced them. “Am I? Go look for yourself if you doubt! Keldum led us into this butchery and now he’s abandoned us—he’s left us all to go to the hells while he tries to capture Red Sonja!”
The Zamorans stood dumbfounded.
“Now come on!” Gevem yelled. “Have you barricaded all the doors? Have you removed our wounded to the upper chambers? Hurry! Get into the armory and distribute weapons to anyone who can stand on two feet! Hasten, you dogs—-we’re fighting for our lives!”
That spurred them. The soldiers rushed down the stairs past Gevem to do as he’d ordered. And Gevem, cursing, came after them.
At the bottom of the stairs stood one of the temple priests. Despite the growing confusion and alarm within the palace, this young man made no move to protect himself or hasten to anyone’s aid. Gevem glanced at him as he reached the bottom of the steps.
“More blood!” the priest muttered. “But it will not matter. The time of the Folk has come, even as Muthsa foretold.”
Gevem turned on him. “What did you say, you ill-omened croaking-bird? Why aren’t you with the rest of the hostages?”
The priest fixed him with eyes which, though somewhat bloodshot, were level and candid. “I said it will not matter, Zamoran. This has grown beyond the control of human effort. Our time is at hand, our end is here. Now shall our roles be played as it is ordained. None of this was caused by Keldum or Hefei or any of you; it is god-reckoned. Protest as you will—fight as you will—it can only make the end more chaotic. It will not matter.”
Impatient, Gevem snarled gruffly and hurried away from one he felt was a madman.
* * *
Sonja discovered Tiamu’s absence when she awoke. She was amazed to see that the sun indicated that it was past midafternoon. Rising, she found that her muscles were stiff from long sleep.
“Saureb!” she cried out. “Why have I slept so long? Did you lay a spell on me? Where are you, you damned wizard—and where is Tiamu?”
Saureb strode into the cave from outside. His gnarled wooden staff was in his hand, and his face was grim.
“The girl has gone down into Elkad,” he said, “even as her fate ordained.”
Sonja glared at him, dumbfounded.
“Fate is in all things,” Saureb went on. “Is it not strange that this girl was named after the star Tiamu—and that even now that star hastens toward a conjunction such as has not occurred for many a generation? Tonight, at sunset, the moon shall rise and occult that very star.”
“Saureb—you let her go to the city!”
“Aye. And now, Sonja, is the time of your own choice. Will you ride after her, or will you pick up again the lone life you led before becoming involved in this maelstrom of Fate?”
Her reply was to rush outside for her horse.
Saureb heard her cry of alarm. “My mount is gone! Tiamu has taken my horse!”
Sonja reentered the cave, her teeth showing in a snarl.
“Did you know she’d done this, Saureb?”
“Yes.”
“She wants to kill the Zamoran who raped her, the little idiot! Yesterday she asked me to teach her to fight. But she can’t ride a horse—she doesn’t know the first thing! Damn you, Saureb, why did you let her go?”
“She can ride, for she wants to. Her will is strong enough.”
Sonja was red-faced. “And that’s all you have to say?”
Saureb’s eyes were sad. He shook his head—and listened.
Thunder rumbled, echoed…
“Soon the moon will rise,” he said, looking out the cave to the east. “There will be fire in the streets of Elkad tonight —and an end to their misery, I think.”
Sonja went to his table, hungry after her long sleep. She picked up an apple, bit into it—but then threw it away in her anger
“Erlik’s throne! Saureb, listen to me…”
Saureb turned his back on her, entered the deeper rooms of his cave.
Sonja hesitated. The sorcerer’s manner seemed more forbidding than usual. Then she remembered when she had seen him bending over Tiamu’s sleeping form, possibly whispering to her. Had he been implanting sorcerous thoughts in her mind—thoughts she would later obey…?
Clutching her sword-pommel, she resolutely strode through the curtain that partitioned off Saureb’s chambers. Several oil lamps were lit. In the inner chamber Sonja found — the wizard seated, staring into the circular mirror that hung upon the stone wall. She strode up to him.
“You used that girl, didn’t you!” she said in a voice as hard as the steel she wore. “You’d better tell me that she’ll survive whatever you’ve sent her to do.”
Saureb ignored her statement and its threat.
“Look at them!” he exclaimed, staring into his mirror as Sonja strode up behind him. His voice rang with hard contempt.
The mirror, to her astonishment, showed the violence of the city: swirling mobs of citizens storming the doors of the palace, soldiers cutting down women and children under the direction of crazed priests, twisted faces shrieking curses at the gods. Other mobs of screaming citizens were trying to force through the city’s southern gates; soldiers held them back, but the people, armed with staves and axes and farming tools, were battling for their lives and their freedom, and the great gates began to give way. Children and old folk fell underfoot and were heedlessly crushed as the throng pushed on.
Sonja, alarmed, said in a growling voice: “Show me Tiamu.”
“I cannot. She carries the wand of Belthal and Omidom, which protects its possessor from all sorcery. I have no control over it…”
“She—she carries the wand?” cried Sonja.
Saureb turned to her, scowling. “Aye. Now, watch!”
Howling faces, bloody weapons and panicked horses flowed and swirled within the mirror like voiceless spirits tossed in a tempest of hell. Sonja felt her blood rising, her anxiety growing, as she witnessed the violence. And now she saw other scenes—wild mobs within the temple, crying out for mercy and vengeance.
Saureb bent near the mirror.
“Can you hear them?” he growled. “No, no, you cannot! But listen: they ask for the gods to save them, and to destroy the Zamorans. Listen to them: ‘Ye gods, ye gods, release us from our persecutors!’ Even unto my great mentor Zarutha do they cry, as to a god. Listen: ‘The demons! The demons! Send the demons to destroy our enemies!’ Listen to them, listen! Still they persist in their hatred and rage—and still they know not why their doom impends. Soon they shall all perish—the rulers for their cruelty and lust for power, the people for their cruelty and their cowardice, and the Zamorans for their cruelty and their greed for conquest. Their cup of iniquity is full, and now shall they quaff it down to the dregs!”
Sonja placed a firm hand on Saureb’s shoulder. “I can’t allow you to do this to them! This is not the work of gods, Saureb— it’s your work.”
“Not mine alone. They’ve brought it on themselves Sonja, and now the strands of Fate—”
“Such blather!” snarled Sonja. “A fate ordained by you!”
Saureb rose to his feet and glared at her. “You cannot halt — it, Sonja. I am but a link in a chain—and that is another rule of — responsibility. They have filled their cup—now they must — drink of it. I could not stop it if I wished.”
Sonja drew back, fire in her blue eyes, and slowly pulled her sword from its scabbard. “I will not allow it, Saureb!”
Saureb, wholly ignoring the sword-point aimed at his heart, shook his head sadly. “You have not understood anything that I have told you, have you? Or are you just stubborn?”
“I’m just stubborn. I’m not going to allow you to destroy that city, Saureb. Do you understand?”
“It is beyond me, Sonja. Do you understand? You cannot avert Elkad’s doom, because in a way it is already accomplished!”
“Saureb…”
Suddenly a violent concussion cut short Sonja’s words—a trembling within the mountain. It rocked Sonja on her feet, throwing her off balance. She grabbed out for any support, stumbled against the cave wall. Saureb, himself thrown, clutched at a table to hold himself erect.
Then a sudden red darkness filled the chamber. Sonja stared in surprise to see it emanating from the mirror—for within its burnished surface there floated and seethed and swam thousands of hideous, phantasmal forms. She stared at them, tried to look away, could not. Huge, red-toothed maws—ripe, purple eyes—claws and talons—beautiful, feathery creatures with hatred and hunger and wild fury somehow limned in their strange, unhuman features…
Sonja felt a sickness in the pit of her stomach, felt herself dizzying beneath the pressure of the red darkness that swelled within the cave. She threw a hand over her eyes, regained part of her senses and looked up again, straight into Saureb’s stern face. “The—Earth-folk?” she asked breathlessly.
“They demand release,” he told her. “The forces are stirring, and they feel it. The city is erupting and they hunger for the feast. And they sense that you are trying to thwart them. Now, get out!”
He shoved her away. Sonja, stumbling, strangely numbed by the eerie vision she had seen, allowed Saureb to force her from the chamber.
Behind, she heard weird, wailing, musical sounds— glimpsed wave upon wave of crimson light washing upon the walls like thrown dye—heard scrapings and titterings and moaning sounds, unhuman as the damned:
“It is the time!” roared Saureb, giving Sonja one last shove.
She fell to her knees in the outer cave, shook her head and retrieved her sword, scabbarded it. Then she looked up dizzily and turned, looked toward the farther chambers.
She could not see Saureb; he had pulled closed the draperies to hide himself from her sight. But she could see the ebb and flow of red shadows seeping around the perimeter of those draperies—a liquid, red effulgence sifting solidly in the air, then drawing back as if with a breath, seeping and drawing back. And she could hear Saureb’s wild voice intoning in an archaic chant:
“Shine, O Kaiphal! Shine, thou great red star! Beam down thy rays upon Elkad. Already art thou conjunct with Kykranosh, and soon shall the Moon arise. Awake, O Omidom, greatest of the Primal Ones! Thy servants stir; soon shall they bear up to thee on Kaiphal’s rays the feast which is prepared—a feast of the souls of men! Shine, O Tiamu, and hasten onto thy conjunction! Arise, O Moon, and shine down upon the fate of Elkad!”
Shivering—because a sudden chilliness had sprung up in the cave, emanating from Saureb’s farther chamber—Sonja collapsed upon a chair. She felt, more strongly than ever, the strange evil that permeated this region. The weird noises from Saureb’s chambers hammered at her mind, distracted her, filled her with anxiety. She felt confused, unsure, fatigued. What could she do…?
Forcing herself to rise, she walked to the mouth of the cave. She closed her eyes in an effort to calm herself, breathed deeply several times, then looked down into the valley. There was the city, but she could not tell from this distance what violence was occurring there. And then, suddenly, she thought she saw a lone rider coming up the mountainside.
Tiamu, returning?
A surge of new strength welled up within Sonja. Tiamu? She hastened down from the cave to see.
Chapter Eleven
Tiamu had reached the walls of the city just as the northern gate was forced open by the mobs within. Violent crowds vomited forth into the plains outside, still battling with those soldiers who pursued them. In the melee, none paid any attention to Tiamu who, sore and tired from her ride on a near-uncontrollable mount, was knocked from her saddle amid the whirlwind of shouting, running, fighting, bleeding refugees.
Frantically the girl scrambled to her feet and sought to push her way through the violence. Her cloak, which she had taken from the cave of the sorcerer, was ripped from her shoulders by a desperate old woman, who vanished back into the crowd. Yet Tiamu managed to make her way out of the mainstream of the turmoil, to run gasping to the wall and hug he stones in her sudden fear, to sink down in the weeds and broken debris that littered the base.
