Lords of Destruction (10 page)

The whack of an arrow striking into living meat, followed by hissing, came
from within a bush to the right of Robin.

She shrieked, scattering back, and Gath, bursting forward, ripped his axe
from its saddle scabbard. With his body cocked like a catapult and his axe
weaving in front of him, he planted himself between Robin and the bush, his
expression as cold as the steel of a butcher’s knife.

BEHIND THE BUSH

A
serpentine shadow whipped about within the bush, breaking branches and
scattering leaves, then spilled out and thudded on the moss. A snake with a body
as thick as a milk bucket. It was withered, oozing fumes between rotting scales,
and wore brown, gold and black diamonds on its writhing torso, the natural
jewelry of a Sadoulette python.

Gath’s axe came down, splitting the snake in two parts. The two lengths
thrashed about as if searching for each other. One wiggled across the moss,
while the larger portion with the head crawled back into the bush to hide. But
its poor condition gave it away. Thick green fumes flecked with sputtering blood
spewed from the reptile’s mouth and wounds.

Robin, peering over a raised arm, gasped in terror.

Gath grunted contemptuously, letting her know he had played with this kind of
demon spawn before. He stuck his axe upright in the ground, two-handed the snake
and swung it over his head, crushing its skull against a boulder.

Grunting annoyance, he tossed the body aside like a useless length of rope
and stepped back.

The reptile rolled off the rock and plopped on the ground. There was a steel
crossbow bolt in the snake’s skull directly between the eyes.

Gath pulled his axe out of the ground, his wary eyes on the forest, hunting
for whoever had fired the bolt. Robin cringed behind his shoulder, her large
eyes wide with fear. Suddenly she gasped with shock and clutched her cloak
tightly about her.

A shadowed figure had emerged from the forest shadows, just beyond the bush.
Some fifteen strides beyond the figure, peering calmly between the black bodies
of the trees, was a dappled grey stallion. The figure moved, and a young man
wearing finely cut leather clothing advanced slowly into the moonlight, leveling
a loaded crossbow at Gath.

“Oh, no!” whispered Robin breathlessly.

The young man bowed in reply, and in a formal but concerned tone, said to
her, “I’m sorry, I came as fast as I could, but lost your trail in the dark.”

“That’s all right,” she
said hurriedly. “I appreciate your trying to help me. But there’s no need. I’m
in no danger.”

“Perhaps,” the young man said, doubt hard in his tone. “We’ll let Brown John
decide that. Now, move quickly and get on my horse before this large ape turns
wild again.” A low growl rumbled from Gath’s mouth, and the intruder waved his
crossbow at him. “Just stay put I won’t hurt you unless I have to.”

“Don’t,
Jakar!” Robin moaned, stumbling forward. Gath lifted an arm and she stopped
behind it, her eyes pleading. “Please, Jakar, I really do appreciate what you’re
trying to do, but it’s not necessary. He won’t harm me!”

“Just get on my horse, fluff.”

“Jakar, please!” Robin begged. “Go away.”

“I can’t do that.” He nodded at the dead snake. “This forest is full of these
slimy demons, and they seem as eager to tear you apart as the large one here.”
His eyes met Gath’s. “Now, if she is truly in no danger, kindly let her get on
my horse.”

Holding Robin in place, Gath studied the young man’s hard, haunted eyes. Out
of curiosity, he asked, “You are the Jakar that helps the bukko, Brown John?”

Jakar nodded.

“He sent you to follow me?”

“No. It was my idea.”

Gath wiped blood from his chin with the back of his hand, glanced at it,
turning his hand in the moonlight, then looked up at Jakar thoughtfully. “If you
truly serve the bukko, ride back and tell him Robin has come to no harm, and
that I am returning with her.”

“Yes,” urged Robin. “We’re coming now.”

Jakar lifted his crossbow, shaking his head behind it. “You’re coming with
me.”

“Oh, Jakar, please,” begged Robin. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

Gath, his head tilting to one side like a cat’s, asked flatly, “Why do you
argue? Do you wish to die?”

Jakar, without expression, replied, “I never gave it a thought.”

Gath smiled. He liked the answer. “Go tell the bukko,” he said, and turned
his back on him.

Jakar’s face flushed with angry pride, and he whispered harshly, “Don’t turn
your back on me, large one.”

“Oh, no,” moaned Robin. “Don’t, please.”

Gath casually dropped his axe back in its saddle scabbard, and began to
rearrange the horned helmet inside the saddlebag, keeping his back to the young
man.

“Turn around,” Jakar threatened, “or…”

He stopped short as Gath’s head slowly revolved, his brutal eyes glittering
behind a metal shoulder. Jakar unconsciously took a step back, lost balance on
the soft moss, and his crossbow dipped sideways. Gath whipped an arm around,
like a bolt of jagged lightning in the moonlight, and threw the helmet.

Jakar’s crossbow whipped back into place. The horned helmet hit it,
splintering the weapon and dislodging the metal shaft into overhanging branches,
then bounded off into nearby foliage.

Jakar looked down in shock at his broken weapon, threw it aside, drew his
knife.

Robin screamed, “No!”

Jakar charged, more careful now and with agile movements. Gath let him come,
his expression almost indifferent. Suddenly he stepped in, catching the knife
blade on his chain mail, and drove a fist into the side of Jakar’s head. Jakar
dropped facedown in the moss and did not move.

Robin raced to him and sank beside his fallen body, shielding it with her own
and sobbing, “Don’t! Don’t hurt him. Please.” She looked up into Gath’s hard
eyes. “Please, Gath, don’t. He… he doesn’t know what he’s doing. He’s all
mixed up. He’s hurt, terribly hurt. He loved his sister deeply.”

Gath said, “I won’t hurt him.” He retrieved his helmet, stuffed it back into
the saddlebag. “Come, get in the saddle.”

“But I can’t leave him here. He’s hurt.”

Gath, without looking at her, buckled the saddlebag, saying harshly, “If you
wish to help him, let him help himself. That will heal his pride far more
quickly than your pity.”

Robin hesitated. When Gath looked back at her, she nodded. “I know you’re
right, but I can’t.”

“I will not wait here for you to coddle him.” His voice was impatient. “I
must return to Rag Camp and talk with the serpent queen! Get in the saddle.”
“No,” she said. “I’m not going to leave him.”

His eyes studied her thoughtfully, and the memories of their times together
once more passed through his mind. Then he said, “He is your man, isn’t he?”

Without looking at Gath, she shook her head. “I hardly know him.”

“Perhaps,” he said quietly. “But you wish to be as free of me as I do of
you.”

She lifted her wet eyes to his. “I didn’t say that. You’re the one who’s
always saying we’re finished.” He nodded. “We will both be free.” There was no
compromise in his tone.

He strode to her, plucked Jakar out of her arms and threw him over the saddle
of the dappled grey.

He put the broken crossbow in its saddle holster, mounted his stallion,
drawing Robin up behind him, then led the grey into the dark forest, heading for
Rag Camp.

THE PLOT THICKENS

M
orning sunlight spilled over the crest of Stone Crossing and streamed in
wide golden bars across Rag Camp, splashing over Brown John’s huge house wagon.
It now stood in the middle of the clearing, and was being prepared for the road.
Three elderly Grillards were harnessing a team of four draft horses in thick
padded collars to its shafts, while others were loading it with provisions,
scraping off its bright red paint and nailing filthy totems to it. Disguising
it.

Brown John stood to one side watching, his thumbs hooked in his belt. His
body was rocking and his smile dancing, like a puppetmaster pulling strings.

He turned to Cobra, who stood behind him studying the edge of the forest with
gloomy pessimism, and said lightheartedly, “Stop worrying, woman! Gath and Robin
will come back. I can feel it in the air. Good times are coming now.”

“Shhh, bukko,” she said quietly. “Optimism makes me nauseous, particularly in
the morning.” He laughed. “If you’re afraid he won’t go along with our plans, don’t be. He knows little about maps or sorcery or castles,
and he’ll listen to me… you can count on that.”

“I am counting on it,” she said frankly, and suddenly smiled. “Here they
come.”

Gath and Robin had emerged from the forest riding the black stallion. She sat
behind the huge Barbarian, hanging on to him with one hand and using the other
to wipe smudges off her cheeks. His scabbed face was slightly more beastlike
than his bloody chain mail, and her cloak was filthy, badly torn.

Twenty paces behind them, Jakar followed on the dappled grey. He held the
broken pieces of his crossbow, and there was a ragged bandage wrapped around his
forehead, just above an expression of angry humiliation. But there was no
surrender in his eyes, only bitter resolve, more than the
bukko
thought
was healthy for one so young.

“Holy Zard!” Brown John exclaimed. “Look at them! You’d think Robin was
playing the ravaged bride in
Up by Lamplight
and that both Jakar and Gath
had done the ravaging. Well, this is no time to worry about it. They’re safe,
that’s what counts.” He turned to Cobra. “Leave it to me now.”

“Of course,” she said. “It’s your plot.” Her smile was flattering enough to
make a three-legged chair behave like it had four.

Grinning as if he deserved such flattery, he moved to Robin as Gath reined up
beside the water trough. “By Veshta, lass,” he sighed, helping her down, “I am
glad to see you.” He glanced up at Gath. “And you too, friend.”

Gath nodded behind an easy smile, and their eyes shared that silent trust and
understanding which bonded them, both instantly seeing that each knew the
gravity and size of the danger Robin now faced.

“What’s the plot, old friend?” Gath asked from his saddle.

“We’re going on the road again!” Brown John answered, his eyes becoming
reckless. “But there will be no army to lead this time. It will just be the five
of us.” He took Robin by the elbow, guiding her toward the wagon. “And you,
lass, must get suitably dressed. We leave as soon as possible.”

“But where are we going?”

“That will all be explained later. All you have to understand is that from
this moment on, we are no longer Grillards, but low, vulgar, outlawed traveling
players. The very worst you could imagine! Whores and whoremasters.” The glint
in his eyes danced at the prospect. “So you must dress like it. Rags would be
preferable, and don’t wash. The filthier you are, the better.”

She nodded, also liking the excitement of the idea. “And my hair?”

“We’ll dye it once we’re under way.” He chuckled. “Butterfly, we’re going to
take the stage away from these demons, and your part is essential. Now hurry!
Hurry!”

He opened the wagon door and pushed her stumbling up the iron rung steps and
inside, closing it after her.

The
bukko
sighed and glanced back at the trough. Gath and Jakar had
dismounted and were watering their horses, as Cobra watched. Jakar’s ear was
caked with blood, and it stained the water as he washed his face. Brown John
moved to him and asked, “Are you all right, lad? Can you travel?”

“Don’t worry about me,” Jakar said.

“I’m not,” Brown John said bluntly. “What I want to know is, are you able to
drive a wagon? A big one?” Jakar glanced at the
bukko
’s huge house wagon
and nodded. “Good!” the
bukko
exclaimed. “Then our cast is set.”

Gath glanced at the large house wagon. Its red paint was nearly gone now, and
the elderly Grillards were still loading it with provisions. “A long journey?”
he asked.

“Yes,” Brown John said flatly. “North to Small Tree, then directly west
across the Barrier Mountains into the Forbidden Lands.” He smiled. “We’re going
to hide Robin in the one place they will never think to look for her.” He paused
dramatically. “And steal the means to destroy her enemies.”

Gath thought about that, then looked at the surrounding forest. “And the
spies watching us now?”

“By the time we reach Small Tree,” he looked at Cobra, “she will have devised
a way to draw them out so you can get rid of them. After that, with proper
disguises, no one will have any idea who we truly are. There will be dangers, of
course, there always are in the Forbidden Lands. But those hunting Robin will
never think to look for her there.”

“Our destination?” Gath asked.

“The castle of the Nymph Queen… Pyram.” Gath’s eyes questioned him, and
he added, “I know, nobody knows where Pyram is. Nobody, that is, except for the
trusted agents of the Master of Darkness.”

Gath and Jakar both turned to Cobra, and she nodded without expression.

“Actually,” Brown John continued, “Cobra does not know the way herself. But
she knows where we can obtain a map.” He smiled knowingly at Cobra. “It’s in a
grotto, somewhere within the Barrier Mountains. More than that, she refuses to
tell us… at least for now.” He turned back to Gath. “She will only guide us to the map if we give our word she will be allowed to accompany
us all the way to Pyram.” Gath, his hard eyes on Cobra, chuckled accusingly.
“Just what is there in Pyram that she wants so much?”

“I’ll answer that, bukko,” Cobra said, her voice cold and flat. “Within
Tiyy’s castle there is a treasure, one of extraordinary proportions. If we are
able to steal even a portion of it, and with your help I think there is more
than a reasonable chance of that, then my share would provide me the means with
which to regain my wealth… and power.”

Gath hesitated, his eyes boring into hers, then turned to the
bukko.
“Just what are we going to steal, Brown?”

“The answer to all our problems, friend,” Brown John replied. The glint
behind his eyes was suddenly as reckless as a bouncing rubber ball descending a
flight of stairs. “Pyram’s is no ordinary treasure, but a fabled one. Gems not
only worth a world’s ransom, but spilling over with magical powers. Diamonds,
rubies and sapphires which have been hidden from the sight of ordinary men for a
thousand years… the jewels of the holy White Veshta, the Goddess of Light.”

Gath glanced suspiciously at Cobra and she nodded. “They are there, Dark
One. They have been there since long, long ago when my former master subdued the
White Veshta and gave them to his favored consort, the Black Veshta. And I know
where they are kept… I grew up in Pyram.”

Brown John chuckled with relish. “You see, Gath, it’s the perfect plot. We
can’t fail. And once we steal them, all we have to give her is two or three
stones as payment for her part.”

“As I said before, bukko,” Cobra said flatly, “we will discuss my payment after we have seen the stones and measured their
wealth and powers.”

“Yes, of course,” agreed Brown John, his eyes on Gath. “But
there is bound to be plenty for all.” Gath asked Cobra, “No one has seen the
jewels?”

“No one… except for Tiyy, the Nymph Queen.” Gath studied her erect
figure as the morning sunlight sculpted her voluptuous body with brilliant
white-gold light, hiding nothing, yet enhancing her mystery. Then, without
looking at his friend, he said in a matter-of-fact tone, “She’s enchanted you,
Brown. Made you believe her lies.”

“No! No!” the
bukko
protested. “This entire scheme is my idea. I’ve
known for years that the sacred jewels were held in Pyram, and it was only by
chance that she mentioned she knew of a map leading there.”

“She says nothing by chance,” Gath said, his eyes holding Cobra’s.

Brown John looked at the serpent woman warily, then said, “Perhaps you’re
right. But it makes no difference. If the map leads anyplace other than Pyram,
Jakar will tell us. He’s seen it. From a great distance, it’s true, but there’s
no mistaking it, is there, lad?” Jakar shook his head, and the
bukko
added, “Besides, an opportunity like this simply cannot be ignored, regardless
of the risks. These jewels are a veritable cornucopia of magical wonders. They
have the power to turn the entire world upside down, and then make it over in
the manner it should have been made in the first place. And we… you and I,
Gath of Baal,” he held out upturned hands, “we can hold them in our hands…
set them free!”

Gath eyed him skeptically.

“I know it sounds mad,” the old man said, his tone deliberately mocking
himself. “The road will be plagued with demons which only Black Veshta herself
can imagine. But if you and I aren’t the ones to jump off cliffs and attempt the
impossible, then no one will. Besides, isn’t this precisely what you want to do?
Stealing the jewels would strike a blow at the Master of Darkness far greater
than even you dreamed of. The jewels are the source of power with which the
sorceress Tiyy, by corrupting their powers of light into those of darkness,
creates her unholy demon spawn.” Gath’s eyes hardened, and the bukko added,
“There’s also a very personal reason for you to steal them.”

He turned to Cobra expectantly, and she said, “Tiyy used the powers of the
jewels to fashion the horned helmet… and the power that gives the helmet
control over you is the same power that can remove it.”

Gath’s eyes smiled, and he said, “I suddenly like your plot, old friend.”

“I thought you might,” said the
bukko.
“But there is one danger we
should discuss before beginning. Once this Nymph Queen finds out she has the
wrong girl, she will undoubtedly send this sharkman back to find her. And since
we are entering her domain on the road by which he will be returning, there is
the chance we may meet him. In that event we should avoid him… but Cobra
fears the helmet may not let you. In fact, she fears if you put the helmet back
on, there will be no need for these demons to come after Robin… that you’ll
do their work for them.” He hesitated, then added, “I, for one, don’t think
you’ll give in to that headpiece, not for a minute! But I promised I’d question
you.”

Gath smiled, and glanced at Cobra, saying, “Have no fear, woman. I will do
whatever I have to do.” His tone carried the finality of a hammered nail.

“Then it begins,” Brown John chortled, and Gath nodded.

On cue, the door of the red wagon swung open, and Robin tripped lightly down
the steps. Seeing everyone look at her, she came to an embarrassed stop and
covered her breasts with her arms. Then, laughing at herself, she lowered her
arms and presented herself, turning in the morning sunlight. She wore a skirt of
bright yellow rags low on narrow hips, a band of fuchsia cloth that conformed to
high, firm breasts the way the skin of the pear conforms to the pear, and
sunlight in her red-gold hair. There was no make-up on her face, except for the
rouge of excitement.

Brown John murmured approvingly, “Well done, child, well done.”

“Is… is it all right?” blurted Robin.

“Nearly perfect, child,” extolled the
bukko
, “but bind your breasts in
black. The fuchsia is too rich.” Robin, nodding, bounded back inside the wagon,
closing the door behind her, and Brown John turned back to the others.

Cobra’s eyes shimmered like becalmed molten gold, and her voice was low as
she spoke to the stagemaster, “I don’t mean to insult your theatrical skills,
bukko, but if the girl is to succeed in drawing out these spies, she is going to
have to play her new role, not with an entertainer’s idea of the sins of the
flesh, but with a sinner’s… and I know the part.”

“I am sure you do,”
agreed the
bukko.

“Exactly, so I suggest you allow me to prepare all elements of her
performance, including her wardrobe… just as we discussed.”

“So we did,” Brown John said reluctantly. “But you’d be smart to let her get
involved. She’s clever.”

“She’ll be involved, believe me.” Cobra turned to Gath.
“I presume, Dark One, that you agree to these arrangements, and will allow me to use the girl to draw these spies out…
without interfering?”

Gath drank from the trough using his hands, then said, “If she’s hurt, in any
way…”

“Don’t threaten me,” Cobra interrupted, her voice a commanding purr. “It’s
useless. We are joined now like links of a chain, and you cannot change it. You
want the jewels now as much as you wanted the helmet… even more. Because
only they can set you free. And without me… you will never see them.” She
hesitated, then added, “Will you cooperate or not?”

Gath nodded, but the threat remained in his eyes. “Don’t worry,” Cobra said
lightly. “The trick she will perform is one any mountain girl can do. But she is
not only going to have to dress the part of the whore… she’s going to have
to play it.”