Lords of Destruction (22 page)

He drew her roughly under him, and she groaned with pain, the scorched earth
searing her clothing and the backs of her bare shoulders. He hesitated, heaving
like a smoking mountain above, massive and powerful. Her hands took his, drawing
them to her breasts. Her voice had no will but his will. “It’s all right. It’s
all right.”

He took her then, quickly but with instinctive tenderness, the force of his
weight and searing heat penetrating her flesh and heart. Flames ignited stray
strands of her hair, but she did not notice. Her arms went around him, and she
held on like the cloud holds the thunderstorm, tears welling from her eyes.

The fury of his passion, the hot metal and the flames took their toll of her
clothing and body, but if there was pain she did not feel it. Nor would she
recall it. There was only pleasure. But not the heady erotic rapture she had
known so often before. This time it had impossible dimensions, was of a size and
softness and rapture and contentment only dreamed of by young girls. Never
before had a man as powerful and proud and deadly as Gath of Baal walked the
earth, nor would there ever be such a man made again, and she held him in her
arms.

Tonight he belonged to her.

NIGHT RIDERS

T
he string of five riders headed west by north on the Way of the Scorpion.
Their bodies were covered with dark robes, and they kept to the low ground,
galloping through the concealing gloom of defile and canyon, only crossing
moonlit mesa and hogback when the route demanded it.

Three hours had passed since they had packed their provisions on the stolen
horses, heaved the wagon into the chasm and ridden into the night. But the
string had never lost shape or strength. They rode together, with one
destination, one purpose.

Gath galloped well ahead, picking his way through the midnight darkness with
his metal head still sputtering flames like a volcanic avalanche. He wore his
black chain mail now, and the musical clinks of the metal played lightly among
the drumming of hooves on soft earth. Somehow he had mysteriously regained
control of the helmet, but he had paid a price. The flames continued to sputter
and smoke, and he had lost all ability to speak.

The
bukko
king was second in line, sitting his saddle like a
nineteen-year-old braggart soldier in love. Since they had set forth, he had
been deliberately displaying his horsemanship by guiding his horse over the most
difficult passages, always being careful to suck in his paunch, and never
failing to throw spicy glances back at Cobra, a woman young enough to be his
daughter, and seductive enough to make a fool out of any nineteen-year-old,
particularly one in his middle fifties.

Cobra followed diligently, being careful to acknowledge the
bukko
’s
performance. She kept her hood over her head and held her robe tightly about
her. Every so often, when the
bukko
was not looking, she would bend
forward in the saddle and gasp, as if in pain. But when someone would take
notice, she immediately sat erect, and rode on with determination and spirit.

Robin stayed as close to the serpent woman as she could, watching her
carefully and with concern. The girl was now so wrapped in black robes that she
looked like a billowing bag of felt.

Jakar rode at the tail of the string, with his eyes on the billowing bag. He
could not see one soft inch of Robin. Nevertheless he was enjoying the sight of
her, and the lighthearted glint in his eyes was now rooted in something more
substantial than skepticism.

When the riders broke free of the lava beds, they left the Way of the
Scorpion and plunged directly west through thickets of tamarisk and low-lying
carob trees. They veered and slashed, tearing their cloaks and scratching faces
and thighs, but did not slacken their pace. They continued in this manner for
nearly an hour, hiding their movements in every available chink and cranny, and always guided by a distant star Cobra called
Veshta’s Light. Then the thickets thinned, and they reined up abruptly, still
within the concealing growth.

Spreading in front of them were expansive mud flats, dry and hard, as white
and smooth as ice in the moonlight, and shattered like a clay plate. In the
distance, torch-bearing riders were headed in their direction. The small group
watched the torches until they passed by several hundred feet to the north and
vanished into the thickets. Spear-bearing soldiers or outlaws. It was impossible
to identify them further in the dark. When the sound of their horses faded, Gath
led the small group across the flats, using the trail torn out of the dry mud by
the night riders.

The first light of dawn was edging into the black sky when they reined up in
the bed of a narrow, intermittent stream. Behind them was a shadowy world, a
gutted landscape of tabletop mesas, canyons, rifts and fractures. In front of
them, a rolling plain rose gently through hazy darkness toward the foothills of
a mountain range. The hills were even more gently curved and appeared soft in
the dim light. They rose to fully rounded mountains that thrust voluptuously up
into the embrace of the indigo sky. They seemed endless, each rising higher and
higher. The Breasts of Veshta.

“There they are!” Cobra’s breathless voice broke as she spoke, and her smile
was weak. Nevertheless it spoke eloquently of her soaring expectations. “All…
all we have to do is cross those mountains.”

They sat exhausted and worn in their saddles, staring at the mountains, more
sensing than seeing the faint morning light eat into the darkness around them.
If they started into the plain, the sun would be beating down on them before
they were halfway across. A moment passed, and Brown John asked the question they were all
thinking.

“What do you figure, one more night? Two?” Except for Gath, they all turned
to Cobra. She was breathing heavily. Sensing their eyes, she calmed herself. “If
we leave as soon as it’s dark, we…” She hesitated, wavering weakly in her
saddle, then drew herself erect and continued, “We should make Pyram before
sunrise tomorrow.”

They smiled at that, then held still, watching the plain.

In the distance, a troop of spear-carrying riders, strung out like a writhing
black rope, had appeared heading away from them. One of the lead riders held a
banner that flapped lazily on the air. It was black with three bright red
circles on it, the mark of the Nymph Queen of Pyram.

When the soldiers vanished beyond a hill, Gath dismounted. Brown John, Robin
and Jakar did the same, then Cobra tried and fell off her horse. Brown John,
Robin and Jakar rushed to her, and the
bukko
held her in his arms,
loosening her robes as Robin pushed back the hood. Cobra’s hair was charred and
burnt short in places on one side of her head, and her neck, shoulder and cheek
were red and blistered. “Holy Bled!” exclaimed Brown John.

“What happened?” Robin asked.

“It’s all right,” Cobra said weakly.

“No, it’s not!” growled the
bukko.

“Please, Brown,” Cobra pleaded, “don’t say anything. It’s not his fault. And
I can rest all day now. I’ll be fine by dark.”

“But you’re badly hurt,” the
bukko
said. “You should have said
something.”

She shook her head. “We couldn’t have stopped to rest, and I really will be
fine.” She pushed the
bukko
’s hands aside gently. “So keep your hands to
yourself, you shameless old goat. Robin will take care of me, won’t you, lass?”

“Of course,” Robin said. “Can you walk? There’s a hidden spot just a little
ways back that looked like it might be comfortable.”

Cobra said she could walk, and they helped her to the spot Robin had spoken
of. Then, as Robin privately saw to Cobra’s wounds, the men tethered the horses
in a depression, watered them and distributed equal portions of water and food
for the group, with the exception of Cobra, who was given all her needs
required. When Robin finished with Cobra, and the serpent woman fell asleep from
the herbs the girl had given her, Brown John asked Robin how Cobra had been
hurt.

“I can’t tell you, Brown,” she said firmly. “Before she would let me attend
to her wounds, she made me promise not to speak to anyone about their nature.”

“But how badly is she hurt?”

“She’s in pain, but she’ll be all right.”

Not satisfied, he demanded, “Robin, this is the wrong time for you to be
keeping your vows. Tell me what happened.”

“I can’t,” she said, “but I will tell you this. Whatever she did, she did it
for us.”

The
bukko,
seeing he was going to get nowhere, joined Cobra to watch
over his bright cloth as she slept.

Jakar and Robin sat together under a concealing shelf of rock, and Gath sat
facing the plain behind a rock that looked a little less dangerous than he did.
He sat apart from the others in the manner of his dream, by himself.

After Jakar and Robin finished their meal, he casually asked her, “What you
said, about Cobra doing whatever she did for all of us… you made that up, right? To make
Brown John feel better?” She shook her bushy black-red hair. “That’s what she
told me to tell him. She didn’t want him to worry, you know, just in case he
would blame Gath instead of the helmet for what happened.”

“What did happen?”

“I can’t discuss it,” Robin said, ending that topic. He nodded and asked
carefully, “While you were with her, did she look at the map?”

“No. She’s exhausted.”

Another nod, and he asked, “When did she last look at it?”

Robin hesitated, frowning as best her smooth forehead allowed, and said, “I
guess it was early last night, when she gave me this robe to wear. But it was
only a glance. She hasn’t really examined it since she drew it on me.”

“That’s what I was afraid of,” Jakar said, and leaned back against the rock.
“I think she’s been lying. I think she knows the way to Pyram.”

Robin started to protest, but gave up and bunched her cheeks frumpishly under
worried eyes. “I was thinking the same thing. But why did she draw the map
then?”

“Maybe it’s not just a map.”

“You mean magic signs? Like… like before?” He nodded, once.

“Maybe I should wash it off.”

“Maybe,” he said, leaving the decision to her.

She thought about it and said, “I don’t know. She’s hurt. Hurt bad. And she
won’t complain about it. She’s very brave, and I don’t know
why, but I trust
her. And if it is a map, and she does need it, I don’t think…”

“I agree,” he said, interrupting. “But she’s hiding
something, isn’t she? You can sense it, can’t you?” She nodded. “I didn’t
notice at first. I was, well, thinking about you and me, I guess, and wasn’t
concentrating. But I can feel it now, and the closer we get to Pyram, the harder
it is for her to hide it.”

“But you still trust her, don’t you?” She smiled
weakly in reply, and he added, “Well, if you trust her, I trust her.”

She smiled at that, then frowned again. “But maybe we should tell Brown John
and Gath.”

He shrugged. “I’m sure they noticed long before we did.”

“But they didn’t say anything!”

“Wouldn’t be any point. We’re going to need her when and if we get to Pyram,
and even if she’s up to something, well, we still have a chance.”

Robin nodded lamely and sat looking off at the mountains with worried eyes.

“Frightened?” he asked.

She nodded without looking at him.

“Good, you should be,” he said. She looked at him, suddenly more frightened,
and he added, “Whatever he did to her, he can do to you.”

She took hold of her lower lip with her teeth, held it briefly, then let go
and said evenly, “I know that. I’ve known it since we started. But he won’t.
He’ll never hurt me, Jakar, believe me.”

Jakar smiled at her for a long appreciative moment, then said gently, “Fluff,
be careful. Things don’t always turn out the way you want them to.”

“Are you
afraid I couldn’t take it if they didn’t? Afraid I’d be too hurt?”

“Yes,” he said, “I am.”

That made her smile, and instinctively she touched his cheek. She started to
pull her hand away, but he caught it, stroking her fingers with his. They looked at each other for a long time before she spoke.

“You’ve changed.”

“Yes,” he said, “I just noticed that myself.”

She grinned. “I guess I’m not going to need any jewels to cure you after
all.”

“Don’t be too sure,” he warned with a skeptical smile, then his dark eyes
sobered and his voice became intense with passion. “All I can see, all I’ve ever
seen when I look at you, is an incredibly rare jewel.”

That melted her, and they gathered each other in their arms, kissing and
kissing, like young lovers in the privacy of their hearts, and all around them
the world was new.

When the sun was high in the sky, the group still sat in their hiding places,
looking across the plain at the Breasts of Veshta. Waiting. They knew they could
not move until the light had again died. Then they would cross the open ground,
keeping to the shadow-filled valleys and guts between the hills, and ride into
the mountains with their movements concealed by night’s bountiful darkness. So
they waited, silent and patient, each with their separate, yet single, dream.

NEW RECRUIT

T
iyy galloped up the mountain road, her dust billowing in the morning
sunshine. Impatient. Dirty from a long trail. Leading a detachment of her
household guards, a surly bunch wearing leather, steel, dust and violence the
way their queen wore her power. Naturally.

The nymph rode bareback, a frothing black and white horse, and was as naked
as the animal except for rawhide boots, leather breechclout and sheathed dagger
strapped to her forearm. Savage. Regal. Her spiked blond hair flagged wildly and
her dark walnut legs wore the trail dust as if it were sprinkled gold.

Reaching her recruiting depot at the heights of the Breasts of Veshta, she
reined up hard and dismounted facing Schraak as he prostrated himself in the
dirt before her. All around the compound, the border guards manning the depot
did the same: at the stables, at the mouths of the many caves pockmarking the
mountainside, and on the small parade ground fronting the caves. She looked down
at the small man’s shuddering body as if he were a hole in the ground.

His drab tunic was torn and filthy, and his body was blistered and heaving
with exhaustion. He had obviously raced from En Sakalda to meet with her just as
she had ordered him to via carrier eagle.

Without speaking to him, she glanced at a nearby group of prostrate, fearful
bat soldiers.

Spotting the officer in charge, she shouted, “Get up, Captain.” He jumped up,
and she added, “I want armed patrols guarding every trail to Pyram! And I want
every caravan, every traveler, stopped! No matter what their credentials. If
this Death Dealer is spotted among them, do not attack him, but report back to
me here. Immediately! Everyone else is to be killed. Do you understand? No
traveler is to reach Pyram alive. And strip the women so Schraak here,” she
pointed with a booted foot, “can inspect them. I am not taking any more risks.
Now send out your patrols!”

The captain saluted and ran about shouting orders. The sergeants instantly
repeated them, and the depot burst into noise and action. In moments patrols
were riding off in all directions. When they were gone, only the small depot
garrison remained and the area became quiet, motionless. All eyes watched the
young queen.

She turned back to Schraak. “So, the girl not only eludes me again, but this
time her protector kills Lord Baskt. How did this happen, worm?”

“He… he was stronger,” Schraak said hesitantly.

“What?” Tiyy snapped. “Don’t talk like a fool! Get up! Look at me and tell me
what happened.” He struggled up. “They… they fought. With sword and axe.
And the Barbarian was truly Lord Baskt’s equal. It was evident to everyone. But
when he put on the horned helmet, he was stronger.”

“Stronger?” Her tone was
incredulous.

“Yes! It’s true. I swear it!”

She nodded. “This Barbarian is proving to be almost as interesting as the
girl. What else have you learned?”

“Cobra rides with them.”

“Cobra?” Her large, sloping eyes were suddenly alarmed. “She’s alive? Are you
certain? Why didn’t your message mention this?”

“I wasn’t sure at first. She seemed different. Older. But just before they
rode off, I heard her speak and knew it was her.”

“So,” said Tiyy quietly, feeling a sudden new threat and relishing the rush
of excitement that came with it, “Cobra is alive… and has somehow allied
herself with this brute she had sworn to destroy.” She put her eyes on Schraak.
“And you say she looked older?”

“Yes. By ten years easily.”

Tiyy smiled with churlish malevolence. “Then she’s lost her powers! Become a
mere woman again! And a foolish, desperate one, at that.” Schraak frowned in
confusion, and she chuckled. “It is finally making sense why the girl has come
here to hide in my domain. Somehow Cobra is controlling her, as well as this
Death Dealer, and leading them to Pyram.”

“But that would be madness,” protested Schraak. “For anyone else, yes,” she
said, “but not for the Queen of Serpents. She has always had far more cunning
than anyone is entitled to. And with her powers gone, I doubt if there is
anything she won’t risk.” Tiyy smiled knowingly. “She is going to try and steal
the jewels. There can be no other answer. It’s the only way the slithering bitch
can regain her powers now.”

“But she could never reach Pyram!”

“Couldn’t she?” Tiyy asked mockingly. “If you believe that, then you know
nothing about the woman you once served.” She looked out over the endless
landscape of rounded hills. “She knows every trail in these mountains, even in
the dark. So they’ll travel at night to avoid my patrols.” She turned on the
small man. “And if she reaches Pyram, she’ll find a way into the castle. She
knows of tunnels in the rocks even I have not explored. And the castle garrison
is weak, perhaps even too weak to stop this Death Dealer.” She nodded to
herself. “He must be destroyed! And here! In these mountains. Tonight!” She
smiled ruefully at the dark foreboding entrance of the largest cave. “And he
will be. Get a torch and follow me.”

Schraak hurriedly found a torch, rejoined Tiyy at the mouth of the largest
cave and led her inside holding the flaming light in front of him.

Muffled fluttering greeted them and thousands of small eyes peered out of the
hovering shadows of the huge cathedral-like cave. Schraak hesitated nervously,
and the guttering torch cast moving light over row upon row of bats hanging from
the rimstone ledges, stalactites and pillars, knobs and warts. Recruits for the
nymph’s army of bat soldiers awaiting induction and transformation.

The pair moved deeper and deeper into the meandering cave, tromping on a dark
brown powder, millions of years of bat guano many feet deep. The cave grew
smaller and smaller, and at the deepest point they crossed over a natural bridge
of rock, spanning a stream, and entered a low tunnel. They followed it and came
to an interior cave over a hundred feet high. It was silent except for the
voices of wind passing through unseen flumes and holes.

Schraak used his torch to light an oil lamp carved out of the rock wall and
it guttered to life, casting an orange glow into the cavern. It appeared to be
empty. Stalactites hung from the ceiling, but the ground was cleared except for
the deep mold of bat manure. At the sides, smaller caves and tunnels opened onto
darkness, and at the back, a barred wall caged off a large shadowed gallery.

A door at the base of the cage wall was chained shut. Inside the cage was a
throne large enough to seat a pair of well-endowed elephants. It was carved out
of stone and inlaid with colored stones in the shape of cyphers and numerals and
signs. Pillows, each of them large enough to serve as a bed for a child of six,
were heaped on the seat.

The pair stopped before the chained door, and Schraak looked uncertainly from
the empty throne to his queen. Her dark cheeks had turned hot under their orchid
rouge, and her erect breasts looked suddenly untamed, as if a man would be smart
to find a whip and stick before getting in bed with them. He hesitated, peering
curiously into the cage and asked, “Is someone there?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “Lord Menefret.”

He turned sharply, gasping.

She smiled. “Yes. The transformation is almost complete. All he needs is one
more feeding.”

“But you’re not strong enough.”

“I have no choice,” she interrupted, her quarrelsome eyes turning on him.
“This Death Dealer must be found and killed tonight.”

“But what if you weaken? He could drink you dry!”

“I am aware of that. That’s why you’re here. You know my strength is not what
it should be, but the others do not. And they must not know. If,” she hesitated,
“if I do weaken, you must take me out of the cage, and not let anyone see me
until I have recovered.”

“But it’s too great a risk.”

She smiled at that and said, “What you fail to understand, Schraak, is, the
greater the risk the greater my pleasure. Now, open it!” Her breathing began to
race, and her pointed breasts heaved with budding cruelty. “Open it!”

Schraak set his torch on a rock, hurriedly ran the chains through the
grillwork, tossed them aside and swung the iron gate open with a noisy squeak.
Tiyy nimbly slipped under the low arch, and he closed the door behind her with a
discordant clang.

Slowly, he backed up to a fallen stalactite, and trembled. His grey blistered
flesh was slick with slimy sweat, and he smelled of fear.

With swift agile leaps, Tiyy mounted the rocks forming the base of the huge
throne and stood facing it. Gasping. Expectant. The front edge was level with
her petulant breasts. She took hold of it and muscled her body up, swinging her
legs onto the seat. There she stood slowly, peering into the shadows of the
gallery. Stretching sensuously, she sprawled on her back among the massive
pillows, abandoning herself to their comfort. Against their massive proportions,
she looked like a live toy doll.

Removing her mouth harp from her breechclout, she played a haunting phrase
three times, then tucked it back in place and waited. Flushed. Body subtly
undulating with anticipation.

There was no sound but the faint drip of a stalactite somewhere. No movement
but guttering torchlight too weak to penetrate the deep shadows filling the back
of the gallery. Then a speck of light glittered on something wet sixty feet
above the throne. A pair of small eyes.

Tiyy smiled coyly and said huskily, “Yes, Lord Menefret, it’s me at last. Now
come down here! Quickly! Today you will feed as I promised you you would
feed… and tonight you will have powers like none of my lords has had before.”

There was a fluttering sound, then the eyes dove forward, and a large bat
swooped into the guttering light.

It darted and dove in the air above the throne, its wings flapping, swimming
through the air rather than floating. A faint high-pitched clicking came from
it, and grew louder and louder as the sound echoed around the cave. It swept
through narrow crevices and small loops of hanging stone, passing within inches
of jagged rocks in a display of aerial acrobatics. Strong. Proud. Grotesquely
beautiful. Then it dove at Tiyy and came to a hovering stop in front of the
throne.

A vampire bat.

Its fluttering wings were a full two feet wide and made of thin, almost
transparent membrane. Its body was a dark grey-brown. Blunt muzzle hung low
between pointed ears and flaming-red eyes. A tiny onyx earring dangled from one
furry ear, a black triangle with three red circles on it.

The creature darted off, then back, this time brazenly hovering within inches
of the reclining nymph’s face. Mouth spread displaying long fangs. Eyes horrid
with hunger.

Without flinching, Tiyy smiled directly into the ravenous eyes and whispered,
“Patience, my lord. Patience.”

The furry vampire bat clicked excitedly, and its dark tongue shot out. There
were tiny grooves on its underside and in the lower lip, drinking straws that
ran back down the throat.

The Nymph Queen’s eyes thinned with desire. Her orchid cheeks pulsed. She
stirred languorously beneath the bat, sinking back against a pillow and turning
an inviting bare shoulder to its mouth.

The bat fluttered and dropped onto the fleshy perch, its clawed feet holding
the nymph’s sacred flesh without breaking the skin. Its wings spread wide
casting deep shade across her heated face, and fingerlike wingtips embraced her,
holding her by neck and hair.

Tiyy moaned slightly, and her lips parted, her breath now coming in sharp
gasps.

The grotesque muzzle opened wide, displaying a dark pink mouth filled with
sharp teeth, and the upper incisors buried their razor-sharp tips into her
earlobe. Tiyy groaned, and her knees gathered up around a pillow, the pleasure
of the brutal kiss so great she could barely bear it. Then the tongue lapped the
wound, drinking her blood.

A warmth flooded through her and she surrendered to its ecstasy. “Yes! Yes!
Drink deep. Tonight you must be strong.”

In reply the vampire bat bit deeper. She gasped with pain and took hold of
its chest, holding it in check. She let it drink, then gasped, “All right!
That’s enough.” It continued, and she pushed at it, gasping weakly, “Stop. I’m
growing faint.”

The bat let go, then bit her neck, sucking hard. She shrieked in fear and
began to beat at it, shouting, “Schraak! Schraak!”

The small man ran for the gate and fell.

Tiyy rolled across the throne, the bat clawing up ropes of her blond hair and
scratching cheeks and shoulders. “Stop! Stop!” she howled, and finally forced
him off.

He darted into the air, and shot back at her as she sat up, dropping lustily
on a thrusting breast. She screamed and fell back beating at him. Her blows had
no effect, and his incisors dipped into a lower swell, drinking ravenously.

“Aahhhhhhhh!” she moaned, and the strength went out of her arms. They fell to
her sides like speared birds, and she sank back among the pillows in total
surrender. Groaning with pleasure. Thrusting her opulent flesh to the sucking
tongue.

When Schraak came through the gate, the spectacle of the vampire rodent
embracing his holy queen stopped him cold. All color was draining from her body.
Panicking, he started up the rocks, shouting, “Stop! Stop! He’s murdering you!”

Tiyy’s eyes snapped open, and she blinked uncertainly, her eyes fogged and
vacant. Then they focused on her own shoulder. Its dark walnut flesh was turning
white.

“Arrrrggggh!” she screamed, and viciously thrust the bat away, rolling onto
her hands and knees.

The bat swooped and dropped on her back, driving her forward. She fell off
the throne and rolled on the hard ground. When she looked up, Schraak had
disappeared. Then he burst back in, thrusting his torch at the bat. It let go of
her back, darted aside and up into the blackened shadows, squealing in
complaint.