torg 03- The Nightmare Dream (25 page)

In the middle of the seven platforms, perched atop a taller platform of its own, was an obsidian statue. It was a crocodile-headed Egyptian god — the god Sebek. Cage knew what that statue was, for he was familiar with the legends associated with it. It was the Kefertiri Idol, the object of legend that Mobius sought and supposedly disappeared while trying to find.

"Do you like my decorations, Cage?" Dr. Mobius asked. "It's a very symbolic design of my own creation."

Cage finally noticed the Pharaoh. He was seated in an ornate throne, identical to the one in the Audience Chamber, overlooking a stone table. At the Pharaoh's side was Teth-Net, the Royal Marshall, and Ahkemeses, the High Priest of the Nile. On the table, strapped at her hands and ankles, was the beautiful Clemeta. A smaller table, full of bubbling vials and sharp instruments, was positioned near her head.

"Did you hear me, Cage?" Mobius asked again. "Really, if you are going to be rude I won't let you watch what we're going to do!"

"You're a madman, Mobius!" Cage exclaimed, remembering the last time they met so many years ago. "You will be brought back to Terra to answer for your crimes!"

"Crimes? I have committed no crimes. Is it a crime to use the powers I have been granted? To exercise my divine right to rule? I think not, Cage!" Mobius answered.

"As for returning to Terra, I shall do that when I am good and ready, and I shall return to finally conquer the world that created me."

Clemeta looked at Cage with large, frightened eyes. It hurt him to see her this way, tied down like some sacrifice for Mobius' dark gods. She needed him, but he had no way to free himself, no way to take the battle to the mad Pharaoh at this moment in time.

"You like my dear Clemeta, Angus?" Mobius asked in a mocking voice. "I know what you and she were up to. How dare you soil the Royal Escort! You are nothing but a... a commoner! You will pay for your transgressions against the throne, Cage. You will pay dearly."

Ahkemeses stepped away from Mobius' side and took his place at the small table. He quickly checked the instruments and vials, like a surgeon examining his tools. He found them to his liking, and nodded to Mobius that he was ready.

"Angus Cage, as a tribute to our long association as opponents, I am granting you a rare treat," Mobius declared, and Cage could hear the insane laughter in his voice. "I am going to let you witness the preservation of dear Clemeta's beauty for all time. Of course, what we are about to do is usually done after a person has passed away, but what good is tradition if you don't go against it every so often? Yes, you guessed it, Cage. We will watch as Ahkemeses mummifies her—while she is still alive!"

"No, my Pharaoh!" Clemeta pleaded. "I did nothing to betray you! Angus Cage was nothing more than an amusement, an entertainment! Do not do this to me!"

"Dear Clemeta," Mobius said soothingly, "do not lie to me. You are very much like the Clemeta of my youth. She paraded her beauty, teasing me with it. But when I finally approached her, she betrayed my love! She claimed that she could not love the man who murdered the heir to the throne of the Nile, that she would stay true to the memory of her beloved Toth! But she learned her lesson! When I took the throne away from my father, Amat-Ra, I had both he and Clemeta mummified alive — and this Clemeta betrays me in order to carry on the tradition!"

The Pharaoh's rage rocked the chamber, and Cage felt the heat of his madness radiating from him like a sun giving off warmth. Even the Royal Advisers shrank away from Mobius' stinging words. For a moment, it was as if the Pharaoh was reliving some long-forgotten past. Then, as abruptly as the tirade began, it was over.

"Enough of these fond recollections," Mobius said cheerfully, "Ahkemeses, begin the entertainment."

Cage struggled with the two priests, but they held on to him tightly. He could do nothing to save Clemeta, nothing to save himself. All he could do was watch as Ahkemeses worked his arcane arts.

The High Priest placed the pointed end of a syringe into one of the bubbling vials. He pulled back the plunger, and the steaming liquid was drawn into the syringe. He tested it, squirting a stream of the foul brew from the needle-tipped top of the instrument.

"Any last words, dear Clemeta?" Mobius asked.

"I'll always love you," Clemeta said, but the words were not directed at the Pharaoh. She was looking at Angus Cage when she said it, fixing him with her large, dark eyes. "Always," she said again, and Cage heard her voice break as the tears began to come.

"And I will love you," Mobius declared, oblivious to the scene being played out by the two prisoners. "But enough of this sentimental garbage. Get on with it, Ahkemeses!"

The High Priest jabbed the needle into the soft flesh of Clemeta's upper arm, sticking it directly into a vein. She hissed as the plunger descended and steaming liquid flowed into her blood stream.

But she did not scream.

She looked at Ahkemeses with questioning eyes. "Will it hurt?" she asked.

"Most assuredly," he answered.

"Cage, help me!" she cried as the liquid burned its way into her system.

"I'm sorry, Clemeta," he whispered. "I'm sorry... my mistress."

"No!" Clemeta screamed as her body began a series of agonizing convulsions.

"What is it doing to her?" Cage demanded, again struggling against the priests but to no avail.

"It is working its way through her organs, drying them up within her so that we can remove them later," Ahkemeses explained. "The process is actually quite fascinating, as it allows us to perfectly preserve a person for thousands of years. If I add the necessary magicks, we can even turn her into a walking undead. Would you like her that way, Cage?"

Angus refused to answer, instead directing his love and support through his eyes to Clemeta's. But he could see that she was losing the battle against the serum. As he watched, her flesh began to shrivel and dry out, like she was aging a year for every second that passed. Her expression told him of the pain she was enduring, and her eyes begged him to help her, to end the pain.

"Stop this, Mobius!" Cage yelled. "No one deserves to die like this!"

"Does it hurt you to watch this, Angus?" Mobius asked. "Good. That is what I intended. Now stop

complaining and enjoy the show. I know that I am."

Clemeta's flesh pulled taut against her bones, giving her a skeletal appearance. She convulsed once more, then her chest stopped moving, her spasms ceased. Clemeta was dead — preserved as a dried out husk.

"No!" Cage screamed, and then he started to weep.

"Now, now, Angus," Mobius said with mock sincerity, "once Ahkemeses has removed the internal organs, he will apply balms and potions that will restore much of her robust fullness. Then he will wrap her in cloth and place her in the tomb I have dedicated to her. It is a wonderful tribute for one who has betrayed me, much more than she deserves, really."

"And now what? Are you going to put me on the table and mummify me?"

Mobius laughed. "Of course not, Cage. You aren't even Egyptian! No, I have a more fitting end in store for you. But we'll get to that. Right now, I want you to watch as Ahkemeses slices Clemeta open. He is really very good with the scalpel."

Cage saw the lantern light reflect off the sharp metal edge of the blade in the High Priest's hand. When it sliced into her dried flesh, there was no blood. It cut like brittle paper.

And Angus Cage was forced to watch the whole, macabre demonstration.

89

Andrew Jackson Decker walked beside Julie Boot, enjoying the closeness of her. He was falling in love with her, he knew. No, he was already in love with her. That had happened almost from the moment he opened his eyes back in the Twentynine Palms base hospital. She had been the first person he saw after awakening from his ordeal, and in some way she had helped him through it. He still loved his wife, but Vicky was dead and it was time to start a new life. He just wished the circumstances they found themselves in weren't so deadly.

They walked through the mist-shrouded jungles of Takta Ker, homeworld of the invading edeinos. Kurst ranged slightly ahead of them, and he had been unusually quiet since returning from his last scouting mission. Decker felt that something had happened to the hunter, but was reluctant to push him into talking. Kurst would open up when he was ready, wouldn't he?

A roar emerged from the deep fog, startling Decker. He saw Julie jump as well, but Kurst merely tilted his head to one side to listen.

"What is that, Kurst?" Decker asked, reaching for his rifle.

"It is a hunter of some sort," Kurst explained, but his voice was strained, distant. "It is large, and it is announcing its presence."

"What does that mean?" Julie asked.

"It means that it has found its prey and is beginning to move in for the kill. Follow me, and be quiet about it."

Kurst led them a few feet into the mist, then motioned for them to stand still. He took a few more steps, then crouched to wait. Decker heard stampeding feet echo around him, the sound seeming to bounce through the thick air. Then the shape appeared in the mist ahead of Kurst. It was a large shape, quickly growing larger as it moved closer. It emerged from the mist with a frightened caw, sounding like some impossibly large bird shrieking in the night. But it was no bird.

The creature was a huge lizard, built low to the ground and incredibly stocky. It was as tall as a horse, but wider and longer, and its tail dragged behind it, cutting a path in the soil. It was obviously fleeing some other creature — the one who roared? — for it did not seem to notice Kurst crouching low in front of it.

"Kurst!" Julie screamed. "Get out of the way!"

The hunter ignored her, waiting in position as the beast stamped closer. Then he sprang, uncoiling like a loaded spring directly at the beast. Decker was reminded of a rodeo bronco buster, for that was what it looked like Kurst was doing. He leaped onto the lizard's thick neck, then rolled into a sitting position on its back. It bucked and shook itself, trying to dislodge its unwanted passenger, but Kurst held on. The beast ran into the mist, disappearing from sight, only to emerge a moment later, Kurst still riding it like it was a horse.

Finally, after a few circuits through the mist, the lizard seemed to resign itself to its fate and slowed to a trot. Another roar shattered the stillness, however, and the lizard let loose another birdlike shriek. Decker only caught a glimpse of another shape in the mist. It was terribly huge, standing as tall as three men. The ground quaked as it passed by, and its roar hurt his ears. Then it was gone, swallowed by the fog as though it had never existed.

"Hurry," Kurst called, "climb atop so that we can get moving."

"What is that thing?" Julie asked as Decker helped her up.

"It is a tra," Kurst explained. "The edeinos use them as mounts or as food, depending on the greater need. This one escaped the jaws of the predator, but will serve as our transportation to the next bridge."

Decker climbed up behind Julie, settling himself atop the lizard's broad, slightly curved back. He was surprised at how smooth its skin was, not slimy or scaly the way

he expected. And it seemed docile enough, now that Kurst had broken it.

"We have reached an agreement, this tra and I," Kurst said. "It will take us as far as we wish to go as long as that is away from the predator."

"That sounds like a fine deal to me," Decker agreed.

Kurst nodded, then he dug his boots into the lizard's sides, directing it like it was a horse. It trundled into the mist, going along the path that Kurst pointed it toward.

90

"Again," Tolwyn demanded, slamming her fist into the back of the padded seat in front of her.

They were aboard the PBY seaplane, flying out of the Nile Empire north toward England. Raven Wing and her associates gladly gave them the aircraft, thanking them for the assistance they provided against the Nile soldiers. Tom had complained that the craft was primitive compared to what he was used to flying, but he said he could handle it. Now he and Father Bryce were in the cockpit, Mara was sitting in the rear working on her mechanical devices, and Tolwyn was sitting with the dwarves, discussing matters concerning Aysle. Djil sat quietly nearby, listening but not intruding on their conversation.

"But Lady Tancred," Gutterby moaned, "I've told you all that I know."

"Again!" Tolwyn ordered.

"Very well," Gutterby said, launching into his tale for the third time since leaving the Nile airfield. "I remember how everything got deathly quiet after the Carredon finished off the Knight Protectors. I stood shoulder to shoulder with the rest of the Vareth clan, ready to die if need be when the dragon turned our way. But something

else happened first. The balcony doors of Castle Ardinay flew open, and standing in the darkened frame was the Lady of Light herself. She raised her hands to the sky and yelled out one word. It cheered us, bolstered our spirits. She said, 'victory,' and she showed us the body of the evil Uthorion as proof of her triumph. Then she used her strength to drive off the Carredon and the other dark creatures, forcing them back across the bridge of twisted souls. We had won the day, but we had lost the greatest sons and daughters of the Houses."