Robert Hughes - The Power and the Prophet

Rosha was within three steps of the tower’s back window, but he still didn’t move toward it. He’d seen that ancient object that had lured him to the castle sitting on a small table across the circular room. He’d come this far—he hated to leave without it. The slender, gracefully carved pyramid of diamond glowed with a ghostly blue radiance, calling to him. Despite the flaming missiles that whirled around his head, he lunged across the room and grabbed it. The table collapsed beneath him, and an explosion above his head seared his neck.

“Will you get out?” Pelmen bellowed, hurdling Rosha and blocking the next blaze away. This time the warrior obeyed. Clutching the crystal to his chest he scrambled to the window, then flung the heavy drapes aside and jumped up onto the sill. There he had to pause. While he could see the blue reservoir stretching out beneath him, he saw also the outer wall of the castle, which he would have to clear. It was a very long drop…

Another explosion rocked the room behind him, and he heard the door splinter. He needed no more convincing. He hugged the precious pyramid and jumped.

Pelmen backed toward the window, deflecting fireballs and trying to think. Even if Rosha survived the dive, he would need magical assistance to escape the slavers. He had to help. The trouble was, these fierce exchanges had depleted his energies, while Flayh’s power seemed only to grow. He had to get away.

Admon Faye burst into the room roaring a curse as Pelmen jumped up onto the windowsill. The slaver launched a sword at his head and he was forced to dodge it before he could change forms. At the same moment, one of Flayh’s fireballs struck him in the chest, blowing him out the window. He lost consciousness with the impact, as his robes ignited. He fell backward like a flaming star and was gone.

Flayh gave an exultant shout, and raced to the window to watch Pelmen’s fall. The High Fortress, however, kept up its horrendous howling. “Silence!” Flayh commanded, but the High Fortress wouldn’t be silent. “What’s the matter with you!”

—Don’t you know? the fortress wailed in unspeakable agony. There’s still another shaper within these walls!

Throughout the tugoliths’ long trek through the riverlands of Lamath, Pezi had looked behind him more than he’d looked ahead. It was never a pretty sight. Uprooted trees, demolished hedgerows, trampled vegetable gardens—oh, what a hideous picture that was!—and of course, the occasional demolished farmhouse. Their path resembled the wake of a particularly vindictive tornado. And he’d thought he could sneak these beasts out of the country! Why, even if he could train them to walk on their tiptoes, the sound of their passing would still wake the dead! The ground shook beneath their feet. His attempt to take the inconspicuous back roads had come to naught—all he’d managed to do was to clear a new southern highway. Surely the authorities would be catching up with them soon. What was the penalty for tugolith-napping? Considering Thuganlitha’s rampages, could he be charged with contributing to the delinquency of a minor?

That’s how he thought of them—as children. Huge, undisciplined children. He couldn’t imagine how he could have managed this far without the help of Chimolitha. She was the only force that held Thug in check. Pezi called her a she. He didn’t know why, it just seemed natural. He’d never asked the beast’s sex, of course. They were children, after all, and such a topic would be blushingly inappropriate. But she acted like a girl, somehow—helpful, obedient, and bright.

And Thug acted like a rampaging little boy. Pezi had told himself that if they could just make it to the Tellera Desert everything would improve. Thug couldn’t destroy anything there, for there was nothing to destroy. Or so Pezi had figured.

They’d reached the desert that morning. Already Pezi wished they were back in the comparative safety of the rivers. There was truly nothing in this desert—most especially, no food. For a man who’d made the kitchens of the world his only temples, that was more than a little disconcerting. But Pezi could handle his persona] privation. He was far more worried about the tugs. A hungry tugolith was a grouchy tugolith, and a grouchy rugolith could—well, Pezi didn’t even want to think about it.

“I’m so hungry I could eat a human,” Thuganlitha said menacingly. It wasn’t the first time he’d said that.

He’d said it this morning, and Pezi had been so shocked he’d rolled off Chim’s back and bounced onto the roadway like a rubber ball. Chimolitha had wondered aloud why he’d done that, and it was only then that Pezi realized Thuganlitha didn’t understand what the words meant at all. It was just a saying some misguided Lamathian had taught him because it sounded cute. “Cute!” Pezi grunted to himself. How could anything about such a horrendously huge animal be thought cute! “I’m so hungry I could—”

“You don’t know what that means,” Chimolitha interrupted calmly.

“I do so!” Thuganlitha snarled. “What, then?” Chim challenged.

Thuganlitha stamped the ground, leaving a huge pothole, and snorted. “It means I’m hungry!”

“But what’s a human?” Chimolitha demanded. “Yeah,” Riganlitha chimed in haughtily. “What’s a human?”

Thug wheeled with a snort of rage and drove his horn deep into Riganlitha’s hindquarters. The wounded animal shrieked and fled, screaming for mercy. Pezi hardly blinked—this happened at least a dozen times a day. As usual, Riganlitha retired to the rear of the cavalcade and found a sympathetic forequarter to weep on. Another tug licked his pierced hide solicitously. They could all empathize, for all bore similar scars of Thug’s quick temper. All, that is, except Chimolitha. “You don’t know,” she said passively.

“Well, you don’t either!” Thug snarled, dancing beside her in frustration.

“I can ask.” She shrugged. Pezi always hated it when she shrugged. It meant he got bounced around more than usual. “Who?” Thug demanded.

“The man.” Chim shrugged again. That began a chorus of interested responses from the tugs that tagged behind.

“What man?”

“Dolna is our man.”

“Is Dolna here?”

“Where’s Dolna?”

“He’s sick.”

“Dolna, I’m hungry!”

Don’t talk!” Thug roared.

“Where’s Dolna?”

“Don’t talk!” Thug screamed again, and he whirled his massive bulk around to face the others, the tip of his enormous horn glinting wickedly with Riganlitha’s fresh, wet blood. The herd got quiet.

“This man,” Chimolitha said, rolling her eyes upward to indicate the rather ample figure she bore on her back.

“You mean the fat man?” Thug asked.

“Man?” Chimolitha called. “What’s a human?”

Pezi faced a dilemma. Chimolitha was simpleminded, but she wasn’t stupid. Twice already she’d caught him trying to mislead her with a lie, and each time she’d rolled those saucer-sized eyes up to look at him and said, “That isn’t nice.” He’d suffered the shakes for hours afterward. He didn’t want to raise her ire again, so he couldn’t tell her a complete fiction. On the other hand, to tell the truth could be disastrous!

He’d already caught Thug looking at him hungrily and licking his enormous chops.

“That’s… a very… interesting question,” Pezi began cautiously. He still didn’t quite know what to say.

“Humans are—ah—a certain type of person.”

“Oh.” Chimolitha nodded. Then her face clouded. “What’s person?”

“Person? A person? Why, persons are people. You know, like me.”

“Oh.” Chim nodded. Once again she looked puzzled. “You are a person?”

“Yes,” Pezi nodded, plunging unaware into the very danger zone he’d sought to avoid.