Allan Cole: The Gods Awaken

But as he slew them they all begged him in voices he could not resist: "Safar, Safar, Safar. Please, Safar."

"Enough!" he shouted. "Enough!"

But it was too late because he and Iraj and Palimak had killed them all.

He shuddered, thinking he was going to become ill-except it was a spiritual, not physical, ailment. And through his sorcerous eye he saw a thousand souls float toward the volcano.

The black clouds grew thicker and seemed to form lips. And then those lips inhaled and he was knocked to the ground by the resulting tornado.

The twister ripped across the island, sucking up the souls of the dead.

On his knees, Safar looked up and saw hundreds upon hundreds of bright souls being carried into the gaping cone of the volcano.

And they were all crying, "Safar, Safar, Safar! Please, please, please, Safar!"

Finally, everyone was dead-the beach littered with corpses. And Safar saw Iraj and Palimak advancing toward King Rhodes.

Queen Yorlain stood in front of him, her face lit up as if she were finding heavenly glory instead of impending death.

She cried, "Safar!"

And Rhodes shouted, "This is the end of it all!"

Then he cut her in two and she fell to the ground, sighing and crying, "Safar, Safar, Safar!"

And her soul was swept away with the others.

The potter's son felt so small and insignificant at being the cause of all these people's deaths. His own soul withered as if it had been dashed by a freezing wave from the cold seas of the far, far north.

Then Rhodes bellowed defiance.

And he stood up, straight and tall and bearded and barbarian-strong. He waved his sword, shouting,

"Come to me, little ones! Come to me!"

Safar ran forward, as did Palimak, but Iraj was many steps ahead of them.

But just before Protarus reached his enemy, lightning stabbed from the sky and the earth rumbled and shook under them.

And Rhodes started to transform, growing larger and larger, until he was the size of giant-three times the height of a man.

Safar gaped, but not at Rhodesa€™ transformation. Because as he grew all his features became a stormy landscape of constantly changing images.

First it became the beautiful, evil face of his mother-Queen Clayre.

Then this changed-bursting apart in a bloody welter-to transform into the grinning demon features of Lord Fari.

And that face twisted and broke and bled to make the royal features of Prince Luka, the demon prince.

Then a shatter of light momentarily obscured the monstrous figure.

And finally, standing before them, waving a mighty sword, was Kalasariz!

Sudden realization of what was happening dawned and Safar shouted a warning to Iraj, who was almost on the giant.

But it was too late.

When Iraj saw the enormous figure of Kalasariz towering over him, he knew he had been well and truly trapped.

He struck out futilely with his blade as Kalasariza€™ gigantic hand reached down to pluck him from the ground.

The spymaster held him at eye level, grinning terribly with that thin, cold smile.

"Welcome back, Majesty," Kalasariz mocked. "Your brothers have sorely missed you."

In the spymaster's eyes Iraj could see the reflections of the faces of Luka and Fari. Flames leaped all around them as they twisted in agony.

"We made a pact once, Majesty," Kalasariz continued. "Do you recall it?"

Iraj remembered it very well-it was the Spell of Four, which had once bound him to these creatures in a foul bargain. He'd escaped it for a time, but now his grievous error of the past had returned to haunt him.

He wanted to cry out to Safar to save him, but he knew there was nothing his friend could do.

"I feel compelled to tell you, Majesty," Kalasariz mocked, "that things have changed since we were last together. Then you were the king and we were your slaves. But now it is I, Kalasariz, who shall rule."

Iraj forced laughter. "Don't be a fool, Kalasariz," he said. "You aren't fit to be king. You don't have the guts, much less the will."

The spymaster's thin smile spread wider. "We shall see, Majesty," he said. "We shall see. With the Goddess Lottyr supporting me, however, I doubt I'll have much difficulty adapting to my new role."

And with that he drew Iraj toward his mouth, meaning to bite him in two. At the same time, his eyes glowed with magical power as he exerted all his strength to bring Iraj once again under the thrall of the Spell of Four.

Iraj tried to struggle and break free, but the spell slowly spread its force through his body, sucking away his will to resist.

Then he heard Safar whispering to him. Not from without, but from deep within. As if he were once again coiled in Iraj's breast.

And Safar said, I'm here, my friend! Together, we can fight him!

A fierce surge of energy burst through Iraj's veins and just as Kalasariz's maw spread wide to kill him, Protarus thrust his sword inward and then up with all his strength.

The blade speared through the roof of the spymaster's mouth and then plunged into his brain.

Kalasariz bellowed in agony, ripping Iraj away with his giant's hand and dashing him to the ground.

A red curtain of pain swept over Iraj. More pain than he had ever felt in his life.

Then the pain vanished and Iraj found himself sitting in the cave of Alisarrian The Conqueror. He was with Safar and they were boys again, swearing never-ending friendship and taking the blood oath.

"Someday I will be king of kings," he told Safar, "and you will be the greatest wizard in history. We'll make a better world before we're done, Safar. A better world for all."

Safar smiled agreement and started to answer. But suddenly he seemed quite distant and he started to fade away. He spoke, but Iraj couldn't hear what he was saying and he became quite frightened.

"Speak louder, brother!" Iraj shouted. "I can't hear you!"

Then once again, Safar spoke from within him. And he said, quite clearly, Farewell, brother mine. Agreat dream awaits us. And the sooner we get started, the sooner that dream will begin.

The words made Iraj feel quite peaceful. And he was content.

"Farewell, brother," he replied. "Farewell, my friend. Until we meet again."

And then the cave vanished and Iraj dreamed of horses-a great wild herd flying across the plains.

He sailed with them, moving at breathtaking speed, the air full of fresh spring currents, the horizon a joyous creation of blue skies meeting lush green earth.

On and on he sailed. Skimming just above the fabulous herd.

Flying toward horizons that would never end.

"It's not over yet, father, is it?" Palimak said.And Safar looked up from his friend's crushed and lifeless body to meet his son's eyes.

Palimak's demon face didn't seem strange to Safar. It was as if that face had always been there, waiting to get out. And now that Palimak had transformed into his true self, Safar only loved him the more.

"You're right, son," he replied. "It isn't."

Then they both heard two horses whinny in the distance. Their eyes rose to see Khysmet standing on a hill. Beside him was the black mare. Her saddle was empty and there was no sign of the Spirit Rider.

"Let's go, son," Safar said, suddenly realizing what they had to do next.

He whistled and the two magnificent animals raced down the hillside. A moment later they were both mounted-Safar on Khysmet, Palimak on the mare-and riding up the side of the volcano.

Soon they came to the ridge overlooking the Valley of the Two Kings. But it was the valley of the ancients, not the place they'd left a few hours before. And instead of being ravaged by storm, it had been destroyed by a great army. Farmhouses were still ablaze. The lake was filled with the charred corpses of men and animals.