Allan Cole: The Gods Awaken

Leiria struggled for self control. She felt like an unwanted witness to an intimate family fight-which this definitely was-and wanted no part of it. She wished mightily that Coralean were here. The wise old caravan master would've shut these people up with a few well-chosen phrases.

Palimak, although old in mind, was too young and out of his element for this sort of thing. Hells, Leiria knew she wasn't up to it and she was not only pushing the three-decade mark, but had been lover to a great king and in love with a mighty wizard. Plus a soldier commander in countless wars.

Rhodes brushed his hands together-a rare washing, if only by air. " I'm done with you, daughter," he said. "I've finally found you a duty you can't shirk. Your kingdom requires this sacrifice. You cannot refuse it!"

Jooli drew herself up and Leiria could tell by the narrowing of her eyes that she was about to skin her father alive verbally. It was time to stop this nonsense. There was much more important business ahead than their damned family squabble!

Leiria drew her sword-the distinctive rasp of metal riveting everyone's attention. Her steel-soled boots rang as she stomped forward, blade extended, point aimed directly at Jooli.

"What's this!" Rhodes shouted, taking a step forward. But at the same moment he looked upward at the hovering airship and all those drawn bows and hesitated.

Jooli fixed Leiria with a fierce glare. "Am I to be assassinated before my own father?" she growled.

Brave as her words were, she still shrank visibly before Leiria's determined approach.

Leiria swung the blade back as if to strike, then smoothly slid it forward, turning it from razor edge to flat passiveness. She stopped the sword just short of Jooli's heart.

"Do you, Queen Jooli," she said with all the solemness she could muster, "swear to give us your royal oath that you will give yourself over to captivity? And that you will not attempt to escape, or conspire to escape, while you are in our custody?"

"This is ridiculous," Jooli protested.

"Swear it, daughter!" Rhodes thundered.

Queen Jooli made a dramatic sigh. "Oh, very well," she said. She placed her hand on the flat of the sword. "I so swear," she said. She glowered at Leiria. "There, you have my parole. Are you satisfied?"

For just a moment, Leiria imagined she saw a glint of amusement in Jooli's eyes. And she wondered, was this all an act? If so, for what purpose?

Palimak finally found his voice. "We'd better get you on board, your highness," he said to Jooli. "I have other business with your father."

He signaled to Biner and immediately a large basket, dangling from a strong cable, began its descent from the airship.

"But what about my belongings?" Jooli said. "My clothing and personal things aren't packed."

"We'll provide you with clothing," Palimak said.

"But my crossbow and my sword," Jooli protested. "I can't leave them behind."

For some reason Palimak wasn't surprised that Queen Jooli so valued her weapons. He nearly relented, then remembered Gundaree's warning. If Jooli were a witch, the last thing Palimak wanted was a chance for the queen to slip sorcerous supplies into her baggage.

"You won't need them," he said.

Before Jooli could protest some more, the basket-tended by a burly crewman-was resting on the platform.

"Get in, your highness," Leiria said with no attempt at ceremony.

Jooli sniffed, then walked toward the basket. But before she climbed in, she turned to King Rhodes.

"You're going to be very sorry for this, father," she said.

And then, assisted by the crewman, she climbed into the basket, which was raised swiftly away. There were sounds of amazement from the crowd as they saw the king's daughter disappear into the hovering airship.

In control again, Palimak swung about to address Rhodes. He slipped another bag of gold from his tunic, holding it out so the king could see.

"Before we leave," he said, "there's one other thing I want to do. And I willing to pay for it handsomely."

Rhodesa€™ eyes glittered greedily at the proffered sack of coins. "Ask away," he said. "I'm sure we can come to s ome agreement."

The black mare pranced maddeningly just out of reach as Khysmet thundered after her across the darkening plain, heart and loins charged with must.

Above, gray-knuckled clouds gathered in immense lightning-charged fists. A fierce wind drove him on-so heat-charged that long blue sparks flew off his snowy back. Beneath his hooves the cloud shadows rolled past like fast-moving waves.

Behind him poured a great herd of wondrous horses, including the fifty mares who were his wives. On this magic plain he was the king of the stallions and none dared stand in his way. He'd killed attacking lions with his mighty hooves, scattered packs of jackals intent on making a meal of his colts, humbled stallion rivals for his four-legged harem.

Nothing could be denied him on this marvelous plain that spread a thousand miles between two great mountain ranges. Nothing, that is, except for the fabulous black mare who refused to acknowledge his claim on her.

The mare had appeared only a few grazing periods before:

She came like a dream-just at twilight when the insects were rising in a thick buzzing mist off the sweet grasses. Birds and bats wheeled through those clouds crying joyously as they feasted on the fat insect bodies.

Khysmet was about to shrill the signal for the herd to move to the sleeping area he'd scouted earlier in the day: a little valley-cupped between four low-slung hills-that he could easily defend against night stalkers.

But then a cloud radiant with colorful insect wings parted and the mare pranced through.

As soon as she saw him she stopped.

Steam blew through her tender nostrils as she whinnied a greeting. Then she wheeled around and looked at him enticingly over her graceful shoulders.

Khysmet neighed in astonishment, rooted for a moment by the audacity of the strange mare. Then he dimly recalled her. They'd met in the Other World, where Khysmet had once lived with his master.

Except then the mare had been ridden by a tall woman as beautiful in human terms as was the mare to Khysmet's equine senses. He'd sensed her human beauty because upon spying the woman his master had suddenly tensed, radiating a rich musk of desire. A desire just as fierce as the heat lancing Khysmet's loins as he examined the mare.

Master and horse had pursued the mare and her rider, but after a long, teasing chase, they'd vanished.

Much later they'd appeared again, this time to lead Khysmet and his master through a winter storm iced with sorcery and danger. The wild ride had ended with the mare and her mistress vanishing as mysteriously as before.

And now, here the mare was once more-sans rider.

Khysmet whinnied a command for her to hold, then trotted forward to claim her.

But the mare shrilled amusement and shot away, dashing across the plain into the gathering night.

Khysmet pursued her for a while, but was forced to turn back to care for his herd. He spent a long night pacing the ground, trembling with the remembered scent of her.

At dawn, the mare returned to entice him once more, rearing up to whinny her seductive challenge, then dancing off with Khysmet in pursuit. No matter how hard he ran she always managed to stay comfortably ahead, until he was forced to give up the chase and turn back.

The next time she came, however, he was prepared. His herd leaders were ready for his signal and when he charged after the mare, they gathered up his harem and followed.

The chase went on all that day into the late afternoon.

Now, with the shadows of night spilling across the wrinkled stone brows of the far range, Khysmet had the sudden thrilling knowledge that the mare was tiring.