Allan Cole - The Gods Awaken

"I don't have anything with pepper in it," Safar said. He glanced around the jungle. "Maybe we can find something here…"

"It's not necessary," Jooli broke in. She grinned. "When I was a girl and made up my first witch's kit I made sure to include powdered betel pepper in it." She grinned. "It was the best way I knew to keep my grandmother at bay."

Palimak laughed. "That's a great trick," he exclaimed. "If you can't beat them, sneeze them to death!"

Jooli fished out her kit and found a packet of betel powder-it was orange with streaks of yellow. She handed it to Palimak.

"Add this to your next batch of blasting elixir and see what happens," she said.

Still laughing, Palimak did as she suggested, mixing the betel powder into the foul mixture in his portable wizard's bowl. Then he poured it into the small clay container that Safar gave him, jammed in the cork and handed it over to Jooli.

She hesitated. "It's your trick, Aunt Jooli," he said. "You deserve the honors."

Laughing with him, Jooli accepted the elixir. She cleared everyone from her path and held the jar high.

"Take this, grandmother!" she shouted.

And she hurled the jar. This time, the sheet of flame was even higher and hotter than before. A strange giddy sensation overcame Jooli. She had the sudden flash-vision of her grandmother sneezing and was struck with a fit of girlish giggles.

Laughing like a fool, but not caring, she shouted, "Let's go!"

And she charged through the wide opening created by the explosion. The others followed, dragging Felino's litter behind them and laughing with her. Only Safar and Palimak knew what was so funny, but everyone was so relieved they'd finally broken out of that dank jungle that they laughed anyway.

Wheezing and gasping as they trundled out on the beach.

But then they heard the thunder of battle and the laughter died.

And they all looked out to sea, gasping in shock at the sudden realization.

The Nepenthe was on fire. Its deck swarming with soldiers in enemy uniforms, trying to put out the flames.

Surrounding the vessel were three other ships, all engaged in battle. But it wasn't the Nepenthe they were fighting. Whatever had happened there was long over. One only had to witness the prisoners in Kyranian uniforms crowded into the bow and under enemy guard to realize that.

This battle was going on elsewhere. Huge green flaming arrows-each easily twice the size of man-were being fired into the skies. Battery, after battery of them, shooting off in steady time.

And their target was the airship, hovering over the Nepenthe and fighting a losing battle. One of the arrows had struck the bow and they could see some of Biner's crew desperately trying to put out the blaze.

King Felino finally worked his gag free. And now it was his turn to laugh.

"You've lost, Safar Timura," he gloated. "Surrender while you can!"

Biner was doing his damnedest to outmaneuver the enemy fleet, and to extinguish the fire raging in the bow of the airship. If it spread to the engines the whole airship would explode.

The ringmaster called on his deepest reserves of calm. Never mind that the show was a disaster, he and his people would continue to perform until the last fat clown provoked laughter and the curtain closed.

His orders were issued in his grand ringmaster's voice. A presentation of things to come for the audience, filled with all sorts of subtext for the performers.

"Turn left," he boomed to the wheelman. Unhurried, but crackling with authority.

"Drop the port ballast," he roared to the port crew, calmly demanding their urgent but measured action so the airship could rise above the next arrow shot.

"Put some soap into that water, sir!" he bellowed to the captain of the fire-fighting team.

And the fire captain quickly, but without panic, added soap to the water barrels that fueled the hoses his men were playing over the leaping green flames. It seemed a long time, but soon thick suds shot out over the fire, quenching it.

Biner heard Khysmet trumpet from the aft section of the ship. The great stallion was housed in a temporary stable, waiting for his master's return. The excitement of the battle, plus his concern for Safar's absence, had worked the horse up into a fury and he was kicking at the wooden partition that held him.

To his relief, he saw Arlain running to the stable to calm the animal. Khysmet was much enamored of the dragon woman and would be sure to respond to her gentle ministrations.

He turned back to the task at hand. "Bombardiers, are you ready?" he shouted to his attack crew.

The signal came back that the sacks of magical explosives were set in their bays. The formula for the explosives had been worked out by Safar during their final flight from Esmir. Palimak had later added a trick or two of his own, guaranteed to devastate the most hardened enemy.

These explosives had been the key to the Kyranian occupation of their little piece of Syrapis. During Safar's long exile in the otherworld of Hadinland, it had been up to Palimak to lead the way against all those hostile forces.

Biner had been shocked when he'd realized that hatred seemed to be the natural state of things in Syrapis. This was an emotional environment he'd never understood. In his mind and experience, people-and even demons-were all the same. An audience was merely an audience. Most were sweet, but some were sour. And turning sour to sweet was his life's work.

He was a gentle giant in a dwarf's body. Short of stature, massive in girth and especially in heart, he believed down to his very bones there was no audience he'd ever met whose spirit couldn't be transformed-if only for two hours-into goodness.

And so the vicious, hateful attitude of the natives of Syrapis completely mystified him. Although he'd performed before thousands, possibly tens of thousands of people in his career, the Syrapians were like no others he'd ever met.

Arlain and the other circus performers felt the same and so although they were fighting for their own survival in Syrapis-as well as for that of the Kyranians-they despised this new, anti-human role they were forced to play.

Now they were being called upon to play that role once again. The Nepenthe had been overwhelmed by an enemy force. Biner had immediately recognized the uniforms of the attacking soldiers as being those of Hanadu, the kingdom ruled by Rhodes.

Biner could only guess why Rhodes had followed the Timuras to this far-off place. He supposed the king's purpose was to block Safar's mission to Hadinland. Why Rhodes should want to do this, however, was a complete puzzlement.

The only thing Biner knew for certain was that he had to stop Rhodes. At the moment the only way he could see to accomplish this was to bombard the longboats carrying the enemy troops. To bombard the Nepenthe itself would be useless, and would endanger the lives of the Kyranians still on board.

However, the huge fire arrows being launched by the three enemy ships were doing a damned good job of keeping him from that objective.

His maneuvers were designed to carry him above their reach, yet still be close enough to assume some accuracy. To maintain his calm, he imagined the action as raising a diving platform to its maximum height, while still giving the acrobat a good chance of hitting his watery target.

He was studying a group of longboats clustered near the Nepenthe as a possible target when he heard Khysmet whinny his shrill cry. A moment later Arlain came rushing up.

"Over there, Biner!" she cried, gesturing wildly toward the shore. "It'th a thignal from Thafar!"

Biner swiveled his glass in the direction she was pointing. And there, rising from the beach, he saw a green flare. Fearing some new trick to draw his attention away from the battle, he backtracked the flare's path until he came to a small group of people standing near the water's edge.