Allan Cole - Wolves of the Gods

Safar smiled, pretending it was resounding chorus of majority approval. He took Palimak in his arms.

"I'm overjoyed by your support, my friends," he said. "Palimak and I thank you for your loyalty and love."

Saying this made it so in many hearts and this time the cheers were louder as he passed the boy back to Leiria. When he turned back to speak the crowd grew quiet in anticipation.

"Unfortunately, the issues aren't so simple. The fact is, Iraj Protarus will not be satisfied until every Kyranian, from our oldest, most respected leaders down to our newborn babes are wiped from the face of Esmir. This is what we face, my friends. Not choices, but certain annihilation. This is how Iraj Protarus plans to repay you for your generosity to him when he was a boy."

Murmurs of fear ran thought the crowd. Even Masura looked grim-faced with sudden worry. Harsh reality was gradually boring through his vanity.

Meanwhile, Palimak was greatly moved by Safar's words. "Let's fight him, father," he cried. His shrill voice carried across the arena as if he were a giant's child. "To the death!" He raised his toy sword in defiance.

Fully half the crowd joined in the cheering that followed. Fired by a child's boldness, they roared for the chance to give battle and somehow bring Protarus down. Masura, however, seemed to have regained his composure and with it much of his former stupidity.

When the crowd sounds faded, Masura shouted, "You have no right to speak, Timura! You and the boy have been banished by order of the Council."

Since the vote hadn't been announced, some people were taken by surprise and started muttering among themselves. Masura and his supporters took advantage of the confusion, shouting, "Don't listen to him!"

and "He's just trying to save his own skin."

Safar cracked another capsule of amplification, then spoke, voice so strong it drowned out his foes.

"People of Kyrania!" he thundered, flinging his arms high. "Heed me!"

Everyone froze. Even Masura was cowed by the thunder of his voice. "Whether I leave or whether I stay, Iraj Protarus will come this night to slay you in your beds! Unless you act with me now, that is your fate. If you doubt me … then witness this!"

He snapped his fingers and there was a crack! like a glacier rock exploding in a campfire. At the same time his other hand shot out, snatching at the air. There were gasps of amazement as he drew first one long yellow bone, then another, from thin air.

Safar made a great show of it, displaying the casting bones for all to see. He fanned them out and a thousand pairs of eyes were compelled to count them, one, two, three, four, five!

Safar chanted, feeling his power growing over them with each word he spoke: Has the day falsed us?

Promising nights

With strong shutting doors?

Did the light halt us?

From seeing skull eyes

Dark and void?

The bones made a ghastly rattle as Safar hurled them onto the platform. Two thousand eyes followed their progress, saw them bounce and scatter. The crowd was deathly silent as Safar peered long and hard at the ivory pattern.

"Will Iraj come?" Palimak asked, posing the question for all.

Safar raised his head. He looked first at the crowd, then Palimak, finally, straight at Masura. The man's eyes were bright with fearful suspense, his defiance smothered in Safar's hypnotic spell.

He stretched the moment to the fullest, then whipped out his silver dagger and jabbed its point at the jumble of bones. "Speak, O great spirits!" he commanded. "What is your answer?"

He waved the dagger and the bones floated off the platform. He motioned again and they reformed themselves, shifting from one pattern to the next, until finally they formed the skeletal head of a giant wolf.

"Speak!" Safar again commanded. "Speak!"

There were wild shrieks of alarm as fire burst from the wolfhead's empty sockets. The big jaws grated open, unleashing a blood-chilling howl! Suddenly, the head flew forward-straight at Masura! Howling and snapping its jaws.

Masura ran away, screaming, "Help me! Help me!" But everyone fled from his path, crying out in fear. At just the right moment Safar jabbed his dagger at the head and an explosion ripped the bones apart and they vanished into nothingness.

"There is your answer, my friends!" Safar shouted. "Iraj will come! The Fates have decreed it!"

Masura realized he was safe and fell to his knees, babbling, "Save us, Lord Timura! Save us!"

First Masura allies joined in, then the rest of the crowd, all shouting, "Save us, Lord Timura! Save us!"

Safar had won. The victory disgusted him.

Another sin to add to his ledger.

It was a warm night, a night that drew roiling mists off the lake. Under the Demon Moon the mists made ominous shadows, deep oranges and reds bleeding through fantastic black figures that spilled over hollow and hill and got caught up in the branches of trees where owls waited to hoot at darkening skies.

In the village all the homes were shuttered and dark. The chimneys were cold, the cobbled streets empty and the only sound was the belly rumble of a llama and the long soft tramp of its feet.

Renor was leading the llama, an old thing who had seen more of life than she liked but pressed on anyway from habit. She was carrying a heavy load of thorny brush that shifted painfully from side to side as she walked. The llama groaned and Renor dodged just in time as she tried her best to step on his foot.

"Don't bother complaining, Granny," Renor said. "I won't feel sorry for you no matter what you do." He shook his head at the swaying burden on her back. "I did my best to tie it down tight. But you blew yourself up like an old horse and now all the knots are loose. It's your fault, not mine."

The llama swung its head to the side, there was a rumble in its guts, and then it coughed up a good spit.

Once again Renor dodged to the side and a stream of smelly stuff splattered against an alley wall.

"Threats won't do you any good either, Granny," Renor said, brushing away the few drops that had spattered onto his cloak. "You'll still have to carry this load all the way to the fort. And if there's time you'll have to go back and fetch another."

The llama grumbled in protest, but Renor was unmoved. "I don't know why Lord Timura wants all this wood," he said, "but if he says to fetch it, and the more the better, then we'd better fetch it!"

They rounded the corner and Renor saw the dark shape of the fort looming out of the gathering gloom.

The llama stopped its complaining and quickened its pace.

"Ho! So you go quickly now, do you?" Renor said. "You think your day's work is over. Lazy old thing."

He looked up at the Demon Moon, growing deeper red as night rushed in. "I sure hope you're right," he grudged. "I don't want to go back out into this again."

He thought of the huge mound of brush and timber already piled in the center of the fort. When he'd delivered his last load Captain Leiria had been directing people to spread the wood out into some kind of design. No one seemed to know its purpose. Only that Lord Timura had ordered it done and so they were doing it. Just like Renor and a score of other village lads were unquestioningly scouring the countryside for wood. Lord Timura had said it was to protect them from Protarus and after seeing the magical wolfhead chase after Masura, nobody was going to argue.

Personally, Renor hadn't needed any convincing. After what had happened to Tio and his adventure by Lord Timura's side in the meadow, he was burning for revenge. He imagined himself advancing on a cowering devil wolf, spear raised to strike.

Just then the llama bawled and Renor almost jumped out of his skin. The animal surged forward, breaking into a fast lope. Renor shouted at it and ran to grab the load, which was tilting dangerously to the side. As he reached for it he heard an ungodsly howl.