Allan Cole - Wolves of the Gods

"Behold!" Safar shouted again and there was a loud pop! as the little tornado suddenly disappeared. The air where it had been shattered like glass, leaving a great dark hole gaping into nothingness.

There were gasps and fearful cries all around as everyone realized there was more than a blank void beyond the jagged edges of the hole.

"Look, my friends," Safar intoned. "Look hard and deep. See the world as it will be. With or without Iraj Protarus."

They looked and it was a terrible sight. A familiar range of mountains beckoned from the other side. It was the Bride and her Maids, but they had been shorn of all their glory and stood there black and wind-torn under a lunatic sky. There was not a patch of snow, tree, or blade of grass upon the range.

The scene shifted and there were fearful shouts as the crowd suddenly found itself looking down into the barren valley that had once been Kyrania. There were no fields or homes, or even the holy lake of Felakia.

Then the ground seemed to move and people shouted in horror as they realized that millions upon millions of scaly insects made up the floor of their beloved valley. They swarmed over and under each other, feeding on rock and dust.

Just as everyone thought they could stand this nightmare no more Safar clapped and the scene vanished, the hole was healed and everything was the same as before.

"That is what we must prevent from happening," Safar said. "Only we can do it. Only the people of Kyrania have the will and the means. But to accomplish it, you must come away with me. You must come out of the clouds and walk the land and swim its rivers and climb its hills. We must walk until the land ends and there is only sea. And then we must find boats and cross that sea until we come to a new land, a place of safety and peace."

He jabbed at the air with his dagger point and again it shattered. But this time, instead of darkness, a warm yellow light poured out. Everyone looked and this time the gasps and shouts were of marvel, instead of fear.

A glorious island, looking like a wondrous emerald lizard, rose out of a shimmering blue sea. It had thick forests and high mountains on its back, with soft white clouds caught in the peaks. Silver streams coursed down the mountain slopes, leaping over cliffs and boulders and sending up fantastic rainbows from their spume.

"Friends and family," Safar said, "I give you Syrapis! The island of dreams!"

He clapped again and the vision dissolved. Safar turned back to the crowd. He took note of the faces.

Some people's eyes were alight with the wonder they had beheld. These mostly belonged to the young.

Others appeared withdrawn, suspicious. These mostly belonged to the old. Among the vast majority, however, was a mixture of the two, plus confusion.

Palimak piped up. "Was that our new home, father? Is that where we're going to live?"

Safar answered as if he and the child were alone, instead of surrounded by a thousand people. "If it pleases our friends to do so," he said.

"Is Syrapis very far?" the boy asked.

"Yes, son," he said, "it's very far. Farther than anyone has ever been before."

"If it's so far," he asked, "how will we ever find our way?"

Safar pulled the tube of maps from his belt. "Lord Coralean gave me these," he said. A quick side glance showed that Coralean's name was having a great affect on the Kyranians. All of it positive.

"These are secret maps that only caravan masters possess," Safar said. "They show every road and path in all of Esmir."

He raised his head slightly, making sure all heard. "You know how great a friend Lord Coralean is to all of us. He gave us these secret maps to save us from Iraj Protarus."

"Secrets!" the boy exclaimed, eyes glowing yellow in delight. "Does that mean if we go down those secret roads and paths no one will be able to find us? Even that … that…" Palimak automatically scanned the crowd for his grandmother's face. The words he had in mind would surely earn him a scolding. "That …

wolf thing, or man thing, or whatever he is. He wouldn't be able to find us, would he?"

"It would be a pretty hard thing for him to do," Safar said. "And if he found us, we could always lose him again."

"Then what are we waiting for, father?" Palimak asked.

He turned to the crowd, putting his hands on his hips, looking like a circus midget in his little uniform.

"Who wants to go to Syrapis with us?" he shouted. "You get secret maps and a chance to save the world, and … and…" He spread his hands wide as if encompassing a huge world of wonders …

"Everything!"

Everyone was laughing now, enjoying the show. In their laughter, Safar knew he'd found acceptance.

Palimak, however, wasn't satisfied. He stamped his little foot.

"You're not answering!" he shouted. "Who wants to go?

"Who wants to go to Syrapis?"

The man's face was a bloody mask. "Please, master, please," he moaned, "we din't know no better, honest to th' gods we din't!"

Luka flicked a talon, making a greater mess of the man's face. "What a slimy little human you are," he said. "Everyone knows that Safar Timura is a desperate criminal, so why bother lying?" He flicked again and the man's shrieks echoed across the gloom that was the royal tent. "Even if I believed you, it wouldn't save your life. Your continued existence isn't at stake here, you filthy thing. Only how much pain you can bear before I send you on your miserable way."

Iraj shifted in his throne. Although Luka prided himself on his interrogation techniques, with lots of blood and moaning for entertainment, the king was clearly bored. As a shape changer some concentration was required to retain one form or another-whether human, or giant wolf. Iraj's concentration was visibly shattered by the proceedings; his body parts kept shifting back and forth from animal to human. Hand became claw, face grew a snarling muzzle, then crunched back again.

"Please, master!" the victim begged.

Iraj made a wolf snout. "Please, master, please!" he mocked, his voice a perfect imitation of the tortured villager's. His human face returned. "What a sniveling lot of fools I have for subjects. Always begging, never giving."

He turned to Fari, who sat to his left in a lower and smaller throne. "Tell my scribes," he said, "that in my next decree the phrase 'Merciful Master' is to be removed from my signature titles. King of Kings, Most Exalted Emperor of Esmir, Lion of the Plains, etc., etc., and all the others should be quite sufficient."

"Noted, Your Highness," the old demon wizard said. "All will be done as you say. And in that spirit, I propose that we examine your other titles more closely as well. For phrases like 'Peaceful Protector,' and

'His Benevolence,' which would also be suspect."

Iraj agreed. "Peace, mercy, and benevolence are out," he said. "My subjects need to have a clear idea of who I am. That's the key to good leadership. And I blame you and Luka and Kalasariz for not reminding me of this."

Fari bowed, beating his breast to show his own quick acceptance of guilt. "It's as you say, Majesty," he said. "There's been too much talk of peace and mercy of late and we ought to end it."

Iraj was calmed and became fully human in appearance. "Exactly, Fari, exactly!" he said. "And by the gods it's undermining my kingdom and I won't put up with it any longer."

He gestured, his hand transforming into a claw to indicate the grisly scene before him. Besides the man Luka was tormenting, there were five others chained to stakes. All of the townspeople were horribly maimed, with only their soft moans and the quivering of their tortured flesh to show they were still alive.