Allan Cole - Wolves of the Gods

A moment later they cantered out into soft sunlight. Safar blinked. The woman was gone! His heart wrenched in dismay. Under him he could feel Khysmet's sides heaving and knew the animal was just as deeply affected by the disappearance of the mare.

"We're not in the machine anymore, father," Palimak announced.

"What?" Safar was so dazed he barely heard.

"Gundara and Gundaree say we're out of the machine," Palimak said.

Safar glanced about. Gradually his surroundings sunk in. There was no island. No raging seas. No blinding snowstorm. All had vanished.

Instead, they were riding along a narrow mountain ridge, breathtaking vistas stretching out in every direction. To the south was a snow-dappled range of low mountains, marked by two familiar peaks.

Caluz was beyond those mountains-and not so very distant. Safar could see a yellow tinge lying low on the horizon and knew it was from the poisonous atmosphere of the Black Lands. Further evidence were puffs of smoke from all the active volcanoes. He looked closely at the mountains the Kyranians needed to cross when he went back to fetch them. To his joy he saw the faint scar of a caravan track running between the peaks.

Even brighter news beckoned from the north. Not many miles beyond the ridge they were riding along was a shining sea. He could even make out a few dots of white that were sailing craft skimming across the peaceful waters. There was no sign of the snow storm he'd just experienced. The fields were green and summery. Far off he saw the curving slash of a road running along the shoreline. Beyond that was a dazzling city of the purest white.

Hovering over the city was a vast field of golden clouds-flattened so they looked like fabulous islands in the sky.

Caspan!

The last jumping off point to Syrapis.

Palimak's voice jolted him out his reverie. "There's someone waiting for us, father," he said, pointing to a little deer trail leading off the ridge and down to a little grove of trees. "Down there."

Safar tensed. "Is it dangerous?" he asked.

Palimak hesitated while he conferred in whispers with the Favorites. Then, "They're not sure," he said, scratching his head. "They go back and forth. It's all pretty confusing. The only thing they agree on is that we have to go there-no matter what."

Safar loosened his sword. "Let's assume the worst, son," he said. "Then we won't have any reason to be sorry later."

Palimak nodded, arranging his cloak and belt so he could reach anything that might be needed. Young as he was, the boy was now quite trail wise-speaking only when necessary. He quietly got himself a drink of water and a handful of dried dates to munch on.

Safar was pleased the boy seemed so alert, all signs of exhaustion gone. As for himself-well, he felt as if he'd been through the hells and back. Which, now that he thought of it, he had. Pity he didn't possess the restorative powers of the very young. He was only in his third decade of life. Right now he it seemed like five more had been added to that span by the ordeal.

He glanced up at the sun to mark the time. To his surprise he saw it was barely mid-afternoon. Which meant only a few hours had passed since they'd left Hantilia's palace. If he had been asked, Safar would have sworn at least a week had gone by. This was very powerful magic, indeed.

There was no time to ponder such mysteries. He needed a clear mind for whatever faced them down that trail. Taking a lesson from Palimak, he got himself a drink and something to eat. Except he chose a palmful of jerky and a hefty slug of wine from the flask at his hip. Refreshed, he turned Khysmet down the narrow deer trail.

The path was steep and deeply curved so it was impossible for the riders to see very far ahead. Also, the grove of trees below them was too dense for them to make out what it hid. Skin prickling, eyes shifting back and forth, Safar guided Khysmet down the trail.

There was no warning. They came around a bend, the path dipped, and suddenly they were trotting into the grove. A gentle sun streamed down through the tree, giving the light a holy cast. A musical fountain played in the center of the grove, mist rising from the playing waters to glow in the sunlight. The fountain itself was a scene out of the Book of Felakia-the goddess revealed in all her beauty as she bathed in a stream, dipping up a cup of water to pour over her marble tresses.

Other than the life-sized statue of the goddess there were no structures in the grove, only a few stone benches set about the fountain. It was the sort of place one might expect to find in a temple garden-certainly never in the middle of a forbidding wilderness.

Just then Safar spotted someone waiting for them by the fountain. His heart jumped in amazement.

"It's the Queen, father!" Palimak blurted. "Queen Hantilia!"

The Demon Queen, graceful and royal as ever in her flowing red Asper robes, raised a claw of welcome.

"Greetings, Safar Timura," she said. "I have waited long for this meeting."

Safar goggled at her. What in the hells was she talking about? Where was the Oracle? Most important of all-how did she get here? Meanwhile, the Queen was eyeing him, looking him over as if she'd never seen him before.

"I didn't know you'd be so handsome," she said. "For a human, that is." She turned to Palimak.

"And you, young Palimak Timura," she said in her musical voice, "I mustn't neglect you. You are quite handsome as well. Handsomer than your father, if I may be so bold. It's the demon in you that makes the difference."

Safar slid out of the saddle. "Pardon me for sounding rude, Majesty," he said. "But you're talking nonsense. And before anything else is said, I'd appreciate it greatly if you answered a few questions. To start with, could you please explain how in the hells you got here!"

Hantilia laughed. "Be patient, my lord," she said. "And all will be revealed to the best of my ability."

She waved at a bench across from hers. "Come sit and rest," she said. "And take a little refreshment, please. You must be hungry and tired after your long journey." Another wave and the small table in front of the bench was suddenly filled with plates of delicacies and mugs of drink.

Safar started to object. He was tired of the Queen's constant evasions and pleas for patience. He wanted answers, by the gods! Safar took half step forward, then paused. For the first time he noticed how insubstantial Hantilia seemed to be. In fact, if he turned his head slightly he could see right through her to the other side of the grotto where the trees moved gently in the breeze in a shadow play scene tinted red by her robes.

"She's not a ghost, father," Palimak said. "Gundara says she isn't real. But Gundaree says she's sort of real." He shook his head. "They're not being very helpful today."

"What do you say, Safar Timura?" Hantilia said, again indicating the bench and the table of food.

"Will you take a chance with me? You've taken so many just to get here, what could be the harm?"

Safar sighed, accepting whatever fate had in store for them. Palimak took the sigh as a signal and scrambled off Khysmet. They quickly unsaddled the horse and set him free to graze on the tender grasses fed by the playing fountain.

As soon as they sat down in front the table of food they became famished and fell to. Hantilia sat quietly while they ate and drank. To Safar's surprise the magical food was delicious-in his experience such things always tasted like paper forgotten in some musty nook of a old library. There was never any substance or nourishment to that kind of food-when you finished eating you realized there had been no meal at all and you were left feeling just as empty as before. The drink she provided was equally as marvelous. Safar's cup proved to contain a never-ending supply of a rich, earthy wine, while Palimak's was an ever flowing container of what he said was a delicious fruit punch.