Allan Cole: Wolves of the Gods

King Protarus was agitated as he approached the group gathered around Lord Fari. From the angry tone of the voices he heard echoing across the gory snow, the king was riding into the middle of a debate. It was an argument so heated the participants didn't notice the imminent arrival of the royal party.

Iraj pulled up his horse, raising a hand to bring his aides and guards to a halt. Pushing aside the reason for his agitation, he leaned forward, listening.

"This is insanity, Fari!" Luka was raging. "You're holding up the entire godsdamned army with all your second-guessing."

"I must agree with Prince Luka," Kalasariz said. "There's a time for caution and a time to strike onward."

Then their voices dropped to more normal levels and Iraj couldn't hear what was said. He let the shape-changer's side of him come to the fore, snout erupting, bones cracking and shifting horribly, forming the head of a giant wolf sitting on a human body. There were involuntary gasps of terror from his men and he snarled for silence.

With his heightened senses he could hear their words with startling clarity.

"How many times must I repeat myself," Fari was raging, "before you two fools understand what I am trying to tell you. Lord Timura's trail ends here. It does not continue on through the pass."

"Something must be wrong with your sniffers, Fari," Luka said. "And as always you are too stuffed with pride to admit it when your magic fails you. I'm the one who is most at risk here. I'm the one who nearly died I don't know how many times today. I am the one most likely to die as a result of your pride.

But never mind that. The point is, this halt you ordered is not only likely to result in many unnecessary casualties, but also endangers the entire expedition. The longer we wait to clear the rest of the pass, the more time we give the enemy to regroup."

"And for Safar Timura to escape," Kalasariz put in. "Which is far more important. I guarantee you that if we bring him to ground, Protarus won't care how many of our soldiers' lives were wasted."

"I warn you both," Fari said. "If you prevail over me with the king Lord Timura has an extremely good chance of prevailing over us."

Kalasariz sneered. "You've underestimated this man all along, Fari. As have you, Luka. I have more experience with him than either of you. I first tried to kill him when he was nothing more than a ragged-cloaked student in Walaria with barely enough funds to pay for the crusts he ate. I even had him on the executioner's block. On his knees, mind you. His neck bent for the sword. He escaped despite what any rational fellow would judge as impossible odds against him. Just as he has escaped us countless times ever since."

Fari rasped laughter. "What's this?" he mocked. "You tried to kill Timura before? During a time when it was known to all he was the king's dearest friend. Why, it was my impression that you told the king you were Timura's secret ally in Walaria. You repeated that tale when we went to the king with charges that Timura was conspiring against him. A tale you told in the manner of a man who was shocked to learn of Timura's perfidy."

Kalasariz started to answer, but just then the three sensed Iraj's presence. They turned, gaping when they saw him, burying their reactions as quickly as they could.

Iraj kept his wolf's head intact for a long moment, making sure they'd worry about how much he'd overhead. The spy master, whose remarks gave him reason to have the most to fear, was the first to recover.

"Hail, O King!" Kalasariz cried. "Once again you have inspired us to win a great victory!"

Fari and Luka shouted similar bold words of praise.

Iraj resumed his human shape, flicking the reins for his horse to amble forward. He sat easily in the saddle as if he hadn't a care in the world, letting a sarcastic smile play across his face to heighten their tension.

Inside, his emotions were boiling to a froth. There were two more battles he had to win before the day was done. First, Safar. Next, his spell brothers. To build confidence and bring his emotions under control he imagined Safar's corpse under his boot while he confronted these three-his final enemies. From this moment on he had to view everything as a sport. A sport in which Iraj Protarus, king of kings, had no master. With one hand he would display a whip of fear, with the other, a broad palm heaped with the gift of the king's favor.

As Iraj closed the distance between them Fari caught a whiff of the king's intent-plus … something else.

Something he couldn't quite put a talon on, except that it did not bode well for him or his companions in conspiracy. In his long life Lord Fari had advised and survived many kings. It was his ambition that Iraj Protarus would be the last royal fool he had to suffer. A master wizard, a demon of incredible cunning, Fari knew every mask a king could present to his royal advisers. And in Iraj's face he read his demise.

His old heart bumped over the rocky road of logic. It was the Spell of Four that chained Protarus to them. A spell that he had created and cast. A bond that could be rearranged-with Fari as the ultimate mechanic-but not broken. Then suspicion, his most faithful friend, crept into his bosom. The king has a secret, he thought. A secret that did not bode well for any of them.

Before Iraj came within hearing distance, Fari whispered, "Beware, brothers! If you want to live, be with me!"

"Bugger you!" Luka whispered. "We're in the right. You are most grievously wrong."

"Who cares?" Kalasariz hissed. The spy master didn't have to reflect on Fari's warning. He too, sensed danger. "New truce. Quick!"

"And let you be the first to stab me in the back?" Luka replied. "Bugger you as well!"

"Trust me!" Fari urged. "Or all is lost!"

"Truce, dammit! Truce!" Kalasariz said.

Iraj rode up before Luka had a chance to answer. On horseback Iraj towered over them, his crown sparkling with jewels and rare metals. Shoulders squared, head uplifted, that knowing, scar-twisted smile playing across his lips, making his face unreadable.

The king raised his sword to Luka in salute. "It is you who should be congratulated for this victory, my good and loyal friend," he said. "Your bravery is an example to us all."

As the demon prince bowed in humble thanks the sense of peril became so strong his skin pebbled and began to itch as if he were about to molt.

"I am not worthy, Your Majesty," he murmured.

"Don't be so modest," Iraj said. "It is you and you alone who deserves full credit. And to reward your great deeds I will give you the honor of leading my army onward to even greater glories."

Not far away Kalasariz' assassins were roaming the battlefield cutting the throats of the enemy fallen with magical knives. Making certain no Guardian would never rise again. Luka heard the tell-tale hiss of ghostly life fleeing the temporal world and reconsidered.

"Modesty has nothing to do with it, Your Majesty," he said. "The fact is, at this time it would be imprudent of me to assume such an honor."

Iraj let his eyebrows rise as if he were surprised at this statement. "Is there some problem?"

"Only one of indecision, Your Majesty," Luka said. He gestured at his companions. "At this moment we were debating the merits of what to do next."

Out of the corner of his eye Luka saw Fari and Kalasariz visibly relax. The truce was on.

"What's this?" Iraj said. "A disagreement? At such a crucial moment for us all?"

"Only a small one, Majesty," Fari said, wringing claws of humility. "My brothers think we should continue on until we reach the end of this pass. And, presumably, come upon Lord Timura waiting for us in Caluz. I, on the other hand, believe that some sort of trick has been played on us."

Further down the pass they heard a chorus of frustrated howls from a pack of sniffers. Fari nodded toward the sound. "Safar Timura doesn't wait for us there, Majesty," he said. "At least that is my opinion. I think we will only find the machine that has been bedeviling us since we entered the Black Lands. If I am right, many of us will die before we have time to turn back. And once again Lord Timura will most certainly be laughing up his sleeve at us as he makes his escape."