sound as their feet struck the ground; even in open attack, they showed their stealth.
What he needed was a good sword — one enchanted to dispatch natural and supernatural entities alike. But this was rather late to think about procuring one.
The Hellhounds ringed man and horse, pausing to study the situation. In a moment one or more would pounce.
Zane's eye fell on the scythe. Suddenly he remembered the manner in which Mars had suggested that he practice with it. He had not done so, as his attention had been taken by other things. But he did know how to swing a scythe.
The first Hellhound pounced.
Zane grasped the scythe and jumped to the ground. The Hound passed overhead, missing the suddenly descending target. That freed a few more seconds.
Zane shook the scythe so that its giant blade snapped into place at right angles to the handle and locked there.
'Get out of here, Mortis!' he cried. 'This is not your quarrel.'
The Death steed bolted.
Zane hefted the scythe. He felt its terrible power. Oh, yes, this was a good weapon! 'Come at me, puppies!' he cried, letting his volatile temper take over, and the cruel blade gleamed. 'Come try my strength, you dogs who thought to attack helpless prey! But when you do, O beasts of night, know that you face the Lord of Night. I am Death!'
The first Hound, unimpressed, turned and leaped again. It seemed this kill was the privilege of the leader. Zane angled the great blade upward, pointing roughly at the Hound. The monster canine landed on it.
The gleaming point entered the Hound's head and slid right through to its tail, almost without resistance. Blood spurted at each end as the creature expired. The magic blade had efficiently destroyed the magic animal.
Two more Hellhounds, still unimpressed, pounced, one from each side. Zane hauled the blade out of the first and whipped it about in a fierce circle. It struck the first Hound halfway up its body and passed through as if encountering snow.
The top half of the monster's body flew off, leaving the bottom half to collapse in a burble of blood.
The blade carried on to contact the second Hound crosswise. The front of its body parted company with the rear. Guts spilled out as both halves collapsed.
Three Hellhounds remained. They were now impressed. 'What's the matter, curs?' Zane taunted them. 'Don't you like it when your quarry fights back?'
Another stepped forward, jaws gaping. Its teeth and tongue were as black as solid soot. It belched forth a searing jet of fire.
Zane's blade swung, separating the creature's head from its body. The fire died as the canine did.
Four down, two to go. Zane's right side smarted where the fire had heated his cloak. This fire was more penetrating than that of the Hot Smoke dragoness! But he couldn't rest now.
'Exactly whom did you suppose you were stalking, O sons of Hellbitches?' Zane demanded, stepping toward the two with a blade that dripped the blood of their companions. 'By what unholy arrogance did you expect to interfere with an Incarnation? Begone, whelps, lest I slice you in thin pieces!'
But one Hound refused to be intimidated. It charged — and Zane's terrible blade swept off all four of its legs with one motion. Still determined, the monster opened its mouth to shoot fire, so Zane clipped off the tip of its muzzle. 'Are you a slow learner?' he inquired savagely. 'Give over, or I will treat you unkindly.'
The Hound, incapacitated, lay still and bled.
Zane turned to the last. 'Put your tail between your legs, O sniveling cur, and flee back to your fell master,' he cried, orienting the bright red blade. 'Tell him not again to send pups to do men's work!'
The Hellhound, cowed at last, put down its tail and fled.
Zane's knees felt weak. He had done it! He had bluffed them out!
Bluffed them? No, he had destroyed them, by drawing on a power of his office he had not consciously exploited before. His practice with the scythe, long ago in life, had proved well worthwhile!
Mortis trotted back, nickering. 'That was a credit to the office. Death,' the translation said.
Zane shrugged. 'It was necessary. A desperate man does what he has to do. If I had had any escape, I would have taken it; since I had to fight, I fought as well as I knew how.' For once his temper had served him well! 'Satan underestimated me this time; I dare say he will not do so again. But I hope in time to serve the office with distinction. It's not that I regard myself as any superior person, for I am not; it's that the office of Death deserves the best that I can give it.'
He mounted, and they started toward Earth. 'Why didn't you tell me about the scythe?' Zane asked. 'I did not know it could be used against Hellhounds,'
Mortis admitted. 'My former master never employed it in that manner.'
But Mars had known! 'So there are powers of the office that are inherent, regardless of the officeholder or the amount such powers have been used before,' Zane concluded. 'Could there be others?'
'I am not the first Death steed,' Mortis neighed. 'My predecessors may have seen things that are now clouded. But I understand the office of Death varies considerably with each officeholder. Interpretation is critical. At his height. Death is balked by no force in the firmament.'
'I've been balked at every turn!' Zane protested.
'Not when you held the Deathscythe!'
'I was desperate,' Zane repeated. But already he looked back at that episode with a certain grim pride. He had been foolish, but he had destroyed the enemy. Death did indeed have power, when Death chose to exert it. Nature had intimated as much. Had he remained confused, in effect acquiescing in his own slaying by the Hellhounds, that would have occurred; but he had not — and they had been helpless against him. Had his predecessor not cooperated in his own murder by being careless, he would have survived and Zane would be in Eternity.
'My own immediate predecessor in the office — what kind of Death was he?' Zane knew the man had gone to Heaven, but that did not necessarily speak well for his competence.
'A mediocre one, or he would not have lost the office.'
'I mean how did he perform? I know he was careless at the end, but that does not mean he wasn't a good worker. Did he keep up with his schedule? Did you like him?'
'He kept his schedule better than you keep yours,' the horse said. 'I can not afford to become emotionally attached to any specific person.'
'So you will not miss me when I'm gone,' Zane said. 'That's best. I appreciate the loyal and competent service you have given me from the outset and know you will be a great help to my successor.'
Mortis did not answer.
They landed in the city of Kilvarough. Mortis converted to the Death mobile and drove Zane to Luna's address.
She met him at the door. 'Oh, I worried about you, Zane,' she said, relieved. 'The consequence of opposing Satan — '
'I can handle it,' he said, not wanting to burden her with the knowledge that his life was now seriously in jeopardy. Satan would surely bring more potent forces to bear — but if Luna knew that, she might try to do something foolish, such as removing herself from life. 'I just came to ask you to stand firm no matter what happens. And to remind you that I love you.'
Her relief was turning quickly to social concern. 'You have gone on strike! Do you realize what this means?'
'I am being rapidly educated,' he admitted. 'People are suffering grievously. But — '
'They are stacking up in the hospitals,' she said severely. 'The terminal cases just won't die, and new patients keep coming in at the normal rate — it's been only a few hours. Can you imagine what it will be after a few days'! The world can't go on this way!'
'I know it is hard,' Zane said. 'But the alternative — '
'Aren't you the one who smashed up a hospital room to free one client from a pointless and painful life? You believe in death!'
