Yama rounded a corner at full speed, only to dig in his heels and draw up short. He only had moments in which to act. Putting his back to the wall, he raised his scimitar.
At his feet, a shadow grew quickly larger. The first Batua swept abreast of him. He struck, throwing all his weight into it, a short stroke to the creature’s neck. The Batua’s body went on running another eight or nine steps—but the head had flopped to the ground and tumbled end over end.
Yama didn’t see where the body fell. He had the second creature to contend with. It was right on the heels of the first, and in a display of remarkable agility, it bounded well out into the street.
Yama went after it. It was crucial he end the fight quickly and be on his way.
The Batua met him, blade on blade. This was no novice. Whoever, or whatever, trained them, had done a good job.
Yama wove a fierce tapestry with his scimitar. Few foes had ever matched his ability but the Batua held its own. Engrossed in delivering a killing stroke, Yama didn’t realize the Indrian had come up until something hard gouged him in the spine where his head met his neck. He did the only thing he could. He turned to stone.
Behind him, the Indrian barked more commands.
Yama didn’t know which rankled more, being relieved of his weapons or the Batuan’s smirk. When the green thing stepped back, a purple hand fell on his shoulder and he was roughly spun around to find himself staring into the muzzle of a cocked pistol.
The Indrian was smirking, too.
“This isn’t over,” Yama vowed. Not by a long shot.
CHAPTER 40
Hickok stood rooted in consternation as the old woman he had shared the cell with changed shape before his eyes.
Kayala lost all aspect of being human. Her skin, her very clothes, oozed a pale fluid. Reptilian scales appeared. Her arms and legs extended to three times their length, her torso took on the form of a crocodile’s or an alligator’s. Her head stretched and expanded until it was about the size of a watermelon. Four toes with hooked claws formed on her feet, and five fingers, similarly capped, extended from each hand. Her mouth became a pit of razors, teeth she displayed in a grin as she towered over the Warrior.
“Let me guess,” Hickok said. Not that he needed to. He had seen her kind before. “You’re a Gualaon.”
The shapeshifter bowed and addressed Dhurga in their unknown tongue.
The Lord of Kismet responded in English. “Speak in the ape’s language, Kantoz Shan. I want it to understand.”
“As you wish, my lady,” the reptilian said. “My will is yours.”
“As it should be.” Dhurga fixed her piercing eyes on Hickok and rested her oval chin in one of her many hands. “Do you hope to catch flies with your mouth hanging open like that?”
Hickok found his voice. “I’ll be danged. You have a sense of humor.”
“Danged?” Dhurga said. “Ah, yes. I was told you indulge in archaic expressions. Yet another of the many quirks and pretensions you apes indulge in.”
“That's twice you’ve called me a monkey,” Hickok said. “Is that all people are to you?”
“To your own kind, as well,” Dhurga said. “There was a time when your scientists believed humans are nothing more than glorified primates. That you had evolved from lower to higher forms.” Dhurga uttered a musical laugh. “Fools. Humans have always been as you are. Pathetic insults to the very concept of life.”
Hickok glanced at the double golden doors. So far as he could tell, they were the only way in and out. He couldn’t possibly reach them before the shapeshifter, or its master, reached him. Trying to escape was out of the question.
“Do not even think it,” Dhurga said.
“You can read minds, too?” Hickok said sarcastically.
“With your kind I do not need to. Humans are so abominably stupid, they are transparent.”
“And what about you’re talkin’ iguana, here?” Hickokk said, jabbing a thumb at Kantoz Shan. “Where do they fit into the scheme of things?”
The shapeshifter hissed.
“They are vastly more intelligent than your kind,” Dhurga said. “As far above you as my own race is above them.”
“Oh really? Than how come me and my pards were able to kill one? Not bad for a bunch of apes, huh?”
Dhurga looked at Kantoz Shan. “Is it as I suspected when I assigned you to assume human form and put you in with him?”
“Yes, my Lord,” the reptilian said. “Once he became convinced I was his friend, he revealed he is indeed one of the vaunted Warriors from the place they call the Home. He mentioned that two others are here with him.”
“Me and my big mouth,” Hickok said.
“To what purpose?” Dhurga asked the shapeshifter.
“If you can believe it, great one,” Kantoz Shan said, and laughed, “to destroy the Lords of Kismet.”
“Three of them?” And Dhurga laughed as well, long and loud, laughter that was sensual velvet to the ear and caused a tingle to shoot down his spine. “Oh, this is priceless. Wait until I tell the others. Shiva will find it hilarious. Krisna will laugh until he cries.” Shaking her head in amusement, Dhurga gazed down at Hickok. “Three apes to kill all of us? You have no conception of what you are up against.”
“Let’s talk about that,” Hickok said. “What are you, exactly?”
“We are the Lords of Kismet,” Dhurga declared, as if that were sufficient unto itself.
“Spare me the god bunk,” Hickok said. “You’re no more a god than me or this lizard.”
“Keep it up,” Kantoz Shan said.
Hickok wasn’t done. “And don’t tell me you’re the deities the Hindus used to worship, either. I’ve seen enough mutations and hybrids and whatnot in my time, that won’t wash.”
“Interesting,” Dhurga said.
About to press her further, Hickok was dumfounded when a bell sounded and a silver sphere shot out of a circular opening in the wall. It flew to the throne, hovered in front of Dhurga, and a male
