The little creature blasted him with voracious thoughts. Mine! it shrieked. I want… Mine!'
Safar heard Methydia shout, Hurry, Safar!'
But he took his time. He made the probe into two thick fingers. He reached for the worm, dodging small sharp knives of hunger and hate.
Then he caught it between the two fingers. The worm struggled, fighting back, searing his senses with blasts of sorcery.
He ignored the pain and crushed the worm.
Immediately he was assaulted by the foul stench of death. He staggered back, drawing his spirit self with him.
Safar heard a rumbling sound. Dazed, he looked up and saw the earthen giant crumbling into huge pieces of rock and dirt clods. As it came crashing down Biner leaped away just in time. A thick cloud of dust exploded as it hit, pebbles and debris showering everywhere.
Then the dust settled and there was nothing to be seen but a large mound of rubble.
Safar felt suddenly weak and confused. He turned to Methydia and recognized the look of awe in her eyes. It was the same look Iraj had given him when he'd brought the avalanche down on the demons.
'It was just a worm, he tried to say, but it came out as a mumble. A stupid little'
And he pitched forward on the ground.
The people of Kyshaat got their circus. Many said Methydia and her troupe staged the best performance of their careers. Children would grow old and regale their own disbelieving grandchildren about that fateful day when the creature that had caused so much misery had been defeated. And of the wild celebration that followed.
Safar, the hero of the hour, saw none of it. He lapsed into a coma for nearly a week. When he regained consciousness he was aboard the Cloudship and they were sailing through a storm.
Once again he was lying on a pallet in Methydia's cabin. It was dark and outside he could hear the winds moan through the lines and rain lash the deck.
He was thirsty and fumbled around with a blind hand until he brushed against a tumbler. He drank. It was warm wine and honey.
There was a blast of cold air as the door slammed open. He looked up. Methydia was standing there, a hooded parka covering her from head to ankle. Lightning crash followed lightning crash, illuminating her. She glowed in it, an aura forming around her slender body. Her eyes were glittering wells, drinking him in. A gust of wind hurled the parka aside. She was dressed in a thin white gown, nearly transparent from the rain.
Another gust of wind blasted past her, but the cold seemed to light a fire in him.
'Close the door, he said.
At least he thought he said it. His lips formed the words, but he heard nothing come out.
Just the same, Methydia closed the door.
Then he held out his arms and whispered, Please!'
Methydia floated across the room into his embrace.
He burrowed into the warm heart of her. Found the storm and let it loose. For a long time all he knew was the sensation of their love making and the sound of her voice calling his name.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
King ManaciaLion of the gods, Future Lord of Esmir, Courageous Protector of Ghazban, Perfect of Zanzair, His Merciful Majestysuffered from nightmares.
In his dreams he was pursued by naked human devils, with their scale-crawling ghoulish skins, talonless claws and thick red tongues that looked like eels grown fat from eating carrion.
He would no sooner slake his royal lust on a concubine and close his eyes to drift off to sleep, when the human hordes would come charging out, screaming blood-curdling cries and gnashing their flat, flesh-grinding teeth. The king would try to run but his limbs wouldn't obey him. He'd stand frozen as the ugly creatures surged forward, howling their hate.
Two tall humans always led the ravenous crowd. One was fair-skinned, with a golden beard and golden locks encircled by a crown. The other was dark and beardless, with long black hair that streamed behind him. The dark one had huge blue eyes that bored into his soul, ferreting out all Manacia held sacred and secret.
The dreams left him shaken and weak. For a long time he tried to ignore them, telling himself they were caused by nothing more than stress from his royal duties. His plans for invading the humanlands had him overwrought, that's all.
The planning was not going well, which added to his agitation. His generals were driving him mad with their overly cautious counsel. They wanted to gather an army so large, with supply lines so deep, that no human force could stand in their way.
At first King Manacia had nothing against this strategy. Overwhelming force was the common sense answer to any military difficulty. But what the generals considered overwhelming, the king soon learned, was always double whatever figure he proposed.
Manacia understood the careers and very lives of his generals and their staff depended on the outcome. The king made no apologies for his feelings regarding failure. He had no use for the weak or the unlucky, purging any and all who were associated with less than total victory. Yet his generals caution disappointed him. Where was their patriotism? Where was their sense of duty to king and Ghazban? You had to take a chance in this life, Manacia thought, or nothing great would ever be accomplished.
When the invasion came it was true the king intended to sorely punish any failure. But in his view the rewards he was offering for success should more than overcome his generals fears.
For some reason they hadn't. The plan was simple enough. Manacia intended to first conquer the regions north of the Gods Divide. The mountain range was a natural barrier that would allow him to work his will, then gather his strength for the final assault over the mountains. True, the ancient maps gave no hint on what route should be taken to cross the Divide. But Manacia was confidentgiven time and absolute rule over the northern humanlandsthat passage would be found. He would find Kyrania, by the gods! Or there were certain lazy, talon-dragging generals who would experience his royal wrath.
To accomplish the first part of his planthe subjugation of the northhis forces would cross the Forbidden Desert and set up a base camp just beyond the edge. Supply trains and reinforcement columns would pour into that camp, while the main force leaped forward to wipe out the humans.
It was Manacia's opinion that surprise would carry the day. Yes, he wanted a large force to mount the invasion. But it needn't be as large as his generals said, or attached to such unwieldy supply lines. No one in the humanlands had even a glimmer that their demon enemies were gathering for an assault. Manacia had made certain of this by refusing any request to send vulnerable scouting parties to investigate the humanlands. He'd already taken too great a chance by sending Sarn and didn't intend to dare the fates by repeating that error.
His generals, however, had seized on this secrecy, saying the blade cut both ways. Yes, they said, the wise course was to keep the humans in ignorance. But that meant the demons would know nothing of what transpired in the humanlands. When the king struck, he'd be cutting at the dark. There was no way of knowing who might return the blow and with what force.
The only safe thing, prudent thing, to do, his generals said, was to attack with a well-supplied army of such size that anyone who opposed them would be doomed.
Manacia's generals were a backbiting lot, always maneuvering behind the scenes to attack their brother officers, but on this issue they were united. In a rare alliance, Lord Fari and Prince Luka also joined together to back the generals.
Fari, kept from probing the humanlands with intelligence-gathering spells, had similar concerns as the military.
