Wolves of the Gods

Iraj turned back from his charges, sneering at Safar. 'And what a f riend you proved to be, Timura,' he said. 'To think I once swore a blood oath with you.'

Then his eyes met Safar's and there was a long, frozen moment as the two enemies regarded each other from across the room. The only sound was the harsh breathing of the wolves and Gundara's frightened whimpers from his perch on Safar's shoulder.

Even through thick lenses of hatred, Safar could see that Iraj was as handsome as ever-muscular frame draped in black, white teeth glittering through his golden beard. A simple crown of black onyx encircled his flowing locks. But his eyes were fiery red-red as the Demon Moon. Red as the wine he'd shared with Safar when they'd pledged eternal friendship and brotherhood. Red as the blood that had stained Nerisa's snowy breast when Iraj slew her. And now Iraj had returned to threaten the life of the one he loved most. A sleeping child-half demon, half human-named Palimak.

Blood infused with shape-changer's hate, all senses heightened to the painful extreme-it was all Iraj could do to check his murderous rage. Safar's obvious good health and strength infuriated him. Safar should be diseased and mutilated, with barely strength to draw breath for what he'd done to Iraj. At the same time, Safar's strange blue eyes penetrated his heart and saw his shame and guilt, which made Iraj fear him-and hate him even more.

Safar exhaled and the moment came unstuck, slamming his emotional gate shut before those old wrongs could overwhelm him. Revenge was an unpredictable sword that cut in all directions. It was enough for Safar to recognize that Iraj was his enemy-an enemy so powerful he'd risen from the grave to confront him.

Quick-so quick Old Man Time Himself couldn't take its measure-Safar formed the killing spell and his little silver dagger rose to blast Iraj back into whatever hells he came from. The two wolves sensed the danger. As he formed the spell they growled and as the dagger rose they gathered to leap-long fangs dripping, claws anxious to rip out his heart.

They'd be fast, Safar thought, but not fast enough.

Iraj's mind, however, was racing ahead of the killing moment. He knew Safar, knew him well, and could see his enemy consider the murderous possibilities. Safar blinked, deciding, and Iraj immediately knew what he'd do next.

Iraj instantly visualized the action from Safar's point of view. Safar would attack Iraj first. Then the wolf on the right. Finally he'd whirl to confront the third creature. But it'd be too late and Safar would be ripped from throat to groin. However, in the killing the wolf would also die. Except Palimak would be safe and that's all that would matter to Safar.

Yes, Iraj thought. That's his greatest vulnerability. The child.

Safar had the spell set and had all but cast it when Iraj raised a cautioning hand.

'Beware, Safar!' he said.

Instantly, he turned on his companions, shouting, 'Hold!'

And they held, snarling and gnashing their fangs. Eyes sparking in terrible frustration.

Safar stayed his hand as well. The dagger point dropped, but he only had to raise it less than an inch to hurl his spell.

'Consider before you act, Safar,' Iraj said. He gestured at Palimak, who stirred in his spellbound sleep, moaning as if suffering a bad dream, saying, 'Anything you do against me is certain to harm the boy.'

Gundara stirred uneasily on Safar's shoulder. 'He speaks the truth, master,' he whispered. 'One wrong move and Palimak is doomed.'

As low as he'd spoken, Iraj's hearing was so acute he overheard. He smiled, saying, 'If you won't heed me, heed your Favorite. And I promise you the child will not only die, but will suffer greatly in the dying.'

Safar let the dagger point dip lower. It wasn't a surrender, but it was an admission of momentary defeat.

Small as the gesture was, Iraj was thrilled by it. His overcharged shaper-changer's emotions frothed over and he couldn't help the wild laugh that exploded from his throat.

Safar winced. 'You look better than you sound, Iraj,' he said. He was surprised when he realized he hadn't meant to be sarcastic, or wounding. It was simply a natural comment between old friends. Or old enemies, as the case seemed to be.

'Never mind what I sound like,' Iraj snarled. He knew very well the laugh seemed like that of a jackal and felt humiliated by showing that weakness. It spoiled his momentary thrill of victory.

Grinding to gain the upper hand again, he said, 'You should be worrying about what I want instead of thinking up empty insults.'

'Very well, then,' Safar said, evening the game by making his voice and manner mild, 'What do you want with us?'

Another jackal bark. This time purposeful. 'Why, I only want your misery, my friend,' Iraj replied.

'Whatever injures you is my pleasure.' He nodded, indicating the wolves. 'Or should I say, our pleasure!

When you tried to destroy me, they were also injured most severely.'

He gestured at the wolf on his left. 'You remember King Luka, I presume?' Then to his right. 'And Lord Fari?'

Safar remembered them very well. Luka had been the crown prince of Zanzair before he'd conspired with Iraj to overthrow his father, King Manacia. Fari had been Manacia's chief wizard and Grand Wazier. In their original forms both were not men, but demons.

'Where's Kalasariz?' Safar asked, dry. He was speaking of the old human spy master who had been his nemesis for many years. 'It's my fondest hope he's absent from this impromptu party because I killed him.'

Iraj let his eyes widen in mock surprise. 'Of course you killed him, my friend,' he said. He motioned, his gesture taking in himself and the others. 'You killed us all! However, as you can see we've risen from the dead. Including Kalasariz. He's busy elsewhere and sends his regrets and apologies that he had to miss this reunion.'

'Call him forth, then,' Safar said. 'I promise you this time there will be no messy resurrection.'

As he spoke he let the dagger tip rise. He felt the weapon turn warm in his hand. He didn't have to look to know the point was white hot as if it had just been lifted from a forge.

Iraj saw what he was up to and laughed.

Leiria was rocked to the core when she peered through the window and saw Iraj.

Braced as she was by the dream that had driven her to Kyrania, she wasn't prepared to see her old lover in the flesh.

In the first shock wave of recognition her practical side was hurled into a gully of confusion. Battered logic rose to demand that her senses were badly mistaken. You're dreaming again, this practical side argued. In fact the whole thing is a dream. You never quit your post, much less rushed off on an insane journey to rescue Safar.

Nothing else made sense. Iraj was dead, wasn't he? Hadn't she seen his palace explode into flames with her own eyes? As well as the city surrounding it? Safar's spell was so powerful that nothing or no one could have escaped it.

She rubbed her eyes but the vision remained. Iraj was still hovering over little Palimak, two giant wolves standing on their hind legs on either side. Safar was still motionless in the doorway, Gundara chattering with fear on his shoulder. She saw the little magic dagger glowing in Safar's hand. She noted the ridge of concentration on his brow and knew he was gathering his strength to strike.

Mind racing with a thousand possibilities for action, all suicidal, she bent closer to listen.

'Let me tell you what I learned about dying,' Iraj said to Safar, very calm as if the burning dagger presented no threat. 'To begin with, it isn't necessarily fatal.' He laughed again, bitterly. 'Now isn't that a good jest?' he said. 'One that few could make. Unfortunately for you, I am one of those few. And I owe it all to them.'

Another gesture at the wolves. 'Thanks to them we were already exploring … how shall I say it … new forms of life? Or afterlife, if you will. And when you struck we were able to escape into one of those forms-Shape- changers!'

Iraj was crackling with inner fire. As he spoke he seemed to grow larger, shoulders broadening, chest