Wolves of the Gods

primitive side most men would rather not discuss, took note of her remarkable figure. She was large, yes. A demon, yes. But her shape was the perfect hourglass that dumbfounds all human and demon males.

When they came together, pausing for the formal greeting, Safar felt shamefaced, like a boy.

She held out her claw, dainty as a maid, saying, 'I am Hantilia. Queen of Caluz. And chief priestess to the Oracle of Hadin.'

In Protarus' court Lord Fari was making his final preparations.

'I'll need your help, Majesty,' he said. He motioned to the others, Prince Luka and Lord Kalasariz. 'All of you must help. To ferret out Safar Timura we need the full powers of the Spell of the Four.'

Everyone leaned forward, concentrating, as Lord Fari made magical motions over the heads, chanting: Speak, my Brother.

Speak, my Sister.

Speak, O creatures of the Shades!

What road does Timura take?

What goal does he seek?

And what is his heart's desire?

Soul numbing shrieks shattered the air as both heads came alive. Their eyes burned with pain and they screamed to the heavens as they relived their final moments on the sporting field. Their anguish was so deep that it pierced Iraj's shape changer's heart and struck at the core that was still human.

Their wails echoed throughout the royal chamber, hammering at his ears and rattling the small, scarred thing he called a soul. He wanted to shout at Fari to end their agony and his misery, but he clipped it off, gagging on guilt. To do otherwise would show a dangerous weakness.

Then, thankfully, Fari waved a claw and the wailing stopped. Two pairs of haunted eyes turned to regard the demon wizard.

'Speak, my sister,' Fari chanted. 'Speak, my brother. Grant us this boon and we shall release you from all your cares.'

The woman spoke first, voice quaking with pain. 'He is near!' she said. 'He is very, very near!'

Then the man, in equal agony-'Yes, he is near! Run my friend, run from these devils!'

The woman shouted-'No, don't run! Please don't run! Save us, Safar Timura! Save us!'

Fari chortled. 'What willful heads,' he said to Iraj and the others. 'No matter. They're very young and so it's to be expected.'

Then, to his victims-'Lord Timura can't hear you. And even if he could, there'd be no help. You are in our care, my lovelies. Only I can help you. Now speak. What road does Timura take?'

And the woman said, 'The king's road.'

'What king?' Fari pressed. 'Tell us his name.'

'Protarus,' the man croaked.

'Timura and the king,' the woman said, 'travel the same road.'

Fari was clearly puzzled. Luka, seeing slender hope, said, 'I knew this was nonsense from the start.'

But Protarus shouted, 'Silence, you fool!'

The outburst surprised Iraj as much as the demon prince. Mysterious as the answers were, they made ghostly, skin-prickling sense.

Emboldened, Fari continued. 'What goal does he seek?'

'Hadin,' the woman said. 'The Land of Fires.'

And the man said, 'Two were together. But now there is one.'

Iraj shuddered as the words unleashed memory's flood. Suddenly he was a boy. And Safar was with him, casting the demon bones to see what the future held.

He remembered the red smoke hissing up, rising like a snake. Then out of the smoke a mouth formed, curving into a woman's seductive smile. Then she spoke, and he could hear the words clear echoing down the long corridor of years:

'Two will take the road that two traveled before. Brothers of the spirit, but not the womb.

Separate in body and mind, but twins in destiny. But beware what you seek, O brothers. Bewarethe path you choose. For this tale cannot end until you reach the Land of Fires.'

Then he was jolted back to the present as Fari asked the final question:

'What is his heart's desire?'

And the woman said, 'Love.'

And the man said, 'Hate.'

And Fari shouted, 'Answer clearly, or I'll blast your souls to the Hells!'

But once again Iraj could glimpse cloudy meaning and the two words, 'love' and 'hate' churned about in his guts.

Kalasariz spoke up. 'Some of my spies are like that. Ask the time and they count the grains of sand in the glass. Perhaps our questions are too general.'

Fari took heart and tried again. 'Tell me brother, tell me sister, where is Lord Timura now?'

'Caluz,' the man answered.

Fari was pleased. 'Who does he seek there?'

'The Oracle of Hadin.'

'Now it makes sense!' Kalasariz said. He turned to Iraj. 'There is a famous oracle at Caluz. Called the Oracle of Hadin, I believe.'

Fari could see his victims were tiring. He wracked his brains for a last question.

Then, 'Tell me brother, tell me sister, what is Lord Timura's purpose in Caluz?'

The answer came in a ghastly chorus: 'To kill the king.'

Then their eyes went lifeless, their lips slack, and blood gushed to the floor.

Fari turned to address the king, rattling his talons in glee. But when he saw the state Protarus was in, he kept his silence. He noticed Kalasariz and Luka were also staring in wordless fascination. The king was flickering from one shape to the other at a blinding rate, claw and maw and handsome human profile winking in and out of existence.

Iraj knew his emotions were an unchecked torrent, but he couldn't help himself. The announcement that Safar sought his death had unaccountably ripped him from his moorings. He suddenly felt as if he were the hunted, instead of the hunter. He knew this made no sense. Safar was the deer, Iraj the bowman.

Still, he'd felt a chill run down his spine when the words were spoken: 'To kill the king.'

Then fear turned to mad outrage. This was betrayal! Safar was his friend! How could he possibly plot to assassinate a friend? Never mind that Iraj tried to kill Safar long ago and had sought his death since.

Never mind that Safar had struck back furiously, nearly killing Iraj and destroying his kingdom. Deadly blows had been exchanged many times over the years. Safar Timura was clearly his enemy. But why did Iraj still feel he was also a friend? A friend bent on betrayal and murder?

All these thoughts and emotions stormed about his heart and brain, then anger took root and bloomed into a mighty tree, spreading strong branches of rage all through his body from toe to nape.

With anger came cold reason and purpose and fully human now, he rose to his feet. Golden beard and head and crown glowing in the torch light. He was Iraj Protarus, by the gods! The King of Kings. Lord of the Shape Changers. Greater even then the Conqueror Alisarrian, who was a mere mortal, wizard though he had been.

'We all owe you a great debt, my lord,' he said to Fari, who visibly preened, not caring if Luka or Kalasariz noticed. 'Now we know not only exactly where Safar Timura is hiding, but we know that Caluz has been his goal all along.

'Timura is not a man to just run and hide. He was mountain born and people who live so high above us all have courage and will bred into them. They breathe air so thin it would make you faint. I lived among them once, so I know. I was weak and light-headed for days before I found my footing. In fact, I think that's the reason for it. The reason Safar and his Kyranians have managed to defy us for so long.

'It's the air, dammit! And I curse myself for missing it all this time. I'm a man of the plains. The air is thick