The Gods Awaken

And Safar saw the bloody face of the Demon Moon rear up, with its death-mask grin.

Khysmet trumpeted a challenge and Iraj reached for his sword.

Safar said, Wait, brother! It's not yet time for steel!

And at that moment the moon's face burst into a violent sheet of flame. The hot blast smashed Khysmet back and they spun over and over, the stallion fighting desperately to right himself. Iraj and Palimak clawing for purchase.

Finally, Khysmet kicked himself aright.

'Go!' Iraj shouted, digging in his heels. 'Go!'

And the stallion swooped toward the hot flames.

Safar hissed, The trumpet! We need the trumpet!

Iraj immediately plucked the shell horn from his tunic, lifted it to his lips-and blew!

Safar put all his magical energies into Iraj's breath. And the sound was like a thousand war trumpets shouting in unison.

A pale light bloomed, swelling larger and larger. And then the beauteous Spirit Rider burst out of the light on her glorious black mare.

Princess Alsahna turned in the saddle, waving her sword. 'This way, Safar!' she cried.

And she and the mare charged straight into the flames.

Khysmet bellowed lustily at the sight of the mare and charged after her.

Then they were surrounded by a sea of fire. Great boiling waves of flame bursting in from all sides.

Bone-scorching spears of fire cracking out of those waves.

The heat and the pain were so intense that it was all Safar could do to keep himself from screaming out, I surrender! I surrender!

Iraj shuddered with the pain, crying, What's this, brother? What's this?

And Safar felt Palimak's claws tighten, spearing through his tunic and into the flesh. He thought he heard his son shout, 'Father! Father!'

But he realized that Palimak was actually urging them on, crying, 'Onward! Onward!' And even in all his pain, Safar felt supreme pride at his son's bravery.

Then he saw the Spirit Rider charging back. The black mare rearing up and pawing the air.

Blue spears of light shot from her hooves, driving the flames back. And opening a passage through the boiling red sea.

Then the Spirit Rider whirled her mount about, shouting once again for them to follow, and charged out of sight.

Khysmet surged forward and there came a crack! crack! crack! A series of explosions so loud Safar felt like the bones of his shared body were about to burst.

And then everything became hazy. And everything became quite still.

And the only sounds were the boom of a slow, gentle surf, the rhythmic throbbing of sweet harvest drums, and a thousand glad voices lifted in song:

'…Lady, oh Lady, surrender.

Surrender. Surrender…'

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

THE VAMPIRES OF HADIN

The haze lifted and Safar found himself striding across warm sands. Khysmet was no longer with him, nor was the Spirit Rider.

In the distance he could clearly see the handsome dancing people of Hadinland. And there was their fabulous queen, bronzed hips and breasts heaving in the harvest dance.

Above the whole scene loomed the volcano. Beckoning and threatening at the same time.

Safar felt suffused with renewed hope and energy. His sight had returned and he was once again in full control of his body.

He felt so strong he barely noticed his armor. If the fates decreed his death, he thought, this was how he wanted to meet it.

'Welcome back, brother!' came a familiar voice.

And Safar looked to his left and saw Iraj striding beside him. Bedecked in burnished, kingly mail, Protarus was as young and handsome as when he'd first taken to the conqueror's road. His golden hair and beard glistened in the bright, tropical sun. And his smile was glad and innocent, as if he'd been washed of all his sins.

'The question is,' Iraj said, 'after all that has happened between us, are we still truly brothers?'

Safar wasn't sure how to answer. Wasn't clear in his feelings. And even if he had been capable of such clarity at this particular fates-colliding moment, he wasn't sure he ought to answer.

And then:

'I'm here, father,' came another voice.

Safar looked to his right and saw Palimak, tall and slender, with shoulders as wide as the spreading branches of a new oak tree. His eyes glowed with demon fires and his claws were ten glistening daggers.

Palimak smiled, exposing long, double-rowed demon teeth. And even as Safar looked he saw his son's face transform, the forehead bulging, the demon horn bursting through. And his skin toughened and deepened in color until it was an emerald green.

The boy sadly flicked out his long demon tongue and asked, 'Do you still love me, father?'

Again, Safar was confounded. But for an entirely different reason. How could Palimak ever doubt he loved him? Had he been such an unfeeling father that his own son-never mind he was adopted-doubted his love? Under any circumstances? Demon or human, or half-way in between, what did it matter?

Palimak was just Palimak.

Then it came to him-the same was true of Iraj!

And Leiria, oh, yes, Leiria; he loved her too.

Safar said: 'All my words are poor. You ask if I love you, son. Of course I do. I always have and always will. And you, Iraj. You ask if I am your friend. And my answer is the same. Even in my hate I loved you.'

Then he pointed at the glowering, fire-spitting volcano.

'There is the doomspell that has driven us all these years. And if we manage to destroy it we'll awaken the gods.

'But I must warn you both it's unlikely that the gods will thank us. I think they'll curse us instead and make us suffer for what we've done.'

Iraj said, 'Be damned to them, brother! What can they possibly do to me that I haven't already done to myself?'

Palimak snorted agreement. 'I don't care what the gods think. They may have created this world but we're the ones who must make a life here the best we can!'

Safar laughed. 'Very well, then,' he said. 'Let's have at it!'

Iraj slapped him on the back. 'Good, it's settled. Now, brother, let's hear your plan.'

He gestured at the dancing people. Just beyond them, standing behind Queen Yorlain, was the bulky figure of King Rhodes, leaning easily against his sword.

'What's the best way,' he asked, 'to make these fools beg for mercy?'

Safar grinned ruefully. 'Actually,' he said, 'I don't have a plan. Nor do I have any magical tricks up my sleeve. Just my sword to put with yours.'

'And mine,' Palimak whispered, drawing his weapon.

Iraj roared laughter. 'Then be damned to us all!' he shouted.

And with that he charged the dancing people, bounding across the rolling sand dunes on his way to meet whatever the fates had in store for him.

Feeling as foolish and frightened as he had years before when he charged after Iraj down the snowy passes