Danced, danced, danced.
Danced to the beat of the harvest drums.
All around him a thousand others sang in joyous abandon. They were a handsome people, a glorious people; naked skin painted in fantastic, swirling colors.
And they danced-danced, danced, danced-singing praises to the Gods as shell horns blew, drums throbbed and their beautiful young Queen cried out in ecstasy. She led them, tawny breasts jouncing, smooth thighs thrusting in the ancient mating ritual of the harvest festival.
Safar danced with her, pounding his bare feet against the sand, rhythmically slapping his chest with open palms. While above him the tall trees-all heavily laden with ripe fruit-rippled in a salty breeze blowing off the sparkling sea.
But while the motions of his fellow dancers were graceful, Safar's were forced and jerky-as if he were a marionette manipulated by a cosmic puppeteer.
Madness! was his mind's silent scream. I must stop, but I cannot stop, please, pleaseplease, end this madness! Yet no matter how hard he battled the spell's grip his body jerked wildly on-and on and on-in the Dance of Hadin.
For Safar Timura was trapped in the prelude to the end of the world.
Beyond the grove, a dramatic backdrop for the beautiful Queen, was the great conical peak of a volcano. A thick black column of smoke streamed up from the cone. It was the same volcano that Safar had seen in a vision many years before. And Safar knew from his vision that at any moment the volcano would explode and he, along with the joyous dancers, would die.
Was this real? Was he truly on the shores of Hadinland, destined to be swallowed in a river of molten rock? Or was it just a night terror that would end if only he could open his eyes?
He'd had such dreams before. Once he'd dreamed of wolves and Iraj Protarus had risen from the dead to confront Safar with murder in his heart and a horde of shape changers at his back.
And, with a jolt, he thought: Iraj! Where is Iraj?
He tried to force his head around to see if Protarus was among the dancers. But his body wasn't his own and all he could do was prance with the others, slapping his chest like a fool.
He had no idea how long this had gone on. It seemed as if he'd been a barely conscious participant in a dance that went on endlessly. Yet there were moments of chilling clarity, such as now, when he would regain use of his mind enough to struggle against the mysterious force that held him.
It was a cruel clarity, because each time he knew the fight was hopeless. He'd struggle fruitlessly, then lapse into semi-consciousness.
Safar thought he heard Iraj's voice among the others and once again tried-and failed-to look.
Then he felt his senses weaken as if a drug were creeping through his veins to cloud his mind. He bit down on his lip, grabbing at the pain to keep his wits.
With the pain came a sudden memory of Iraj standing before him. Half giant wolf, half all-too-human king. Flanking him were Safar's deadliest enemies: the demons, Prince Luka and Lord Fari; and the spymaster, Lord Kalasariz. All bound to Iraj by the Spell of Four.
Yes, yes! he thought. Iraj! Remember Iraj!
And what else?
There was something else. Something that had brought him here. If only he could recall, perhaps he could escape.
The machine! That was it!
The image floated up: Iraj and the others bearing down at him; at Safar's back the great machine of Caluz. A hunched turtle god with the fiery mark of Hadin on its shell. It was a machine whose magic was out of control and if Safar didn't stop it his beloved land of Esmir would die an early death.
He fought hard to remember the spell he'd cast then to plug the sorcerous wound between Esmir and the deathland that was Hadin.
The words kept slipping away. Think! he commanded himself. Think!
And it came to him that the words formed a poem. A poem from the Book of Asper.
Asper, yes, Asper. The ancient demon wizard whose strange book of verse had predicted the end of the world a thousand years before. And who had speculated on the means to halt the destruction.
Safar felt sudden joy as the spellwords burst from nowhere:
In Heaven's holy shadow.
What is near
Is soon forgotten;
What is far
He groaned as the rest of the words fled. Safar bit his lip harder, blood trickling down his chin.
Remember, dammit! Remember!
But it was hopeless. The remainder of the spell remained agonizingly just out of reach in a thick mist.
Fine, then. Forget about the verse. Think of what happened when you faced Iraj. Remember that-and perhaps the spellwords will come.
His mind threw him back to Valley of Caluz. His enemies before him, the sorcerous machine behind. He was alone: Palimak and Leiria had fled on his orders, leading the people of Kyrania to Syrapis and safety. Safar had remained to stop the machine and destroy Iraj so he couldn't pursue the villagers.
And then what?
His life, he realized instinctively, depended on recalling what had happened next. No. Not just his life-the world depended on it.
Very well. He had cast that spell. He could remember that. But, wait. Something had interfered! What, or who, had it been? Iraj? Had Iraj cast a spell of his own?
That was it! Iraj had attempted to break free from the Spell of Four, which bound him to Kalasariz and the others. Iraj had surprised Safar with that powerful bit of magic.
A collision of spells.
An explosion.
A blinding white light.
And then what?
Safar dug deep for the memory. He could recall intense heat. Then blessed coolness. Followed by a long time of floating on what seemed like billowing clouds-as if he were aboard Methydia's magic airship.
Time passed.
How much time, he couldn't say.
Then he'd heard-from far below-pipes and horns and throbbing drums. And voices-many voices-chanting a haunting song. Safar didn't have to struggle to remember
Her lips the moon;
Surrender. Oh, surrender.
Her eyes are stars,
Her heart the sun;
Surrender. Oh, surrender.
Her breasts are honey,
Her sex a rose;
Surrender. Oh, surrender.
Night and moon. Stars and Sun.
Honey and rose;
Lady, oh Lady, surrender.
Safar recalled twisting around and finding himself floating above a green-jeweled isle set in a deep blue
