Leiria clapped him on the back. 'Count on it,' she said.
Then she joined Jooli at the pentagram.
'Ready?' Jooli asked, drawing her sword.
Leiria nodded and drew her own. 'Ready,' she replied.
And so Jooli cast the spell.
A sheet of flame shot up, momentarily blinding them. Then the flame shattered in a soundless explosion.
Bursting into thousands upon thousands of fiery bits of color. It was like all the rainbows in the world had been gathered together, then smashed apart with a giant's hammer.
Slowly an enormous face formed within the hot shower of color.
It was the face of a lion. His huge cat's eyes glared at them. And then he roared.
Leiria and Jooli shouted their war cries and charged!
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Safar stood frozen in the center of the arena as his own son rushed toward him-a spear aimed directly at his heart.
The arena thundered with the shouts of a savage audience urging Palimak to 'Kill, kill, kill! Kill Safar Timura!' Underscoring the wild, blood-demanding chorus was the marrow-freezing roar of a mighty lion.
Caught on the horns of a nightmare dilemma, Safar was helpless to act.
The cold, outraged wizard side of him commanded self protection at any cost. Automatically digging for the ultimate, death-dealing spell to cut Palimak down in his tracks.
But in the place where all love dwells another part of him demanded the ultimate parental sacrifice-to die so that his son might live.
And then, from the narrow gulf between death and survival, came yet a third, most desperate voice:
Safar had the sudden vision of a world strangling in its own poisons. Of corpses heaped to the heavens.
Of seas turned into barren deserts littered with bleached white bones. Of howling devils fighting to suck out the last bit of marrow from life itself.
And with that vision came the nearly overpowering urge to slay his son. Ghostly commands shot through his body making his nerves and muscles twitch in reflex.
The killing spell flooded into his mind unbidden-numbing his will to resist.
Palimak was almost on him. So close Safar could hear Gundara crying, 'Stop, Little Master, stop!'
But the boy ran onward, eyes burning with murderous hate.
The heavy spear blade was only inches from Safar's heart. At the same time his killing spell coiled like a hissing cobra, ready to launch.
He had no doubt which would strike first. In less time than it took for a heart to beat, Palimak would be lying dead at his feet. And Safar would be standing over him, the bitter victor.
A man whose soul would carry the blackest mark of all: the sin of a father who had slain his own son.
But as Asper once wrote: Between thought and action lies a shadow. And in that shadow dwells the true power of choice. Of free will. The only real blessing the gods of creation bestowed on humans and demons alike. A gift to leaven the curse of this too-brief life.
So, at the last possible instant, Safar snatched up this power and used it as a bludgeon to slay the spell- cobra before it could kill his son.
And as he braced for the thrust of the spear blade, he whispered, 'I love you, Palimak.'
Then a hot, searing shock smashed into his body.
A thousand painful colors exploded in his brain.
He had a brief sensation of falling and then he collided with the ground.
Soft, leafy ground.
The moist smell of humus and rotting things.
Familiar voices murmuring in his ear.
Safar raised his head, bewildered that he was still alive. And he saw that he was back on the jungle trail.
Sergeant Hamyr and the other Kyranian soldiers standing above him.
And a few away was the unconscious body of Palimak, the spear still gripped in his hand.
Leiria saw the red dirt crashing up at her. She twisted in mid-air and tuck rolled to her feet, sword slashing at a blurred claw reaching for her throat.
She felt the sword strike hard iron, then slip and bite into soft flesh. She heard a lion's soul-satisfying roar of pain and danced to the side as another iron claw lashed out at her.
But then her heel slammed against a ridge in the ground and she toppled backward, twisting to keep her sword arm free and falling heavily on her side.
The iron claw rang as Leiria parried the next blow. But her fall had left her in an awkward, indefensible position. She caught a glimpse of her opponent as he rushed in, roaring in delight at his advantage.
From the shoulders down he was human-a near-giant clothed only in a loin cloth, which bulged as if he were equipped like a bull. His bare torso rippled with slabbed muscle. His arms and legs were thick as trees. Heavy iron claws were gripped in each mighty fist, one of which streamed blood from her initial blow.
From the neck up he was a lion. His huge cat's eyes glowed with fury. His powerful, spine-snapping jaws were spiked with whiskers like steel cables. All framed by a bristling yellow mane that fanned out like mighty wings.
As the claw came down she rolled to the side just in time and the hooks buried themselves in earth instead of in her flesh. But her back was exposed and she kept rolling, desperately trying to get out of the lionman's long reach.
Then Leiria heard Jooli's shrill war cry pierce the air, followed by the lionman's howl of surprise, and she exploded to her feet-back still exposed but turning, shifting her sword to her left hand so that she could draw her long-bladed knife.
In fighting position once more, Leiria saw Jooli fling herself to the side to avoid the lionman's charge.
Blood ran down his bare back, gory evidence of Jooli's lunge to rescue Leiria.
Shouting her war cry, Leiria raced to join her friend and soon they had the lionman pinned between them.
Big as he was, fiercely strong as he was, he was no match for the two warrior women. Only his long reach and ferocity kept them from closing in for the kill.
Gradually, they wore him down. First Leiria would lunge, forcing the lion man to face her. But then she would backpedal as he charged, fending off his blows.
At the same time Jooli would dash in and attack his exposed back. And the positions would be reversed, with Jooli backpedaling as Leiria sprinted into striking distance.
The battle raged for an hour before a strangely silent crowd of savages. They only gaped as their king streamed blood from a dozen wounds, his roars growing weaker with each timed attack.
Then the lionman stumbled and went to his knees. At that moment, Leiria thought she had him. She lunged at the lionman, blade aimed like a spear at his exposed neck.
But it was only a feint and he suddenly exploded upward. She still would have had him, would have buried her sword in his chest, but the lionman had escape-not continued battle-in mind.
He dodged to the side, then bounded away, racing for the big double gates at the far side of the arena.
Leiria and Jooli went after him. Although he was amazingly fast for his size, they were faster and were soon closing on him.
