The Gods Awaken

demon boy, Palimak; his mother and father and sisters-all tortured and humiliated most gruesomely, then murdered before Timura's eyes.

Kalasariza€™ emotions were so intense that his joy boiled over, flooding Rhodesa€™ veins. Feeling his own senses sharpened by the pleasurable turmoil within, Rhodes couldn't help but laugh aloud.

Fortunately, Tabusir and his other aides weren't close enough to hear, but only noticed their king's broad smile. He's in a good mood, they all thought, their own morale lifting along with Rhodesa€™ own spirits.

The king whispered, 'Are you thinking what I'm thinking, my friend?'

And Kalasariz lied: That soon we'll be rid of your mother, my lord, and then nothing can stand inour way.

'Exactly,' the king said. 'But I was also imagining some particular tortures we might apply before we kill her. She's such an awful woman. You have no idea what it's been like to be in her thrall all these years.

It's kept me from being the true king I deserve to be.'

Shifting focus, Kalasariz said, There's not much I don't know about imposing agony on miscreants,Majesty. When the time comes, perhaps you'd be interested in my views on that most absorbingsubject.

'Oh, I would, I would,' Rhodes replied, his imagination running wild about all the things he could do to repay his mother for her hateful treatment of him.

Then he saw the first of the longboats drawing near the Kyranian ship and pulled himself back from the contemplation of such delights. If he wanted to achieve his dreams, discipline was now required.

'Friend of mine,' he said, 'it's time to concentrate out energies. For I do believe I already hear the sweet song of victory.'

Kalasariz said, You are king and I am your glad servant. Give the signal, Lord, and let us engagethe enemy together!

And so Rhodes motioned to his officers. Who passed the word down. A signalman hoisted yellow flags and the heavy-weapons crews on all three ships went into action.

With a clatter and a rumble big catapults were run out on their wooden wheels. There were ten such weapons per ship-thirty in all, with skilled crews to man each one. Once run out and anchored into place, there was the groan of twisted sinew cords as they were wound down against their counterweights. Followed by the muffled thud of catapult arms settling against thick leather pads.

The next stage, loading the catapults, was tricky. A special fiery material, based on a formula Kalasariz had passed on and which Rhodes thought of as Esmirian Fire, was kept in furnaces placed next to each weapon.

Once the material was loaded into the catapult's scoop it was necessary to fling it at the intended target as quickly as possible, or the weapon itself might catch fire.

Although Rhodes had personally drilled each crew, still there had been several accidents-something he wanted to avoid repeating at all costs once the battle commenced. And so he'd worked out a simple system of signals so that all the catapults could be loaded and fired simultaneously on his command.

When all the crews reported that their weapons were ready and only needed arming, Rhodes took his time before issuing the order. Once again he surveyed the scene. All the longboats were in position-about a hundred yards off the Nepenthe, which was still unaware of the danger. There they would wait until the bombardment was over, then they'd rush forward to board the ship and seize it.

The king looked left, then right, noting that his ships were in proper order.

'Very good,' he said.

And he gave the order to load and fire.

Immediately thirty furnaces roared into life as their doors were slammed open and the hot material inside hungrily sucked up the salty air. Then came the grind of shovels against coals as the loaders dug their wide-bladed instruments into the green-glowing mass of Esmirian fire.

Followed by a long steady hiss from each catapult as the loaders heaped the sparking emerald flames onto the wet leather pads lining each catapult's scoop.

The moment the fiery mass touched the scoops, the crew captains triggered their weapons and the huge catapult arms slammed forward.

And thirty fiery green balls arced toward the sleeping Nepenthe.

Aboard the Kyranian ship Renor was caught in the throes of a nightmare. In his spell-induced sleep he dreamed he'd stumbled into a quagmire and no matter how hard he struggled, it was drawing him down, down, down.

What made the nightmare worse was that at the same time he sensed danger creeping up on him from the outside world. But, as with like the imagined quagmire, the more he fought to come awake the more the spell entangled him.

Nearby, Sinch and the other young Kyranian soldiers were experiencing similar nightmares. Some of them had been on watch when Clayre cast her spell and now they were slumped unconscious on the deck, twisting and groaning in fear. While their comrades who had already been asleep found themselves mired even deeper in their nightmares.

All around the ship the officers and crew were also struggling against Clayre's magic. The least influenced was Captain Brutar, who'd gone to bed so drunk that the fumes from his heavy load of liquor seemed to lessen the spell's effects.

Instead of a nightmare the pirate captain was enjoying a dream in which Safar and the other Kyranians had been overpowered by his crew and looted of their valuables. Now he was tossing them into the sea.

Pausing after each one plunged into the shark-infested waters to enjoy the humor of their frantic struggles.

He was fantasizing about holding Leiria and Jooli back for his further enjoyment when the first fireball struck the ship and exploded.

The impact hurled him out of his bunk onto his hands and knees. He remained there for a moment, fighting the alcoholic fog to regain his wits. Then another fireball hit, although this one failed to explode.

Cursing, Brutar struggled to his feet. It was then that he smelled what every sailor the world over fears the most-smoke!

He raced for his cabin door and hurled it open, practically ripping it from its hinges as he shouted, 'Fire!

Fire! Fire!'

When he stumbled up on the bridge it took him a long, bleary-eyed moment before he realized that no one was rushing to answer his call. To his amazement he saw one sailor curled up at the base of the ship's wheel, sound asleep. Not far away was the officer of the watch, also asleep.

Brutar lumbered around, seeing several other sailors scattered about the main deck, all sleeping fitfully.

Then he saw smoke and fire raging near the center mast, green flames licking up the thick spar toward the sails.

He was too stunned to be angry. Never in his life had he seen such a sight. Slovenly pirates that his men were, no one had ever fallen asleep on watch and lived to tell the tale. To his further amazement he spotted several of the young Kyranian soldiers slumped on the deck, also unconscious.

What in the hells was going on?

Then Brutar heard a loud whoosh! from above and he looked up to see a large green fireball arc over his head to plunge, hissing and steaming, into the sea.

It was then that he became aware of the line of longboats moving toward the Nepenthe, all filled with heavily armed soldiers. In the distance he saw three familiar ships drawn up, and firing on the Nepenthe with huge catapults.

The ships, he immediately realized, were from the fleet he'd left back in Syrapis many weeks before he'd begun this ill-fated voyage.

Brutar did what any right-thinking pirate captain would do under the circumstances.

He ripped the white shirt from his back and ran to the rail, waving it frantically at the approaching soldiers.

'Ahoy, the longboats!' he shouted. 'We surrender, gods dammit! We surrender!'