Cloak of the Two Winds (28 page)

His voice made the space around the Iruks ripple with power. The power was echoed and enhanced by the attending crowd and by the very stones of this place. Lonn felt an irresistible calm creep over him, stilling his mind and nerves.

"Hold yourselves apart from him." Amlina's voice came from far away. "Remember who you are!"

"Stand there," Kosimo ordered sternly. "Do not move. You are my obedient servants now."

The deepshaper's will stole over Lonn, expunging all thoughts of resistance. Lonn existed only to do the master's bidding. The Iruks stood with faces dull and blank, eyes gazing straight ahead. Kosimo nodded his approval and ordered that their bonds be cut. Distantly, Lonn felt the pull of the blade, then his arms slipping to his sides. With desperation he strained to hold on to Amlina's words:
Remember who you are
.

Kosimo had stepped over to the witch. "The barbarians cannot resist my control. Oh, I know that you have trained them. That is why I have assembled so many of my servants, to amplify my power in draining off their wills. I have found that these Iruks make excellent thralls once their wild temperaments are tamed. Your use of their minds to locate their lost female was an inspired bit of witchery, excellently done."

"You flatter me," Amlina replied. "You who enthralled this woman across the bounds of space and manipulated her into bringing you the Cloak."

Kosimo smiled with pleasure. "I seized her will across the veil of distance by an ancient technique. The difficult part was forcing her to use her own knowledge to rig and sail the Iruk craft. Eleven days and nights I sat working that ensorcellment. A worthy accomplishment of mine, I do agree."

"Exceedingly worthy," Amlina responded, "even for a serd."

"'Yes. I did not expect my disguise to fool a witch of Larthang."

Doggedly struggling to assert his will, Lonn had finally managed to shift his eyes enough to watch the Hierophant. Now he saw the air waver around Kosimo's face. The eyes grew even larger and the lids disappeared. Hair and beard vanished, and the skin took on a hideous, glistening appearance.

"But tell me," the serd coaxed Amlina. "How precisely did you see through my disguise?"

"Intuition." Amlina shrugged. "The sense of humanity was lacking. I did not know any of your race still walked the dry land."

"No." A note of hostility pierced the serd's urbane manner. "My people were driven from the land long ago by your Larthangan ancestors. The agony and terror of that time still lives in our memories. So most serds cower beneath the waves, fearful of human witchery. But I was never so timid. I knew my race to be superior to yours. Witness how easily I have passed for human all these years while mastering the occult wisdom of humans, how easily I surpassed all rivals to gain this position of priestly power."

"And now you have the Cloak of the Two Winds," Amlina said.

"Yes. Long ago it came to me as I swam in the Deepmind that one day the Cloak would be stolen from the East. I began to plan my ensorcellments at once. I waited forty years for you to go to Tallyba and accomplish the thievery I had foreseen, half a lifetime to the pitiful spawn of your race, but not so long for a serd to wait."

"You mean to destroy the Cloak, don't you?"

"Indeed. Did you surmise this from the nature of the weather disturbances, or did you apprehend it just now from my thoughts? No matter. Soon it will be done. The Cloak will be unmade and with it the ensorcellments of Eglemarde. Then the stagnant balance that keeps your puny race supreme will topple and fruitful chaos overwhelm the world. Your race will be driven from power and mine, or some other more worthy, will take its place."

Lonn shuddered inside, but whether his body actually moved he could not tell.

"But you have possessed the Cloak for many days," Amlina said. "And still have not succeeded in destroying it."

"I will," Kosimo answered. "It hangs constantly in a blasting fire fueled by oil, sulfur, and coal. And each third hour I cast a design wherein the fabric of the Cloak is utterly consumed in flame. The disturbances of air and sea about this city daily grow more violent. And they are but a shadow of the disruptions that will follow. This second age of humans is drawing to an end."

The serd paused, letting his aroused passions grow calm. "Soon you will be dead," he told the witch. "And there is only one other who may have a chance of stopping me: the Archimage of the East. You were her apprentice, one of the few to ever best her. Yes, I know you stole the Cloak while she lay in deep trance, and that you've been fleeing from her ever since. Yet you know her traits and skills better than I. Help me to defeat her, and I will make your death easy."

"I know a great deal that might aid you," Amlina said. "But I will tell you nothing unless you promise to spare our lives."

Kosimo glared, considering how to answer.

"She cannot help you, spawn of fishes," a woman's voice rang from the rear of the hall. "Nothing can help you now."

Kosimo stiffened and gaped at the speaker.

Lonn could not swing his head enough to look, but it did not matter. He already knew whose voice it was.

Lonn wished desperately that he could move, that he and his mates could grab Glyssa, draw their blades and fight their way free. His will battled to break the serd's spell, so that his arms shook with the effort. He could sense the same striving in the minds of his mates. But all the Iruks remained standing in their places.

Kosimo straightened to his full height. "So, witch of the east, you also have obligingly walked into my trap."

"Where is my Cloak?" Beryl said.

Kosimo did not wait longer. "Kill her," he commanded every thrall in the chamber.

Irresistibly, Lonn turned, as the sea of gaunt faces turned toward the rear of the hall. Those thralls with weapons leveled them and started forward. Lonn watched his sword and dagger being drawn by his hands.

"Wait," Amlina shouted. "Iruks, stay with me."

All the klarnmates except Glyssa paused for an instant. In that instant, Kosimo's power over them snapped, and they owned themselves again.

"Get Glyssa," Amlina said. "Draven, cut me free."

Silent and single-minded, the mob of temple servants advanced toward the portico where the tall witch stood.

"Get back!" Beryl ordered, holding up her hands.

So great was the power of her voice and gesture that all of Kosimo's mindless ones halted or fell back a step. Quickly Beryl unclasped a necklaces of black beads and dashed it on the floor. Whirling funnels of smoke spouted from the broken beads, rising and solidifying into seven immense man-shaped things—drogs with tiny domed heads, bulky shoulders, and long arms that ended in sword-blades.

Kosimo had run up the steps of his dais so that he stood level with Beryl's position on the far portico. "Destroy those creatures," he commanded.

Obediently his thralls charged forward, whether armed or not. The seven-foot monstrosities lifted their arms and started down the steps, moving with weird mechanical precision.

Lonn and Karrol had darted to the backmost ranks of the temple host and grabbed hold of Glyssa. Fighting to obey her master's will Glyssa shrieked, kicked at Lonn and scratched Karrol's face, nearly tearing off her eye patch. But then Eben and Brinda reached her and each of the four Iruks took one of her limbs. Glyssa writhed and spat in hysteria as her mates carried her off.

"This way," Amlina gestured them to a curtained doorway on the left portico. Draven stood with the witch, holding the quivers of spears, which he had had the presence of mind to snatch off the floor.

The Iruks hauled Glyssa across the chamber and up the steps. As they reached the portico Lonn glanced back at the rear of the chamber—a wild confusion of twisting bodies and slashing blades, the blood-splashed drogs looming over all.

Glyssa screamed, trying to tear free. Grimacing, the four Iruks bore her across the portico and out of the hall.

Watching from his dais, Kosimo did nothing to prevent the Iruks' departure. The apprentice witch and her primitives could be dealt with later. The Archimage of the East was the real danger.

Kosimo's thralls battled with unwavering ferocity and absolutely no concern for their lives, yet they were proving no match for Beryl's giant sword-men. Except for the forty-odd temple guards in their plate armor, the Hierophant's minions were hardly equipped for combat. Two of the towering drogs had been borne down by sheer weight of numbers, their domed heads pierced so that now they writhed uselessly on the portico steps. But the other five were cutting through the massed temple forces, smashing halberd shafts and beating down swords, lopping off arms and splitting skulls. Blood spouted in arcs and collected in puddles on the floor. Kosimo felt the death agonies of his servants as dull pricklings of pain.

Another of the drogs was toppled and slain as the serd watched, but the current of the battle was against him. Then he spotted Beryl, walking along the side portico, coming toward him. She had managed to circle around the host of his thralls, who now fought and died near the center of the hall.

Beryl's eyes stared at him and Kosimo hissed with a tremor of fright. The Hierophant of the Air hesitated an instant longer, then abandoned his audience hall, retreating across the dais and through the curtained portal.

The Archimage of the East smiled to herself and followed at a measured walk.

Glyssa continued to thrash and kick as the Iruks carried her down a red-lit corridor away from the audience chamber. The noise of the fighting had dwindled in their ears when Amlina parted the velvet curtains of a doorway and gestured them inside.

They entered a lavish sitting room, perhaps part of Kosimo's own apartments, for the friezes on the walls and the ponderous gold statues reminded Lonn of the serd monuments the
Plover
had passed on the way to Kadavel. The Iruks stretched Glyssa out on a rug, holding down her arms and legs while Amlina straddled her.

"You must break the spell and bring her back to us," Lonn told the witch.

"I will do what I can." Amlina's fingers probed on Glyssa's forehead, then along the scalp beneath the short black hair.

Glyssa screamed horribly and tried to pull her head away.

"Silence," Amlina's voice had the tone of magical command. "Close your eyes and be still."

Glyssa whimpered, still straining to move. But finally she succumbed to Amlina's will. The look of hysteria drained from her face and her eyelids drooped. She no longer struggled to get away, only shivered in irregular weak spasms.

"Good." Amlina moved so that she knelt beside Glyssa. "Her spirit still has some strength. It's been caged, you see, its vitality siphoned off by the serd. If we had come much later it would have been starved completely. As it is, we have a chance to bring her back. I can break the mind-cage, but once that is done her mind must be reached and brought back to the surface. Otherwise it will sink into the depths and be lost. When I finish the chant call her name, speak to remind her of herself and her former life."

The witch shut her eyes and began to sing. Glyssa moved fretfully but did not resume her struggles. As Amlina's high, sweet voice recited the verses of Old Larthangan, Glyssa's expression grew calmer, until she seemed in deep repose. Lonn watched her intently, glancing away every few moments to check the door for intruders.

As Amlina's chant reached its climax Glyssa's eyes and mouth burst open as though she was trying to scream. A series of shocks convulsed her body, the Iruks gripping her limps. Then Glyssa was still again, eyes shut, complexion pale and glistening with sweat.

"Now call her," Amlina whispered. "Speak to her for her very life. "

The Iruks leaned over Glyssa and called her name in hushed, urgent whispers.

"Glyssa," Lonn said. "We are here. We have come for you at last."

"Dear Glyssa," Karrol called. "Come back to us."

"Come back to yourself," Amlina said. "The tyranny is ended. You are Glyssa again."

Presently Glyssa's eyes opened, dull and clouded. But as they glanced over the Iruks' faces they flickered with recognition.

"My klarn," she murmured. "Are you really here?"

Lonn and his mates cried out with joy. They pounded each other on the arms and embraced. They touched Glyssa's face and hair, seized her hands and kissed them fervently.

"Yes," Amlina said. "Give her your strength."

"It's been so hard to remember," Glyssa's eyes shone. "I tried to keep all of you in my mind but ... I thought I'd never see you again."

"It took us many days to track you down," Lonn answered, nearly weeping with relief. "But now it's done, and we have you back."

"I am Amlina," the witch said. "I helped your mates find you, and I rejoice that we came in time. But now all of us need your help."

"She is our ally," Draven told Glyssa.

"Do you remember coming here?" Amlina asked. "And bringing the Cloak?"

"Yes. I came on a ship. There was a storm or ... The dojuk was sunk. I remember it was the Cloak that drew the winds down from the sky and opened the ice. It was the master." A shudder of revulsion passed through her. "I hate him. I want to kill him, Lonn. "

"Kosimo is fighting a great witch," Amlina said. "We would be most fortunate if they slew each other, but I don't expect that outcome. More likely, the witch will kill him, and then come after us. We must find the Cloak before she does. Do you know where it is, Glyssa?"

Glyssa winced, groping for memory. "I came here through a secret way, steps and tunnels that lead down to the water. The Cloak was left down there, in the place where the master casts his magic."

"Can you lead us there?"

"I think so." She tried to get up. "I feel so weak."

"Rest a moment more," Amlina said, laying her palms on Glyssa's forehead. "Let this energy flow from my hands and restore you." She moved her lips silently for a few moments, uttering another charm. "Now when I tell you, your eyes will open, and you will feel strong and able to walk. Now your eyes are open."

The witch removed her hands and Glyssa blinked. She looked more herself, more vital and alert. Lonn and Karrol helped her to stand. Glyssa looked down at herself and immediately pulled the white temple robe over her head and threw it from her. She wore only a linen tunic beneath, but Lonn gave her his cape for warmth. Glyssa smiled weakly as she wrapped herself in the cape. Draven grinned and handed her a spear.

Behind the dais of the audience hall Beryl crossed a dark alcove and entered an oily-scented chamber hung with gold tapestries. Firelight writhed across the room from two braziers burning at the far end. Kosimo stood between the fires.

"You were a fool to follow me to this room. Here my enchantments are invincible."

But Beryl sensed uncertainty in his mind. "Then the advantage is yours," she said, standing motionless, mentally probing for spells and traps. "But before one of us kills the other, we might as well exchange privities. How were you able to find the Cloak and bring it here, when I could not see it?"

"I waited and prepared for a long time," the serd answered. "For almost two centuries I have watched the ebb and flow of power among the great of humankind. I remember well the day you first stole the Cloak from the West. I saw by precognition that one day it would be stolen from you in turn. I waited many years for the young witch to go to Tallyba and fulfill that vision. She has great potential, that young one."

"She will not survive long enough for it to manifest." Beryl still had not moved.

"No," Kosimo granted. "As for bringing the Cloak here, it was not terribly difficult, not for a master of serdic arts. My race perfected ensorcellments that you humans have yet to conceive."

"And yet you were defeated by humans." Beryl stepped forward.

"That defeat is about to be reversed."

Kosimo jumped aside, revealing a long oval mirror that Beryl found herself looking into. Instantly the mirror began to draw her in, sucking at her spirit with tremendous hunger. Beryl's probing had not discovered the mirror—the serd had hidden it well.

The Archimage planted her feet and resisted. A sound like a fearsome wind howled through the chamber. For an unknown length of time Beryl stood her ground, eyes fixed on the mirror, her mind struggling, partly within its illusory depths, partly still free. Kosimo stood rigid, eyes closed, augmenting the mirror's power with his will.

Then the front of Beryl's fur robe opened and a bone-hilted dagger floated out. The dagger hovered and turned, till the tip pointed away from Beryl. Then the weapon flowed across the room and crashed into the mirror, which shattered in a burst of fire and jagged pieces.

The dagger dropped to the floor. Kosimo hastily set his foot on it lest it rise up and strike him.

Beryl grinned mockingly. "Did you think to turn me into a thrall?" She moved something under her sleeve. "You've seen the quality of my black beads. Allow me to show you more of my jewelry."

She removed two of her bracelets and tossed them on the floor. Two coils of orange smoke reared up, then changed into orange serpents, their heads as high as the witch's shoulder, their fangs dribbling venom.

Kosimo tensed, fingers outstretched. Each of his hands followed the movements of one of the drog-serpents as they slithered toward him. His glance darting back and forth between the snakes, the serd did not notice Beryl's hand moving about her wrist—as if taking off a third bracelet and tossing it to the floor.

The serpents glided, closing in on their prey. Kosimo's body stood frozen, his head swinging back and forth.

One of the serpents sprang, jaws gaping.

Just as quickly, Kosimo reacted, a bolt of flame leaping from his fingertips and shearing off the serpent's head. Immediately the serd leaped back, showing an unguessed agility in his spindly form. The second serpent snapped its fangs where Kosimo's face had been. The serd responded with a second bolt of flame, slicing the serpent in two. Both pieces withered and vanished as the first decapitated snake had already done.

Kosimo released a pent breath and stared at the Archimage. "Did you think to best me with mere trinkets?"

But then the serd grimaced and clutched his wrist. Twin puncture marks had opened on his hand. Kosimo looked on in horror as a third, smaller serpent became visible, fangs embedded in his palm. The drog-serpent clung a moment longer, then dropped and vanished, its purpose done.