Darkness Weaves (17 page)

Kane stood in what appeared to be a cavern, stretching endlessly far beneath the earth. Jagged stalactites hung like black clouds from the cavern roof a mile above; about him the horizon vanished over a smoking plain of shattered rock and angry lava pits. In this nightmare vision of Hell, Kane was not alone. Dark creatures of blighted beauty stood around him--bizarre demons with leathery wings, and beautiful faces that glowed with evil wisdom. They wheeled about Kane in attitudes half of menace, part curiosity. Kane spoke earnestly to one who seemed to be their leader--a tall demonic figure of perfect beauty and consummate evil, whose eyes shone like yellow suns.

Kane rolled on the floor of a fantastic temple, struggling with another man before its smoking altar. Kane's eyes were wild with murder-lust, as he wrestled there on the stones. His powerful hands were locked about his opponent's throat--who now flailed only weakly at Kane's grinning face. The livid face of the man he strangled bore a striking resemblance to Kane's own primitive features.

The pictures flashed through Efrel's mind at a bewildering speed--taking shape, then dissolving, almost faster than she could recognize each scene. It was a whirlpool of images that spun past on and on--some only an instant's glimpse of Kane's face, others complete tableaux that lasted for perhaps a minute. The demon's grating voice reached her ears through the phantasmagoria--while Efrel sought to comprehend the frozen moments of Kane's incredible saga as they burst from the vault of eternity.

"Two centuries--they are nothing to Kane. Years are only flickering moments to a man who has seen ages roll past him, empires rise and crumble, mankind emerge from infancy, and the elder races pass into darkness. You have badly underestimated Kane--as you can see now, Efrel. He is not, as you had supposed, a mere pirate lord who has been kept living past his time by a freak of fate. No, Efrel? Pirate, thief, beggar, king, sorcerer, warrior, scholar, general, poet, assassin--his roles have been myriad. This man who measures centuries like years has been many things in his endless wandering.

"Kane was one of the first true men--born into a hostile world of strange ancient beings. In this dawn world of humanity, Kane defied the insane god who had created his race--an experiment that had turned out far from the creator's expectations. This demented elder god dabbled at creating a race of mindless creatures whose only existence would be to amuse and delight him. He almost succeeded, until Kane rebelled against this stifling paradise and spurred the young race to independent will. He killed his own brother, who sought to oppose his heresy, thus bringing violent death as well as rebellion to the infant mankind. Disgusted at the failure of his depraved design, the god abandoned his creation. And for his act of defiance, Kane was cursed with immortality--doomed to roam this world under the shadow of violence and death. His blighted wandering will cease only when Kane himself can be destroyed by the violence to which he first gave expression. And to distinguish Kane from the rest of mankind whom he has renounced are his hellish eyes--killer's eyes--the Mark of Kane!

"For centuries he has wandered from place to place, and wherever he lingers, he brings death and destruction with him. He is a harbinger of death--a lord of chaos. To tear down, to kill and destroy is his very nature. For was it not Kane who first introduced murder to a newborn race? This Kane, Efrel, is the man you have chosen to league yourself with.

"To be sure, Kane is still a man--and a steel blade through Kane's heart will kill him as dead as any other man. But yet, Kane is not quite human. Natural death is closed to him, and his body has not aged an hour from the inception of the curse. Injuries quickly heal, to leave his body as it was at the moment of that curse. Only through violence can death claim him, and Kane has so far proved too strong for those who have sought to destroy him. For violence and death are the proper element of this lord of chaos, and herein he is master.

"But no man can live for centuries and remain altogether human. His mind is filled with the wisdom and experiences of centuries. He has seen things of which others can only dream; he has tasted knowledge that would drive sanity from the mind of another man. And he is not sane as your world reckons sanity. Kane's thoughts are not like those of another man, for he sees all things in the perspective of centuries. Lives of others are flashing motes of light. Time stands still for him, and everything you hold to be permanent Kane considers no more than ever-changing phenomena.
All that remains permanent for Kane is his own existence, and to make this interminable existence endurable is all that drives him on. His motives are unguessable, his actions unthinkable to human minds--for he lives in a world of flux in which he himself is the only stationary force.

"This then is he whom you have presumed to use to gain your revenge. And certainly Kane can accomplish all that you wish--I did not lie to you when I advised you to seek him out. Kane is your weapon; manipulate him if you can. Only remember that no pentagram holds safely this demon you have evoked. Beware, Efrel--not even the queen of night dares kindle her fire with the comet!"

With a final mocking laugh, the demon vanished. The darkness of infinity burst into a final vortex of images, then collapsed like a cosmic bubble. The chamber lay as before, altered only by the empty pentagram.

Shaken by the creature's revelations, Efrel sat alone in the darkened chamber, thinking over what she had learned and cursing the unreliability of demonic aid. Uneasily, she recalled an ancestor who had asked to be showered with wealth--and was buried under an avalanche of gold.

At length she smiled confidently. After all, Kane had never encountered Efrel in his wandering. She whispered to the darkness, "So, then! This knowledge I shall not fear, for it shall be my strength. As I know Kane's secret, thus shall it be easier to deal with him, when I know that I must. Let Kane first conquer an Empire for me--then there will be time to test Kane's immortality!"

Kane drew on his battle gear, with movements sure and rapid from long practice. Although only just awakened, he moved about in the cold dawn-lit chamber as if he had been up for hours. Adjusting his mail hauberk, Kane wondered to himself--how many times had he done this before? How many battles had the dawn watched him prepare to fight? Not so many that the familiar chill in his guts ever failed to appear. Musing whether this last-minute uncertainty would ever leave him, he buckled on his greaves.

Over his shoulder, Kane called to Efrel, "When is it estimated that the Imperial fleet will reach us? And do we know its exact strength?"

It seemed to him that Efrel watched him with a strange intensity from her seat in a darkened corner of the bedchamber. "My information tells me their fleet left at dawn five days ago," the sorceress replied, "sailing under good winds until yesterday's calm. So, assuming they will push on at their best speed to take us by surprise, the Imperial forces should enter our waters sometime between late morning and early tomorrow. As to their fleet, my informant counted twenty-four first-line warships--eleven of them triremes."

"Is Netisten Maril commanding them?" Kane inquired, fitting a greave over his other boot. Above the greaves, trousers of heavy leather ran from high boot tops to protect knee and thigh in the interval below the mail skirts of his hauberk.

"No. My spies tell me the Emperor has finally made peace with his nephew, Lages, and is sending him instead. Knowing Maril, he's being cautious in his old age--or likely he hopes that Lages will destroy both himself and my fleet. At any rate, he only now has received word of my conspiracy--so he's trying to hit us quickly before my plans can reach fruition. Hence the relatively small fleet."

Kane grunted and buckled his two-handed broadsword across his back. For a moment, he considered leaving it in favor of a shorter blade for the close fighting--when a short, chopping blade had an advantage in the press of bodies. Still, the broadsword had a nice balance, and he felt confident his arm could swing it without tiring. Its greater reach might prove useful, he decided.

Kane continued, "Are you certain that this is the full extent of their attack? This could be just the vanguard of a larger fleet. Try to draw us out and..."

"No. This one fleet is all Maril has sent. It would take him weeks to mobilize the entire Imperial navy, of course. Anyway, my source assured me that there are no other warships moving against Pellin at the moment."

"Where the hell's Alremas?" muttered Kane, selecting a long dagger, flat-bladed and weighted for throwing. "Your source seems amazingly sure of himself. Will his head roll if he's made an error, I wonder? Who is this mysterious informant, anyway--another one of your demons?"

"Not a demon." Efrel smirked at his ignorance. "But creatures of this plane--creatures who dwell in hidden places of this world, whose secrets few humans have fathomed. They watch our foolish wars, unsuspected by forgetful mankind. Dare you guess? I assure you, Kane, my information comes from creatures as alien to mankind as any demon from the outer dimensions!"

She paused enticingly. "But I will tell you more of this at another time. Efrel does not share her secrets needlessly."

Imel burst in, out of breath. Busily the renegade fretted with the fastenings of his magnificent cuirass. He winced at the thought of how the crimson lacquer the gold tracery would look by the end of the day, but at least he knew he would cut an imposing figure--victor or corpse.

"Have all the officers been alerted?" snapped Kane, taking his anger at Efrel out on Imel.

"Yes. I've seen to that personally."

"And the men?"

"The trumpeters have sounded the call to arms in every barracks, and the fleet has acknowledged. The marines will be ready to board in an hour. Meanwhile, we've managed to arouse the entire city. Things are moving in good order, all things considered."

Kane scowled as Imel fidgeted with his cuirass. "I hope you can swim with that thing on--you'll never get it off in the water. All right--see that everything moves with all possible dispatch. Lages and the Imperial fleet may be here in a matter of hours, and I want to have every available ship manned and ready to meet them. So get to it and stop preening yourself! And tell Alremas to get his ass up here, if you see him!"

"Yes, milord!" saluted Imel. He wheeled smartly from the chamber, almost colliding with Arbas. The assassin sprang agilely aside and entered the room cursing to himself.

"Battle alert already, Kane?" Arbas queried. "Thought we were supposed to have more time. Did that damned spy screw things up?"

"It seems he did. But things couldn't have gone on like this much longer. Fortunately, Maril hasn't sent the entire Imperial fleet, but it's still going to be touch and go. I'll want you with me on the Ara-Teving--I'd like someone at my back I can trust. In the meantime check around on how preparations are going. Your pal, Imel, will be glad for any help you can give him, but mostly let me know where there's any problem."

As Arbas left, Kane turned to Efrel. "Now we'll see how well I was able to get your navy kicked into shape in the past weeks. And don't worry about a court martial if my leadership turns out to have been ineffective. But to return to my earlier questions. You tell me that your information on Maril's fleet has come from these inhuman allies you keep hinting about. That you should keep them a mystery from your general seems pointless to me. That's your affair, though. In any case, I hope you've called for their aid against Lages--we can use whatever supernatural powers you command."

Efrel ignored his prodding. "You'll have to fight this battle completely on your own, Kane. As you know, the Imperial fleet will be protected against all commonplace sorceries. And the time is not right for me to call upon those forces to which I've often alluded. Otherwise I'd never have needed you, would I?"

Kane started to argue further, but at that moment Oxfors Alremas leisurely entered the chamber. "Well, you managed to take your sweet time getting here!" Kane growled.

Alremas gave him an angry glare. "I'm not accustomed to being ordered around like a common soldier. And don't send that renegade parvenu calling for me next time, either! I may be forced to act as second-in-command to you for the moment, but don't forget that you only usurp the position that I--"

He caught sight of Efrel and checked himself. "Good morning, my Queen," he greeted her calmly.

Efrel raised herself. "And good morning to you, Oxfors Alremas." She hobbled to the door. "I have things to do myself now, so I'll take leave of you, Kane. I'm sure Alremas will give you his full cooperation. Won't you, Alremas?" She smiled at him with serpentine menace, then limped for the stair.

All the rebellious spirits seemed drained from Alremas as he dazedly turned to Kane.

"Now then," began Kane, "if I may have your gracious attention, there's a battle to be fought. Lages is commanding a fleet of some twenty-four warships that will reach here in a matter of hours. Almost half of these are triremes, and all of them are first-class fighting ships. As you know, we haven't dared to mass our own forces for the danger of discovery, so all we can mobilize at this moment are five triremes and seven other real warships. Add to this about twenty-six converted merchants, barges, and smaller craft--and we're left with a damn small fleet to take on the Imperials. Also Efrel tells me she can't help out at this time with whatever secret powers she makes boast to control.

"So we're going to have a close fight of it, and we'll need every available man and ship. And I want them ready as soon as possible! I don't intend for Lages to catch us in the harbor. We'll put out and wait for him on the open sea, where we can count on enough room to maneuver. If this patchwork navy has just followed through with the program I've drilled into it, we should be able to give Lages a more dangerous game than he had thought to play.

"We've planned this out before to the last detail, so you understand what you're to do. Now by Lord Tloluvin's red eyes, get busy and see that my plans are carried out! Our personal quarrel can wait until Thovnosten is taken. I'll see you on board the Kelkin in an hour for final orders. That's all."