Darkness Weaves (21 page)

"It is through the Scylredi that I have been able to keep in close touch with the maneuvers of my enemies. Here, too, lies the secrets of the fortuitous disasters -which have destroyed a few of those who sought to, invade my waters, or to escape the island. It is to the Scylredi that I look for aid against Netisten Maril. With their assistance I shall be avenged in full. Not even the entire might of the Empire can stand before the power of the Scylredi, when they arise to my command!

"For although they have kept from the sight of man for centuries in that great abyss, they are not stripped of all the power that once was theirs. Not all of their undersea craft have been destroyed. They have fantastic machines, built by an alien science of a scope far beyond human comprehension. Colossal metal ships that move at tremendous speed beneath the sea, propelled by a power that is not pure magic but of a science which even they no longer fully understand. They have weapons that can burn right through the stoutest warship. Their submarine craft can lash out with fearful streams of elemental flame--controlled bolts of energy that can blast to cinders all that they strike. True, they have only a few of these seacraft, and the power that drives them is almost exhausted, but a small number of such weapons can destroy countless warships.

"And they still have a number of their great sea creatures under their command. Alongside us will fight creatures known only in the most dread legends--the Oraycha. Many tales are spread of the Oraycha, the primeval monsters of whom the octopus and squid are only puny descendants. Only a few of these gigantic beasts survive today, but whatever regions these creatures haunt are seas over which no sane man dare sail. It is no, lurid myth that an Oraycha can drag down an entire ship in its tentacles. With their alien science, the Scylredi have been laboring to produce devices that will enable the Oraycha to distinguish my ships from the enemy fleet. The Oraycha will be able to range beneath our embattled navies--to ensnare and annihilate any warship that lacks a protective talisman.

"This then is the power to which I have sworn allegiance. The Scylredi are the source of my secret strength--the power I shall wield to complete my vengeance. What do you think now, Kane? With such allies as these, can Netisten Maril stand before me? Efrel shall be Empress of a new Empire, and the Scylredi shall lend an invincible might to my rule!"

Kane had been listening intently throughout, but if he felt astonishment at anything Efrel told him, he kept his emotions hidden. His voice held no hint of amazement or uncertainty, although his thoughts were in considerable turmoil. "If the Scylredi truly come up to your expectations, then perhaps you will be Empress of the island Empire," he acceded. "But I would like to see personally what the Scylredi have to offer us, though. Obviously their powers are limited, or you would never have relied on my own efforts for your cause."

Efrel giggled. "Jealous, Kane? But I still require human warriors, as well. And you shall see the Scylredi, if you wish--if you are prepared to confront a nightmare from earth's dreaming infancy."

Kane ignored her taunt and pressed on. "But what really interests me about your secret alliance comes down to this: Why should the Scylredi aid you? These are no demons that you can command with spells and conjurations. What have you offered these creatures in return for their intercession?"

She eyed him slyly before explaining. "I told you that the Scylredi are god-like. Alorri-Zrokros even postulates that they are gods, fallen from the sky to dwell on earth. And it is natural that gods require worship. Fallen gods or fallen devils--they still dream of ancient glory. The Scylredi have speculated that through their elder sorcery and the rituals of mass worship, they will be restored to their original power. Worshipped as gods, they will become gods once more. It is evident that a god draws strength from the supernatural bonds that link the faithful to him. The Scylredi mean to absorb the psychic energies of untold thousands of neophytes.

"And so the answer to your question should be obvious. The Scylredi shall help me to fulfill my revenge, to achieve my ambition to rule as Empress--and in return I shall establish the worship of the Scylredi as the one religion of the new Empire. Efrel shall be Empress; the Scylredi shall be gods. Ah, they have told me of the rituals they will require--and they're magnificent! I shall be priestess as well as Empress. They will demand numerous human sacrifices, of course. You should see what the Scylredi can do with a living human, Kane! A few spies have already learned."

She doubled with a fit of insane laughter. "Think of it! Was ever an Empire bought more cheaply? Only for a yearly payment of a few hundred lives. It's absurdly cheap--more than that starve to death every week in the Empire. Well, how about it, Kane? You sit there so quietly. Does the bargain seem too repulsive?"

Kane smiled thinly. "I think you know enough about my past to realize that human life means nothing to me. And what manner of demons you choose to make your pact with is your own affair. My only apprehension concerns whether you can trust the Scylredi to carry through with their part of the bargain. Supernatural weapons have often proved unwieldy, I have learned."

Still tittering, Efrel rose and hobbled to the doorway. "Yes, I knew you would be the last to get cold feet over this alliance. You only complain of distrust, where sane men should feel overwhelming dread." Pausing at the stairs, she shot back, "Imagine--Kane scrupling over taking human life!" She limped on down the stairway, her maddened laughter rising back after her.

Kane sat on the window ledge for a long time after, looking out over the darkened sea. The Scylredi. There had been certain hints of such an alliance--ones he should have pursued further than he had. Those statues he had barely glimpsed by the pool beneath Dan-Legeh were one thing that had made him suspect Efrel's secret. There had been other such hints, but such an alliance had seemed too alien to be credible. Kane had feared that something unforseen might complicate matters for him--a force entering the picture that he could not control, a factor defying manipulation.

He had seen a Scylred once long ago--a long-dead one floating in the sea. Kane had recognized it primarily from the description given by Alorri-Zrokros in his ancient treatise on the prehuman races, Book of the Elders.
Death could not have made the bloated form much uglier. It had been more than half again as large as a man, and vaguely analogous to man in form. Only where legs should have been, its lower trunk sprouted six thick tentacles, and likewise from its upper trunk grew two longer tentacles in place of arms. Alorri-Zrokros claimed that these tentacles were armed with suckers that could draw the lifeblood from its victim. He had dwelled upon the creature's feeding habits with customary morbid detail. At the other end of the central trunk, where the head should be, was a short projection that was encircled near its extremity with half a dozen or more eyes. At the base of this grotesque head was a large, gaping toothless cavity that served the function vaguely of a mouth. Water was drawn in here, passed over gill bars, and jetted out from the base of the trunk. Like the octopus the creature resembled, the Scylred was capable of Jetting through the water at considerable velocity. An altogether hideous creature from the earth's infancy, and if Alorri-Zrokros could be believed, its soul was even more monstrous.

Withal, it was not this that bothered Kane--although he bore universal hatred and distrust toward all forms of gods. What now disturbed him was the realization that here was a means by which Efrel might dispose of him should the occasion arise--or more likely, a factor that would complicate his disposing of Efrel. For to remain in a secondary position was utterly alien to Kane's nature. And Kane knew that the defeat of Netisten Maril would only be the first phase of the crimson pattern fate was weaving for the days to come.

There was a thin wind blowing from the sea, carrying away some of the stench of the waterfront, but not much. The stars were high and lost beneath cloud. Enough of the moon was left to show the cobbled streets.

Imel led the way through the moonlit streets. His stride was quick and nervous. "I thought I'd see if you could do something with him," he said. "You're his friend. You know his moods."

"Some of them, I guess," Arbas grunted, limping to keep pace with the renegade.

"I thought I ought to do something," Imel muttered. "Does he get like this very often?"

Arbas shrugged. "I don't really know him that well. But I've seen him like this a few times. He gets this way when the mood is on him. Doesn't sleep, starts smoking too much opium, washes it down with too much brandy. Any other man would be out cold for a week, but Kane..."

"Here," said Imel, indicating the waterfront dive. There was no sign over the door, but the smell of sour wine and stale vomit and urine was familiar to the assassin. He cautiously pushed past the filthy leather curtain and peered into the darkened interior. A man's body lay across the threshold, smashed and crumpled. Arbas stepped over it.

"Kane?" he called softly.

The figure who reclined across the tavern bar lifted his head. "Come on in, Arbas," Kane muttered.

The assassin entered the poorly lit common room. Imel followed uneasily. There was another broken body lying amidst the wreckage of a table.

"Looks like you've got the place all to yourself," Arbas observed.

"Almost," Kane agreed. He lifted the bottle to his lips, drank, and tossed it to Arbas. A thin-faced whore handed him another from behind the bar. Her eyes darted anxiously from the newcomers' faces to Kane's.

"The tavern keeper left," Kane said. "My friend here has been telling me her life story. It's very interesting."

"What are you doing?" Arbas asked casually, passing the bottle to Imel.

"I was looking for a quiet place to get drunk." The girl's face was abnormally pallid beneath its rouge. Arbas glanced down and saw a third body sprawled behind the bar at her feet.

"Some quiet place," the assassin commented.

"It got a lot quieter after a while," Kane told him.

Imel sighed and slumped onto a bench. His men had reported the brawl to him. By then Kane had been recognized, and by that time there was no longer reason to interfere. While it might be permissible for a general to have a drink with the rank and file, the renegade was uncertain as to the propriety of brawling with them.

Kane frowned at Imel's troubled face. "Drink up," he invited. "You look upset. Want to borrow my girl friend?"

The idea brought a harsh laugh from Kane. He rolled off the bar, gathered a fresh bottle in each huge fist, and made his way across the littered room. He was still laughing as he slid into a chair at a corner table.

Arbas nodded to Imel, and the two drew up chairs beside Kane. The whore watched uncertainly from behind the dirty bar, eyeing the doorway.

"Kane, you're getting too old for this," Arbas said sarcastically.

Kane's laughter rumbled in his chest, around the mouth of the upturned bottle. "Arbas," said Kane, "you ever make it with a one-legged lady?"

The assassin shook his head and tilted back his own bottle.

"Imel." Kane turned to the Thovnosian. "You ever made it with a one-legged lady?"

Imel took a long pull from his bottle, hoping grimly that there were no other ears within hearing. The brandy made the sordid room seem to glow, and suddenly he began to laugh with Kane.

"Time was," Kane began, pushing his other bottle toward his companions. "Time was, when an Empress took you to her bed, it was something worth fighting for. Go out the next day, spill your gifts all over the field of battle--what the hell, let's die for the kisses of her imperial highness. Why not? Men die for stupider causes. But this..."

Arbas was laughing now as well. The whore slipped from behind the bar and fled into the night. No one paid her heed.

"Imel," Kane muttered, "your girl friend got away"

"She was too thin," the Thovnosian allowed, working on his second bottle.

"All those poor old heroes of legend," Kane mourned. "Gone out and died for their lady's love. All we three got between us is a one-legged madwoman, and I can't even give her away."

"Got to be a better reason than that for getting killed," Imel agreed.

"Well, what's your reason?" Kane asked.

"Best reason of all," the renegade answered with drunken candour. "I'm fighting for myself. Things work out right--by the time this is all over, I'll be one of the greatest lords in the new Empire. Lands and riches, power and prestige. No more putting up with sneers from the likes of Oxfors Alremas. My blood is as good as the proudest of them--all I need is the wealth and the power."

"If you live to enjoy it," Arbas said cheerfully. He returned from the bar with a fresh round of heavy green bottles.

"I threw my lot in with the winning side," Imel rejoined. "I know the risks. Every goal worth striving for has its price."

"And the trick is to avoid paying the price," the assassin grinned.

Imel toasted him. "I'll risk it. So what was there worth living for otherwise? But what about you, Arbas? You with your boasts of having studied at the great university at Nostoblet. Why does a would-be philosopher leave the dusty libraries and lecture halls to sell his blade for bloodstained gold?"

"Same reason you offer, Imel," Arbas drawled. "I'm just a bit more selective about whom I kill than your average soldier of fortune. Lucrative work, though it doesn't carry the glory of battlefield slaughter."

"Then what are you doing here with Kane?"

"Well, why not? I'm getting paid." "That's no answer."

"It's as good as any. Hell, does any man really control his fate? Does he ever really know why he does what he does? We act out the dramas that the gods place us in, follow the web of our fates--and what matter the reasons we rationalize to explain our lives and our actions?"

Imel belched. "Horment! You should have stayed at the university. But what about you, Kane? Can you explain why you're here? Or are you going to spout philosophical nonsense like Arbas here?"