Darkness Weaves (9 page)

In addition to its larger land masses, this region is dotted with a vast number of tiny islands. Islands which provided countless harbors and bases for fishermen--or for pirates. Yes, there were a great many pirates here in those troubled years. For the advantages of inexhaustible places of refuge, ineffectual retaliation by the authorities, and heavy interisland commerce made this region a true paradise for their kind.

But such pirates were never much more than a dangerous nuisance--for like the islands, they were weak and unorganized. They were but jackals, stealthy killers who preyed upon the helpless and the unwary. A single well-armed escort would send the jackals scurrying to their lairs.

Then there came into the islands a stranger from the Southern Lands. He was a ruthless and deadly fighter in combat, as well as a genius at naval strategy and tactics. In a few years he built up an unassailable pirate stronghold on the rocky island of Montes. His rivals he either absorbed or destroyed. Under his formidable command was a gigantic pirate fleet established--a bloody, deadly sword that first swept the seas of commerce and soon threatened the very ports themselves.

Arrogant squadrons of the pirate fleet prowled the seas at will, attacking any ships that they encountered. Spies in every port kept them informed of the merchants' shipments and of their desperate countermeasures. No secrets escaped the pirates. No convoy was too well guarded for them to dare. Even the largest warships of the islands' rulers fell prey to them, and it invited certain disaster for any vessel to venture away from its harbor.

Eventually the pirates had the sea to themselves, for not even a fishing boat risked leaving its port. The sea-wolves had driven away their prey. It seemed that the pirates must now disband and seek more prosperous sea lanes elsewhere, but their leader had more ambitious designs than this. With the seas barren of commerce, he drew his fleet together and turned his might against the cities of the coast. Now he struck at the very sources of the riches he had plundered upon the sea.

Out of the night, his ravening fleet would sail into some sleeping port. A short battle would wipe out all organized resistance, and the city would be his to plunder. Then with ruthless efficiency was the stricken seaport utterly despoiled of its wealth. His pirate hordes would overflow the streets with bloodshed and rapine--taking whatever they wanted in booty and women. When the city was sacked, they made a pyre of their carnage and sailed into a dawn reddened from its blazing ruin.

And the man who commanded the pirates--the man whose evil genius had forged this awesome weapon of destruction--he was named Kane.

But the success of the pirates was ultimately to prove their undoing. The warring island lords at last realized that they were in extreme danger from Kane's pirate empire. Forgetting their private quarrels, they followed their enemy's example and united themselves under one overlord--the house of Pellin, chosen because of its prestige and power. The new Empire gathered together its scattered forces and pieced together a fleet powerful enough to challenge the pirates. After long and inconclusive months of skirmishes and chase, the Imperial fleet under the command of Netisten Ehbuhr of Thovnos attacked Kane on the sea before his pirate stronghold on Montes. The fighting was vicious and the issue long in doubt--for both admirals were brilliant commanders, and it was evident that the fate of the islands would be decided by this desperate battle. Throughout the day the struggle raged across the sea, but as the evening approached, the vastly greater numbers of ships and fighting men that the Empire could draw upon swung the balance of battle.

Realizing he was too badly outnumbered to continue the fight on the sea, Kane withdrew the shattered remains of his fleet into the harbor of his cliff-top fortress. The siege that followed wore on for hard and bloody days, but the catapults and trebuchets of the Empire gradually smashed down the stronghold's defenses. At a fearsome cost in lives, Netisten Ehbuhr forced his way into the devastated citadel, and in one final deadly battle the grim survivors of the pirate horde were slain.

The battle was a costly one for the new Empire as well, and many noble lives met red doom at Montes--including the principal lords of the house of Pellin. Thus was Netisten Ehbuhr able to usurp control of the new Empire for himself and his line--for there were none to oppose the hero of Montes among the surviving aristocracy. And so the usurper line of Netisten has sat upon the Imperial throne for all but the infancy of the Empire' existence--stealing the throne that rightly belongs to Pellin!

And a most curious thing was discovered after the last of the pirates had fallen. Although many soldiers had seen Kane fighting alongside his men up until the very end of the final battle, his body was never discovered. No trace of Kane was ever found, even though the victors searched meticulously through the blackened ruins and crimson heaps of the slain for his body. Some maintained that Kane's men had hidden his corpse to save it from dishonor. Others laughed at this conceit and argued that the pirate lord must have escaped through some secret tunnel, slipped past their lines and sailed away from another part of the island.

It was strange, to be sure. For years thereafter, those who dwelt beside the sea still felt the gnawing fear that one night Kane and his black fleet would return to wreak bloody vengeance for his defeat at Montes. Even today his name is a curse--an anathema of evil, terror, and rapine.

And so the dread name of Kane the pirate lord has merged into the dark legends of our people. A demonic figure was this Kane of old. His past was shrouded in rumors and myth even in his lifetime, and his death could never be proven. He flashed through our troubled history like some all-destroying comet, appearing suddenly from the blackness of night and as abruptly vanishing to regions unimagined: Men told that Kane was a giant in stature, more powerful than ten strong men. In battle no man could stand before him, for he fought with a sword in either hand--wielding easily weapons that another warrior could scarcely lift. His hair was red as blood, and he feasted on the still-beating hearts of his enemies. His eyes were the eyes of Death himself, and they cast a blue flame that could shrivel the souls of his victims. His only delight was in rapine and slaughter, and after each victory his banquet halls echoed with the tortured screams of captive maidens.

Of course, these legends grew wilder and more luridly exaggerated with each retelling. But histories and accounts written at that time speak of the dread pirate lord with superstitious awe, and their authors credit him with almost superhuman attributes. And though they curse and vilify Kane as the most evil man of the age, they nonetheless record with grudging admiration his indomitable prowess in battle.

This much is commonplace--old tales that all of us have heard as children. But I have powers at my command beyond the frightened dreams of the common folk. You have heard their whispers. Know then that I hold power over the demons of darkness, whose wisdom is not blinded by the cringing frailties of the mortal mind. On countless nights have I summoned forth these creatures of an alien plane--commanded them to obey my will, listened as they whispered to me knowledge that has been eons--hidden from the minds of man. And they have told me many strange secrets.

It was of a certain demon from beyond our stars that I demanded to be told the name of the general who would surely lead my forces to victory in the coming war. My lovely demon that night told me that the triumph or failure of my vengeance hung balanced upon forces so powerful as to defy control or even prediction by a creature of its plane. But as I pressed the demon to obey my commands to the full limit of its powers, it was forced to name to me the man who could best aid me in my revenge.

The name that the demon snarled was Kane.

I cursed the creature then for its mockery. And cringing from my fury, it fawned and cackled to me of certain secrets that no other man in all our Empire has ever known. The demon told me of the fate of the pirate lord, Kane, after he fled the defeat at Montes.

Those who knew the pirate's cunning had guessed well. For this Kane of old did not die at Montes, but had escaped the massacre to sail away into the West with the last of his reavers. Across the limitless Western Sea Kane wandered, to spread his curse through many a strange land upon its far shores. And as the years passed and his enemies grew old, this Kane mysteriously remained young. For by means of a curse to which my demon gave only vague hints, Kane the pirate lord had escaped age as well as death.

Thus while new generations trod the inescapable path from womb to grave, Kane lived on to wander the earth. In the Empire his dark fame became legend, and from legend melted into myth. But more incredible than any myth--none of us has ever dreamt that our ancient enemy yet stalked the land. More than two centuries have crept past; and none ever guessed Kane's secret. And now--so my demon swore to me--from out of the East, Kane has returned to our shores.

It was of you the demon whispered, Kane! You are the man my demon named as the general I must have to achieve my vengeance! And by oaths it dared not perjure, the demon swore to me that in Nostoblet I would find the same man who brought terror and death to this region two centuries ago.

And thus, Kane, I know beyond doubt that it is the Kane of dread legend who stands before me now!

If Kane was surprised, he gave no sign of unease. His only acknowledgment was a slight nod and a trace of a cold smile.

"You carry your years well, Kane. You seem unchanged from the descriptions these old volumes give of you."

"Rather colorful descriptions, from your words," Kane commented sardonically.

"Then you are that same Kane of whom so many fearsome legends tell!"

"You have already told me this yourself."

Efrel laughed at her cleverness. But there was no mirth in her sudden command: "Gravter! Kill him!"

Startled by the unexpected death sentence from beyond the veiled doorway, Kane whirled from his seat to meet the sudden danger. All the while his mistress had spoken to her guest, the huge eunuch had stood motionless in the shadow at his post by the door. At her command Gravter tore the heavy-bladed parang from its sheath--leaping for Kane's back as Efrel's words yet hung on the air. His thick-upped mouth gaped wide in a silent shout of murder-lust.

Cursing his own weaponless state, Kane had just enough time to recognize the danger--then Gravter was upon him. The colossus of rubbery flesh was a blur as he charged, his parang swinging down in a drawing are. With quickness that belied a man of his bulk, Kane slipped past the slashing blade and kicked the eunuch's legs from under him. It took Gravter a fraction of a second to regain his balance--time enough for Kane to snatch up a heavy silver candlestick.

Eyeing the candlestick, Gravter moved confidently. Warily the two combatants circled in a fighting crouch, poised to strike or retreat at any instant. The eunuch feinted, and Kane swung the candlestick clumsily to meet his threat. Eyes derisively crinkled, Gravter opened his mouth and uttered a bizarre coughing hiss. Within his slobbering jaws remained only the gnarled and blackened stump of his tongue. Again he made a feint, which Kane, distracted by the mutilated mouth, again parried awkwardly.

Certain of his adversary now, Gravter swung his curved blade for Kane's belly. But Kane was no longer there. With bewildering speed he sidestepped the duped eunuch's stroke and lashed out cobra-quick with the candlestick. The silver club clashed against the hilt of the heavy knife, ripping it from Gravter's benumbed fist.

With the hideous croak of a tongueless man seeking to voice his rage, the- eunuch grappled with Kane--who foolhardily flung the badly bent candlestick after Gravter's parang. Although a castrado, Gravter was powerfully muscled, and he had been trained to perfection for his duties as bodyguard. Many times the towering giant had broken men with his bare hands for the amusement of his mistress. Massively built, a skillful wrestler--any ordinary man was doomed once caught in Gravter's blubbery grasp. But as the eunuch wrestled now with Kane, he encountered a man far more powerful than any he had been pitted against. Sweat trickled on Gravter's near-naked body. Desperately he sought to crush his adversary beneath his 350 pounds of muscle and bone and rubbery bulk.

A statue would have been easier to wrestle down than the iron-muscled fighter Gravter now contended against. Displaying a master's knowledge of wrestling holds, Kane broke each grapple Gravter attempted--and only the eunuch's oily flesh enabled him to wriggle free from Kane's clawing grasp. Strips of skin tore away, as the two surged together. A sudden twist, and Kane wrenched Gravter's arm behind his back in an irresistible vise. Gravter struggled helplessly, one arm rendered useless, as Kane bore him to the floor. A muffled snap. Gravter convulsed. Grimly Kane broke the eunuch's other arm, and his hopeless groan of animal pain was the loudest sound uttered throughout the tense struggle. Ignoring the grotesque flailing of the castrado's twisted arms, Kane seized Gravter's fat throat in his mighty left hand and slowly strangled him.

Contemptuously tossing the corpse aside, Kane came to his feet and moved toward the curtain--his bloodlust thoroughly aroused, his eyes blazing pools of blue hell.

Efrel's insane laughter greeted him. "Easy! Softly now! You have just proven your identity to me, Kane! It is said in the legends that your hands are your deadliest weapon--they called you Kane the Strangler, along with many other lurid names. Peace now! I only wished to test the old tales for their validity. I have no use for a legend whose prowess has been exaggerated out of all proportion--no matter if he is seemingly deathless."

Kane smiled humorlessly, his mood as dangerous as an enraged tiger's. "Well, your curiosity is satisfied. You know who I am. So now let's have a look at you!"

He ripped aside the veil...

...and looked into horror.

Efrel lay tittering on a couch of costly silks and precious furs--their luxurious beauty utterly defiled by the hideousness that lounged upon them. The mistress of Dan-Legeh was a maimed, broken caricature of a woman--evil malignancy taken material form. A black aura of vengeful malice exuded from this twisted monstrosity, made all the more loathsome by her jewels and gown of green silk.