Prisoner of the Horned Helmet (25 page)

SNAKE FINDERS

A
wagon carrying five wooden barrels rolled quietly through the shadows cast by the torches lighting Bahaara’s Street of Cats. The shops were shuttered and abandoned. Refuse cluttered the ground. The panting and whine of caged animals somewhere within were punctuated by an occasional screech. The wagon wound up through the mesa forming the body of the city toward the back of the Temple of Dreams.

It carried the serpent priest, Schraak, and his assistants disguised as nomad traders. They had left the Land of Smoking Skies shortly after Cobra, but their passage had been impeded. The flickering light illuminated the white-eyed panic on their faces.

The reason was the small crowd of ragged, filthy beggars trailing them. Their eyes were distended by cheap stimulants, and they carried torches, poked long, forked sticks at the wagon. They were Snake Finders, and they were gaining on the wagon.

The priests knew that the Cult of the Butterfly Goddess outlawed all reptiles, and that fanatic Snake Finders were licensed to carry out the low, repugnant and dangerous work of destroying reptiles. They were abundant in Bahaara, particularly in times of unrest. So the priests had taken great pains to scent themselves with camel dung. But just as the light revealed their features, their rising fear brought forth the fetid scent of the reptile.

They shuddered as the fanatics broke into a run, wailing and chanting incantations.

Schraak hissed at the other two. “The barrels must be delivered. Give them your bodies! Now!”

His assistants sickened as they looked back at the ragged pack swarming towards them. But when Schraak slowed the wagon, they obediently jumped off. Schraak whipped the horses smartly, and the wagon lurched into the shadows ahead as the two serpent men drew their swords and faced their plunging tormentors.

Seeing the priests’ metal, the Snake Finders pulled up short. Their forked sticks trembled as if alive, then pulled them forward, magnetizing their drug mad eyes. Their victims took one step back, then panicked and fled. The Snake Finders, howling, scampered after them, leaping walls, and easily cornering them. They threw them to the ground and stripped their flailing bodies. At the first sight of scales, they squealed with triumph and crushed their skulls with rocks. Then they skinned them.

With their scaly prizes spread on poles, several of the fanatics paraded through the mostly deserted city while the rest resumed the chase, hunting the wagon. They found it parked in a dark secluded alcove behind the Temple of Dreams. It was empty. The driver was gone and so were the barrels.

Deep under the ground, just slightly east of where the empty wagon was parked, the five barrels were lined up on a stone balcony. They were open, and the dark fluids within them bubbled and steamed, with a strong fishy odor that clung to the walls of Dang-Ling’s laboratory. Schraak and Baak were shoveling red-hot rocks from a huge fire and dropping them into the bubbling concoction of snake venom, snake blood, and the entrails of tiny mollusks.

TRANSFUSION

R
obin and the five maidens abducted from Weaver were strapped naked to inclined benches lined up below the row of barrels. Thin glass tubes had been inserted in their necks and attached to spigots at the base of a wide trough positioned under the barrels. Similar tubes descended from their ankles to a gutter hole in the floor. The girls were drugged, only semiconscious.

Cobra moved along the line of girls tracing the signs and marks drawn on their foreheads and murmuring incantations. Reaching Dang-Ling, who stood diligently beside Robin, she bestowed a condescending smile on him. “I commend you. The addition of the five maidens will increase our chances of success greatly. It is fortunate I brought enough blood.”

“Your highness has demonstrated again her foresight and leadership.” Dang-Ling bowed low. “I am honored to assist the Queen of Serpents.”

“If you enjoy watching as much as you appear to,” she winked, “you are quite welcome to continue.” Ignoring the high priest’s reaction, she appraised Robin’s sleeping body, and her eyes hardened. “She sleeps very deeply.”

“A mild drug,” Dang-Ling purred, petting Robin possessively. “Her little body has been overtaxed these last few days. I thought she should look as fresh as possible when he sees her.” His lips were prim, but his eyes glimmered.

Cobra addressed his eyes. “You are a weak fool, priest. We must revive her!” Her arm and hand uncoiled, and she struck Robin hard across the face, bringing a moan. “Wake the others! Screaming is absolutely essential!”

Dang-Ling paled, and his eyes narrowed. “First I must inquire about the necessity of screaming in this particular experiment. Is it essential to the process or to you?”

Cobra glared at him, her fury rising. “To both, you simpering lecher.”

The high priest’s smile returned with the slightest trace of mockery. His eyes met Cobra’s, and held them with surprising ease. Cobra glanced warily about the laboratory, then hissed sarcastically, “If you have anymore professional comments, ask them now, priest. Once we begin there will be no interruptions.”

“Actually, I do have one question,” Dang-Ling said flatly. “Would it not be easier to simply enslave each of them with the bite of the Pawder snake?”

“An excellent suggestion.” With regal grace Cobra reached inside her emerald robe, and brought forth a small rose-pink snake. Dang-Ling flushed.

Bestowing a tender kiss on the snake’s head, she said, “The Pawder’s bite is an essential part of the procedure. But merely to enslave their wills would not suffice. Their nature itself must be transformed, and the transfusion and signs will accomplish that. Not completely. Just enough to allow them to develop a very strong venom which no human can withstand, not even the Dark One.”

“Of course,” Dang-Ling said hurriedly. “But if you will excuse my impertinence, I think we must consider the possibility that this particular girl,” he stroked Robin’s thigh, “might serve our Master more effectively without alteration.”

Cobra’s high cheeks turned crimson. Her fist unclenched and the Pawder snake wound its way up her arm. She said archly, “Your interruptions tire me, priest. Pay attention, and you will understand. All the Barbarian has to do is see this girl. That alone will relax his guard and allow her, or one of the others, to strike. And only one bite will leave him helpless. Now do you understand?”

“Perfectly.” Dang-Ling’s inflection was so florid it would have humbled an orchid. “Your jealousy and arrogance have blinded you! And it is apparent, if the Master is to be served as he deserves to be, that I must conduct this procedure myself.”

Before Cobra, snarling with outrage, could reply, the harsh sounds of scraping rocks filled the room. Four huge stones were receding from the wall; four temple guards appeared in the openings pointing loaded crossbows at the Queen of Serpents.

Cobra whirled on Dang-Ling. “You go too far, priest!”

Dang-Ling said soothingly, “Do not be offended. I have not betrayed you. These four are devoted servants of the Master of Darkness, and will do you no harm unless it is necessary. So do not tempt them. Being Kitzakks, they are unusually fond of killing reptiles.”

“They would not dare. I am the Master’s ‘chosen one’.”

“They will dare, sorceress, whatever I dare. Because they understand that what I do, I do in our holy Master’s best interest. Now, I must ask you to remember what you have forgotten in your jealousy. If the girl’s nature is altered, if she is tainted in the slightest way, the power of the horned helmet will discover it… and the Death Dealer will destroy her before she is even close enough for him to smell the enticing fragrance of her flesh.”

The bones in the Queen of Serpent’s face seemed to pulsate under her creamy flesh.

The high priest delicately removed the glass tube from Robin’s throat. A drop of blood splashed on her breast and trickled down the curved slope. He wiped it off fastidiously, saying, “It is only in her perfection that she will be able to subdue the helmet’s power and distract him long enough for these maidens, transformed by your formula, to strike.”

Cobra’s body vibrated under the gold and silver plates, and began to shimmer with opalescent light, fusing her voluptuous flesh and translucent metal. Her breasts were smooth heaving globes of soft gold, her stomach a silver slope of carnal invitation. Her pupils were pools of black magnetism rimmed by irises of radiating gold. The rose cheeks drew in and hollowed. As her scarlet lips parted, they revealed a single drop of glistening blood trickling freely down her alabaster chin.

The temple guards trembled, eyes white with terror.

Dang-Ling observed all this with surprising equanimity, then, bowing to the Queen of Serpents, he responded, “Thank you for this spectacular display of the generous and unequaled gifts our Master of Darkness has bestowed upon you. It is an eloquent reminder of the sacrifices we all owe him.”

He fastidiously removed the rose-pink snake from her arm and stroked it. “Now, if you will restore your appearance so my aides can function, we will begin the work.”

Cobra’s magnificent body wavered. Then, like a tide receding into the ocean, her body drew into itself, ebbing and flowing back to a less intimidating though still impressive presence that glared impotently at the high priest, as if she had had her fangs pulled.

The guards carried Robin out of the laboratory as the maidens were revived. Then Dang-Ling himself applied the enslaving snakebite to each girl’s foot, and the screaming began.

The process proceeded at a slow dripping pace for several hours. Then, distressingly, a blood clot formed in the neck of one girl. Before they could remove the tube, her skin ballooned and exploded, splattering the room with flesh and blood, and she was dead. After that there were no more delays.

ESCAPE

T
he wagon, racing across the flat desert, sent up a tail of dust that boiled with bright golds and yellows in the midday sunshine. Half a mile behind and barely visible through the dust, a crowd of mounted soldiers chased it. Far off to the right, miragelike in the wavering heat, was a thin crescent of reds, the Kitzakk Army. Ahead were the ruins of Chela Kong.

A Cytherian temple maiden drove. Three others sprawled on the bed, clutching the side boards desperately as the wagon bounced and rattled. Robin, still unconscious, tumbled about on a layer of hay between them. A large stack of hay was piled in a corner.

One of the girls, a small, chubby old friend of Robin, crawled over to her. She uncorked a tiny blue jar, and, pressing it against Robin’s teeth, poured a clear amber liquid into her mouth. She threw the jar away, then waited anxiously. Robin coughed and sat up abruptly. Her eyes were wide but her body, still weak, was trembling.

“Where am I?”

“We’ve escaped!” As she spoke, she pounded small fists together excitedly. “Robin, we’ve escaped!”

“Escaped!” Robin gasped. She rolled onto her hands and knees and through the tumbling dust saw the riders chasing them. She pivoted to the front. A dark collection of black boulders lay ahead.

The chubby girl pointed a plump finger at the rocks shouting, “Our people are there! There in the rocks!”

Robin gasped incredulously, “But how… how did we…”

The girl hugged her as her words spilled out. “They were taking us somewhere. They didn’t tell us why. They thought we were all drugged, like you were. But two of us woke up, and when the soldiers guarding us fell behind, that gave us our chance. We killed the driver and ran.” She uncovered the stack of hay revealing the large body of a man crumpled under it. His neck was slit.

Robin recoiled in horror.

“We used his own knife.” The girl picked a knife out of the hay. It was wet and red.

Robin, still wobbly, turned to the other girls. They nodded happily. The chubby girl, pressing close to Robin, placed her lips next to her ear. “Don’t worry. We’ll make it. The Death Dealer will save us.”

Realization, then hope, nourished Robin’s shaken body. She smiled tentatively, and the girl, staying close, said, “It’s true! He’s in those rocks.”

She pointed ahead at Chela Kong. Robin, fighting for balance, shuffled to the front of the wagon, and stood there holding onto the driver’s shoulders. The wind whipped her hair like a red-gold flag. Feeling the pressure of Robin’s hands, the girl’s lips parted slightly, enough to expose the tips of her tiny fangs.

A raven-haired girl at the rear of the wagon took hold of an iron bar hidden under the hay, and fed it out a hole in the side board. She gathered her weight behind it, and shoved hard.

The iron bar plunged between the spokes of the rear wheel. Spokes snapped with rapid cracks, and the wheel caved in. The wagon banged on the ground and spun, girls screaming and floundering. The horses reared and halted, throwing the driver back into the wagon bed among the other girls. The living pile thrashed about hysterically as its pursuers descended fast.

Terrified, Robin fought free and looked ahead at the dark rocks. A startled joy shone on her tear-stained face.

A horse and rider were charging down Chela Kong toward them. The rider was big and powerful, and wore a horned helmet.

Robin and the girls tumbled out of the crippled wagon, and raced toward him.

The Skulls thundered up to the wagon, and, finding it empty, plunged after the girls. But, when it was clear that the Barbarian would reach them first, they slowed down and held their distance, watching the girls scatter toward the Death Dealer.

He reined up and dropped to the ground lightly, strode toward Robin. Robin, her face glowing, stumbled and raced ahead of the other girls. Undaunted, as if she were unaware of the dark massive figure of brutal destruction which was the Death Dealer, and could see only Gath. She leapt into his arms. His pawlike hands clasped her like a small soft ball and held her against his chest.

A wagon load of jubilant Grillards arrived with Bone driving and Brown John sitting beside him. Dirken and ten Grillard strongmen were crowded in the bed. They scrambled out as Brown John hollered joyously, “My dear child, you’ll never know… there are simply no words…” He was laughing before he finished.

The maidens hesitated five feet short of their target, realizing it was covered with metal except for its arms and lower legs.

Robin lifted her head off Gath’s shoulder, and gazed into his eyes. “I’m all right,” she whispered. “It’s all right now.”

A glint of light showed behind his eyes, a gentle warmth. She smiled and slid to the ground, still within his embrace. Turning to the maidens, she beckoned them forward. “Come on. Don’t be afraid.”

They giggled, and, as they approached Gath smiling, their mouths came open slightly.

Brown John and his group were still ten feet off when the old man saw their fangs and bolted forward. “Look out, Gath!”

Too late. The freshly fashioned servants of the Lord of Death crowded around Gath and Robin, lunging at his arms and legs. His axe came up. It caught the chubby one in the chest, stopping her fangs inches short of his arm. The impact lifted her three feet off the ground, and she screamed, spitting blood, as the others buried their fangs in his forearms and ankles.

Robin shrieked. Gath jerked around toward her, ignoring the girls. They still had their fangs in him when Bone and Dirken arrived. They ripped them off, threw them on the ground, cut their throats, then stepped back in revulsion.

The girls were hissing, coiling and writhing on the bloody sand as if their bodies had only spines, their legs and arms no bones.

With a gasp, Robin folded up and dropped unconscious into Gath’s arms. He touched her hair gently, then he and the Grillards looked up.

A half circle of eighteen Skulls, two squads, were forty feet off and closing on them slowly.

Gath placed Robin in Brown John’s arms, “Take care of her.”

He swung up into his saddle and bolted toward the Skulls’ line.

Brown John shouted, “No! It’s a trap!”

Gath kept riding, and Brown John, groaning, turned on Bone. “Hurry! Get the army!”

Bone started running, waving his arms and shouting, toward the rocks, as Brown John carried Robin onto the wagon. Dirken and the Grillards, already moving to aid their leader, suddenly stopped.

Gath of Baal sat on his horse strangely motionless in the their leader, suddenly stopped.

Gath of Baal sat on his horse strangely motionless in the middle of the circling Skulls. They made no move to attack.

Brown John, holding the unconscious Robin in his arms, watched uncertainly, then glanced down at the fangs on the dead girls and slumped, groaning with dismay. Slowly his eyes lifted and reluctantly watched.

Gath sank wearily in his saddle, then looked down at his hand holding his axe. His fingers trembled, involuntarily released the handle, and it fell to the ground.

Brown John and the Grillards shuddered.

Gath looked down at his weapon as if it were a long, long distance away. He leaned slowly out of his saddle until he fell and joined it on the ground.