Bloodstone (31 page)

Grimly Dribeck speculated as to why the Temple maintained such an unspeakable reserve, when human sacrifice had long been forbidden... and how they had obtained the infants originally. Even less pleasant was consideration of the payment which the Temple would demand for their intervention. The line of thought sickened him, tainting the hope he had begun to experience. But what choice was there?

"I'm wondering what you mean to gain from this, Gerwein," he somberly conceded. "Altruism is not characteristic of the Temple, so I know you aren't helping me out of love for Selonari."

Gerwein might have been discussing the setting of a banquet table. "I'm not naive either, Dribeck. I'll expect an end to your obsessive attempts to tax the Temple, of course. Otherwise I won't demand any political concessions or promises that I know you'll renege on once the danger is past. "Let the magic of Shenan's daughters save our land from the dread fate Kane intends for us. I think the people will remember well by whose hands they were spared. And I think they will be less enthusiastic for your calculating attacks upon our return to power after this. The game, as you well know, milord, is called prestige."

"There's death in the air, and the men feel its breath," observed Dribeck dismally. "This is unlike the prelude to any battle I've ever fought."

The lord of Selonari stood at the sinking shores of Kranor-Rill as light faded. The familiar echoes of axes and shovels and the rumble of fighting men making camp were reassuring, although the usual raucous shouts seemed muffled and sober beneath the pall of unknown dread. Taking with him every man who would bear a weapon, Dribeck had begun his march south the dawn following his conference with Gerwein. Final preparations had taken little time, since he had already gathered his army to him, and the men were held at battle ready. By the close of the third day, their encampment was pitched and respectably fortified, a great wedge with apex positioned at the causeway's terminus.

"There's little joy in a battle where black sorcery and alien science struggle like giants in the dark sky and brave men become no more than scurrying ants who die unnoticed beneath their tread," Teres responded somberly. She and Dribeck sought out one another's company these days, finding solace in their companionship. An unspoken admiration had grown between the two--so different in temperament, but alike in that both were outsiders in their social order.

Teres thought of herself now as ruler of Breimen, nor did the hundred or more refugees who joined her banner dispute her leadership--although it was questionable whether her legacy was anything greater than a pile of ruins. If she lived through this battle, if Bloodstone were destroyed... then she meant to see to Breimen. But first she must try to avenge its fall.

"Our chance of victory may hinge on Kane's attacking us," Dribeck again pointed out. "Here Gerwein's sorcery may offer protection from Kane's energy blasts--at least the men are willing to gamble on it. If we have to besiege Arellarti, I don't know how much help she can give us."

He threw a worn glance over the forest camp, with its earth and timber bulwarks, lines of tents, swarming knots of soldiers. Cook fires were just starting to twinkle beneath the darkening trees. "I doubt that Kane has any reliable means to reconnoiter--much beyond knowing we're here. His toads can't mingle with the men, and I'd like to think no human has sunk low enough to spy for him. Aside from its military merit, I'm hoping this wedge formation will give him an inaccurate profile of our true strength. If we can play upon his confidence in his own power, it may be he'll decide to attack first and avoid the possibility of our projected siege wreaking havoc upon the city he's gone to such pains to restore."

"Think Kane will attack tonight?" queried Crempra, who had wandered over with Asbraln, the latter a fierce and aged eagle in battle gear that had last seen combat a decade ago.

"Reasonable to expect--if he'll attack at all," Dribeck concluded. "The longer he waits, the stronger we can build our fortifications. Besides, he's a creature of the night, and the darkness will work in favor of the Rillyti. Although I doubt they can outflank us in our position, the swamp creatures prefer stealth to direct confrontation. He planned his attack on Breimen to occur before dawn, remember."

"At night, when Ommem's power ebbs to its lowest," commented Teres. "Kane is no stranger to the occult world; it may be he thought to counter any appeal my city might have made to the shining god of Wollendan. If so, this night is the dark of the moon--the time when Kane hinted Bloodstone's power was greatest. How will your moon goddess Shenan serve you tonight?"

"Gerwein warned us that the time is not propitious, but that's beyond us. However, she still believes their magic will be potent." Dribeck looked toward the tents of the priestesses.

Teres followed his gaze. With surprising efficiency, the daughters of Shenan had reorganized the voluminous paraphernalia with which they had loaded several wagons to overturning. Their every requirement was immediately fulfilled by order of Lord Dribeck, and a small knoll had been cleared of trees for them. Soldiers labored to set up their tents and equipment, surrounded by busy feminine figures clad in varying styles from the simple tunics of acolytes to the more elegant gowns of the ranking priestesses. At the peak of the knoll, struggling workmen were hoisting the eerie metal disk to its mounting place atop a low stone altar. The altar of dark, unflawed stone had been transported from the Temple's depths--whose vaults had yielded other things, as well, that were strangers to the light of day.

Teres frowned at the pale-skinned maidens whom the priestesses quickly hustled into the tents, leading them by the manacles which linked wrists and neck. Their steps were resigned, but their blinking eyes mirrored fear. "And we declare our cause more just than Kane's!" she spat in disgust. "I wonder if our victory will be worth its cost!"

Dribeck's face was determined, although there was dismay in his eyes. "As you've said, there's little joy in this battle. Our weapons must be iniquitous if we are to avert a greater evil still."

The twilight deepened, merged into night. Cordons of sentries patrolled nervously. Nor did sleep come to the encampment, where uneasy soldiers made whispers as they honed steel. The demons of battle were stirring the night breeze with their leathery wings, and there was not a man who did not sense the building tension.

"He comes!" breathed Gerwein, her eyes glazed with concentration, and no man questioned her knowledge. "Drawn by the scent of your sorcery," mused Teres half aloud, hackles tingling at the weird spectacle which unfolded before them.

The torches flashed and flared. Rippling like pennants in the chill breeze were the priestesses' silken robes. Tents flapped like angry wings beyond the torch-lit circle. Teres shivered, not entirely from the wind, yet with battle imminent, she disdained the warm but hampering folds of her cloak. Dribeck spoke softly to Ainon, who left to attend to the lighting of bonfires erected along the fringes of Kranor-Rill.

Tied across the altar, the naked girl writhed without hope. She could not be much past her mid-teens--an innocent, frail flower nurtured in the Temple's secret halls, to be plucked at the moment her keepers judged the bloom to be ready. The fear had left her now, and she seemed to lie entranced by the priestess's rising chant. Teres tried to console herself with the thought that this girl had never really known life, but the revulsion she felt did not diminish. The girl had never uttered a cry.

Higher, more insistent, rang the incantation, now in a language Teres had never before heard. Gerwein's slim fingers dashed curious substances into the flaming brazier, which oozed bittersweet vapors that curled like mist over the priestesses' contorted dance. The girl lay still, seemingly asleep--but for the too rapid rise and fall of her breasts. Gerwein tossed a final spray of powder into the flame, then with a harsh cry drove her fist to just short of the girl's left breast, though Teres would have sworn her hand was empty. The sacrifice's eyes started wide, her mouth convulsed into a silent scream, her body strained against the fetters--and in that instant the brazier spat a shower of sparks and went out!

The metal disk had suddenly blazed luminous in that moment. A ghostly streamer of light, shining from its pale surface, fell upon the contorted sacrifice. For a second it enswathed her staring figure; a phantom shape seemed to swirl through the luminance. Softly the wraith of light withdrew from the girl, withdrew into the circle of polished metal, now glowing brightly. Gold, pale light of death. How like the moon, thought Teres in awe.

On the altar lay the lifeless husk of a girl. Gerwein's lovely face bore a cold, cruel smile of triumph, though she was perhaps a trifle shaken by her spell.

Shouts of alarm sounded from the sentries.

"Now let your sorcery protect us, if it can!" gritted Dribeck as he rushed to lead his men. A cordon of Temple guards closed a shield about the priestesses' knoll.

The effulgence of Arellarti was even brighter, Teres observed--a baleful green luminescence through the ever present mists. Like a ribbon of clotting blood, even the stones of the causeway radiated with pulsant light. Through the fog she could see hulking shapes that shambled along the uncanny roadway, dark shadows against the crimson radiance.

Warning shouts from close at hand. The flaring bonfires exposed scores of the monstrous batrachians rising from the muck and slime of the swamp. Kane had deployed his minions in a stealthy advance. Now, as they swept onto the forest earth, he brought up his main column to follow the initial surprise with crushing force.

"There are your targets!" bellowed Crempra's strident voice. "Against the light! Give it to them now!" Questing arrows hissed through the night.

Roars of pain and of rage told of the archers' accuracy, even when the darkness cloaked the bite of their shafts. Murderous swords raised, the Rillyti emerged from the swamp in great leaping strides. Arrows rattled and streaked across their gleaming armor, penetrating only with a direct hit at close range, while others lodged with crippling effect in the tough hide of exposed limbs.

"Try to hit their eyes!" advised Crempra, noting the luminous reflection of their widened pupils in the firelight. His arrow flew true to its mark and brought a Rillyti crashing to the mud, clawing at the intolerable agony that lanced through its brain.

To the bulwarks the swamp creatures rushed, oblivious of the fallen in their lust to kill. With fierce bellows they struck the barrier and vaulted over in powerful bounds. Men died beneath their alien-forged blades or answered their threat with equally deadly steel.

Quickly Crempra pulled back his archers from the overrun trenchline to give way to the heavy infantry that surged forward to halt the onrushing Rillyti. A venom-coated spear tugged at his sleeve. His heart caught in fear until he made certain his arm bore no scratch. Gingerly he cut away the tainted area of torn cloth, then hurried to reposition his archers.

From the causeway, the main bulk of the Rillyti horde was issuing into the forest. There the point of the wedge confronted them, and intense fighting raged in seesaw fashion. The archers maintained withering fire onto the lustrous roadway, taking heavy toll despite the bronze alloy armor of the amphibians. But as increasing numbers of the Rillyti gained the high ground, supported by those who had spread out through the swamp, combat along the apex of the wedge waxed fierce and bloody. Each time the batrachians appeared on the verge of overrunning the line of fortification, a fresh surge of steel and sinew would drive them back again over the red litter of death. In the howling melee, the archers were helpless, and further advance by the Rillyti threatened to push them beyond bowshot of the causeway.

Something strange and deadly strode down the causeway. A demon of green flame shimmered through the mists and struck terror in three thousand hearts with the dread promise of searing death. Arrows touched the eerie figure without halting his inexorable advance. The Rillyti roared welcome, drew away from the beleaguered encampment.

Kane had come. The Master of Bloodstone had come to destroy those who dared challenge his power. And behind him marched the main force of his inhuman army, held in reserve while his vanguard tested Dribeck's defenses.

Kane extended his left arm, and courage failed the warriors along the bulwarks. Desperately they fled the ground they had so bravely contested a moment before. A lance of destroying energy hurled itself from his flame-wreathed fist. With a thunderous concussion, the front line of Dribeck's fortifications leaped into the air, showering the night sky with a hail of smouldering fragments and baked clods of earth. Those who had not fled shrieked in final brief agony as the emerald lash fell upon them. Again the terror of ancient Earth reached out its incandescent claws to claim the souls of men in its pitiless fury.

Confident in his power, Kane stalked forward. This night he meant to crush all ordered resistance within this region--to extend his rule of fear across the conquered city-states. Once it became certain that to resist Bloodstone was to die, Kane expected to gather an army of men to replace the Rillyti, warriors whose allegiance would follow the tide of victory.

Bloodstone whispered that it was only hours from the fulfillment of its design. Only a few days had been needed to mount its energy potential to an even higher level than before commencement of the attack on Breimen. Under these conditions, even while he sensed the presence of sorcery, recognized that Dribeck's position was far stronger here than were he to besiege Arellarti, Kane in his arrogance determined to annihilate the Selonari force on its own terms. This was to be an object lesson in thefutility of resistance to Bloodstone's incalculable might.

The Selonari had thrown up hasty fortifications, which checked the Rillyti thrust for the initial moment. The Master of Bloodstone intended to obliterate the entire forest encampment with his searing blasts of energy and to loose his ravening batrachian army upon the disordered survivors. The dread lance of flame shot forth from the ring, and the jutting prow of bulwarks flared into withering destruction.