Bloodstone (36 page)

"Can the sea destroy Bloodstone?" demanded Dribeck with desperate interest.

"Who can say?" returned Gerwein. "The tides are as powerful a force as our race knows. Perhaps the sea can conquer Bloodstone--or at least so devastate its walls of living stone that the power lattice will be shattered and we can win a delay from our doom. If nothing more, Bloodstone must concentrate its power to counter our threat, and in that interval you may have some chance to strike a blow for its glowing heart."

"Better than I dared hope for," Dribeck observed bleakly. "Cast your spells with the greatest art you command, Gerwein! I'll hold my attack until we learn what fate wills."

"What the goddess wills," Gerwein corrected, with a flash of her old assurance. Rising to leave, she reached for the book.

"May I examine this?" Dribeck asked. "I'm not altogether unlearned in the Old Tongue."

The priestess shrugged. "As you wish, milord. But I warn you, those pages hold only despair, and there's enough of that in the air we breathe."

Teres continued to sit in brooding silence for a long while after Gerwein's departure. Dribeck spared little time to wonder at her unwonted mood. His limping cousin he sent to oversee preparations for the final battle. His army was hideously mauled, such of it as remained, and it would be a worn and battered band who fought for mankind's last hope. Thinking to glean some undiscovered thread of knowledge--a buried secret that would command the tide of victory--the Selonari lord bent his attention to the moldering manuscript. With difficulty he translated the antique script.

So engrossed was he that he paid scant mind to Teres's sudden and pointless question: "Do you think Kane can read Old Tongue?"

Dribeck looked up in bewilderment. "If any man within a thousand miles of here could, Kane is probably that one," he replied abstractly. "I begin to believe Old Tongue may be his native language!"

Teres did not enlarge, and Dribeck was immediately back to his task. He failed to notice when she rose with set jaw and strode from the tent.

But he was aware of her when she returned, for he had shoved the tome aside in irreverent frustration to stare gloomily at the blue skies and green forestland without. She had saddled Gwellines and led the restless gray stallion into his field of vision. His eyes grew strange as he recognized her undaunted figure, now proud beneath a shirt of light mail.

The doorway framed her as she entered, the fire of her braid softening to gold when it passed from sunlight to shadow. Her blue eyes looked straight into his, their reckless light steady with decision. "I'm taking that book to Kane," she stated.

Dribeck's face showed no comprehension.

"I've thought it all through," she explained simply. "Kane is the keystone to the power of Bloodstone. If Kane dies, the crystal is dormant once more. And Kane has the power to destroy Bloodstone, if he wills. At least he told me he could.

"Kane doesn't realize the doom that lies in the crystal's evil soul, though he knows Bloodstone withholds secrets from him. Bloodstone has betrayed him. Kane would never have revived this alien horror had he known its true nature; he believes the crystal is no more than an invincible weapon that he can wield as he pleases. So did we all think until today.

"I intend to reveal to Kane the nightmarish truth which underlies his mad dream. This ancient book will bear proof, if he doubts my word. Bloodstone's servant turned on his crystal master once before, and brought ruin to its dark scheme. I figure Kane will not be pleased to learn he's been this creature's fool.

"If he won't--or can't--destroy the crystal perhaps I can get a knife between his ribs," she finished grimly. Dribeck frowned, logic and emotion both howling at once in his tumbling thoughts. "In the first place, you'd be killed before you reached Arellarti. In the second place, Kane himself will kill you on sight. You may recall that your interference foundered a meticulously crafted plot, that Kane had only murder in his heart for you at your sudden parting."

"I'll chance both," Teres replied levelly. "What few Rillyti he has left are probably pulled back to defend the walls; the other dangers of the swamp I'll have to risk. Kane will know I'm coming as soon as I tread the causeway, and if I'm alone, I think he'll grant me safe passage--out of curiosity, if for no other reason. And perhaps he'll see me for other reasons, as well. I think his actions when I escaped arose from his sudden murderous rage. We... meant much to one another... for a breath of time. He remembers."

"And does Kane still mean something to you?" grated Dribeck, surprised to know jealousy.

"I don't know," Teres mumbled. "For all the evil he's done, I still don't know. You yourself seem to admire him still... I don't know."

He realized distantly that this was true. "Gerwevn has evoked the ancient tides. The Western Sea will rush upon Kranor-Rill and engulf Arellarti. You'd die with the rest."

"Gerwein's sorcery won't prevail over Bloodstone," she snorted. "I know its power because I've seen Arellarti. The witch's spells are false hope and wasted time. Even were they not in vain, I'd still chance it. Kane is the fulcrum of victory, and I'm the only one who can reach him."

I can't let emotion twist my thoughts at this point, reflected Dribeck, but he said, "I can't let you take the risk."

"Look, damn it!" Teres snarled in flashing anger. "I'm not asking you to let me do anything! I'm telling you what my intentions are, and then I'm acting on it! Kindly remember that I'm not one of your captains or gentry! My city may be in ruins, my army may be but a handful, but I now rule Breimen, and my status concerning you is that of an ally on equal terms! Well, as such I've notified you of my battle plans, as courtesy dictates, and I don't need your leave to follow my own strategy!"

"All right, I'll concede your right to direct your actions as you judge best," grumbled Dribeck. "It's rather that--"

"That I'm a woman and you're a man--and a man protects and gives orders, and a woman obeys and gives thanks for her champion's protection! Well, you know where you can shove that idea! I'm taking that book to Kane, and if I die, then I'll die my own master! I'll trust to my own good sword arm for protection--and be better served!"

Which stung perhaps worst of all. "Climb off my back, Teres, damn it! I'm not going to stop you! I won't even deny that your plan is as sound a strategy as any that's left to us. I just wanted to be certain you know the odds you're taking on. Start when you're ready, and good luck to you!"

Still angry, Teres snatched up the palimpsest and stalked from the pavilion. She secured it within her saddlebag, then swung onto the stallion, still not meeting Dribeck's eye.

"Good luck, Teres!" he called, this time meaning it. But he could not tell whether she heard him. Gwellines snorted and shied as his hooves crossed the torn, muddy earth which surrounded the causeway's terminus. Uneasy, Teres noticed that the crimson aura of the igneous stones was a visible haze even by day light. She spoke soothingly to the stallion, stroked his pulsing neck, and when she touched spur to his flank Gwellines struck hooves upon the unnatural pavement. As he cantered forward into the rotting land, tiny sparks danced eerily where iron scored the glassy surface.

Like a streak of molten light, the roadway bore into the depths of Kranor-Rill. For miles it stretched, an unwavering line that lifted above the fetid mire and labyrinthine hillocks of vegetation. Even now Teres found spirit to marvel at this masterwork of _supernormal engineering. Her sword lay ready for whatever danger might challenge her intrusion, but no springing threat was visible. There was a strange quietness overhanging the swamp. Within the tangles of leprous undergrowth nothing stirred. Not even a serpent basked upon the causeway, and the expected swarms of malicious insects had vanished. It was as if the venomous denizens of Kranor-Rill had withdrawn into the deeper reaches of the swamp, had retreated from the alien evil that radiated from the lustrous stones.

As she rode, her anger cooled and her thoughts returned to Lord Dribeck. Teres regretted that their final words had been scathing; the Selonari lord had become as close a friend as there remained to her, and it pained her that this bitter memory would be their last one.

No! She would not resign herself to death.

The swamp lay all about her, writhing, mist-cloaked desolation. The stark severity of the roadway soon grew to monotony, and with the stagnant fog swallowing the horizons, she quickly lost all conception of time and distance. She seemed to ride endlessly through a glowing tunnel in the blood-tinged mist, while half-seen and sinister shapes loomed and crouched beyond the uncanny silence that encircled her. Haunting her was the knowledge of insurmountable danger that tightened like a hangman's noose with every crash of Gwellines's hooves, lurked half-formed in her imagination, gnawing with acid-venomed fangs on the strained fibers of her nerves. An unbearable sensation of menace hung like a deepening chill upon the charged atmosphere.

And even before its familiar walls jutted through the dank vapor, Teres could see the nimbus light of serpentine evil that reached out from Arellarti.

The monolithic bronze portal stood open, dwarfing the giant figure who slouched, arms folded, against an obelisk. His arrogant smile greeted her, but it seemed to her the insolent strength of his massive frame had weathered gaunt, haggard, eroded by some nameless and vampirish force.

"So you've come back, she-wolf," spoke Kane in a tired voice.

For a space she had no words, forgot the hazily rehearsed phrases she had considered during her ride. Kane had been aware of her coming since she first spurred her mount onto the causeway. With mixed emotions he had allowed her to approach. The rage he had known at. Teres's betrayal had been fleeting, a wound he suppressed by the memory of her companionship. For in Kane's world, hate was as constant a force as the numberless sands that drifted across a desert. After so long an existence within its shifting dunes, he little felt the stinging, and winds which remolded the changeless waste. Love was rare, elusive. Seldom did Kane chance upon love in his blighted wandering; fewer still were the times his hand had closed upon its subtle mystery.

He wanted Teres; that was enough. But while he might dismiss his own anger toward her, Kane understood that the same might not be so for the girl. Teres had repudiated him once before, and since that moment Kane had only given her further cause to hate him. That her return to him now was of uncertain portent Kane bitterly realized. Yet he welcomed Teres, while in his mind Bloodstone's insinuating voice urged him to destroy her.

"I had wondered if you might return," Kane went on. "Have you then reconsidered my offer to you? Two armies that would have opposed me have been destroyed, and the desperate sorceries of Shenan's daughters will not shield Lord Dribeck after tonight. Or do you come on his behalf? Dribeck always impressed me as a man of intelligence. If he recognizes the hopelessness of his position, I'll be willing to come to terms with Selonari. As you can see, few of my toads returned from last night's skirmish. But then, it's been my plan all along to replace my ugly servitors with a human army. It would be advantageous for us all if Dribeck decides to throw his lot in with me. I've no wish to devastate my future properties any further."

Teres slid from her saddle while Kane talked. There was a glint of irony to his eyes that made her wonder. Only a few of his Rillyti warriors were in sight, so that she pondered a sudden thrust with her blade. Kane seemed to know her thoughts, by the sardonic mockery of his aspect; he remembered that she had balked at killing him once before when he lay helpless, and he dared her now to strike. Teres was not certain she could... despite the doom that impended. She must try first to reason with Kane; if that failed... then, if steel could slay him, her hand must make the attempt.

"Dribeck still means to fight you, Kane," she announced confidently. "If you believe last night's battle destroyed either our military strength or our resolve to crush this alien horror you serve, then you'll soon learn your error. Nor do I return to be consort to your iniquity. I've come to warn you, Kane--warn you of the evil your ill-conceived ambition has set free."

"A dialogue we've had often enough," he pointed out sarcastically.

"In the past you argued with a half-knowledge that was a trap deadlier than pure lies! Your egotistic confidence blinded you to the truth of your situation. What do you really know of Bloodstone, other than the fragmented guesses of a madman's writings and the veiled lies Bloodstone whispers to you?"

Her hands shook as she withdrew the palimpsest, for her fingers held the most potent weapon left, for mankind's defense. "You won't believe me, I know. But maybe you'll recognize the truth from this book!" She offered it to him. His expression was one of dubious curiosity.

"Kane, the Krelran weren't masters of the crystal! They were Bloodstone's slaves!"

Kill her! Destroy her and her book of lies!

Kane winced as the command thundered through his skull. The ring on his fist tingled, burned, throbbed with the lethal intensity of a coiled serpent. And perhaps because of the desperate rage that screamed at him, he hesitated no longer. From her hand he tore the ancient volume. He glanced at it cursorily, then concentrated over the nearly effaced script.

Night was stealing over the forest. Dribeck returned from the Temple's encampment, his faced lined and ashen from what he had seen there. The weirdly illumined knoll was a phantasmagoria of writhing figures and wailing incantation. Fear crouched ominously upon its slopes, and the rising power of Gerwein's spell swirled through the dying twilight like black lightning. The cries of those who lay stretched upon Shenan's altar were like the mournful call of a lost night bird, chilling in despair, more a dirge than a moan of fear. Dribeck shuddered, not liking to think of that spreading mound of pale, cold forms. "However this turns out," he remarked to Crempra, "Gerwein will not profit from her magic. Did you see the faces of the men? Only their fear of Bloodstone keeps them from putting the entire pack of those witches to the sword! If we live to return, Selonari will shun the Temple for many a year. All this foul sorcery, whether Bloodstone's or Shenan's, has sickened the land. Gerwein will find no grateful hearts after this night--only bellies cold with loathing!"