Darkness Weaves (8 page)

Kane handed the telescope to Arbas. He doubted that they would again catch sight of pursuing sails.

It was late at night, and all aboard ship slept soundly, when the seaman on watch saw standing at the rail a dark figure in a hooded cloak. Glad for the companionship on this lonely night, he joined him there in silence. The other's face was hidden in the shadow of his hood, so the watch was uncertain as to the tall stranger's identity. He pondered little over the mystery as he leaned on the rail, looking out over the nighted ocean.

A strong breeze was sending the ship knifing over the foam-flecked black waves, rippling water that coldly reflected the pale light of the gibbous moon above. Looking up, the sailor saw only a few stars, and those gleamed evilly--like cats' eyes in the firelight. For the heavens were obscured by heavy clouds. Strange clouds--racing across the skies in the night wind, and forming fantastic patterns as they passed over the dead-white moon. Weird, titanic figures that writhed grotesquely, as if possessed with life--contorting ominously about the few leering stars and watched over by an insane moon.

"Look at the skies!" exclaimed the seaman in wonder. "Why do the clouds roll about so wildly?"

"They are gods in darkness," came the rasping reply. "And they weave the lattice of man's fate from the infinite shades of cosmic darkness. You see their shadows now--for the forces of evil are gathering in celebration of the coming days."

The words seemed cracked and distorted, echoing across eons of time and space. The seaman started at these eldritch tones, and looked around at the speaker. There was no one beside him at the rail.

Approached from its northern coast, Pellin was a dark, forbidding island. Its cliffs were sheer columns of black basalt, broken and eroded by the minds and pounding surf. Beyond the headland, the soil was thin and infertile. Trees grew sparse and stunted along the cliff, and farther inland black and gnarled trunks struggled above a forest of vines, and underbrush.

At intervals could be seen barren spots where even this vegetation refused to take root. From these wastelands strange piles of basalt gleamed darkly in. the sun--weird masses of stone too regular to be called the work of nature, too unthinkably ancient to be the work of man. Cyclopean ruins that had brooded over the sea for lonely centuries.

To the southern side of the island lay the wide harbor of Prisarte, main city of the island and seat of Efrel's power. The harbor was well protected, with fortifications guarding the narrow straits that opened into its large bay, now filled with many ships as Efrel prepared for war. The bay itself was surrounded by dry docks and shipbuilding yards, warehouses and barracks, unlovely structures of timber and basalt, with a few lavishly constructed palaces of the nobility easily discernible.

But dominating the entire view was Dan-Legeh, black fortress of Prisarte--the looming ancestral castle of the Pellin blood since time immemorial. Dan-Legeh was a bizarre megalithic structure, whose towering walls were strangely reminiscent of the ancient ruins that haunted the desolate regions of the island. Various sections of the fortress had obviously been annexed to the original over the years. One glance might notice a tower that seemed somehow out of place; another look might reveal a wall of one construction awkwardly joined to another wall of different masonry. The additions were ancient themselves, relics of attempts to make Dan-Legeh more acceptable for human usage. They looked discordant, ajar with the original. Legend told that the fortress had stood here before man first came to the island, but Pellin was a land that abounded with such myths.

Dan-Legeh was an ominous hulking mass, silhouetted against the sunset as Kane sailed into the harbor of Prisarte. A thin wind was blowing, and the city lay under the long shadow of its fortress. Dusk had fallen by the time Kane and his associates touched shore to meet the armed escort there awaiting them. The twilight grew deeper as they approached Dan-Legeh, riding along the narrow gloomy streets to the clanking of accouterments and the deceptive flicker of torchlight. Night closed over them when they finally stood before the mighty drawbridge and barbicans that guarded the main entrance to the citadel.

An officer stepped forward to meet them as they entered Dan-Legeh--a powerful nobleman from his extravagant attire and splendid accouterments. He was tall and slender of build--with the pale, handsome features and glowing black hair of the Pellinite aristocracy. His slenderness was that of a cat--silk-smooth muscles and perfect coordination. A man beautiful and deadly as the black panther. His eyes were as expressionless as a cat's as he came toward them.

"Congratulations, Imel," he said by way of greeting, "on fulfillment of a most difficult mission. I knew our confidence was well placed. Well done."

He went on crisply, "You, then, must be Kane." He hesitated over the name, as one does in repeating an obscenity in polite company.
The two men regarded one another in cool appraisal for a moment. Kane instantly sensed a deep feeling of hatred and rivalry on the part of the Pellinite. His rigid stance and haughty mien made it clear that he had been opposed to Kane's presence in Pellin since Imel's mission had been planned. Only his mistress's command and a sense of noblesse oblige barred him from overt hostility. Kane found ironic amusement in that the first to welcome him to Pellin should be a deadly enemy whom he had never before met.

The Pellinite lord looked at him with barely restrained contempt. Their eyes met, and he hastily glanced away. His manner became more cautious--calculating.

"I am Oxfors Alremas," he announced. "My will is here subservient to none but that of Efrel." He paused to let this sink in, then recollecting himself, he went on unconvincingly: "I welcome you to Pellin and to Dan-Legeh. There will be dinner served for you presently. First, though, let me guide you to your quarters. I suspect you will need to wash away the salt of your voyage. More suitable garments await you there, should you care to dress in accordance with your new position."

Biting his lip pensively, Imel watched Kane and Arbas leave with Alremas. Then, shaking his head as if to clear it, he turned to the remaining soldiers and ordered them back to their barracks. As for himself, a change to better clothes was in order as well, certainly. And than to the banquet Alremas had mentioned.

Moving away, Imel thought of wine, laughter, and the roguish company of the court ladies. He felt curiously relieved that Kane was no longer his responsibility.

Kane found his quarters to be of truly imperial splendour. His taste for luxury was entranced by the costly furs, silks, and tapestries that covered the spacious rooms. Gracing the chambers throughout were many expensive and beautiful statues, ornamental pieces and objets d'art that complemented the exquisitely done furnishings. And there was a fine sunken pool for bathing, in which Kane found pleasure with the lovely slave girl sent to him as a personal servant.

Dinner was similarly magnificent. The banquet was served in a gigantic firelit great hall, with countless dishes of roasted meat and cups of foaming ale or wine carried all about by scampering serving wenches. The great hall was filled with almost two hundred guests--for the most part, nobility and officers. Loud talk and laughter rose from the long wooden tables to the high vaulted ceiling.
But it seemed to Kane that the laughter was a little thin and strained; their voices held a nervous quality not wholly hidden. Moreover, the shadows in the great hall were somehow too deep. More than once his eyes caught quick traces of movement from the shadowy curtains. And throughout the meal his keen senses were aware of some hidden surveillance--one of almost inhuman intensity.

Although its place was set, the master seat of the head table stood vacant.

Kane sat at the head table with Oxfors Alremas on one side and Imel on the other. Arbas was several places down--the Pellinites were uncertain of his status, but assumed he was of some importance since he had come with Kane. Conversation with the others at the table was guarded and kept to matters of commonplace. So Kane bided his time, waiting for things to develop. Of Efrel there was still no sign.

As the meal drew to a close Alremas turned to Kane, who was just emptying his tankard. "Now that you have had a chance to recover somewhat from your journey, I'm to take you to Efrel."

Kane nodded impassively and rose to follow him. Alremas led him through a bewildering progression of stone stairways and long, winding passageways. The interior of the fortress was far more extensive than outward appearances indicated. Again Kane sensed that much of the walls and stairways were alien to the original external construction--perhaps additions made after the original portions had collapsed with age. Always the outside wall could be distinguished by its cyclopean architecture--megalithic blocks of basalt cunningly fitted. To raise such a wall would have demanded an engineering genius of a degree unknown in this age.

At length they stopped before a heavy door of iron-studded oak. Alremas knocked loudly with his dagger hilt, and the door was opened by a huge slave. The obese servant Kane recognized as the typical eunuch bodyguard of a lady's private chambers. What was not typical was that this man stood close to seven feet in stature, and his massive form hinted of considerable strength under the rubbery blanket of fat. A parang of formidable length hung in a sheath at his belt. His face was without expression.

"Leave your weapons with the eunuch," growled Alremas. He gave Kane a glowering look and strode away down the shadowy passageway.

Crossing the threshold, Kane entered a spacious anteroom--boudoir seemed an inappropriate term for such a chamber. The room was brightly lit and decorated in a bizarre fashion. It bore an obvious feminine touch in its furnishings, but there were other objects of a sinister, diabolical nature--weird paintings and bits of statuary, strangely bound volumes, unusual pieces of apparatus and alchemical impedimenta, exotic incenses and unfamiliar scents. From somewhere Kane sensed an indefinable aura of evil. It was a macabre hybrid of a sorcerer's study and a lady's boudoir.

At one end of the room was a curtained doorway. The curtain was only a thin veil, and no light shone behind it. A person watching from the room beyond would be able to observe occurrences on the other side, while he himself remained invisible.

Not particularly relishing the situation, Kane sat down and watched the curtain. He had not long to wait.

"So, then. You are Kane." The low voice from beyond the veil was an eerie one. Its accents were beautiful and feminine, but somehow distorted and maimed. It was as if the speaker had difficulty forming the words in her throat--as if the speaker were struggling to articulate a rage beyond sane expression. "And you are Efrel?" Kane inquired.
Her answer was a hateful titter. "Yes-and no! I was Efrel. I suppose convenience dictates that I still be called by this name. But I am not Efrel. Efrel is dead. Two years dead. But I am dead--and I am Efrel! Or was Efrel, since Efrel is dead. So where does that leave us, Kane? It doesn't matter. Yes, do call me Efrel. It will do for now.

"But the dead do not always die! Beware, Netisten Maril, of the dead that yet live!" The last was a maddened shriek. Silence followed as Efrel fought to control her passion.

She began again. "Yes, I am Efrel. And by now Imel should have told you of my past--and something about your place in my plans."

Kane nodded. "Imel told me that you intend to avenge yourself upon Netisten Maril, and to reestablish Pellin as the center of power in the Empire. According to him, I was summoned to command your naval forces in the coming war. At this point, however, it isn't at all clear to me why you don't rely on one of your own generals for this. Oxfors Alremas seems definitely to feel the position of command should be his. "

Again laughter. "Poor Alremas. Dear Alremas. He was always faithful to me--in bed and in battle. I think he has assumed all the while that he should hold the reins of power in my new Empire--and leave my pretty hands for more delicate pursuits. It was cruel of me to indulge his conceit, don't you think? I believe he hates you for usurping the position he had taken for granted. Poor faithful Alremas.

"He comes of proud blood, though, and I'm afraid his jealousy may now detract from his usefulness. And, of course, I couldn't forgive him that transgress. But Alremas couldn't manage this task, anyway. He's better at roles that suit his feline cunning--intrigue rather than outright war. No, he couldn't be my general. Enough of Alremas. You will be given command over him, as well as command of the rest of my forces."

Alremas might have further thoughts on that, mused Kane. He continued, "But neither can I understand why you should choose me to command your rebellion--for that matter, how did you know of me? Granted, I have enjoyed some fame as a general in several campaigns within the continent east of your islands. But I have only recently come this far into the western reaches of Lartroxia. I wasn't aware that any tales were told of me in these distant regions."

"Are you so sure of this, Kane?" Efrel's voice was edged with mordant mockery. "No. You know why I have summoned you. I have summoned you, Kane--evoked you as I might a demon. The people do not lie when they say I am a sorceress. It is true that I have delved deeply into the mysteries of the black arts, of the ancient gods who have not yet entirely forgotten their home of old...

"But of this you will know more later. For now it pleases me to entertain you with a story. A tale which you already know well--or the demon who whispered it to me is a liar."

My tale goes back over two centuries, to days when Thovnos and Pellin were but two of the many disunited islands in this region. Tresli, Josten, Fisitia, Parwi, Raconos, Quarnora, and all the other lesser islands--unstable independent realms and holdings. Petty kingdoms weakened and impoverished from recurrent internecine wars between the islands.