Skull Gate (23 page)

She bit her lip. It seemed the memories were not completely exorcised after all, nor the pain. It was true. In her country only women studied the secret ways, and only men were permitted the use of weapons. She had violated that law, taken up the sword, lost her family and her name for her disobedience.

She let out a long sigh and dismissed the past. For the present there were more immediate problems, and Onokratos was still talking.

“...the Chondites were even less cooperative. I had to sneak over their border. They promptly expelled me when they discovered I'd milked one of the neophyte sorcerers for every bit of information money could extract from him."

She shook her head impatiently. “The plan, wizard. Explain your plan."

Onokratos paced around the triangle. Suddenly, he avoided looking at her. A brooding suspicion began to grow in her; a slow, heavy tension began to wring her muscles.

At last, he spoke. “I had to discuss the premise with Gel. His perceptions are naturally much sharper than ours, and he had a direct psychic contact with the dagger."

“Hold it.” She grasped the blade's hilt protectively, eyes narrowed. “If this brilliant scheme involves Demonfang, forget it."

His features hardened to a cruelty that startled her. His voice rasped. “If you want help for that precious little bitch below us, you'll do as I say!"

She bit back a sharp retort. Nothing would be gained by arguing until she knew what he had in mind. But Demonfang was hers. No one wielded it but her, and woe to anyone who tried to take it by force. She leaned against the wall, resting her hand casually on the dagger's butt, prepared to listen.

“It will take all your courage,” he said smugly, folding hands into his sleeves, “and more. You actually gave me the idea when you pointed out that none of us, not even Gel, possessed the power to challenge the thousand-named one.” He beamed suddenly, obviously pleased with himself, and resumed his pacing around the triangle. “What we need then is an alliance with a first-order power."

Her jaw dropped. “You're insane,” she said simply.

“Gel agrees.” He thrust a bony finger at the sheathed dagger. “That most amazing artifact provides a means of gaining such an ally.” His smile flickered, faded, returned. “Or at least of getting to the negotiating table."

She repressed a shudder as the old man unveiled the true horror of his plan. The dagger's screaming had been the clue, he told her. The sound came not from the dagger, but through it. Gel confirmed that. So he believed, and the demon agreed, that Demonfang might actually become a gateway.

Her throat was dry. “A gateway to where?"

His smile vanished utterly. “To hell,” he answered, “where all souls spend eternity.” Then, with caustic bitterness, he added, “Except Kalynda, who writhes in Gath's evil web."

“Or Aki, whom you condemned to the same fate.” They both fell silent, thoughtful. She considered Aki's soul, food for the spider god's gross appetites. She squeezed her eyes shut to expel the image. “You're suggesting a journey into hell?"

“We must strike a bargain with Orchos, lord of the dead,” he affirmed. “That god has been cheated of two souls who never will enlarge his realm unless he aids us. And he is as jealous, as hungry and insatiable as the lord of chaos."

A heavy knock resounded on the door. Onokratos crossed the chamber, opened it, and admitted Gel, Kimon, and Tras Sur'tian, admonishing them to move carefully and not disturb the silver dust outlining the triangle.

The Korkyran was tired, but surly. He glanced around the room disapprovingly, wrinkled his nose at the incense. When his gaze fell on Kimon he gritted his teeth. She could feel his hatred for the younger man like a tangible force. Fortunately, Gel stood between them to prevent trouble.

He faced her across the triangle, the shadows of the candlelight masking his features as his dark eyes reflected their glow. “I caught the horses,” he reported stonily, as if by assuming a formal attitude he could ignore the trappings of Onokratos's sanctum sanctorum. She knew how the elements of conjuration frightened him and all Korkyrans. Their belief in an indifferent One God was as much an insulation against the unsettling realities of a magical universe as it was a true conviction of faith.

He mastered his fear magnificently. “But not that big black of yours,” he continued. “He's out there, though, strutting as though he ruled the countryside."

Kimon interrupted. “It's bright and sunny outside,” he declared a trifle too cheerily, betraying his own unease. He, too, had been exposed to more than he could readily comprehend in the last few days. “Why not open the shutters and blow out these smoky candles. It smells like the whore-goddess's temple."

She felt pity for both men. “Hush, Kimon,” she ordered gently. The demon closed the door, then barred it with a silver bar. As he turned back, his eyes roamed over her again in that way that gave her gooseflesh. With all five of them present, the chamber felt as close as a tomb. She sucked her lower lip, hoping the analogy didn't prove prophetic.

“Samidar?"

She found both her comrades looking at her, seeking reassurance. They were out of place here, plainly uncomfortable. And suddenly, the atmosphere of the room overwhelmed her, too. The unreadable glyphs swam on the walls; the candles danced, dazzling her vision; smoke stung her eyes; she clenched her fists until her nails dug into her palms.

“So many times I've stood in places like this,” she muttered, “not rooms, but caves burrowed deep in the cliffs and mountains where one could listen and hear the dark things eating at the earth. I've commanded the winds, made the ground tremble, the sea rage, all at my whim. I've raised the lightning and worse.” She turned slowly, not seeing Onokratos's room, but stalactites and stalagmites burning with lichen sheen; seeing the sweaty, naked bodies of sister-witches cavorting around fires that seemed so tiny, insignificant, against the gloom of the earth's bowels; seeing her mother's face, encouraging her, instructing.

The room came back into focus. “And I turned my back on all of it.” She clapped her hands suddenly, a sharp crack that seemed out of place in the chamber's solemnity. “This is crazy. I'm getting out of here.” She headed for the door.

“Coward!” Onokratos accused. “You're afraid!"

“Yes, I'm afraid!” she hissed, whirling on him. “Any fool would be. First, you invoked the chaos god and damned an innocent child. Now, you would bargain with death's master!” She barked a harsh laugh. “Your plan is not insane! You are!"

Kimon's eyebrows shot up. “You speak of Orchos?"

Tras Sur'tian snapped, “There's no other but the One God."

Frost gave the Korkyran a hard look. “You speak out of habit or ignorance,” she informed him. She aimed a finger at Gel. “Look at the creature beside you. Is that a product of your One God?"

Onokratos planted himself between her and the door. “Do you fear for your own soul, woman? Do you value it more than Aki's?” He purpled with rage. “There are nine hells, paradise to perdition, according to your just due. You may aspire to any of them. But think of Aki cocooned in Gath's wretched web, dangling by a single glistening strand, feeding his vile lusts until she merges and becomes lost forever in the immoral vileness of chaos itself! Then think again of your cowardice!"

At mention of Aki, Tras gripped her shoulder. “What's this madman raving about?” he demanded.

“Nothing,” she answered icily. “The moon has eaten his brain."

Tras Sur'tian was not convinced. “You speak of my queen.” He addressed the wizard forthrightly. “You want to bargain?” He advanced toward Onokratos. “I know you've endangered her, damn your soul, but I'll do what I must to win her back."

Frost grabbed his arm. “Tras, shut up!"

He shook her off. “My life is dedicated to her; the duty is mine. You're nothing but a mercenary trying to earn your pay."

“You don't understand!"

“I'll do whatever I have to!"

“Let the fool!” Kimon spat, his eyes gleaming.

Her hand went for her sword, clasped the hilt ... and froze. She suddenly realized how deep a rift had split their fellowship. It seemed only yesterday they had shared food and sung songs as they'd traveled the road.

What was happening to them?

Onokratos's long, thin finger stabbed at her. “Only she can go,” he said. “No other."

Kimon took three quick strides, caught the wizard's wrist, and twisted, forcing the old man's back to the wall. “No, she goes nowhere for you! Send the Korkyran or that black beast of yours getting ready to pounce on me.” Frost marveled at that. Kimon wasn't in a position to see the demon; he must have sensed Gel's movement. “Better yet,” he continued, “go yourself, and take them both for company."

Neither Kimon nor Tras understood. “He intends a quest to hell itself!” she snapped.

Kimon released Onokratos and stepped back. “Then I'll stand by my last suggestion."

“Why not send the demon?” she said to Onokratos. “Let him bear your messages. Hell is his homeland, after all.” That seemed reasonable, and it wouldn't require the use of Demonfang. In fact, why hadn't Onokratos thought of that first?

“Gel stays. That is not debatable.” Onokratos glanced quickly at the demon. Frost thought he made some silent assurance, just a blink, a subtle nod. He looked back at her and went on. “You have the best chance for success. I can't go myself; I must remain here to command Gel, who is crucial to the plan.” He turned a contemptuous gaze on Kimon and Tras. “These two are inexperienced for such an arcane journey. And you're more clever than they. That may count for something."

She locked eyes with the wizard and surprised herself to find she was weighing possibilities.

“Samidar?"

She shut Kimon out.

“I can do it,” she heard Tras Sur'tian say. Her old friend would grasp any straw, even sacrifice himself to save Aki. He had pledged his life, he said. If she didn't go, he would.

“All right."

A look of pain flashed over Kimon's features. “Samidar, don't."

She reached out to reassure him with a touch, then snatched her hand back. Could he really try one day to kill her for money and fall in love with her the next? The pleading in his eyes seemed real. She could sense his longing. Fair or false, how could she judge?

Now was not the time to ponder it. She had no choice but to accept this task Onokratos set for her. She had sworn to find Aki, to rescue or avenge her. So far, she had only found the child's husk. That was not enough. Later, she would resolve matters with Kimon.

She faced Onokratos. “What must I do?"

The wizard straightened his robes. “It shouldn't be complicated,” he said. “Gel expects the sending to be easy."

“The sending,” she repeated. “What about the return?"

Onokratos drew a handful of powder from a hidden pocket, tossed it on each of the braziers. Malodorous clouds roiled up, filling the chamber with a new, heavy smell. “That's why your friends are present. The strength of our combined wills, intensified by their affections for you, should be enough to guide you back."

“Are you certain?” Kimon demanded, his brow deeply wrinkled.

“This is wizardry,” came the answer. “We deal with gods and demons; nothing can be certain."

Kimon's eyes blazed. He touched his sword's hilt and leaned close to Onokratos. “If she doesn't come back,” he said, “I'll send you to join her."

The threat hung in the air, and no one spoke. Onokratos cleared his throat, finally, and pointed to Tras Sur'tian. “You stand at the southeast corner of the triangle; do not disturb the silver dust.” To Kimon he assigned the northeast corner with the same admonishment. He took up position at the western corner. To Frost, he said, “Now you, in the circle at the center. That's right, you know how this goes."

“What of Gel? You said he was crucial."

“He'll be right behind you inside the triangle, but outside your circle.” He drew his foot along one axis, causing a gap in the silver dust barrier, allowing the demon to pass within. Then he sealed the triangle again with more shimmering dust from a pouch in another pocket.

The old man stood up. “A small demonstration,” he announced softly. “Gel, strangle the Korkyran."

The demon attacked. Tras Sur'tian leaped away, grabbing for his weapon, but long before those great, sinewy arms reached him, Gel roared in pain. Sparks flashed where his fists smashed against some invisible barrier. Obedient to the wizard's command, he reached again for the soldier captain's throat. His black face contorted with agony. Scintillant blue fire, appearing magically from the air, raced crackling up his arms.

“Enough, faithful servant.” Onokratos clapped his hands, and the demon was calm once more. Tras Sur'tian glared darkly, barely controlling his rage.

Onokratos wagged a finger. “Don't be so touchy!” he chided. “I knew he couldn't harm you. I wanted you to see that nothing that is not human can escape the triangle while the silver lines remain intact.” He looked to Frost. She shrugged, stepped out of her circle, walked between Tras and Kimon, then returned to her assigned place. Onokratos continued, “You must understand that as long as you do what I say, you'll be safe. No matter what transpires inside the triangle. No matter what you see. But if you disturb the silver dust and break the seal...” He drew a thumb across his throat, made a face. “Ugly, very ugly."

“Let's get on with it,” Frost insisted. “They'll do their part."

Onokratos harrumphed. “You must be just as careful,” he warned. “Even though you're inside it, if you misstep or thrash around, you could break the binding."

She waved a hand. “I know all this,” she reminded him. “Now, the longer I stand here, the more convinced I become that this is the most stupid—"

Onokratos folded his hands into his sleeves again. “Then we won't delay longer.” He spoke to Gel in a language she didn't understand, then asked him, “Ready?"