Skull Gate (33 page)

Tras Sur'tian shrugged, offered to take the child, but Kimon declined.

They came to an abrupt halt on the jagged lip of an immense crater. Frost muttered an Esgarian expletive as she peered over the edge, thanking her gods for sharp eyes and a cautious nature. In the darkness a careless man might have fallen. “Why didn't you tell us?” she said to Tras Sur'tian.

“The legends refer to a valley,” he replied, shaking his head. “Nothing like this."

“The legends are wrong, then,” Onokratos interjected. “Do you feel it?” He looked at Frost. “The power radiates from here. This is the island's heart."

Frost swallowed and peered downward again. How far? she wondered. There was no stone to drop, no echo to help her judge. “I do feel it,” she answered soberly, and hugged herself.

“Legend claims that Skodulac is haunted,” Tras Sur'tian said to fill the sudden silence. “Long ago, when Korkyra was a much smaller kingdom, this corner of the nation was dominated by a tribe of flesh-eating savages. During our expansionist period we sought to wipe them out with the blessings of the priests of the One God, to whom such an act was abomination. We nearly succeeded, though rumor has it some escaped and dwell today in the Creel Mountains of distant Rholaroth. I don't know the truth of that.

“But Skodulac was special to them. It was a temple to their primitive gods, a training camp for their warriors, their last refuge, and finally their funeral pyre.

“The histories say that when our forces finally breached the island's defenses, the savages threw themselves into a huge firepit of unnatural origin.” He paused, gazed thoughtfully into the blackness of the crater. “But all that was long ago."

Frost turned to Onokratos. “When we started out, you spoke as if you knew this place. Yet you've said little since we set foot on the island, and this crater surprised you as much as the rest of us."

The wizard stroked his daughter's hair, held her face close to his. “Gel told me the direction,” he answered. “He showed me a vision of Skull Gate. It's a vast arena unlike anything you've seen. A shame the night is so thick; I had hoped to see your expression when you gazed on it.” He shrugged. “Of the land itself, I know nothing; the demon did not enlighten me."

Kimon shifted his burden again, careful not to be too rough with the little queen, but plainly impatient. “Well, if it's at the bottom, there must be a road down. Let's get on with it."

Frost led them on a search around the crater's rim. The way down was, indeed, a road, wide-cut and smooth, excavated from the solid rock and earth. She marveled at its construction, knowing the great effort it must have taken to move such tonnage. She fancied she could hear the grunts and moans of the laborers, the cracking of the whips, the lumbering and creaking carts and wagons.

Tras Sur'tian had called these people savages. She laughed silently at that smug judgment. There was nothing primitive about their artifacts. The carvings on the stone markers they had passed required considerable skill and artistry, not to mention patience; this road, like the gently sloping spout of a dark, bottomless bowl, rivaled the best Korkyran highways.

If only there were more moonlight
, she wished to herself as they descended into the deeper blackness. The earth formed increasingly higher walls on either side of them as the road led downward. The sky became a narrow, star-sprinkled ribbon.
Maybe we should have waited for the dawn
.

“Why do the gods always prefer the dark?” Tras Sur'tian wondered aloud, echoing her thoughts.

“If they do,” Kimon muttered, “then Orchos chose well. This is surely the anus of the world."

“That's in Keled-Zaram,” Onokratos contradicted. “There's a cave, huge bats like you've never beheld—"

“Onokratos.” She brought them to a halt. The lower end of the road was still nowhere in sight. A cloying fear ate away little pieces of her courage. The night was like a strangling thing; she had never feared the dark before. Now, it overpowered her, swallowed her up. It made her feel small and weak.

She had been about to snap at the old man, stifle his silly, useless patter. Now, she thought better of it. “Why don't you try to summon your demon."

He didn't answer for a long moment. “I have tried to call him several times. Twice since we left the upper edge."

She uttered a quick, silent prayer. Orchos had bargained for five contestants. What would he do when only four showed up? She clutched her sword's hilt, finding no real measure of security in the contact.
I've bargained badly and doomed my friends
, she thought, cursing herself.
I've bungled through this from the first. I've had no plan, no real course of action. Without Gel we may be lost. Orchos wanted the demon most of all
.

“By the One God!"

She started as Tras Sur'tian's hand clapped her shoulder. Deep in private thought, she had missed the fact that the road had leveled and they had reached the crater bottom. She looked up, stared wide-eyed at the massive gate and wall that loomed before them.

“Is it real,” she gasped, “or carven?"

“It is the skull of the giant, Yahwei, whose footsteps were thunder on the earth when Man climbed down from the trees,” Onokratos said reverently. “It is quite real."

“How do you know that?” Frost persisted.

“I told you before, Gel showed me this place in a vision. How could I gaze on such a wonder and not ask the same questions that you do?"

The stars twinkled through the huge empty eye sockets and the space where once a nose had been. The gaping mouth itself formed the entrance to the arena. The lower teeth were gone and the jawbone thrust deep into the earth. The walls that held Yahwei's skull upright extended to either side and far beyond the range of sight.

“The walls are also made of skulls and bones,” Onokratos informed them. “Both human and animal mortared together. I can well believe Tras Sur'tian's charge that the builders were flesh-eaters."

“I'm not sure I'd feel any better about this place in the brightest daylight,” Frost admitted softly, peering through the mouth into the arena's liquid blackness. Ashur nickered, and she smiled halfheartedly. She'd nearly forgotten the unicorn, he'd been so quiet since sunset. “He isn't sure, either,” she added.

She gave the unicorn a couple of loving strokes, then she walked through Skull Gate into the arena.

Ashur's warning cry came too late. She saw the flames that were his eyes swell to raging fury, then pain exploded in the back of her head; she bounced helplessly off the unicorn's shoulder as the ground rushed up to meet her and the air deserted her lungs.

From the corner of her eye as she lay facedown in the dust she perceived a great, scaly
thing
as it bent over her, slavering, one taloned fist poised to rake the life from her body. Its drool splashed on her bare neck, icy cold and slimy. Its breath came harsh and rasping, and a malignant evil gleamed in its only eye. It reeked of all the charnel in hell.

She struggled to draw a breath, to reach her sword as the razored claw flashed down. Old reflexes took over and she rolled, found her feet, tugged her blade free ... and swallowed hard.

Moving on goat legs, her foe closed for a second blow, thrashing a spiked, reptilian tail. Half again as tall as she, its great arms reached for her. She fell into a fighter's stance, terror making tight fists of her hands around the sword's hilt. If it could hit her, she tried to reason calmly, then she could hit back. And what she could hit, she could hurt. She braced herself, raising the sword.

But the creature stopped suddenly, let out a howl, an inhuman cry that was more than mere agony. It rose, erect, talons ripping at the sky, tail whipping spasmodically. It wailed again, and steam began to ooze from its saurian flesh, then a creamy foam that sizzled and popped.

She jumped away as the monster toppled. It writhed, shrieking in the throes of death, kicking up the fine, powdery ash that covered the arena's floor. Within moments, the steam and crackling foam obscured its form. Frost could feel the terrible heat generated by its dissolution. A reeking stench filled the air. She watched until nothing remained but a damp, ichorous puddle.

Tras Sur'tian stood just inside the gate, the last drops of the specially purified water pouring from the two ruptured water-skins that hung tellingly from his grasp. “I didn't think,” he said lamely, mouth agape. “I just swung the skins, and they ruptured."

“Don't apologize,” she reassured him, going to his side. Ashur came, too, and nuzzled her shoulder. Kimon and Onokratos crept close. The children continued to sleep unaware in their arms. “What was that?” Kimon asked, appalled wonder coloring his voice.

“One of our foes, I would guess,” Onokratos replied warily, his eyes sweeping around for other dangers.

A numbing chill descended over the arena. A cloud of vapor rolled from the crater's northernmost lip, blotting out the stars. Then, as they watched, the cloud shaped itself into a familiar visage, a nebulous face that grinned down at them.

Well done, daughter!
The lord of worms laughed, and the sky shook with the sound of it. She heard his voice deep in her head. From the looks on her comrades' faces, they beard him, too.
First round to thee, or rather, to thy Korkyran friend.
Orchos laughed again.
Stout, for such an old fellow, is he not?

 

 

 

 

Chapter Seventeen

 

Tras Sur'tian shook a defiant fist. “Not
too
old, corpse-monger!"

The wispy image of Orchos's face dissolved. “Thee honors me with such familiarity.” The god of death wore human form as he appeared before them, clad in midnight garments that shimmered like moonlight on black waters. A slight breeze stirred the iron gray of his hair. He looked altogether like a man, but for his eyes. They shone with a wisdom and knowledge that made his gaze impossible to meet.

Even his voice was almost human. “I have waited for thee."

Frost imitated the god's aggressive stance. “We had some difficulty on the way,” she announced. “One of our number is missing."

His face crinkled in amusement. “Oh, he is not missing.” He made a small gesture.

In the center of the arena a pale, mystical light suddenly radiated up from the ground, illuminating a tall wooden cross, and the demon crucified. A low moan bubbled in Gel's throat as he raised his head and saw them.

Her eyes narrowed angrily, recalling what the demon had done to her. Gel groaned again, and the sound brought nothing but sweet pleasure.

“If it consoles thee,” Orchos said amiably, “his moment of ecstasy expended the last of his power."

He knew of the rape! She cursed silently, then stopped, biting her lip. Her worst fear was now reality. Much as she loathed the demon, she had counted on his power. How would they fight Orchos now?

“Renegotiate,” she said, inadvertently speaking aloud.

The death god shook his head. “Thee has made a bargain.” His tone was chiding, almost fatherly. “Gel's corruption is complete, as I knew it would be.” He turned toward the cross, and his voice raised in volume. “Demons are not gods. Thee could not dwell indefinitely on this plane and remain unchanged. Thee were a fool, Gel. I elevated thee, made thee a captain over the hordes of hell. But thee rebelled. Now, thee are no more than human.” He nodded sadly. “Almost, I pity thee. But I do not forgive thee.” He turned back to Frost, and she shivered. There was no more mirth in the maker of widows. “Thee has already defeated my servant, Kahlis, with thy magic water. So, it shall be five of thee against four of my demons."

The air shimmered. “Let none flee,” the god declared.

A peculiar glow filled the arena. On the crater's lip a towering pillar of flame crackled up toward the heavens. Then, at astounding speed it began to widen. It raced around the rim until it met itself, forming a roaring wall of fire that sealed them from the outside world.

She glanced at her comrades in the strange orange-yellow brightness. Tras appeared outwardly unimpressed. Kimon, however, was not so unaffected. With Aki's weight shifted into one arm, he had bared his sword. Onokratos hugged Kalynda to his breast with both arms; his eyes reflected a hardness she could not fathom.

She turned back to the lord of death. “I don't see anybody running away."

“So, let it begin,” he proclaimed. He raised an arm to the sky and called, “Chaldee!"

Beside Orchos the earth heaved and split open. A terrible thrashing tossed dust and clouds. Up from the gaping fissure rose the demon named Chaldee. It drew itself erect, flexed muscles, and shrugged off a cascade of dirt. Twice a man's height, he stood on powerful, bovine legs; a massive bellows-chest glittered with serpentine scales, rising and falling with each blustering breath. It curled its three-fingered hands into fists, and scimitar-shaped talons unsheathed from slits between its knuckles. Shaggy hair hid most of its head and face, but Frost could see the crooked yellow teeth as it grinned and the single huge eye that shone with festering intelligence.

Orchos's voice boomed. “Kiowye!"

A thunderclap shattered the sky. A piece of the night sky itself appeared to melt and flow to earth. As it touched the arena floor it suddenly hardened, forming a column of faceted obsidian. Another thunderclap sounded, and a webwork of cracks raced down the column's length. A third burst of thunder followed, so loud that Frost covered her ears. As the sound rolled away, the column collapsed in an almost musical tinkling of black crystal.

Kiowye stepped from the ruins, a creature of shining ice. Man-sized, its fingers long, razor-edged shards. It had no features, not eyes or nose or mouth. Where it stood the ground began to whiten with a fine layer of icy mist.

“Feel the cold?” Tras Sur'tian whispered. She nodded, said nothing.

“Dogon!” The death god's cry rose like a wind on the night air.

A chorus of high-pitched whines suddenly drowned all other sound. Out of nothingness, streamers of vibrant colors appeared and bolted crazily around the arena as if possessed with a wild life of their own. Around and around the streamers darted, creating an ever-tightening spiral, a dazzling vortex of scintillant hues. Mad harmonies crescendoed and abruptly ceased. The vortex whirled only a heartbeat longer. The colors dissipated, unveiling a hideous bat-winged, bat-faced monster with a man's body and the claws of a lion. Wings fluttered; a mouth opened to emit a shrill, challenging note.