The Warrior Returns - Anteros 04 (8 page)

My mouth became dry. I was afraid to speak, for my thoughts were far from pure.

Daciar looked at the curtained alcove, then back at me. The coals that were her eyes burned deeper. She rose and drifted over to me like a cloud, taking my hand and drawing me up. I could smell her perfume—hot and lemony like a mulled drink.

"Come, Rali dear," she said.

And she led me to her downy bed.

it was a
night of dreams, a night of quiet magic.

Daciar coaxed all the tension from my body, massaging each toe, then working up slowly and carefully, paying close attention to every kink and twist. I became like warm wax under her hands, helpless in my blissful state to dp anything but moan and turn this way and that as she commanded.

Then she made love to me, carrying us both off to shaded glades in sunny lands. Afterward we cuddled and caressed for a time, and when we'd recovered, we made love again. I think I called out Otara's name once, but Daciar only held me tighter and whispered gentle praises, so I knew she didn't mind. When we were exhausted, I fell asleep in her arms.

Daciar had given me a gift worth all the gold in the coffers of the gods.

I awoke just at dawn to the sweet sound of a lyre playing somewhere off in the distance. As I lay there letting the waves of music wash over me, I realized I'd been listening to it for a long time.

It was a most familiar melody.

Then I heard the blast of a great war trumpet. Then bells tolled the alarm. As I leaped up I heard shrieks. The city was being attacked.

CHAPTER

FOUR

The
Warrior
Giants

I
leaped naked
from the bed, scrabbled madly for my dagger—the only weapon I had—and ran to the window.

We were several flights above the temple grounds, and the window commanded a good view of the harbor and the road that wound up the hilltop to the temple. A cold wind blew in and I shivered. But it wasn't from the sudden chill.

In the harbor was a ship of such size that I became confused for a moment as I wondered how something so far away could seem so large. Fear iced my veins when I fully understood that only giants could sail such a thing.

My mind reeled and then the sounds of fighting drew my eyes to the dockyards. Three immense warriors towered over what had to be a hundred Pisidian soldiers. The giants wore helms and heavy armor and wielded swords with blades as wide as a man and twice as long. The Pisidians were bravely trying to crowd in and overwhelm the giants.

The three huge warriors suddenly charged the soldiers, and many men fell in that furious but disciplined onslaught. Despite their success, the giants didn't seem willing to take advantage of their attack and soon fell back to hold their original ground.

Then I noted a longboat the size of a normal ship drawn up near the shore. It was manned and defended by four other
giants. I quickly counted ten double oars and knew there were at least thirteen more enemy warriors on the loose.

I felt Daciar's presence. She'd come up behind me to see what was happening. We watched the scene in silence for a few moments, gathering up our will and our wits. The wind blew colder. Daciar handed me a robe and I fumbled it on, tucking my hands into the deep sleeves. Then I saw the enemy ship's banner stiffen in the same wind.

On it was the sign of the Ice Bear King.

The cold and the sight of that flag seemed to sharpen my wits, and I quickly sorted through a jumbled mass of thoughts and questions.

How had the giants broken through Daciar's magical shield? The lyre music was the answer to that. Which meant, as I'd feared, that there was more sorcery behind the pirate chief than the one little demon whom I'd so easily dispatched.

Why hadn't we slept on, t
hen, blissful slaves to the sor
cerous tunes? The answer was simple. Daciar's spells diluted the power of the lyre's assault. Which meant this was magic I could fight and hope to overcome.

Next question: What was the giants' purpose? Take the city? From what I'd seen, that was unlikely. With twenty men ashore, a longboat held in readiness, and a waiting ship, the goal must be something they hoped to achieve quickly before making an equally fast escape. But what could that goal be? The answer came immediately.

I heard screams just below us, then bellowed orders from the roadway. Great mailed figures trotted up the road and then onto the broad hilltop.

The giants were attacking the temple.

There were thirteen. One of the massive creatures dropped back to block the roadway with his steely bulk. He bestrode the breadth of the path, shield held chin high, sword raised. He thundered insults at the Pisidian soldiers who'd followed the group up the hill.

The others trooped up to the building we were in, fanning out as they came.

There were only two temple guards. After all, who would attack such a holy place? The guards were old men; I don't know whether you might consider them heroes or fools, for despite the odds, they immediately trotted out to face the giants.

They fought as well as they could. And they died as well as they could. I think of them sometimes. I recall that scene vividly. Two men decades past their prime wearing a few pieces of hastily pulled on armor moving forward briskly in the path of the enemy's advance. Their duty commanded them to confront a force that was obviously overwhelming. But they did not hesitate. When all seems hopeless to me, when the odds seem insurmountable, I draw strength from the image of those gray warriors tossing Fate's dice and knowing as they did so that those ivory cubes had been altered. In our childhood myths their bravery and honor would be rewarded by the gods. Somehow the giants would be toppled, the warriors spared, the temple saved.

That's not how it turned out.

The heroes died swiftly and with little effort on the part of the villains. And the only reward the old soldiers got was an easier afterlife for their ghosts.

As the old men fell and bled, the door to the room burst open and the frightened priestesses crowded in, crying for Daciar to save them.

She was barefooted, wearing only a yellow robe like the one she'd given me, and her silver hair was tousled from sleep. But I never saw such a serene and regal figure as Daciar made when the pleading women pressed in all around her.

She drew herself up and thundered: "Silence!"

And there was silence.

She gestured to Liana. "Get me my tiara!"

Liana rushed to obey, the women drawing back to make a path.

Daciar held the jeweled tiara high, offering it to the heavens. I felt a rush of energy flow past as she summoned magical strength—commanding full powers as the Mother

Oracle. Then she carefully placed the tiara on her head and the flow steadied, then enveloped her until she seemed a fortress.

She flung up her hands to cast a spell. The motion in the ethers was like the passage of a great creature through the seas, and I felt my sorcerous self rocked by the heavy, shifting currents.

Just as she was about to hurl the spell, a sudden fist of knowledge struck me. "Daciar, wait!" I cried.

Daciar was a gentle wizard who'd served her people well for many years. An enthusiastic scholar, she was a font of knowledge on magical theory, but her practice had been limited to goodly acts performed for the faithful. She was like a talented Healer who'd devoted her life to the care of families and common people with common ailments. That Healer might know much about the killing plagues that sometimes sweep our lands. She might even have studied defenses and strategies of Healers who'd faced those plagues in the past But the difference between knowing a thing and actually encountering it is like the wide gulf of difference between a kitchen knife and a broadsword.

Daciar had never experienced war. Never cast a spell in anger, or defended a counterattack, or considered the duplicity of a canny enemy who'd come to kill. But I had. And I sensed the danger as she cast the spell. She hurled it with as much force as any I'd witnessed on the battlefields. It was a classic spell, so perfectly faceted that I was in awe of its clean edges and wondrous angles. No Master Wizard, not even Janos Greycloak, could have cast it better. But my admiration was shattered when I saw what the classic counter would be.

My warning shout came too late.

The giants bellowed in pain as Daciar's spell buffeted them. But then her spell blasted back with such fury—the force doubled—that my senses shriveled from the heat.

Daciar screamed and collapsed to the floor.

As the priestesses cried out, I saw a thin trickle of blood leak from the corner of Daciar's lips. She did not move as the women covered her with their bodies and wept

A giant's voice thundered through the window. "All of you! In the temple! We mean you no harm. We come for the Mother Oracle. Send her out to us at once. Send her out and you will be spared!"

The giant's command brought a hush to the room. The priestesses looked at one another, eyes shifting from face to face. I could feel their fury grow, their common resolve becoming as strong as the roots of a mighty tree. These women would not betray their Oracle. They would not give her up even if she were only a corpse.

I had to act fast

I pushed my way to Daciar's side. No one said anything as I knelt by her body. The women seemed to understand what I was up to and made no protest when I removed her tiara.

Before I put it on I leaned down and kissed her lips. They were warm, and I hoped and prayed that it was a faint breath I felt when our lips touched.

The giant shouted again. "Send her out I said. Send us Mother Daciar. Or you'll all die."

I went to the window and leaned out.

The brutes had come closer and we were nearly at eye level. I found myself staring into the huge eyes of their captain.

"I am Mother Daciar," I said. "I am the Mother Oracle." And then I turned away from the window and began my preparations.

I
felt like
a lamb being led to market as the giants trotted me down the hill in the robes and tiara of the Mother Oracle of Pisidia.

I was alone with them. In Daciar's name I'd ordered the Pisidian soldiers to withdraw, warning that I'd be killed if they made one move to assist me. The roadway was empty, but I could hear shutters being drawn and feel people look out to catch a glimpse of the sad parade.

I felt helpless walking in those massive shadows. You can't imagine how huge they seemed. It wasn't only their length and breadth and weight that was overwhelming. Their smells were strong. Fouler even than the stench of Pisidia. Their stomachs rumbled with digestive gasses, and I could hear the semi
-
liquid contents bumping about like carcass soup in an iron kettle. Their breath wailed in and out like the winds through a sea cave.

When they scratched their greasy waist-length beards, I imagined I saw gray scurrying things of frightening size flee their probing.

The captain caught one between his meaty fingers. There was an audible snap as he cracked it with his filthy nails, and I thought I saw blood gush out He poked his fingers through his drooping mustaches and sucked them clean of the creature's remains.

He belched loudly, then said, "I likes how you walks, little mother. Betcha got somethin' under them robes that'd make a good meal."

The others cackled. The sound was like ice floes grating together.

"Whyn't we take a look-see?" said another. "Got a gold piece she's gotta gash that'd do a regiment of pikemen."

"I got two says she's blond all over," said a third.

"She'll strip nice, that's for sure," said the captain. 'Too bad she's so small. Won't last through maybe four or five of us."

I reacted to none of this, concentrating on nothing more than setting one foot before the other. Their crude remarks grew fouler, more explicit, more violent. I couldn't let it bother me. They wanted to humiliate me. Shame me. Bring me more under their power.

I wished I were Polillo. She was strong. She could hate. She'd have shriveled their pricks with her replies. She'd have dared them to drop their breeches, and swear she'd rip off their balls and make them her supper.

And I thought, Polillo, ah my friend, how I miss you. How I wish you were with me now. And I chanted, low:

"Ghost. Sweet Ghost. Live in me now. Leave your spectral home And abide with your friend Who loves you. Come fill me up, My Polillo."

She came into me. I felt Polillo's presence swell my veins, thicken my bones, make steel bands of my muscles. I laughed and it was Polillo's laugh. Bawdy and deep. I rolled my shoulders and felt the rippling of Polillo's strength. I stomped my foot with berserker's glee. And the ground quaked with Polillo's weight.

"Here now, what're you up to?' the giant captain said.

His massive paw engulfed my neck and turned me about.

I made myself demure. "Why, nothing, sir," I sobbed. I made myself tremble and shed a tear or two. "I only stumbled, that's all."

"We just got her all excited, Cap'n," one of his companions said. "Got her knees tremblin' thinkin' of all of us between 'em."

The captain guffawed and let me go. "You won't have to wait long, little mother," he said. He pointed at the crumbled stone seawall where the longboat and its giant guards waited. It was only a hundred steps away. "Not long at all. You got my promise on that."

Polillo's ghost growled, but I kept her rage in check. I cast a professional eye on the battered seawall. It curved along the shore, sometimes sweeping out so far that parts of the beach were hidden from the longboat's view. If I'd had time, I could have hidden some soldiers in one of those loops. I studied the varied height of the wall, saw the places where it presented an easy climbing surface.

I did all this quite coolly—more of a military woman's intellectual study than anything. For I no longer feared these creatures. They wouldn't harm me. Not yet. They were under orders to take me somewhere, to someone. No, not me. Not Rali Antero. But Daciar. The Mother Oracle.

But why?

By whose orders?

And how long could I maintain this mask? Polillo's ghost said, "Don't go,
Rali
." She was right. So I let her loose.

The captain pushed me toward the boat and I pretended to stumble again. But as I fell forward I pivoted, recovered, then ran for the highest point of the seawall. I heard the giants bellow alarm and rumble after me, their mail making an ungodly clatter.

Polillo's strength powered my limbs and I bounded up the wall effortlessly. When I reached the top, I dug in my toes to stop.

I caught a glimpse of a startled face staring at me. It was only a quick snatch, but the image froze for a moment It was an ugly face. A skinny face. Bald of pate and chin. A long pink tongue flickered out in surprise.