Timura Trilogy - The Gods Awaken Part 35

Then he was plunging into the water on the other side of the reef, desperately striking for the bottom where he thought the voices of the Favorites were coming from. Clutching onto the magical tether as a guide.

Suddenly the stone turtle was in his hand again and he struck out and up for the surface. He had time to suck in air before another wave caught him, hurling him toward the beach.

Then his head struck something hard and all became shooting stars of pain against a black, velvety night.

When he came to, Palimak didn't know how long he'd been unconscious. He was lying face down in wet sand, mouth full of grit, hot sun scorching his back, the stone turtle gripped in his right hand.

And the Favorites were jumping up and down on his shoulders, shouting hysterically: "Get up, Little Master! Get up! Get up! Get up!"

Palimak spat sand and moaned, "I can't. G.o.ds, I hurt all over!"

"You have to get up, Little Master!" Gundara pleaded.

"It's coming, it's coming!" Gundaree cried.

He groaned and forced himself to his knees, brus.h.i.+ng sand from his face. Then he heard a furious roar and sudden fear swept away all feelings of pain and weariness.

Hurtling along the beach toward him was an enormous lion's head. Seemingly supported by an invisible body that left no tracks in the sand, the maned head was carried about five feet off the ground.

The lion's eyes were fixed on Palimak and it was roaring in fury, exposing fangs the length and breadth of heavy spear blades.

Palimak needed no further persuasion from the Favorites. He jumped to his feet and ran for the jungle.

A narrow opening through the dense trees seemed to promise safety and he swerved toward it, practically diving through the leafy portal when he reached it.

Palimak stumbled, heard another roar--this one seeming to come practically at his heels--and he recovered, sprinting along the dimly-lit path as fast as his demon-powered muscles would carry him.

The lion was so close that he didn't have time to stop and climb a tree. He ran onward, praying his strength and breath would hold out.

Then he came to a sharp bend in the trail, forced by a great tree surrounded by thick roots that toweredmany feet above him.

"Stop, Little Master, stop!" the twins shouted in unison. "It's a trap!"

But the lion roared at the same time, its foul breath was.h.i.+ng over his shoulders.

Naked fear spurred a panicked leap and in less than a heartbeat he was hurtling past the sharpest part of the path's bend.

There was a burst of colorful lights, then a tingling sensation that s.h.i.+vered up his body from toes to crown. He fell heavily, landing on hard-packed ground.

Palimak remained there, hot sun scorching his bare torso. And he wondered why his heart was beating so hard and why his breath was so labored--as if he'd run a great distance at top speed.

But he had no memory of this, much less of the reason for it.

Many other questions came flooding in. He heard hundreds, possibly thousands of people cheering all around him.

Who were they? And why were they cheering?

There was also this shrill chattering noise in his ears. What was that all about?

And then he felt a stone-hard object in his pocket--jammed between the ground and his upper thigh. For some reason the object was important to him, although he couldn't say why, only that he was relieved it was still there.

Palimak thought, I wonder where I am?

And then came another, most disturbing thought: I wonder who I am?

Confusion mixed with growing alarm. For the life of him, he couldn't think of his name. It didn't help that all those people were shouting and those two hysterical voices chattering alien words in his ear wouldn't stop. He just wished everyone would shut up and give him a chance to figure it out.

Shut up, shut up, shut up, he thought. Odd, how those words seemed so familiar and served to make him feel better. He mouthed them: Shut up, shut up, shut up! It was like a tonic, settling his nerves.

Then a strong hand clutched his. And a deep voice said, "Rise, Honored One."

Palimak let himself be drawn to his feet. He found himself facing a broad, sun-blackened chest. He looked up--then up some more, neck craning back--until he saw a huge lion's head sitting upon on a man's thick, muscular shoulders.

"Good day, honored sir," Palimak said mildly, feeling not one twinge of fear at this oddity. "Who might you be?"

"I am King Felino," the lionman said.

"Very nice to meet you," Palimak replied. Then, frowning, he asked, "Pardon, Majesty, but am I supposed to know you? I hope you don't mind my rude question, but I seem to have lost my memory."

Instead of answering, the lionman handed Palimak a spear. Red ribbons were hung from its haft, looking like streams of blood."This is for you, Honored One," King Felino said.

Palimak nodded. "If that's my name," he said, "I quite like it: Honored One. So much better than the only other name I can think of, which is Little Master."

He grimaced. "I keep hearing that name in my head. *Little Master, Little Master' these voices keep saying. And I do wish they'd stop."

Palimak looked around and noted he was in a broad arena made of hard-packed red earth. Surrounding the arena were hundreds of half-naked people. Faces painted with gaudy colors, teeth filed to points.

And they were all shouting: "Kill, kill, kill, kill!" as they slammed their spear b.u.t.ts against the ground.

Palimak looked at his own spear, then at the lionman. "Am I supposed to kill somebody with this?" he asked.

"It is your duty, Honored One," King Felino answered. "You must save your people."

Palimak nodded. "That's a pretty good reason," he said. "First sensible one I've heard all day."

Then he wrinkled his brow. "A little earlier somebody advised me to jump and although that seemed like a terrible idea at the moment, I did it anyway. And I guess it must've worked out. Because here I am, ready to do my duty and all."

Just then the voices in his ear rang louder and this time he could make out the words: "It's a trap, Little Master! A trap!"

Reflexively he glanced around the arena. "I don't see a trap," he said to the voices. Then, to the lionman, "Do you see one?"

"It is time, Honored One," King Felino said.

"That's good," Palimak said. "Because I'm starting to get tired of just standing here and doing nothing but listen to these crazy voices."

Again, he scanned the arena. "If you don't mind me asking, Majesty," he said, "exactly who and where is this person I'm supposed to kill?"

The lionman lifted his long, brawny arm, pointing. "There," he said.

Obediently, Palimak looked where the lionman pointed. At first he didn't see anything except empty arena.

Then, in the center, there was a burst of bright light. Followed by an enormous swarm of colorful b.u.t.terflies exploding out of nothingness.

Puzzled, he thought, I don't see anything but b.u.t.terflies and they hardly seem worth killing.

And the voices in his ear jabbered, "It's a trap, Little Master. A trap!"

"Oh, shut up with your trap," Palimak said, getting really irritated. "Can't you see I'm busy looking for somebody to kill?"

At that moment a man popped out of thin air and plunged to the ground. He remained there for a moment, as if recovering from shock.The crowd's shouts grew louder: "Kill, kill, kill!"

"There's the villain, Honored One!" King Felino thundered. "The black-hearted enemy of your people--Safar Timura!"

Then he roared his lion's roar, quickening instant hate in Palimak's heart.

As the enemy rose to his feet, Palimak lifted the spear and charged.

And Palimak thought, Die, d.a.m.n you! Die, Safar Timura!

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN.

WITCHCRAFT.

Ordering Jooli and the others to remain in place, Leiria rushed back along the trail to the point where they'd seen Safar vanish.

She cursed herself as a fool for not remaining at Safar's side at all times, no matter what the circ.u.mstances. Leiria had watched him come around the bend, then pause as if something was troubling him. She'd even called to him to say there was nothing to worry about.

Then--right before her eyes--he'd mysteriously disappeared. There'd been no disturbance or hint whatsoever that something was going to happen. He'd just vanished into thin air.

Now, bared sword ready, Leiria was determined to take on a whole army if necessary to wrest Safar from the clutches of whatever threatened him.

But when she came to the place where she'd last seen him there was no sign of what had occurred.

Cautiously, she retraced Safar's steps--the prints of which were mingled with hers and the others--about a hundred feet back down the trail. Still nothing. She returned to the bend where they'd lost sight of him and examined the area more closely.

The only thing she found were the scattered bodies of scores of dead b.u.t.terflies. This was quite puzzling.

As far as Leiria could recall she hadn't seen a single b.u.t.terfly since they'd entered the jungle. More determined then ever, she once again retraced the trail. Studying every inch of the ground for some sign of Safar.

Meanwhile, Sergeant Hamyr had stumbled on a new mystery.

"Look here, Your Highness," he called to Jooli. "Young Lord Palimak's footprints ain't here no more!"

Jooli strode over to Hamyr who crouched, studying the ground. He looked up at her, bewildered.

"They were here, plain as day, a couple of minutes ago," he said, making a wide circle with his finger to surround an empty spot on the path.

He tapped the center with heavy emphasis. "Right d.a.m.ned here, they were," he said.

"And there were others, too," he continued, pointing down the trail ahead. "But those b.a.s.t.a.r.ds ain't there, either! You saw them, right? Or has some son of a flea-bitten goat snuck up to steal my wits?"

Grim-faced, Jooli absorbed the news. "Yes, I saw them," she said. "Unless my wits have been stolen as well.""Where'n the h.e.l.ls did they go, then, Your Highness?" he asked, voice pleading. "Nothing but d.a.m.n, rotted jungle trash far as the eye can see!"

"Let me take a look, sergeant," Jooli said, motioning Hamyr aside. "And then maybe I can answer the question for both of us."

Sergeant Hamyr made room and Jooli crouched before the circle he'd scratched in the leaves. She fumbled in her witch's pouch, which hung from her belt, and found a small oilcloth packet, marked with magical symbols.

Jooli opened it and sprinkled a small quant.i.ty of purple dust into one palm. Then she blew gently across her open hand, the dust streaming out to settle on the circle.

"There it is! Right where it was before!" Sergeant Hamyr exclaimed as Palimak's distinctive footprint faded into view, thinly painted purple by the magical dust.

It remained there a moment, the dust stirring into motion as if bringing the footprint to life. Then it vanished, dust and all.

"It's gone again, by d.a.m.n!" Sergeant Hamyr cursed. He looked at Jooli, scratching his head. "Do you know what in the h.e.l.ls is happening, Your Highness?" he asked.

Jooli nodded, face grave. "It's a false trail, sergeant," she said. "Laid by witchcraft."

Sergeant Hamyr was aghast. "You mean some wrinkle-teated witch played us the fool?" he said.

Then he reddened as he remembered Jooli's abilities and made a hasty apology. "Beggin' your pardon, highness," he said. "I guess I stuffed my boot in my mouth, heel and all!"

"No apology necessary, sergeant," Jooli said. Despite the circ.u.mstances, she couldn't help smiling.

"Although I can't speak for the witch, who may or may not possess a wrinkled bosom. As a matter of fact, this witch could be a wrinkle-teated he, instead of a she."

The sergeant goggled. "I thought a witch was just a wizard in female dress," he said.

The other men had gathered around and were listening in. Although this was hardly the moment for a general discussion on gender sorcery, Jooli noted that their interest was taking their minds off their current problems.

So she said, "The difference is in power, plus the source of the magic. Witches generally get their power solely from nature and make greater use of plants, animal matter and talismans. Wizards rely somewhat on nature, but they can also draw energy from the spirit world."

She shrugged. "Generally speaking, this makes wizards like Safar and Palimak much more powerful than witches. But not always. And not in all cases."

Jooli gestured, taking in the surrounding jungle. "In this place a witch would be very strong indeed."

She started to explain that the jungle was full of animal spirits and magical plant life, but decided not to.

No sense frightening them so much they'd need a change of breeches the next time an ape hooted.

"Anyway, that's the theory," Jooli said, rather weakly.

Just then Leiria strode up, interrupting the conversation. Jooli's immediate reaction was relief that she'd beable to avoid some uncomfortable questions. But when she saw Leiria's expression all the worry returned.