Lord of Light

When the white wave and the dark line came together there was a confusion of voices, hisses and the rattle of arms.

The dark line halted, great gouts of dust fuming above it.

Then came the sounds of the aroused jungle as the gathered beasts of prey were driven upon the flank of the enemy.

The zombies marched to a slow, steady drumbeat, and the fire elementals flowed on before them and the grasses withered where they passed.

Sam nodded to Death, and his chariot moved slowly forward, riding upon its cushion of air. At his back, the army of Keenset stirred. Lord Kubera slept, drugged to the sleep that is like unto death, in a hidden vault beneath the city. The Lady Ratri mounted a black mare at the rear of the lancers' formation.

"Their charge has been broken," said Death.

"Yes."

"All their cavalry was cast down and the beasts still rage among them. They have not yet reformed their ranks. The Rakasha hurl avalanches like rain from the heavens down upon their heads. Now there comes the flow of fire."

"Yes."

"We will destroy them. Even now they see the mindless minions of Nirriti coming upon them as a single man, all in step and without fear, their drums keeping time, perfect and agonizing, and nothing behind their eyes, nothing at all. Looking above their heads then, they see us here as within a thundercloud, and they see that Death drives your chariot. Within their hearts there comes a quickening and there is a coldness upon their biceps and their thighs. See how the beasts pass among them?"

"Yes."

"Let there be no bugles within our ranks, Siddhartha. For this is not battle, but slaughter."

"Yes."

The zombies slew everything they passed, and when they fell they went down without a word, for it was all the same with them, and words mean nothing to the unliving.

They swept the field, and fresh waves of warriors came at them. But the cavalry had been broken. The foot soldiers could not stand before the lancers and the Rakasha, the zombies and the infantry of Keenset.

The razor-edged battle chariot driven by Death cut through the enemy like a flame through a field. Missiles and hurled spears turned in mid-flight to speed off at right angles before they could touch upon the chariot or its occupants. Dark fires danced within the eyes of Death as he gripped the twin rings with which he directed the course of the vehicle. Again and again, he drove down without mercy upon the enemy, and Sam's lance darted like the tongue of a serpent as they passed through the ranks.

From somewhere, the notes of a retreat were sounded. But there were very few who answered the call.

"Wipe your eyes, Siddhartha," said Death, "and call a new formation. The time has come to press the attack. Manjusri of the Sword must order a charge."

"Yes, Death, I know."

"We hold the field, but not the day. The gods are watching, judging our strength."

Sam raised his lance in signal and there was fresh movement among the troops. Then a new stillness hung about them. Suddenly, there was no wind, no sound. The sky was blue. The ground was a gray-green trampled thing. Dust, like a specter hedge, hovered in the distance.

Sam surveyed the ranks, moved his lance forward. At that moment, there came a clap of thunder.

"The gods will enter the field," said Death, looking upward.

The thunder chariot passed overhead. No rain of destruction descended, however.

"Why are we still alive?" asked Sam.

"I believe they would rather our defeat be more ignominious. Also, they may be afraid to attempt to use the thunder chariot against its creator—justly afraid."

"In that case . . ." said Sam, and he gave the signal for the troops to charge.

The chariot bore him forward. At his back, the forces of Keenset followed.

They cut down the stragglers. They smashed through the guard that attempted to delay them. In the midst of a storm of arrows, they broke the archers. Then they faced the body of the holy crusaders who had sworn to level the city of Keenset.

Then there came the notes of Heaven upon a trumpet.

The opposing lines of human warriors parted.

The fifty demigods rode forth.

Sam raised his lance.

"Siddhartha," said Death, "Lord Kalkin was never beaten in battle."

"I know."

"I have with me the Talisman of the Binder. That which was destroyed upon the pyre at Worldsend was a counterfeit. I retained the original to study it. I never had the chance. Hold but a moment and I will brace it about you."

Sam raised his arms and Death clasped the belt of shells around his waist.

He gave sign then to the forces of Keenset to halt.

Death drove him forward, alone, to face the half-gods.

About the heads of some there played the nimbus of early Aspect. Others bore strange weapons to focus their strange Attributes. Fires came down and licked about the chariot. Winds lashed at it. Great smashing noises fell upon it. Sam gestured with his lance and the first three of his opponents reeled and fell from the backs of their slizzards.

Then Death drove his chariot among them.

Its edges are razors and its speed three times that of a horse and twice that of a slizzard.

A mist sprang up about him as he rode, a mist tinged with blood. Heavy missiles sped toward him and vanished to one side or the other. Ultrasonic screams assailed his ears, but somehow were partly deadened.

His face expressionless, Sam raised his lance high above his head.

A look of sudden fury crossed over his face, and the lightnings leapt from its tip.

Slizzards and riders baked and crisped.

The smell of charred flesh came to his nostrils.

He laughed, and Death wheeled the chariot for another pass.

"Are you watching me?" Sam screamed at the heavens. "Watch on, then! And watch out! You just made a mistake!"

"Don't!" said Death. "It is too soon! Never mock a god until he is passed!"

And the chariot swept through the ranks of the demigods once again, and none could touch upon it.

Trumpet notes filled the air, and the holy army rushed to succor its champions.

The warriors of Keenset moved forward to engage them.

Sam stood in the chariot and the missiles fell heavy about it, always missing. Death drove him through the ranks of the enemy, now like a wedge, now like a rapier. He sang as he moved, and his lance was the tongue of a serpent, sometimes crackling as it fell with bright flashes. The Talisman glowed with a pale fire about his waist.

"We'll take them!" he said.

"There are only demigods and men upon the field," said Death. "They are still testing our strength. There are very few who remember the full power of Kalkin."

"The full power of Kalkin?" asked Sam. "That has never been released, oh Death. Not in all the ages of the world. Let them come against me now and the heavens will weep upon their bodies and the Vedra run the color of blood! . . . Do you hear me? Do you hear me, gods? Come against me! I challenge you, here upon this field! Meet me with your strength, in this place!"

"No!" said Death. "Not yet!"

Overhead, the thunder chariot passed once again. Sam raised his lance and pyrotechnic hell broke loose about the passing vessel.

"You should not have let them know you could do that! Not yet!"

The voice of Taraka came to him then, across the din of the battle and the song within his brain.

"They come up the river now, oh Binder! And another party assails the gates of the city!"

"Call then upon Dalissa to rise up and make the Vedra to boil with the power of the Glow! Take you of the Rakasha to the gates of Keenset and destroy the invader!"

"I hear, Binder!" and Taraka was gone.

A beam of blinding light fell from the thunder chariot and cut through the ranks of the defenders.

"The time has come," said Death, and he waved his cloak in gesture.