Realms of the Arcane a-5 Page 4

  The girl grimaced. "This I have already learned." She lifted the heavy mass of her hair and showed him the multitude of long, livid streaks that scored her neck and shoulders.

  Mbugua recognized the mark of fingernails, and noted with a touch of pride that Satarah used her hands in battle as well as any wemic would use her forepaws. It was a shame that such wounds had not remained upon Ka'Narlist, who so deserved to bear them!

  "If he has sought you out once," the wemic noted grimly, "he will do so again."

  "And when he does, I will fight again!" she growled back. "I quenched his ardor in blood, and so will I do again! I will have my honor or my death-it matters not which."

  Mbugua started to bid her otherwise, but something in Satarah's eyes made him hold his tongue. He could not-he would not-instruct this fierce girl to tamely submit herself to the wizard. But he took the necklace he had made-a dainty clam shell decorated with his wemic clan symbol and hung on a string of freshwater pearls-and handed it to her.

  Satarah took the bauble with glad, greedy fingers. For a moment the girl's face was bright with the pleasure of receiving a pretty gift from her father's hands, and the elven wizard was utterly forgotten. Then her eyes-eyes that saw nearly as much as a shaman's- settled upon Mbugua's uneasy face.

  "What has this to do with the wizard?" she demanded, getting to the heart of the matter.

  Mbugua decided to answer in kind. "There is an enspelled pearl within the clam shell. Wear it when Ka'Narlist sends for you. It will steal a portion of his spirit."

  The girl nodded thoughtfully. There was no hint of fear in her eyes as she contemplated this attack upon her powerful master. "But how can this be done, that he will not notice?"

  "Look at the sky," Mbugua advised her. "Does its sapphire hue dim when you take a single breath? Are the stars drawn closer when you weep? The sky cannot be diminished so. Thus it is with the spirit: it is a thing without beginning or end. The single breath of it that is drawn into the pearl will not disturb the wizard."

  A rare smile broke over Satarah's face, and she quickly slipped the necklace over her head. "This I will do, and gladly. I only regret that it will bring the wizard no pain!"

  "There is one more thing I need of you," Mbugua said hesitantly, "but first I must tell you more about Ka'Narlist's work than you will want to hear." When the girl nodded her encouragement, he told her of the wizard's ambition-to create a race of seagoing creatures from his own blood, a vicious race that would conquer and control the seas.

  "Soon he will beget his first blood-child," Mbugua concluded. "I want my blood to mingle with Ka'Narlist's in that monster's body. I would bind the creature to me with the blood-bonds of the wemic clan, and turn him against the wizard. This is not something I do lightly, and for it, I will need your help. Your blood."

  Satarah regarded him narrowly, hearing his reasoning but suspecting it. "Why not use your own?"

  "Is Ka'Narlist such a fool, that he would not notice if his creature was born with four legs and fur?" Mbugua retorted. "No, you carry the blood of the wemic clan, but your outward form is more like that of an elf. It is still a risk, but a smaller one."

  The girl shrugged. "I care not for the risk. But I do not see why the creature that results would work against the wizard."

  Again Mbugua heard the unspoken question behind her words. He dared not tell her the second half of his plan-his determination to imbue the creature with Ka'Narlist's own rapacious spirit, with the wizard's driving ambition for conquest. Mbugua's fondest, darkest hope was that the creature would set its sights upon Ka'Narlist's impressive wealth, and devise a way to own it. It would not be the first time that a son ousted his father, nor would it be the last. Yet the creature would not have Ka'Narlist's magic, and could in turn be overthrown. Mbugua dared not tell Satarah any of this, for fear that the wizard might somehow get it from her. He would tell her what he could, and pray that she was daughter enough to understand.

  "Why would this creature not seek vengeance," Mbugua retorted, "seeing that the wizard enslaves many of his wemic kindred? The ties of blood-bond are powerful in the clan. Do you not know this to be so?"

  "I am only half wemic," Satarah said bitterly. But her fingers clutched her father's gift, traced the rune that he had etched unto the clamshell-the rune that proclaimed her, a woeful thing begotten of a foul wizard's magic, a member of a proud wemic clan. Her eyes were bright and fierce as they sought Mbugua's. "But yes, my father, the bonds of blood are strong. I know it to be so! I will do all that you ask."

  The wemic cupped her cheek in his massive hand, and sadness smote him deeply as he realized it was the first caress he had ever offered to his elflike child.

  Satarah gripped her father's tawny hand with both her own, fiercely and briefly confirming their pact and their bond. Then she stepped back and squared her shoulders as if preparing herself for the battle ahead.

  Is that wineskin empty? Loretelling is thirsty work. Listening also has a way of drying the throat, and you and your kindred listen well. A finer audience I have seldom seen!

  A trick? How so? Surely a band ofelven hunter-warriors is match for a single wemic loreteller, whether you drink or no. Such suspicions do not speak well for you, elf. As mygrandsire would say, "A thief never forgets to bolt his own door."

  And have I not given my oath that I will not fight until the tale is told?

  Oh, very good, elf! You turn my own taunt back against me-a nimble riposte! Yes, I have also pledged to give you the entire story, and so I shall.

  That very night, the inhabitants of the wizard's castle shivered as they listened to the wemic shaman's song, carried to them by a mournful wind.

  It was not an unfamiliar sound. They knew full well what it meant: yet another inhabitant of Ka'Narlist Keep had died. The knowledge that their turn could come at any time chilled them as they listened to the wemic's rhythmic chant. But tonight, the shaman's voice seemed somehow different-infinitely sadder and throbbing with suppressed wrath.

  Far below the listening castle, Mbugua sang the spirit of Satarah on its way to the proud afterlife that awaited wemic warriors.

  But first, he'd taken from her body two things: a vial of the blood that flowed freely from her many wounds, and a black pearl vibrating with a spirit so malevolent, so ambitious and vile that it could only be Ka'Narlist's. Of this, the wemic shaman was certain, as certain as he was that the daughter of his blood and his spirit lay dead before him.

  Success was his. Later, perhaps, Mbugua would be grimly pleased. Now there was only frustration, and a grief deeper than he had expected to feel.

  When the ritual was completed, when Satarah was well and truly gone, the wemic roared his rage and his anguish out over the uncaring sea.

  And far above the windswept shore, the inhabitants of Ka'Narlist's castle shivered at the terrible sound. They had many reasons to fear the wizard; the fact that he himself did not fear the wemic was high among them.

  In the birthing chamber, a female sea elf's moans mingled with the resonant chanting of the wemic shaman. Mbugua crouched beside the shallow pool where the elf woman labored, humming and chanting softly as he sang the child within her toward the light.

  The sea elf tensed as yet another massive contraction rippled across her rounded belly. Her body arched, her mouth opened in a shriek of pure anguish. Mbugua reached into the water and caught the babe as it slipped from her body.

  At once, the wemic knew that he had succeeded in shaping Ka'Narlist's magical begetting. The infant was not at all what the wizard had intended. It was a boy-child, perfectly formed, and utterly sea-elven, from his softly pointed ears to the fine webbing between the fingers of his tiny, flailing fists. But Mbugua's shaman senses, finely tuned to the new life in his hands, felt the blood-bonds of his own clan tying him to the child. The wemic shaman continued to sing, this time a song of welcome, as he tended the child and the exhausted sea elf who had birthed it.

  The female's eyes followed Mbugua's eve
ry move, and slowly the despair in them changed to wonder- and the dawning of a mother's intense love. But Mbugua shook his head when she reached hungry arms out for the beautiful newborn. Although her blood had had a part in the infant's begetting, though she had carried and brought it forth according to the ways of nature, and though the child might appear to be nothing more or less than a perfect sea elf, the babe was none of hers. Already Mbugua could sense the still-amorphous spirit of the child. This was truly Ka'Narlist's own.

  At that moment, the wizard strode into the room and peered down at the infant in Mbugua's arms. His dark face twisted with rage and disappointment.

  "Another failure," he muttered, and turned away. "Dispose of it."

  "As you command, Master," Mbugua called respectfully after the departing wizard. With one massive forepaw he slapped aside the elf woman's desperate, grasping hands, and he padded from the chamber with the doomed infant in his arms. Other slaves would tend and console the female, for she would be needed again-the sea elf was a proven breeder who had produced three live children of her own. Ka'Narlist would waste little time on this slave's recovery: Mbugua was certain that before the crescent moon grew full, yet another of the dark elf's twisted offspring would be magically planted within her belly.

  The wemic carried the newborn down to the edge of the sea, ignoring its thin, indignant cries. To his private cove he went, and his savage roars chilled those who listened in the castle far above.

  They heard, but they did not understand.

  In response to Mbugua's summons, a sea-elven woman emerged from the waves and waded ashore. She took the babe from the wemic's arms, then unwrapped the damp blanket that swaddled it so that she might examine the tiny fingers and toes.

  "The babe is perfect," she said at last. "Are you certain of its nature?"

  "As certain as I am of my own," Mbugua said flatly.

  "Raise him, as we agreed, and he will in time avenge your stolen kin. But trust him not! Ka'Narlist has bred violence and hatred into this one."

  "I will remember, and watch," the elf agreed. "And I will tell him tales of the wizard's power and wealth, and let him know that this would be his rightful portion, had his father not discarded him."

  The wemic nodded. "One thing more: whenever you hear my voice raised in ritual song, bring the babe close to shore so that he might watch and learn. Let him see me sing away the spirits of Ka'Narlist's victims. Let him learn to hate his wizard father for the evil that he does. And when he has learned this lesson," Mbugua said softly, "then I will teach him to fight!"

  Nearly a year passed, and again Mbugua crouched beside the birthing pool to aid the same sea-elven woman. This time, the soft play of the cleansing fountain and the chanting of the shaman were the only sounds in the room. The elf woman lay limp, uncaring, as nature followed its ordained path and the child tore its way from her body.

  This time, Ka'Narlist himself attended the birth. He watched with keen interest, and when his wemic slave raised the child from the pool, a smile of fierce elation lit his dark face.

  "At last, success!" the wizard exulted.

  But Mbugua could only stare at the horror in his hands. The infant was hideous, monstrous. It was also strong: already it could lift its head, and it struck out purposefully at the wemic with tiny claws that etched lines of blood along Mbugua's hands and wrists. Through his daze, Mbugua noted that the darting movements of those hands and the quick turns of the head upon that too-strong neck predicted a raptor-swift strike. Although elflike in such matters as number and placement of limbs, the creature was covered with dark green scales. Small black fins sprouted from its head and body. The head lacked both hair and ears, and the face was dominated by a pair of enormous black eyes and a long slit of mouth. It had yet to draw breath and cry; Mbugua found himself hoping it never would.

  Muttering an oath, Ka'Narlist struck the infant from the stunned wemic's hands. The tiny monster splashed into the pool. Bubbles rose from the water, along with an eerie, high-pitched shriek that sent a shiver down Mbugua's spine. To the shaman's sensitive ears, the cry was a harbinger of death to many innocent sea folk.

  "Cut the cord, put the babe to breast," Ka'Narlist scolded. "You are the midwife here, not I! See to it!"

  Mbugua fished the infant from the pool, quickly tended its needs, and placed it in the elf woman's limp arms. Her dazed, empty eyes widened with sudden horror, and her apathy exploded into hysterical screams. Too late, the wemic understood why.

  The infant's mouth was flung open wide, impossibly wide. It was lined with rows of tiny, triangular fangs like those of a shark. The babe clamped down, and Mbugua heard the dreadful sound of teeth grating upon bone.

  He caught a glimpse of the sea elf's ribs before the flow of her lifeblood turned the waters of the birthing pool a deep crimson.

  Ka'Narlist frowned and flicked his fingers: the dying elf woman's shrieks stopped abruptly. The wizard nodded thoughtfully as he watched the babe chew and swallow its first meal.

  "How better to train them to hunt sea elves than to give them a taste of sea-elven blood with their first breath?" he mused.

  He turned to Mbugua. "Fetch all the captive sea-elven females, then go to the slave markets and buy all that are available. We will need as many hatching hosts as we can acquire, since it would seem that they can be used only once."

  The wizard smiled, seemingly amused by the stunned expression on the wemic's face. "Come, now-away with your tiresome scruples! This is a great day. When the sea is mine to command, you may boast that you witnessed the birth of the sahuagin race!"

  The years passed, and the vast walled pools and the water-filled dungeons on Ka'Narlist's estate soon teemed with sahuagin.

  Even Mbugua had to admit that they were amazing creatures. They reached maturity within a year, and, unlike most of the wizard's other creations, they could reproduce. This they did with astonishing fecundity. After three years, Ka'Narlist ceased to magically breed the sahuagin, leaving them to their own devices. Within ten years, Ka'Narlist had a tribe.

  The sahuagin learned nearly as quickly as they bred. They could swim from the moment of their birth and could walk in their second moon of life. As soon as they could grasp a weapon, they were taught to fight on land and in the water. Within twenty years, Ka'Narlist had an army.

  Throughout these years, Mbugua spent much of his time at the pools and the training pens, watching as Ilythiirian raiders-themselves slaves to the wizard- trained the sahuagin in the fighting arts of the dark elves.

  The creatures proved to be fierce fighters, neither giving nor asking quarter in their battles against each other, and showing ruthless delight in slaying the sea-elven fighters who from time to time were tossed into their pools. But never-never once-did any of them turn tooth or claw or blade upon one of their dark-elven masters. From the moment of birth, each sahuagin was trained to regard the dark elves as gods, and Ka'Narlist as chief among them. He was, quite simply, their Creator. None of the sahuagin ever set eyes upon Ka'Narlist, but they were taught to fear, obey and revere him. It did not escape their notice that their dark-elven Creator knew all that they did-and often seemed to sense their very thoughts! To them, Ka'Narlist was truly a god, and they were his eager servants.

  At last, the day came to release the sahuagin into the sea. They were brought for the first time into the castle's great hall, to be awed by a wondrous display of music and light and magic-things that none of them had seen at close hand, things that seemed to them to be true manifestations of a mighty god. At the height of the ceremony, Ka'Narlist himself appeared, hovering above the assembly, his form magically enhanced to enormous size and limned with eerie, dancing light.

  "The moment of your destiny has arrived," the wizard announced in a voice that shook the hall's windows. "The sahuagin will become a great people. You will conquer the seas, plunder its treasures, and know enormous wealth and power! This is your right and your destiny, as the created children of Ka'Narlist. In all you do, b
ring glory to the name of your lord and god!"

  "Ka'Narlist!" the sahuagin host responded in a rapturous, thunderous roar.

  The wizard smiled benevolently and extended his hands. Black pearls dripped from them and rained into the grasping claws of his dark children.

  "You know what these are, and have been trained in their use. For each sea elf you slay, you will return one of these pearls-with the elf's magic captured inside. Magic is meant only for the gods. Regard the death of each blasphemous sea elf as an act of worship, and the pearls as proof of your loyalty to me! For have I not given you life, a kingdom to rule, and weapons with which to conquer it?"

  The sahuagin nodded avidly, for their lord's reasoning was most agreeable to them. Also, they had learned to their pain that what the great Ka'Narlist could give, he could also take away! Those sahuagin who harbored the slightest hint of rebellion or heresy had died horribly, mysteriously, in full sight of their scaly kindred. Clearly, it was folly to oppose their dark lord, and an honor to serve one so powerful!

  Ka'Narlist spoke a few more words, then at last released the sahuagin to seek the sea. They tore from the hall and swarmed down the cliff, all the while hooting and shrieking oaths against their sea-elven foes.

  When all was quiet, the wizard floated to the marble floor and turned a smile upon his wemic slave. Of all Ka'Narlist's servitors, only Mbugua was granted the honor of attending this ceremony. Indeed, the wizard kept his aging wemic at his side almost constantly-a witness to his glories and an audience for tales of his yet-unfulfilled ambitions.

  "The world below the sea is but the start," the wizard proclaimed. "Soon all the world will know the name of Ka'Narlist! I will be not a mere wizard, but a god!"

  "Notoriety does not make a god. If it did, then the courtesan Xorniba would be queen of all gods, rather than merely an expensive human whore," Mbugua observed with a candor that was becoming his habit. And why not? His life-task had been done, and done well. It would be completed by one far better suited than he. The wemic no longer cared whether the wizard took lethal offense at such remarks.