Chapter 9

“Stand aside! Let the wizard pass!” ordered the Lord of the Black Paladins.

The line of armored men slowly parted, their eyes burning with hate, clouded with fear.

Keeping the fish in his cupped hands, deathly afraid he would drop the wiggly, slimy thing, Mathew walked through their ranks, feeling their gazes pierce him like sharp steel. Trotting along behind him, carrying Zohra in his arms and panting from the strain, came the djinn.

“Madman,” gasped Usti in a low undertone that echoed resoundingly through the silent Vestry. “Where are we going?”

Mathew’s breath caught in his throat. Where were they going? He hadn’t any idea! His one thought was to get out of this nightmare chamber, but then what? Go out into the night, to face the onearmed, halfheaded nesnas?

“To the sea!” came the cool pronouncement. “The God must be taken to the sea!”

Mathew looked down the row of men that lined his path like black, armorplated columns. Standing at the end was Auda ibn Jad, sword stained crimson, more than one of his fellow knights lying wounded at his feet. Beside him, face ashen with pain and exhaustion, blood smeared over his bare chest and arms, was Khardan.

To Mathew’s wildeyed gaze, it seemed ibn Jad must have been fighting in defense of the nomad. And it was assuredly his voice that had ordered the wizard to take the fish to the sea. The sea! There were boats!

“Ghuls!” cried Usti, his round, frightened eyes looking like holes punched in bread dough.

“One worry at a time,” Mathew snapped.

He glanced warily at the Black Paladins. They were muttering darkly; he saw his death in their grim faces, saw it in the white knuckles that clenched over the hilts of swords or around the hafts of spears, saw it in the bristling mustaches, the lowering brows.

He continued walking forward.

The fish in his hands gave a spasmodic jerk, flipping out of his grasp, taking Mathew’s heart with it. Frantically he clutched at it, caught it by the tail, and closed his hands over it with a relieved sigh. The mutterings among the Paladins grew louder. He heard footsteps coming up behind him, steel sliding from a scabbard.

“Master!” whimpered Usti.

“I’ll kill it!” Mathew shouted, sweat trickling down his face. “I swear!”

And then ibn Jad was at his side, guarding his back, a dagger in one hand, his drawn sword in another.

“Let them go,” came the order. The face of the Lord was a terrifying sight—contorted with fury, pale with fear. Mathew darted a glance at the Black Sorceress lying on the floor at her husband’s feet. Her women were gathered around her, endeavoring to bring her back to consciousness. But it appeared that it would be a long time—if ever—before she spoke to her people again. “We can do nothing more,” the Lord added grimly. “My wife is the only one who could tell us if Zhakrin is truly in peril and she cannot speak.”

Catching sight of Auda ibn Jad’s face over his shoulder, Mathew saw a ghostly smile flicker across the thin, cruel lips. What the man might be thinking, Mathew couldn’t fathom. From the expression on Auda’s face, he wasn’t at all certain he wanted to know.

Mathew kept walking.

Footsteps followed him across the stone floor; the wizard could feel the thud of boots jar his body. Behind the Paladins came their menatarms, and behind them the blackrobed women.

The fish lay in his hands, its unblinking eye staring upward, the heaving of its gills growing weaker.

“If that fish dies, so do you!” hissed ibn Jad.

Mathew knew that all too well. Focusing his attention on the fish to the near total exclusion of all else, he willed the creature to live. Each breath it drew, he drew. He was only dimly aware of Khardan joining them, of the nomad taking Zohra from the arms of the djinn, of Usti’s protest. “My Prince, you can barely walk yourself!” Of Khardan’s stern reply. “She is my wife.” Of Usti’s muttering, “I shall soon have to carry both of you!” But the words drifted past the young wizard, less real than the sudden sensation of cool, night air blowing upon his face.

They were outside the Castle, moving in a torchlit procession down the pathway, and still the fish clung to life. His gaze fixed upon it, Mathew slipped and slid precariously in the loose gravel of the path until ibn Jad’s strong arm caught hold of him and braced him.

They were crossing the narrow bridge with its grinning, gruesome heads, when the fish stopped breathing. Mathew glanced in fear and consternation at ibn Jad, who shook his head grimly and hurried the wizard along, now half carrying the young man. The others followed, and the Black Paladins followed them.

Salt spray cooled Mathew’s feverish skin. He could hear the waves rolling to shore. Leaving the bridge, setting foot on the ground once more, he looked down the cliff of shining wet black rock and saw the vast ocean before him, the moon’s white light forming a glistening path on the top of the black water.

At the smell of the sea, the touch of spray upon its scales, the fish jerked and gasped, and Mathew began to breath himself. The crossing of the bridge had slowed the Black Paladins. Cautiously he began to descend the slick, steep steps.

“Hurry!” urged ibn Jad in Mathew’s ear. “The damned thing’s about finished! When we reach the sand, head for the boats!” he added in a piercing whisper.

Looking ahead, Mathew saw a line of boats drawn up in the sand near the water’s edge. But he also saw the ship, swinging at its anchor, its sailors crowded on the deck, watching the unusual activity onshore with hungry eyes.

“What about the ghuls?” returned Mathew frantically, fighting to keep calm, avoiding the longing to break into a panicstricken run. Behind him, he could hear Khardan’s labored breathing, Usti’ s frightened whimpers.

“Once we’re on the boat, I’ll take care of Sul’s demons! Whatever you do, keep hold of that fis—”

Mathew had just set foot upon the shore when, “Stop them!” The shrill cry of a woman rang like a hideous bell from the topmost turret of Castle Zhakrin.

“Too late! Run!” cried Auda, giving Mathew a rough push.

Mathew stumbled. The fish flew from his hands and plopped into the murky water.

“Stop them!” came the enraged sorceress’s command, and it was echoed by the furious shouts of the knights.

Mathew reached down into the crashing waves and began to grapple frantically for the fish.

“Never mind!” Grasping him by the back of his wet robes, Auda jerked him upright. “You can’t fool them any longer. It’s all over! Run!”

Looking behind him, Mathew saw swords flash. The Paladin had turned to face alone the onslaught of charging knights, when there came a blinding flash of light. The djinn, Sond, exploded in their midst like thunder.