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weight. One cursed the heat still trapped in it.
The wicker man smiled his terrible smile. He began singing a dark song in a
breathless whisper.
The obsidian serpent began to change.
Life flowed through it. It twitched. Wings unfolded, long wings of darkness
that cast shadows where no shadows should have been. Red eyes flared like
windows suddenly opened on the hottest forges of hell. Glossy talons, like
obsidian knives, slashed at the air. A terrible screech ripped from a mouth
filled with sharp, dark teeth. The thing's breath glowed, faded. It began
trying to break away, its gaze fixed on the nearest fire.
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The wicker man nodded. The shamans released it. The thing flapped shadow wings
and plunged into the fire. It wallowed like a hog in mud. The wicker man
beamed approval. His lips kept forming words.
That fire faded, consumed.
The thing leaped to another. Then to another.
The wicker man indulged it for several minutes. Then the tenor of his whisper
changed. It became demanding, commanding. The thing shrieked a protest. A
fiery haze belched from its mouth. Still screaming, it rose into the night,
following orders.
The wicker man turned his attention to the Temple of Traveler's Repose. It was
time to see by what sorcery the place kept itself inviolate.
The shamans took hold and carried him toward the temple wall.
XXVI
Bomanz's knuckles were white. They ached. He had a death grip on some
windwhale organ. The monster had dropped low enough that the flash and fire
and chaos down below gave him a clear perspective of just how far he was going
to fall if he relaxed his grip for an instant. Silent and Darling were close
by, watching. One false move and Silent would give him a kick in the butt and
a chance to see if he could fly.
It was testing time. The White Rose had orders to stop the old horror here,
where there might be help from its victims. This time she had woven him into
her plan.
In fact, he had the feeling he was the plan.
She had not explained anything. Maybe she was playing woman of mystery. Or
maybe she really did not trust him.
He was in charge-till he did something unacceptable and bit a boot with his
butt on his way to doing a swan dive into hell.
Menhirs seldom got any feeling into their speech. But the one that
materialized behind his left shoulder managed sorrow as it reported, "He's
shielded himself. Neither fire nor lightning can reach him."
The surprise had seemed a wan hope, anyway, but a long shot worth trying. "And
his followers?"
"Decimated again. The monster is unconquerable, though. He suffers, but pain
just makes him angrier."
"He's not invincible at all. As you will see if I get close to him."
Bomanz's least favorite talking buzzard cackled wildly.
"You're big-timer, eh? Ha! That thing is gonna squish you like a bug, Seth
Chalk."
Bomanz turned away from the bird. His stomach flopped as he looked down again.
The buzzard was determined to get his goat. He was amused by the bird's
optimism. He had learned self-control in a hard school. He had been married
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for thirty years.
"Isn't it time you stones made your move?" He tried a disarming smile, a man
with nothing on his mind but the issue at hand.
A little scheme had begun to fester in the back of his head. A way to put that
snide vulture in his place.
The stone said, "Soon. What will you contribute to the farce?"
Before he could temporize the buzzard shrieked, "What the hell is that?"
Bomanz whirled. That damned bird wasn't scared of anything, but it was squeaky
with fear now.
Vast dark wings spanned the night, masking the moon and stars. Fires animated
wise and evil eyes. Another limned huge needle teeth. Those malignant eyes
were fixed on those who rode the windwhale.
Silent made frantic warding signs that did no good.
Bomanz did not recognize the thing. It was nothing of the Domination, brought
out of the Barrowland. He was an expert on those and believed he knew every
rag and feather and bone that had gone into them. Neither was it something of
the Lady's empire or she would have made it her own thing during her heyday.
So it had to be loot from one of the cities desolated since the Limper had
come out of the empire.
Whatever its provenance, it was dangerous. Bomanz began putting himself into
that trance from which it was easiest for him to meet a supernatural
challenge.
As he opened himself to the energies of another level of reality, fear struck.
"Get on to the next phase!" he shouted at the scarred menhir. "Now! Recall the
mantas! Get everybody off this damned thing!"
Fire-edged wings beat the night. The red-eyed thing streaked toward the
windwhale.
Bomanz used the strongest warding spell he knew.
The monster tortured the night with its shriek of pain. But it came on, its
path deflected only slightly. The windwhale shuddered to its impact.
All across the windwhale's back talking menhirs began vanishing, leaving baby
thunderclaps.
The talking buzzard cursed like a stevedore and flailed at the air. Young
mantas screeched in fear. The Torque brothers rushed Bomanz, shouting
questions he did not understand. They were going to throw him off.
Darling stopped them with a gesture.
Below, the windwhale's belly opened and gave birth to a boiling globule of
fire. Heat rolled up its flanks. A huge shudder ran its length. Bomanz's
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