Perhaps it is true that the gods protect fools and small children because the party met nothing more fearful during the rest of their journey than one measly foot-long centipede which quickly scurried out of their way.
Mika thought his eyes or the torch were failing when everything suddenly paled to grey. Slowly he realized that the passage had been rising for some time and that it was daylight, blessed daylight, filtering down through the tunnel ahead.
Mika's step quickened as he hurried up the passage, while Hornsbuck bellowed out some fragment of a nightmare.
"Greed! Sloth! Envy! Avarice! Hatred! Deceit! War! Obsession!" roared Hornsbuck, a litany of all the evils of the world spewing from his mouth like stones from a sling.
"Keep it down, Hornsbuck," said Mika. "No telling what's waiting out there."
"Oppression! Wickedness! Pain!" hollered Hornsbuck, and Mika shook his head and gave up, concentrating on the growing light ahead of him.
The roan snorted happily and trotted up the last few feet of the passage, the light outlining his body in a shimmering aura. RedTail and Tamlur followed, tails curled high above their backs.
Mika stood at the mouth of the passage and leaned against the marble pillar that flanked it. He rested his forehead against the cool stone, closing his eyes against the bright sunlight that filtered down in dust-filled beams from the narrow openings that circled the columned dome high above his head.
In his heart he gave thanks to the Great She Wolf for bringing him out of the dark passageways. Then he heard the roan neigh and stamp his feet in alarm and Tam growl low in his throat.
Danger! Mika lifted his head quickly and moved forward into the room, squinting his eyes against the bright light. He stepped over the hunks of broken stone that littered the floor, trying to focus. He drew his sword and blinked his watering eyes. Behind him, he heard Hornsbuck trudge into the room and stop.
"I thank you for bringing me the princess," said a creaky old voice, somewhere off to his left. Mika crouched low and whirled, facing the direction the voice had come from, holding his sword out in front of him and sweeping it back and forth.
"Put down the sword like a good lad," the voice said soothingly. "I know you don't want me to hurt you again."
Mika blinked his eyes furiously and things began to come into focus. Light and dark separated, flowed together, blurred, and then separated once again.
Outlined in the bright sunlight, dust motes raining softly on his shoulders, stood a small dark figure holding the horse's reins. The sunlight was so beautiful, the voice so gentle. And Mika was tired. Tired of danger. Tired of fighting. Tired of being afraid. All he wanted was for things to go back the way they had been, to be normal again. For one brief moment, his sword arm wavered, and he was sorely tempted to do as he was told.
But the roan had no such problems. His ears were plastered flat against his head and his eyes rolled wildly. His teeth were bared in a square-toothed grimace, and his breathing was harsh and rattled in his throat. His legs were stiff and braced hard against the pull of the bridle.
The wolves were in total agreement with the horse. Tam and RedTail circled the small dark figure, their tails curled above their backs and their ears twitched forward, alert, watchful.
Abruptly, Mika straightened up, alert now to the danger. He had no need to go closer. He knew who the old man was.
"I see you recognize me," said the little old man, his features slowly coming into focus. Mika shuddered and took a step backward.
"You have no reason to fear me," said the old man, his body still shrouded by the long, voluminous cape. "I have what I want now. Before, you made the mistake of coming between me and that which I sought. Now, thanks to your efforts, I have my prize."
"You mean the princess?" Mika blurted out in puzzlement. "Why would you want the princess?"
"It's a long story," said the old man with a dry chuckle. "A very long story. But since you've brought her to me, I suppose an explanation is the least I can offer."
"Lies! Oppression! Murder!" ranted Hornsbuck.
"Your friend understands," said the old man, nodding toward Hornsbuck, an amused look flitting across his withered face.
"This is my temple," he said, gesturing around him at the ruined building with a bony hand. "Or what little remains of it."
"There," he said, pointing at a massive block of marble that had broken in two and fallen on its side, "was the altar. Sacrifices were laid on its surface, and the floor ran deep with their blood.
"These walls," he said, waving around the apse with his bony hands, "were filled with those who worshipped me and did homage in my name in honor or in fear.
"Once, this land was nearly mine. I held it in thrall and squeezed it tight. Nearly, nearly, was it mine. Then, other forces rose up, conspired against me and broke my hold, but never, never have I forgotten. I pledged that I would return and take back what is mine. And you, lad, have given me, this day, the instrument of power," the old man said with a trembling voice as flecks of spittle sprayed from his mouth and fell to the dusty floor with a soft hiss.
"What are you talking about?" asked Mika, beginning to wonder if the little man had taken leave of his senses. Magic-user he might be, but the Great She Wolf knew that the cities were crawling with hundreds of old has-beens who bored passersby with imagined tales of their days of glory.
"You do not recognize me in this old and tired body," said the old man. "But perhaps you would know me by another name."
"And what would that be?" asked Mika, casually resting the point of his sword on the ground.
"Some know me as Iuz," said the old man, a harsh light glittering in his eyes.
Mika's blood ran cold.
"That is not a name one uses lightly in these parts," Mika said sharply.
"Well, I'm pleased to hear that," said the old man in a pleasant tone as though he were discussing the weather. Then, still smiling gently, he drew the roan closer and began to fumble with the bonds that held the princess.
"Death! Destruction! Pestilence!" thundered Hornsbuck as he turned round and round, holding up his arms and staring up at the broken dome.
"Leave her alone, old man!" cried Mika, lifting his sword once more. "Take your hands off her and stand back. I will listen to no more of your nonsense, and do not think to stun me again. I will slice you through with my blade before you can say the words."
"You do not believe me," the old man said sadly as he turned around and gazed at Mika. His expression was mournful as though Mika were a prize pupil who had suddenly fallen stupid.
"Perhaps you would recognize me if I looked different. Like this, perhaps." And the old man's body began to change. His back humped under the dark cape and then it seemed to fill out, bulging strangely in odd places.
Then the cape fell away from his head and the skull itself began to twist and move as though it were made of soft clay and being shaped by an unseen hand.
The skull lost what few threads of hair it possessed and swelled to three times greater in size. The forehead bulged grotesquely and eyebrows, great bushy red eyebrows, pushed through the skin and grew before Mika's startled eyes.
Red eyes. Red, the color of warm blood, with no pupils, looked out at Mika and seemed to gleam with an evil light.
The withered cheeks grew fat, the deep wrinkles smoothing away as though they had never been. The nose became bulbous and misshapen, and a gold stud was fixed in each nostril. The mouth formed wide and cruel and the lips fleshy and somehow obscene. The ears were mere slits in the sides of the skull.