Dang-Ling, impressed by his reckless bravery, clasped his hands in excitement and held his breath.
Klang reached the floor of the stone bath, and stood, legs astride, at the center. The reptile uncoiled languidly in front of him, as high as his eyes. Its hood spread wide, a brilliant black and yellow-green. Its tongue darted. Its jaws parted displaying rows of sharp teeth, and two upper fangs of curving white porcelain. As Klang waited, the sweat drained off him and puddled at his feet.
The snake dived for his genitals, and buried its fangs deep.
Klang screamed and staggered back ripping the head away, and flung the snake across the hole. He dashed up the stairs and snatched up his sword.
“No!” screamed Dang-Ling. “If you kill it, the magic will be turned against you.”
Cupping his wound, Klang glared from the reptile to Dang-Ling, and back to the reptile. Its hooded head floated three feet above the ground. Suddenly Klang’s hands stiffened, his fingers trembled, and his sword dropped with a clatter.
Dang-Ling retired quietly to a corner to watch.
Klang looked down at his trembling hand in wonderment, as if it belonged to someone else. He squatted over his armor and clothes, and a tremor ripped through him, dropping him to his knees and fists. His body convulsed, rippled with growth, and blood trickled from his nose and ears. It was bright against his suddenly alabaster flesh. He shuddered again, then, defying the pain and blood, he Stood and dizzily picked up his things. Two inches of scaled tail protruded from his flesh just above his anus.
Klang had grown a good five inches taller and six inches thicker. Like a man asleep he forced his massive arms through the sleeves of his tunic. The sounds of ripping cloth cut the silence. Oblivious, he continued to dress with similar results. Finally, he turned his dazed eyes to Dang-Ling.
The high priest smiled. “Excellent. You are superb now.”
Klang smiled back, as if not certain why. A dull acquiescence glazed his normally bright black eyes.
Dang-Ling picked up Klang’s sword and sheath and guided him to the door, patting him soothingly on his hard rump. “Get some rest. I will see you tomorrow, at the third hour. You’ll be just fine.”
Klang nodded, took his sword and sheath, and numbly shuffled out the door as Dang-Ling closed it behind him. The high priest threw back his head and laughed deliciously, then stopped himself short as Cobra’s voluptuous, armored body emerged slowly from the empty pool. She looked exhausted. Dang-Ling composed himself and hurried to help her, murmuring praise.
In the corridor outside, Klang headed back the way he had come. The halls were empty, dark and silent except for some slight ripping/sounds. There were beads of sweat on his face, his eyes swam, and he felt sick to his stomach. It rumbled, and he passed gas with a sound like rolling thunder. He stopped, looked about, uncertain as to just what had happened, then moved on. As he stumbled out the temple door, he hiccupped and smoke drifted past his lips.
Sixty-four
Torchlight greeted the temple guards as they moved swiftly onto the stage to relieve the Skulls. Casual words were exchanged, and the Skulls strolled away chatting amicably. Their crude laughter echoed out of the tunnel, then silence rejoined the night.
In the front row of the tiered seats a small group slept entwined in ragged blankets and each other, fanatics, idlers and veteran soldiers more than willing to relinquish their own flea-ridden cots in order to obtain the best seats for tomorrow’s entertainment, or perhaps turn a nice profit for those seats in the morning.
The temple guards frowned with distaste at the crowd and at the chained man sharing the stage. He slumped in his chains. Blood was gathering at the end of his right thumb. It glistened brightly, then dropped, hitting the dirt stage with a silent splash. Another drop began to form.
Four shadowed figures on the highest row of seats also watched the chained man. A tear glistened within their darkness, then fell and splashed as silently as his blood. It belonged to Robin. She rubbed her wet eyes with the butt of her hand, whispering, “Can’t we bring him some water?”
Brown John hushed her. “Shhhh. We can not risk being discovered.”
Robin choked back the tears. “But he’s dying.”
“Shhh!” The old man lifted a finger to his lips. “Wait! Just wait!”
“But what are we waiting for? What’s supposed to happen?”
Brown John took her small hand in his and patted it. “Trust me, small one. Our chance will come.”
The torches suddenly went out, and darkness swallowed the arena. Robin buried her face against Brown John’s chest, and he gathered her close. When their eyes adjusted to the darkness, they could see the doused torches smoking in their iron crucibles at the corners of the stage. The temple guards had vanished.
Brown John whispered, “Something’s up. Listen.”
They heard a faint rustling at the back of the stage. A phantom figure was descending the red staircase. Moving with supple grace, it glided like a living shadow to the stage and started toward the chained prisoner.
Brown John pressed a hand over Robin’s mouth.
Reaching the sagging body, the dark slender figure pushed back the hood of its black cape.
Robin reeled, mumbling through the old man’s fingers, “That’s her. The snake woman! She… she was there in the laboratory… with their high priest.”
“The Queen of Serpents,” Brown John muttered.
He motioned to his sons, and the group crept silently down the steps until they could hear Cobra’s soft, mocking voice.
“Do not disdain me, Dark One. I have come to save you.”
Cobra stroked a red nail sharply across Gath’s chest, letting it linger playfully in a wound, then ran it across the steel of the helmet, making a nerve-splitting sound. The eye slits began to glow with heat, but he did not move.
Muttering ancient incantations, Cobra drew obscure signs on the helmet. Then she gripped the horns with her fingers and thrust her thumbs into the eye slits. The helmet jerked away from her. She held on and began to lift it humming softly.
Robin shuddered, and Brown John began to sweat. Suddenly he reached down and brought up his forked stick. He commanded Robin, “Stay here.”
She nodded, hugged her knees to her chest, and rocked silently as the bukko turned to his sons. They held their sticks in hand. Brown John whispered, “Dirken, you sneak around behind her. Bone, you take the right corner. I’ll take the left. Wait until I give the sign before you show yourselves.”
The brothers nodded, then the three moved down through the shadows towards the stage.
Cobra smiled as a grunt of pain escaped the helmet. She pulled harder, straining, and her eyes glazed slightly, turned dead yellow. Torchlight splashed across the helmet. She jerked around toward the light and shuddered, dropping her hold on the helmet. It sank back into place.
The torch at the far corner of the stage had been relit and a figure stood in its light, a ragged old man waving a forked stick. The stick lifted as if with its own life, and aimed itself at Cobra as the old man’s resonant voice chanted, “By fang and by venom. By the days of nine and the nights of ten, deliver the reptile, great goddess, to thy servant.”
A torch burst into flames at the opposite side and another forked stick emerged from the night, aiming itself at the Queen of Serpents. Cobra recoiled hissing to reveal needlelike fangs.
More torches blazed to life in the hands of the front row fanatics. They rushed forward rubbing their sleepy eyes as Brown John continued his chant, then saw Cobra, shrieked and charged onto the stage poking their forked sticks.
Cobra whirled for the red staircase. Dirken cut her off. The fanatics swarmed at her and struck her to the ground. She twisted, slithered, hissed. A forked stick pinned her ankle, another her wrist. She convulsed, snapped and spewed hot venom that drove them off with rags and flesh smoking. Amazed, they watched as her entire body opened up, emitting a gush of yellowish smoke; they backed away coughing, their eyes confounded. One screamed out fanatically, and they plunged into the concealing smoke pounding and prodding with their sticks.