The zombies marched to a slow, steady drumbeat, and the fire elementals
flowed on before them and the grasses withered where they passed.
Sam nodded to Death, and his chariot moved slowly forward, riding upon
its cushion of air. At his back, the army of Keenset stirred. Lord Kubera
slept, drugged to the sleep that is like unto death, in a hidden vault
beneath the city. The Lady Ratri mounted a black mare at the rear of the
lancers' formation.
"Their charge has been broken," said Death.
"Yes."
"All their cavalry was cast down and the beasts still rage among them.
They have not yet reformed their ranks. The Rakasha hurl avalanches like
rain from the heavens down upon their heads. Now there comes the flow of
fire."
"Yes."
"We will destroy them. Even now they see the mindless minions of
Nirriti coming upon them as a single man, all in step and without fear,
their drums keeping time, perfect and agonizing, and nothing behind their
eyes, nothing at all. Looking above their heads then, they see us here as
within a thundercloud, and they see that Death drives your chariot. Within
their hearts there comes a quickening and there is a coldness upon their
biceps and their thighs. See how the beasts pass among them?"
"Yes."
"Let there be no bugles within our ranks, Siddhartha. For this is not
battle, but slaughter."
"Yes."
The zombies slew everything they passed, and when they fell they went
down without a word, for it was all the same with them, and words mean
nothing to the unliving.
They swept the field, and fresh waves of warriors came at them. But the
cavalry had been broken. The foot soldiers could not stand before the
lancers and the Rakasha, the zombies and the infantry of Keenset.
The razor-edged battle chariot driven by Death cut through the enemy
like a flame through a field. Missiles and hurled spears turned in
mid-flight to speed off at right angles before they could touch upon the
chariot or its occupants. Dark fires danced within the eyes of Death as he
gripped the twin rings with which he directed the course of the vehicle.
Again and again, he drove down without mercy upon the enemy, and Sam's lance
darted like the tongue of a serpent as they passed through the ranks.
From somewhere, the notes of a retreat were sounded. But there were
very few who answered the call.
"Wipe your eyes, Siddhartha," said Death, "and call a new formation.
The time has come to press the attack. Manjusri of the Sword must order a
charge."
"Yes, Death, I know."
"We hold the field, but not the day. The gods are watching, judging our
strength."
Sam raised his lance in signal and there was fresh movement among the
troops. Then a new stillness hung about them. Suddenly, there was no wind,
no sound. The sky was blue. The ground was a gray-green trampled thing.
Dust, like a specter hedge, hovered in the distance.
Sam surveyed the ranks, moved his lance forward. At that moment, there
came a clap of thunder.
"The gods will enter the field," said Death, looking upward.
The thunder chariot passed overhead. No rain of destruction descended,
however.
"Why are we still alive?" asked Sam.
"I believe they would rather our defeat be more ignominious. Also, they
may be afraid to attempt to use the thunder chariot against its creator--
justly afraid."
"In that case . . ." said Sam, and he gave the signal for the troops to
charge.
The chariot bore him forward. At his back, the forces of Keenset
followed.
They cut down the stragglers. They smashed through the guard that
attempted to delay them. In the midst of a storm of arrows, they broke the
archers. Then they faced the body of the holy crusaders who had sworn to
level the city of Keenset.
Then there came the notes of Heaven upon a trumpet.
The opposing lines of human warriors parted.
The fifty demigods rode forth.
Sam raised his lance.
"Siddhartha," said Death, "Lord Kalkin was never beaten in battle."
"I know."
"I have with me the Talisman of the Binder. That which was destroyed
upon the pyre at Worldsend was a counterfeit. I retained the original to
study it. I never had the chance. Hold but a moment and I will brace it
about you."
Sam raised his arms and Death clasped the belt of shells around his
waist.
He gave sign then to the forces of Keenset to halt.
Death drove him forward, alone, to face the half-gods.
About the heads of some there played the nimbus of early Aspect. Others
bore strange weapons to focus their strange Attributes. Fires came down and
licked about the chariot. Winds lashed at it. Great smashing noises fell
upon it. Sam gestured with his lance and the first three of his opponents
reeled and fell from the backs of their slizzards.
Then Death drove his chariot among them.
Its edges are razors and its speed three times that of a horse and
twice that of a slizzard.
A mist sprang up about him as he rode, a mist tinged with blood. Heavy
missiles sped toward him and vanished to one side or the other. Ultrasonic
screams assailed his ears, but somehow were partly deadened.
His face expressionless, Sam raised his lance high above his head.
A look of sudden fury crossed over his face, and the lightnings leapt
from its tip.
Slizzards and riders baked and crisped.
The smell of charred flesh came to his nostrils.
He laughed, and Death wheeled the chariot for another pass.
"Are you watching me?" Sam screamed at the heavens. "Watch on, then!
And watch out! You just made a mistake!"
"Don't!" said Death. "It is too soon! Never mock a god until he is
passed!"
And the chariot swept through the ranks of the demigods once again, and
none could touch upon it.
Trumpet notes filled the air, and the holy army rushed to succor its
champions.
The warriors of Keenset moved forward to engage them.
Sam stood in the chariot and the missiles fell heavy about it, always
missing. Death drove him through the ranks of the enemy, now like a wedge,
now like a rapier. He sang as he moved, and his lance was the tongue of a
serpent, sometimes crackling as it fell with bright flashes. The Talisman
glowed with a pale fire about his waist.
"We'll take them!" he said.
"There are only demigods and men upon the field," said Death. "They are
still testing our strength. There are very few who remember the full power
of Kalkin."
"The full power of Kalkin?" asked Sam. "That has never been released,
oh Death. Not in all the ages of the world. Let them come against me now and
the heavens will weep upon their bodies and the Vedra run the color of
blood! . . . Do you hear me? Do you hear me, gods? Come against me! I
challenge you, here upon this field! Meet me with your strength, in this
place!"
"No!" said Death. "Not yet!"
Overhead, the thunder chariot passed once again. Sam raised his lance
and pyrotechnic hell broke loose about the passing vessel.
"You should not have let them know you could do that! Not yet!"
The voice of Taraka came to him then, across the din of the battle and
the song within his brain.
"They come up the river now, oh Binder! And another party assails the
gates of the city!"
"Call then upon Dalissa to rise up and make the Vedra to boil with the
power of the Glow! Take you of the Rakasha to the gates of Keenset and
destroy the invader!"
"I hear, Binder!" and Taraka was gone.
A beam of blinding light fell from the thunder chariot and cut through
the ranks of the defenders.
"The time has come," said Death, and he waved his cloak in gesture.
In the rearmost rank, the Lady Ratri stood up in the stirrups of her
mount, the black mare. She raised the black veil that she wore over her
armor.
There were screams from both sides as the sun covered its face and
darkness descended upon the field. The stalk of light vanished from beneath
the thunder chariot and the burning ceased.
Only a faint phosphorescence, with no apparent source, occurred about
them. This happened as the Lord Mara swept onto the field in his cloudy
chariot of colors, drawn by the horses who vomited rivers of smoking blood.
Sam headed toward him, but a great body of warriors interposed
themselves; and before they won through, Mara had driven across the field,
slaying everyone in his path.
Sam raise his lance and scowled, but his target blurred and shifted;
and the lightnings always fell behind or to the side.
Then, in the distance, within the river, a soft light began. It pulsed
warmly, and something like a tentacle seemed to wave for a moment above the
surface of the waters.
Sounds of fighting came from the city. The air was full of demons. The
ground seemed to move beneath the feet of the armies.
Sam raised his lance and a jagged line of light ran up into the
heavens, provoking a dozen more to descend upon the field.
More beasts growled, coughed and wailed, racing through both ranks,
killing as they passed those of both sides.
The zombies continued to slay, beneath the prodding of the dark
sergeants, to the steady beating of the drums; and fire elementals clung to
the breasts of the corpses, as though feeding.
"We have broken the demigods," said Sam. "Let us try Lord Mara next."
They sought him across the field, amidst screams and wails, crossing
over those who were soon to become corpses and those who already were.
When they saw the colors of his chariot, they gave chase.
He turned and faced them finally, in a corridor of darkness, the sounds
of the battle dim and distant. Death drew rein also, and they stared across
the night into each other's glowing eyes.
"Will you stand to battle, Mara?" cried Sam. "Or must we run you down
like a dog?"
"Speak not to me of your kin, the hound and the bitch, oh Binder!" he
answered. "It is you, isn't it, Kalkin? That's your belt. This is your sort
of war. Those were your lightnings striking friend and foe alike. You did
live, somehow, eh?"
"It is I," said Sam, leveling his lance.
"And the carrion god to drive your wagon!"
Death raised his left hand, palm forward.
"I promise you death, Mara," he said. "If not by the hand of Kalkin,
then by my own. If not today, then another day. But it is between us also,
now."
To the left, the pulsing in the river became more and more frequent.
Death leaned forward and the chariot sped toward Mara.
The horses of the Dreamer reared and blew fire from their nostrils.
They leapt ahead.
The arrows of Rudra sought them in the dark, but these were also turned
aside as they blazed toward Death and his chariot. They exploded upon either
side, adding for a moment to the faint illumination.
In the distance, elephants lumbered, raced and squealed, pursued by the
Rakasha across the plains.
There came a mighty roaring sound.
Mara grew into a giant, and his chariot was a mountain. His horses
spanned eternities as they galloped forward. Lightning leapt from Sam's
lance, like spray from a fountain. A blizzard suddenly swirled about him,
and the cold of interstellar space itself entered into his bones.
At the last possible instant, Mara swerved his chariot and leapt down
from it.
They struck it broadside and there came a grinding sound from beneath
them as they settled slowly to the ground.
By then the roaring was deafening and the pulses of light from the
river had grown into a steady glow. A wave of steaming water swept across
the field as the Vedra overflowed its banks.
There were more screams, and the clash of arms continued. Faintly, the
drums of Nirriti still beat within the darkness, and there came a strange
sound from overhead as the thunder chariot sped toward the ground.
"Where'd he go?" cried Sam.
"To hide," said Death. "But he cannot hide forever."
"Damn it! Are we winning or losing?"
"That's a good question. I don't know the answer, though."
The waters foamed about the grounded chariot.
"Can you get us moving again?"
"Not in this darkness, with the water all around us."
"Then what do we do now?"
"Cultivate patience and smoke cigarettes." He leaned back and struck a
light.
After a time, one of the Rakasha came and hovered in the air above
them.
"Binder!" reported the demon. "The new attackers of the city wear upon
them that-which-repels!"
Sam raised his lance and a line of lightning fled from its point.
For one photoflash of an instant, the field was illuminated.
The dead lay everywhere. Small groups of men huddled together. Some lay
twisting in combat upon the ground. The bodies of animals were strewn among
them. A few large cats still wandered, feeding. The fire elementals had fled
from the water, which had coated the fallen with mud and soaked those who
still could stand. Broken chariots and dead slizzards and horses made mounds
upon the field. Across the scene, empty-eyed and continuing to follow
orders, the zombies wandered, slaying anything living that moved before
them. In the distance, one drum still beat, with an occasional falter. From
the city there came the sounds of continued battle.
"Find the lady in black," said Sam to the Rakasha, "and tell her to
break the darkness."
"Yes," said the demon, and fled back toward the city.
The sun shone again and Sam shielded his eyes against it.
The carnage was even worse under the blue sky and the golden bridge.
Across the field, the thunder chariot rested upon high ground.
The zombies slew the last of the men in sight. Then, as they turned to
seek more life, the drumming ceased and they fell to the ground themselves.
Sam stood with Death within the chariot. They looked about them for
signs of life.
"Nothing moves," said Sam. "Where are the gods?"
"Perhaps in the thunder chariot."
The Rakasha came to them once more.
"The defenders cannot hold the city," he reported.
"Have the gods joined in that assault?"
"Rudra is there, and his arrows work much havoc."
"The Lord Mara. Brahma, too, I think-- and there are many others. There
is much confusion. I hurried."
"Where is the Lady Ratri?"
"She entered into Keenset and abides there in her Temple."
"Where are the rest of the gods?"
"I do not know."
"I will go on to the city," said Sam, "and aid in its defense."
"And I to the thunder chariot," said Death, "to take it and use it
against the enemy-- if it can still be used. If not, there is still Garuda."
"Yes," said Sam, and levitated.
Death sprang down from the chariot. "Fare thee well."
"Thou also."
They crossed the place of carnage, each in his own fashion.
He climbed the small rise, his red leather boots soundless on the turf.
He swept his scarlet cloak back over his right shoulder and surveyed
the thunder chariot.
"It was damaged by the lightnings."
"Yes," he agreed.
He looked back toward the tail assembly, at the one who had spoken.
His armor shone like bronze, but it was not bronze.
It was worked about with the forms of many serpents.
He wore the horns of a bull upon his burnished helm, and in his left
hand he held a gleaming trident.
"Brother Agni, you have come up in the world."
"I am no longer Agni, but Shiva, Lord of Destruction."
"You wear his armor upon a new body and you carry his trident. But none
could master the trident of Shiva so quickly. This is why you wear the white
gauntlet on your right hand, and the goggles upon your brow."
Shiva reached up and lowered the goggles over his eyes.
"It is true, I know. Throw away your trident, Agni. Give me your glove
and your wand, your belt and your goggles."
He shook his head.
"I respect your power, deathgod, your speed and your strength, your
skill. But you stand too far away for any of these to aid you now. You
cannot come at me but I will burn you before you reach me here. Death, you
shall die."
He reached for the wand at his belt.
"You seek to turn the gift of Death against its giver?" The blood-red
scimitar came into his hand as he spoke.
"Good-bye, Dharma. Your days are come to an end."
He drew the wand.
"In the name of a friendship which once existed," said the one in red,
"I will give you your life if you surrender to me."
The wand wavered.
"You killed Rudra to defend the name of my wife."
"It was to preserve the honor of the Lokapalas that I did it. Now I am
God of Destruction, and one with the Trimurti!"
He pointed the fire wand, and Death swirled his scarlet cloak before
him.
There came a flash of light so blinding that two miles away upon the
walls of Keenset the defenders saw it and wondered.
The invaders had entered Keenset. There were fires now, screams, and
the blows of metal upon wood, metal upon metal.
The Rakasha pushed down buildings upon the invaders with whom they
could not close. The invaders as well as the defenders were few in number.
The main bodies of both forces had perished upon the plains.
Sam stood atop the highest tower of the Temple and stared down into the
falling city.
"I could not save you, Keenset," he stated. "I tried, but was not
sufficient."
Far below, in the street, Rudra strung his bow.
Seeing him, Sam raised his lance.
The lightnings fell upon Rudra and the arrow exploded in their midst.
When the air cleared, where Rudra had been standing there was now a
small crater in the center of a space of charred ground.
Lord Vayu appeared upon a distant rooftop and called forth the winds to
fan the flames. Sam raised his lance once more, but then a dozen Vayus stood
upon a dozen rooftops.
"Mara!" said Sam. "Show yourself. Dreamer! It you dare!"
There was laughter all around him.
"When I am ready, Kalkin," came the voice, out of the smoky air, "I
will dare. The choice, though, is mine to make. . .. Are you not dizzy? What
would happen if you were to cast yourself down toward the ground? Would the
Rakasha come to bear you up? Would your demons save you?"
Lightnings fell upon all the buildings near the Temple then, but above
the noise came the laughter of Mara. It faded away into the distance as
fresh fires crackled.
Sam seated himself and watched the city burn. The sounds of fighting
died down and ceased. There was only flame.
A sharp pain came and went in his head. Then it came and would not go.
Then it racked his entire body, and he cried out.
Brahma, Vayu, Mara and four demigods stood below in the street.
He tried to raise his lance, but his hand shook so that it fell from
his grasp, rattled on brick, was gone.
The scepter that is a skull and a wheel was pointed in his direction.
"Come down, Sam!" said Brahma, moving it slightly so that the pains
shifted and burned. "You and Ratri are the only ones left alive! You are the
last! Surrender!"
He struggled to his feet and clasped his hands upon his glowing belt.
He swayed and said the words through clenched teeth:
"Very well! I shall come down, as a bomb into your midst!"
But then the sky was darkened, lightened, darkened.
A mighty cry rose above the sound of the flames.
"It is Garuda!" said Mara.
"Why should Vishnu come-- now?"
"Garuda was stolen! Do you forget?"
The great Bird dived upon the burning city, like a titan phoenix toward
its flaming nest.
Sam twisted his head upward and saw the hood suddenly fall over
Garuda's eyes. The Bird fluttered his wings, then plummeted toward the gods,
where they stood before the Temple.
"Red!" cried Mara. "The rider! He wears red!"
Brahma spun and turned the screaming scepter, holding it with both
hands toward the head of the diving Bird.
Mara gestured, and Garuda's wings seemed to take fire.
Vayu raised both arms, and a wind like a hurricane hammered the mount
of Vishnu, whose beak smashes chariots.
He cried once more, opening his wings, slowing his descent. The Rakasha
then rushed about his head, urging him downward with buffets and stings. He
slowed, slowed, but could not stop.
The gods scattered.
Garuda struck the ground and the ground shuddered.
From among the feathers of his back, Yama came forth, blade in hand,
took three steps, and fell to the ground. Mara emerged from a ruin and
struck him across the back of his neck, twice, with the edge of his hand.
Sam sprang before the second blow descended, but he did not reach the
ground in time. The scepter screamed once more and everything spun about
him. He fought to break his fall. He slowed.
The ground was forty feet below him-- thirty-- twenty . . . The ground
was clouded by a blood-dimmed haze, then black.
"Lord Kalkin has finally been beaten in battle," someone said softly.
Brahma, Mara, and two demigods named Bora and Tikan were the only ones
who remained to bear Sam and Yama from the dying city of Keenset by the
river Vedra. The Lady Ratri walked before them, a cord looped about her
neck.
They took Sam and Yama to the thunder chariot, which was even more
damaged than it had been when they left it, having a great gaping hole in
its right side and part of its tail assembly missing. They secured their
prisoners in chains, removing the Talisman of the Binder and the crimson
cloak of Death. They sent a message then to Heaven, and after a time sky
gondolas came to return them to the Celestial City.
"We have won," said Brahma. "Keenset is no more."
"A costly victory, I think," said Mara.
"But we have won!"
"And the Black One stirs again."
"He sought but to test our strength."
"And what must he think of it? We lost an entire army? And even gods
have died this day."
"We fought with Death, the Rakasha, Kalkin, Night and the Mother of the
Glow. Nirriti will not lift up his hand against us again, not after a
winning such as this."
"Mighty is Brahma," said Mara, and turned away.
The Lords of Karma were called to stand in judgment of the captives.
The Lady Ratri was banished from the City and sentenced to walk the
world as a mortal, always to be incarnated into middle-aged bodies of more
than usually plain appearance, bodies that could not bear the full power of
her Aspect or Attributes. She was shown this mercy because she was judged an
incidental accomplice only, one misled by Kubera, whom she had trusted.
When they sent after Lord Yama, to bring him to judgment, he was found
to be dead in his cell. Within his turban, there had been a small metal box.
This box had exploded.
The Lords of Karma performed an autopsy and conferred.
"Why did he not take poison if he wished to die?" Brahma had asked. "It
would be easier to conceal a pill than that box."
"It is barely possible," said one of the Lords of Karma, "that
somewhere in the world he had another body, and that he sought to
transmigrate by means of a broadcast unit, which was set to destroy itself
after use."
"Could this thing be done?"
"No, of course not. Transfer equipment is bulky and complicated. But
Yama boasted he could do anything. He once tried to convince me that such a
device could be built. But the contact between the two bodies must be direct
and by means of many leads and cables. And no unit that tiny could have
generated sufficient power."
"Who built you the psych-probe?" asked Brahma.
"Lord Yama."
"And Shiva, the thunder chariot? And Agni, the fire wand? Rudra, his
terrible bow? The Trident? The Bright Spear?"
"Yama."
"I should like to advise you then, that at approximately the same time
as that tiny box must have been operating, a great generator, as of its own
accord, turned itself on within the Vasty Hall of Death. It functioned for
less than five minutes, and then turned itself off again."
"Broadcast power?"
Brahma shrugged.
"It is time to sentence Sam."
This was done. And since he had died once before, without much effect,
it was decided that a sentence of death was not in order.
Accordingly, he was transmigrated. Not into another body.
A radio tower was erected, Sam was placed under sedation, transfer
leads were attached in the proper manner, but there was no other body. They
were attached to the tower's converter.
His atman was projected upward through the opened dome, into the great
magnetic cloud that circled the entire planet and was called the Bridge of
the Gods.
Then he was given the unique distinction of receiving a second funeral
in Heaven. Lord Yama received his first; and Brahma, watching the smoke
arise from the pyres, wondered where he really was.
"The Buddha has gone to nirvana," said Brahma. "Preach it in the
Temples! Sing it in the streets'. Glorious was his passing! He has reformed
the old religion, and we are better now than ever before! Let all who would
think otherwise remember Keenset!"
This thing was done also.
But they never found Lord Kubera.
The demons were free.
Nirriti was strong.
And elsewhere in the world there were those who remembered bifocal
glasses and toilets that flushed, petroleum chemistry and internal
combustion engines, and the day the sun had hidden its face from the justice
of Heaven.
Vishnu was heard to say that the wilderness had come into the City at
last.
Another name by which he is sometimes called is Maitreya, meaning Lord
of Light. After his return from the Golden Cloud, he journeyed to the Palace
of Kama at Khaipur, where he planned and built his strength against the Day
of the Yuga. A sage once said that one never sees the Day of the Yuga, but
only knows it when it is past. For it dawns like any other day and passes in
the same wise, recapitulating the history of the world.
He is sometimes called Maitreya, meaning Lord of Light. . .
The world is a fire of sacrifice, the sun its fuel, sunbeams its smoke,
the day its flames, the points of the compass its cinders and sparks. In
this fire the gods offer faith as libation. Out of this offering King Moon
is born.
Rain, oh Gautama, is the fire, the year its fuel, the clouds its smoke,
the lightning its flame, cinders, sparks. In this fire the gods offer King
Moon as libation. Out of this offering the rain is born.
The world, oh Gautama, is the fire, the earth its fuel, fire its smoke,
the night its flame, the moon its cinders, the stars its sparks. In this
fire the gods offer rain as libation. Out of this offering food is produced.
Man, oh Gautama, is the fire, his open mouth its fuel, his breath its
smoke, his speech its flame, his eye its cinders, his ear its sparks. In
this fire the gods offer food as libation. Out of this offering the power of
generation is born.
Woman, oh Gautama, is the fire, her form its fuel, her hair its smoke,
her organs its flame, her pleasures its cinders and its sparks. In this
flame the gods offer the power of generation as libation. Out of this
offering a man is born. He lives for so long as he is to live.
When a man dies, he is carried to be offered in the fire. The fire
becomes his fire, the fuel his fuel, the smoke his smoke, the flame his
flame, the cinders his cinders, the sparks his sparks. In this fire the gods
offer the man as libation. Out of this offering the man emerges in radiant
splendor.
Brihadaranyaka Upanishad (VI, ii, 9-14)
In a high, blue palace of slender spires and filigreed gates, where the
tang of salt sea spray and the crying of sea-wights came across the bright
air to season the senses with life and delight. Lord Nirriti the Black spoke
with the man who had been brought to him.
"Sea captain, what is your name?" he asked.
"Olvagga, Lord," answered the captain. "Why did you kill my crew and
let me live?"
"Because I would question you, Captain Olvagga."
"Regarding what?"
"Many things. Things such as an old sea captain might know, through his
travels. How stands my control of the southern sea lanes?"
"Stronger than I thought, or you'd not have me here."
"Many others are afraid to venture out, are they not?"
"Yes."
Nirriti moved to a window overlooking the sea. He turned his back upon
his captive. After a time, he spoke again:
"I hear there has been much scientific progress in the north since, oh,
the battle of Keenset."
"I, too, have heard this. Also, I know it to be true. I have seen a
steam engine. The printing press is now a part of life. Dead slizzard legs
are made to jump with galvanic currents. A better grade of steel is now
being forged. The microscope and the telescope have been rediscovered."
Nirriti turned back to him, and they studied one another.
Nirriti was a small man, with a twinkling eye, a facile smile, dark
hair, restrained by a silver band, an upturned nose and eyes the color of
his palace. He wore black and lacked a suntan.
"Why do the Gods of the City fail to stop this thing?"
"I feel it is because they are weakened, if that is what you want to
hear, Lord. Since the disaster by the Vedra they have been somewhat afraid
to squelch the progress of mechanism with violence. It has also been said
that there is internal strife in the City, between the demigods and what
remains of their elders. Then there is the matter of the new religion. Men
no longer fear Heaven so much as they used to. They are more willing to
defend themselves; and now that they are better equipped, the gods are less
willing to face them."
"Then Sam is winning. Across the years, he is beating them."
"Yes, Renfrew. I feel this to be true."
Nirriti glanced at the two guards who flanked Olvagga.
"Leave," he ordered. Then, when they had gone,
"You know me?"
"Yes, chaplin. For I am Jan Olvegg, captain of the Star of India."
"Olvegg. That seems moderately impossible."
"True, nevertheless. I received this now ancient body the day Sam broke
the Lords of Karma at Mahartha. I was there."
"One of the First, and-- yes!-- a Christian!"
"Occasionally, when I run out of Hindi swear words."
Nirriti placed a hand on his shoulder. "Then your very being must ache
at this blasphemy they have wrought!"
"I'm none too fond of them-- nor they of me."
"I daresay. But of Sam-- he did the same thing-- compounding this
plurality of heresies-- burying the true Word even deeper . . ."
"A weapon, Renfrew," said Olvegg. "Nothing more. I'm sure he didn't
want to be a god any more than you or I."
"Perhaps. But I wish he had chosen a different weapon. If he wins their
souls are still lost."
Olvegg shrugged. "I'm no theologian, such as yourself . . ."
"But will you help me? Over the ages I have built up a mighty force. I
have men and I have machines. You say our enemies are weakened. My soulless
ones-- born not of man or woman-- they are without fear. I have sky
gondolas-- many. I can reach their City at the Pole. I can destroy their
Temples here in the world. I think the time is at hand to cleanse the world
of this abomination. The true faith must come again! Soon! It must be soon .
. ."
"As I said, I'm no theologian. But I, too, would see the City fall,"
said Olvegg. "I will help you, in any way I can."
"Then we will take a few of their cities and defile their Temples, to
see what action this provokes."
Olvegg nodded.
"You will advise me. You will provide moral support," said Nirriti, and
bowed his head.
"Join me in prayer," he ordered.
The old man stood for a long while outside the Palace of Kama in
Khaipur, staring at its marble pillars. Finally, a girl took pity on him and
brought him bread and milk. He ate the bread.
"Drink the milk, too, grandfather. It is nourishing and will help
sustain thy flesh."
"Damn!" said the old man. "Damn milk! And damn my flesh! My spirit,
also, for that matter!"
The girl drew back. "That is hardly the proper reply upon the receipt
of charity."
"It is not your charity to which I object, wench. It is your taste in
beverages. Could you not spare me a draught of the foulest wine from the
kitchen? . . . That which the guests have disdained to order and the cook
will not even slop over the cheapest pieces of meat? I crave the squeezings
of grapes, not cows."
"Perhaps I could bring you a menu? Depart! Before I summon a servant!"
He stared into her eyes. "Take not offense, lady, I pray. Begging comes
hard to me."
She looked into his pitch-dark eyes in the midst of a ruin of wrinkles
and tan. His beard was streaked with black. The tiniest smile played about
the corners of his lips.
"Well. . . follow me around to the side. I'll take you into the kitchen
and see what can be found. I don't really know why I should, though."
His fingers twitched as she turned, and his smile widened as he
followed, watching her walk.
"Because I want you to," he said.
Taraka of the Rakasha was uneasy. Flitting above the clouds that moved
through the middle of the day, he thought upon the ways of power. He had
once been mightiest. In the days before the binding there had been none who
could stand against him. Then Siddhartha the Binder had come. He had known
of him earlier, known of him as Kalkin and had known him to be strong.
Sooner or later, he had realized, they would have to meet, that he might
test the power of that Attribute which Kalkin was said to have raised up.
When they had come together, on that mighty, gone day when the mountaintops
had flared with their fury, on that day the Binder had won. And in their
second encounter, ages afterward, he had somehow beaten him even more fully.
But he had been the only one, and now he was gone from out the world. Of all
creatures, only the Binder had bested the Lord of Hellwell. Then the gods
had come to challenge his power. They had been puny in the early days,
struggling to discipline their mutant powers with drugs, hypnosis,
meditation, neurosurgery-- forging them into Attributes-- and across the
ages, those powers had grown. Four of them had entered Hellwell, only four,
and his legions had not been able to repel them. The one called Shiva was
strong, but the Binder had later slain him. This was as it should be, for
Taraka recognized the Binder as a peer. The woman he dismissed. She was only
a woman, and she had required assistance from Yama. But Lord Agni, whose
soul had been one bright, blinding flame-- this one he had almost feared. He
recalled the day Agni had walked into the palace at Palamaidsu, alone, and
had challenged him. He could not stop that one, though he had tried, and he
had seen the palace itself destroyed by the power of his fires. And nothing
in Hellwell could stop him either. He had made a promise then to himself
that he must test this power, as he had that of Siddhartha, to defeat it or
be bound by it. But he never did. The Lord of Fires had fallen himself,
before the One in Red-- who had been the fourth in Hellwell-- who had
somehow turned his fires back upon him, that day beside the Vedra in the
battle for Keenset. This meant that he was the greatest. For had not even
the Binder warned him of Yama-Dharma, god of Death? Yes, the one whose eyes
drink life was the mightiest yet remaining in the world. He had almost
fallen to his strength within the thunder chariot. He had tested this
strength once, briefly, but had relented because they were allies in that
fight. It was told that Yama had died afterward, in the City. Later, it was
told that he still walked the world. As Lord of the Dead it was said that he
could not die himself, save by his own choosing. Taraka accepted this as a
fact, knowing what this acceptance meant. It meant that he, Taraka, would
return to the south, to the island of the blue palace, where the Lord of
Evil, Nirriti the Black, awaited his answer. He would give his assent.
Starting at Mahartha and working northward from the sea, the Rakasha would
add their power to his dark own, destroying the Temples of the six largest
cities of the southwest, one after another, filling the streets of those
cities with the blood of their citizens and the nameless legions of the
Black One-- until the gods came to their defense, and so met their doom. If
the gods failed to come, then their true weakness would be known. The
Rakasha would then storm Heaven, and Nirriti would level the Celestial City;
Milehigh Spire would fall, the dome would be shattered, the great white cats
of Kaniburrha would look upon ruins, and the pavilions of the gods and the
demigods would be covered with the snows of the Pole. And all of this for
one reason, really-- aside from relieving the boredom, aside from hastening
the final days of gods and of men in the world of the Rakasha. Whenever
there is great fighting and the doing of mighty deeds and bloody deeds and
flaming deeds-- he comes, Taraka knew-- the One in Red comes from somewhere,
always, for his Aspect draws him to the realm that is his. Taraka knew he
would search, wait, do anything, for however long it took, until that day he
stared into the black fires that burn behind the eyes of Death. . . .
Brahma stared at the map, then looked back to the screen of crystal,
about which a bronze Naga twisted, tail in teeth.
"Burning, oh priest?"
"Burning, Brahma . . . the whole warehouse district!"
"Order the people to quench the fires."
"They are already doing so, Mighty One."
"Then why trouble me with the matter?"
"There is fear. Great One."
"Fear? Fear of what?"
"The Black One, whose name I may not speak in your presence, whose
strength has grown steadily in the south, he who controls the sea lanes,
cutting off trade."
"Why should you be afraid to speak the name of Nirriti before me? I
know of the Black One. Do you feel he started the fires?"
"Yes, Great One-- or rather some accursed one in his pay did it. There
is much talk that he seeks to cut us off from the rest of the world, to
drain our wealth, destroy our stores and weaken our spirits, because he
plans-- "
"To invade you, of course."
"You have said it. Potent One."
"It may be true, my priest. So tell me, do you feel your gods will not
stand by you if the Lord of Evil attacks?"
"There has never been any doubt. Most Puissant One. We simply wanted to
remind you of the possibility and renew our perpetual supplication for mercy
and divine protection."
"You have made your point, priest. Fear not."
Brahma ended the transmission. "He will attack."
"Of course."
"And how strong is he, I wonder? No one really knows how strong he is,
Ganesha. Do they?"
"You ask me, my Lord? Your humble policy adviser?"
"I do not see anyone else present, humble godmaker. Do you know of
anyone who might have information?"
"No, Lord. I do not. Everyone avoids the foul one as though he were the
real death. Generally, he is. As you are aware, the three demigods I sent
south did not return."
"They were strong, too, whatever their names, weren't they? How long
ago was that?"
"The last was a year ago, when we sent the new Agni."
"Yes, he wasn't very good, though-- still used incendiary grenades . .
. but strong."
"Morally, perhaps. When there are fewer gods one must settle for
demigods."
"In the old days, I would have taken the thunder chariot-- "
"In the old days there was no thunder chariot. Lord Yama-- "
"Silence! We have a thunder chariot now. I think the tall man of smoke
who wears a wide hat shall bend above Nirriti's palace."
"Brahma, I think Nirriti can stop the thunder chariot."
"Why so?"
"From some firsthand reports I've heard, I believe that he has used
guided missiles against warships sent after his brigands."
"Why did you not tell me of this sooner?"
"They are very recent reports. This is the first chance I have had to
broach the subject."
"Then you do not feel we should attack?"
"No. Wait. Let him move first, that we may judge his strength."
"This would involve sacrificing Mahartha, would it not?"
"So? Have you never seen a city fall? . . . How will Mahartha benefit
him, by itself, and for a time? If we cannot reclaim it, then let the man of
smoke nod his wide white hat-- over Mahartha."
"You are right. It will be worth it, to assess his power properly and
to drain a portion of it away. In the meantime, we must prepare."
"Yes. What will your order be?"
"Alert all the powers in the City. Recall Lord Indra from the eastern
continent, at once!"
"Thy will be done."
"And alert the other five cities of the river -- Lananda, Khaipur,
Kilbar-- "
"Immediately."
"Go then!"
"I am already gone."
Time like an ocean, space like its water, Sam in the middle, standing,
decided.
"God of Death," he called out, "enumerate our strengths."
Yama stretched and yawned, then rose from the scarlet couch upon which
he had been dozing, almost invisible. He crossed the room, stared into Sam's
eyes. "Without raising Aspect, here is my Attribute."
Sam met his gaze, held it. "This is in answer to my question?"
"Partly," replied Yama, "but mainly it was to test your own power. It
appears to be returning. You bore my death-gaze longer than any mortal
could."
"I know my power is returning. I can feel it. Many things are returning
now. During the weeks we have dwelled here in Ratri's palace I have
meditated upon my past lives. They were not all failures, deathgod. I have
decided this today. Though Heaven has beaten me at every turn, each victory
has cost them much."
"Yes, it would seem you are rather a man of destiny. They are actually
weaker now than they were the day you challenged their power at Mahartha.
They are also relatively weaker. This is because men are stronger. The gods
broke Keenset, but they did not break Acceleration. Then they tried to bury
Buddhism within the known teachings, but they could not. I cannot really say
whether your religion helped with the plot of this tale you are writing, by
encouraging Acceleration in any way whatsoever, but then none of the gods
could say either. It served as a good fog, though-- it diverted their
attention from mischief they might have been doing, and since it did happen
to take as a teaching, their efforts against it served to arouse some
anti-Deicrat sentiment. You would seem inspired if you didn't seem shrewd."
"Thank you. Do you want my blessing?"
"No, do you want mine?"
"Perhaps, Death, later. But you did not answer my question. Please tell
me what strengths lie with us."
"Very well. Lord Kubera will arrive shortly. . ."
"Kubera? Where is he?"
"He has dwelled in hiding over the years, leaking scientific knowledge
into the world."
"Over so many years? His body must be ancient! How could he have
managed?"
"Do you forget Narada?"
"My old physician from Kapil?"
"The same. When you dispersed your lancers after your battle in
Mahartha, he retreated into the backlands with a service of retainers. He
packed with him all the equipment you had taken from the Hall of Karma. I
located him many years ago. Subsequent to Keenset, after my escape from
Heaven by the Way of the Black Wheel, I brought Kubera out from his vault
beneath that fallen city. He later allied himself with Narada, who now runs
a bootleg body shop in the hills. They work together. We have set up several
others in various places, also."
"And Kubera comes? Good!"
"And Siddhartha is still Prince of Kapil. A call for troops from that
principality would still be heard. We have sounded them out."
"A handful, probably. But still good to know-- yes."
"And Lord Krishna."
"Krishna? What is he doing on our side? Where is he?"
"He was here. I found him the day we arrived. He had just moved in with
one of the girls. Quite pathetic."
"How so?"
"Old. Pitifully old and weak, but still a drunken lecher. His Aspect
served him still, however, periodically summoning up some of his ancient
charisma and a fraction of his colossal vitality. He had been expelled from
Heaven after Keenset, but because he would not fight against Kubera and
myself, as did Agni. He has wandered the world for over half a century,
drinking and loving and playing his pipes and growing older. Kubera and I
have tried several times to locate him, but he did considerable traveling.
This is generally a requirement for renegade fertility deities."
flowed on before them and the grasses withered where they passed.
Sam nodded to Death, and his chariot moved slowly forward, riding upon
its cushion of air. At his back, the army of Keenset stirred. Lord Kubera
slept, drugged to the sleep that is like unto death, in a hidden vault
beneath the city. The Lady Ratri mounted a black mare at the rear of the
lancers' formation.
"Their charge has been broken," said Death.
"Yes."
"All their cavalry was cast down and the beasts still rage among them.
They have not yet reformed their ranks. The Rakasha hurl avalanches like
rain from the heavens down upon their heads. Now there comes the flow of
fire."
"Yes."
"We will destroy them. Even now they see the mindless minions of
Nirriti coming upon them as a single man, all in step and without fear,
their drums keeping time, perfect and agonizing, and nothing behind their
eyes, nothing at all. Looking above their heads then, they see us here as
within a thundercloud, and they see that Death drives your chariot. Within
their hearts there comes a quickening and there is a coldness upon their
biceps and their thighs. See how the beasts pass among them?"
"Yes."
"Let there be no bugles within our ranks, Siddhartha. For this is not
battle, but slaughter."
"Yes."
The zombies slew everything they passed, and when they fell they went
down without a word, for it was all the same with them, and words mean
nothing to the unliving.
They swept the field, and fresh waves of warriors came at them. But the
cavalry had been broken. The foot soldiers could not stand before the
lancers and the Rakasha, the zombies and the infantry of Keenset.
The razor-edged battle chariot driven by Death cut through the enemy
like a flame through a field. Missiles and hurled spears turned in
mid-flight to speed off at right angles before they could touch upon the
chariot or its occupants. Dark fires danced within the eyes of Death as he
gripped the twin rings with which he directed the course of the vehicle.
Again and again, he drove down without mercy upon the enemy, and Sam's lance
darted like the tongue of a serpent as they passed through the ranks.
From somewhere, the notes of a retreat were sounded. But there were
very few who answered the call.
"Wipe your eyes, Siddhartha," said Death, "and call a new formation.
The time has come to press the attack. Manjusri of the Sword must order a
charge."
"Yes, Death, I know."
"We hold the field, but not the day. The gods are watching, judging our
strength."
Sam raised his lance in signal and there was fresh movement among the
troops. Then a new stillness hung about them. Suddenly, there was no wind,
no sound. The sky was blue. The ground was a gray-green trampled thing.
Dust, like a specter hedge, hovered in the distance.
Sam surveyed the ranks, moved his lance forward. At that moment, there
came a clap of thunder.
"The gods will enter the field," said Death, looking upward.
The thunder chariot passed overhead. No rain of destruction descended,
however.
"Why are we still alive?" asked Sam.
"I believe they would rather our defeat be more ignominious. Also, they
may be afraid to attempt to use the thunder chariot against its creator--
justly afraid."
"In that case . . ." said Sam, and he gave the signal for the troops to
charge.
The chariot bore him forward. At his back, the forces of Keenset
followed.
They cut down the stragglers. They smashed through the guard that
attempted to delay them. In the midst of a storm of arrows, they broke the
archers. Then they faced the body of the holy crusaders who had sworn to
level the city of Keenset.
Then there came the notes of Heaven upon a trumpet.
The opposing lines of human warriors parted.
The fifty demigods rode forth.
Sam raised his lance.
"Siddhartha," said Death, "Lord Kalkin was never beaten in battle."
"I know."
"I have with me the Talisman of the Binder. That which was destroyed
upon the pyre at Worldsend was a counterfeit. I retained the original to
study it. I never had the chance. Hold but a moment and I will brace it
about you."
Sam raised his arms and Death clasped the belt of shells around his
waist.
He gave sign then to the forces of Keenset to halt.
Death drove him forward, alone, to face the half-gods.
About the heads of some there played the nimbus of early Aspect. Others
bore strange weapons to focus their strange Attributes. Fires came down and
licked about the chariot. Winds lashed at it. Great smashing noises fell
upon it. Sam gestured with his lance and the first three of his opponents
reeled and fell from the backs of their slizzards.
Then Death drove his chariot among them.
Its edges are razors and its speed three times that of a horse and
twice that of a slizzard.
A mist sprang up about him as he rode, a mist tinged with blood. Heavy
missiles sped toward him and vanished to one side or the other. Ultrasonic
screams assailed his ears, but somehow were partly deadened.
His face expressionless, Sam raised his lance high above his head.
A look of sudden fury crossed over his face, and the lightnings leapt
from its tip.
Slizzards and riders baked and crisped.
The smell of charred flesh came to his nostrils.
He laughed, and Death wheeled the chariot for another pass.
"Are you watching me?" Sam screamed at the heavens. "Watch on, then!
And watch out! You just made a mistake!"
"Don't!" said Death. "It is too soon! Never mock a god until he is
passed!"
And the chariot swept through the ranks of the demigods once again, and
none could touch upon it.
Trumpet notes filled the air, and the holy army rushed to succor its
champions.
The warriors of Keenset moved forward to engage them.
Sam stood in the chariot and the missiles fell heavy about it, always
missing. Death drove him through the ranks of the enemy, now like a wedge,
now like a rapier. He sang as he moved, and his lance was the tongue of a
serpent, sometimes crackling as it fell with bright flashes. The Talisman
glowed with a pale fire about his waist.
"We'll take them!" he said.
"There are only demigods and men upon the field," said Death. "They are
still testing our strength. There are very few who remember the full power
of Kalkin."
"The full power of Kalkin?" asked Sam. "That has never been released,
oh Death. Not in all the ages of the world. Let them come against me now and
the heavens will weep upon their bodies and the Vedra run the color of
blood! . . . Do you hear me? Do you hear me, gods? Come against me! I
challenge you, here upon this field! Meet me with your strength, in this
place!"
"No!" said Death. "Not yet!"
Overhead, the thunder chariot passed once again. Sam raised his lance
and pyrotechnic hell broke loose about the passing vessel.
"You should not have let them know you could do that! Not yet!"
The voice of Taraka came to him then, across the din of the battle and
the song within his brain.
"They come up the river now, oh Binder! And another party assails the
gates of the city!"
"Call then upon Dalissa to rise up and make the Vedra to boil with the
power of the Glow! Take you of the Rakasha to the gates of Keenset and
destroy the invader!"
"I hear, Binder!" and Taraka was gone.
A beam of blinding light fell from the thunder chariot and cut through
the ranks of the defenders.
"The time has come," said Death, and he waved his cloak in gesture.
In the rearmost rank, the Lady Ratri stood up in the stirrups of her
mount, the black mare. She raised the black veil that she wore over her
armor.
There were screams from both sides as the sun covered its face and
darkness descended upon the field. The stalk of light vanished from beneath
the thunder chariot and the burning ceased.
Only a faint phosphorescence, with no apparent source, occurred about
them. This happened as the Lord Mara swept onto the field in his cloudy
chariot of colors, drawn by the horses who vomited rivers of smoking blood.
Sam headed toward him, but a great body of warriors interposed
themselves; and before they won through, Mara had driven across the field,
slaying everyone in his path.
Sam raise his lance and scowled, but his target blurred and shifted;
and the lightnings always fell behind or to the side.
Then, in the distance, within the river, a soft light began. It pulsed
warmly, and something like a tentacle seemed to wave for a moment above the
surface of the waters.
Sounds of fighting came from the city. The air was full of demons. The
ground seemed to move beneath the feet of the armies.
Sam raised his lance and a jagged line of light ran up into the
heavens, provoking a dozen more to descend upon the field.
More beasts growled, coughed and wailed, racing through both ranks,
killing as they passed those of both sides.
The zombies continued to slay, beneath the prodding of the dark
sergeants, to the steady beating of the drums; and fire elementals clung to
the breasts of the corpses, as though feeding.
"We have broken the demigods," said Sam. "Let us try Lord Mara next."
They sought him across the field, amidst screams and wails, crossing
over those who were soon to become corpses and those who already were.
When they saw the colors of his chariot, they gave chase.
He turned and faced them finally, in a corridor of darkness, the sounds
of the battle dim and distant. Death drew rein also, and they stared across
the night into each other's glowing eyes.
"Will you stand to battle, Mara?" cried Sam. "Or must we run you down
like a dog?"
"Speak not to me of your kin, the hound and the bitch, oh Binder!" he
answered. "It is you, isn't it, Kalkin? That's your belt. This is your sort
of war. Those were your lightnings striking friend and foe alike. You did
live, somehow, eh?"
"It is I," said Sam, leveling his lance.
"And the carrion god to drive your wagon!"
Death raised his left hand, palm forward.
"I promise you death, Mara," he said. "If not by the hand of Kalkin,
then by my own. If not today, then another day. But it is between us also,
now."
To the left, the pulsing in the river became more and more frequent.
Death leaned forward and the chariot sped toward Mara.
The horses of the Dreamer reared and blew fire from their nostrils.
They leapt ahead.
The arrows of Rudra sought them in the dark, but these were also turned
aside as they blazed toward Death and his chariot. They exploded upon either
side, adding for a moment to the faint illumination.
In the distance, elephants lumbered, raced and squealed, pursued by the
Rakasha across the plains.
There came a mighty roaring sound.
Mara grew into a giant, and his chariot was a mountain. His horses
spanned eternities as they galloped forward. Lightning leapt from Sam's
lance, like spray from a fountain. A blizzard suddenly swirled about him,
and the cold of interstellar space itself entered into his bones.
At the last possible instant, Mara swerved his chariot and leapt down
from it.
They struck it broadside and there came a grinding sound from beneath
them as they settled slowly to the ground.
By then the roaring was deafening and the pulses of light from the
river had grown into a steady glow. A wave of steaming water swept across
the field as the Vedra overflowed its banks.
There were more screams, and the clash of arms continued. Faintly, the
drums of Nirriti still beat within the darkness, and there came a strange
sound from overhead as the thunder chariot sped toward the ground.
"Where'd he go?" cried Sam.
"To hide," said Death. "But he cannot hide forever."
"Damn it! Are we winning or losing?"
"That's a good question. I don't know the answer, though."
The waters foamed about the grounded chariot.
"Can you get us moving again?"
"Not in this darkness, with the water all around us."
"Then what do we do now?"
"Cultivate patience and smoke cigarettes." He leaned back and struck a
light.
After a time, one of the Rakasha came and hovered in the air above
them.
"Binder!" reported the demon. "The new attackers of the city wear upon
them that-which-repels!"
Sam raised his lance and a line of lightning fled from its point.
For one photoflash of an instant, the field was illuminated.
The dead lay everywhere. Small groups of men huddled together. Some lay
twisting in combat upon the ground. The bodies of animals were strewn among
them. A few large cats still wandered, feeding. The fire elementals had fled
from the water, which had coated the fallen with mud and soaked those who
still could stand. Broken chariots and dead slizzards and horses made mounds
upon the field. Across the scene, empty-eyed and continuing to follow
orders, the zombies wandered, slaying anything living that moved before
them. In the distance, one drum still beat, with an occasional falter. From
the city there came the sounds of continued battle.
"Find the lady in black," said Sam to the Rakasha, "and tell her to
break the darkness."
"Yes," said the demon, and fled back toward the city.
The sun shone again and Sam shielded his eyes against it.
The carnage was even worse under the blue sky and the golden bridge.
Across the field, the thunder chariot rested upon high ground.
The zombies slew the last of the men in sight. Then, as they turned to
seek more life, the drumming ceased and they fell to the ground themselves.
Sam stood with Death within the chariot. They looked about them for
signs of life.
"Nothing moves," said Sam. "Where are the gods?"
"Perhaps in the thunder chariot."
The Rakasha came to them once more.
"The defenders cannot hold the city," he reported.
"Have the gods joined in that assault?"
"Rudra is there, and his arrows work much havoc."
"The Lord Mara. Brahma, too, I think-- and there are many others. There
is much confusion. I hurried."
"Where is the Lady Ratri?"
"She entered into Keenset and abides there in her Temple."
"Where are the rest of the gods?"
"I do not know."
"I will go on to the city," said Sam, "and aid in its defense."
"And I to the thunder chariot," said Death, "to take it and use it
against the enemy-- if it can still be used. If not, there is still Garuda."
"Yes," said Sam, and levitated.
Death sprang down from the chariot. "Fare thee well."
"Thou also."
They crossed the place of carnage, each in his own fashion.
He climbed the small rise, his red leather boots soundless on the turf.
He swept his scarlet cloak back over his right shoulder and surveyed
the thunder chariot.
"It was damaged by the lightnings."
"Yes," he agreed.
He looked back toward the tail assembly, at the one who had spoken.
His armor shone like bronze, but it was not bronze.
It was worked about with the forms of many serpents.
He wore the horns of a bull upon his burnished helm, and in his left
hand he held a gleaming trident.
"Brother Agni, you have come up in the world."
"I am no longer Agni, but Shiva, Lord of Destruction."
"You wear his armor upon a new body and you carry his trident. But none
could master the trident of Shiva so quickly. This is why you wear the white
gauntlet on your right hand, and the goggles upon your brow."
Shiva reached up and lowered the goggles over his eyes.
"It is true, I know. Throw away your trident, Agni. Give me your glove
and your wand, your belt and your goggles."
He shook his head.
"I respect your power, deathgod, your speed and your strength, your
skill. But you stand too far away for any of these to aid you now. You
cannot come at me but I will burn you before you reach me here. Death, you
shall die."
He reached for the wand at his belt.
"You seek to turn the gift of Death against its giver?" The blood-red
scimitar came into his hand as he spoke.
"Good-bye, Dharma. Your days are come to an end."
He drew the wand.
"In the name of a friendship which once existed," said the one in red,
"I will give you your life if you surrender to me."
The wand wavered.
"You killed Rudra to defend the name of my wife."
"It was to preserve the honor of the Lokapalas that I did it. Now I am
God of Destruction, and one with the Trimurti!"
He pointed the fire wand, and Death swirled his scarlet cloak before
him.
There came a flash of light so blinding that two miles away upon the
walls of Keenset the defenders saw it and wondered.
The invaders had entered Keenset. There were fires now, screams, and
the blows of metal upon wood, metal upon metal.
The Rakasha pushed down buildings upon the invaders with whom they
could not close. The invaders as well as the defenders were few in number.
The main bodies of both forces had perished upon the plains.
Sam stood atop the highest tower of the Temple and stared down into the
falling city.
"I could not save you, Keenset," he stated. "I tried, but was not
sufficient."
Far below, in the street, Rudra strung his bow.
Seeing him, Sam raised his lance.
The lightnings fell upon Rudra and the arrow exploded in their midst.
When the air cleared, where Rudra had been standing there was now a
small crater in the center of a space of charred ground.
Lord Vayu appeared upon a distant rooftop and called forth the winds to
fan the flames. Sam raised his lance once more, but then a dozen Vayus stood
upon a dozen rooftops.
"Mara!" said Sam. "Show yourself. Dreamer! It you dare!"
There was laughter all around him.
"When I am ready, Kalkin," came the voice, out of the smoky air, "I
will dare. The choice, though, is mine to make. . .. Are you not dizzy? What
would happen if you were to cast yourself down toward the ground? Would the
Rakasha come to bear you up? Would your demons save you?"
Lightnings fell upon all the buildings near the Temple then, but above
the noise came the laughter of Mara. It faded away into the distance as
fresh fires crackled.
Sam seated himself and watched the city burn. The sounds of fighting
died down and ceased. There was only flame.
A sharp pain came and went in his head. Then it came and would not go.
Then it racked his entire body, and he cried out.
Brahma, Vayu, Mara and four demigods stood below in the street.
He tried to raise his lance, but his hand shook so that it fell from
his grasp, rattled on brick, was gone.
The scepter that is a skull and a wheel was pointed in his direction.
"Come down, Sam!" said Brahma, moving it slightly so that the pains
shifted and burned. "You and Ratri are the only ones left alive! You are the
last! Surrender!"
He struggled to his feet and clasped his hands upon his glowing belt.
He swayed and said the words through clenched teeth:
"Very well! I shall come down, as a bomb into your midst!"
But then the sky was darkened, lightened, darkened.
A mighty cry rose above the sound of the flames.
"It is Garuda!" said Mara.
"Why should Vishnu come-- now?"
"Garuda was stolen! Do you forget?"
The great Bird dived upon the burning city, like a titan phoenix toward
its flaming nest.
Sam twisted his head upward and saw the hood suddenly fall over
Garuda's eyes. The Bird fluttered his wings, then plummeted toward the gods,
where they stood before the Temple.
"Red!" cried Mara. "The rider! He wears red!"
Brahma spun and turned the screaming scepter, holding it with both
hands toward the head of the diving Bird.
Mara gestured, and Garuda's wings seemed to take fire.
Vayu raised both arms, and a wind like a hurricane hammered the mount
of Vishnu, whose beak smashes chariots.
He cried once more, opening his wings, slowing his descent. The Rakasha
then rushed about his head, urging him downward with buffets and stings. He
slowed, slowed, but could not stop.
The gods scattered.
Garuda struck the ground and the ground shuddered.
From among the feathers of his back, Yama came forth, blade in hand,
took three steps, and fell to the ground. Mara emerged from a ruin and
struck him across the back of his neck, twice, with the edge of his hand.
Sam sprang before the second blow descended, but he did not reach the
ground in time. The scepter screamed once more and everything spun about
him. He fought to break his fall. He slowed.
The ground was forty feet below him-- thirty-- twenty . . . The ground
was clouded by a blood-dimmed haze, then black.
"Lord Kalkin has finally been beaten in battle," someone said softly.
Brahma, Mara, and two demigods named Bora and Tikan were the only ones
who remained to bear Sam and Yama from the dying city of Keenset by the
river Vedra. The Lady Ratri walked before them, a cord looped about her
neck.
They took Sam and Yama to the thunder chariot, which was even more
damaged than it had been when they left it, having a great gaping hole in
its right side and part of its tail assembly missing. They secured their
prisoners in chains, removing the Talisman of the Binder and the crimson
cloak of Death. They sent a message then to Heaven, and after a time sky
gondolas came to return them to the Celestial City.
"We have won," said Brahma. "Keenset is no more."
"A costly victory, I think," said Mara.
"But we have won!"
"And the Black One stirs again."
"He sought but to test our strength."
"And what must he think of it? We lost an entire army? And even gods
have died this day."
"We fought with Death, the Rakasha, Kalkin, Night and the Mother of the
Glow. Nirriti will not lift up his hand against us again, not after a
winning such as this."
"Mighty is Brahma," said Mara, and turned away.
The Lords of Karma were called to stand in judgment of the captives.
The Lady Ratri was banished from the City and sentenced to walk the
world as a mortal, always to be incarnated into middle-aged bodies of more
than usually plain appearance, bodies that could not bear the full power of
her Aspect or Attributes. She was shown this mercy because she was judged an
incidental accomplice only, one misled by Kubera, whom she had trusted.
When they sent after Lord Yama, to bring him to judgment, he was found
to be dead in his cell. Within his turban, there had been a small metal box.
This box had exploded.
The Lords of Karma performed an autopsy and conferred.
"Why did he not take poison if he wished to die?" Brahma had asked. "It
would be easier to conceal a pill than that box."
"It is barely possible," said one of the Lords of Karma, "that
somewhere in the world he had another body, and that he sought to
transmigrate by means of a broadcast unit, which was set to destroy itself
after use."
"Could this thing be done?"
"No, of course not. Transfer equipment is bulky and complicated. But
Yama boasted he could do anything. He once tried to convince me that such a
device could be built. But the contact between the two bodies must be direct
and by means of many leads and cables. And no unit that tiny could have
generated sufficient power."
"Who built you the psych-probe?" asked Brahma.
"Lord Yama."
"And Shiva, the thunder chariot? And Agni, the fire wand? Rudra, his
terrible bow? The Trident? The Bright Spear?"
"Yama."
"I should like to advise you then, that at approximately the same time
as that tiny box must have been operating, a great generator, as of its own
accord, turned itself on within the Vasty Hall of Death. It functioned for
less than five minutes, and then turned itself off again."
"Broadcast power?"
Brahma shrugged.
"It is time to sentence Sam."
This was done. And since he had died once before, without much effect,
it was decided that a sentence of death was not in order.
Accordingly, he was transmigrated. Not into another body.
A radio tower was erected, Sam was placed under sedation, transfer
leads were attached in the proper manner, but there was no other body. They
were attached to the tower's converter.
His atman was projected upward through the opened dome, into the great
magnetic cloud that circled the entire planet and was called the Bridge of
the Gods.
Then he was given the unique distinction of receiving a second funeral
in Heaven. Lord Yama received his first; and Brahma, watching the smoke
arise from the pyres, wondered where he really was.
"The Buddha has gone to nirvana," said Brahma. "Preach it in the
Temples! Sing it in the streets'. Glorious was his passing! He has reformed
the old religion, and we are better now than ever before! Let all who would
think otherwise remember Keenset!"
This thing was done also.
But they never found Lord Kubera.
The demons were free.
Nirriti was strong.
And elsewhere in the world there were those who remembered bifocal
glasses and toilets that flushed, petroleum chemistry and internal
combustion engines, and the day the sun had hidden its face from the justice
of Heaven.
Vishnu was heard to say that the wilderness had come into the City at
last.
Another name by which he is sometimes called is Maitreya, meaning Lord
of Light. After his return from the Golden Cloud, he journeyed to the Palace
of Kama at Khaipur, where he planned and built his strength against the Day
of the Yuga. A sage once said that one never sees the Day of the Yuga, but
only knows it when it is past. For it dawns like any other day and passes in
the same wise, recapitulating the history of the world.
He is sometimes called Maitreya, meaning Lord of Light. . .
The world is a fire of sacrifice, the sun its fuel, sunbeams its smoke,
the day its flames, the points of the compass its cinders and sparks. In
this fire the gods offer faith as libation. Out of this offering King Moon
is born.
Rain, oh Gautama, is the fire, the year its fuel, the clouds its smoke,
the lightning its flame, cinders, sparks. In this fire the gods offer King
Moon as libation. Out of this offering the rain is born.
The world, oh Gautama, is the fire, the earth its fuel, fire its smoke,
the night its flame, the moon its cinders, the stars its sparks. In this
fire the gods offer rain as libation. Out of this offering food is produced.
Man, oh Gautama, is the fire, his open mouth its fuel, his breath its
smoke, his speech its flame, his eye its cinders, his ear its sparks. In
this fire the gods offer food as libation. Out of this offering the power of
generation is born.
Woman, oh Gautama, is the fire, her form its fuel, her hair its smoke,
her organs its flame, her pleasures its cinders and its sparks. In this
flame the gods offer the power of generation as libation. Out of this
offering a man is born. He lives for so long as he is to live.
When a man dies, he is carried to be offered in the fire. The fire
becomes his fire, the fuel his fuel, the smoke his smoke, the flame his
flame, the cinders his cinders, the sparks his sparks. In this fire the gods
offer the man as libation. Out of this offering the man emerges in radiant
splendor.
Brihadaranyaka Upanishad (VI, ii, 9-14)
In a high, blue palace of slender spires and filigreed gates, where the
tang of salt sea spray and the crying of sea-wights came across the bright
air to season the senses with life and delight. Lord Nirriti the Black spoke
with the man who had been brought to him.
"Sea captain, what is your name?" he asked.
"Olvagga, Lord," answered the captain. "Why did you kill my crew and
let me live?"
"Because I would question you, Captain Olvagga."
"Regarding what?"
"Many things. Things such as an old sea captain might know, through his
travels. How stands my control of the southern sea lanes?"
"Stronger than I thought, or you'd not have me here."
"Many others are afraid to venture out, are they not?"
"Yes."
Nirriti moved to a window overlooking the sea. He turned his back upon
his captive. After a time, he spoke again:
"I hear there has been much scientific progress in the north since, oh,
the battle of Keenset."
"I, too, have heard this. Also, I know it to be true. I have seen a
steam engine. The printing press is now a part of life. Dead slizzard legs
are made to jump with galvanic currents. A better grade of steel is now
being forged. The microscope and the telescope have been rediscovered."
Nirriti turned back to him, and they studied one another.
Nirriti was a small man, with a twinkling eye, a facile smile, dark
hair, restrained by a silver band, an upturned nose and eyes the color of
his palace. He wore black and lacked a suntan.
"Why do the Gods of the City fail to stop this thing?"
"I feel it is because they are weakened, if that is what you want to
hear, Lord. Since the disaster by the Vedra they have been somewhat afraid
to squelch the progress of mechanism with violence. It has also been said
that there is internal strife in the City, between the demigods and what
remains of their elders. Then there is the matter of the new religion. Men
no longer fear Heaven so much as they used to. They are more willing to
defend themselves; and now that they are better equipped, the gods are less
willing to face them."
"Then Sam is winning. Across the years, he is beating them."
"Yes, Renfrew. I feel this to be true."
Nirriti glanced at the two guards who flanked Olvagga.
"Leave," he ordered. Then, when they had gone,
"You know me?"
"Yes, chaplin. For I am Jan Olvegg, captain of the Star of India."
"Olvegg. That seems moderately impossible."
"True, nevertheless. I received this now ancient body the day Sam broke
the Lords of Karma at Mahartha. I was there."
"One of the First, and-- yes!-- a Christian!"
"Occasionally, when I run out of Hindi swear words."
Nirriti placed a hand on his shoulder. "Then your very being must ache
at this blasphemy they have wrought!"
"I'm none too fond of them-- nor they of me."
"I daresay. But of Sam-- he did the same thing-- compounding this
plurality of heresies-- burying the true Word even deeper . . ."
"A weapon, Renfrew," said Olvegg. "Nothing more. I'm sure he didn't
want to be a god any more than you or I."
"Perhaps. But I wish he had chosen a different weapon. If he wins their
souls are still lost."
Olvegg shrugged. "I'm no theologian, such as yourself . . ."
"But will you help me? Over the ages I have built up a mighty force. I
have men and I have machines. You say our enemies are weakened. My soulless
ones-- born not of man or woman-- they are without fear. I have sky
gondolas-- many. I can reach their City at the Pole. I can destroy their
Temples here in the world. I think the time is at hand to cleanse the world
of this abomination. The true faith must come again! Soon! It must be soon .
. ."
"As I said, I'm no theologian. But I, too, would see the City fall,"
said Olvegg. "I will help you, in any way I can."
"Then we will take a few of their cities and defile their Temples, to
see what action this provokes."
Olvegg nodded.
"You will advise me. You will provide moral support," said Nirriti, and
bowed his head.
"Join me in prayer," he ordered.
The old man stood for a long while outside the Palace of Kama in
Khaipur, staring at its marble pillars. Finally, a girl took pity on him and
brought him bread and milk. He ate the bread.
"Drink the milk, too, grandfather. It is nourishing and will help
sustain thy flesh."
"Damn!" said the old man. "Damn milk! And damn my flesh! My spirit,
also, for that matter!"
The girl drew back. "That is hardly the proper reply upon the receipt
of charity."
"It is not your charity to which I object, wench. It is your taste in
beverages. Could you not spare me a draught of the foulest wine from the
kitchen? . . . That which the guests have disdained to order and the cook
will not even slop over the cheapest pieces of meat? I crave the squeezings
of grapes, not cows."
"Perhaps I could bring you a menu? Depart! Before I summon a servant!"
He stared into her eyes. "Take not offense, lady, I pray. Begging comes
hard to me."
She looked into his pitch-dark eyes in the midst of a ruin of wrinkles
and tan. His beard was streaked with black. The tiniest smile played about
the corners of his lips.
"Well. . . follow me around to the side. I'll take you into the kitchen
and see what can be found. I don't really know why I should, though."
His fingers twitched as she turned, and his smile widened as he
followed, watching her walk.
"Because I want you to," he said.
Taraka of the Rakasha was uneasy. Flitting above the clouds that moved
through the middle of the day, he thought upon the ways of power. He had
once been mightiest. In the days before the binding there had been none who
could stand against him. Then Siddhartha the Binder had come. He had known
of him earlier, known of him as Kalkin and had known him to be strong.
Sooner or later, he had realized, they would have to meet, that he might
test the power of that Attribute which Kalkin was said to have raised up.
When they had come together, on that mighty, gone day when the mountaintops
had flared with their fury, on that day the Binder had won. And in their
second encounter, ages afterward, he had somehow beaten him even more fully.
But he had been the only one, and now he was gone from out the world. Of all
creatures, only the Binder had bested the Lord of Hellwell. Then the gods
had come to challenge his power. They had been puny in the early days,
struggling to discipline their mutant powers with drugs, hypnosis,
meditation, neurosurgery-- forging them into Attributes-- and across the
ages, those powers had grown. Four of them had entered Hellwell, only four,
and his legions had not been able to repel them. The one called Shiva was
strong, but the Binder had later slain him. This was as it should be, for
Taraka recognized the Binder as a peer. The woman he dismissed. She was only
a woman, and she had required assistance from Yama. But Lord Agni, whose
soul had been one bright, blinding flame-- this one he had almost feared. He
recalled the day Agni had walked into the palace at Palamaidsu, alone, and
had challenged him. He could not stop that one, though he had tried, and he
had seen the palace itself destroyed by the power of his fires. And nothing
in Hellwell could stop him either. He had made a promise then to himself
that he must test this power, as he had that of Siddhartha, to defeat it or
be bound by it. But he never did. The Lord of Fires had fallen himself,
before the One in Red-- who had been the fourth in Hellwell-- who had
somehow turned his fires back upon him, that day beside the Vedra in the
battle for Keenset. This meant that he was the greatest. For had not even
the Binder warned him of Yama-Dharma, god of Death? Yes, the one whose eyes
drink life was the mightiest yet remaining in the world. He had almost
fallen to his strength within the thunder chariot. He had tested this
strength once, briefly, but had relented because they were allies in that
fight. It was told that Yama had died afterward, in the City. Later, it was
told that he still walked the world. As Lord of the Dead it was said that he
could not die himself, save by his own choosing. Taraka accepted this as a
fact, knowing what this acceptance meant. It meant that he, Taraka, would
return to the south, to the island of the blue palace, where the Lord of
Evil, Nirriti the Black, awaited his answer. He would give his assent.
Starting at Mahartha and working northward from the sea, the Rakasha would
add their power to his dark own, destroying the Temples of the six largest
cities of the southwest, one after another, filling the streets of those
cities with the blood of their citizens and the nameless legions of the
Black One-- until the gods came to their defense, and so met their doom. If
the gods failed to come, then their true weakness would be known. The
Rakasha would then storm Heaven, and Nirriti would level the Celestial City;
Milehigh Spire would fall, the dome would be shattered, the great white cats
of Kaniburrha would look upon ruins, and the pavilions of the gods and the
demigods would be covered with the snows of the Pole. And all of this for
one reason, really-- aside from relieving the boredom, aside from hastening
the final days of gods and of men in the world of the Rakasha. Whenever
there is great fighting and the doing of mighty deeds and bloody deeds and
flaming deeds-- he comes, Taraka knew-- the One in Red comes from somewhere,
always, for his Aspect draws him to the realm that is his. Taraka knew he
would search, wait, do anything, for however long it took, until that day he
stared into the black fires that burn behind the eyes of Death. . . .
Brahma stared at the map, then looked back to the screen of crystal,
about which a bronze Naga twisted, tail in teeth.
"Burning, oh priest?"
"Burning, Brahma . . . the whole warehouse district!"
"Order the people to quench the fires."
"They are already doing so, Mighty One."
"Then why trouble me with the matter?"
"There is fear. Great One."
"Fear? Fear of what?"
"The Black One, whose name I may not speak in your presence, whose
strength has grown steadily in the south, he who controls the sea lanes,
cutting off trade."
"Why should you be afraid to speak the name of Nirriti before me? I
know of the Black One. Do you feel he started the fires?"
"Yes, Great One-- or rather some accursed one in his pay did it. There
is much talk that he seeks to cut us off from the rest of the world, to
drain our wealth, destroy our stores and weaken our spirits, because he
plans-- "
"To invade you, of course."
"You have said it. Potent One."
"It may be true, my priest. So tell me, do you feel your gods will not
stand by you if the Lord of Evil attacks?"
"There has never been any doubt. Most Puissant One. We simply wanted to
remind you of the possibility and renew our perpetual supplication for mercy
and divine protection."
"You have made your point, priest. Fear not."
Brahma ended the transmission. "He will attack."
"Of course."
"And how strong is he, I wonder? No one really knows how strong he is,
Ganesha. Do they?"
"You ask me, my Lord? Your humble policy adviser?"
"I do not see anyone else present, humble godmaker. Do you know of
anyone who might have information?"
"No, Lord. I do not. Everyone avoids the foul one as though he were the
real death. Generally, he is. As you are aware, the three demigods I sent
south did not return."
"They were strong, too, whatever their names, weren't they? How long
ago was that?"
"The last was a year ago, when we sent the new Agni."
"Yes, he wasn't very good, though-- still used incendiary grenades . .
. but strong."
"Morally, perhaps. When there are fewer gods one must settle for
demigods."
"In the old days, I would have taken the thunder chariot-- "
"In the old days there was no thunder chariot. Lord Yama-- "
"Silence! We have a thunder chariot now. I think the tall man of smoke
who wears a wide hat shall bend above Nirriti's palace."
"Brahma, I think Nirriti can stop the thunder chariot."
"Why so?"
"From some firsthand reports I've heard, I believe that he has used
guided missiles against warships sent after his brigands."
"Why did you not tell me of this sooner?"
"They are very recent reports. This is the first chance I have had to
broach the subject."
"Then you do not feel we should attack?"
"No. Wait. Let him move first, that we may judge his strength."
"This would involve sacrificing Mahartha, would it not?"
"So? Have you never seen a city fall? . . . How will Mahartha benefit
him, by itself, and for a time? If we cannot reclaim it, then let the man of
smoke nod his wide white hat-- over Mahartha."
"You are right. It will be worth it, to assess his power properly and
to drain a portion of it away. In the meantime, we must prepare."
"Yes. What will your order be?"
"Alert all the powers in the City. Recall Lord Indra from the eastern
continent, at once!"
"Thy will be done."
"And alert the other five cities of the river -- Lananda, Khaipur,
Kilbar-- "
"Immediately."
"Go then!"
"I am already gone."
Time like an ocean, space like its water, Sam in the middle, standing,
decided.
"God of Death," he called out, "enumerate our strengths."
Yama stretched and yawned, then rose from the scarlet couch upon which
he had been dozing, almost invisible. He crossed the room, stared into Sam's
eyes. "Without raising Aspect, here is my Attribute."
Sam met his gaze, held it. "This is in answer to my question?"
"Partly," replied Yama, "but mainly it was to test your own power. It
appears to be returning. You bore my death-gaze longer than any mortal
could."
"I know my power is returning. I can feel it. Many things are returning
now. During the weeks we have dwelled here in Ratri's palace I have
meditated upon my past lives. They were not all failures, deathgod. I have
decided this today. Though Heaven has beaten me at every turn, each victory
has cost them much."
"Yes, it would seem you are rather a man of destiny. They are actually
weaker now than they were the day you challenged their power at Mahartha.
They are also relatively weaker. This is because men are stronger. The gods
broke Keenset, but they did not break Acceleration. Then they tried to bury
Buddhism within the known teachings, but they could not. I cannot really say
whether your religion helped with the plot of this tale you are writing, by
encouraging Acceleration in any way whatsoever, but then none of the gods
could say either. It served as a good fog, though-- it diverted their
attention from mischief they might have been doing, and since it did happen
to take as a teaching, their efforts against it served to arouse some
anti-Deicrat sentiment. You would seem inspired if you didn't seem shrewd."
"Thank you. Do you want my blessing?"
"No, do you want mine?"
"Perhaps, Death, later. But you did not answer my question. Please tell
me what strengths lie with us."
"Very well. Lord Kubera will arrive shortly. . ."
"Kubera? Where is he?"
"He has dwelled in hiding over the years, leaking scientific knowledge
into the world."
"Over so many years? His body must be ancient! How could he have
managed?"
"Do you forget Narada?"
"My old physician from Kapil?"
"The same. When you dispersed your lancers after your battle in
Mahartha, he retreated into the backlands with a service of retainers. He
packed with him all the equipment you had taken from the Hall of Karma. I
located him many years ago. Subsequent to Keenset, after my escape from
Heaven by the Way of the Black Wheel, I brought Kubera out from his vault
beneath that fallen city. He later allied himself with Narada, who now runs
a bootleg body shop in the hills. They work together. We have set up several
others in various places, also."
"And Kubera comes? Good!"
"And Siddhartha is still Prince of Kapil. A call for troops from that
principality would still be heard. We have sounded them out."
"A handful, probably. But still good to know-- yes."
"And Lord Krishna."
"Krishna? What is he doing on our side? Where is he?"
"He was here. I found him the day we arrived. He had just moved in with
one of the girls. Quite pathetic."
"How so?"
"Old. Pitifully old and weak, but still a drunken lecher. His Aspect
served him still, however, periodically summoning up some of his ancient
charisma and a fraction of his colossal vitality. He had been expelled from
Heaven after Keenset, but because he would not fight against Kubera and
myself, as did Agni. He has wandered the world for over half a century,
drinking and loving and playing his pipes and growing older. Kubera and I
have tried several times to locate him, but he did considerable traveling.
This is generally a requirement for renegade fertility deities."