On A Pale Horse Part 26

"Thanks again for your help," he called. "You have opened my eyes!"

"You're welcome. Death," her breeze faint whisper came. Then he was alone.

He strode through the doorway and encountered a trdly regal and lovely woman, garbed in elaborately archaic paraphernalia. "I am Helen of Troy," she announced.

Zane was, of course, familiar with the historical, virtually legendary accounts of this famous woman's activities. Hers was the face that had launched a thousand spells and precipitated a savage ancient war between the city state of Troy and the ma.s.sed forces of Greece. Naturally Helen now served Satan more directly.

"Now you do call girl duty for the Father of Lies," Zane snapped, brushing by her.

"Please!" she cried, clutching at his arm. "You do not know what it is like to be three millennia past your prime! You can not guess what the Lord of Flies does to women who fail him!"

Against his better judgment, Zane was moved by her plea. She might be three thousand years dead, but she was one lovely creature. "I wish you no harm, Helen. But I am trying to keep a good, living woman out of Satan's grasp. Would you seek to betray that woman?"

Helen looked at him. Tears formed in her beautiful eyes and streaked down her cla.s.sic cheeks. Slowly her face collapsed in on itself, and her body became a shapeless ma.s.s. She dissolved into vapor, and her soul sank through the floor on the way to what she dreaded.

She had understood. Helen of Troy had been a good woman in essence, refusing to betray another of her kind. Saddened, Zane moved on outside. Mortis was waiting for him, saddlelight blinking urgently.

Zane mounted and set the translation jewel in his ear. "What is it, gallant steed?" "Satan has loosed h.e.l.lhounds." "That sounds bad. What's a h.e.l.lhound?"

"A demon in animal form. You cannot fold its soul, for it is not human."

Zane digested that. It seemed Satan was playing with a harder ball now. "What can I do?"

"It is not my place to say. Master. I can protect you if we encounter them singly."

"Do h.e.l.lhounds hunt singly?"

"Not necessarily."

Zane felt a chill. "How much time do I have?"

"It takes time to run all the way from h.e.l.l's Houndpound to Purgatory, even for supernatural creatures. You may have fifteen minutes before they arrive."

"Good. 1 have an errand to attend to. Take me to the Records Department."

Mortis galloped for the big Purgatory building across the plain. "Do not be long about your business," the horse warned. "I cannot be with you inside."

"I'll rejoin you before the Hounds arrive." Zane dismounted, entered the building, went immediately to the computer terminal, and turned it on.

A GREETING, DEATH,' the screen flashed. THE INFORMATION YOU SEEK IS NOT IN MY STORAGE BANKS.

"I'll bet it isn't," Zane muttered.

NO ORDINARY CREATURE CAN STOP A h.e.l.lHOUND.

News traveled fast! "That isn't my question." The computer flickered its screen, seeming startled.

SURELY YOU ARE CONCERNED.

"How many souls have been released from h.e.l.l?"

MEANINGLESS QUERY. PLEASE REPHRASE.

"Oh, no, it isn't meaningless, machine! According to the Prince of Evil, he only processes souls to expiate their burden of evil, then releases them to Heaven. How many souls has he released to date? A round figure will suffice."

There was a pause. NO INFORMATION, the screen showed at last.

"What do you mean, no information? You've got the records of Eternity!"

I MEAN THERE HAVE BEEN NO ENTRIES OF THE TYPE YOU DESCRIBE.

Zane gasped. "No souls have been released from h.e.l.lin all Eternity?"

CORRECT.

"What a colossal liar Satan is!" Zane cried. "I was sure he exaggerated, but there should have been at least a modic.u.m of substance to his claim!"

THE CLAIM WAS NOT FALSE. ETERNITY HAS NOT ENDED.

Zane considered. "You mean that, theoretically, Lucifer will release souls at some future date?"

CORRECT,.

"Some loophole! It's a blank check! Eternity, by definition, never ends."

The screen was blank. Zane turned off the terminal. He had learned what he came for. He had guessed that Satan might be underreporting the cured souls, saving out a certain percentage beyond their appointed tenures in h.e.l.l, but the reality was grossly worse. Certainly Death was not going to do things Satan's way!

Mortis was fidgeting impatiently outside. "h.e.l.lhounds getting close?" Zane asked as he mounted.

"Six of them."

"Can you outrun them?"

"Neigh. I could outdistance them in an extended run, for they lack my endurance, but their short range speed is greater than mine."

"Can we hide from them?"

"No. They can sniff out even invisible spirits. They are h.e.l.l's cleanup squad. Nothing escapes them."

"Is there anywhere in the cosmos we can go where they can't follow?"

"Heaven, perhaps."

Zane laughed wryly. "Let's not involve Heaven in this! Let me consider."

"Do not consider more than ninety seconds. Death," the stallion said meaningfully.

Zane sat and pondered. He was surprised to discover that he was not afraid. He had never been a brave man; temper and bravado had pa.s.sed for courage. But his recent activities in the office of Death had removed most of the dread of dying from him. He did not want to die himself, but this was now mainly a practical matter rather than fear for himself. If he died now, his replacement would end the strike and take Luna, and Satan would win. Luna might go to Heaven, and perhaps Zane would, too though he would hardly bet on that! Certainly neither faced extinction. But how would the rest of humanity fare, if Satan had his way? That was Zane's real challenge.

The h.e.l.lhounds, it seemed, could kill him, for they were supernatural monsters who would not be balked by the magic of the Deathcape. He might send one of them back to h.e.l.l in the same manner he had sent the chef demon, even though its soul was not his proper department. But that would be the limit, since these creatures would have no fear of the human Death Incarnation.

If he couldn't hide from them, or flee them, or fight them what could he do? Just stand and wait for them?

Into his mind came the pattern of matchsticks. Five arranged in a pentagon. Now he realized what it meant. His thoughts were going in a circle, leading him nowhere, providing no solution.

Hastily he reshaped the matches to a better configuration. He laid them in a line. If he couldn't hide and he couldn't flee but he had to prevail then he had to fight and therefore needed a suitable weapon There was his series chain:.

He heard a chilling baying. At the horizon of Purgatory, dark lumps appeared, rapidly swelling in size. The h.e.l.lhounds had arrived.

Weapon, weapon what was a weapon against a supernatural monster? Not his cloak, not his gems. He needed something offensive.

The six figures loomed into great red brown canine shapes, each half the height of a man. Their eyes glowed red, like little furnace portholes. They moved with huge catlike bounds, covering ten meters at a time. There was no sound as their feet struck the ground; even in open attack, they showed their stealth.

What he needed was a good sword one enchanted to dispatch natural and supernatural ent.i.ties alike. But this was rather late to think about procuring one.

The h.e.l.lhounds ringed man and horse, pausing to study the situation. In a moment one or more would pounce.

Zane's eye fell on the scythe. Suddenly he remembered the manner in which Mars had suggested that he practice with it. He had not done so, as his attention had been taken by other things. But he did know how to swing a scythe.

The first h.e.l.lhound pounced.

Zane grasped the scythe and jumped to the ground. The Hound pa.s.sed overhead, missing the suddenly descending target. That freed a few more seconds.

Zane shook the scythe so that its giant blade snapped into place at right angles to the handle and locked there.

"Get out of here, Mortis!" he cried. "This is not your quarrel."

The Deathsteed bolted.

Zane hefted the scythe. He felt its terrible power. Oh, yes, this was a good weapon! "Come at me, puppies!" he cried, letting his volatile temper take over, and the cruel blade gleamed. "Come try my strength, you dogs who thought to attack helpless prey! But when you do, 0 beasts of night, know that you face the Lord of Night. I am Death!"

The first Hound, unimpressed, turned and leaped again. It seemed this kill was the privilege of the leader. Zane angled the great blade upward, pointing roughly at the Hound. The monster canine landed on it.

The gleaming point entered the Hound's head and slid right through to its tail, almost without resistance. Blood spurted at each end as the creature expired. The magic blade had efficiently destroyed the magic animal.

Two more h.e.l.lhounds, still unimpressed, pounced, one from each side. Zane hauled the blade out of the first and whipped it about in a fierce circle. It struck the first Hound halfway up its body and pa.s.sed through as if encountering snow.

The top half of the monster's body flew off, leaving the bottom half to collapse in a burble of blood.

The blade carried on to contact the second Hound crosswise. The front of its body parted company with the rear. Guts spilled out as both halves collapsed.

Three h.e.l.lhounds remained. They were now impressed. "What's the matter, curs?" Zane taunted them. "Don't you like it when your quarry fights back?"

Another stepped forward, jaws gaping. Its teeth and tongue were as black as solid soot. It belched forth a searing jet of fire.

Zane's blade swung, separating the creature's head from its body. The fire died as the canine did.

Four down, two to go. Zane's right side smarted where the fire had heated his cloak. This fire was more penetrating than that of the Hot Smoke dragoness! But he couldn't rest now.

"Exactly whom did you suppose you were stalking, 0 sons of h.e.l.lb.i.t.c.hes?" Zane demanded, stepping toward the two with a blade that dripped the blood of their companions. "By what unholy arrogance did you expect to interfere with an Incarnation? Begone, whelps, lest I slice you in thin pieces!"

But one Hound refused to be intimidated. It charged and Zane's terrible blade swept off all four of its legs with one motion. Still determined, the monster opened its mouth to shoot fire, so Zane clipped off the tip of its muzzle. "Are you a slow learner?" he inquired savagely. "Give over, or I will treat you unkindly."

The Hound, incapacitated, lay still and bled.

Zane turned to the last. "Put your tail between your legs, 0 sniveling cur, and hie back to your fell master," he cried, orienting the bright red blade. "Tell him not again to send pups to do men's work!"

The h.e.l.lhound, cowed at last, put down its tail and fled.

Zane's knees felt weak. He had done it! He had bluffed them out!

Bluffed them? No, he had destroyed them, by drawing on a power of his office he had not consciously exploited before. His practice with the scythe, long ago in life, had proved well worthwhile!

Mortis trotted back, nickering. "That was a credit to the office. Death," the translation said.

Zane shrugged. "It was necessary. A desperate man does what he has to do. If I had had any escape, I would have taken it; since I had to fight, I fought as well as I knew how." For once his temper had served him well! "Satan underestimated me this time; I dare say he will not do so again. But I hope in time to serve the office with distinction. It's not that I regard myself as any superior person, for I am not; it's that the office of Death deserves the best that I can give it."

He mounted, and they started toward Earth. "Why didn't you tell me about the scythe?" Zane asked. "I did not know it could be used against h.e.l.lhounds,"

Mortis admitted. "My former master never employed it in that manner."

But Mars had known! "So there are powers of the office that are inherent, regardless of the officeholder or the amount such powers have been used before," Zane concluded. "Could there be others?"

"I am not the first Deathsteed," Mortis neighed. "My predecessors may have seen things that are now clouded. But I understand the office of Death varies considerably with each officeholder. Interpretation is critical. At his height. Death is balked by no force in the firmament."

"I've been balked at every turn!" Zane protested.

"Not when you held the Deathscythe!"

"I was desperate," Zane repeated. But already he looked back at that episode with a certain grim pride. He had been foolish, but he had destroyed the enemy. Death did indeed have power, when Death chose to exert it. Nature had intimated as much. Had he remained confused, in effect acquiescing in his own slaying by the h.e.l.lhounds, that would have occured; but he had not and they had been helpless against him. Had his predecessor not cooperated in his own murder by being careless, he would have survived and Zane would be in Eternity.

"My own immediate predecessor in the office what kind of Death was he?" Zane knew the man had gone to Heaven, but that did not necessarily speak well for his competence.

"A mediocre one, or he would not have lost the office." "I mean how did he perform? I know he was careless at the end, but that does not mean he wasn't a good worker. Did he keep up with his schedule? Did you like him?"

"He kept his schedule better than you keep yours," the horse said. "I can not afford to become emotionally attached to any specific person."

"So you will not miss me when I'm gone," Zane said. "That's best. I appreciate the loyal and competent service you have given me from the outset and know you will be a great help to my successor."

Mortis did not answer.

They landed in the city of Kilvarough. Mortis converted to the Deathmobile and drove Zane to Luna's address.

She met him at the door. "Oh, I worried about you, Zane," she said, relieved. "The consequence of opposing Satan "

"I can handle it," he said, not wanting to burden her with the knowledge that his life was now seriously in jeopardy. Satan would surely bring more potent forces to bear but if Luna knew that, she might try to do something foolish, such as removing herself from life. "I just came to ask you to stand firm no matter what happens. And to remind you that I love you."

Her relief was turning quickly to social concern. "You have gone on strike! Do you realize what this means?"