“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.