The Messiah raised his head and cried in a ringing voice, “Give fire to the gods!”
The waiting hillmen flung their torches onto the oil-soaked wood. It ignited with an explosive юwhoosh, and a cross of flames leapt into being.
Lit by the leaping flames, the Messiah began to speak. In spite of himself, Kirk felt a shivering tingle run up his spine as the hypnotic voice rolled out over the assembly.
“The gods have touched me and ordained that I work their will through you, their instruments of holy wrath. Tonight we have kindled a flame which shall spread out against the darkness until all Kyros shines with holy light.
“I am the hammer of the gods, and I will forge your souls in battle until all dross is driven forth and they, bake shining blades, arise at last to their reward in Afterbliss.”
His left arm stabbed toward the east. The thousands turned as one and watched the glittering point of light climb over the horizon.
“There, the souls of those who died for me already walk the golden streets. But disembodied souls can never know the joys of battle, wine, and surging loins. And so all men have always feared that final sojourn in the joyless halls of death. But now, for you who follow me, who serve as swords to win a world-wide holy state where I may rule as viceroy of the gods, they have prepared a golden place. There, warrior bodies unite with warrior souls and find each day of their reunited, eternal life a new delight. Behold! The first to fall depart.”
An awed moan came from the watchers as a shimmering pink opalescence sprang into being around the white-swathed bodies. Then, as a low, throbbing sound began, the dead seemed to stir.
“They live again! The gods summon them to Afterbliss!”
As if in response to the Messiah’s words, the dead clansmen began to rise into the air, slowly drifting upward accompanied by the awed moaning of the warriors. Faster they rose, and faster, like snowflakes falling upward, they vanished into the darkening sky.
“A tractor beam from the Enterprise,” Scott whispered.
Kirk paced silently for a moment and then faced the others.
“After that demonstration, there’ll be no stopping Spock once he begins to march. His men will rum into berserkers when the fighting starts. Now… they knew that death in the field is a passport to a warrior’s idea of heaven.”
“And they move against Andros tomorrow,” McCoy said somberly. “Once through the gates—what we saw in that village yesterday is just a taste of what’s going to come. What do we do now?”
“We use the only weapon we have—Sara. She’s the only one with half a chance of getting close enough to Spock to do any good. We know she turns him on—that episode at the inn the morning they beamed down shows what kind of animal he’s turned into. Look, Bones, he’s bound to have some kind of celebration for the clan chiefs tonight. We’ve got to get Sara in there to dance. The way she had Tram Bir’s men howling shows that, once she’s turned her dop loose, she can be as hypnotic as Spock.”
“And what if the nullifier doesn’t work?”
“Then we’ll kill him,” Kirk said flatly, “I don’t know how, but we’ll kill him.”
The two stood silently and watched as subdued hillmen streamed back to their clan areas. Then a familiar voice caught their attention and Kirk peered down into the darkness. Tram Bir had just returned and was questioning one of the guards.
“Where’s Greth? He was supposed to be here an hour ago.”
The guards shrugged. “I haven’t seen him since he rode off just as we entered camp.”
“The Messiah wants an exact accounting of our clan at once,” Tram Bir said in an irritated voice, “—men, weapons, and neelots. I don’t have time to prepare it; I have to dress for the Messiah’s feasting. Have Greth attend to the counting as soon as he arrives.” Muttering to himself, he was turning to go when Kirk jumped down and called to him.
“Was the Messiah pleased with your gift of spearstone?”
“I couldn’t get close enough to tell him about it,” Tram Bir grumbled. “Obeisance was by ranking of clans, and I was so far back in the line that the ceremony started before I could get to him. It’s thanks to your healing that my numbers are enough so I wasn’t the last of the chiefs. As it is, though, I’ll have to sit in the last row as we feast.” His unhappiness about his placement was evident in his voice.
“Preference shouldn’t depend on numbers alone,” Kirk commiserated. “If there were just some way you could attract the attention of the Messiah… I know that if you just had a chance to talk with him he would see at once—as I did—that you are a leader among leaders, a warrior whose fierce courage and wisdom in battle fit him to be chief of chiefs…”
“I agree,” Tram Bir said, waving a hand to interrupt Kirk. “But how could I attract the attention of one so mighty?”
“We Beshwa are practical men,” Kirk said. “If you stood at the Messiah’s right hand, we couldn’t help but benefit. I think I know a way.”
“What is it?” Tram Bir said eagerly.
“A gift only you can offer. God-touched though it is, the Messiah’s spirit inhabits a man’s body, even as yours and mine. Think back to last night–what happened when our sister danced?”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Kirk shivered and pulled his cloak tighter about him as he paced near the Beshwa caravan. Cold gusts of wind blew from the west, bringing smoke and fine ashes from the still-smoldering embers of the fires. Thunder clouds building on the western horizon held a threat of rain. To the north, the sky began to lighten with the first flickerings of an aurora. Two of Kyros’ moons had set and the third wouldn’t rise for several hours. The camp was quiet except for occasional shouts and bursts of raucous laughter from the Messiah’s pavilion.
“What’s taking him so long?” McCoy muttered.
“I told him to wait until the Messiah had several cups under his belt. Chag Gara was as much a lush as he was a lecher. When Spock was imprinted, the process wasn’t selective.” Kirk glanced at the sky. Stars were winking out as the thunderclouds rolled eastward.
“I wonder what’s going on up there?” McCoy asked.
“It’s getting ready to storm, what else?”
“No, I mean on the Enterprise.”
“They’re sweating us out—and getting ready for evacuation, just in case. Radiation will reach redline in fifteen hours or so.”
“Where will they go?… If they have to, that is,” Chekov asked.
“I told Sulu to break the crew up into groups of forty to fifty and to scatter them among the neighboring city-states. Four hundred and twenty-five strangers showing up in one place would be a bit too much. After the life they’ve had, it isn’t going to be easy to be exiles on a backward mud-ball like this; but they’re all bright people, they’ll survive. At least they won’t starve. Thanks to Scotty’s money machine, they’ll all be coming down with full purses.”
“And when the Messiah comes?” Chekov asked.
‘They’ll fight.”
“Stop it, you two,” McCoy said. “You’re having a wake before the patient is dead.”
Sara came out of the van. “The costumes are ready,” she said. “Come on in and try yours on. Wait till you see what Scotty made for me.”
Scott looked up from an improvised workbench as they came in. “How do you like this?” he said, holding up a stylized golden mask of a creature half cat and half woman. “We had to figure out some way to cover Sara’s face so Spock wouldn’t recognize her.”
“Beautiful,” McCoy said, picking it up and turning it over in his hands. “But how did you make it?”
“I used gold foil from the trade goods and the rest from your medikit. Sara modeled the features from that foam for making casts. I used that as a matrix for the gold foil. When the foil was shaped, I removed it and sprayed the inside with duraplast to give it strength. A little trimming, a couple of eye holes, and that was that. Not a bad job, if I do say so myself.”