The Cup of Golden Death
by Gardner F. Fox

His fingertips brushed gently at the earth surrounding the curving
edge of something that glittered with golden fire under the rays of
the hot Lurydian sun. His heart thudded wildly under his mail shirt <hauberk>
and leather jacket. For a moment Niall of the Far Travels drew back
away from what he had found and stared about him.

Everywhere his eyes went, he saw the flat moors, a wild desolation
of empty land where once had stood part of the kingdoms of the
Five Gods. Nearby were the tumbled stones of a citadel, long ago
abandoned by whoever had inhabited it. Gone were the men and
women of that kingdom; only remained now the fables and the
legends.

Niall was hunting for one of those legends.

His huge hand went out to the sand, brushed more avidly at it.
The tiny grains flew away, disclosing a rounded bit of metal. The
breath came short and fast now to his lungs; excitement was awash
inside him.

"Maralia!" he bellowed.

?Maralia!? he bellowed.
A girl came running across the flat moorland, her red hair glinting
in the sunlight. She wore a thin, short skirt and a vest, and little more.
The vest was held together by silver chains, and it was decorated
with silver thread that bespoke her rank as high priestess of the
god-being, Humalorr.

She fell to her knees beside him, her eyes hungry at the sight of
that which he had partially uncovered. Her tongue came out to
moisten her ripe, red lips.

?Have you found it? Is it the?cup of the god??

Niall grunted. ?Who knows? I?d stake my life on the fact that it?s a
ceremonial cup of some kind, but whether it belongs to your god or
not, you yourself have to decide.?

Maralia slid her eyes sideways at this big blond youth who was
the warlord of Urgrik and a great favorite of its king, Lurlyr Manakor.
He was also held in high regard by Queen Amyrilla, for was it not
Niall of the Far Travels who had saved Amyrilla from the death
promised her by Thyra, who had been queen before her? It was
also whispered that Niall of the Mighty Arms was oddly favored by
the demon-queen Emalkartha of the Eleven Hells.

Maralia was afraid of Niall.

Yet she was sworn to do what had been whispered into her ears
by the high priest short days ago, when they had been last in Urgrik.
Niall was to go with her to the moors of Lurydia. There they were to
find the ancient cup which once had been used by the wizard 
Yellixin, in the ancient days when there had been a citadel standing
where they now knelt.

After that--

Maralia swallowed. She was to kill Niall and bring the cup back to
the high priest, to Aldon Hurazin himself. And Aldon Hurazin would
hide the cup so that it might not be used to save the life of Lurlyr
Manakor.

She whispered, ?I can?t tell. It?s half hidden by the dirt. Remove
it, Niall.?

He put out his big hands, dug his massive fingers into the ground,
tightened them about the cup. As he did so, his flesh tingled, and
something in his brain whispered to him that this cup was evil. Evil!

Niall shook himself. No need now to worry about any evil. He
and the girl were all alone, far out here on the moors. There were no
enemies about. Even if there were, Niall did not fear them. Not if they
were human enemies, anyhow.

The cup came upward out of the ground and the sun blazed
down on it, making it shimmer, making it seem to draw brightness
from the sunlight, so that it shone as if with inner fire.

Maralia stared, whimpering.

Oh, she had heard tales of this cup! She knew how it was used by
Yellixin long, long ago, of how it helped him perform some of the
mightiest magic that had ever been worked by man, Now she was to
take the cup, bring it to Aldon Hurazin.

Yet first, she must kill Niall.

He would never let her take the thing to the high priest. Pundor
Everit, who was the king?s physician, was awaiting the cup, hoping to
use it and its magic power to cure Lurlyr Manakor of the illness which
was slowly sapping his strength, slowly killing him.

Pundor Everit had tried everything else, to no avail. The king still
lay in a deathlike trance. If something drastic were not done, he
would die. And so, by order of Queen Amyrilla, NiaII and she had set
out for the moorlands of Lurydia.

Let it go, Niall! Now! At once!

His big hands opened and the cup fell to the ground.

Ha! That had been the voice of Emalkartha speaking to him, the
goddess of the Eleven Hells, who had first come to him in human
shape as Lylthia. Since then, the goddess had been protector and
lover to him, and looked with jealous eyes on any who sought to take
Niall for her own.

He waited, but the voice spoke to him no more.

Maralia cried out and reached for the cup, catching it in her
hands almost crooningly. She bent over it and stared down into its 
bowl, as though she sought to read the future in it. Niall eyed her
wonderingly. Why should she be able to hold this thing and he not?
 

6
 

He sighed. It was a question to which he really wanted no
answer. Sufficient for him was the fact that Emalkartha thought it
dangerous to him.

Maralia lifted her eyes to stare at Niall. They were black, those
eyes, and it seemed to Niall as he met them that they were merciless.
But that was silly. What could a girl like Maralia do to him? True, she
could slide a dagger between his ribs while he was asleep, but he did
not believe her capable of that. No, he was being overly imaginative.

He rose from his knees, brushing the moor dirt from them. ?We
have the cup. Time now to be returning. The king is dying; we must
hurry."

Maralia still knelt there, clutching the cup to her bosom. She
seemed so little, so helpless, there on the ground. She was a pretty
thing, too. Her body was well-rounded and her legs were very
shapely. The vest was partly open, to show a swell of breast

Niall! She is dangerous!

He had to grin. Trust Emalkartha to keep an eye on him when he
went traveling across half a world with only a pretty female beside
him. He wondered if she had been watching ever sine they left
Urgrik.

Indeed I have. For your own protection.

He could almost hear her sniff.

"You going to kneel there all day?? he asked.

Maralia shook her head so that her black hair swirled about her
shoulders. ?No. No, of course not."

She got to her feet and walked ahead of him toward their little
encampment. His eyes dwelt on her swaying hips, her curving legs.
His eyes left her almost reluctantly, but he knew better than to make
Emalkartha angry at him. Something inside him made him vaguely
aware that he would need that goddess very desperately before he
got back to Urgrik.

As he came up to the small fire he had built to cook their evening
meal, he said, "We?ll sleep the night here, then make an early start."

She did not hear him. She was seated on a stool before her tent,
bent over the cup, staring down at it with wide eyes, as though the
golden bowl were communing to her. Niall watched her a moment,
then shurgged.

He busied himself with thort steaks, with a winesack. They had
plenty of food, enough wine. He had expected to be here far longer.
It had been sheer luck that had made him see the rim of the cup
where it projected above the moorland, its gold caught by the rays of
the sun.

Or--had it been luck?

Were there forces here at work that he did not understand? Was
some god anxious to cure Lurlyr Manakor? Could that be why he
had found the cup so easily? Niall felt uneasy. He did not like gods
and goddesses-excepting always Emalkartha, of course! They
were too selfish, too unconcerned with the well-being of humans.

He cooked the steaks, giving them all his attention. There was a
hunger in him for meat, for wine. It may have been because he had
not eaten since dawn, and it was almost sunset now. He turned the
steak over and watched as the flames seared it.

He glanced over at Maralia.

She was not there. The stool stood empty.

He rose to his feet and turned.

The girl stood within three paces of his back, and there was a long
dagger in her hand. In her other hand she held the cup.

Their eyes locked, and Niall told himself that Maralia looked
murderous, almost as if she had been going to plunge that long
Orravian dagger into him. But that was nonsense.

He grinned at her. "You going to cut me-or that steak I?m
cooking for your meal?"

She seemed to emerge from a daze. "What? Oh. The steak, of
course. What else?"

Her feet carried her past him to the fire. She bent down to slice a
portion of a steak. Niall eyed her curving rump. He ought to slap that
pretty rump of hers, bring her back to the world around them. She
seemed almost to be sleepwalking.

He watched her move toward her stool and seat herself, clutch-
ing the steak with both hands and biting into its succulent meat with
strong teeth. The cup was between her feet. Well, let her guard the
cup, then. He didn't want anything to do with it, except to get it back
to Urgrik in time to save Lurlyr Manakor's life.
 

7

They ate silently, Niall relishing the thort steak and the swallows <link>
of wine he took right from the sack itself. The girl ate nothing beyond
that first piece she had sliced off. Well, that was all right with him. He
could eat it all.

The stars were out now, and as he eyed them, he felt tiredness
creep into his muscles. They had come fast and far from Urgrik, they
were mounted on the best horses the palace could supply, and they
had made good time. But now his big body was tired.

He rose to his feet, stretching.

Maralia was still crouched on her stool before her tent, clasping
the cup and staring down at it. Niall said, "I'm going to sleep."

She paid him no attention. It was as if she did not hear him, that
her thoughts were far away. Niall studied her a moment, then
shrugged. Let the girl dream. She could sleep in the saddle
tomorrow.

He lay down on the blanket that was both mattress and pillow for
him, and his eyes closed. In moments, he was asleep . . .

Niall--wake!

His eyes snapped open. Maralia was crouching by him and that
long Orravian dagger was uplifted, about to plunge into his throat.

Niall was like a wild animal in his movements. All his life he had
fought, had been faced with danger. Now he reacted like a panther.
His left arm lifted, hit the hand that held that dagger, drove it
sideways. At the same time his right hand came up and clouted the
girl on the side of her head.

He knocked her across the tent where she fell in a limp huddle.
Niall had risen to his knees. His hand reached for the dagger that he
had driven from her hand and tucked it into his belt. Then he rose to
his feet and crossed to where she lay.

She was breathing; he hadn?t killed her with that blow. But her
cheek would show the mark of his hitting for a few days.

Niall caught up some rope and tied her hands behind her back,
then hobbled her ankles. Let her sleep, he told himself. In the
morning he would tie her on her horse and, like that, take her back to
Urgrik.

He walked out into the night and scowled down at the fire. Why
had the girl tried to kill him? Had this been the second time she had
attempted to do so? She had been right behind him with that dagger
before they had eaten. Of course, she had said she was merely going
to cut the steak. But that might have been an excuse thought up on
the spur of the moment.

But--why? Why should she want to kill him?

"You?re a big innocent fool, that's one reason,? said a voice off
to one side.

Niall whirled, his hand going to the hilt of his great sword Blooddrinker.
A woman stood in the shadows, barely revealed by the
fireflames. She wore a torn garment that clung to her body here and
there, and exposed more of it than it hid. Long hair, as black as
Corassian ebony, hung to her shoulders.

"Lylthia!" he bellowed, and ran toward her.

Laughing, she sought to dodge him, but his arms were too quick.
He caught her soft body up against his own and covered her mouth
with kisses. She clung to him with her arms, urging her body into his,
but after a moment she tried to push away, banging on his broad
shoulders with both fists.

"Let me go, silly! You?re worse than a Porangan bear! You?ll
snap my ribs."

His arms eased their hold on her a little, but she snuggled up
against him, her head resting on his chest. ?Have you missed me??
?As I?ve missed your kisses, your caresses.?

?Ha! You?ve been eyeing that wench you have with you often
enough.?

He grinned. ?She tried to knife me, the little tart. I think she?s
gone mad.?

"No, no. She was ordered to kill you, just as soon as you found
the cup."

"But why?"

7

"Because Aldon Hurazin wants the cup. He saw his chance when
your king fell ill. He talked the physician into agreeing to send you
and the high priestess for the cup."

Lylthia sighed. "The girl was to kill you and bring the high priest
the cup. And so I warned you, woke you from sleep to make you
SAVE your life."

She leaned against him and shook her head. "We have a pretty
tangle here, my love. Aldon Hurazin wants the cup?and so does the
god he worships, Humalorr."

Niall scowled. "Maybe my wits have abandoned me, but if the
god wants it, why doesn?t he ask his high priest to get it for him?"

"Because if Aldon Hurazin gets his hands on that chalice, it will
give him great power over his god. Humalorr will have to grant him
all his wishes."

Niall sat down on a stool and drew Lylthia down beside him. His
arms were about her, holding her to him, even as he asked, "So what
do we do?"

"1st of all, I have to keep you alive. I haven?t decided about the
cup. I may give it to Humalorr as a favor, or I might keep it in one of
my eleven hells?just to make certain that Humalorr doesn?t try to
blame you for what may happen."

Niall ran his hand up and down her smooth thigh. Lylthia
whispered, "You are very foolish. You should be worrying about
what may happen."

His grin was infectious. "I'd rather think about you. It?s been a
long time since you came to me."

She sighed and kissed his lips. "Later, my big barbarian. When
all this trouble has been removed.? She scowled at him. ?You worry
me, you know. You don?t take danger seriously. And there is danger.
Much danger."

"But not Now," he said softly, his hand caressing her back.

Lylthia sat up straighter, pulling away from him. "The cup.
Where is it?"

"Somewhere about. Maralia never lets it get far away from her,"

"Go look for it, Niall. But on your life, don?t touch it."

He sighed as she rose from his lap and then got to his feet. "It
ought to be somewhere around. You wait here."

She did not stay where he had told her, but walked with him as he
padded about the camp. The cup was nowhere to be seen. Niall
stared at his tent, where he had left the girl. Could she have brought
the cup into his tent while on her mission of death"

Niall walked forward, vaguely aware that Lylthia walked in his
footsteps. He strode to his tent, drew back the flap. Instantly his eyes
went to the figure of the tied-up Maralia.

"By the Eleven Hells!" he rasped.

The girl at his side whispered fiercely, "The cup, Niall! Throw a
blanket over it-or the girl will die!"

The cup was gleaming with brilliant golden fire that reached out
in all directions. But mainly it seemed to be stretching out aureate
tendrils toward the unconscious girl. And where those tendrils
touched her--

Her skin was tinted golden!

2

Niall moved like a striking panther. His hand shot out, caught up
a blanket, tossed it over the cup. Instantly the tent was dark, with
only the faint red flames of the fire outside it touching its interior with
reddish light.

The gold that had touched the girl was still upon her. Niall
crouched, moving forward, hand out. His fingers went to her arm,
which shone like the arm of a golden statue in the fireflames. He
touched what seemed to be cold metal.

Yet, even as he touched, warmth came to his fingers and he saw
that the golden pallor of her skin was fading.

Above him, Lylthia whispered, "There was not enough time for
the cup to do its task."

Her words made Niall shudder and he turned to stare up into her
eyes. ?Are you telling me that??

?Yes, yes! Of course I am! Do you think me so weak as to be
frightened of any normal thing? I tell you that cup is evil. Evil! Just as
evil as Yellixin the wizard was evil.

?A thousand centuries ago, Yellixin dwelt here on this moor, in a
castle the ruins of which have sunk into the soft ground over all the
years. Yellixin, who searched the stars and the gulfs of space about
them for gods to serve him.

?He found Humalorr and learned how to take control of him
through a cup made of this special gold, gold he found in a big lump
in a cavern deep in the Kalbarthian Mountains. He hammered out
that gold himself after melting it down with special incantations.
Melted it down and shaped it, always whispering spells, as though to
seal each magical word into the very shape and metal of the cup.?

Lylthia clutched his hard shoulder. ?There is a tale told of how a
man who worshipped Humalorr came to Yellixin and stole the cup. It
was after the cup was stolen that Humalorr destroyed the castle
Yellixin had built and all within it, and took the magician off into the
worlds of Humalorr to torture him for all eternity.?

Before them, Maralia stirred and murmured in broken words,
and her face was a mask of awful fright. Her lids went up, her black
eyes stared at Niall.

?You live,? she whispered. ?Oh, thank all the gods! I?I tried to
kill you because Aldon Hurazin wanted you dead. I was to bring the
cup to him and?the cup! Where is it??

?Hidden under that rug. Rest easy, now. You?re safe enough.?

His hand touched the thick red hair of the high priestess, and as
he caressed that hair and the eyes of the girl gleamed up at him, Niall
felt Lylthia?s nails bite into his arm.

Suddenly Maralia noticed Lylthia. Her eyes focused on her, and
it seemed to Niall that they were terrified eyes. ?Who is?she??
Maralia whispered.

?A wanderer on the moor,? said Lylthia slowly. ?I was ill and half
out of my mind when I saw your fire and came toward it.?

Maralia glanced at Niall. ?I am afraid,? she whispered. ?Afraid of
the cup?yet just as afraid of Aldon Hurazin and what he will do to
me when I come back to him without it. He will kill me slowly by
tortures.?

She shuddered. Lylthia slipped past Niall and knelt, her hand to
the girl?s forehead. ?Sleep now. No harm will come to you.?

Maralia closed her eyes. In moments, she was asleep. Over her
reclining figure, Niall stared at Lylthia.

?What now?? he whispered hoarsely. ?Now that we have the
cup, what are we going to do with it??

?Carry it with us, until I can make up my mind what ought to be
done with it.?

Lylthia moved away from the sleeping Maralia, bent to wrap the
cup more securely in the blanket. She carried it out to the fire and put
it down. She stood then, staring down at it, frowning thoughtfully.
Niall came up to her, put his arm about her shoulders and brooded
with her at the cup. . . .

Morning dawned across the Lurydian moorlands in a blaze of
crimson sunlight. It tinted the few rocks a dull scarlet, and the edges
of the thick heather a leaden bronze. Soon now those colors would
change as the sun turned golden, but for now there was a dreaminess,
an unreality, across the land.

Niall woke Maralia, told her to go eat while he folded their tents
and made packs for their horses. It took him only a little while, then
he went to squat down beside Lylthia and reach for some of the meat
she had been roasting.

?We will travel fast,? he told them, noting that Maralia edged
closer to him. ?There are roving bands of outlaws here and there on
the edges of the moors. They live here because it is a lonely,
abandoned countryside, yet it is close enough to the caravan routes
to make it profitable for them.?

?Suppose we meet these bandits?? Maralia whispered, eyes
wide.

"Then we'll have to run--or fight." Niall shrugged. ?We have
fast horses. We may be able to outdistance any pursuit. But we must
remain together.?

He helped Lylthia up into the saddle, then did the same for
Maralia. A moment he paused, looking up at the high priestess.

"I'll tie the blanket that holds the cup to my saddle,? he told her.
?Don't try to touch it again. If you do, it means your death."

She looked down at him, her eyes hooded. Niall could not read
those eyes, but he told himself if she were fool enough to try and hold
that cup again, she deserved the fate that would overtake her. That
cup was devil-spawned. It was accursed, filled with all the magics
with which Yellixin could imbue it.

His great shoulders shrugged. He had warned her; he could do
no more. His head lifted and he stared north and eastward in the
direction of Urgrik. They had a long road yet to travel.

He swung into the saddle and with Lylthia riding easily beside
him, he headed away from the ancient ruins of the City of the Five
Gods. They rode at a swift canter, then at a gallop. From time to time,
Niall slowed the horses to a walk, to conserve their energies. If they
were to meet danger, he did not want to be astride a tired horse.

All that day they rode, until the moorlands changed slowly into
great, rolling plains where the grass was high and swayed easily to
the wind which swept across them. They did not stop for a noontime
meal; Niall was in too much of a hurry for that. These grasslands
were the home of the bandits who preyed on the caravans following
the roadway between Urgrik and distant Noradden on the shore of
the Pulthanian Sea.

As he rode, Niall scanned the prairies, alert for the slightest hint of
movement. As yet he had seen nothing and no one, but he was too
much the realist to believe that he might go a second time unseen
through these lands.

When he had crossed them on his way to the City of the Five
Gods?or what was left of it?he and the high priestess had traveled
at night. He might have waited until the stars were out to come this
way a second time, but there was an impatience in him to be rid of
the cup.

Niall did not like gods or magic. He was a man and he would have
preferred to fight a dozen men than have anything to do with
necromancy. Still, he lived in a world where magic was almost away
of life, and so he had always to be on his guard.

As the sun set and long shadows began to creep over the prairie,
his left arm lifted to signal a halt to his companions. Maralia drooped in
the saddle, and even Lylthia showed some of the strain of the long ride
in her lovely face.

"We camp here,? he told them. ?It?s as good a place as any.? His
arm moved to call their attention to a stand of great rocks, off to one
side, where a few trees grew. ?That?s likely to be an oasis of sorts,
with water. We?ll stop there.?

They walked their horses closer to the rocks. Niall swung from
the saddle with a warning to the women to stay where they were. He
drew Blood-drinker and advanced cautiously, bent over a little, his
eyes scanning those tumbled rocks and the somewhat stunted trees.
He leaped onto the rocks, moved from one to another with great
bounds.

Then he was on the lip of a flat stone, staring downward at a tiny
pool of water surrounded by grass. It was a beautiful place, unsuspected
by chance passersby, a haven for the weary, a tiny fragment
out of Paradise. Exultation swelled in Niall?s chest. Here they
would spend the night. Here they would rest for the rest of their
journey back to Urgrik.

He did not notice the tiny mist that swirled lightly above the pool
waters.

He went down the rocks and to the women.

"Come. We sleep here the night. There is water to drink and
grass for the horses. We can build a cooking fire that will not be
noticed because of the rocks around."

They led the horses up the lowest of the rocks. The animals had
to scramble, but Niall was always there to lend a hand or a push at a
mount?s hindquarters. Within moments, they were inside the rockbowl
and standing on the grass.

They drank the pool water, then led their horses to it. Niall built a
fire and Lylthia brought the thort steaks to the flames. Maralia went
off by herself to a rock at the edge of the pool and sat with her bare
feet dabbIing in the water.

The stars came out clear and bright overhead, and there was a
cool breeze whispering about them. Maralia yawned and sought her
blanket. Lylthia leaned against Niall and let him caress her.

The mists upon the water thickened slightly and stirred, moving
this way and that. From where they sat, staring into the fireflames,
Niall and Lylthia did not notice.

Finally the girl yawned. ?I?m sleepy,? she admitted. ?It was a
long ride and I?m not used to such things.?

Niall nodded. ?I can sleep myself. But let?s lie here, close beside
each other.?

They stretched out beside the fire. Their eyes closed. They slept.

Slowly now the mists gathered, oozed slowly outward from the
water, onto the land and toward the three sleeping humans, almost
as if in curiosity. They touched Maralia, slipped from her feet upward
onto her thighs and rounded hips, her breasts. The high priestess
stirred, moaning faintly.

Her eyes opened, dreamily. She felt very relaxed, so much so
that she did not want to move. And yet something in the back of her
mind nagged at her. What was it that was so important? She stirred
restlessly.

The mists went also to Niall, enveloping his giant frame. And
since his arms were about Lylthia, holding her to him, they touched
her as well.

For long moments the mists dwelt upon these invaders of their
poolside. They swirled and danced, they crept into all the pores of
these human bodies, and as they did, they sang softly, almost
silently. . . .
 

Maralia rose and stood wide-eyed, dreaming.

Niall moved his hands upon the body of Lylthia, and the girl
sighed faintly, moving her body closer to that of the man she loved.
Niall caught her up, drew her closer, and his lips descended on her
mouth. Lylthia arched her back and murmured deep in her throat.

There was silence everywhere about the little oasis, except for
the soft cries of Lylthia and the deep rumblings of the big barbarian,
Maralia made no sound as she moved across the grasses to where a 
blanket was twisted and folded about the golden cup.

Maralia squatted down, her hands going to the blanket, lifting it 
away from the chalice. Now the cup was free, seeming to gather
brightness from the very darkness about it.

The chalice gleamed as if with inner fires. Ever more golden it
became, until it glittered so brightly it might have blinded the eyes.
Yet it did not blind the high priestess who knelt before it, hands
outstretched, She gloried in that golden effulgence, gathered it to
her as she might a perfume with which to salve her flesh.

The golden brightness sang to her, causing her to forget everything
about herself: her name, her rank among the priestesses of the
god Humalorr, her very self. Kneeling there, her arms outstretched,
she became aware of nothing but that golden light. . . .
 

Morning came slowly to the man and woman still stirring together
lazily upon the grass. They had been and still were asleep, but this
was a deeper sleep than any either had enjoyed. It was a sleep not
only of the senses but a sleep as well of the spirit.

Niall opened his eyes. He held the sweat-drenched body of
Lylthia tightly to his own. Their limbs were intermingled, they lay as
lovers upon the grass. Waking so, ordinarily he would have been
delighted, but there was a vague memory within him, a recollection
of something which had taken possession of him so recently.

Lylthia opened her own eyes, staring into his own, He saw a sick
awareness in those grey eyes that looked up at him. She groaned.

?We have been slaves to the evil gods this night,?? she whispered.

Niall nodded: ?I think so myself. But how did it happen? Why??

Lylthia pushed away from him, rose to her feet. Her eyes went to
the pool waters, to the rocks about it, and her palms clapped together
angrily.

?Fool that I am,? she breathed, ?I should have known this place!
It is haunted by the spirits of the dead godlings who have been cast
out of their heavenly homes. They live here, weakened and almost
helpless, but there is given to them at times the power to enter into
people to grant humans what they most desire. . . . ?

Niall grinned. ?Well, I can believe that, I want you most of all,
and last night I??

?Niall! Look!?

Her outstretched finger brought his eyes across the remains of
the little fire. Niall stared.

Where Maralia had been crouching before the golden cup, there
was now a golden statue. It was Maralia, but a Maralia turned from
flesh and blood into solid gold!

Niall rasped a curse. Were his eyes deceiving him? But no.
Maralia?or what had been Maralia?was solid gold. His hand
touched her, felt the metallic hardness of what had been her flesh.
Even her garments had been altered, were now also gold.

He snarled, reached for the fallen blanket, tossed it about the
cup. Niall drew a deep breath, staring at what was no a statue. No
longer the breathing, living Maralia, but a dead thing, an inanimate
object. His eyes lifted to Lylthia.

?Can we?restore her to life?? he asked.

She shook her head. ?No. What the cup touches?it takes. She
is dead now, her flesh and bones changed miraculously.?

Niall shook himself. ?Let?s get out of here while we can.?

Lylthia gestured at the statue. ?And that??

He shrugged. ?We leave it here. We can?t carry it.?

He moved towards the horses, It was at that moment that his eyes
caught movement off to one side, toward the rim of the little oasis,
Niall straightened, his hand going to his swordhilt.

Men were moving along the rim of the oasis, men on horses,
hardfaced men in ragged clothing some in mail shirts, all of them
heavily armed, He glanced here and there and as he looked, more
and more of these ragged desert riders came into view, until they 
surrounded the oasis.

They sat in their saddles, staring down at him. Lylthia stood frozen,
eyeing them, turning her eyes to Niall and then up at the rim, where
those horsemen stood like a wall.

Niall?s sword came out into the morning sunlight, even as Lylthia
sighed. She shook her head at him, saying, ?It?s no use. You can?t
defeat them all.?

One man among all those at the rim moved. He was an older
man, with streaks of grey in his hair and beard. He was a handsome
man, broad of shoulder and tall, and the hands that held the reins of
his horse were sun-bronzed and powerful,

His eyes flitted from Lylthia to Niall, and then they settled on the
golden statue. They widened, and he leaned forward in the saddle
the better to scan that aureate figure. The breath seemed to hiss in his
throat when he straightened up.

?Where did you get it?? he asked.

Niall grinned. ?We brought it with us.?

The older man let his eyes study the three horses. ?It would be a
tremendous burden for one mount,? he said softly. ?Unless one of
you walked, and the statue was carried between two horses. I am
afraid I do not believe you.?

The barbarian shrugged. He was content to talk with this man,
even as his brain tried to resolve the question of how they might win
free of his little army. Niall was realist enough to know that on this
desert where the bandits ruled supreme, there were few travelers
who met them who ever returned to tell about it.

Baradon smiled grimly. He was the captain of this outlaw band--
the most powerful of the thieves who dwell upon this desert world?
and he ruled them with a hard hand. In the tent-city which was his
home, he had gathered the fruits of many years of raiding upon the
caravans. Yet nowhere in his several tents was there anything as
valuable as this golden statue.

?You brought it to me, and for that I am grateful,? the bandit
chief said slowly. ?You also brought that one.? His hand gestured at
Lylthia. ?For that, I am grateful, too.?

Baradon chuckled. ?I shall take the statue and the woman and
your horses in exchange for your life. You are free to go.?

Niall grinned. On foot on these sands, a man would not last long.
A man would die under the heat of the sun and with only the water
he might carry. If Baradon permitted him water, that is.

His sword flashed out.

?I have a better idea,? Niall called. ?Send your dogs to kill me, or
come yourself, I refuse your offer.?

Baradon whirled his horse and lifted his arm. At that signal a
dozen riders came charging down the slopes, swords swinging in the
sunlight.

Lylthia cried out, but already Niall was moving, circling about,
making the riders rein in to follow his movements. As they did so,
Niall leaped for the nearest rider. His great sword whirled, came
down to split a man?s skull. Instantly, Niall was in the saddle, driving
the horse against the mount of his closest antagonist.

The blade sheared an arm; then Niall was in among the others,
driving Blood-drinker this way and that, cutting into faces, lopping
heads from necks, driving forward into chests. He fought like a man
maddened by drugs, and the heavy sword seemed like a feather in
his huge hand.

Men died, toppling from their saddles, and ever Niall evaded the
cuts and thrusts they aimed at him. Laughter burst from his lips,
together with taunting words.

?Is this the best you can do? Do you call this fighting? Fools!
Every one of you are dead men! Dead men sitting their saddles,
waiting for the moment my steel takes you.?

The men fought him as best they could, but Niall was no common
man. Born in the far northland, in Cumberia, trained to the
sword since earliest childhood, he was at once master of it and proof
against it. His reactions were akin to those of the wild animals of his
world. He was lightning in a human body.

As the last man fell before his steel, he drove his horse straight for
Baradon. The outlaw king rasped an oath and whirled to flee. He
was too slow.

The flat of Niall's blade took him across the back of his head.
Baradon pitched from the saddle to lie flat on the ground. Even as he
fell, Niall was dropping from the saddle to land beside him.

The point of his sword touched Baradon?s throat.

?Back!? bellowed Niall. ?Go back or your leader dies!?

The bandits who had come charging down the hill reined in now,
sitting and glaring at this madman who could fight like the fiends of
Farfanol. Their faces were grim, their eyes hard.

Let Niall kill Baradon, those grim eyes said silently, and he would
die. Powerful hands gripped the hilts of their swords, but they did not
use them.

Baradon stirred. Slowly he moved, his eyes opening. Over him
crouched Niall, a grim smile on his mouth. ?Do you want to live,
Baradon? Or shall I kill you here and now??

?If I die?you die, barbarian!?

?I die anyhow, according to your word.?

Baradon chuckled. ?It seems like stalemate, then.?

The sharp tip of Blood-drinker touched Baradon?s throat, drawing
blood. Niall growled. ?I am not a patient man. Die if you want. It
matters not to me.?

Baradon had dealt in his life with many men. He had come to
know them, to understand their individual weaknesses. But in this
huge barbarian crouched above him, he saw no weakness. The man
spoke truth. He would as soon plunge his blade into his neck and
take his chances with his men as not.

?Wait,? the outlaw gasped.

The sword tip moved away, but only slightly.


Baradon growled, ?I agree. My life for yours.?

?And for the girl?s. And for horses to carry us away out of this
forsaken desert.?

?Agreed.?

Niall smiled grimly. ?The statue I give to you. It shall be the price
of my life.? He paused. ?There is another gift I give you, Baradon. A
golden cup.?

?What cup??

Niall rose from his crouch, moved across the grass to where he
had thrown the blanket about the chalice. His hand raised the
blanket so that Baradon might catch a glimpse of the golden bowl.

?This thing. You can have it, if you want it.?

Baradon rose to his feet, suspicious. ?Now why should you give
me that? You could have snatched up the blanket that wrapped it
and gone away. I am always suspicious when men give me gifts I do
not ask for.?

?Then I?ll keep the cup.?

Baradon laughed. ?No, no. You made an offer. I accept it. The
statue and the cup for your life--and that of the girl.?

His hand waved and his men put away their swords in their
scabbards, turned their horses and rode to the top of the oasis rim.
Baradon himself walked toward his horse, mounted it. He sat and
watched as Niall went to Lylthia, clasping her arm and leading her
toward her mount, assisted her to rise up into the saddle.

Niall did not trust Baradon, yet the outlaw chief made no motion
to his men, but sat and watched as Lylthia and the barbarian urged
their horses up the grassy slope of the oasis and out upon the desert
sands. They rode swiftly, with Niall glancing back over his shoulder
every now and so often.

The barbarian grunted. ?I cannot believe we are alive,? he
growled. ?I mistrust Baradon. He will come after us, I am sure.?

Lylthia shook her head. ?It may be that he is satisfied with the
statue of Maralia and the cup.?

Niall grinned coldly. ?Let?s hope he unveils the cup and takes a
good long look at it. If he does, his followers will have another statue
to make them rich.?

The sun rose higher in the molten sky, beating down at them with
sullen heat. They had a long ride before them, Niall knew, before
they reached the forests of Malagon. Even there, they would not be
completely safe.

Lylthia said suddenly, ?What will happen to you when you do
not bring back the cup? Pundor Everit, the king?s physician, has said
the cup was needed to cure Lurlyr Manakor.?

?Then Pundor Everit is either a fool?to believe what Aldon

Hurazin has told him of the cup?s curative powers?or a villain who
works hand in glove with the high priest to encompass the king?s
death. I wish I knew which it was.?

They rode on through the long day.

3.

Niall slept well that night, when they had made camp and eaten.
He dreamed as he slept, and in that dream he walked along a road
that twisted through the mountains and led toward a great black
castle high atop a massive rock.
 

He was being drawn forward in his dream, drawn by a power
against which he could not fight. Useless to him was his great sword,
though it rested in its sheath. His great muscles tried to fight the
forward tug which was drawing him, but they were as if turned to
mush.

Step by step he advanced. Now the great rock was before him,
steps carved into it. He mounted those steps, came at last to a mighty
doorway. The huge door slowly opened, silently, and Niall saw a
long entry hall before him, and at its far end a sullen, reddish glow.

Toward the glow he walked.

Then he stood in cm archway of a great chamber. The floor of the
chamber was of polished black tile. The walls were hung with thick
scarlet draperies on which were worked, in black-gold stitchings,
strange signs and sigils, the sight of which made Niall?s flesh crawl,
and caused the hairs on the back of his neck to rise straight out.

There was a vast throne at the far end of the room, and on the
throne sat--

Niall was not sure what it was he looked at. It seemed to be an
enormous blob of blackness shining brightly from the reflection of
the dark candles lighted here and there about the throne. There was <tallow? wax?>
no shape to that mass, yet Niall sensed the extraordinary intelligence
which dwelt inside it.

?Welcome, Niall of the Far Travels. Long have 1 admired your
daring, your warlike skills. Now I have summoned you to me, to
command you to my use.?

The voice was booming; it echoed from the four walls of the great
chamber. Niall had the vague feeling that if the black blob had
wanted to, it could have blasted him just by the sound of its inhuman
voice.

?How may I serve you?" Niall asked slowly.

A chuckle was his answer. ?You know me not. Yet you are
willing, perhaps, to be my servant. I like that in you, Niall. It shows
you are a clever man.

?This then, is what I want. You found the cup Yellixin fashioned.
You gave it to the bandit Baradon. I want it. Find it, take it to my
palace in Urgrik, and hold it there for me. Give it not to Aldon
Hurazin, on your life!?

Niall growled, ?And how am I to take it from Bradon? He is an
outlaw chief, with masterless men about him who obey only his
voice.?

?I shall be with you, I promise. Go, now. Go!?
 

Niall woke to the first faint rays of a cold dawn. He lay in his
blankets, shivering a little, not from the cold but from the memory of
his dream. It had been so real! To one side of him lay Lylthia, eyes
open and staring at him.

?You dreamed of Humalorr, my love.?

Niall ran thick fingers through his mane of hair. ?Was that who it
was? A blob of darkness on a throne in a great, dark hall??

?Aye. that would be Humalorr. He sent for your soul last night,
and brought it to his stronghold. He wants the cup, doesn?t he??

?He does. He says I am to get it for him.?

Lylthia nodded. ?Then let?s be on our way.?

Niall stared at her as she sprang to her feet. ?You would go get
the cup and give it to Humalorr?? he asked in astonishment.

Her mouth smiled slyly. ?I would get the cup. As for giving it to
Humalorr, I?m not so sure. But come. Mount up and ride.?

"After I eat."

She stamped her foot. ?Ride now. You can eat later. This I
promise you."

Niall shrugged. He was used to obeying this god-woman whom
he loved. He rose to his feet and moved toward the horses to saddle
them. Lylthia walked beside him, head down, frowning in thought.

All that day they rode, back to the oasis. As the setting sun threw
long shadows, they drew rein before the oasis, sitting their tired
horses and staring down at the pool of water?and at what they
could see grouped together to one side.

Where there had been one golden statue, now there were almost
thirty. Baradon was there, turned to gold, with every one of his
bandit riders. They crouched or stood, their eyes riveted to what lay
in the ground before Baradon.

Niall sighed. ?The fools.?

?They did not have me to warn them, Niall.?

?No, I grant you that. But now I have to go down there and get
that accursed thing.?

Lylthia slid from her saddle. ?You wait here. I shall fetch the
cup.? Her lips quirked into a wry smile. ?Its magic will have no effect
on me.?

He growled low in his throat, but one glance at those golden
statues changed his mind. Lylthia was a goddess. If anyone could
safely fetch the cup, she could. He dismounted and waited at the top
of the ridge as she went down the slope and walked toward those
aureate statues which had once been men.

He watched as she moved between those golden figures, lifting
the rug and tossing it over the cup. She caught it up in her hands and
brought it back up the slope, walking slowly, thoughtfully. Niall
wondered at her thoughts.

They rode off then, side by side, and now Lylthia rode with her
head bent as if communing within herself with whatever spirits the
gods and goddesses spoke with, from time to time. Niall eyed her
carefully, knowing that at such times he must not interrupt her train
of thought.

At last she raised her head and smiled.

?Tonight we will camp and try to raise Humalorr,? she
announced.

?Are you giving him the cup??

?Not yet. Not just?yet.?

When the campfire was blazing, after they had eaten, Niall sat off
to one side and watched as Lylthia knelt down and drew strange
sigils in the earth. As she did, the air about them grew frigid, so that
hoarfrost seemed to hang in space.

Niall shifted uneasily and drew his fur cloak closer about his
shoulders, wondering how Lylthia could stand that eerie coldness,
clad as she was in that patchwork ragged garment she was wearing.

He was about to call out to her when a deeper darkness began to
gather on the other side of the little fire. An ebony blackness grew in
size, shapeless yet with a strange malignancy about it.

"I have come, Emalkartha. What is it you want?"


Niall felt the hairs rise up on the back of his neck. For the life of
him, he could not move a muscle. This was Humalorr, drawn from
the hells he inhabited to this remote area, speaking in his booming
voice.

Lylthia who was also Emalkartha began to speak, yet for the life
of him, Niall could not understand what it was she was saying. He 
could see them both, and knew vaguely that Humalorr was responding
to whatever it was she was saying to him. Maybe the gods spoke
in a different tongue than the people of his world, but whatever
speech it was, Niall could not follow it.

They spoke long, Humalorr objecting at first, then grudgingly
agreeing to whatever it was Lylthia was suggesting. In time, the dark
god began to chuckle and then roared with strange, obscene
laughter.

Niall was relieved to hear him laugh. He had not thought him
capable of it. . . .

Then Lylthia was shaking his shoulder, waking him from sleep,
and smiling down at him gently. ?Everything is arranged, Niall. I
have convinced Humalorr that the plan I have in mind is a good
one.?

?What plan is that??

?It will be revealed to you in time. Now move over, I have a need
in me to sleep close beside you this night, to be held in your arms and
loved.?

Niall grinned. His sleepiness fled away as his arms went about the
soft body of this woman-goddess he loved. To Acheron?s dread pit
with the cup! This night he meant to forget all about it.

In the morning when he questioned her, Lylthia put him off with
a hug and a kiss. ?Forget what you saw and heard last night, Niall. It
was talk between the gods, and not right for a man to understand.?

Niall shrugged. That was fine with him, but he did need to know
what plan they were to follow. ?Am I to give the cup to the king?s
physician? Will it cure Lurlyr Manakor??

?No to both questions. Just ride. Let Fate decide what has to be
done.?

He chuckled. He was hungry after what happened last night
between Lylthia and himself. He lifted out what was left of the thort
steaks and began to cook them over the fire. With Lylthia beside
him, he told himself, he really didn?t have to worry about a thing.

All day they rode and all the following day, and now they came
within sight of the outlying hamlets and towns of the great kingdom
which Lurlyr Manakor rules. No one paid them the slightest attention,
they seemed to be just two wanderers lazily making their way
along the dusty roads.

It was not until they were riding into Urgrik, with the darkness of
night wrapped about them and only the reflected light off the shattered
rings that encircled the planet to give a ghostly light, that the
attack came.

Men rose up out of the shadows, swords and axes in their hands,
and came at them. Niall cursed; his hand swept to his swordhilt and
drew Blood-drinker out into the night air. His knees urged his horse
forward to shield Lylthia, and then he swung his blade.

He was not facing war-hardened warriors, he saw that at a
glance. These were ruffians hastily gathered from the alehouses,
sideways at Lyithia. She was a goddess, too. In human form right
now, but always a goddess. He supposed she knew what she was
doing.

He hoped so, anyhow.
 

4
 

It was close to the Hour of the Basilisk when Niall and Lylthia
drew rein before the house of the high priest which was set close by
the huge Temple of Humalorr. Niall came down out of the saddle
and with the pommel of his sword beat upon the thick oaken door.
Echoes sounded, yet they had to wait a little time before the door
creaked open.

A lesser priest stared out at Niall, eyes wide. “‘Wha—what is it?
What do you wa—want?”

“I am NialI, general of the armies of the king. I have with me a
cup, which is a present to the high priest.”

He put his hand on the door and pushed it open. The priest might
have pushed back, but NiaIl’s great size convinced him that he would
have Iittle chance of keeping him out. Besides, there was a woman
just behind the general whose eyes looked deep into the eyes of the
priest caused him to know a great fear.

The priest scurried ahead of them, down a corridor and up a
marble stairway. He began to run after a time, but when he slowed at
the doorway of a room in which many candles blazed, Niall and the
woman were right behind him.

Niall pushed the priest aside and strode into the room.

Aldon Hurazin had been studying the stars, etched out on sheets
of vellum. At the interruption, the sheets feII from his hands and he
started to his feet. His face was white, his eyes bulged.

“Niall,” he breathed.

The barbarian grinned. “I’ve already met your welcoming committee,”
he said slowIy. “They were a trifle impolite and I had to
chastise them.”

AIdon Hurazin swallowed hard. His eyes went to the hilt of the
sword this big man carried at his side. If Niall knew that he had sent
those assassins to slay him and steal the cup, why didn’t he drag out
that sword and cut him down?

“What do you want?” Aldon Hurazin whispered.

Niall felt the goddess enter into him, controlling his voice. “Why,
to give you what you sent me for. Unfortunately, your high
priestess—died—along the way. But she told me that you wanted
the cup and so I brought it to you.”

He lifted the rug that held the cup and placed it on the desk
beside the tumbled parchments. The lamplight caught the cup and
made it gIeam. Aldon Hurazin stared down at it, eyes wide, his throat
dry.

This golden bowl wouId give him everything he wanted! Power
unbelievable, power to rule Urgrik no matter who sat the throne. All
he had to do was give his orders, and the god HumaIorr would be
forced to obey him!

“Yes,” the high priest whispered. “Yes. You have done well,
Niall. I am a grateful man. I shall reward you for this, beyond your
wildest dreams.”

Niall said, “I seek no reward. It is enough for me to have served
you.”

The high priest shot him a glance. Had he misjudged this huge
barbarian? Was Niall ready to give allegiance to him, instead of to the
king?

Aldon Hurazin shook his head. “You are too modest. Yet I like
that in a man who serves me. You shall have much goId, whatever
women you may desire. But go now. Leave me with the cup.”

His eyes ate at that golden chaIice, as though they might absorb
it His hands quivered with the desire to Iift and fondle it.

NiaII turned and with Lylthia beside him, moved out into the hall,
where the priest was waiting, stilI shaking. It was Lyithia who
touched the priest, whispering, “Go now to your bed, and sleep,
Sleep well and deeply.”

The priest turned and waIked away. LyIthia swung about and
looked at NiaIl. Her hands came up and made strange patterns in the
air, and where they moved, something bright and shimmery came
into being,

A veil hung from her fingers, gossamer-thin but oddly bright, as
though gIistening stars were embroidered into its material. She lifted
her hands and tossed the veil into the air, where it hung across the
doorway.

“Watch now,” she said softly, “but move not if you value life.”

Niall stared into the chamber, seeing the priest bending above
the cup and staring down at it, a malicious smile on his lips.

Aldon Hurazin was muttering an incantation under his breath.
“Come to me, God of the Lesser Hells, Humalorr the Mighty, the
Cruel, the Evil! Come to my abode to serve me as once you served
the great YeIIixin.”

There was silence in the chamber then, except for the harsh
breathing of the priest. Niall knew a sudden fear, not for himself, but
for Aldon Hurazin. The fool! If he stared so on the golden bowl, the
same fate would overtake him as overtook the high priestess and the
bandits.

He wouId have said something of this to Lylthia, but her hand on
his arm, suddenly squeezing, cut off all speech.

A blackness was gathering in the chamber where Aldon Hurazin
stood. In his dream, Niall had beheld a blackness such as that,
formless and shapeIess, and knew it for HumaIorr. As he stared, that
darkness grew—and grew.

“Who calls Humalorr from his Lesser Hells?”
“I do! I, Aldon Hurazin, your high priest! Long have I worshipped
you, great Humalorr. But now it is time for you to serve me,
as once you served Yellixin, long ago. Aye, it is I you shall serve and
obey!”

The bIackness oozed forward, slowly but relentlessly.

“Say you so? And what is your command, Aldon Hurazin?”

The high priest looked vaguely startled, Niall thought. There was
mockery in the tones of the black god, mockery and—jubilation. It
was as though he toyed with the man who stood behind his desk and
gave him orders.

“I seek wealth. Wealth and power. No longer shall Lurlyr Manakor
ruIe in Urgrik. I shall rule. Aye, In Urgrik and in Angalore, in
far-off Cassamunda and in the countries bordering the Aztallic Sea.”

The black blob was closer now, much closer. It oozed along, and
where it went, it seemed almost to absorb all light.

“Is that all? Yellixin wanted the entire world. He almost got it. But
Yellixin was a clever man. He studied the ancient runes, the all-butforgotten
tomes. Have you done that, Aldon Hurazin?”

The high priest straightened. For the first time, there was a touch
of fright on his face. “I have studied—yes. But what has that to do
with you and me? I have the cup. You must obey him who owns it.”

“You forget, priest. Or perhaps you never knew. There are
words to be spoken with the cup. Words that bind me to serve him
who speaks them. What are those words, Aldon Hurazin?”

The face of the high priest was a mask of utter terror, now. He
caught the power in the words that had been addressed to him, the
malevolence and the derision. His eyes went this way and that about
the room.

“You must obey . . .” he whispered.

A chuckle broke from the god who was now so close to the high
priest. “Nay, now. If you know not the words—as your high
priestess did not—then neither the cup nor I must obey.

“Fool!”

The god’s words thundered out in the otherwise silent room.

The high priest screamed and turned to flee. But two great blobs
leaped from that which was the god; leaped outward and closed
about Aldon Hurazin.

At the touch of the darkness, the high priest screamed shrilly in
utter agony. His body bucked and twisted as though red-hot pincers
were being applied to his flesh. Again and again he screamed, trying
to fend off that which was slowly but surely enveloping him.

“Come you with me, Aldon Hurazin. Come you with me down
into my many HeIls, each of which you shall experience again and
again until time has no meaning for you beyond a pain that is
everlasting.

“In those Hells I rule, your scream shall be forever. Pain such as
you have never experienced shall be yours, as now it is Yellixin’s.
Forever, Aldon Hurazin. For all eternity. . . .”

The high priest was gone, hidden within the dark god. Now
Humalorr reached out for the golden bowl, and Niall saw it melt into
aureate droplets and become absorbed within the god.

Then the chamber into which they stared was empty.

The shimmering veil disappeared.

Niall swore softly. His face was wet with sweat, and only now that
Humalorr was gone could he breathe properly. Lylthia turned and
smiled up at him.

“I made a bargain with Humalorr, Niall. I would give him the cup
and Aldon Hurazin—in exchange for his future protection over
you.”

“Over me?” Niall was surprised, very much so. “You protect me.
Isn’t that enough?”

Lylthia snuggled up to him, and his arms went around her, “It
never hurts to have another god watching over you. Besides, when
you make love to me, I am very vulnerabIe. It's always best to be on
the safe side.”

Niall growled, “Well, I’ve done a lot, everything but what I was
sent to do. I don’t have the cup and the king is still sick, if he isn’t
dead by now.”

The goddess smiled. “Oh, your king is all better. That was part of
my deal with Humalorr. We cured him, he and I. Now you don’t
have anything to keep you busy.”

Niall grinned. It was something of a wicked grin, Lylthia thought
as she regarded it. “Nobody knows we came back to Urgrik. Why
don’t we just ride out for a week or two, just the two of us? I’ll make
up a story about the cup and how I had to make a deal with a god
about curing him before I’d give the cup to the god,”

Lylthia laughed. “Why not, indeed?”

He put his arm about her waist, and like that they walked from
the house of the high priest out into the cool night where their horses
waited. By dawn they could be far away, close to the empty lands
where they would camp and make love endlessly.

They mounted up and rode out of Urgrik.