"But why not?" Sergeant Orozco grumbled.

Gonji turned his mount to face the troop. "Ive already lost too many friends and sword-brothers to these killing corpses. Charging into them like wild boars is not the way. Anyway, I want to reach that fortress. Somehow...its secrets are important. Youll have to trust me. And anyway...Id like to keep most of you alive." With a growl, he wheeled them toward the desert interior. Valentina was the first to nudge her horse after him.

"Most of us?" Orozco puzzled.

His chafing warriors angled frustrated, jaw-clenching glances back toward the beach. The ghostly army now silently followed, eyes flashing darkly, with the time-skewing motion of fever-dream goblins.

To a man, they inwardly embraced Gonjis decision and pushed on into the desert.

They picked up Simon and his interpreter at the oasis as night thickened over the Sahara. They found him impatiently awaiting their arrival, scores of nomads seated around him under the date palms, jabbering in awe as he tried to ignore their attention.

"What did he want?" Gonji inquired, trying to show no amus.e.m.e.nt over Simons discomfiture.

"Typical heathen nonsense about a.s.suming the shapes of animals-listen," Simon said menacingly, "if you ever subject me to something like that again, Ill rip your head off."

"So sorry," Gonji replied evenly, "but Id have to prevent you."

They rode on into the desert fastness, Simon withdrawing from the others in anger. Gonji headed them southeast.

"Will we not make for Fezzan?" Ahmed asked with concern. "We can replenish our supplies there."

Gonji shook him off. "We go the way the old shaman pointed. Im chafing to find this fortress we seek. Many answers to many questions lie there. I am certain of it."

"I hope so, senor."

They trudged toward the lifeless vastness of the Libyan desert, a thousand miles of sand sprawling before them.

They rode by night in order to stay ahead of the nocturnal Dark Company, who followed ineluctably across the starlit expanse of arid wasteland, gliding like the huge, amorphous shadow of some flying horror. By day the pilgrim warriors erected crude shelters and rested and ate and kept watch and baked in the sultry heat and slept and argued and kept more vigilant watch and dehydrated and fought over trifling matters and thirsted and braved sandstorms and cursed at dying horses and always, always, first and foremost- They kept watch.

They watched for the undead a.s.sa.s.sins of the night-who kept pace no matter how hard they rode-to make an unprecedented appearance and attack by day. And they watched for the Turkish conquerors of this land, fearing to encounter a patrol at any time, day or night.

Gonji began to lose confidence after several nights of pushing on into the trackless desert. He had frankly expected some magical apparition-perhaps the ghost of Domingo herself-to suddenly guide them, to alleviate his burden of direction. He began to feel like karmas whipping boy again, bleakly recalling Emerics words. He rode with the wygyll emblem hanging at the tip of his bow, the only physical symbol of their mystery quest, half expecting it to inflame the night with sorcerous fire that would light their way.

But nothing happened. And in the night, only the Dark Company manifested supernatural power in the desert.

They rode for a many days and nights without even a token attack. Gonji fortified his band with the full revelation of all Domingo had told him, adding all his own speculations, his rationale for the journey, admiring them, appreciating them deeply for their near-irrational faith in the quest, in his leadership.

When the first a.s.sault of crossbow quarrels finally came, they found that they had indeed been lulled into complacency, taken the Dark Company for granted. The man whose spine was pierced by the shot had been riding along telling his partner a humorous tale of the road.

The rear third of the column ignored Gonjis order and split from the main body to turn and give chase to the undead a.s.sa.s.sins, who languidly steered their mounts into retreat.

Gonji rea.s.sembled them, and there ensued a violent disagreement instigated by the furious, exasperated warriors who were bent on running down the Dark Company, whatever sorcery empowered them.

Gonji was forced to relate again the outcome of his earlier bands similar effort. There was no hope of either escaping or catching the shadowy killers. No alternative at all but to find the legendary Fortress of the Dead and hope that there they might test the mad muftis lore about dealing with the evil hunters. For there, at least, they might make a stand, in that mysterious stronghold the witch Domingo had urgently steered him to.

"The evil dead follow us," Sergeant Orozco mused aloud, "so we seek a Fortress of the Dead."

"Makes a kind of crazy sense, no?" Buey observed, scratching an armpit, his wry expression almost pleading for it to be so.

They pushed on into the moonlit desert wilderness, and soon the Dark Company approached again in their wake, across the dunes. Unhurried. Taunting them with the promise of doom.

Sometime during the second week, they spotted Turkish scouts on a far-off dune, a.s.sessing them without drawing near. And two days later they found themselves in a pitched battle with a Turkish cavalry unit. The Wunderknechtens bows were easily a match for those of the Turks, who also possessed no firearms and could not attack at close quarters for fear of the partys guns.

They exchanged bowshot for nearly an hour, Gonji finally ceasing his partys fire to conserve their dwindling shafts. They were forced to move on in the blistering heat of the day, the Turks electing to trail them into the night.

"They got a big surprise coming soon, Id wager," Orozco said.

And sometime later, under the moons sickly glow, they watched the Turks swing wide to their left and gallop off toward the northeast. Taking up their place, far off in the churned-up sand, was the Dark Company.

"Well, theyre good for something," Buey noted by way of half-hearted encouragement.

"The Turks will be back," Ahmed declared sullenly, "and in swollen numbers."

The next day, a party of three-two Moriscos and Del Gaudio-convinced Gonji to allow them to ride back along the trail and see what they could discover. Their objective was to find some evidence of the Dark Companys whereabouts during the day.

"Perhaps theyre like the vampire," a Morisco posited. "They may sleep in the sand."

"Id like to catch that Abu-Nissar b.a.s.t.a.r.d and chop him into a few pieces we didnt think of last time," Del Gaudio put in.

"No," Ahmed reminded, "he must be strangled. Remember."

The company watched the three ride back along the trail amid the rising heat waves, to be lost in the glare, recovered ephemerally only in the personal mirages of a dozen people over the subsequent sweltering hours.

They were not seen again among the living.

That night, when the despondent survivors of Gonjis dwindling band took to horse, they saw the Dark Company ride nearer than ever before. And before the snarling shadow-cats, driven to frothing, came the steeds of the three, whose mutilated bodies were lashed backwards in the saddles.

"Jesus G.o.d Almighty," Luigi Leone said tearfully, "I pray Del Gaudio doesnt come back to life as one of them."

"Get hold of yourself," Gonji snapped. "Stay that kind of talk. I thought the mufti said the cats were harmless by day."

"Evidently he was wrong," Ahmed said with emotionless logic that evoked hostile looks among the Italians.

"Do you have any notion of what were heading toward?" Simon Sardonis asked Gonji quietly.

Gonji saw that Valentina was at the lycanthropes side. She was dividing her time these days between Orozco, Buey, Cardenas, and Simon, though the latter seemed uncomfortable in her presence. But the heat, the frustration, and the paranoia of his situation had caused Gonji to begin to think of them as having formed a conspiracy against him. And he could not blame them, for it seemed that the kami that augured death radiated her grim portent from their faces. From the faces of all in the band. Valentina-so chilly toward him now, yet so strong and uncomplaining, so supportive to the spirits of the others.

"Were running terribly short of water," Cardenas was saying, dispersing Gonjis foolish reverie.

The samurai rubbed his face and tipped his head toward the south. "The Tibesti Mountains, Ahmed says. Well drift that way. There we should be able to find water."

"So now we climb mountains," Orozco complained, spitting dust from between cracked lips.

The pounding of the sand was like a plague of blinding, devouring insects.

Four of the Dark Company a.s.sa.s.sins fanned out into the withering sandstorm to flank the refugees, two on either side. Bolts and shafts darted through the pelting sand, dropping two men and two mounts as Gonji shouted orders from behind his face-wrapping burnoose.

They could barely make out the forms of the reanimated a.s.sa.s.sins as they squinted through the swirling curtain of choking particles. They dismounted and sought cover behind the horses, having no choice but to sacrifice their mounts. Four more steeds fell in the next volley.

Gonji swore and unlimbered his bow, the others doing likewise. Shafts and pistol b.a.l.l.s launched outward at the deathless intruders, their familiar cats hunkering behind their mounts or melting into the storm. Again and again the a.s.sa.s.sins and their mounts were struck, but to no avail. A woman screamed, fell, taken in the belly by arbalest bolt. The mercenary beside her leapt out of cover to curse and draw his blade, driven to madness by their ordeal. He surged blindly through the lashing sand toward the silent killers. Two bolts tore into him, spinning him off his feet, one leg kicking high as he fell like bow-shot game.

The fighting men were screaming in terror and anger now, curses and prayers mixing in profane litany.

Gonji concentrated on the single target he had selected and focused on through the eddying sand-spouts. He had yet to launch a shaft, all thought fleeing before Zen discipline. One shot, one unerring shot guided by the hand of the wind kami, was his sole desire.

His horse fell before him, whinnying and kicking in its death-throes, but still he stood, arms tautened, sighting by instinct alone on the position of the hunkering creature with the red-devil eye-slits.

"The sirocco is their ally!" Ahmed was shouting despairingly as Gonji fired.

A keening cry-almost feminine in its shrill pitch- The temple cat rolled and lashed in the sand. The rider above it and just to the right lurched in his saddle. His arms and legs snapped out as if on invisible tethers.

And he was torn asunder.

Gonji had seen this phenomenon while a prisoner of the Inquisition: This a.s.sa.s.sin had met his death by being been drawn and quartered.

His eerie companions hissed at the refugees and wheeled off, the cracked, triumphant cries of Gonjis sand-choked band following them.

Eight left, the survivors were quick to remind one another. But this one had been costly. They would have to double up on the remaining horses, or walk in turns. But for the moment, all that mattered was their victory.

They warily moved out to examine the sundered a.s.sa.s.sin. But both he and the familiar who had guarded his dying moment were gone, consigned to the h.e.l.l from which theyd been reprieved.

Simon came loping back out of the sandstorm, shaking his head in reply before the question could be put to him. His tattered shirt sleeve and bleeding arm testified to how close hed come to one of the temple cats.

"Gonji," Valentina said earnestly, catching him by the arm, "I think Ive seen one of them before. The ones who attacked just now."

"What?" the samurai probed eagerly.

She nodded her head repeatedly. Turned to glance at the other eyes fixed on her. "One of them was from Toledo-I think. Im not sure."

"The one with the pikemans cuira.s.s," a renegade lancer described.

"Si-si," she agreed.

"But how did he die?" Gonji pressed forcefully, almost shaking her until he regained his composure.

She swung her head dejectedly. "I-how would I...? Im just not sure."

"d.a.m.n," Gonji growled, turning away. "These G.o.d-cursed walking corpses could have died in a thousand ways."

"It certainly wasnt by bow or pistol," a lancer named Gonzaga said, reloading.

"The end of a wonderful quest."

"Shut up, Simon," Gonji said between clenched teeth, scanning the ma.s.sed party of Turkish cavalry on the northern horizon.

"Im not going to die here," Simon went on. "There are rather more important things to be done in Europe than pursuing some witchs dying fantasy."

"Fine. Leave, then. Join the dead killers. Youll fit right in."

"Ive paid whatever debt I owe you," Simon said in a curious tone, "dont you think?"

"Go screw yourself into the sand."

"Mon Dieu, what a hypocrite! I thought you valued a sense of humor."

Gonji peered at him with mild curiosity. "This isnt the time for it. And yours is worse than Orozcos."

"Well, then you can just keep staring at the Turks, and I wont bother telling you."

Gonji looked at him with narrowing eyes. "What? Ive no time for riddles."

Simon c.o.c.ked a thumb over his shoulder without glancing back.

Gonji gaped and called the gloomy bands attention to it: Two humanoid forms flapped toward them out of the blazing southeastern sky. Wygylls. A mated pair, they could see, as the flying creatures swooped near. The samurai held up the emblem, and it was duly recognized at once, the wygylls lowering their short bows and nattering at them in shrill command tones, indicating the direction from which theyd come.

Gonji called out words of encouragement and pushed the fatigued survivors onward after the slowly circling, guiding creatures. The Turks gave chase but pulled up in superst.i.tious wonder to see the apparitions that careened down from the sky to strafe them with arrows. They continued following but kept their distance.

When night fell and the Dark Company took up pursuit again, the Turks abandoned the accursed business.

The wygylls either failed to understand or disregarded Gonjis warning and arced back toward the undying butchers. When they reached arbalest range, they cracked off a volley.

As the wygylls strafed the Dark Company, Buey shouted and turned their attention to the mystical vision that loomed up out of the sand ahead.

There were gasps of shock, the troop hesitating though their murderers swept on behind them. Where had it come from? How could it have appeared so abruptly?

There in the sand, an indefinite distance ahead under a canopy of countless stars, stood the most enormous fortification any of them had ever seen. Its ma.s.sive facade and seemingly endless sprawl were given perspective by the minuscule specks that must have been battlement sentries.

Gonji bellowed for them to mount up double, and they kicked the exhausted and laboring steeds onward. Before they had gained a score of yards, they heard the strident cry in the star-shot heavens-one of the wygylls had been struck by the Dark Companys fire to spiral down into the dunes. Its mate had gone wild, lacing the sky with its furious, accelerated flight paths, firing down at the a.s.sa.s.sins as it shrilled in tortured despair over its loss. The undead killers, in turn, crossed the starlight with pinpoint bolts as the temple cats scrambled for cover beneath the horses in their murky ground mist.

"Good hunting, n.o.ble creature," Gonji cried, lashing the horse he shared with Ahmed.

The fortress spread still larger in their view, as the band approached it, crying out for sanctuary and churning through the sands, and then- As unexpectedly as it had appeared, it began to shrink, to grow slender at first, its turrets and walls lengthening and compressing at once, squeezing up toward the sky.

"What evil sorcery-?"

"What have you brought us to, Gonji?"

"Just keep riding," the samurai bellowed. "Remember Castle Malaguer-"