Blood Fountain

By Robert E. Vardeman and Geo. W. Proctor

Even the demonic Faceless Ones quake at mention of master mage Lorennion's Blood Fountain, yet there lovely Lijena Farleigh is magic-bound to go. Davin Anane and his changeling companion Goran One-Eye are powerless to stop her and can only hold the demon hordes at bay as Lijena discovers the secret of . . . the Blood Fountain.

BLOOD FOUNTAIN is a tale of horrific demons, unthinkable magicks and courage for the ages.

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Cenotaph Corporation
• Release date: Mar 31, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370105762

Book preview

Prisoner of demon gods!

Lijena Farleigh dropped to her knees and bowed until her head touched the dirt. Even then, she hardly dared to move for fear of offending.

See? asked Adiah of the children. They acknowledge our superiority so easily.

His wings unfolded and slowly beat against the warm air. He rose until he hovered ten feet above Lijena.

The woman's eyes lifted to track the flight of this godlike being. She caught her breath. A halo of light shimmered about the tall, leanly muscled body, the down-feathered wings powerfully beating, the wind-tossed golden hair that rivaled her own hair in lustrous beauty, and the large golden eyes that locked with her own aquamarine ones.

Lijena subserviently pulled her gaze from the ethereal Narain and looked to the palace beyond. Never had she even dreamed of such splendor. Towers of unsurpassed delicacy rose at each corner of Mapalah, defying gravity and making a mockery of the finest efforts of human architects. Precious stones shone brilliantly everywhere she looked—the windows, the arched doorways, the very walls. And past this magnificent edifice rose the even taller trees of the Forest of Agda.

Agda, where the gods dwelled!.

Blood Fountain

Swords of Raemllyn #3

By

Robert E. Vardeman & Geo. W. Proctor

Swords of Raemllyn Series

To Demons Bound

A Yoke of Magic

Blood Fountain

Death's Acolyte

Beasts of the Mist

For Crown and Kingdom

Blade of the Conqueror

Tombs of A'bre

The Jewels of Life

Blood Fountain 1985 Robert E Vardeman & Geo. W. Proctor

Blood Fountain was originally published by

Ace Books in 1985 (ISBN: 0-441-06779-4) and reprinted by

New English Library in 1992 (ISBN: 0-450-56314-6)

This Smashwords edition published by

The Cenotaph Press © 2017

ISBN:

Witcher Cover © 2008 by Florian J. Renner

Map © 1985 by Geo. W. Proctor

If you'd like to learn more about the authors, please visit the Cenotaph Road website

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Sample chapter: Death's Acolyte

Author biographies

Blood Fountain

by

Robert E. Vardeman & Geo. W. Proctor

Chapter 1

Goran One-Eye's vision blurred; his head spun dizzily. For an instant the world about the Challing went insane. Colors swirled, pin-wheeling madly. The cobalt blue of the sky ran streaming downward to explode against the erupting greens and browns of forest and earth. Brilliant, jagged streaks of orange and yellow flashed across all as the campfire's licking tongues of flame leaped sideways to melt into the whirlwind kaleidoscope.

Noooooo! A single word of frustration came from the red-bearded giant's lips, sounding somewhere between a piteous plea and a feral growl.

The changeling wiped an island-sized palm over his good right eye. He heaved a sigh of relief when he stared about again. The world righted itself in that one blinking of his jade eye. The deep blues of evening returned to their place in the heavens. The greens once more resided in the needle-fur cloaks of the wood's evergreens. The earth-hued tans and browns were again underfoot where they belonged, and the campfire's flickering flames receded to small fiery fingers rather than wildly licking tongues.

Nyuria's scorched arse! Goran cursed the demon who tended the fires in the lowest level of Peyneeha, which men called Hell. May Roan-Jafar's soul be burnt black and crispy for treacherously drawing me from my beloved realm of Gohwohn to this ball of dung! No man, let alone a Challing, should be forced to endure the chains that bind me!

The vexing bond that railed the titan so was the human flesh in which he was ensorcelled. For Goran, known as One-Eye, was not man, but a Challing, a creature nine parts spirit for each physical. More than five years ago he had been drawn from the realm of Gohwohn into Raemllyn by the mage Roan-Jafar. The wizard died for his insidious act, gullet opened from ear to ear by Goran's own dirk, but not before he had bound the changeling to the body of a man.

While this drew his profanities, Goran's spinning blur of vision was the true source of his roiled brain. Five times this day his good eye had gone aspin, jumbling his mind in a reeling tumble of space and color.

'Tis the effects of Masur-Kell's potion. Damnable stuff, that—unpredictable! Goran lied to himself as he dressed a rabbit to be spitted above the fire.

The potion he and his fellow thief Davin Anane had secured from the Letician wizard Masur-Kell was a capricious blend of magicks, to be certain. Brewed to weaken Roan-Jafar's binding spell, it had returned a portion of Goran's magical abilities. Though likely as not those powers controlled him as often as he wielded them.

No, he admitted. There be magicks aplay, but they come not from me nor Masur-Kell's handiwork. He sensed a random weave of undirected forces ebbing and flowing in the air. Try as he had during the long tre0k that day, he could not define or locate the source of those elusive magicks.

Damn you, son of Anane, he muttered as he turned the rabbit above the flame. Were it not for your obsession with that blonde-tressed wench, I might now be basking before a roaring hearth in an inn in Garoda. Or soothing my throat with mulled wine in Parrn. Instead, I shiver here in the middle of nowhere while the Goddess Minima's winter winds cut me to the very bone!

Garoda, Parrn, Degoolah—wistful visions of Upper Raemllyn's cities floated through Goran's mind. Qatim, Jyn, Bistonia. . .

Nay, not Bistonia! Never Bistonia. Black Qar take Bistonia! Goran shook his head and spat.

Bistonia had given birth to this dreadful misadventure that brought him and Davin so far from Raemllyn's cities and the wealth and women for which he had developed almost human tastes. In Bistonia a gambling mishap had left him the prisoner of that city's emperor of thieves. In exchange for the Challing's life, Davin Anane was duped into kidnaping the hapless young beauty Lijena Farleigh.

That Lijena was subsequently sold into slavery to Masur-Kell should have been of no concern to Davin, Goran thought it wasn't to him! But Davin was enamored of the wench's beauty, and to assuage his guilt, had freed the frosty-haired woman from her chains.

Only to bind her with a yoke of magic! Goran grunted, testing the rabbit with the tip of his knife.

The magic had been contained in an innocent-looking white powder within a golden box stolen from Masur-Kell's home. Lijena had accidently inhaled the dust and was now possessed of a demon that drove her...

Goran glanced about him. The Gods of Raemllyn might know where he was camped, but he didn't! He doubted whether Davin did either. Neither Jyotian thief nor changeling had been this far north or west in Raemllyn's great wilderness.

A'bre, by the gods, that is the city we should be searching for! Goran nodded his silent approval. In the legendary city of A'bre he would be restored to his natural form, or so said the mage Masur-Kell.

However, Davin had to go chasing Lijena and the demon bound to her body and soul. Goran grumbled another curse. So they had encountered Lord Berenicis the Blackheart, former ruler of Davin's homeland of Jyotis and the thief's longstanding enemy.

Berenicis took the wench off our hands! Let us be done with this senseless chase and return to warmer climes, Davin! Goran called out to his friend, who traipsed somewhere through the wood in search of his own rabbit.

When no answer came, Goran One-Eye spat again. In truth, the Challing realized that Davin's solitary venture in the forest was not for some plump hare. It was nothing more than an excuse to scour the surrounding wilderness for any trace of the Jyotian's precious Lijena.

Not that he's likely to see hide nor hair of the skinny wench again! Goran's sole good eye scanned the woods, noting only his and Davin's mounts securely hobbled away from the clearing beneath a barren oak and a rich stand of green wintergrass. Bah! Why should I care if Davin seeks privacy to wear a fool's cap?

Goran shook his shaggy head. And of what concern were Berenicis and his search for the magic-endowed sheath of the Sword of Kwerin Bloodhawk, Raemllyn's first High King? Especially when the quest led directly to the doorstep of Lorennion, the most feared mage in Upper and Lower RaemIlyn. Only fools went looking for such trouble!

Let the Blackheart find the sheath himself. He found Kwerin's sword—if indeed the blade he showed us was the mythical weapon! Goran gave a dubious snort. What I need is a stout ax to complement the sword I now carry. An ax with good weight to it so that...

Goran's words faded. Again colors rushed at his single good eye in an insane blur. He groaned while his head spun to match the tempo of a swirling spectrum gone mad. He rubbed a fist at his jade and gold-flecked orb with no results. A sky and earth turned liquid streamed together in dizzy maelstrom.

By Raemllyn's gods! Goran roared. His head jerked from side to side in an attempt to shake off the forces that robbed his vision. What powers weave here?

Then it was gone. As quickly as he had been beset by the spinning blur, it abated. The massive Challing in man's form drew a steadying breath. It's passed; like a door that opened and closed. I can see a ...

He blinked, again, again. Something was wrong. The world was in its correct place once more, but somehow shifted as though his perspective were changed.

A twig snapped with a dry pop behind the Challing.

It's about time you returned, friend Davin. I thought mayhap you would go hungry this eve. Goran turned to greet his friend. My little hare ... Davin!

You miserable, lying, misbegotten mongrel! Davin Anane stood five strides from his fellow thief. His lips were set in a taut, white line; his eyes narrowed. Demon spawn! Prepare to die!

His right hand dropped to the hilt of a longsword slung at his waist. The blade slid easily from a well-traveled scabbard with a soft metallic hiss, then rose menacingly. Shafts of light from a sun resting just above the horizon dazzled off the steel in blood-red fingers pointing directly at Goran One-Eye's chest.

Davin, what is... Goran gasped in horror. The words were his, but not the voice. The tone, the uncharacteristic high pitch, belonged to a woman. Nyuria be damned!

The Challing's eye rolled down and went saucer wide when he stared at himself. Breasts the size of pillows pushed from his—her—chest and strained to escape shirt and fur coat. His arms! They were lost inside the coat's sleeves. He/she could feel them; no longer were they tree trunks of muscle and sinew, but flabby, fat things. And his legs! Short they were, stubby and equally as blubbery as her/his arms.

Now she understood the subtle shifting of perspective. She was no longer Goran—but Glylina, the changeling's female persona! She had changed shapes, taken on feminine form. She had been transformed from a barrel-chested giant into an overweight, middle-aged matron.

Davin, I realize it would be easy to find offense with such a body. But aren't you overreacting? Masur-Kell's potion... Glylina swallowed the remainder of her words and backstepped as Davin strode forward.

And nearly tripped over Goran's overly long breeches! Panic assailed her brain as she hiked up the waist of trousers sizes too big for even her abundantly fat hips and scurried away from that honed sword tip. Five short steps she took, until she backed into the trunk of a pine.

Still Davin advanced. Bathed in the setting sun's light, his eyes glowed a demonic red. His sword, in a two-handed grip, swung back in preparation for a killing stroke.

Glylina's right hand dropped to her plump waist and found not her own blade, but fold upon fold of a monstrously large fur jacket. With a frustrating sob of desperation, she ducked and scuttled to the side.

Davin's blade whistled through the air and bit solidly into the tree, sending fragrant pine chips flying. With a curse, the swarthy, raven-haired thief placed a foot to trunk and tugged to free the lodged sword.

You know how it is with me, sometimes I have no control over the shape I take! Glylina pleaded, trying to disentangle her hand from the coat sleeve and find the hilt of her own blade. If the Sitala, Raemllyn's Gods of Fate, had chosen this moment for her to assume a female form, why hadn't they given her the shape of an Amazon?

I curse Masur-Kell for giving you the potion that restored this power to you, Davin snarled. He wrenched his sword free and spun to follow the stumbling Challing.

Davin, listen! Glylina shouted. I can explain!

You'll not live so long. Davin spat his contempt. I warned you it would be your life you'd pay if you ever assumed Lijena's form again. I now intend to exact that price! Davin's longsword rose, ready to strike.

Davin's rage refused to be confined by words. Logic fled his brain the instant he had seen his friend's barrel-chested, red-bearded, gigantic body subtly shifting into that of the woman he had followed across half of Raemllyn. Once Goran had duped him with such a shape change and attempted to seduce him. Never again!

Davin, I... Glylina gasped, as her companion's words penetrated the panic cloaking her mind. Lijena? But I'm not wearing Lijena's form. I look like some old matron who's dined all her life on dumplings and honey pastries! Davin, there are magicks aweave here. Magicks that...

The blurred vision, the feeling that a door had opened and closed, the pieces of a dark puzzle began to shift in Glylina's mind—then went careening off in all directions as she ducked again.

Knuckles burning white from the strain of his grip, Davin swung. The sword sang through the air to sever a strand of the frosty blond hair from the changeling's head. It floated feather gently to the ground.

Feel it, Davin! Feel it! Glylina pleaded with the sudden realization that she stood no chance against Davin's blade while locked in this rotund body. "I feel it. Magicks swirl about us like a great maelstrom. You see, but your vision is false, friend Davin. I have not taken Lijena's form!"

Do not call me friend. Sweat beaded Davin's brow, running down into his eyes. He shook his head and blinked to remove the burning saline.

Glylina's soft, female shape shimmered as though a veil lifted from it. Gone were the wasp waist, the slender legs, and firm, high breasts; replacing them, a squatty woman with pendulous paps like flaccid melons and thin straw-colored hair that hung from her head in greasy strands.

Davin hefted the sword, then hesitated. In another heartbeat he witnessed the now familiar shifting of muscle and bone, and Goran One-Eye stood before him, witch-fire aflame in the Challing's single eye.

Davin, listen to me. We are near a source of great magicks. That green fire in Goran's glowing orb danced outward in a lance.

Davin went rigid! The light shafted through his wrist; sword tumbled from his grip and fell to the ground. He tried to move, but every muscle in his body refused to answer his screaming brain.

Open your mind, my friend. Goran focused the witch-fire on Davin's face, bathing his head in a soft glow. Feel the forces aplay here.

Davin blinked. He did feel something like an invisible stream flowing about him. A stream that now receded.

Magicks, Davin muttered, recognizing the weakening bonds of some unknown spell. His hands, then the rest of his body, trembled. "Goran, I wanted to kill you. I would have killed you!"

Aye, and came close to it. The witch-fire dimmed in Goran's eye. A thick hand probed his head to find a spot thinned by Davin's sword. Of course, had I been able to free my own sword, you would not have stood a chance. After all, you are but a human and I a Challing.

How? Davin Anane frowned at his friend, still uncertain what magicks had possessed him, had filled his eyes with a vision of lost Lijena. How did it happen?

Goran shrugged and pursed his lips. I've sensed it all day, but have been unable to locate the source. It's gone now.

Gone? Davin arched an eyebrow.

I feel nothing, Goran said. This last time it felt like the opening and closing of a door, as though the very fabric of this world had been rent, opening itself to a flood of undirected power. Then it sealed itself. Now, nothing. Not even the slightest tingling.

Davin shivered, aware of the stillness that covered the countryside about them. Magicks! By the gods, how he hated them. The honest feel of tempered steel was much more to his liking. That was something a man could understand.

I thought you were hunting? Goran glanced about him. Where's the rabbit you...

His words were drowned in a hideous cry—a sound that was at once the roar of a giant feline and the squawk of a bird of prey.

Goran's head jerked up, his gaze lifting to the sky. "Has madness possessed this world? Davin, it's a keedehn! By Yehseen's pike, I did see it before!"

Davin followed the thrust of Goran's pointing finger. At first, his eyes refused to focus on the writhing, shifting shape sinuously flying overhead. Then he could not escape the horrible reality of the bat-winged, twin-tailed monstrosity. Davin leaped to the side and scooped his blade from the ground.

"More than a sword will be needed to kill that, whispered Goran, his tone almost reverent. In my land of Gohwohn, they were common enough, but not since being stranded in Raemllyn have I seen one ... except that night at the Inn of the Golden Tricorn when Berenicis and his Huata cohorts made off with Lijena. But I thought I was drunk then."

What is it? asked Davin. The Upper Dragons were all slain a thousand years ago. Never have I seen this beast's like.

"I told you, a keedehn, the most ferocious fighter—killer!—in all Gohwohn." Goran sidled toward the campfire as though seeking the safety of the low flames.

Davin stared at his companion. Never had he seen fear on the Challing's face. Now there was no denying it, a fact that sent an icy floe coursing up his spine.

Davin asked. "Is this keedehnthe cause of the magicks?"

Nay! Goran's head moved from side to side, although his eyes never left the dragon. The door opening and closing! If I was drawn to this misbegotten land through a rent in the fabrics of existence separating our realms, why can't it? And when it enters Raemllyn, who knows what other magicks leak around it?

A new rent? asked Davin.

Immense powers are loose in this kingdom, said Goran. "I did not lie when I said I had no control over my last shapeshift. The change was triggered by something bigger, something that allowed the keedehn to slip into Raemllyn."

And this rent, how...

From the woods came the panicked neighs of their mounts. Goran's head jerked around. The two horses no longer buried their noses in the lush wintergrass, but pranced awkwardly about, their eyes wide with fear. Had it not been for the stout leather throngs hobbling their forelegs, they would have bolted and been lost in the forest by now.

Qar take you! Enough questions. Goran's gaze darted to Davin. There'll be time for answers later. Now, get back into the trees before that damnable creature sees us!

Davin nodded and took a step toward his friend, then froze as that grotesque cry once more shattered the evening's silence. His head twisted about. Goran's warning came too late. The winged dragon, escaped from another plane of existence, plummeted downward, its great recurved claws spread wide to snare its prey!

Chapter 2

"They are