The Shadow Kingdom

1. A King Rides In

The blare of the trumpets got louder, like a deep golden wave surging, like the soft crashing of the evening tides against the silver beaches of Valusia. The crowd cheered, women tossed roses from the rooftops as the rhythmic sound of silver hooves grew clearer and the first of the impressive procession came into view along the wide white street that curved around the golden-spired Tower of Splendor.

First came the trumpeters, slim young guys dressed in red, riding with a flourish of long, sleek golden trumpets; next were the archers, tall men from the mountains; and behind them were the heavily armed foot soldiers, their wide shields clashing together in unison, their long spears swaying perfectly in time with their steps. Behind them came the mightiest soldiers in the world, the Red Slayers, horsemen beautifully mounted, dressed in red from helmet to spur. They sat proudly on their horses, looking neither right nor left but fully aware of the cheers around them. They resembled bronze statues, and there was never a falter in the forest of spears that stood above them.

Behind those proud and intimidating ranks marched the diverse groups of mercenaries, fierce and rugged warriors from Mu, Kaa-u, and the eastern hills, as well as the western islands. They wielded spears and heavy swords, and a close-knit group that walked somewhat separately were the archers from Lemuria. Following them were the light infantry of the nation, with more trumpeters bringing up the rear.

A striking sight, and one that stirred a fierce thrill in Kull, king of Valusia. Kull wasn’t on the Topaz Throne at the front of the grand Tower of Splendor; instead, he was in the saddle, riding a powerful stallion, a true warrior king. His strong arm lifted in response to the salutes as the troops passed by. His intense gaze briefly passed over the flamboyant trumpeters and lingered longer on the soldiers behind them; his eyes blazed with fierce intensity as the Red Slayers came to a stop in front of him with a clash of weapons and prancing horses, offering him the crown salute. They narrowed slightly as the mercenaries walked past. The mercenaries didn’t salute anyone. They marched with their shoulders back, looking boldly and directly at Kull, showing a tinge of respect; their fierce eyes were unblinking, savage eyes staring out from beneath wild manes and heavy brows.

And Kull stared back just as intensely. He respected courageous men, and there were none braver in the world, not even among the wild tribesmen who had now turned their backs on him. But Kull was too much of a savage to have any real affection for them. There were too many grudges. Many were long-time enemies of Kull's nation, and even though the name Kull had become a cursed term among the mountains and valleys of his people, and even though Kull had tried to forget them, the old hatreds and ancient passions still lingered. Because Kull was not a Valusian; he was an Atlantean.

The armies disappeared from view around the dazzling shoulders of the Tower of Splendor, and Kull turned his stallion around and headed toward the palace at a relaxed pace, talking about the review with the commanders riding with him. He didn’t say much, but he communicated a lot.

"The army is like a sword," said Kull, "and it must not be allowed to rust." So they rode down the street, and Kull paid no attention to any of the whispers that reached his ears from the crowds that still filled the streets.

"That's Kull, you see! Valka! What a king! And what a man! Look at his arms! His shoulders!"

And a hint of darker whispers: "Kull! Ha, cursed usurper from the pagan islands"—"Yeah, it's a shame for Valusia that a barbarian is on the Throne of Kings...."

Little did Kull notice. He had taken the crumbling throne of ancient Valusia with a strong grip, and he held onto it even more tightly, just one man against an entire nation.

After the council chamber, the grand palace where Kull responded to the formal and flattering remarks from the lords and ladies, with a well-concealed, dark amusement at such trivialities; then the lords and ladies made their formal exit and Kull leaned back on the ermine throne, pondering state affairs until an attendant asked the great king for permission to speak and announced an envoy from the Pictish embassy.

Kull pulled his mind away from the complicated politics of Valusia, where it had been lost, and looked at the Pict with little approval. The man met the king's gaze without flinching. He was a lean-hipped, broad-chested warrior of average height, dark-skinned like all his people, and very solidly built. From his strong, expressionless face, formidable and unreadable eyes stared back.

"The head of the Councilors, Ka-nu of the tribe, the king of Pictdom’s right-hand man, sends his regards and says: 'There’s a seat at the feast of the rising moon for Kull, king of kings, lord of lords, emperor of Valusia.'"

"Good," replied Kull. "Tell Ka-nu the Ancient, ambassador of the western Isles, that the king of Valusia will drink wine with him when the moon rises over the hills of Zalgara."

Still the Pict hung around. "I have a message for the king, not"—with a dismissive wave of his hand—"for these servants."

Kull waved off the attendants with a word, keeping a careful eye on the Pict.

The man moved closer and lowered his voice: "Come alone to the feast tonight, my lord. That was my chief's instruction."

The king's eyes narrowed, shining like cold gray steel.

"By yourself?"

"Yes."

They silently stared at each other, their shared tribal hatred simmering under their polite facade. Their words were filled with refined language, the standard phrases of a sophisticated culture that wasn’t theirs, but their eyes revealed the deep-rooted customs of raw savagery. Kull might be the king of Valusia and the Pict might be a representative at her courts, but in that throne hall of kings, two tribesmen glared at each other, fierce and cautious, as the echoes of ancient battles and long-standing rivalries murmured between them.

To the king went the advantage, and he enjoyed it fully. Resting his jaw on his hand, he watched the Pict, who stood like a bronze statue, head thrown back, eyes unwavering.

Across Kull's lips crossed a smile that was more of a sneer.

"And so I’m supposed to come—alone?" Civilization had taught him to speak indirectly, and the Pict's dark eyes sparkled, though he didn’t respond. "How can I be sure that you come from Ka-nu?"

"I've said what I needed to," was the gloomy reply.

"And when did a Pict tell the truth?" sneered Kull, fully aware that the Picts never lied, but using this to anger the man.

"I see your plan, King," the Pict replied calmly. "You want to make me angry. By Valka, you don't need to do anything more! I'm already angry enough. And I challenge you to fight me one-on-one, with a spear, sword, or dagger, whether you're on horseback or on foot. Are you a king or just a man?"

Kull's eyes sparkled with the reluctant respect a warrior has to show a brave enemy, but he didn't miss the opportunity to further irritate his opponent.

"A king doesn't take on the challenge of an unknown savage," he mocked, "nor does the emperor of Valusia violate the Truce of Ambassadors. You're free to leave. Tell Ka-nu I will come alone."

The Pict's eyes glinted dangerously. He was trembling with a deep-seated urge to kill; then, turning his back directly on the king of Valusia, he walked across the Hall of Society and disappeared through the large door.

Again, Kull leaned back on the ermine throne and thought.

So the leader of the Council of Picts wanted him to come alone? But why? Betrayal? Kull grimly touched the hilt of his massive sword. But that seemed unlikely. The Picts valued their alliance with Valusia too much to jeopardize it over any feudal issue. Kull might be a warrior from Atlantis and a hereditary enemy of all Picts, but he was also the king of Valusia, the strongest ally of the Men of the West.

Kull thought a lot about the strange situation that turned him into an ally of old enemies and an enemy of old friends. He stood up and paced restlessly across the hall, moving with the swift, silent steps of a lion. He had shattered bonds of friendship, tribe, and tradition to fulfill his ambition. And, by Valka, the god of the sea and land, he had achieved that ambition! He was king of Valusia—a fading, degenerate Valusia, a Valusia mostly lost in dreams of past glory, but still a powerful land and the greatest of the Seven Empires. Valusia—Land of Dreams, as the tribesmen called it, and sometimes it felt to Kull like he was living in a dream. The intrigues of the court and palace, the army and the people were all strange to him. It resembled a masquerade, where men and women concealed their true thoughts behind a smooth mask. Yet seizing the throne had been easy—a bold grab at opportunity, the swift clash of swords, the killing of a tyrant whom people were tired of, and some crafty plotting with ambitious statesmen who had fallen out of favor at court—and Kull, a wandering adventurer, an Atlantean exile, had risen to the dizzy heights of his dreams: he was the lord of Valusia, king of kings. But now it seemed that taking the throne was much easier than holding onto it. The sight of the Pict had reminded him of his youth, the free, wild savagery of his childhood. And now a strange feeling of dim unrest, of unreality, washed over him as it had been doing lately. Who was he, a straightforward man of the seas and mountains, to rule over a race that was strangely and terribly wise with the wisdom of ancient times? An ancient race—

"I am Kull!" he said, tossing his head back like a lion throwing back its mane. "I am Kull!"

His sharp gaze scanned the old hall. His confidence returned.... And in a shadowy corner of the hall, a tapestry stirred—just a little.

2. Thus Spoke the Quiet Halls of Valusia

The moon hadn't risen yet, and the garden was lit by torches glowing in silver holders when Kull took his seat on the throne in front of the table of Ka-nu, ambassador of the western islands. To his right sat the old Pict, looking nothing like an envoy from that fierce tribe. Ka-nu was ancient and wise in politics, having spent a lifetime in the game. There was no deep-seated hatred in the eyes that regarded Kull thoughtfully; no tribal traditions clouded his judgment. Long connections with the politicians of civilized nations had cleared away such biases. It was never a matter of who and what is this man? that occupied Ka-nu’s thoughts, but rather: can I use this man, and how? He only used tribal prejudices to further his own plans.

And Kull watched Ka-nu, responding to his conversation briefly, wondering if civilization would turn him into someone like the Pict. Ka-nu was soft and plump. Many years had passed since Ka-nu had last wielded a sword. True, he was old, but Kull had seen men older than him leading in battle. The Picts were a long-lived race. A beautiful girl stood by Ka-nu's side, refilling his goblet, and she had her hands full. Meanwhile, Ka-nu kept up a steady stream of jokes and comments, and Kull, secretly looking down on his chatter, still caught every bit of his sharp wit.

At the banquet were Pictish chiefs and statesmen, the latter friendly and relaxed in their demeanor, while the warriors were polite but clearly restricted by their tribal loyalties. Still, Kull, feeling a bit envious, noticed how free and easy everything was compared to similar events at the Valusian court. Such freedom was common in the rough camps of Atlantis—Kull shrugged his shoulders. After all, Ka-nu, who seemed to have completely forgotten he was a Pict when it came to age-old customs and biases, was probably right, and Kull would do well to adopt a Valusian mindset as well as a Valusian name.

At last, when the moon was at its highest point, Ka-nu, having eaten and drunk as much as any three men there, leaned back on his cushion with a satisfied sigh and said, "Now, please leave, friends, because the king and I need to talk about things that don’t involve kids. Yes, you too, my dear; but first, let me kiss those beautiful lips—there we go; now dance away, my flower."

Ka-nu's eyes sparkled above his white beard as he looked at Kull, who sat straight, serious, and unyielding.

"You’re thinking, Kull," the old statesman said suddenly, "that Ka-nu is a useless old loser, good for nothing but drinking wine and flirting with women!"

In fact, this comment aligned so closely with his true thoughts and was expressed so clearly that Kull was a bit taken aback, even though he showed no outward reaction.

Ka-nu chuckled and his belly shook with laughter. "Wine is red and women are gentle," he said with a smile. "But—ha! ha!—don't think old Ka-nu lets either get in the way of business."

Again he laughed, and Kull moved restlessly. This felt a lot like being mocked, and the king's sparkling eyes started to shine with a cat-like intensity.

Ka-nu reached for the wine pitcher, filled his cup, and looked at Kull with a questioning expression, who shook his head in irritation.

"Yeah," said Ka-nu calmly, "it takes experience to handle strong drinks. I'm getting older, Kull, so why should you young guys deny me the pleasures that us older folks need to enjoy? Ah, I feel old and faded, lonely and downcast."

But his appearance and expressions didn't match his words at all. His rosy face practically glowed, and his eyes sparkled, making his white beard seem out of place. In fact, he looked quite otherworldly, thought Kull, who felt a strange sense of resentment. The old rascal had lost all the basic virtues of his own people and Kull's people, yet he seemed happier in his old age than ever.

"Hear me, Kull," said Ka-nu, raising a warning finger, "it's a risky thing to praise a young man, but I have to share my honest thoughts to earn your trust."

"If you think you can get it through flattery——"

"Tush. Who talked about flattery? I flatter just to throw you off."

There was an intense sparkle in Ka-nu's eyes, a cold glimmer that didn't match his relaxed smile. He understood men, and he realized that to achieve his goal he had to strike directly with this fierce barbarian, who, like a wolf detecting a trap, would easily pick up on any dishonesty in the fabric of his words.

"You have power, Kull," he said, choosing his words more carefully than he did in the council chambers of the nation, "to make yourself the mightiest of all kings and restore some of Valusia's lost glory. So, I don't really care much for Valusia—though the women and wine are great—except for the fact that the stronger Valusia is, the stronger the Pict nation will be. Furthermore, with an Atlantean on the throne, eventually Atlantis will become united——"

Kull laughed bitterly. Ka-nu had struck a nerve.

"Atlantis cursed my name when I went to search for fame and fortune among the cities of the world. We—they—have been ancient enemies of the Seven Empires, even greater enemies of the Empires' allies, as you should know."

Ka-nu tugged at his beard and smiled mysteriously.

"Nah, it’s fine. But I know what I’m talking about. Then war will end, since there’s no benefit to it; I see a world of peace and prosperity—people loving each other—the highest good. You can achieve all of this—if you stay alive!"

"Ha!" Kull's lean hand gripped his hilt, and he sprang to his feet with a sudden burst of speed that made Ka-nu, who admired men like some admire thoroughbred horses, feel a rush of excitement. Valka, what a fighter! Nerves and muscles made of steel and fire, perfectly coordinated with the instinct to fight that defines a true warrior.

But none of Ka-nu's excitement came through in his somewhat sarcastic tone.

"Tush. Sit down. Look around you. The gardens are empty, the seats vacant, except for us. You’re not afraid of me?"

Kull leaned back, looking around cautiously.

"There speaks the savage," Ka-nu thought. "Do you really believe that if I were plotting betrayal, I would do it here where everyone would suspect me? Nonsense. You young tribesmen have a lot to learn. My leaders were uneasy because you were born in the hills of Atlantis, and you secretly look down on me because I'm a Pict. Nonsense. I see you as Kull, king of Valusia, not as Kull, the reckless Atlantean, leader of the raiders who attacked the western isles. So you should see me, not as a Pict, but as a global citizen, a figure of the world. Now listen to that figure! If you were killed tomorrow, who would be king?"

"Kaanuub, Baron of Blaal."

"Even so, I have a problem with Kaanuub for many reasons, but mostly because he’s just a figurehead."

"How so? He was my biggest rival, but I didn't realize he supported anything other than his own interests."

"The night can listen," Ka-nu replied vaguely. "There are layers of worlds. But you can trust me and you can trust Brule, the Spear-slayer. Look!" He pulled from his robes a gold bracelet shaped like a winged dragon coiled three times, with three ruby horns on its head.

"Take a good look at it. Brule will have it on his arm when he comes to see you tomorrow night, so you'll recognize him. Trust Brule as you trust yourself, and do what he says. And to prove your trust, look!"

And with the speed of a striking hawk, the old man grabbed something from his robes, something that cast a strange green light over them, and he put it back in an instant.

"The stolen gem!" Kull exclaimed, pulling back. "The green jewel from the Temple of the Serpent! Valka! It's you! Why are you showing it to me?"

"To save your life. To show I trust you. If I break your trust, treat me the same way. You have my life in your hands. I couldn't be untrue to you even if I wanted to, because a single word from you would be my end."

Yet for all his words, the old scoundrel smiled happily and looked really pleased with himself.

"But why do you let me have this power over you?" asked Kull, getting more confused by the second.

"As I mentioned. Now, you see that I don't intend to deceive you, and tomorrow night when Brule comes to you, you'll follow his advice without worrying about betrayal. That's all. An escort is waiting outside to ride to the palace with you, my lord."

Kull stood up. "But you haven't told me anything."

"Tush. How impatient are young people!" Ka-nu looked more like a playful elf than ever. "You go ahead and dream of thrones and power and kingdoms, while I dream of wine and beautiful women and roses. And good luck to you, King Kull."

As he walked out of the garden, Kull looked back to see Ka-nu still lounging comfortably in his chair, a cheerful old man, smiling at everyone with friendly warmth.

A mounted warrior waited for the king just outside the garden, and Kull was a bit surprised to see it was the same one who had delivered Ka-nu's invitation. No words were exchanged as Kull got into the saddle, nor as they rode through the empty streets.

The bright colors and lively energy of the day had given way to the eerie stillness of night. The city's age was more obvious than ever under the bent, silver moon. The massive columns of the mansions and palaces reached up into the stars. The wide stairways, quiet and empty, appeared to rise endlessly until they disappeared into the dark shadows above. Stairs to the stars, Kull thought, his creative mind sparked by the strange magnificence of the scene.

Clang! clang! clang! echoed the silver hooves on the wide, moonlit streets, but there was no other sound. The city's age, its incredible history, was nearly overwhelming for the king; it felt as though the massive silent buildings were laughing at him, silently, with unimaginable mockery. And what secrets did they keep?

"You are young," said the palaces, the temples, and the shrines, "but we are old. The world was vibrant with youth when we were built. You and your people will come and go, but we are unbeatable, unbreakable. We loomed over a strange world long before Atlantis and Lemuria emerged from the ocean; we will still stand strong when the green waters whisper for countless depths above the peaks of Lemuria and the hills of Atlantis, and when the islands of the Western Men become the mountains of an unfamiliar land.

"How many kings have we seen ride down these streets before Kull of Atlantis was even a dream in Ka's mind, the bird of Creation? Keep riding, Kull of Atlantis; greater ones will come after you; greater ones have come before you. They are dust; they are forgotten; we stand; we know; we exist. Keep riding, Kull of Atlantis; Kull the king, Kull the fool!"

And it seemed to Kull that the clashing hooves picked up the silent rhythm, pounding into the night with hollow, echoing mockery:

"Kull—the—king! Kull—the—idiot!"

Glow, moon; you light the path of a king! Shine, stars; you are the torches in the wake of an emperor! And clatter, silver-shod hooves; you announce that Kull is riding through Valusia.

Hey! Wake up, Valusia! It's Kull that's riding in, Kull the king!

"We have known many kings," said the quiet halls of Valusia.

And so, feeling brooding, Kull arrived at the palace, where his bodyguard, the Red Slayers, took the reins of the great stallion and escorted Kull to his quarters. There, the Pict, still silent and moody, jerked his horse around with a fierce pull of the reins and vanished into the darkness like a ghost; Kull's vivid imagination pictured him racing through the quiet streets like a creature from the Elder World.

Kull couldn’t sleep that night; dawn was approaching and he spent the rest of the hours pacing the throne room, reflecting on what had happened. Ka-nu hadn’t revealed anything, yet he had completely surrendered to Kull. What had he meant when he said the baron of Blaal was just a figurehead? And who was this Brule that was supposed to come to him at night, wearing the magical armlet of the dragon? And why? Most importantly, why had Ka-nu shown him the green gem of terror, which had been stolen long ago from the temple of the Serpent? If the terrible guardians of that temple learned of it, the world would be thrown into chaos, and not even Ka-nu’s fierce tribesmen might be able to protect him from their wrath. But Kull realized Ka-nu felt safe, since the politician was too clever to take risks without some sort of gain. But was it to catch the king off guard and set the stage for betrayal? Would Ka-nu really allow him to live now? Kull shook his head.

3. Those Who Walk the Night

The moon hadn't risen yet when Kull, hand on the sword hilt, approached a window. The windows overlooked the vast inner gardens of the royal palace, and the night breezes, filled with the scents of spice trees, fluttered the delicate curtains. The king gazed outside. The paths and groves were empty; the neatly trimmed trees loomed like dark shapes; nearby fountains cast their soft silver light in the starlight while distant fountains bubbled quietly. There were no guards in those gardens, as the outer walls were so heavily patrolled that it seemed impossible for any intruder to get in.

Vines twisted up the palace walls, and while Kull thought about how easily they could be climbed, a shadow broke away from the darkness below the window and a bare, brown arm reached up over the sill. Kull's huge sword slid halfway out of its sheath; then the king stopped. The dragon armlet that Ka-nu had shown him the night before sparkled on the muscular forearm.

The person with the arm climbed up over the windowsill and into the room with the smooth, quick movement of a leaping leopard.

"You’re Brule?" Kull asked, pausing in surprise mixed with annoyance and suspicion; because the man was the same one Kull had mocked in the Society hall; the very same who had led him away from the Pictish embassy.

"I am Brule, the Spear-slayer," the Pict replied cautiously; then, quickly, studying Kull's face, he said, barely above a whisper:

"What’s your name?"

Kull jumped. "Ha! What do you mean?"

"Don't you know?"

"Nah, those words are strange; they’re from a language I’ve never heard—and yet, by Valka!—somewhere—I have heard——"

"Yeah," was the Pict's only response. His gaze scanned the room, the study room of the palace. Aside from a few tables, a couple of divans, and large shelves filled with parchment books, the room was empty compared to the opulence of the rest of the palace.

"Tell me, king, who's guarding the door?"

"Eighteen of the Red Slayers. But how did you end up sneaking through the gardens at night and climbing the palace walls?"

Brule sneered. "The guards of Valusia are clueless. I could take their girls right in front of them. I slipped through them, and they didn’t see or hear me. And the walls—I could climb them without any help from vines. I’ve hunted tigers on the misty beaches when the biting east winds blew the fog in from the sea, and I’ve scaled the heights of the western coastal mountains. But come—no, touch this armlet."

He stretched out his arm and, as Kull did so in amazement, let out a noticeable sigh of relief.

"So, take off those royal robes; because tonight there are deeds ahead of you that no Atlantean has ever imagined."

Brule was wearing nothing but a thin loincloth with a short, curved sword tucked in.

"And who are you to give me orders?" Kull asked, a bit annoyed.

"Did Ka-nu not ask you to follow me in everything?" the Pict asked irritably, his eyes flashing for a moment. "I don't have any fondness for you, lord, but for now I’ve set aside thoughts of feuds. You should do the same. But let’s go."

Walking silently, he guided the way across the room to the door. A slide in the door provided a view of the outer corridor, which couldn't be seen from outside, and the Pict urged Kull to look.

"What do you see?"

"Just the eighteen guardsmen."

The Pict nodded and gestured for Kull to follow him across the room. Brule stopped at a panel in the opposite wall and fumbled with it for a moment. Then, with a quick motion, he stepped back and drew his sword. Kull gasped as the panel swung open silently, revealing a dimly lit passageway.

"A secret passage!" Kull exclaimed softly. "And I had no idea about it! By Valka, someone is going to pay for this!"

"Quiet!" hissed the Pict.

Brule stood like a bronze statue, straining for the slightest sound; something about his stance made Kull's hair stand on end, not out of fear but from an eerie anticipation. Then, gesturing, Brule stepped through the secret doorway that was open behind them. The passage was empty, but not covered in dust as would be expected from an unused secret corridor. A vague, gray light filtered through from somewhere, though the source wasn’t clear. Every few feet, Kull noticed doors that were invisible from the outside, but obvious from within.

"The palace is like a honeycomb," he mumbled.

"Yes. Day and night, many eyes are watching you, king."

The king was impressed by Brule's demeanor. The Pict moved forward slowly, cautiously, half crouching, with his blade held low and pointed ahead. When he spoke, it was in a whisper, and he constantly glanced from side to side.

The hallway took a sharp turn, and Brule cautiously peered around the corner.

"Look!" he whispered. "But remember! Not a word! Not a sound—on your life!"

Kull cautiously looked past him. The hallway shifted just around the corner to a set of stairs. Then Kull pulled back. At the bottom of those steps lay the eighteen Red Slayers who were on duty that night to guard the king's study. Brule's grip on his strong arm and Brule's urgent whisper in his ear were the only things stopping Kull from rushing down those stairs.

"Be quiet, Kull! Be quiet, in Valka's name!" the Pict whispered. "These hallways are empty now, but I took a big risk in showing you this so that you would believe what I had to say. Now let's go back to the study." He turned and walked back, with Kull following, his mind a whirlpool of confusion.

"This is betrayal," muttered the king, his steel-gray eyes burning, "disgusting and quick! Just a few minutes have gone by since those men were on watch."

Again in the study, Brule carefully closed the secret panel and signaled for Kull to look through the slit of the outer door again. Kull gasped loudly. For outside stood the eighteen guardsmen!

"This is magic!" he whispered, halfway pulling out his sword. "Do dead men protect the king?"

"Yeah!" came Brule's barely audible reply; there was a strange expression in the Pict's sparkling eyes. They locked eyes for a moment, Kull's brow furrowing in a confused frown as he tried to understand the Pict's unreadable face. Then Brule's lips, hardly moving, formed the words:

"The speaking snake!"

"Shh!" whispered Kull, putting his hand over Brule's mouth. "It's fatal to speak! That name is cursed!"

The Pict's fearless eyes looked at him without blinking.

"Take another look, King Kull. Maybe the guard has changed."

"Nah, those are the same guys. In Valka's name, this is witchcraft—this is crazy! I saw with my own eyes the bodies of those men, not even eight minutes ago. Yet here they are."

Brule stepped back from the door, with Kull following him without thinking.

"Kull, what do you know about the traditions of the people you govern?"

"Much—and yet, little. Valusia is so ancient——"

"Aye," Brule's eyes shone oddly, "we are just barbarians—like infants compared to the Seven Empires. Even they don’t really know how old they are. Neither human memory nor the records of historians go back far enough to tell us when the first people emerged from the sea and built cities on the shore. But Kull, people were not always ruled by people!"

The king was taken aback. Their eyes locked.

"Aye, there is a legend of my people——"

"And mine!" interjected Brule. "That was way before we from the isles teamed up with Valusia. Yeah, back in the reign of Lion-fang, the seventh war chief of the Picts, so many years ago that no one remembers the exact number. We crossed the sea from the sunset isles, hugging the coasts of Atlantis, and crashing onto the beaches of Valusia with fire and sword. Yeah, the long white beaches echoed with the clash of spears, and the night was bright as day from the flames of the burning castles. And the king, the king of Valusia, who died on the blood-soaked sands that gloomy day——" His voice faded; the two stared at each other, neither saying a word; then each nodded.

"Valusia is ancient!" whispered Kull. "The hills of Atlantis and Mu were islands in the ocean when Valusia was young."

The night breeze softly flowed through the open window. It wasn’t the fresh, clear sea air that Brule and Kull were used to and loved in their homeland, but a breath that felt like a whisper from the past, heavy with musk and the smells of forgotten things, carrying secrets that were ancient when the world was young.

The tapestries fluttered, and suddenly Kull felt like a vulnerable child in front of the mysterious wisdom of the past. Once again, a feeling of unreality washed over him. In the depths of his soul, dark, enormous shadows crept in, whispering terrifying truths. He sensed that Brule was grappling with similar feelings. The Pict's eyes were locked onto his face with fierce intensity. Their gazes met. Kull felt a warm sense of camaraderie with this member of an enemy tribe. Like rival leopards cornered by hunters, these two warriors united against the inhuman forces of ancient times.

Brule once again took the lead back to the secret door. They slipped inside quietly and moved down the dim corridor, going in the opposite direction from where they had come before. After some time, the Pict paused and moved close to one of the secret doors, signaling Kull to look with him through the hidden slot.

"This opens onto a rarely used stair that leads to a hallway next to the study door."

They looked, and soon, quietly coming up the stairs, appeared a silent figure.

"Hey! Chief councilor!" Kull shouted. "At night with your dagger out! What's going on, Brule?"

"Murder! And the worst betrayal!" hissed Brule. "No"—as Kull was about to throw the door open and charge out—"we're doomed if you confront him here, because more are hiding at the bottom of those stairs. Let’s go!"

Half running, they rushed back down the hallway. Brule led the way through the secret door, closing it carefully behind them, then across the room to an entrance into a seldom-used space. There, he pushed aside some tapestries in a dim corner and, pulling Kull along, stepped behind them. Minutes dragged on. Kull could hear the wind in the other room rustling the curtains, and it sounded to him like whispers of ghosts. Then, through the door, quietly came Tu, the king’s chief councilor. He had apparently come through the study, found it empty, and was now looking for his target where he was most likely to be.

He approached with his dagger held high, moving quietly. For a moment, he stopped, looking around the seemingly empty room, which was faintly lit by a single candle. Then he stepped forward carefully, seemingly puzzled by the king's absence. He stood in front of the hiding spot—and—

"Slay!" hissed the Pict.

Kull made a single powerful leap into the room. Tu turned, but the blinding, feline speed of the attack left him no chance to defend himself or fight back. The sword sparkled in the dim light and clashed against bone as Tu fell backward, Kull's sword protruding from between his shoulders.

Kull leaned over him, teeth showing in a menacing snarl, thick brows furrowed above eyes that seemed like the gray ice of a cold sea. Then he let go of the hilt and pulled back, shaken, dizzy, feeling death’s grip at his spine.

For as he watched, Tu's face grew oddly dim and unreal; the features blended together in a way that seemed impossible. Then, like a disappearing mask of fog, the face suddenly vanished and in its place gaped and leered a monstrous serpent's head!

"Valka!" Kull gasped, sweat forming on his forehead, and again: "Valka!"

Brule leaned forward, his face expressionless. Still, his shining eyes reflected some of Kull's fear.

"Take back your sword, my king," he said. "There are still things to accomplish."

Hesitantly, Kull placed his hand on the hilt. His skin crawled as he stepped onto the horror that lay at their feet, and when a sudden jerk caused the terrifying mouth to open wide, he recoiled, weak with nausea. Angered at himself, he drew his sword and looked more closely at the nameless creature that had once been known as Tu, chief councilor. Aside from the reptilian head, the creature was a perfect likeness of a man.

"A man with a snake's head!" Kull murmured. "So, this is a priest of the serpent god?"

"Aye. Tu sleeps unaware. These fiends can take any shape they want. They can, through a magic charm or something similar, cast a spell around their faces, like an actor putting on a mask, so they look like anyone they choose."

"Then the old legends were true," the king thought to himself; "the dark old stories that few dare even whisper about, for fear of being called blasphemers, are not just fantasies. By Valka, I had believed—I had suspected—but it seems beyond what could actually happen. Ha! The guards outside the door——"

"They're also snake-men. Wait! What are you planning to do?"

"Kill them!" Kull said through gritted teeth.

"Strike at the head if you must," said Brule. "Eighteen are waiting outside the door and maybe twenty more in the hallways. Listen, king, Ka-nu discovered this plan. His spies have infiltrated the inner sanctums of the snake priests and brought back news of a scheme. Long ago, he found out about the secret passageways in the palace, and at his request, I studied the map and came here at night to help you, so you wouldn’t meet the same fate as other kings of Valusia. I came alone because sending more people would raise suspicions. Many couldn’t sneak into the palace like I did. You’ve seen some of the foul conspiracy at work. Snake-men guard your door, and that one, like Tu, can move anywhere else in the palace; in the morning, if the priests fail, the real guards will be back in their posts, unaware and unremembering; there to take the blame if the priests succeed. But stay here while I take care of this filth."

So saying, the Pict shouldered the terrifying thing and disappeared with it through another hidden panel. Kull stood alone, his mind racing. Neophytes of the mighty serpent, how many were hiding among his cities? How could he distinguish the false from the true? Yes, how many of his trusted advisors, his generals, were actually men? Who could he be certain of—who?

The hidden panel creaked open, and Brule stepped inside.

"You were fast."

"Aye!" The warrior stepped forward, looking at the floor. "There’s blood on the rug. See?"

Kull leaned forward; out of the corner of his eye, he saw a blur of movement and a flash of metal. Like a released bow, he straightened up quickly, thrusting upward. The warrior slumped onto the sword, his own weapon clattering to the floor. Even in that moment, Kull darkly acknowledged that it was fitting for the traitor to die with the upward thrust that his people often used. Then, as Brule slipped off the sword and collapsed motionless on the floor, his face began to merge and fade, and as Kull caught his breath, his hair standing on end, the human features disappeared, revealing the gaping jaws of a huge snake, its terrible beady eyes venomous even in death.

"He was a snake priest this whole time!" gasped the king. "Valka! What a clever plan to catch me off guard! Ka-nu over there, is he even human? Was it Ka-nu I spoke with in the gardens? Almighty Valka!" As a terrible realization struck him, he thought, "Are the people of Valusia human or are they all serpents?"

Undecided, he stood there, idly noticing that the thing called Brule no longer wore the dragon armlet. A noise made him turn around.

Brule was coming through the hidden door.

"Stop!" The dragon armlet on the raised arm that halted the king's sword shone brightly. "Valka!" The Pict came to an immediate stop. Then a sinister smile spread across his face.

"By the gods of the seas! These demons are more cunning than we can imagine. It must be that one was hiding in the hallways, and seeing me carry the body of the other, took on my appearance. So, I have another to deal with."

"Stop!" there was a deadly threat in Kull's voice; "I have witnessed two men transform into snakes right in front of me. How can I be sure you are really human?"

Brule laughed. "For two reasons, King Kull. No snake-man wears this"—he pointed to the dragon armlet—"nor can anyone say these words," and again Kull heard the strange phrase: "Ka nama kaa lajerama."

"Ka nama kaa lajerama," Kull repeated automatically. "Now where, in Valka's name, have I heard that? I haven’t! And yet—and yet——"

"Yeah, you remember, Kull," said Brule. "Those words linger in the shadowy corridors of memory; even though you never heard them in this life, they were etched so deeply into the eternal soul that they will always resonate in your memory, no matter how many lifetimes you live. That phrase has been passed down through the dark and bloody ages, ever since, countless centuries ago, those words were rallying cries for the humans who fought against the terrifying beings of the Elder Universe. Only a true man can say them, someone whose jaw and mouth are shaped unlike any other creature. Their meaning may have been forgotten, but the words themselves remain."

"True," Kull said. "I remember the legends—Valka!" He suddenly stopped, staring, as if a mystical door had swung open. In an instant, he felt vast, unreachable depths opening in his mind, and for a moment, it was as if he was looking back through the ages that separated life from life; seeing through hazy, ghostly mists, dim figures replaying lost centuries—men battling horrifying monsters, conquering a world full of dread. Against a gray, constantly shifting backdrop moved strange nightmare figures, fantasies born from madness and fear; and man, the joke of the gods, the blind, unwise seeker moving from dust to dust, following the bloody path of his fate, unaware of why, beastlike, stumbling, like a great murderous child, yet sensing somewhere a spark of divine fire.... Kull wiped his hand across his forehead, shaken; these sudden flashes into the depths of memory always took him by surprise.

"They're gone," Brule said, as if searching his hidden thoughts; "the bird-women, the harpies, the bat-men, the flying fiends, the wolf-people, the demons, the goblins—all except for this being lying at our feet, and a few of the wolf-men. The war was long and brutal, lasting through bloody centuries since the first men, emerging from the depths of primal origins, turned against those who once ruled the world. Eventually, mankind triumphed, so long ago that all we have now are faint legends passed down through the ages. The snake-people were the last to fall, yet mankind eventually overcame them too, driving them into the wastelands to breed with actual snakes, until one day, say the sages, their horrid lineage will completely disappear. But the creatures returned in clever disguises as men became weak and corrupt, forgetting the ancient conflicts. Ah, that was a dark and hidden war! Among the people of the Younger Earth lurked the terrifying monsters from the Elder Planet, protected by their dreadful knowledge and mystic arts, taking on all sorts of forms and committing acts of horror in secret. No one knew who was a true man and who was an impostor. No one could trust anyone. Yet, using their own cunning, they created ways to distinguish the false from the genuine. Men adopted the image of the flying dragon, the winged dinosaur—an ancient monster that was the greatest enemy of the serpent—as a symbol. And men used the words I shared with you as a sign and emblem, because, as I said, only a true man can utter them. Thus, humanity prevailed. Yet, the fiends returned after years of amnesia had passed—because man is still an ape in that he forgets what is no longer in his line of sight. They came as priests; and because men, in their luxury and power, had lost faith in the old religions, the snake-men, masquerading as teachers of a new and truer belief, constructed a terrifying religion around the worship of the serpent god. Their influence is such that it is now a death sentence to speak of the ancient legends of the snake-people, and people once again bow to the serpent god in this new form; and foolishly, the vast majority of men see no link between this power and the force that humanity overthrew ages ago. As priests, the snake-men are satisfied to rule—and yet——" He paused.

"Go on." Kull felt an inexplicable tingling at the base of his neck.

"Kings have ruled as real men in Valusia," the Pict whispered, "and yet, those who fell in battle died like snakes—just like the one who fell under the spear of Lion-fang on the red beaches when we from the isles attacked the Seven Empires. How can this be, Lord Kull? These kings were born of women and lived as men! The true kings died in secret—just as you would have tonight—and priests of the Serpent took their place, with no one the wiser."

Kull cursed under his breath. "Yeah, it has to be. No one has ever seen a priest of the Serpent and survived, that's a fact. They operate in total secrecy."

"The politics of the Seven Empires are a complicated and monstrous affair," Brule said. "The true men know that among them lurk the spies of the serpent and those who are allies of the Serpent—like Kaanuub, the baron of Blaal—but no one dares to unmask a suspect for fear of vengeance. No one trusts each other, and the true statesmen are afraid to share their thoughts. If they could be sure, if a snake-man or plot could be revealed before everyone, the Serpent's power would be more than half broken; then everyone would unite and work together to weed out the traitors. Ka-nu alone has the cunning and courage to handle them, and even he only learned enough of their scheme to tell me what would happen—what has happened so far. Up to now, I was prepared; from here on, we must rely on our luck and our skills. Right now, I think we’re safe; those snake-men outside the door are too afraid to leave their post in case true men show up unexpectedly. But tomorrow, they'll definitely try something else, you can be sure of that. What they will do remains a mystery, even to Ka-nu; but we need to stick together, King Kull, until we either win or both end up dead. Now come with me while I take this body to the hiding place where I took the other one."

Kull followed the Pict with his gruesome load through the secret panel and down the dim corridor. Their feet, accustomed to the silence of the wilderness, made no sound. Like ghosts, they moved through the faint light, with Kull wondering why the corridors were empty; at every turn, he expected to encounter some terrifying sight. Doubts flooded back to him; was this Pict leading him into a trap? He took a step or two back from Brule, his drawn sword ready at the Pict's unaware back. Brule should be the first to go if he planned any treachery. But if the Pict noticed the king's suspicion, he gave no indication. He continued steadily until they reached a room, dusty and long forgotten, where musty tapestries hung heavily. Brule pushed aside some of these and hid the corpse behind them.

Then they turned to retrace their steps, when suddenly Brule stopped so abruptly that he was closer to death than he realized; for Kull's nerves were frayed.

"Something's moving in the hallway," hissed the Pict. "Ka-nu said these paths would be empty, yet——"

He unsheathed his sword and quietly entered the hallway, with Kull trailing cautiously behind.

A short way down the hallway, a strange, faint glow appeared and moved toward them. With their nerves on edge, they waited, backs against the wall; unsure of what to expect, but Kull heard Brule's breath hiss through his teeth and felt reassured about Brule's loyalty.

The glow blended into a shadowy figure. It resembled a man, but was misty and elusive, like a wisp of fog, becoming more tangible as it got closer, but never fully solid. A face turned toward them, with large, glowing eyes that seemed to hold the suffering of countless centuries. There was no threat in that face, with its dim, worn features, just immense pity—and that face—that face——

"Almighty gods!" Kull gasped, feeling a chill deep within; "Eallal, king of Valusia, who died a thousand years ago!"

Brule recoiled as much as he could, his narrow eyes widening in sheer terror, the sword trembling in his hand, unsettled for the first time that strange night. Kull stood tall and defiant, instinctively keeping his useless sword at the ready; skin crawling, hair standing on end, yet still a king of kings, prepared to confront both the forces of the unknown dead and the living.

The ghost came straight at them, not paying any attention; Kull recoiled as it moved past them, sensing a chilling breath like a gust from the arctic snow. The figure continued forward with slow, quiet steps, as if the weight of all ages were on those indistinct feet; disappearing around a corner in the hallway.

"Valka!" muttered the Pict, wiping the cold sweat from his brow; "that was no man! That was a ghost!"

"Aye!" Kull shook his head in disbelief. "Did you not recognize the face? That was Eallal, who ruled Valusia a thousand years ago and was found gruesomely murdered in his throne room—the room now called the Accursed Room. Haven't you seen his statue in the Hall of Kings?"

"Yeah, I remember the story now. Man, Kull! That’s just another sign of the terrifying and evil power of the snake priests—that king was killed by snake-people, and now his soul is their slave, forced to do their bidding forever! The wise have always said that if a person is killed by a snake-man, their spirit becomes their slave."

A shiver ran through Kull's massive body. "Valka! But what a fate! Listen"—his grip on Brule's muscular arm was like steel—"listen! If I am mortally wounded by these disgusting monsters, promise that you will drive your sword through my chest so that my soul won't be enslaved."

"I swear," Brule replied, his intense eyes shining. "And you do the same for me, Kull."

Their strong right hands joined in a silent agreement of their grim deal.

Masks

Kull sat on his throne and stared thoughtfully at the sea of faces looking at him. A courtier was speaking in calm, steady tones, but the king barely heard him. Nearby, Tu, the chief councilor, stood ready for Kull's orders, and every time the king glanced at him, Kull felt a shiver inside. The surface of court life was like the smooth surface of the sea during calm tides. To the contemplative king, the events of the previous night felt like a dream until his eyes fell on the arm of his throne. A brown, muscular hand rested there, adorned with a dragon armlet; Brule stood beside his throne, and the fierce, secret whispers of the Pict brought him back from the realm of fantasy he was drifting in.

No, that wasn’t a dream, that monstrous episode. As he sat on his throne in the Hall of Society, looking at the courtiers, the ladies, the lords, the statesmen, he felt like he was seeing their faces as illusions, things that weren’t real, existing only as shadows and mockeries of substance. He had always viewed their faces as masks, but before, he looked at them with a mix of contempt and tolerance, thinking underneath the masks lay shallow, weak souls—greedy, lustful, deceitful; now there was a grim undertone, a sinister implication, a vague horror lurking beneath the smooth surfaces. While he exchanged pleasantries with some nobleman or councilor, it felt as though the smiling face faded like smoke, revealing the frightening jaws of a serpent behind it. How many of those he looked at were horrifying, inhuman monsters plotting his death, hidden beneath the smooth, hypnotic illusion of a human face?

Valusia—land of dreams and nightmares—a kingdom of shadows, ruled by phantoms that moved back and forth behind the painted curtains, mocking the useless king who sat on the throne—himself a shadow.

And like a loyal companion, Brule stood by his side, his dark eyes glinting from his still face. A real man, Brule! Kull felt that his friendship with the savage was genuine and sensed that Brule felt a bond with him that went beyond simple political necessity.

And what, Kull thought, were the realities of life? Ambition, power, pride? The friendship of man, the love of women—which Kull had never experienced—battle, plunder, what? Was it the real Kull who sat on the throne or was it the real Kull who had climbed the hills of Atlantis, explored the distant isles of the sunset, and laughed at the green roaring waves of the Atlantean sea? How could a man be so many different people in one lifetime? Kull knew that there were many versions of himself, and he wondered which was the true Kull. After all, the priests of the Serpent just took their magic a step further, as all men wore masks, and each man or woman had many different masks; and Kull wondered if a serpent didn’t hide beneath every mask.

So he sat and pondered in deep, complicated thoughts, while the courtiers came and went and the minor tasks of the day were finished, until finally the king and Brule were left alone in the Hall of Society, except for the sleepy attendants.

Kull felt exhausted. Neither he nor Brule had slept the night before, nor had Kull slept the night before that, when he had first sensed the strange things to come in the gardens of Ka-nu. Last night, nothing else had happened after they returned to the study room from the secret corridors, but they hadn’t dared or wanted to sleep. Kull, with the incredible energy of a wolf, had previously gone days without sleep in his wild, savage days, but now his mind was frayed from constant thinking and the nerve-wracking eeriness of the previous night. He needed sleep, but it was the last thing on his mind.

And he wouldn’t have dared to sleep if he had considered it. Another thing that had unsettled him was the fact that, even though he and Brule had kept a close watch to see if or when the study-room guard changed, it actually changed without them knowing; because the next morning, those on guard were able to repeat the magic words of Brule but remembered nothing unusual. They thought they had been on guard all night, as usual, and Kull said nothing to contradict that. He believed them to be honest, but Brule had advised complete secrecy, and Kull also thought that was the best approach.

Now Brule leaned over the throne, lowering his voice so that even a lazy attendant couldn't hear: "I think they’ll attack soon, Kull. A little while ago, Ka-nu gave me a secret sign. The priests are aware that we know about their plot, of course, but they don’t know how much we really know. We need to be prepared for anything. Ka-nu and the Pictish chiefs will stay close by until this is resolved one way or another. Ha, Kull, if it comes to an all-out battle, the streets and castles of Valusia will be drenched in blood!"

Kull smiled grimly. He would welcome any kind of action with fierce enthusiasm. This aimless wandering in a maze of illusion and magic was incredibly frustrating to him. He craved the clash and ringing of swords, the exhilarating freedom of battle.

Then Tu entered the Hall of Society again, along with the other councilors.

"Your Majesty, the time for the council is here, and we are prepared to take you to the council room."

Kull stood up, and the councilors knelt as he walked through the path they opened for him, getting up behind him and following. Eyebrows went up as the Pict boldly walked behind the king, but no one spoke out. Brule's challenging glare scanned the smooth faces of the councilors with the defiance of an unwelcome outsider.

The group walked through the halls and finally reached the council chamber. The door was closed, as always, and the councilors positioned themselves by rank before the platform where the king stood. Like a bronze statue, Brule took his place behind Kull.

Kull quickly scanned the room with a sharp glance. There was definitely no chance of betrayal here. There were seventeen councilors, all of whom he knew; each one had supported him when he took the throne.

"Men of Valusia——" he started in the usual way, then stopped, confused. The councilors had stood up together and were moving towards him. There was no hostility in their expressions, but their behavior was odd for a council room. The closest one was near him when Brule leaped forward, crouching like a leopard.

"Ka nama kaa lajerama!" His voice crackled through the eerie silence of the room, and the leading councilor flinched, his hand darting towards his robes. Like a coiled spring released, Brule sprang into action, and the man fell forward into the glint of his sword—he fell hard and lay still as his face twisted and transformed into the head of a massive snake.

"Kill them, Kull!" the Pict's voice rasped. "They're all serpent-men!"

The rest was a red maze. Kull saw the familiar faces dim like fading fog and in their places gaped horrifying reptilian faces as the whole group rushed forward. His mind was dazed, but his massive body didn’t falter.

The sound of his sword echoed in the room, and a wave of red rushed in. But they pushed forward again, seemingly eager to sacrifice their lives to take down the king. Ugly jaws gaped at him; terrifying eyes stared intensely into his, and a terrible, foul smell filled the air—the serpent scent that Kull recognized from southern jungles. Swords and daggers lunged at him, and he was vaguely aware that they injured him. But Kull was in his element; he had never faced such fierce enemies before, but it didn't matter; they were alive, their veins full of blood that could be spilled, and they died when his massive sword split their skulls or drove through their bodies. Slash, thrust, thrust, and swing. Yet Kull would have died there if not for the man crouching by his side, parrying and striking. For the king was completely berserk, fighting in the brutal Atlantean style that seeks death to deliver death; he made no effort to dodge the thrusts and slashes, standing tall and always pushing forward, his frenzied mind consumed only with the urge to kill. Kull rarely forgot his fighting skills in his primal rage, but now some chain had snapped in his soul, flooding his mind with a wave of bloodlust. He killed an enemy with every blow, but they kept coming at him, and time and again Brule deflected a thrust that would have killed him, crouching beside Kull, blocking and fending off with cold precision, killing not as Kull did with long slashes and deep thrusts, but with quick overhand strikes and upward thrusts.

Kull laughed, a laugh of madness. The terrifying faces spun around him in a fiery red haze. He felt steel pierce his arm and dropped his sword in a swift arc that struck his opponent to the chest. Then the fog cleared and the king saw that he and Brule stood alone above a mass of grotesque red figures lying still on the ground.

"Wow! What a kill!" said Brule, wiping the blood from his eyes. "Kull, if these had been warriors who knew how to handle a sword, we would have died here. These serpent priests don't know anything about fighting and die easier than anyone I've ever killed. But if there had been a few more of them, I think things would have turned out differently."

Kull nodded. The wild berserker rage had faded, leaving him feeling deeply exhausted. Blood dripped from wounds on his chest, shoulder, arm, and leg. Brule, also bleeding from multiple cuts, looked at him with some worry.

"Lord Kull, let's hurry and get your wounds taken care of by the women."

Kull shoved him away with a careless swing of his powerful arm.

"Nah, we'll see this through before we stop. You go and get your wounds checked out—I insist on it."

The Pict laughed darkly. "You have more wounds than I do, lord king——" he started, then paused as a sudden realization hit him. "By Valka, Kull, this isn't the council room!"

Kull looked around and suddenly the other fogs seemed to disappear. "No, this is the room where Eallal died a thousand years ago—since left untouched and called 'Accursed'."

"Then by the gods, they really did trick us!" shouted Brule in anger, kicking the bodies at their feet. "They made us walk like idiots into their trap! With their magic, they altered the appearance of everything——"

"Then something shady is going on," said Kull, "because if there are real people in the councils of Valusia, they should be in the actual council room right now. Let's go quickly."

And leaving the room with its creepy guards, they rushed through halls that felt empty until they reached the actual council room. Then Kull stopped with a horrifying shudder. From the council room, a voice was speaking, and the voice was his!

With a trembling hand, he pulled aside the tapestries and looked into the room. There sat the councilors, the equivalents of the men he and Brule had just killed, and on the dais stood Kull, king of Valusia.

He stepped back, his mind spinning.

"This is crazy!" he whispered. "Am I Kull? Am I standing here, or is that Kull over there in reality, and am I just a shadow, a product of imagination?"

Brule's hand gripping his shoulder, shaking him hard, snapped him back to reality.

"Valka's name, don’t be foolish! Can you still be shocked after everything we've witnessed? Don’t you see that those are real men enchanted by a snake-man who has taken your appearance, just like the others did? By now, you should have been killed and that monster ruling in your place, unrecognized by those who bowed to you. Jump in and kill quickly, or we are finished. The Red Slayers, real men, are close on either side, and only you can reach and kill him. Be quick!"

Kull shook off the wave of dizziness, threw his head back in the familiar, defiant move. He took a long, deep breath like a strong swimmer does before diving into the ocean; then, pushing aside the tapestries, he leaped onto the dais in a single, powerful bound. Brule had spoken the truth. There stood the men of the Red Slayers, guardsmen trained to move as quickly as a striking leopard; anyone other than Kull would have died before reaching the usurper. But the sight of Kull, identical to the man on the dais, froze them in their tracks, their minds stunned for a moment, and that was enough. The man on the dais reached for his sword, but just as his fingers gripped the hilt, Kull's sword emerged from behind his shoulders, and what everyone thought was the king tumbled forward from the dais to lie silent on the floor.

"Stop!" Kull's raised hand and authoritative voice halted the charge that had begun, and as they stood in shock, he gestured to the object lying before them—its face transforming into that of a snake. They flinched, and from one door, Brule entered, while from another came Ka-nu.

These held the king's bloody hand and Ka-nu said: "People of Valusia, you have witnessed it yourselves. This is the real Kull, the strongest king Valusia has ever recognized. The Serpent's power is shattered and you are all true men. King Kull, do you have any orders?"

"Lift that corpse," said Kull, and the guards picked it up.

"Now follow me," said the king, and he walked toward the Accursed Room. Brule, looking worried, extended his arm for support, but Kull pushed him away.

The distance felt never-ending to the injured king, but finally, he reached the door and laughed harshly and darkly when he heard the shocked gasps of the councilors.

At his command, the guardsmen tossed the body they were carrying next to the others, and after signaling everyone to leave the room, Kull stepped out last and shut the door.

A wave of dizziness left him unsettled. The faces around him, pale and curious, swirled and blended in a hazy mist. He could feel the blood from his wound dripping down his arms and he realized that he had to act fast or not at all.

His sword slid out of its sheath with a harsh sound.

"Brule, are you around?"

"Aye!" Brule's face appeared next to him through the mist, but Brule's voice seemed leagues and eons away.

"Remember our promise, Brule. And now, tell them to step back."

His left arm created a space as he raised his sword. Then, with all his diminishing strength, he thrust it through the door into the frame, driving the huge sword in all the way and sealing the room for good.

Legs spread wide, he swayed unsteadily, facing the shocked councilors. "Let this room be doubly cursed. And may those decaying skeletons remain there forever as a symbol of the fading power of the serpent. Here I vow that I will chase the serpent-men from land to land, from sea to sea, giving no peace until they are all defeated, so that good prevails and the forces of Hell are crushed. This I swear—I—Kull—king—of—Valusia."

His knees gave out as the faces swayed and swirled. The councilors rushed forward, but before they could reach him, Kull collapsed to the floor and lay still, staring up.

The councilors crowded around the fallen king, talking loudly and screaming. Ka-nu pushed them away with his clenched fists, swearing fiercely.

"Step back, you idiots! Are you trying to suffocate the last bit of life left in him? How about it, Brule, is he dead or will he survive?"—to the warrior who was leaning over the unconscious Kull.

"Dead?" Brule scoffed irritably. "Someone like him isn't so easily killed. Lack of sleep and blood loss have weakened him—by Valka, he has a bunch of deep wounds, but none of them are fatal. Still, have those babbling idiots bring the court women here immediately."

Brule's eyes shone with a fierce, proud glow.

"Valka, Ka-nu, but here is a man I didn't know existed in these troubled times. He'll be in the saddle in just a few days, and then the serpent-men of the world better watch out for Kull of Valusia. Valka! That's going to be an exciting hunt! I can see many years of prosperity ahead for the world with such a king on the throne of Valusia."