"How do you want to fight? What does your heart and your brain tell
you?"
He stood and let the sunlight hit his forehead. It grew hotter and
hotter as he stood there, and inside his skull he felt something
stirring, and knew it for his opening brain. _Fight them where they are
most vulnerable, Tyr. Hit them at their core!_ The inner voice that was
his thought whispered again, _Destroy the Glow!_
"I must destroy the Glow," he said to her.
Katha shuddered, whispered in horror, "You cannot! You would die from
it long before you ever came to it. The Glow is terrible, awesome,
Tyr!"
The sunlight made a pattern on his chest as he turned. "Nevertheless,
that is what I must do."
The woman bowed her head and took his hand.
* * * * *
The city of Mart sprawled like a lazing slug upon the prairie. Aircraft
sped across its walls, winging into illimitable distances. The deep
hum of tradesmen's voices as they called their wares mingled with
the smooth roll of gyrocars, rising to form the soul of the great
metropolis. Armed guards clanged along the tops of the pyramidal walls.
A tall man clad like a mountain shepherd, in wool cloak and hood,
stalked beside a woman who went with downbent head, clinging to his
arm. Once in a while the woman whispered to him, and the man made a
turn into a different street.
They had dust on their cloaks and dust on their feet, those two.
Occasionally the woman stumbled, for she was a born actress. Yet an
airplane lay less than three miles from the city walls, hidden by
boughs torn from _hibithus_-trees.
"We are almost at the Commune," whispered the woman.
"There are no people here," the man said.
"Your Trylla approach not near to the building that houses the Glow.
They fear it too much."
They went faster, lengthening their steps. Opposite a tall white
building that had _ardth_ lettering graven into its stone, they slowed
and the woman spoke again.
"That is where the Glow is, hidden deep in the bowels of earth beneath
the Citadel. Always are there guards there. They must be overcome."
The man threw back the cloak, revealed big chest and long arms naked
under it. Head flung back, he studied the building eagerly.
"They will be overcome!"
The cloak fell to the flagging and the golden giant was gone in long
strides that carried him to the doors of the Citadel and within them.
The woman stood watching, then bent and lifted his fallen cloak, threw
it over her arm, and followed.
Inside the darkness of the Citadel, Tyr went on bare feet, with
uncanny silence. A guard came toward him, and he darted into the
shadows. When the guard was five paces away, Tyr struck.
He lowered the guard, and went on. Voices came from ahead of him.
"This Tyr will know how strong are the _ardth_ when he learns what has
befallen Zarman!"
"Aye! I wonder what has become of him? Is he dead?"
"Not he. He bides his time. He hopes for a rising of the Trylla!"
"With Zarman and his crew to be executed today, what chance have the
Trylla?"
Tyr was turned to stone. His heart hammered inside his chest. Zarman
to die! But how had the _ardth_ taken him? Once captured, he would be
twice as wary! His hands lifted in the shadows toward the guards, but
he held them still.
Tyr swung about and went on.
He did not know of the men outside in the street who halted suddenly
and looked at Katha excitedly. Their footfalls as they ran across the
street toward her went unheard by him as he raced along the corridors
of the Citadel.
Katha had no chance to scream. A wrist jammed her throat and an _ardth_
voice whispered, "Traitress!"
Tyr ran on.
A heavy throb pounded through the steel corridors, and along the
polished runways, and into the panelled rooms of the Citadel. Deep
down, seemingly in the guts of the planet, came the monotonous,
frightening beat and thunder of the Glow, pulsing in a powerful rhythm.
Not many men stayed long in this building, and the guards were changed
every few hours. No one had run into it with such gladness as did Tyr,
ever.
His feet barely touched the floor as he ran. He flexed his muscles,
testing his strength. He was fit and ready from a week of lying in
blazing sunlight, from basking under sun-lamps arranged by Katha to aid
her in her tests.
A guard saw him and yanked at a gun, but Tyr took his face in the palm
of his hand and banged his head against the polished steel wall, and
left him twitching but alive. Tyr ran swiftly now, heading down and
always downward along the ramps, deeper into the earth.
The farther he went, the more sullen grew the throb and roar. It
pounded at the temples, shook the walls, surging all around.
On a lintel before a metal elevator was inscribed an _ardth_ word. Tyr
knew it to be the warning of the Glow. But he put out his hand and
opened the elevator door and stepped within. He threw the switch.
There was a falling sensation for a moment, but that passed as Tyr
walked around his little cell, working his arms and legs. He was tense
and excited, waiting, waiting. This was to be the test. Katha said if
he lived through it, that it would be the most marvelous sensation of
his entire life. That it would, in some alchemic way, transmute him.
It was warm now. The car was falling faster and faster. Tyr wondered
why the _ardth_ bothered to have a car at all. If the Glow was all
rumor had it to be, the _ardth_ would have to build a new car every
time this journey was taken. But the ritual of the thing! The _ardth_
must maintain their superstitious hold on the Trylla.
He smiled. The _ardth_! They were his race, a people that called a
planet called Earth their home. It sounded so like the Tryllan word
_ardth_, meaning old, that the Trylla had always called them that. Even
the Earthmen accepted the term.
Hot was the car, like some monstrous bubble of fiery air. The light,
yellow and brilliant and blinding, came seeping in through cracks in
the jointures of the door.
The metal of the car was turning red, deepening to a cherry rose,
fading to a cold blue, dawning to a pale white....
* * * * *
In the Auditorium of Ancestors, Space Commander Mason sat languidly on
the highbacked ivory throne under an arched canopy. Sprayed fanwise
before him were gorgeously uniformed _ardth_ officers, stiff-backed as
they faced the girl with black hair and black eyes.
Fifteen feet from the throne, Katha stood with head flung back, smiling
at Commander Mason. "Your men are efficient, Space Commander," she
said. "They found me on the street."
"There is no one as lovely as Katha among the _ardth_," smiled Mason.
"There is no one as treacherous, either."
"I fled to Tyr because I felt him to be of help to us. He is--and will
be a help. He has gone now to destroy the Glow."
Mason was out of his seat in one tremendous explosion of speed. His
hands caught her arms.
"Destroy the Glow? Are you mad? Is he? Nothing can destroy the Glow!
What secret does he know?"
"No secret, other than himself. He is Tyr."
Mason clenched a fist, saying, "You said he could help us. It is no
help to destroy the Glow!"
"He cannot destroy it. He will learn that!"
"I think he will, too. It will destroy him, long before he reaches it.
But I have spoken enough with you. You must die for actions performed
detrimental to the _ardth_ welfare."
Space Commander Mason clapped his hands. Guards entered a doorway,
and behind them came ragged men with flogged backs, bleeding, wearing
manacles. Katha started toward them, before Mason caught her.