The leader smiled. All mankind's indomitable hope was in the smile.
"Would the Protectors have spent all their efforts, and ours, to find
you if there were no hope? They have mighty and terrible powers. With
the right man for their vessel, they could be stronger than the Aesir.
No man could stand alone against the Aesir. The Protectors could
not stand alone. But together--sword and hand and brain welded into
one--yes, Stuart, there's a chance!"
"Then why have the others failed?"
"No one has yet been quite strong enough. Only once in forty
years--fifty--is a man born who might, with luck, have the courage
and the strength. Look at us here--do you think we would not offer
ourselves gladly? Instead, the Protectors guided us to you. If you are
willing to let them establish contact with your mind, enter it, possess
it--there's a chance the Aesir can be destroyed. There's a chance that
man's slavery may be ended!" His voice shook with that mighty hope.
Stuart glanced around at the ardent, fanatical faces, and something in
him took a slow fire from the fire in theirs. A deep and vital purpose,
as old as humanity--how many times before in Earth's history had men
of Earth gathered in hidden rooms and sworn vows against tyranny and
oppression? How many times before had Earthmen dedicated themselves and
their son's sons, if need be, to the old, old dream that though men may
die, mankind must in the end be free?
Here in this crowded room the torch of freedom still burned, despite
the hell of slavery under which the worlds toiled now.
He hesitated.
"It won't be easy, Stuart," the man warned. "A sword--blade must be
hammered on the anvil, heated in flame, before it's tempered. The
Protectors will test you--so that your mind may be toughened to resist
the attacks of the Aesir later. You will suffer...."
He had suffered. Those agonizing, nightmare dreams in the forest,
the phantoms that had tortured him--other trials he did not want to
remember. But there had been no flaw in the blade. In the end--the
Protectors had been satisfied, and had entered his mind--maintaining
the contact that still held, though thinly now.
And the voices he heard still whispering within him were the voices of
his mentors....
"We took your memories from you. So that the Aesir could not read too
much in your mind, and be forewarned. Now that does not matter, and you
will be stronger with your memory restored. But when you let the girl
clasp the cloak about you--that was failure."
"If I could move," Stuart thought. "If I could rip it off--"
"It is part of you. We do not know how it can be removed. And while you
wear it, we cannot give you our power."
Stuart said bitterly. "If you'd given me that power in the first
place--"
* * * * *
"We did. How do you think you survived the first testing by the Aesir?
And it is dangerous. We must gauge it carefully, so that we do not
transmit too much of our mental energy to you. You are merely human--if
we let you draw on a tenth of our power, that would burn you out like a
melting wire under a strong current."
"So--what now?"
"We have lost again. You have lost, and we are sorry. All we can do
is give you an easy death. We possess you now, mentally; if we should
withdraw from your brain, you would die instantly. We will do that
whenever you ask. For the Aesir will kill you anyhow now, and not
pleasantly."
"I'm not committing suicide. As long as I live, I can still fight."
"We also. This has happened before. We have chosen and possessed other
champions, and they have failed. We withdrew from their minds before
the Aesir ... killed ... so that we could survive to try again. To
wage another battle. Some day we will win. Some day we shall destroy
the Aesir. But we dare not cling to our broken swords, lest we too be
broken."
"So when the going gets tough you step out!"
Stuart sensed pity in the strange twin voice. "We must. We fight for
the race of man. And the greatest gift we can give you now is quick
death."
"I don't want it," Stuart thought furiously. "I'm going to keep on
fighting! Maybe that's why you've always failed before--you were too
ready to give up. So I'll die if you step out of my mind? Well--it's a
lousy bargain!"
There was no anger, only a stronger overtone of pity in the still voice.
"What is it you want, Stuart?"
"Nothing from you! Just let me go on living. I'll do my own fighting.
There'll be time enough to take a powder when the axe falls. I'm asking
you simply this--keep me alive until I've had another crack at the
Aesir!"