walk out of the citadel and leave it undefended for their enemies? What
about their guards? Did they just leave them too?" He was willing to
make the most of any flaw in the aliens' character.
"Most of their people had already escaped through underground ways. The
rest left when they knew the cutters had been sunk," Ashe returned. "As
to why they deserted the citadel, I don't know. The decision was
theirs."
There--up with the barrier between them again. But Ross refused to
accept the cutoff this time, determined to pull Ashe back into the
familiar world of the here and now.
"That keep could be a trap, about the best on this planet!" The idea was
more than just a gambit to attract Ashe's attention, it was true! A
perfect trap to catch Baldies.
"Don't you see," Ross sat up, slapped his feet down on the deck as he
leaned forward eagerly. "Don't you see ... if the Baldies know anything
at all about the Foanna, and I'm betting they do and want to learn all
they can, they'll visit the citadel. They won't want to depend on
second- and third-hand reports of the place, especially ones delivered
by primitives such as the Wreckers. They had a sub there. I'll bet the
crew are in picking over the loot right now!"
"If that's what they're hunting"--there was amusement in Ashe's
tone--"they won't find much. The Foanna have better locks than their
enemies have keys. You heard Ynlan before we left--any secrets left will
remain secrets."
"But there's bait--bait for a trap!" argued Ross.
"You're right!" To the younger man's joy Ashe's enthusiasm was plain.
"And if the Baldies could be led to believe that what they wanted was
obtainable with just a little more effort, or the right tools--"
"The trap could net bigger catch than just underlings!" Ross's thought
matched Ashe's. "Why, it might even pull in the VIP directing the whole
operation! How can we set it up, and do we have time?"
"The trap would have to be of Foanna setting; our part would come after
it was sprung." Ashe was thoughtful again. "But it is the only move
which we can make at present with any hope of success. And it will only
work if the Foanna are willing."
"Have to be done quickly," Ross pointed out.
"Yes, I'll see." Ashe was a dark figure against the thin light of the
companionway as he slid back the cabin door. "If Ynvalda agrees...." As
he went out Ross was right behind him.
The Foanna had been given, by their own choice, quarters on the bow deck
of the cruiser where sailcloth had been used to form a tent. Not that
any of the awe-stricken Rovers would venture too near them. Ashe reached
for the flap of the fabric and a lilting voice called:
"You seek us, Gordoon?"
"This is important."
"Yes, it is important, for the thought which brings you both has merit.
Enter then, brothers!"
The flap was looped aside and before them was a swirling of
mist? ... light? ... sheets of pale color? Ross could not have described
what he saw--save if the Foanna were there, he could not distinguish them
from the rippling of their hair, the melting film of their robes.
"So, younger brother, you think that which was our home and our treasure
box has now become a trap for the confounding of those who believe we
are a threat to them?"
Somehow Ross was not surprised that they knew about his idea before he
had said a word, before Ashe had given any explanations. Their
omniscience was only a small portion of their other talents.
"Yes."
"And why do you believe so? We swear to you that the coast folk can not
be driven into those parts of the castle which mean the most, any more
than our sea gate can be breached unless we will it so."
"Yet I swam through the sea gate, and the sub was there also." Ross knew
again a flash of--was it pleasure?--at being able to state this fact.
There _were_ chinks in the Foanna defenses.
"Again the truth. You have that within you, young brother, which is both
a lack and a shield. True also that this underseas ship entered after
you. Perhaps it has a shield as part of it; perhaps those from the stars
have their own protection. But they can not reach the heart of what they
wish, not unless we open the doors for them. It is your belief, younger
brother, that they still strive to force such doors?"
"Yes. Knowing there is something to be learned, they will try for it.
They will not dare not to." Ross was very certain on that point. His
encounters with the Baldies had not led to any real understanding. But
the way they had wiped out the line of Russian time stations made him
sure that they dealt thoroughly with any situation they considered a
threat.
From the prisoners taken at Kyn Add they had learned the invaders
believed the Foanna their enemies here, even though the Old Ones had not
repulsed them or their activities. Therefore, it followed that, having
taken the stronghold, the Baldies would endeavor to rip open every one
of its secrets.
"A trap with good bait--"
Ross wondered which one of the Foanna said that. To see nothing but the
swirls of mist-color, listen to disembodied voices from it, was
disconcerting. Part of the stage dressing, he decided, for building
their prestige with the other races with whom they dealt. Three women
alone would have to buttress their authority with such trappings.
"Ah, younger brother, indeed you are beginning to understand us!"
Laughter, soft, but unmistakable.
Ross frowned. He did not feel the touch-go-touch of mental communication
which the dolphins used. But he did not doubt that the Foanna read his
thoughts, or at least a few of them.
"Some of them," echoed from the mist. "Not all--not as your older
brother's or the maiden whose mind meets with ours. With you, younger
brother, it is a thought here, a thought there, and only our intuition
to connect them into a pattern. But now, there is serious planning to be
done. And, knowing this enemy, you believe they will come to search for
what they can not find. So you would set a trap. But they have weapons
beyond your weapons, have they not, younger brother? Brave as are these
Rover kind, they can not use swords against flame, their hands against a
killer who may stand apart and slay. What remains, Gordoon? What remains
in our favor?"
"You have your weapons, too," Ashe answered.
"Yes, we have our weapons, but long have they been used only in one
pattern, and they are atuned to another race. Did our defenses hold
against you, Gordoon, when you strove to prove that you were as you
claimed to be? And did another repulse younger brother when he dared the
sea gate? So can we trust them in turn against these other strangers
with different brains? Only at the testing shall we know, and in such
learning perhaps we shall also be forced to eat the sourness of defeat.
To risk all may be to lose all."
"That may be true," Ashe assented.
"You mean the sight you have had into our future says that this happens?
Yes, to stake all and to lose--not only for ourselves, but for all
others here--that is a weighty decision to make, Gordoon. But the trap
promises. Let us think on it for a space. Do you also consult with the
Rovers if they wish to take part in what may be desperate folly."
Torgul paced the afterdeck, well away from the tent which sheltered the
Foanna, but with his eyes turning to it as Ross explained what might be
a good attack.
"Those women-killers would have no fear of Foanna magic, rather would
they come to seek it out? It would be a chance to catch leaders in a
trap?"
"You have heard what the prisoners said or thought. Yes, they would seek
out such knowledge and we would have this chance to capture them--"
"With what?" Torgul demanded. "I am not Ongal to argue that it is better
to die in pursuit of blood payment than to take an enemy or enemies with
me! What chance have we against their powers?"
"Ask that of them!" Ross nodded toward the still silent tent.
Even as he spoke the three cloaked Foanna emerged, pacing down to
mid-ship where Torgul and his lieutenants, Ross and Ashe came to meet
them.
"We have thought on this." The lilting half chant which the Foanna used
for ordinary communication was a song in the dawn wind. "It was in our
minds to retreat, to wait out this troubling of the land, since we are
few and that which we hold within us is worth the guarding. But now,
what profit such guardianship when there may be none to whom we may pass
it after us? And if you have seen the truth, elder brother"--the cowled
heads swung to Ashe--"then there may be no future for any of us. But
still there are our limitations. Rover," now they spoke directly to
Torgul, "we can not put your men within the citadel by desiring--not
without certain aids which lie sealed there now. No, we, ourselves, must
win inside bodily and then ... then, perhaps, we can pull tight the
lines of our net!"
"To run a cruiser through the gate--" Torgul began.
"No, not a ship, Captain. A handful of warriors in the water can risk
the gate, but not a ship."
Ashe broke in, "How many gill-packs do we have?"
Ross counted hurriedly. "I left one cached ashore. But there's mine and
Karara's and Loketh's--also two more--"
"To pass the gates," that was the Foanna, "we ourselves shall not need
your underwater aids."
"You," Ross said to Ashe, "and I with Karara's pack----"
"For Karara!"
Both the Terrans looked around. The Polynesian girl stood close to the
Foanna, smiling faintly.
"This venture is mine also," she spoke with conviction. "As it is
Tino-rau's and Taua's. Is that not so, Daughters of the Alii of this
world?"
"Yes, Sea Maid. There are weapons of many sorts, and not all of them fit
into a warrior's hand or can be swung with the force of a man's arm and
shoulder. Yes, this venture is yours, also, sister."
Ross's protests bubbled unspoken; he had to accept the finality of the
Foanna decree. It seemed now that the make-up of their task force
depended upon the whims of the three rather than the experience of those
trained to such risks. And Ashe was apparently willing to accept their
leadership.
So it was an odd company that took to the water just as dawn colored the
sky. Loketh had clung fiercely to his pack, insisted that he be one of
the swimmers, and the Foanna accepted him as well. Ross and Ashe,
Loketh, and Baleku, a young under-officer of Ongal's, accorded the best
swimmer of the fleet, Karara and the dolphins. And with them those three
others, shapes sliding smoothly through the water, as difficult to
define in this new element as they had been in their tent. Before them
frisked the dolphins. Tino-rau and Taua played about the Foanna in an
ecstatic joy and when all were in the sea they shot off shoreward.
That sub within the sea gate, had it unleashed the same lethal broadcast
as the one at Kyn Add? But the dolphins could give warning if that were
so.
Ross swam easily, Ashe next, Loketh on his left, Baleku a little behind
and Karara to the fore as if in vain pursuit of the dolphins--the Foanna
well to the left. A queer invasion party, even queerer when one totaled
up the odds which might lie ahead.
There was no mist or storm this morning to hide the headlands where the
Foanna citadel stood. And the promontories of the sea gate were starkly
clear in the growing light. The same drive which always was a part of
Ross when he was committed to action sustained him now, though he was
visited by a small prick of doubt when he thought that the leadership
did not lie with Ashe but with the Foanna.
No warning of any trouble ahead as they passed between the mighty,
sea-sunk bases of the gate pillars. Ross depended upon his sonic, but
there was no adverse report from the sensitive recorder. The terrible
chill of the water during the night attack had been dissipated, but here
and there dead sea things floated, being torn and devoured by hunters of
the waves.
They were well past the pillars when Ross was aware that Loketh had
changed place in the line, spurting ahead. After him went Baleku. They
caught up with Karara, flashed past her.
Ross looked to Ashe, on to the Foanna, but saw nothing to explain the
action of the two Hawaikans. Then his sonic beat out a signal from Ashe.
"Danger ... follow the Foanna ... left."
Karara had already changed course to head in that direction. Ahead of
her he could see Loketh and Baleku both still bound for the mid-point of
the shore where the jetty and the sunken cutters were. Ashe passed
before him, and Ross reluctantly followed orders.
A shelf of rock reached out from the cliff wall, under it a dark
opening. The Foanna sought this without hesitation, Ashe, Karara, and
Ross following. Moments later they were out of the water where footing
sloped back and up. Below them Tino-rau and Taua nosed the rise, their
heads lifting out of the water as they "spoke." And Karara hastened to
reply.
"Loketh ... Baleku ..." Ross began when he caught a mental stroke of
anger so deadly that it was a chill lance into his brain. He faced the
Foanna, startled and a little frightened.
"They will not come--now." A knob-crowned wand stretched out in the air,
pointing to the upper reaches of the slope. "Nor can any of their
blood--unless we win."
"What is wrong?" Ashe asked.
"You were right, very right, men out of time! These invaders are not to
be lightly dismissed. They have turned one of our own defenses against
us. Loketh, Baleku, all of their kind, can be made into tools for a
master. They belong to the enemy now."
"And we have failed so early?" Karara wanted to know.
Again that piercing thrust of anger so vivid that it was no mere emotion
but seemed a tangible force.
"Failed? No, not yet have we even begun to fight! You were very right;
this is such an evil as must be faced and fought, even if we lose all in
battle! Now we must do that which none of our own race has done for
generations--we must open three locks, throw wide the Great Door, and
seek out the Keeper of the Closed Knowledge!"
Light, a sharp ray sighting from the tip of the wand. And the Foanna
following that beam, the three Terrans coming after ... into the
unknown.
16
The Opening of the Great Door
It was not the general airlessness of the long-closed passage which wore
on Ross's nerves, made Karara suddenly reach out and clasp fingers about
the wrists of the two men she walked between; it was a crushing
sensation of age, of a toll of years so long, so heavy, as to make time
itself into a turgid flood which tugged at their bodies, mired their
feet as they trudged after the Foanna. This sense of age, of a dead and
heavy past, was so stifling that all three Terrans breathed in gasps.
Karara's breaths became sobs. Yet she matched her pace to Ashe and Ross,
kept going. Ross himself had little idea of their surroundings, but one
small portion of his brain asked answerless questions. The foremost
being: Why did the past crush in on him here? He had traveled time, but
never before had he been beaten with the feel of countless dead and
dying years.
"Going back--" That hoarse whisper came from Ashe, and Ross thought he
understood.
"A time gate!" He was eager to accept such an explanation. Time gates he
could understand, but that the Foanna used one....
"Not our kind," Ashe replied.
But his words had pulled Ross out of a spell which had been as quicksand
about him. And he began to fight back with a determination not to be
sucked into what filled this place. In spite of Ross's efforts, his eyes
could supply him with no definite impression of where they were. The
ramp had led them out of the sea, but where they walked now, linked hand
to hand, Ross could not say. He could see the glimmer of the Foanna;
turning his head he could see his companions as shadows, but all beyond
that was utter dark.
"Ahhhh--" Karara's sobs gave way to a whisper which was half moan. "This
is a way of gods, old gods, gods who never dealt with men! It is not
well to walk the road of the gods!"
Her fear lapped to Ross. He faced that emotion as he had faced so many
different kinds of fear all his life. Sure, he felt that pressure on
him, not the pressure of past centuries now--but a power beyond his
ability to describe.
"Not our gods!" Ross put his stubborn defiance into words, more as a
shield against his own wavering. "No power where there is no belief!"
From what half-forgotten bit of reading had he dredged that knowledge?
"No being without belief!" he repeated.
To his vast amazement he heard Ashe laugh, though the sound bordered on
hysteria.
"No belief, no power," the older man replied. "You've speared the right
fish, Ross! No gods of ours dwell here, Karara, and whatever god does
has no rights over us. Hold to that, girl, hold tight!"
"Ah, ye forty thousand gods,
Ye gods of sea, of sky, of woods,
Of mountains, of valleys,
Ye assemblies of gods,
Ye elder brothers of the gods that are,
Ye gods that once were,
Ye that whisper. Ye that watch by night,
Ye that show your gleaming eyes,
Come down, awake, stir,
Walk this road, walk this road!"
She was singing, first softly and then more strongly, the liquid words
of her own tongue repeated in English as if what she strove to call she
would share with her companions. Now there was triumph in her singing
and Ross found himself echoing her, "Walk this road!" as a demand.
It was still there, all of it, the crushing weight of the past, and that
which brooded within that past, which had reached out for them, to
possess or to alter. Only they were free of that reaching now. And they
could see too! The fuzzy darkness was lighter and there were normal
walls about them. Ross put out his free hand and rubbed finger tips
along rough stone.
Once more their senses were assaulted by a stealthy attack from beyond
the bounds of space and time as the walls fell away and they came out
into a wide space whose boundaries they could not see. Here that which
brooded was strong, a mighty weight poised aloft to strike them down.
"Come down, awake, stir...." Karara's pleading sank again to a whisper,
her voice sounded hoarse as if her mouth were dry, her words formed by a
shrunken tongue, issued from a parched throat.
Light spreading in channels along the floor, making a fiery
pattern--patterns within patterns, intricate designs within designs.
Ross jerked his eyes away from those patterns. To study them was danger,
he knew without being warned. Karara's nails bit into his flesh and he
welcomed that pain; it kept him alert, conscious of what was Ross
Murdock, holding him safely apart from something greater than he, but
entirely alien.
The designs and patterns were lines on a pavement. And now the three
Foanna, swaying as if yielding to unseen winds, began to follow those
patterns with small dancing steps. But the Terrans remained where they
were, holding to one another for the sustaining strength their contact
offered.
Back, forth, the Foanna danced--and once more their cloaks vanished or
were discarded, so their silver-bright figures advanced, retreated,
weaving a way from one arabesque to another. First about the outer rim
and then in, by spirals and circles. No light except the crimson glowing
rivulets on the floor, the silver bodies of the Foanna moving back and
forth, in and out.
Then, suddenly, the three dancers halted, huddled together in an open
space between the designs. And Ross was startled by the impression of
confusion, doubt, almost despair wafted from them to the Terrans. Back
across the patterned floor they came, their hands clasped even as the
Terrans stood together, and now they fronted the three out of time.
"Too few ... we are too few...." she who was the mid one of the trio
said. "We can not open the Great Door."
"How many do you need?" Karara's voice was no longer parched,
frightened. She might have traveled through fear to a new serenity.
Why did he think that, Ross wondered fleetingly. Was it because he, too,
had had the same release?
The Polynesian girl loosed her grip on her companions' hands, taking a
step closer to the Foanna.
"Three can be four--"
"Or five." Ashe moved up beside her. "If we suit your purpose."
Was Gordon Ashe crazy? Or had he fallen victim to whatever filled this
place? Yet it was Ashe's voice, sane, serene, as Ross had always heard
it. The younger Agent wet his lips; it was his turn to have a dry mouth.
This was not his game; it could not be. Yet he summoned voice enough to
add in turn:
"Six--"
When it came the Foanna answer was a warning:
"To aid us you must cast aside your shields, allow your identities to
become one with our forces. Having done so, it may be that you shall
never be as you are now but changed."
"Changed...."
The word echoed, perhaps not in the place where they stood, but in
Ross's head. This was a risk such as he had never taken before. His
chances in the past had been matters of action where his own strength
and wits were matched against the problem. Here, he would open a door to
forces he and his kind should not meet--expose himself to danger such as
did not exist on the plane where weapons and strength of arm could
decide victory or defeat.
And this was not really his fight at all. What did it matter to Terrans
ten thousand years or so in the future what happened to Hawaikans in
this past? He was a fool; they were all fools to become embroiled in
this. The Baldies and their stellar empire--if that ever had existed as
the Terrans surmised--was long gone before his breed entered space.
"If you accomplish this with our aid," said Ashe, "will you be able to
defeat the invaders?"
Again a lengthening moment of silence before the Foanna replied:
"We can not tell. We only know that there is a force laid up here, set
behind certain gates in the far past, upon which we may call for some
supreme effort. But this much we also know: The Evil of the Shadow
reaches out from here now, and where that darkness falls men will no
longer be men but things in the guise of men who obey and follow as
mindless creatures. As yet this shadow of the Shadow is a small one. But
it will spread, for that is the nature of those who have spawned it.
They have chanced upon and corrupted a thing we know. Such power feeds
upon the will to power. Having turned it to their bidding, they will not
be able to resist using it, for it is so easy to do and the results
exult the nature of those who employ it.
"You have said that you and those like you who travel the time trails
fear to change the past. Here the first steps have been taken to alter
the future, but unless we complete the defense it will be ill for all of
us."
"And this is your only weapon?" Ashe asked once more.
"The only one strong enough to stand against that which is now
unleashed."
In the pavement the fiery lines were bright and glowing. Even when Ross
shut his eyes, parts of those designs were still visible against his
eyelids.
"We don't know how." He made a last feeble protest on the side of
prudence. "We couldn't move as you did."
"Apart, no--together, yes."
The silvery figures were once more swaying, the mist which was their
hair flowing about them. Karara's hands went out, and the slender
fingers of one of the Foanna lifted, closed about firm, brown Terran
flesh. Ashe was doing the same!
Ross thought he cried out, but he could not be sure, as he watched
Karara's head begin to sway in concert with her Foanna partner, her
black hair springing out from her shoulders to rival the rippling
strands of the alien's. Ashe was consciously matching steps with the
companion who also drew him along a flowing line of fire.
In this last instant Ross realized the time for retreat was past--there
was no place left to go. His hands went out, though he had to force that
invitation because in him there was a shrinking horror of this
surrender. But he could not let the others go without him.
The Foanna's touch was cool, and yet it seemed that flesh met his flesh,
fingers as normal as his met fingers in that grasp. And when that hold
was complete he gave a small gasp. For his horror was wiped away; he
knew in its place a burst of energy which could be disciplined to use as
a weapon or a tool in concentrated and complicated action. His feet so
... and then so.... Did those directions flow without words from the
Foanna's fingers to his and then along his nerves to his brain? He only
knew which was the proper next step, and the next, and the next, as they
wove their way along the pattern lines, with their going adding a
necessary thread to a design.