that sweet thrumming, akin to the lilting speech of the Foanna, or was
it a throbbing in his blood? In and out.... What had become of the
others he did not know; he was aware only of his own path, of the hand
in his, of the silvery shape at his side to whom he was now tied as if
one of the Rover capture nets enclosed them both.
The fiery lines under his feet were smoking, tendrils rising and
twisting as the hair of the Foanna rippled and twisted. And the smoke
clung, wreathed his body. They moved in a cocoon of smoke, thicker and
thicker, until Ross could not even see the Foanna who accompanied him,
was only assured of her presence by the hand which grasped his.
And a small part of him clung desperately to the awareness of that clasp
as an anchorage against what might come, a tie between the world of
reality and the place into which he was passing.
How did one find words to describe this? Ross wondered with that part of
him which remained stubbornly Ross Murdock, Terran Time Agent. He
thought that he did not see with his eyes, hear with his ears but used
other senses his own kind did not recognize nor acknowledge.
Space ... not a room ... a cave-anything made by normal nature. Space
which held something.
Pure energy? His Terran mind strove to give name to that which was
nameless. Perhaps it was that spark of memory and consciousness which
gave him that instant of "Seeing." Was it a throne? And on it a
shimmering figure? He was regarded intently, measured, and--set aside.
There were questions or a question he could not hear, and perhaps an
answer he would never be able to understand. Or had any of this happened
at all?
Ross crouched on a cold floor, his head hanging, drained of energy, of
all that feeling of power and well-being he had had when they had begun
their dance across the symbols. About him those designs still glowed
dully. When he looked at them too intently his head ached. He could
almost understand, but the struggle was so exhausting he winced at the
effort.
"Gordon--?"
There was no clasp on his hand; he was alone, alone between two glowing
arabesques. That loneliness struck at him with the sharpness of a blow.
His head came up; frantically he stared about him in search of his
companions. "Gordon!" His plea and demand in one was answered:
"Ross?"
On his hands and knees, Ross used the rags of his strength to crawl in
that direction, stopping now and then to shade his eyes with his hands,
to peer through the cracks between his fingers for some sight of Ashe.
There he was, sitting quietly, his head up as if he were listening, or
striving to listen. His cheeks were sunken; he had the drained, worn
look of a man strained to the limit of physical energy. Yet there was a
quiet peace in his face. Ross crawled on, put out a hand to Ashe's arm
as if only by touching the other could he be sure he was not an
illusion. And Ashe's fingers came up to cover the younger man's in a
grasp as tight as the Foanna's hold had been.
"We did it; together we did it," Ashe said. "But where--why--?"
Those questions were not aimed at him, Ross knew. And at that moment the
younger man did not care where they had been, what they had done. It was
enough that his terrible loneliness was gone, that Ashe was here.
Still keeping his hold on Ross, Ashe turned his head and called into the
wilderness of the symbol-glowing space about them, "Karara?"
She came to them, not crawling, not wrung almost dry of spirit and
strength, but on her two feet. About her shoulders her dark hair waved
and spun--or was it dark now? Along those strands there seemed to be
threaded motes of light, giving a silvery sheen which was a faint echo
of the Foanna's tresses. And was it only his bemused and bewildered
sight, Ross mused, or was her skin fairer?
Karara smiled down at them and held out her hands, offering one to each.
When they took them Ross knew again that surge of energy he had felt
when he had followed the Foanna into the maze dance.
"Come! There is much to do."
He could not be mistaken; her voice held the singing lilt of the Foanna.
Somehow she had crossed some barrier to become a paler, perhaps a
lesser, but still a copy of the three aliens. Was this what they had
meant when they warned of a change which might come to those who
followed them into the ritual of this place?
Ross looked from the girl to Ashe with searching intensity. No, he could
see no outward change in Gordon. And he felt none within himself.
"Come!" Some of Karara's old impetuousness returned as she tugged at
them, urging them to their feet and drawing them with her. She appeared
to know where they must go, and both men followed her guidance.
Once more they came out of the weird and alien into the normal, for here
were the rock walls of a passage running up at an angle which became so
steep they were forced to pull along by handholds hollowed in the walls.
"Where are we going?" Ashe asked.
"To cleanse." Karara's answer was ambiguous, and she sped along hardly
touching the handholds. "But hurry!"
They finished their climb and were in another corridor where patches of
sunlight came through a pierced wall to dazzle their eyes. This was
similar to the way which had run beside the courtyard in Zahur's castle.
Ross looked out of the first opening down into a courtyard. But where
Zahur's had held the busy life of a castle, this was silent. Silent, but
not deserted. There were men below, armed, helmed. He recognized the
uniform of the Wrecker warriors, saw one or two who wore the gray of the
Foanna servants. They stood in lines, unmoving, without speech among
themselves, men who might have been frozen into immobility and arranged
so for some game in which they were the voiceless, will-less pieces.
And their immobility was a thing to arouse fear. Were they dead and
still standing?
"Come!" Karara's voice had sunk to a whisper and her hand pulled at the
men.
"What--?" began Ross.
Ashe shook his head. Those rows below drawn up as if in order to march,
unliving rows. They could not be alive as the Terrans knew life!
Ross left his vantage point, ready to follow Karara. But he could not
blot from his mind the picture of those lines, nor forget the terrible
blankness which made their faces more unhuman, more frightenly alien
than those of the Foanna.
17
Shades Against Shadow
The corridor ended in a narrow slit of room, and the wall before them
was not the worked stone of the citadel but a single slab of what
appeared to be glass curdled into creamy ridges and depressions.
Here were the Foanna, their robes once more cloaking them. Each held,
point out, one of the rods. They moved slowly but with the precise
gestures of those about a demanding and very important task as they
traced each depression in the wall before them with the wand points.
Down, up, around ... as their feet had moved in the dance pattern, so
now their wands moved to cover each line.
"Now!"
The wands dropped points to the floor. The Foanna moved equidistant from
one another. Then, as one, the rods were lifted vertically, brought down
together with a single loud tap.
On the wall the blue lines they had traced with such care darkened,
melted. The glassy slab shivered, shattered, fell outward in a lace of
fragments. So the narrow room became a balcony above a large chamber.
Below a platform ran the full length of that hall, and on it were
mounted a line of oval disks. These had been turned to different angles
and each reflected light, a ray beam directed at them from a machine
whose metallic casing, projecting antennae, was oddly out of place here.
Once more the three staffs of the Foanna raised as one in the air. This
time, from the knobs held out over the hall blazed, not the usual whirl
of small sparks, but strong beams of light--blue light darkening as it
pierced downward until it became thrusting lines of almost tangible
substance.
When those blue beams struck the nearest ovals they webbed with lines
which cracked wide open. Shattered bits tinkled down to the platform.
There was a stir at the end of the hall where the machine stood. Figures
ran into plain sight. Baldies! Ross cried out a warning as he saw those
star men raise weapon tubes aimed at the perch on which the Foanna
stood.
Fire crackling with the speed and sound of lightning lashed up at the
balcony. The lances of light met the spears of dark, and there was a
flash which blinded Ross, a sound which split open the whole world.
The Terran's eyes opened, not upon darkness but on dazzling light,
flashes of it which tore over him in great sweeping arcs. Dazed, sick,
he tried to press his prone body into the unyielding surface on which he
lay. But there was no way of burrowing out of this wild storm of light
and clashing sound. Now under him the very fabric of the floor rocked
and quivered as if it were being shaken apart into crumbling rubble.
All the will and ability to move was gone. Ross could only lie there and
endure. What had happened, he did not know save that what raged about
him now was a warring of inimical forces, perhaps both feeding on each
other even as they strove for mastery.
The play of rays resembled sword blades crossing, fencing. Ross threw
his arm over his eyes to shut out the intolerable brilliance of that
thrust and counter. His body tingled and winced as the whirlwind of
energy clashed and reclashed. He was beaten, stupid, as a man pinned
down too long under a heavy shelling.
How did it end? In one terrific thunderclap of sound and blasting power?
And when did it end--hours ... days later? Time was a thing set apart
from this. Ross lay in the quiet which his body welcomed thirstily. Then
he was conscious of the touch of wind on his face, wind carrying the
hint of sea salt.
He opened his eyes and saw above him a patch of clouded sky. Shakily he
levered himself up on his elbows. There were no complete walls any more,
just jagged points of masonry, broken teeth set in a skull's jawbone.
Open sky, dark clouds spattering rain.
"Gordon? Karara?" Ross's voice was a thin whisper. He licked his lips
and tried again:
"Gordon!"
Had there been an answering whimper? Ross crawled into a hollow between
two fallen blocks. A pool of water? No, it was the cloak of one of the
Foanna spread out across the flooring in this fragment of room. Then
Ross saw that Ashe was there, the cloaked figure braced against the
Terran's shoulder as he half supported, half embraced the Foanna.
"Ynvalda!" Ashe called that with an urgency which was demanding. Now the
Foanna moved, raising an arm in the cloak's flowing sleeve.
Ross sat back on his heels.
"Ross--Ashe?" He turned his head. Karara stood here, then came forward,
planting her feet with care, her hands outstretched, her eyes wide and
unseeing. Ross pulled himself up and went to her, finding that the once
solid floor seemed to dip and sway under him, until he, too, must
balance and creep. His hands closed on her shoulders and he pulled her
to him in mutual support.
"Gordon?"
"Over there. You all right?"
"I think so." Her voice was weak. "The Foanna ... Ynlan ... Ynvalda--"
Steadying herself against him, she tried to look around.
The place which had once been a narrow room, then a balcony, was now a
perch above stomach-turning space. The hall of the oval mirrors was
gone, having disappeared into a hollow the depths of which were veiled
by a vapor which boiled and bubbled as if, far below, some huge caldron
hung above a blazing fire.
Karara cried out and Ross drew her back from that drop. He was
clearer-headed now and looked about for some way down from this doubtful
perch. Of the other two Foanna there was no sign. Had they been sucked
up and out in the inferno they had created with their unleashing of
energy against the Baldies' installation?
"Ross--look!" Karara's cry, her upflung arm directed his attention
aloft.
Under the sullen gathering of the storm a sphere arose as a bubble might
seek the surface of a pool before breaking. A ship--a Baldy ship taking
off from the ruined citadel! So some of the enemy had survived that
trial of strength!
The globe was small, a scout used for within-atmosphere exploration,
Ross judged. It arose first, and then moved inland, fleeing the
gathering storm, to be out of sight in moments. Inland, where the
mountain base of the invaders was reputed to be. Retreating? Or bound to
gather reinforcements?
"Baldies?" Karara asked.
"Yes."
She wiped her hand across her face, smearing dust and grime on her
cheeks. As raindrops pattered about them, Ross drew the girl with him
into the alcove where Ashe sheltered with the Foanna. The cowled alien
was sitting up, her hand still gripping one of the wands, now a
half-melted ruin.
Ashe glanced at them as if for the first time he remembered they might
be there.
"Baldy ship just took off inland," Ross told him. "We didn't see either
of the other Foanna."
"They have gone to do what is to be done," Ashe's companion replied. "So
some of the enemy fled. Well, perhaps they have learned one lesson, not
to meddle with others' devices. Ahh, so much gone which will never come
again! Never again--"
She held up the half-melted wand, turning it back and forth before her,
before she cast it away. It flew out, up, then dropped into the caldron
of the hall which had been. A gust of rain, cold, chilling the lightly
clad Terrans, swept across them.
The Foanna was helped to her feet by Ashe. For a moment she turned
slowly, giving a lingering look to the ruins. Then she spoke: "Broken
stone holds no value. Take hands, my brothers, my sister, it is time we
go hence."
Karara's hand in Ross's right, Ashe's in his left, and both linked to
Ynvalda in turn. Then--they were indeed elsewhere, in a courtyard where
bodies lay flaccid under the drenching downpour of the rain. And moving
among those bodies were the two other Foanna, bending to examine one man
after another. Perhaps over one in three they so inspected they held
consultation before a wand was used in tracing certain portions of the
body between them. When they were finished, that man stirred, moaned,
showed signs of life once more.
"Rosss--!" From behind a tumbled wall crept a Hawaikan who did not wear
the guard armor of the others. Gill-pack, flippers, diver's belt, had
been stripped from him. There was a bleeding gash down the side of his
face, and he held his left arm against his body, supported by his right
hand.
"Baleku!"
The Rover pulled himself up to his feet and stood swaying. Ross reached
him quickly to catch him as he slumped forward.
"Loketh?" the Terran asked.
"The women-killers took him." Somehow the Rover got that out as Ross
half supported, half led him to where the Foanna were gathering those
they had been able to revive. "They wanted to learn"--Baleku was
obviously making a great effort to tell his story--"about ... about
where we came from ... where we got the packs."
"So now they will know of us, or will if they get the story out of
Loketh." Ashe worked with Ross to splint the Rover's broken arm. "How
many of them were here, Baleku?"
The Rover's head moved slowly from side to side. "I do not know in
truth. It is--was--like a dream. I was in the water swimming through the
sea gate. Then suddenly I was in another place where those from the
stars waited about me. They had our packs and belts and these they
showed us, demanding to know whereof these were. Loketh was like one
deep in sleep and they left him so when they questioned me. Then there
came a great noise and the floor under us shook, lightning flashed
through the air. Two of the women-killers ran from the room and all of
them were greatly excited. They took up Loketh and carried him away,
with him the packs and other things. And I was left alone, though I
could not move--as if they had left me in a net I could not see.
"More and more were the flashes. Then one of those slayers of women
stood in the doorway. He raised his hand, and my feet were free, but I
could not move otherwise than to follow after him. We came along a hall
and into this court where men stood unstirring, although stones fell
from the walls upon some of them and the ground shook--"
Baleku's voice grew shriller, his words ran together. "The one who
pulled me after him by his will--he cried out and put his hands to his
head. Back and forth he ran, bumping into the standing men, and once
running into a wall as if he were blinded. And then he was gone and I
was alone. There was more falling stone and one struck my shoulder so I
was thrown to the ground. There I lay until you came."
"So few--out of many so few--" One of the Foanna stood beside them, her
cloak streaming with the falling rain. "And for these"--she faced the
lines of those they had not revived--"there was no chance. They died as
helplessly as if they went into a meeting of swords with their arms
bound to their sides! Evil have we wrought here."
Ashe shook his head. "Evil has been wrought here, Ynlan, but not by your
seeking. And those who died here helplessly may be only a small portion
of those yet to be sacrificed. Have you forgotten the slaughter at Kyn
Add and those other fairings where women and children were also struck
down to serve some purpose we do not even yet know?"
"Lady, Great One--" Baleku struggled to sit up and Ross slipped an arm
behind him in aid. "She for whom I made a bride-cup was meat for them at
Kyn Add, along with many others. If these slayers are not put to the
sword's edge, there will be other fairings so used. And these Shadow
ones possess a magic to draw men to them helplessly to be killed. Great
One, you have powers; all men know that wind and wave obey your call. Do
you now use your magic! It is better to fall with a power we know, than
answer such spells as those killers have netted about the men here!"
"This is one weapon which they shall not use again." Ynvalda rose from a
stone block where she had been sitting. "And perhaps in its way it was
one of the most dangerous. But in defeating it we have by so much
weakened ourselves also. And the strong place of these star men lies not
on the coast, but inland. They will be warned by those who fled this
place. Wind and wave, yes, those have served our purpose in the past.
But now perhaps we have found that which our power will not best!
Only--for this"--her gesture was for the ruins of the citadel and the
dead--"there shall be a payment exacted--to the height of our desire!"
Whether the Foanna did have any control over the storm winds or not, the
present deluge appeared not to accommodate them. The dazed, injured
survivors of the courtyard were brought to shelter in some of the
underground passages.
There appeared to be no other reminders of the Wrecker force which had
earlier besieged the keep than those survivors. But within hours some of
those who had served the Foanna for generations returned. And the Foanna
themselves opened the sea gates so that the Rover cruisers anchored in
the small bay below their ruined walls.
A small force, and one ill-equipped to go up against the Baldies. Some
five star men's bodies had been found in the citadel, but the ship had
gone off to warn their base. To Ross's thinking the advantage still lay
with the invaders.
But the Hawaikans refused to accept the idea that the odds were against
them. As soon as the storm blew out its force Ongal's cruiser headed
northwest to other clan fairings where the Rovers could claim kinship.
And Afrukta sailed on the same errand south. While some of the Wreckers
were released to carry the warning to their lords. Just how great a
force could be gathered through such means and how effective it would
be, was a question to make the Terrans uneasy.
Karara disappeared with the Foanna into the surviving inner
cliff-burrows below the citadel. But Ashe and Ross remained with Torgul
and his officers, striving to bring organization out of the chaos about
them.
"We must know just where their lair lies," Torgul stated the obvious.
"The mountains you believe, and they can fly in sky ships to and from
that point. Well"--he spread out a chart--"here are the mountains on
this island, running so. An army marching hither could be sighted from
sky ships. Also, there are many mountains. Which is the one or ones we
must seek? It may take many tens of days to find that place, while they
will always know where we are, watch us from above, prepare for our
coming--"
Again Ross mentally paid tribute to the Captain's quick grasp of
essentials.
"You have a solution, Captain?" Ashe asked.
"There is the river--here--" Torgul said reflectively. "Perhaps I think
in terms of water because I am a sailor. But here it does run, and for
this far along it our cruisers may ascend." He pointed with his finger
tip. "This lies, however, in Glicmas's land, and he is now the mightiest
of the Wrecker lords, his sword always drawn against us. I do not
believe that we could talk him into----"
"Glicmas!" Ross interrupted. They both looked at him inquiringly, and he
repeated Loketh's story of the Wrecker lord who had had dealings with a
"voice from the mountain" and so gained the wrecking devices to make him
the dominant lord of the district.
"So!" Torgul exclaimed. "That is the evil of this Shadow in the
mountains! No, under those circumstances I do not think we shall talk
Glicmas into furthering any raid against those who have made him great
over his fellows. Rather will he turn against us in their cause."
"And if we do not use the cruisers up the river"--Ashe conned the
map--"then perhaps a small party or parties working overland could
strike the stream here, nearer to the uplands."
Torgul frowned at the map. "I do not think so. Even small parties moving
in that direction would be sighted by Glicmas's people. The more so if
they headed inland. He will not wish to share his secrets with others."
"But, say--a party of Foanna."
The Captain glanced up swiftly to favor Ashe with a keen regard. "Then
he would not dare. No, I am sure he would not dare to interfere. Not yet
has he risen high enough to turn the hook of his sword against them. But
would the Foanna do so?"
"If not the Foanna, then others wearing like robes," Ashe said slowly.
"Others wearing like robes?" repeated Torgul. Now his frown was heavy.
"No man would take on the guise of the Foanna; he would be blasted by
their power for so doing. If the Foanna will lead us in their persons,
then we shall follow gladly, knowing that their magic will be with us."
"There is also this," Ross broke in. "The Baldies have the gill-packs
they took from Baleku and Loketh, and they have Loketh. They will want
to learn more about us. We hoped that the citadel would provide bait to
draw them and it did. That our plan for a trap there was spoiled was ill
fortune. But I am sure that if the Baldies believe we are coming to
them, they will hold off an all-out attack against our march, hoping to
gather us in intact. They'd risk that."
Ashe nodded. "I agree. We are the unknown they must solve now. And this
much I am sure of--the future of this world and her people balances on a
very narrow line of choice. It is my hope that such a choice is still to
be made."
Torgul smiled thinly. "We live in perilous times when the Shades require
our swords to go up against the Shadow!"
18
World in Doubt?
The day was dully overcast as all days had been since they had begun
this sulk-and-march penetration into the mountain territory. Ross could
not accept the idea that the Foanna might actually command wind and
wave, storm and sun, as the Hawaikans firmly believed, but the gloomy
weather _had_ favored them so far. And now they had reached the last
breathing point before they took the plunge into the heart of the enemy
country. About the way in which they were to make that plunge, Ross had
his own plan. One he did not intend to share with either Ashe or Karara.
Though he had had to outline it to the one now waiting here with him.
"This is still your mind, younger brother?"
He did not turn his head to look at the cloaked figure. "It is still my
mind!" Ross could be firm on that point.
The Terran backed out of the vantage place from which he had been
studying the canyonlike valley cupping the Baldy spaceship. Now he got
to his feet and faced Ynlan, his own gray cloak billowing out in the
wind to reveal the Rover scale armor underneath.