The Shadow and Night (106 page)

Even as he spoke, he knew what he heard was not the voice of any man he knew. Indeed, he realized, with a strange and chilling certainty, the voice was not human. It was in one way characterless and neutral, and yet in another it had an extraordinary and unassailable authority.

“You do not know my name.”

Merral's throat was suddenly dry. “I mean,” he said, swallowing nervously, “you, er, are one of my men?”

“One of
your
men? In no sense.”

The words held a rebuke.

“Then who are you?” Merral asked, his hand inching toward his gun. Perhaps, he thought, the enemy was already among them. His fingers closed around the stock. “Who are you?” he repeated.

The voice broke the silence. “Man, you are right to be concerned. I have come as the representative of the King.”

Merral felt that the word
King
reverberated strangely, as if it had its own special resonance.

Before Merral could answer, the voice spoke again. “The King who was, and is, and is to come. The one who was slain as a Lamb and rules as a Lion. Does that answer your question?”

“Yes,” quavered Merral, realizing that whatever this creature was, it was not an enemy. He felt at once relieved, chastened, and terrified. “But—but, who are you?” he asked.

There was another pause. “I am an envoy. I am sent to you from the Highest.”

Suddenly it came to Merral in a flash of comprehension that this had to be the strange being who, only hours before the Gate was destroyed, had appeared to Perena.

“You—you are the one who spoke to Perena Lewitz? the one who warned her about the Gate?”

Slowly, and with only the faintest rustling sound, the dark form seemed to rise up from the ground and stand upright, obscuring the waning stars. Merral peered up at the figure, knowing with a hard certainty that the being that stood before him was gazing down at him with stern, cold, invisible eyes. He suddenly felt small and exposed, as if he were a mouse under an eagle's gaze.

“I did,” the voice said.

Merral sensed, with a deepening fear, the head move as if to stare more closely at him. He cringed.
I ought to thank him. I owe him my life.

“Man, whom do you serve?” the voice asked suddenly, its tone cutting and sharp.

“The King, of course,” Merral answered. “It goes without saying. I bear his badge.”

In the darkness, he reached out to his shoulder and touched the embossed Lamb and Stars emblem on his armored jacket.

The voice spoke again. “Nothing goes without saying. It never did. And least of all now, with the enemy unchained.”

The blackness that marked the figure's head seemed to bend accusingly over him. “So you are his servant?”

“Er, yes. Yes, of course,” Merral answered, shivering and wondering why he sounded so guilty.

“So you obey him in all matters?”

The word
all
seemed somehow to have a universal feel to it, as if there was nothing it did not include. Merral felt a new stab of discomfort, as if somewhere, some raw nerve in his soul was being probed.

“Why, yes,” he answered, desperately wishing that the conversation might move on to other subjects.

“In
all
matters, Man?” Merral found the coolly knowing tone to the voice profoundly unnerving.

“Well, yes . . . ,” Merral answered slowly, aware of something like acid eating into his mind and etching around thoughts of Isabella and Anya.

“So there is nothing that has happened this night of which you are ashamed?”

There was a terrible ring to the words, and Merral quailed at them. He felt as if a spotlight had illuminated the innermost parts of his life.

“Well, I . . . I suppose I may have . . . made an error of judgment.”

The only answer was a strange and terrible silence in which Merral felt he had to speak. “I was confused,” he said, almost spluttering his words, feeling his face flush. “It's, well, been an awful time.
Awful.
”

“Man, did I ask for your excuses?”

“No . . .” Merral fell silent.

“You broke a promise.”

“But that . . . ,” Merral hesitated, feeling transfixed by the invisible gaze of this visitor. “Well, you see, Isabella extracted it from me. . . .”

“And what has that do with breaking a promise?”

“Ah, things have been changing in Ynysmant. It has been very hard.”

There was a heavy silence before the dark figure spoke again.

“I was sent on the basis that you wanted help. Is that still the case?” Now the words seemed to have a ring of impatience in them.

Suddenly, Merral felt a surge of defiance. He had to resist. “I'm sorry,” he said, “but I must say that she manipulated me.”

“Really?” There was a strange weariness in the voice. “Your first ancestor used a similar excuse. In the beginning.”

“Well, I do feel that Isabella—”

“Man, I was sent to deal with Merral D'Avanos. Not any Isabella.”

Merral suddenly felt that being apologetic might be more profitable. This terrible figure had to be placated. “Look, I'm sorry,” he said. “What must I do?”

“Man, you must resolve to repair the wrongs you have done. The commitment you made must stand until it is ended—if it is to be ended—by agreement between you. You must also explain the true situation to the one you lied to and encouraged unfairly. And apologize. And apologizing, I must remind you, is not the same as making excuses.”

It suddenly occurred to Merral that both actions were horribly unattractive. “Look, is this important, I mean, right now?
Really
important?”

There was a sound like an angry intake of breath. “Of course!” The words were charged with displeasure. “Do not add folly to dishonesty. You have invoked the King's help this day of battle because of his covenant agreement with his people. At the heart of all covenants lies obedience and faithfulness. Yet in these last few hours you have despised both of these in your own life.”

From nowhere came the wild thought that he couldn't let Anya go.
I must fight for her.
“But—”

“Enough, Man!” The envoy said, and his dark form loomed over Merral so that the voice almost seemed to buffet him physically. “Choose. If you wish to fight these things in
your
strength, then you may do so.” Merral, pressing himself against the ground, found the pause before the voice spoke again as menacing as any words. “But I warn you, you will not win. Not against these foes.”

Suddenly the voice sounded as if it was retreating into the distance. “Or if you do win, it will be such a victory that men and women will wish until the end of time that you had lost.”

Merral sensed the figure seemed less substantial now, as if it were merely smoke or mist.

“Which will it be, Man?” asked the quieter, fainter voice. He could see a star now where the figure had stood, as if the envoy was fading away.

His mind buffeted by a tumult of emotions, Merral hesitated, unable to choose between his fears and his desires.

“Decide,” the voice said, but now it was a drained echo coming from a vast distance. Where the envoy's figure had been, more and more stars were becoming visible.

Suddenly a great and awful fear came into Merral's mind, a terror of an unspeakable darkness and grief. In the fear, he saw that there was only one way forward.

“Please! I'm sorry. I choose the right way,” he cried, and this time he was aware his contrition was genuine. “I am truly sorry and I repent. I will try to sort out things with Anya and Isabella.”

“Try?” The voice was nearer now and the figure more solid. Stars vanished. “That is inadequate, Man.
Do.
Make things right whatever it costs you. And watch yourself, Merral D'Avanos. The enemy delights in using a man against himself.” The voice seemed to resonate strangely. “He seeks your ruin. For him, there are more satisfying and useful ways for your destruction than fire, sword, or tooth.”

“I can imagine.”

“Imagine?”
The rebuke in the tone was tangible. “Man, I have
seen.
” There was a knife's edge to the words. “I saw Saul, son of Kish, go from mighty warrior over Israel to the haunted wreckage of a man. And many after him. Lesser and greater. I am an envoy and I am a witness.”

Merral, now utterly appalled at the idea that he had tried to withstand this being, felt unable to speak.

“Now listen, Man,” the envoy went on. “We have wasted time. The hour of battle is almost upon you. I am to warn you of the thing on the ship.”

“The dragon thing?”

“That? That is a servant, no more. It is its master you must fear. That is a spirit, released from the utter depths and now housed in a body crafted for it by some of your race.”

“Mine?”

“Yes. But listen. Such beings are powerful and not easily vanquished. They remain linked to their own realm and derive their power from there. Even were that ship to be utterly destroyed, that being would shed its body and persist here as a disembodied form. Your world would not care for that.”

“Like a ghost?”

“Their kind has had that name. And others. To destroy it completely, the link with its realm must first be broken. Then, while it is weakened, you can consign it back to the abyss.”

Merral felt a cold sweat on his forehead. “And how am I to do that?”

“You, and you alone, will enter the ship. You will need courage and arms. Take your gun, a blade, and a charge. I will meet you inside to give you instructions. There, Man, you must fight, and there is no certainty of victory. I do not know the outcome. Only the King does.”

Against the lightening sky, Merral felt that he could make out limbs and a head on the envoy's form.

“I want to know—please—will there be casualties?”

“Man, if you want to battle evil without loss, then evil has already won.”

“I see. I just wanted to know.”

“You have the only guarantees that there are, and those have existed since the founding of the worlds. Have faith in the King, and be true to him and his Word and, in the end, all will be well.”

“In the end, yes. But what about in the meantime?”

“That?
That
is mere curiosity.” There was almost scorn in the words. “Play your part. See, the sun rises.”

The voice had begun to become more distant again. The figure suddenly began to fade away as if it had been merely vapor.

“Merral D'Avanos,” came the whisper, “I trust we will meet in the ship.”

“Wait!” Merral cried, but there was only silence, and he knew he was now alone.

He stared across the lake, his mind reeling both at the contact he had had and the dreadful revelation about his own behavior. He found himself humbly asking God for forgiveness.
How appalling,
he thought in a mood of bitter astonishment
, that I could have ever behaved like that.

Then, suddenly aware that dawn was about to break, Merral forced himself to consider the task ahead. Across the western sky the stars were fading out; in the predawn glow he could make out the difference between the lake and the rough land beyond and see the ship with his naked eye. Looking at his watch, he saw that there was just twenty minutes before the hoverer would start its journey up the lake.

He peered again at the ship through the fieldscope, seeing slightly more details of it now. As he looked at it, he felt that Perena's insight had been right: this could never have been an Assembly ship. Not that all Assembly vessels were beautiful; the
Emilia Kay,
for a start, was hardly stunning, but she had a plain functional harmony that was pleasing. This intruder ship, by contrast, had an unattractiveness that seemed almost to be deliberate.

Realizing that dawn was only minutes away, Merral took off the night goggles and laid them aside. From now on, there would be enough natural light. He turned his gaze back to the ship. With a shock, he realized that something was different. He snatched up the fieldscope to see that around the ship there were creatures moving like ants around a fragment of food. It took him a few seconds to work out exactly what was happening and a few more seconds for the implications to sink in. Above the long black hull, camouflage sheeting was being rolled back, and down on the ground, he could make out creatures working on the supporting frame.

Merral grabbed the microphone, fumbled for the call button, and pressed it.

“Frankie!” he snapped, hearing agitation—if not panic—in his voice. “They are preparing the ship for takeoff. Get the men ready for action. Alert Perena and Zak's team, now!”

“Are you sure, sir?”

“Yes!”

“Okay, will do!”

As Merral turned back to the view of the ship, he could hear orders being given. Desperately, he tried to weigh his limited options. Was he to wait for the diplomatic team? Or should they launch their attack now? It was a complication he had not envisaged.

He looked across again to the intruder vessel, hoping against hope that he had been mistaken. Yet, in the growing light, there could be no doubt that they were indeed removing the camouflage. As he watched, Merral noted that the tall, dark ape-creatures were doing most of the lifting with their long forelimbs, while the smaller cockroach-beasts scurried around at their feet, apparently working on lesser tasks. The shapes and characteristic movements of the two intruder types dug up hateful memories to Merral that he tried to suppress.

There was a bleep from beside him and he picked up the handset.

He could hear Frankie breathing heavily. “We are now ready, sir. I guess we can launch within seconds.”

“Okay. I don't think they are going to leave just yet. There is still work to do. But it definitely looks like they are getting ready to move. I'll get on board as you come past.”