The Shadow and Night (113 page)

Merral tried to suppress his terror.
I must do what I have to do.

The steersman moved its fingers, and the sound was like the rustling of dead leaves. Without warning, the creature spoke into his mind.

Ringell . . . Ringell . . . they brought you back?

The words were as clear as if they had been spoken, but he knew the jaws of the steersman had not moved.

Merral said nothing but slipped the explosive charge off his belt and felt for the protective wrapping on its back.
I have a task to do, a part to play.

But you are not Ringell, are you? I was misled.

Forcing himself to concentrate, Merral tore off the wrapping on the red package so the adhesive patch faced toward the column surface. There seemed to be a battle going on in his mind. Light and darkness strove against each other like the interplay of sunlight and shadows as clouds raced over a field. One second, Merral wanted to flee, and the next his desire was to complete his task.

I am the king,
said the voice in his mind.
Stop! Obey me!

“No, you're not,” Merral said aloud. “The Assembly stands and her Lord reigns.”

Fool! Both the Assembly and her King have forsaken you. I am your king now. Leave while you can.

“Go away,” Merral said aloud. “I have a task to do, a part to play.”

He pressed the charge against the column, feeling a slight and tingling vibration under his fingertips as the inter-molecular cement bonded. Three seconds would do it.

One, two, three.

Stop! You cannot win! Your isolation is over; the breach in the barrier remains. There will be others who will come in vast ships of unimaginable power. And we will come with them.

“I have a task to do, a part to play,” Merral repeated. His stumbling fingers found the protective film over the trigger and he tore it off.

One by one your cozy little worlds will fall. Like leaves in autumn. We will start with Farholme.

Merral found the safety pin, pulled it out, and threw it away into the chill mist at his feet.

We will strip the flesh from your people, turn them against each other, and damn their little souls.

Merral's fingers looped around the firing cord. The words sang in his mind:
I have a task to do, a part to play.

We will win. We are your inheritors. The uniting of the realms will take place. The end of the Assembly has come.

A task to do, a part to play . . .

Merral pulled the cord.

Nothing happened, and he stared dully at the package, expecting at least some flashing light to tell him the fuse had been ignited.

It's a chemical fuse.
He turned and started to run back to the door of the chamber the way he had come. A sixty-second fuse . . . I should have counted.

As he raced to the door, the mist parted around him. It seemed thinner now.

The dragon must be just ahead of me.
He ran to one side to avoid treading on the body.

Nearly there.
Merral glimpsed the tail in the mist at his feet. He stepped over it.

“Look out!” the envoy shouted.

The tail lashed out and snagged his ankle. Merral stumbled and lurched painfully into the nearest structure. He slid to the ground.

Stunned, he lay there for a second before he realized his danger.

I must get up.
He pulled his foot free and staggered back to his feet.

He ran on and lunged through the open doorway into the compartment. He turned, tore at the handle with clumsy fingers, and swung it upward. As the door began sliding down, Merral collapsed backward against the wall and slithered down to the floor.

With what seemed an appalling slowness, the door moved down.

“Come on!” he shouted.

The door began to seat itself into the slot in the floor.

A dazzling flash of white lightning shot under it.

There was a stunning clap of noise, and the whole ship seemed to vibrate. Merral felt things strike the compartment door and slide down. The lights failed and then with a few blinks came back on again.

As the echoes of the blast died away, he rose to his feet. His ears were ringing; he was shivering with cold and ached all over.

“You should have come back well away from the winged creature,” said the envoy. Merral tried one more time to see him, but as ever, he was no more than a shadow on the periphery of his vision.
Like an optical illusion: present, but not present.

“Yes,” Merral admitted. “I assumed it was dead.”

“It was, but beings such as your enemy can manipulate the dead.”

“I see.”

“Now, you have one last task.”

For a moment, Merral wondered whether to refuse. As he hesitated, he noticed that on his gun the status light now glowed green. He glanced at his belt and saw that his diary was working.

“Okay,” he said, aware of the weariness in his voice. “What do I have to do now?”

“You must return and slay the being. Even that blast only stunned it and stripped its body of its protection. Unless you destroy it, it will soon pass into an invisible spirit form. You must use your knife. But be careful.”

Merral closed his eyes.
I have come so far. I suppose I must go on.
“Very well,” he said.

Once more, he found the door handle and pulled down.

43

W
ith a series of creaks, the door slid open slowly, letting in a wreath of hot, foul smoke. Waving his arms to try and dispel the fumes, Merral stepped carefully over the wreckage by the door. He was surprised to find that the chamber was now much better illuminated; the strange lights had gone, and along either side of the roof, strip lights had now come on. The mist had fled and the temperature seemed warmer.

The chamber had been devastated. Almost all the structures in the room had been badly damaged. Paneling hung from the walls, doors of lockers swung open, blackened cabinets were tilted and twisted, and the floor was covered by every kind of debris.

Merral walked forward, stepping carefully around the fragments. The corpse of the dragon could not be seen and he did not seek it. He walked toward the shattered column, aware of the envoy following noiselessly behind him. Even with the gloom lifted, Merral had no desire to linger here; he wanted to be out of the ship and back with his men.

Something white on the floor caught Merral's attention. He shuddered to see that it was the limb bone of some creature. Looking around, he saw there were other bones lying about. Were these the remains of things the dragon had eaten, or had they been used in some dreadful rite? He didn't wish to know and kept moving on.

He found the steersman by the broken metal shards of the column. It was lying sprawled over the remains of the seat, its limbs extended in impossible directions. As Merral approached, he saw it move. As he stared, he was astonished to find that the motion came not from the body, but within it. The pale brown surface seemed to ripple as if an invisible hand was moving matter from one place to another. As Merral watched, he saw the spindly legs shorten and solidify.

“Quickly!” urged the envoy. “Slay it.”

But Merral felt reluctant to act. The spectacle unfolding before him was so astonishing that he felt he had to watch.

The movement within the steersman had now shifted to the body: the cavernous abdomen seemed to enlarge and become smoother, as if being inflated, and the skin became softer and lost its dried-parchment look. The creature gave a little lurch and slipped against the ruined chair so that it now sat facing Merral in a broken-necked way.

“Man,” came the urgent order, “strike!”

“I will,” Merral said as he stared in wonder at what was happening, and he moved his fingers to the handle of the bush knife. But he did no more than that.

Before him, the chest of the steersman was changing in the same way that the legs and abdomen had, becoming smoother and more rounded. The movement shifted to the arms and fingers, and wrists were fleshed out.

Now the neck moved and the head twisted forward. Eyelids extended over the cavernous sockets, cheeks filled out, eyebrows grew. A nose suddenly bulged outwards as if molded by an invisible sculptor, and the dry brown lips became a soft and healthy pink.

“Strike!” the envoy ordered.

Impressed by the urgency in his voice, Merral pressed the button on the handle and the blade raced out. He raised the knife and squinted, aiming for the neck.

The lips moved.

“You have won,” the creature said.

Staring at the being that was forming in front of his eyes, Merral relaxed his grip.

“No! Wait!” The voice was human; the words were ragged as if it was still learning to speak.

Merral lowered the blade.

“It was a mistake to come here,” the thing said in contrite, apologetic tones. Its words were smoother now, as if the mouth and lips had learned to move in coordination. “You may exact your price from me. As in the old fables.”

Memories arose in Merral's mind of the primeval fairy tales of his childhood with their fantastic goblins and sorcerers. The creature shivered, and with a ripple the flesh on the face seemed abruptly to slide into place as if it were a garment that was being adjusted.

“Name anything,” the creature continued, almost pathetically. “What do you want?”

Merral, conscious of the dull, gray, metal blade held in his hand, found himself torn. He wanted to end this horrid thing's existence, and he yearned to hear more. He hesitated, and its form changed further; tissue flowed miraculously from one place to another, and the pale brown skin became softer, paler, and more alive.

Merral glimpsed the dried blood on his sleeve: Lorrin's blood.

A deep anger bubbled up in him. “Thing!” he shouted, his voice unsteady with rage. “The Gate is gone! We are cut off from the Assembly. Everything is—” Emotion choked his words. In his mind, he could see Anya and others: Isabella, Barrand, and Elana. And poor dead Lorrin. “Everything is . . . is rotten!”

“I apologize,” came the cool answer. “But you know, these things can be undone.”

Merral watched as the creature flexed smooth fingers.

“Undone?”

A golden fuzz of hair was extruding from the skull.

“Strike!” ordered the envoy again, but although Merral tightened the grip of his fingers around the handle, the blade did not move.

“Wait! Please.” It was both an order and a plea. New changes flitted across the face. “This voice,” the creature asked him, “the one you are listening to. Tell me, please, what do you know of it?”

“I trust him and I have seen what you look like.”

“You have been misled by appearances,” reasoned the smooth voice. “And after all, you have not seen him. How do you know what he looks like? No, he wants you locked here on Farholme forever. If you strike me, you will lose all hope of traveling back to the Assembly. And without help, your tiny world will never survive in isolation.” There was a pause. First one, then both ears sprouted. “Spare me and we will leave your system, and I will give you the secret you want. Of finding help and getting back. I will give you this ship. I am a steersman.”

“Strike, Man! Before it is too late!”

“Oh, Merral,” the creature said, its voice now gentle, even humorous. “He just wants to stop you from learning knowledge.”

Merral stared at the creature. It was a young man—no, he realized with a mixture of emotions—it was a young woman. The face was shy and graceful and had wide, dark brown eyes. The hair, still growing, was framing the face.

Smooth, pale red lips parted gently in speech. “Merral, this envoy thing is a spoiler. He is himself fleshless, and thus he hates everything associated with life. But then, you know that, don't you?”

The tone was amused, intelligent, and sensible. To his utter amazement, Merral realized how much sense the thing was making.
No, it is not a thing, it is a person—a she.

The long legs now locked themselves under her body so she seemed to sit cross-legged. The face looked up demurely at Merral as if expecting him to automatically acknowledge the truth of what she said. There were faint flickers of motion along her back as if some invisible sculptor was putting the final touches to his creation. Her hands, finely nailed, came up in a gesture of helplessness and embarrassment over her nakedness. Merral was almost overwhelmed by the vulnerability of this girl.

“You know, he wants to stop your enjoyment,” she said, her tone at once wise and sympathetic. She shook her golden hair and it caught the light. “To stop you from doing what is your right. After all, this is
your
planet. Not his.” She smiled at him and he felt his heart tremble. “Look, let me help you rebuild your world. I will gladly serve you. Help you in every way.” She smiled with a happy innocence. “We can do things. Together.”