The sky that had been so bright was now
overcast. Though it was summer a chill breeze blew, bringing with
it a faint, sickening scent as if it passed over some source of
stale corruption. Rita ran easily wherever the ground was clear
enough to allow it. But Nick felt the effects of what he had faced
in the city and would have lagged behind, in spite of his efforts,
had not her hold on him lent that energy of hers.
He could see ahead the rolling hills among which was the cave.
And there darkness gathered, clouds massed. While the air was
alive, not with saucers, but rather things that flew with flapping
wings, some feathered, some of stretched skin. There was movement
on the ground, also, though Nick could not be sure of what or who
caused that for it did not show clearly.
Yet Rita took no care in her going, as if no hint of ambush
concerned her. She was as impervious in her attitude as the Herald
had been when under attack from the saucer.
Before they reached the approach to the cave entrance she slowed
to a halt. About them now, though Nick could see very little, he
was aware of that same miasma of evil he had felt on the night he
had been captive. A black-winged bird, with eyes of glowing red,
blazing points of fire set in a feathered skull, planed down
straight for them, uttering a piercing cry. Nick’s free hand
went to his belt, drew the dagger.
The bird, with a second scream, sheered away. And there was a
small sound from Rita.
“Iron!” She pulled a little away though she did not
drop his hand. “Keep that from me—you must! It will serve
you, but to the Kin it is deadly.”
In this dusk, which was increasing abnormally fast, her body
showed the radiance he had seen before, her eyes were bright. There
was an excitement about her as if just ahead lay an ordeal.
But he could also see that the ground, the bushes, around them
were astir. Things peered at them in menace, yet did not make the
attack Nick braced himself to meet. Rita still moved forward, now
at a walking pace. There was a breathless quiet about them that
those skulking around did not break. Were they real, or illusions?
And if illusions, fostered by what enemy?
Ringing them around, moving with them as they advanced, were
dwarfs. They were squat of body, furred with gray hair. They turned
faces grotesquely human, yet so malignant of aspect as to be
weapons in themselves, toward those they escorted, showing teeth
that were those of carnivorous beasts in frog-wide mouths, which
they opened and shut as if they spoke, or shouted, yet there was no
sound.
Behind these stalked others man-tall, specter thin, their limbs
mere bones covered with dry and dusty skin, their hairless heads
skulls. Moldy tatters clung to them; they moved stiffly yet at
surprising speed.
There were other things—some that might have been wolves yet had
an obscene humanity about them, reptile forms, giant spiders—all
things that might have haunted the nightmares of generations were
here given form. But these were only the fringes of the company.
And suddenly the air was split with shouts, arrows sang.
“Hurry now!” Rita cried, “I cannot hold double
protection long.”
Then Nick saw that the radiance from her body had spread to
enclose him. Against that the arrows dashed, to fall. He heard more
confused shouting. Other forms rushed at them, shrank from the
bright mist.
There followed what could only be the crack of a rifle. Nick
involuntarily ducked, but did not reach the ground as Rita’s
hold on him dragged him up and on. The mist was thickening but he
was sure he could see through it men in black uniforms. They must
be passing through a small army.
Evil it was, the loathsome scent the breeze had earlier hinted
at was sickeningly strong. It formed a choking reek. But Nick could
see dimly the rocks that were the outer guard of the cave.
There came the sudden chatter of a machine gun. On either side,
as the besiegers reluctantly parted to let them pass, men fell. A
machine gun! Where had the English obtained that?
“On!” Rita sounded breathless.
They scrambled among the rocks, up to the higher entrance. The
rattle of gunfire was now constant, deafening—Perhaps it was
turned on them. Nick did not know. But at least nothing penetrated
the barrier Rita held. Though he could see that it was
thinning.
With a last effort they tumbled into the hollow of the sentry
post. The radiance dimmed. A man arose before Nick, aimed at him
point-blank with a handgun.
“Illusion!” Rita cried. “It is an
illusion!”
Real! The death before him was real!
“No!”
Nick thought to feel the impact of the bullet, but that did not
follow. The man swung away from him as if he no longer existed. He
was a stranger in battle dress. There were three defenders with a
machine gun, aiming and firing at the Dark Ones. Nick stumbled
after Rita, down into the cave.
“You!”
They were all there, even Stroud, though the Warden lay upon the
floor, his coverall marked with dark stains. The rest stood as
might those determined to fight to the end, meeting death but not
capture.
It was Crocker who had cried out, his voice echoing through the
cave. For the clatter of gunfire was now gone. Jean caught at the
pilot’s arm as he faced Rita, his eyes wide, his hand holding
one of the daggers. He might have been warding off attack, though
Rita had not moved. The glow about her was only a lingering
glimmer.
“No!” That was Jean. “The gun—we have to keep
the gun—”
Out of the shadows pranced Lung, heading straight to Rita. He
leaped and barked before her, trying with all his might to gain her
attention. If the others had no welcome, it was plain the Peke did
not agree. His joy at her coming was manifest.
“Get out of here!” Crocker shook off Jean, moved
toward Rita, the knife out.
“Stop, Barry.” The Vicar stepped between. He looked
to Rita, not the pilot. “Why do you come?”
“Do you not remember that I was once one of you? Should I
not try to aid you now? You have done that which has brought the
Dark Ones; you have dabbled in things you do not understand, to
your own undoing.”
“She’s one of them! She wants to get at us!”
Crocker pushed against Hadlett, but as if he did not quite dare to
set the Vicar aside.
“I am of Avalon,” she replied. Once more her
features were composed, she looked as emotionless as the Herald.
“But you have opened gates, which are of the Dark Side, and
you have not that in you which can close them again. You have used
powers and you have no defense—”
“And while we talk here,” that was Lady
Diana, “those out there will attack. We have to
hold—”
“Your illusion?” Rita interrupted. “But that,
which you strive against, is no illusion. Do you not understand? We
of the Kin have our enemies. You have raised those. But you have
not our weapons to defeat them. Look upon you—do you not already
weary? It drains the energy to build an illusion. Granted that you
now unite to do this and with some success—but how long can you
continue? For those without are not bound by time, nor the
frailties of bodies such as yours. They can wait and wait until you
are brought down by your own lack of strength. And I say to
you—better that you be dead than alive at the moment they overrun
you.
“This is the beginning of the time of the Running Dark.
From all the places of evil will come forth that which has been
lurking there. Those it enspells become wholly its creatures.
Others seek to run before it—those you have seen. And in the end it
will be little better for them, for the sky hunters will take
them.
“But to you have come the Dark Ones ahead of time. Avalon
will not protect you, for you have refused its freedom. Put your
iron to your throats, but even so there are those who can pour into
your bodies, inhabit them, use them as clothing—”
“As you use Rita’s?” Crocker’s eyes were
fires of fury.
“I am Rita. I am more Rita than I ever was before
I accepted the freedom. Then I was as one asleep and dreaming, now
I am awake—alive! Yes, I am Rita, though you will not believe it. I
think that you cannot, for there is that in you which wants me to
be the lesser. Is that not so?
“This day I have said to him who came with me that I was
still heart-tied to you. Perhaps that was true—once. When I came to
you before, my once dear friends, after my change, it was as a
beggar, asking for your alms. But in that I erred. For what have
you to give me now?”
“Perhaps nothing.” Hadlett, not the pilot, answered
her.
She laughed. “How well you sum it up. Still—there are
those here—” Rita glanced from one to the next. “You
have such courage, even if it is wrongly rooted. I know you all
well, even these two new ones come into your company. And, though
you may not believe it, I wish you well. What I can do for you,
that I will. But I warn you—it can be but little. You have not the
freedom. And what you have provoked is very strong.”
“It was Avalon who gave me the first hint of using the
mind power.” Nick spoke for the first time. “If this
was such a wrong thing, then why did he do it?”
He thought Rita looked a little shaken. “I do not know.
The Heralds have their purposes under the King. This is a change
time—”
“So,” the Vicar said, “a time of alteration
may bring things out of custom to pass? Logos once more faces
Chaos. And you say that our strength will not hold to protect
us?”
Rita shook her head. “It cannot. We with the freedom draw
from Avalon itself. Look—it can be thus with us.” She stooped
to set her hand to the floor. Under her touch the rock crumbled,
leaving the imprint of her fingers. “That is no illusion, set
your hand within if you do not believe me. But its like you cannot
do, for your gift is small. Unite if you will, as you have, and
there is still a limit, for the land will not nourish
you.”
Lung who had been crouched at her feet, leaped up again, and she
smiled at his exuberance, laid her hand on his head, while from the
shadows sped Jeremiah, wreathing about her ankles, purring so
loudly they could hear. And for the cat, also, Rita had a touch.
When she raised her head there was a faint trouble on her face.
“Some can accept freedom, others choose their chains. Why
is it so?”
“Because,” Crocker burst out, “we are
ourselves! We don’t want to be changed into—into—”
“Into what I am? But what then am I, Barry?”
“I don’t know. Except that you are not Rita. And
that I hate you for what you have done to her!”
“But I am Rita, the whole Rita. Fear walks with hate. You
hate because you fear.”
Nick saw Crocker’s face go tight. A man might look so when
he killed.
“You see?” Rita spoke to Hadlett. “His mind is
closed because he wills it so. We build our own walls about us.
What is your wall, Vicar?”
“My faith, Rita. I have lived with it as part of me all my
life. I am a priest of my faith. As such I cannot betray
it.”
She bowed her head. “You are blind, but your choice by
your own standard is just. And you, Lady Diana?”
“Perhaps I can also say it is faith—faith in the past, in
what made up my life—” She spoke slowly as if seeking the
right words.
“So be it. And you, Jean? Yes, I can understand what ties
you to danger and darkness.”
The other girl flushed, her mouth twisted angrily. But she did
not speak, only moved a fraction closer to Crocker.
“Mrs. Clapp, then?” Rita continued. It was as if she
must force a final denial from each and every one of them in
turn.
“Well—perhaps it’s because I’ve been a
churchgoin’ body all m’life. If the Vicar thinks this
is wrong—then I’ll abide by what he says.”
“And you, Warden?”
“It’s like Lady Diana said—you make your choice
’bout who you stand with. That’s good enough for
me.”
“And you?” Rita turned now to Linda.
“If one chooses Avalon, is there any chance of returning
to one’s own time and world?” the American girl
asked.
“That I do not know. But I believe that the will to remain
will be stronger than the will to return. For one becomes a part of
Avalon.”
“Then I guess it will be ‘no’! But has Lung
chosen?” Linda’s eyes were now on the dog crouched at
Rita’s feet.
“Ask.”
“Lung—Lung—” Linda called softly. The Peke looked at
her and came, moving slowly, but he came.
“They have their loyalty also,” Rita said.
“He will stay with you because he is heart-tied. Even as
Jeremiah will share what comes to you, Maude Clapp.”
She was going to ask him now. Nick braced himself, because he
knew what he would answer and what would come of it. Why must he
take on this burden? He had no heart-ties, as Rita called them, yet
he must go against all his inclinations, and for no reason he could
put into words.
“I stay,” he said before she could ask. Rita was
frowning. “For you it is not the same. You say the words but
something more may come of this. We shall see. However, in this
much shall I aid you all now. That which waits without is but the
first wave of what comes. Use your will with mine and I shall set a
barrier—to hold for a little.”
“We want nothing from you!” Crocker flared.
“Barry, this is for all to decide,” the Vicar said.
“I think, Rita, you mean this for our good. What say the
rest?”
Crocker and Jean shook their heads, but the others nodded in
agreement. So having decided, they linked their power, standing
within the cave, not knowing what it wrought outside, but feeling,
too, the fierce surge of energy from Rita.
“This will not hold. It will only afford you a brief
respite.”
“For as much as you have given us, we thank you,”
Hadlett answered. “And, my child, we wish you
well.”
Rita raised her hand and traced a design in the air that
remained there for an instant, written in pale blue fire—the
ankh.
“I wish you—peace. And that none may trouble you
thereafter.”
Once more she wept, tears on her white cheeks. Then she turned
and went from them, the shining envelope of radiance closing about
her so they could not see how she disappeared.
“She wished us death!” Jean exploded. “You
know that, don’t you—she meant that by her
‘peace’—death!”
“She wished us the best she could foresee for us.”
Hadlett’s voice was very tired. “I believe she spoke
the truth.”
“Yes,” Lady Diana agreed heavily. She did not add to
that but went to stand by the fire, staring into it.
But Linda came to Nick. “There can be a way back—”
she told him, an eager note in her voice.
“Back where?” He was hardly aware of her.
“Back to our own world.”
“How do you mean?” She had his attention now.
“If we can only get out of here—back to where we came in.
Once there, why can’t we make a door and go through? If we
could make soldiers and a machine gun, as we did”—she waved
to the cave entrance—“then we ought to be able to get back by
willing hard enough—all of us together. Don’t you see? It
could work—it has to!” She ended as vehemently as if at that
moment she could see such a door, the safe past behind it.
“Even if it would work,” Nick countered, “how
are we going to get back to the forest to try? If we leave here—do
you realize what is waiting out there? We couldn’t fight our
way across country—not with those things waiting for us!”
“We can”—she was stubborn—“use illusions.
Don’t you see—it is all we can do.”
“What is the only thing we can do?” Jean’s
voice, hostile in tone, cut in.
“We have to try to get back to our own world. I was
telling Nick—we can do it! If we go back to where we first came
through—to where the jeep is—then make a door—we can go through!
It’s a way we’ll have to try. Don’t you see, we
have to!”
Her excitement grew as she talked. That she was wrong, Nick was
convinced. But to his surprise he saw an answering spark arise in
Jean.
“If it would work—” The English girl drew a long
breath. “Yes, if that worked and he—we—could be free of
everything here! It would be wonderful! That forest is a long way
from here and with all that out there—”
“We’ve just got to try,” Linda urged.
“She—Rita—you heard what she said about worse coming. If we
stay here we’re caught. But if we can make it
back—”
“Can’t do it.” Crocker had been drawn to their
group. “If the country was free, yes, it would be worth a
try. But we can’t fight our way through now.”
“So we just stay here”—Linda rounded on
him—“and wait to be caught by those horrors? Is that what you
want? There ought to be some way we can get through.”
She looked eagerly from one to another. Perhaps in Jean she
still had an ally, but Nick knew how impossible such a trek would
be. He had come cross-country under Rita’s protection and he
had a very good idea that had it not been for that he would not
have lasted long no matter how stiff a fight he had put up. With
Mrs. Clapp, the Vicar, the wounded Stroud, to slow them, they would
not have a chance.
“We have to get back,” Linda repeated. “I—I
don’t want to die. And you were right, Jean. Rita wished us
to die there at the last. She—the People won’t do any more to
help us. We’ll have to help ourselves and the only way is to
get back to our own world. Maybe—maybe you don’t have to go
to the place you came through after all. Maybe we could make a gate
right here!” Her words came faster and faster.
Nick walked away. He was tired with a weariness that weighed on
him like a heavy burden. He did not believe that Linda’s
suggestion had any hope of realization. And he was too worn out to
argue about it. He sat down on the floor and was only aware of Mrs.
Clapp when she handed him one of the wooden bowls that held some
liquid with a sharp scent.
“Get that down you, lad. It’ll perk you up.
An’ I want you to tell me somethin’ true—no fancying it
up because I’m an old woman as should be told only good
things. I’m old enough to know that there are some things
that have no good in ’em at all. Those are made for our
bearin’ when the time comes. Do you think there is anything
we can do—you have been out an’ seen it all—to help
ourselves?”
Nick sipped the drink. It was slightly bitter, which was in
keeping with the situation at hand. But as it slid down his throat
it brought warmth—though it did nothing to banish the inner cold
rooted in his mind and body.
“I don’t think there is any more we can do than has
been done. She said that the Dark Powers can draw men to help them.
And I saw some out there that might be such. I don’t know how
long the barrier will last.”
She nodded. “It is not what you’ve said, but all
you’ve not. Well, there were the good years. But you young
ones—it would be fairer to you if you had had longer. I wish
Jeremiah had gone with her, an’ the little dog, too.
It’s not right that good beasts have to be with us.”
She sighed and took the empty bowl he handed to her.
Nick longed to go and stretch himself out on his scanty bed. But
who knew when the protection Rita had raised would fail? It might
be well to check on what was happening out there.
He dragged himself to his feet and went to the entrance, pulling
up to the sentry station. No phantom machine gun was there now.
But before him, about five feet away, a shimmering cloud, very
visible in the gloom, made a curtain. If anything moved beyond he
could not see.
Not that he doubted they were still there. And there they would
wait until the curtain failed. When that happened—illusions that
could not be held and—
Nick put his arm across a rock, laid his head on it, and closed
his eyes. But he could not close out his thoughts. Rita and the
Herald were right; these stubborn English, he, Linda, were throwing
away life for nothing. He did not believe that Avalon was evil.
The power radiating from the ankh in the city had nearly killed
him. But there was nothing of evil in it. It was only that he, as
he now was, was too frail, too flawed a thing to hold such
energy.
Now the Dark Tide swept the land. Only in the city, in those
places with the freedom of Avalon, would there be light. And those
who did not accept the light opened a door to the Dark. They had
tried to use the gift of the light to their own purpose, and, in
that, Rita said they brought worse upon themselves.
But why had Avalon, the Herald, given Nick the hint that had led
him to the discovery of the power? Certainly there was a purpose in
that, a test, perhaps—wherein he had failed by the way he had made
use of his discovery. It could well be.
In any event he would now have to face what lay before him and
make the best of it. Perhaps Rita was also right in wishing them a
swift death as the best she could offer.
Nick thought about death. Was it an end or a beginning? No one
knew, only hoped for the best with the part of him that feared
absolute extinction above all else. Death could be peace, in such a
land as this.
“Nicholas—”
He raised his head. By the glow of the wall he could see
Hadlett, though he could not read the Vicar’s expression.
“Yes, sir?”
“You were in the city, Sam told us. What is it like
there?”
Wearily Nick spoke of the walls and streets, of those doors with
their pictures that came alive at the touch, and, finally, of the
great ankh and the energy that could slay when one was unprepared
to face its force.
“The looped cross,” said the Vicar. “Yes, the
key to eternity, as the Egyptians called it when they put it into
the hands of their gods. A source of energy that only those who
have surrendered to it can absorb.”
“They are not evil,” Nick returned. “I have
seen evil and it does not lie in the city.”
“No. It is not evil, yet it demands the surrender of
one’s will, of what one is.”
“As is also demanded by our own way of worship.”
Nick did not know from where he had those words.
“But that is an older way, from which we turned long ago.
To surrender again to its power, Nicholas, is to betray all our own
beliefs.”
“Or to discover that there is only one source after all,
but from it many rivers—” Again Nick was not aware of his
words until he uttered them.
“What did you say?” Hadlett’s tone was sharp,
fiercely demanding.
The sky that had been so bright was now
overcast. Though it was summer a chill breeze blew, bringing with
it a faint, sickening scent as if it passed over some source of
stale corruption. Rita ran easily wherever the ground was clear
enough to allow it. But Nick felt the effects of what he had faced
in the city and would have lagged behind, in spite of his efforts,
had not her hold on him lent that energy of hers.
He could see ahead the rolling hills among which was the cave.
And there darkness gathered, clouds massed. While the air was
alive, not with saucers, but rather things that flew with flapping
wings, some feathered, some of stretched skin. There was movement
on the ground, also, though Nick could not be sure of what or who
caused that for it did not show clearly.
Yet Rita took no care in her going, as if no hint of ambush
concerned her. She was as impervious in her attitude as the Herald
had been when under attack from the saucer.
Before they reached the approach to the cave entrance she slowed
to a halt. About them now, though Nick could see very little, he
was aware of that same miasma of evil he had felt on the night he
had been captive. A black-winged bird, with eyes of glowing red,
blazing points of fire set in a feathered skull, planed down
straight for them, uttering a piercing cry. Nick’s free hand
went to his belt, drew the dagger.
The bird, with a second scream, sheered away. And there was a
small sound from Rita.
“Iron!” She pulled a little away though she did not
drop his hand. “Keep that from me—you must! It will serve
you, but to the Kin it is deadly.”
In this dusk, which was increasing abnormally fast, her body
showed the radiance he had seen before, her eyes were bright. There
was an excitement about her as if just ahead lay an ordeal.
But he could also see that the ground, the bushes, around them
were astir. Things peered at them in menace, yet did not make the
attack Nick braced himself to meet. Rita still moved forward, now
at a walking pace. There was a breathless quiet about them that
those skulking around did not break. Were they real, or illusions?
And if illusions, fostered by what enemy?
Ringing them around, moving with them as they advanced, were
dwarfs. They were squat of body, furred with gray hair. They turned
faces grotesquely human, yet so malignant of aspect as to be
weapons in themselves, toward those they escorted, showing teeth
that were those of carnivorous beasts in frog-wide mouths, which
they opened and shut as if they spoke, or shouted, yet there was no
sound.
Behind these stalked others man-tall, specter thin, their limbs
mere bones covered with dry and dusty skin, their hairless heads
skulls. Moldy tatters clung to them; they moved stiffly yet at
surprising speed.
There were other things—some that might have been wolves yet had
an obscene humanity about them, reptile forms, giant spiders—all
things that might have haunted the nightmares of generations were
here given form. But these were only the fringes of the company.
And suddenly the air was split with shouts, arrows sang.
“Hurry now!” Rita cried, “I cannot hold double
protection long.”
Then Nick saw that the radiance from her body had spread to
enclose him. Against that the arrows dashed, to fall. He heard more
confused shouting. Other forms rushed at them, shrank from the
bright mist.
There followed what could only be the crack of a rifle. Nick
involuntarily ducked, but did not reach the ground as Rita’s
hold on him dragged him up and on. The mist was thickening but he
was sure he could see through it men in black uniforms. They must
be passing through a small army.
Evil it was, the loathsome scent the breeze had earlier hinted
at was sickeningly strong. It formed a choking reek. But Nick could
see dimly the rocks that were the outer guard of the cave.
There came the sudden chatter of a machine gun. On either side,
as the besiegers reluctantly parted to let them pass, men fell. A
machine gun! Where had the English obtained that?
“On!” Rita sounded breathless.
They scrambled among the rocks, up to the higher entrance. The
rattle of gunfire was now constant, deafening—Perhaps it was
turned on them. Nick did not know. But at least nothing penetrated
the barrier Rita held. Though he could see that it was
thinning.
With a last effort they tumbled into the hollow of the sentry
post. The radiance dimmed. A man arose before Nick, aimed at him
point-blank with a handgun.
“Illusion!” Rita cried. “It is an
illusion!”
Real! The death before him was real!
“No!”
Nick thought to feel the impact of the bullet, but that did not
follow. The man swung away from him as if he no longer existed. He
was a stranger in battle dress. There were three defenders with a
machine gun, aiming and firing at the Dark Ones. Nick stumbled
after Rita, down into the cave.
“You!”
They were all there, even Stroud, though the Warden lay upon the
floor, his coverall marked with dark stains. The rest stood as
might those determined to fight to the end, meeting death but not
capture.
It was Crocker who had cried out, his voice echoing through the
cave. For the clatter of gunfire was now gone. Jean caught at the
pilot’s arm as he faced Rita, his eyes wide, his hand holding
one of the daggers. He might have been warding off attack, though
Rita had not moved. The glow about her was only a lingering
glimmer.
“No!” That was Jean. “The gun—we have to keep
the gun—”
Out of the shadows pranced Lung, heading straight to Rita. He
leaped and barked before her, trying with all his might to gain her
attention. If the others had no welcome, it was plain the Peke did
not agree. His joy at her coming was manifest.
“Get out of here!” Crocker shook off Jean, moved
toward Rita, the knife out.
“Stop, Barry.” The Vicar stepped between. He looked
to Rita, not the pilot. “Why do you come?”
“Do you not remember that I was once one of you? Should I
not try to aid you now? You have done that which has brought the
Dark Ones; you have dabbled in things you do not understand, to
your own undoing.”
“She’s one of them! She wants to get at us!”
Crocker pushed against Hadlett, but as if he did not quite dare to
set the Vicar aside.
“I am of Avalon,” she replied. Once more her
features were composed, she looked as emotionless as the Herald.
“But you have opened gates, which are of the Dark Side, and
you have not that in you which can close them again. You have used
powers and you have no defense—”
“And while we talk here,” that was Lady
Diana, “those out there will attack. We have to
hold—”
“Your illusion?” Rita interrupted. “But that,
which you strive against, is no illusion. Do you not understand? We
of the Kin have our enemies. You have raised those. But you have
not our weapons to defeat them. Look upon you—do you not already
weary? It drains the energy to build an illusion. Granted that you
now unite to do this and with some success—but how long can you
continue? For those without are not bound by time, nor the
frailties of bodies such as yours. They can wait and wait until you
are brought down by your own lack of strength. And I say to
you—better that you be dead than alive at the moment they overrun
you.
“This is the beginning of the time of the Running Dark.
From all the places of evil will come forth that which has been
lurking there. Those it enspells become wholly its creatures.
Others seek to run before it—those you have seen. And in the end it
will be little better for them, for the sky hunters will take
them.
“But to you have come the Dark Ones ahead of time. Avalon
will not protect you, for you have refused its freedom. Put your
iron to your throats, but even so there are those who can pour into
your bodies, inhabit them, use them as clothing—”
“As you use Rita’s?” Crocker’s eyes were
fires of fury.
“I am Rita. I am more Rita than I ever was before
I accepted the freedom. Then I was as one asleep and dreaming, now
I am awake—alive! Yes, I am Rita, though you will not believe it. I
think that you cannot, for there is that in you which wants me to
be the lesser. Is that not so?
“This day I have said to him who came with me that I was
still heart-tied to you. Perhaps that was true—once. When I came to
you before, my once dear friends, after my change, it was as a
beggar, asking for your alms. But in that I erred. For what have
you to give me now?”
“Perhaps nothing.” Hadlett, not the pilot, answered
her.
She laughed. “How well you sum it up. Still—there are
those here—” Rita glanced from one to the next. “You
have such courage, even if it is wrongly rooted. I know you all
well, even these two new ones come into your company. And, though
you may not believe it, I wish you well. What I can do for you,
that I will. But I warn you—it can be but little. You have not the
freedom. And what you have provoked is very strong.”
“It was Avalon who gave me the first hint of using the
mind power.” Nick spoke for the first time. “If this
was such a wrong thing, then why did he do it?”
He thought Rita looked a little shaken. “I do not know.
The Heralds have their purposes under the King. This is a change
time—”
“So,” the Vicar said, “a time of alteration
may bring things out of custom to pass? Logos once more faces
Chaos. And you say that our strength will not hold to protect
us?”
Rita shook her head. “It cannot. We with the freedom draw
from Avalon itself. Look—it can be thus with us.” She stooped
to set her hand to the floor. Under her touch the rock crumbled,
leaving the imprint of her fingers. “That is no illusion, set
your hand within if you do not believe me. But its like you cannot
do, for your gift is small. Unite if you will, as you have, and
there is still a limit, for the land will not nourish
you.”
Lung who had been crouched at her feet, leaped up again, and she
smiled at his exuberance, laid her hand on his head, while from the
shadows sped Jeremiah, wreathing about her ankles, purring so
loudly they could hear. And for the cat, also, Rita had a touch.
When she raised her head there was a faint trouble on her face.
“Some can accept freedom, others choose their chains. Why
is it so?”
“Because,” Crocker burst out, “we are
ourselves! We don’t want to be changed into—into—”
“Into what I am? But what then am I, Barry?”
“I don’t know. Except that you are not Rita. And
that I hate you for what you have done to her!”
“But I am Rita, the whole Rita. Fear walks with hate. You
hate because you fear.”
Nick saw Crocker’s face go tight. A man might look so when
he killed.
“You see?” Rita spoke to Hadlett. “His mind is
closed because he wills it so. We build our own walls about us.
What is your wall, Vicar?”
“My faith, Rita. I have lived with it as part of me all my
life. I am a priest of my faith. As such I cannot betray
it.”
She bowed her head. “You are blind, but your choice by
your own standard is just. And you, Lady Diana?”
“Perhaps I can also say it is faith—faith in the past, in
what made up my life—” She spoke slowly as if seeking the
right words.
“So be it. And you, Jean? Yes, I can understand what ties
you to danger and darkness.”
The other girl flushed, her mouth twisted angrily. But she did
not speak, only moved a fraction closer to Crocker.
“Mrs. Clapp, then?” Rita continued. It was as if she
must force a final denial from each and every one of them in
turn.
“Well—perhaps it’s because I’ve been a
churchgoin’ body all m’life. If the Vicar thinks this
is wrong—then I’ll abide by what he says.”
“And you, Warden?”
“It’s like Lady Diana said—you make your choice
’bout who you stand with. That’s good enough for
me.”
“And you?” Rita turned now to Linda.
“If one chooses Avalon, is there any chance of returning
to one’s own time and world?” the American girl
asked.
“That I do not know. But I believe that the will to remain
will be stronger than the will to return. For one becomes a part of
Avalon.”
“Then I guess it will be ‘no’! But has Lung
chosen?” Linda’s eyes were now on the dog crouched at
Rita’s feet.
“Ask.”
“Lung—Lung—” Linda called softly. The Peke looked at
her and came, moving slowly, but he came.
“They have their loyalty also,” Rita said.
“He will stay with you because he is heart-tied. Even as
Jeremiah will share what comes to you, Maude Clapp.”
She was going to ask him now. Nick braced himself, because he
knew what he would answer and what would come of it. Why must he
take on this burden? He had no heart-ties, as Rita called them, yet
he must go against all his inclinations, and for no reason he could
put into words.
“I stay,” he said before she could ask. Rita was
frowning. “For you it is not the same. You say the words but
something more may come of this. We shall see. However, in this
much shall I aid you all now. That which waits without is but the
first wave of what comes. Use your will with mine and I shall set a
barrier—to hold for a little.”
“We want nothing from you!” Crocker flared.
“Barry, this is for all to decide,” the Vicar said.
“I think, Rita, you mean this for our good. What say the
rest?”
Crocker and Jean shook their heads, but the others nodded in
agreement. So having decided, they linked their power, standing
within the cave, not knowing what it wrought outside, but feeling,
too, the fierce surge of energy from Rita.
“This will not hold. It will only afford you a brief
respite.”
“For as much as you have given us, we thank you,”
Hadlett answered. “And, my child, we wish you
well.”
Rita raised her hand and traced a design in the air that
remained there for an instant, written in pale blue fire—the
ankh.
“I wish you—peace. And that none may trouble you
thereafter.”
Once more she wept, tears on her white cheeks. Then she turned
and went from them, the shining envelope of radiance closing about
her so they could not see how she disappeared.
“She wished us death!” Jean exploded. “You
know that, don’t you—she meant that by her
‘peace’—death!”
“She wished us the best she could foresee for us.”
Hadlett’s voice was very tired. “I believe she spoke
the truth.”
“Yes,” Lady Diana agreed heavily. She did not add to
that but went to stand by the fire, staring into it.
But Linda came to Nick. “There can be a way back—”
she told him, an eager note in her voice.
“Back where?” He was hardly aware of her.
“Back to our own world.”
“How do you mean?” She had his attention now.
“If we can only get out of here—back to where we came in.
Once there, why can’t we make a door and go through? If we
could make soldiers and a machine gun, as we did”—she waved
to the cave entrance—“then we ought to be able to get back by
willing hard enough—all of us together. Don’t you see? It
could work—it has to!” She ended as vehemently as if at that
moment she could see such a door, the safe past behind it.
“Even if it would work,” Nick countered, “how
are we going to get back to the forest to try? If we leave here—do
you realize what is waiting out there? We couldn’t fight our
way across country—not with those things waiting for us!”
“We can”—she was stubborn—“use illusions.
Don’t you see—it is all we can do.”
“What is the only thing we can do?” Jean’s
voice, hostile in tone, cut in.
“We have to try to get back to our own world. I was
telling Nick—we can do it! If we go back to where we first came
through—to where the jeep is—then make a door—we can go through!
It’s a way we’ll have to try. Don’t you see, we
have to!”
Her excitement grew as she talked. That she was wrong, Nick was
convinced. But to his surprise he saw an answering spark arise in
Jean.
“If it would work—” The English girl drew a long
breath. “Yes, if that worked and he—we—could be free of
everything here! It would be wonderful! That forest is a long way
from here and with all that out there—”
“We’ve just got to try,” Linda urged.
“She—Rita—you heard what she said about worse coming. If we
stay here we’re caught. But if we can make it
back—”
“Can’t do it.” Crocker had been drawn to their
group. “If the country was free, yes, it would be worth a
try. But we can’t fight our way through now.”
“So we just stay here”—Linda rounded on
him—“and wait to be caught by those horrors? Is that what you
want? There ought to be some way we can get through.”
She looked eagerly from one to another. Perhaps in Jean she
still had an ally, but Nick knew how impossible such a trek would
be. He had come cross-country under Rita’s protection and he
had a very good idea that had it not been for that he would not
have lasted long no matter how stiff a fight he had put up. With
Mrs. Clapp, the Vicar, the wounded Stroud, to slow them, they would
not have a chance.
“We have to get back,” Linda repeated. “I—I
don’t want to die. And you were right, Jean. Rita wished us
to die there at the last. She—the People won’t do any more to
help us. We’ll have to help ourselves and the only way is to
get back to our own world. Maybe—maybe you don’t have to go
to the place you came through after all. Maybe we could make a gate
right here!” Her words came faster and faster.
Nick walked away. He was tired with a weariness that weighed on
him like a heavy burden. He did not believe that Linda’s
suggestion had any hope of realization. And he was too worn out to
argue about it. He sat down on the floor and was only aware of Mrs.
Clapp when she handed him one of the wooden bowls that held some
liquid with a sharp scent.
“Get that down you, lad. It’ll perk you up.
An’ I want you to tell me somethin’ true—no fancying it
up because I’m an old woman as should be told only good
things. I’m old enough to know that there are some things
that have no good in ’em at all. Those are made for our
bearin’ when the time comes. Do you think there is anything
we can do—you have been out an’ seen it all—to help
ourselves?”
Nick sipped the drink. It was slightly bitter, which was in
keeping with the situation at hand. But as it slid down his throat
it brought warmth—though it did nothing to banish the inner cold
rooted in his mind and body.
“I don’t think there is any more we can do than has
been done. She said that the Dark Powers can draw men to help them.
And I saw some out there that might be such. I don’t know how
long the barrier will last.”
She nodded. “It is not what you’ve said, but all
you’ve not. Well, there were the good years. But you young
ones—it would be fairer to you if you had had longer. I wish
Jeremiah had gone with her, an’ the little dog, too.
It’s not right that good beasts have to be with us.”
She sighed and took the empty bowl he handed to her.
Nick longed to go and stretch himself out on his scanty bed. But
who knew when the protection Rita had raised would fail? It might
be well to check on what was happening out there.
He dragged himself to his feet and went to the entrance, pulling
up to the sentry station. No phantom machine gun was there now.
But before him, about five feet away, a shimmering cloud, very
visible in the gloom, made a curtain. If anything moved beyond he
could not see.
Not that he doubted they were still there. And there they would
wait until the curtain failed. When that happened—illusions that
could not be held and—
Nick put his arm across a rock, laid his head on it, and closed
his eyes. But he could not close out his thoughts. Rita and the
Herald were right; these stubborn English, he, Linda, were throwing
away life for nothing. He did not believe that Avalon was evil.
The power radiating from the ankh in the city had nearly killed
him. But there was nothing of evil in it. It was only that he, as
he now was, was too frail, too flawed a thing to hold such
energy.
Now the Dark Tide swept the land. Only in the city, in those
places with the freedom of Avalon, would there be light. And those
who did not accept the light opened a door to the Dark. They had
tried to use the gift of the light to their own purpose, and, in
that, Rita said they brought worse upon themselves.
But why had Avalon, the Herald, given Nick the hint that had led
him to the discovery of the power? Certainly there was a purpose in
that, a test, perhaps—wherein he had failed by the way he had made
use of his discovery. It could well be.
In any event he would now have to face what lay before him and
make the best of it. Perhaps Rita was also right in wishing them a
swift death as the best she could offer.
Nick thought about death. Was it an end or a beginning? No one
knew, only hoped for the best with the part of him that feared
absolute extinction above all else. Death could be peace, in such a
land as this.
“Nicholas—”
He raised his head. By the glow of the wall he could see
Hadlett, though he could not read the Vicar’s expression.
“Yes, sir?”
“You were in the city, Sam told us. What is it like
there?”
Wearily Nick spoke of the walls and streets, of those doors with
their pictures that came alive at the touch, and, finally, of the
great ankh and the energy that could slay when one was unprepared
to face its force.
“The looped cross,” said the Vicar. “Yes, the
key to eternity, as the Egyptians called it when they put it into
the hands of their gods. A source of energy that only those who
have surrendered to it can absorb.”
“They are not evil,” Nick returned. “I have
seen evil and it does not lie in the city.”
“No. It is not evil, yet it demands the surrender of
one’s will, of what one is.”
“As is also demanded by our own way of worship.”
Nick did not know from where he had those words.
“But that is an older way, from which we turned long ago.
To surrender again to its power, Nicholas, is to betray all our own
beliefs.”
“Or to discover that there is only one source after all,
but from it many rivers—” Again Nick was not aware of his
words until he uttered them.
“What did you say?” Hadlett’s tone was sharp,
fiercely demanding.