Norton, Andre - Chapbook 04 (8 page)

There
were weapons, too, swords and knives possessing hilts rich in jewels, strange
other objects which were certainly not intended for adornment but which, if
weapons,
Rentam
did not recognize.

Here
and there was a rack of bones .. . some draped with chains of office of the
adornment of chief wives.
 
Several of
these lay broken across the things which
Rentam
believed might be weapons.

Before
them was still that blast of light which gave no hint of its source or purpose
.. . unless that latter was death, which
Rentam
could
well believe.
 
In his hands the colored
spindle of stone quivered past all his endeavors to control it, but so far it
had not broken free.

His
tongue touched the rough stuff of the mask, the tip of it pointed through the
hole which served for the mouth cutting and the opening for breathing.
 
Deliberately he began to try to set the pace
for himself, to be quickly forced into the maelstrom of color.

It
was a battle, and his uncovered skin pricked and stung.
 
Modic
had again
fallen to hands and knees.
 
Even his head
hung low so he did not watch the way ahead, he merely crawled toward the source
of the light.

Rentam
was able to slow his advance though he could not tear himself free
of the strong pull upon him.
 
Still he
quested with tongue tip, thrusting that even farther into the crackling air
about.

The
light must have a source, and having a source it must be set, meant to protect
it's own inner sanctum as he had seen its overflow light up the sky in the
first coming of their party.
 
Animal,
biped, brain . . . thought process which?

His
flesh was so seared by assault... what awaited him?
 
For the first time ... his
Betweener
-born organ for detection brought him no knowledge.
 
There was nothing ahead, that sense insisted,
but the light itself, and that was not tended by any living thing.

The
way was growing narrower as the great room started to close in about them to
form a corridor.
 
Here the treasure was
less visible. There were more skeletons, insignias of office mingled with
brittle bones, and there were indeed weapons he knew, some lying half into the red
flood of the stream from which he edged away as it began to flow widening more
and more.
 
The stench rising from it was
choking.
 
Rentam
coughed hollowly and leaned with one hand against the wall as he steadied himself
against unseen gusts which struck him.

Modic
halted.
 
Then he hunched
in a crouch, sweeping his hands from side to side about him though without
seeming to see what lay there. By chance his fingers curved about one of the
rodlike
things which
Rentam
believed
was a weapon.
 
Still not raising his head
so that he might look at what he had found, the Seeker allowed the rod to slip
through his fingers until a dark band meant for a grip was resting in his hold.

Rentam
was not prepared for what followed.
 
Modic
swung around,
moving with the speed of a trained hand and foot warrior.

The
end of that rod pointed unerringly at
Rentam's
middle, though the Seeker still did not lift his head.

No!
 
Rentam's
sense had
never proved to be deceptive but it had to be so now ... it had to be!
 
There was life in the other but it had dwindled
down as might the last coal of a fire being fast smothered. In its place ...
the guide's tongue tip sent a thrill of pain through his body, kept him pinned
to the wall.
 
There was life ending ...
and nothing, nothing gathered beyond to take its place.

Yet
Modic
was on his knees, his head hanging forward
nearly resting on his chest.

Not
dead ... possessed!
 
Other evil tales
from the wild slipped into memory.
 
The
Seeker gave body room and aid to something else.... Only, when
Rentam
strove to touch that, to discover what had chained
the River
worlder
to such a trap, he could not pick
up anything save always the burning of the power.

Rentam
jerked his body to the left as that weapon pointed in his direction.
 
He felt the heat of a ray which burst at
him.
 
It was gone as quickly as two
breaths, though
Modic
still held it aimed at the
Betweener
.
 
Rentam
saw the other's hand tighten about the band on the rod
with full strength.

The
shining length of his own find was ready.
 
In its heart, flaring from the butt to the broken point, was a rich roll
of color.

That
twisted as if to wrench itself free but
Rentam's
six
fingers held tight.
 
His whole body
jerked as if the artifact from the city ruin was a rope with him imprisoned in
a loop.
 
He flailed out with his other arm,
striving to keep his balance, and so struck against
Modic
.

Whether
the unexpected contact between their bodies was the reason or not, the Seeker
staggered halfway around to bring up the strange weapon.
 
That gesture was never completed, for
Modic's
rod, touching by chance the broken knife
Rentam
unconciously
advanced in
defense, burst, scattering fragments which melted to drip to the floor.
 
Spots of dull dark blue fell smoking and
glowing at their cores.
 
The Seeker
lurched forward, his unsteady pace close to a run, shouldering
Rentam
aside. The guide went after him at a speed which was
nearly equal.

They
came upon more skeletons.
 
However the
bones were scattered, no rack of them whole.
 
Also they appeared as if they were more recent than those in the
hallway.
 
Another Seeker band which had
reached this point before falling prey to an enemy they could not sense?
 
Rentam

wondered.

In
the center of the large chamber beyond was a bank of chairs, constructed, not
of stone, but of some substance which glittered with dancing lights.
 
Before those bubbled a pool from which arose
the dread runnel of red they had companied with from without.
 
It appeared to
Rentam
that small bursts of flame danced over surface just as had the black insects in
the outer world.

At
the entrance of the pool crouched something which was surely out of some
nightmare of the damned.
 
Rentam
, gazing at it with horror was near overborne.
 
For it might be that one of his kin, larger,
mad with blood lust, stared straight into his eyes as if the mask he still wore

was
transparent.
 
The thing's mouth gaped
wide and the pointed fangs within dripped glowing slime into the pool.

It
was not dead.
 
His own guide's sense told
him rather it had never lived as he knew life.
 
There was nothing at all
Rentam
could detect from
it.
 
While in the seats... Yes, there sat
dead ... six bodies, not
riven
and torn, not reduced
to racks of bones..
 
..

These
were not
Betweeners
, nor Seekers, nor of any race
Rentam
had knowledge of.
 
What he could see of their skin (they wore wrappings which covered most
of it) was a dark blue.
 
The hands of
each were spread out so the withered fingers could lie upon a series of buttons
upon lap boards which perhaps kept each in his chair.

From
this scene, the pool, and the long dead, there thrust upward a beam of
light.
 
Even as
Rentam
sighted it that beam pulsed again and again and then vanished.
 
He drew in breath and expelled it again in a hiss
which near carried away his mask.
 
The
hands of the dead had moved

. .
. pressing certain of those buttons.

While
the thing in the pool dropped its scaled muzzle into the slimy flood and
drank--or seemed to do so.
 
Yet that was
impossible,
Rentam's
senses still told him there was
no life here.
 
If there had ever been it
was long since gone.

Modic
scrambled along the edge of the pool.
 
His head no longer hung down but his features
were twisted in such an expression of rage as
Rentam
had never seen.

The
Seeker's mouth worked as he threw his mask into the pool, his eyes never
leaving
Rentam's
face.
 
Now he half turned and sprang forward to the
nearest of those seats.
 
His hands closed
upon the body there and he jerked it out of its perch to the floor, catching
and holding the board as the body fell.
 
Now he seated himself where the corpse had been ... his fingers also
spanning the board of buttons.

His
whole body shook as he flung up his head and brayed wild laughter, his
attention on the thing which had drunk and again raised its head to stare at
Rentam
.

"The
hour is now!"
 
Modic's
voice seemed to fill the place.
 
He might
have been shouting with the full power of his lungs.

"Let
that which purifies go forth and..."
 
His finger tips played a fluttering game on the board.

"This
is the hour," he repeated.

"Broken
was the pattern when these died."
 
He glanced at his dead companions.

"Some
of their training lives on as was meant.
 
They rule the world...."
 
He
leaned forward a little, spittle flicks on his lips, and yet he grinned and the
wild exultation was not gone from his eyes....He nodded toward that thing on
opposite bank of the pool.

"How
go things with you, oh,
Farguel
?
 
Yes, you are dead and gone but the treasure
you gave us still does its duty.
 
See
this one of your kin ... he knows not even now what he has found ... the root
of that which had made a desert of blooming land.
 
Dead!"
 
He pounded his hand on the

arm
of the chair in which he sat.

"We
died too soon!"
 
Again his face
twisted in that horrifying way, as much of a mask as the one he had flung from
him.

"We
will it not!"
 
He pulled at his under
robe as if it had begun to choke him.

"Dead,
we shall take with us a dead world.
 
Come,
brothern
from the outer stars.
 
We shall move even as we have planned, for
that one," he looked to
Rentam
, "shall be
food for
Farguel
.
 
So fed life will return ... is that not so?
 
Have not I,
Thebar
,
returned in the body of this

rover
... little by little he became me ... first as a whisper of treasure, and, when
he had taken that, a stronger vision and a stronger.
 
Until he saw himself a conqueror and a king!