Children of the Gates (15 page)

Her skin was white, a dazzling white, and very smooth, without any fluff of hair along its surface. Against it his arm was coarse, rough, browned. She took his hand in hers and the sensation of flesh meeting flesh was not as he had known it before, but rather as if fingers and palm of sleek marble had grasped him.

“Thus it is with the bodies of the Kin,” Rita told him. “That is how we go protected against the weapons of the flyers, and against other dangers here. There are evils that can destroy us, but those are evils native to this world, and they reach us in other ways than by wounds of the body. If your people accept Avalon, then they shall become of Avalon, as I now am.”

“You are—hard—” Nick could not find another word for the feel of her flesh. “Yet—when you were in the woods—I saw Linda’s hand pass through your arm.”

Rita did not answer him. Instead she said with the authority of one who did not imagine she would be disobeyed:

“You have come where you cannot stay. If you accept not Avalon, then that which is of Avalon can kill. You have felt the beginning of that death. Get you out—this place is not for you.”

She touched his forehead in much the same place as the fanatical monk had pressed the cross so painfully into his skin. There was chill to her fingers. But from them flowed into him a renewal of strength so he could stand again.

“You saved my life. Is there anything I can do for you?” Always, Nick thought, he would remember those tears and what lay in the eyes where that moisture gathered.

“What words can you use with them that I have not already spoken?” Rita asked. “Their fear lies so deep in them that they would kill before they will accept what I offer.”

He expected her to stay, but when unable to find words to deny the truth of what she said, Nick started away, Rita matched step with him.

“I will go out of the city. You need not trouble—”

There was a trace of a smile on her face. “To see you to the door?” she ended for him. “But there is a need. I do not know how you entered, but you, being what you are, cannot win free again save that the door be opened for you.”

Not all the strength drained from him had returned. Nick moved slowly along the silent, empty street. But to his companion was it either silent or empty? He believed not. That he could see her might be because she was originally of his kind. Or maybe she willed it so because she still felt a faint linkage with those outside. She did not explain, in fact Rita did not speak again until they reached the abrupt ending of the avenue, the beginning of the grassy plain.

Then again came her question delivered with authority.

“How did you enter through the barrier?”

Nick wanted to dissemble and found he could not. With her eyes upon him he must speak the truth.

“I followed a Herald.”

“That is—impossible. Yet, I see that it is also the truth. But how can it be the truth?”

“The Herald was of my imagining. I pictured him into life.”

He heard a hiss of breath that was a gasp. “But you are not of the Kin! How could you do such a thing?”

“I learned how to save my life. And it was Avalon himself who gave me the clue as to how it could be done. The others are trying it too—”

“No!” That was a cry which carried a note of fear. “They cannot! It means their destruction if they have not the power of the Kin. They are children playing with a raw fury they do not understand! They must be stopped!”

“Come and tell them so,” Nick returned.

“They will not listen—”

“Can you be sure? Having used this power I think that they understand more than they did before. The Vicar, I am sure he will listen.”

“Yes, he has a deepness of heart and a width of mind. Perhaps this can be done. I cannot but try again. But they must not attempt to weave the great spell. It can kill—or summon up that which it is better not to see. Avalon has some life in it that can answer one’s dreams in a way to freeze the very spirit.”

Nick remembered the devilish things that had besieged the party in the woods.

“So I have seen.”

Rita gave him a long measuring look and then held out her hand.

“Let us go.”

As her cold, smooth fingers closed about his, Rita drew him along. So linked they went out into the open, heading for the ridge where he had left Stroud on watch. Would the Warden accept Rita? Had the prejudice of the party been so shaken by Nick’s discovery that they would listen to the one they had cast out? Nick hoped so.

But he was not so sure when they did climb the ridge and Stroud was not waiting. Nick found the flattened grass where the Warden must have lain in hiding to watch him enter the city. But no one was there.

“Stroud!” Nick called, but he dared not shout as he wished.

An answer came in a croaking caw, as a bird burst up from the grass, beating black wings to carry it skyward. Once aloft, it circled them, still calling hoarsely.

“He has—he is in danger!” Rita watched the bird. “The balance has been upset, the force thoughts have released evil. You see—” She turned fiercely on Nick, her composure broken. “You see what such meddling can do? The Dark Ones hunt, run he ever so far or fast. And he, not understanding, will lead them to the rest!”

“Lead who?”

“All those of the Dark who are not bound to any place of evil. And all those they can command among the sons of men! You played with the power, erecting no safeguards. And they who do so open all doors, many of which give upon the Outer Dark. We must hurry—!”

Rita gripped his wrist again, her grasp biting into the still tender flesh so that Nick winced. But she did not note that as he strode forward, dragging him on.

Instead of skulking under cover Rita made her way confidently along the shortest route, heading for the cave. It would seem she had no fears of this land. But Nick did not share her confidence. However, when he tried to free himself from her hold, he found that as impossible as if her fingers were a metal handcuff.

He came to a stop, jerking her to a halt.

“Tell me exactly what we may be facing, what Stroud may have done, or what might have happened to him.”

“Do not delay us!” Deep in the eyes Rita turned upon him was an alien glow. “He has fled—but you saw the Corraven where he had been. That is the creature of the Dark. It was left to warn us. It so declared this was not a matter for the Kin.”

“Yet you are making it your matter,” Nick pointed out.

“Yes, but that I cannot help. I am tied, heart-tied, and I have not been long enough among the Kin that those ties are loosed. Still do I care for those of my old heritage. I am free in Avalon, free of choice. If I choose to go up against the Dark, then none will step before me to say ‘no.’ For I choose, knowing what may be the price. But we waste time. Come!”

15

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 pointblank 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 churchgoing’ body all m’ life. If the Vicar thinks this 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.