9
Of How I Dreamed and of What Ill Followed
I was in a far place, a place wholly alien to those of my kind—My kind? What species dared I now claim kinship with? For I was very much aware in this place that two natures seethed within me. Also, they did not lie quietly together in partnership, but rather carried on a ceaseless struggle for domination, now one and then the other rising into short-termed control.
However, in this place, each of the natures, so at war, made temporary pact, for they were both threatened. How I was so sure of that I could not tell. And the double identity that was me, twined and uneasily united for the nonce, was moving—
I did not walk in the body in that place beyond my waking comprehension. No, it was more as if I were a floating leaf drawn along by wind, the force of which could not be withstood.
I did not see with the eyes of man or beast. Rather I perceived what was about me by another sense I could not put name to. Thus I knew that I moved through a world of grayness in which naught had true solidity, only shadows. Very uncanny were most of the shadows among which I whirled. Some, I thought, had the aspect of beasts, some were monsters. Others took the form of men and women. From them always came an aura of soul-shaking fear or horror, so that I shrank from any near contact with them.
None appeared to notice me, or even be aware of each other. Each was enwrapped in a private world of fear and despair. They were not drawn as I was, but fluttered unhappily here and there as if in search, a search for which there was no end.
The farther I went the more complete and substantial became the Shadow forms. From gray wisps of mist they darkened, grew more dense. Now they did not drift above the ground: they ran breathlessly with sudden darts and halts. A few crept far more slowly, as if their own dark bodies were heavy burdens they could not escape.
These I saw the clearer because there hung a spark of light ahead. That was what drew me, though the other dark forms about me seemed oblivious of it. I had no choice, no escape. In me fear now arose to war with horror, as if my two selves were aroused once more to do battle. That was not so, for both man and beast cowered before the threat the spark of light suggested.
Brighter the gleam grew. From it, rays spread to reveal more of this land beyond all normal lands. Here were knife-sharp ridges, deep valleys between, as cups filled with utter darkness that emitted subtle promises of peril beyond my understanding.
I did not climb the ridges. Thankfully, I did not descend into the valleys, as I saw some of the other Shadow people do, to be swallowed up and lost. The current of air bore me on and on. Things rooted on the stone writhed, tossed long tendrils into the air. Those the shadow figures strove to avoid, as one flees a poisonous growth.
The light had become so bright as to dazzle whatever sense I used for sight in this place. Then it began to pulse. I knew—then I knew—that the light was formed by words, that it was my summons through some spell laid upon me.
There was no escape. Bound by strong ensorcellment, I was drawn to the source. Before it, I hung helplessly, forced to face the glare. Thus I perceived that what I confronted was a window, an opening in the fabric of this world. Through that the spell forced me to look—
The glare was five-pointed, a huge star the lines of which were formed by orange fire. In the center of the blaze stood one whom I could not distinguish, so bright and searing was the light about the muffled figure.
But the sorcery she wrought reached out for me.
Ursilla!
So she willed me back into her control. She would—
Frantically, I fought. Man and beast forged themselves into one for resistance. I had no real defense to set against her witchery, nothing but my will. However, that will was strengthened by what lies within all living things, the refusal to accept extinction without a battle. Perhaps such defense was the stronger in me during that moment because of my dual nature. I only knew that if I answered the call Ursilla gave, that which was truly Kethan would cease to be. There would remain only the part of me she could render totally submissive to her command.
The star formed a furnace of fire, scorching me. Ursilla’s anger at my stubbornness fed the fire. She would turn to other weapons, and those she had to hand, ready. Though she did not speak, her purpose was made clear to me. If I obeyed now—then a portion of Kethan would survive. If I caused her to exert the force necessary to chain me fully to her purpose, then the inner core of me would become one of the shadowy seekers running hopelessly across this alien land. What might return to my own time and place would be a husk she could fill with another entity utterly obedient to her.
The orange fire of dominance and rule was changing, deepening into another more forbidding hue. Ripples of the other color flooded out from the points. There was very little left now—the purple of dire danger spread. Return to her—or be destroyed!
Yet the united spirit in me, fearful, terrified as it was, could not surrender. I knew the penalty, but there was part of the identity of Kethan that could not obey, that could not allow Ursilla to have her way. I did not know from whence that utter abhorrence of her offered bargain came, only that it held me firm. Then—
There was a great tearing across the star, now almost entirely ominous purple. The points burst apart, even as the Shadow country was pulled away, as if a fabric were being rent with calm intent. Into one of the gaps of utter darkness that appeared within the rents, I swayed, dropped, unable to control my going.
The sensation of heat continued, though it was no longer as severe as the burning tongues that had whipped from the star point to sear me. I opened my eyes into the light of midday, where the sun hung like a ball of fire overhead.
My transition had been too abrupt. I was still dazedly lost between the Shadow world and the real. But, as my senses returned, I saw the woman who stood on one of the paths radiating out from the points of the Star Tower, those that divided the herb garden into sections.
Memory returned slowly. I raised my head, knew that I was still a pard, caught in the beast trap. Something had saved me from Ursilla, for the moment—that I understood. I gazed wonderingly up at the woman, sure that my escape was her doing.
She was not my Moon Girl, though she was as slender of body. And her face was youthful, save for her eyes, which carried years of full wisdom mirrored in them. Though she was plainly a woman, yet she wore breeches, a jerkin, both of green to blend with the plants knee-high around her.
Her hair was tightly plaited, the braids wound about her head to form a soft crown of dark brown in which there was a tinge of ruddy light. Also, her skin was an even brown, as if her life was spent much in the open.
Beside her feet was a basket in which lay bunches of newly gathered herbs. But my gaze centered on what she held between her two hands, its tip pointed straight at me. Just so might a man hold a spear, to warn off an enemy, or in defense.
I recognized a wand of Power, yet this was unlike the rune-engraved one that Ursilla kept in her most private box, for it was not carved of bone with mystic words inlaid in black and red. Instead, the woman’s rod more resembled a freshly peeled branch, straight, unknotted. At the tip, turned toward me, was a single outstretched leaf, shaped like a spearpoint, of a very bright green.
As I stared at the woman, just as straightly did she regard me, her eyes as searching as Ursilla’s could ever be. This, too, was a Wise Woman, though I sensed that the Powers she served were not the same as the ones to which Ursilla gave homage when she called.