(«Then perhaps it will be best for all the Uchendi if you go on with the testing.»)
(«Most surely, Blade. But I must say that you have done much to pass it already. You entered the Sphere of Wisdom quickly, showed no fear at meeting me there, and did not seek in vain to hide your thoughts. Nor do you have the aura that any man who works unclean magic would have when he has reached your age. Yet I must go deeper into your mind to finish the testing.»)
(«Then do so.»)
(«Breathe quickly and deeply until you become dizzy. Then empty your mind of all thoughts, and fear nothing.»)
Blade laughed. When he'd hyperventilated enough, his mind would be empty of all thoughts, whether he wanted it to be or not. He figured, it would do him no harm-he was already at the Guardian's mercy, and if death did come now it would most likely be quick.
He raised his arms and took the first deep breath, then the second, then the third, and after that a steady rhythm…
Darkness and a great shape looming over him, a fanged head on a long neck and great wings spreading into the shadows. Blade was naked and holding a curiously modern rifle, aimed at the shape. Then the shape blazed orange flame, and he smelled the swamp-stench of methane. He raised the rifle to his shoulder and took aim, knowing where he was.
The Guardian was making him go way back into his mind to relive his trips to other Dimensions. Now he was in the Dimension of the strange other-England called Englor, facing a biologically-engineered dragon sent against Englor by the Red Flames of Russland. Behind him was an inn and Rylla, the Russland scientist who'd helped develop the dragons before she defected. If he didn't find the dragon's vulnerable spots before it set the inn on fire…
A steel corridor stretching ahead and behind as far as he could see. Other corridors branching off on either side. He was running, with something like a laser in his hand. Around him were other men with lasers, also running, also wearing uniformlike jumpsuits.
He was aboard the Avenger, the giant starship built by Earth's mad dictator Loyun Chard. He and his comrades, aided by a woman named Riyannah from a distant world, were going to destroy the ship to keep Chard from taking death and destruction to the distant stars…
Mist swirling, and in the background vast colored cylinders soaring up toward the sky, so tall their tops seemed to be lost in the mist or the clouds. Hard-packed gravel underfoot, and silence everywhere.
He was standing among the Towers of Melnon, on the ground where they'd fought out their ritualized but deadly combats until Blade took a hand…
The deck of a ship heaving under his feet, the smell of salt air, and the creak of rigging or perhaps oars. Somewhere a rough voice was shouting orders.
He couldn't tell where he was-there'd been so many ships and so many seas in so many Dimensions, and deadly battles in all of them…
A vast blue-lit chamber, with pulsing walls that seemed to be made of living flesh. At the far end a delicate latticework of crystal rods and shining wires, and a terrible presence. Blade had no trouble in recognizing the Ngaa, the Dimension X monster the experimental KALI capsule had unleashed on Home Dimension.
He also had no trouble recognizing the woman in the white nurse's uniform lying on the floor between him and the Ngaa: Zoe Cornwall. His first and truest love, and now he suspected likely to be his last. Snatched into this Dimension of horror because in her love for him she'd battled for his sanity against the Ngaa that had driven him mad.
He ran forward and lifted her in his arms. He could tell that she recognized him. He could also tell that she was dying, that the Ngaa was killing her-
And that this time he would see her death from inside her own mind.
No.
(«No! I will not let you put me through this. I refuse. THERE ARE SOME THINGS YOU CANNOT MAKE ME DO AND THIS IS ONE OF THEM. GET OUT OF MY MIND, YOU FILTHY BARBARIAN GHOUL!»)
The sensation of Zoe in his arms and her mind linked to his vanished in a blur of light so dazzling that Blade cried out from the pain in his eyes. Thunder cracked in his head, then rumbled away into silence.
He felt himself weightless, as if he were in space or falling from a great height. All around him was blue, but somehow it was a saner, more healthy blue than the nightmare light of the Ngaa's chamber of death.
The Guardian was falling beside him, his arms outstretched, looking helpless and even frightened for the first time. It was hard to judge distances in this blueness, but the shaman seemed close enough to reach out and touch.
A great pulsing golden bar was growing rapidly below them. Blade somehow knew that he would fall across the bar and be saved. If he reached out a hand and gripped the Guardian, the man would also be saved. If he let the Guardian fall past the bar, however…
The bar slammed Blade in the stomach so hard all the wind whooossshed out of him. It was a terrifyingly strong physical sensation to have in this world he'd been told was a thing of the mind. It also confirmed his judgment, that he should reach out and catch the Guardian.
Blade balanced himself across the bar so that he could use both hands to reach out. The steel-hard muscles of his arms rippled under the skin as he pulled the Guardian to a stop in midair, then started hauling him in like a gaffed fish. The man's eyes were blank and staring. Blade couldn't help wondering if he'd been too late, if he was hauling in a dead man-
Then he was hauling an unconscious man toward him across the bare earth of the testing place, with a two-handed grip on the man's left wrist. Blade hastily let go. His hands were strong enough to break the shaman's older and smaller bones if he wasn't careful! The arm flopped limply to the ground …. Blade heard a hiss of indrawn breath and an angry muttering all around him.
He looked up. Everyone who wasn't looking at the unconscious Guardian was looking at him, and he didn't like most of the looks. He wasn't sure what he'd done to the Guardian, though he was sure it was an accident. That obviously didn't matter to the circle of witnesses. Blade had never seen anything that looked quite so much like the beginning of a lynch mob.
He wouldn't kill Eye of Crystal or her mother, he decided. He would try not to kill Winter Owl if he could avoid it. The Uchendi would need him if the Guardian was dead or mindless. Anyone else who got in his way had better look out.
Blade bent over the Guardian's wrist and felt for a pulse. One was there, and it was steady but also weak enough to worry Blade. He drew the man toward him, ready to start mouth-to-mouth respiration or even cardiopulmonary resuscitation if he had to.
A howl of rage came from the crowd.
«He works further magic,» shouted someone. «Kill him now.»
Blade stood up, ready to move fast, but just then a hysterical screech from a woman cut through the crowd noises. It might have launched everybody forward to tear Blade to pieces. Instead it stopped everyone who'd started moving, as if they'd stepped into concrete. It was the Guardian's wife Kyarta. She went on screaming as Eye of Crystal tried to hold her up, calm her down, and get her to drink some water all at once.
Before anybody else could do anything wise or foolish, the Guardian groaned and sat up. He looked to Blade like a man suffering from a crashing hangover. However, he was definitely alive and conscious, and possibly even of sound mind. About the sound body, Blade wasn't going to take any bets now.
Blade knelt again, which accomplished two things. It looked like a gesture of respect, and he and the Guardian could talk without strain or the risk of anyone overhearing them.