The light was inconstant and deceiving, the twists and turns in the corridors endless. Lyssa ran onward, refusing to give up, the voice of the Beast booming and echoing all around her.
Abruptly she emerged into a wide hall lit with a milky glow. The walls here were higher than many she'd passed between during her long, seemingly endless run. The light itself seemed to twist and bend as she stared, forming eerie shadows and discomfiting silhouettes on the ceiling and floor.
Ahead lay a dome of some partly translucent material, ribbed with opaque, toothlike projections. It sat by itself in the center of the high-roofed chamber. It was made of material that differed from the rest of the Fortress,
She moved forward until she stood next to it, then searched for the safest passage around. There was movement behind her and she saw another of the silent white Slayers. A gap opened in the side of the dome. For an instant she hesitated, but no Slayers emerged from the gap. The path ahead was clear.
The walls of the passageway were contorted and warped according to some alien geometry. To see them was enough to know they hadn't been designed with human aesthetics in mind. She longed for the comforting, straight walls and angles of the White Castle.
She wondered at the sudden appearance of the passageway. Perhaps she'd tripped some concealed switch. In any case, there was the threat of the Slayers urging her onward. She ran forward.
The passage was not a long one and it instantly sealed itself behind her. She found herself standing in a dimly lit chamber. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust.
The sealing of the passageway behind her was ominous, but she wasn't entirely disappointed. If she was shut in, others were shut out. The closing prevented the Slayers from reaching her. For the moment it seemed she was safe from them.
She studied the floor and ceiling, which were fashioned of the same smooth material as the walls. She ran a hand along one curving section, following the arc down to the floor, but could not find so much as a crack where the two joined.
The air in the room was much warmer than it had been in the corridors or her cell, bordering on the sultry. She moved along the wall, searching for an opening, a lever, anything that might signify an exit or a means for producing one. There was nothing.
Except… there, across the empty floor from where she stood, a darker shape outlined against the blackness. Another doorway, perhaps. She hesitated, then moved toward it. Nothing there. Maybe a little farther on …
She halted and found she was shivering from a sudden chill, which did not come from a cold breeze. Carefully she retraced her steps until she was pressed tightly against the warm wall that had admitted her. She could retreat no farther.
At first it was only a sound—a faint, brushing sound like leaves scudding along a carpet. The sound was not distinct like footsteps, but more like a continuous rush across the floor, like something being dragged. A scratchy, rustling noise, not comforting to hear in near darkness.
Then something else—a steady pounding, deep and reverberant. It reminded her of the beating of her own heart, though whether this was the pulsing of another heart she could not have said, save that it was slower than her own and seemed to vary greatly in speed and intensity. With each pulse a brief flash of light temporarily illuminated a portion of the floor. She could not see the source of the light or tell if it was connected to the beating noise, but each time it flared to life she thought she could see something standing in the far portal she had considered entering.
Her fingers dug at the smooth wall. It helped to keep her from shaking so much. The thing that stood in the portal was very tall. In shape it was roughly human, but that was all that was human about it. She could not even tell if it was clothed or naked. She did not want to be able to tell.
Only the eyes showed clearly. They were enormous—oval instead of round—with bright red, vertically slitted irises. They focused on her where she stood frozen against the wall. At least, she thought weakly, there are only two of them.
She knew what it was without being told. Tales had been handed down through generations, old stories filled with more fancy than fact. Tales used to frighten unruly children. As a little girl she'd listened wide-eyed and trembling to such stories. She was not a little girl now. It would do no good to behave like one.
With a great effort of will she forced herself to stand away from the wall and regard the apparition as stolidly as it regarded her.
"Are… are you the Beast?"
"You may call me that if it pleases you. My own name for myself you would find difficult to pronounce, though it may be that in time you will come to know it."
"What do you want with me? The same thing that you want with the rest of my world?"
"No. If it had been my intention to destroy you, I could have done so long before now. You have been brought here not to perish before me but to give what you alone can give. You have been brought here for a marriage, though not of the sort you can imagine. It will be a much more intimate melding than you can conceive of."
"I don't know what you mean by such words but I do know this: if you could force this marriage or melding or whatever you choose to call it on me, you'd have done so when I was first brought here. But you've waited. Something has made you hesitate. So I think that perhaps you cannot take what you wish from me without my agreement."
"You are hopeful rather than certain. For now it amuses me to leave you wondering. What I wish from you is a part of your mind, your soul. You are special, Lyssa of Eirig. Unique. In you many generations have combined to produce something atypical to your world. I would make use of it. It raises you far above the mass of insects you call your 'people.' Now, with my help and instruction, you will rise beyond your wildest dreams."
"My dreams are not wild and I do not care to rise above them. As for help and instruction, I have already chosen a consort to share my life with me."
Laughter seemed beyond the creature. "You have chosen a paltry kingdom on an insignificant planet. I do not blame you for this. It is all you know. But there is more to the universe, much more. Why have a kingdom when you could rule an entire world? You could be queen and satrap in one, ruling absolutely."
"I have no desire to rule at all, absolutely or otherwise. I have chosen love."
"Love is fleeting," the Beast replied. "An abstract notion that humans have clung to for far too long. It cripples you, makes you susceptible to the manipulations of others. Only power is eternal. You must learn to rise above such childish notions. You must grow."
"One who rises beyond love has no soul."
"One who has power need not worry about such superstitious nonsense."
A clawed hand sprang to light in the darkness. As Lyssa stared, it became a ball of flame and leaped at her. She closed her eyes, expecting death. Instead, she found herself witness to a graphic demonstration of the Beast's power.
The flame slammed into the wall behind her, cracking and scorching the material while leaving her cool and untouched. It backed off the wall and enveloped her for a bright orange instant before she felt herself rising in the chill flame's grip. It held her suspended for a moment, then set her down as gently as it had picked her up, and finally shrank to become a tiny, intense globe of drifting energy.
The fireball crawled up her leg, across her side and arm, and as she stared at it curling and rippling in her palm, became a freshly opened rose, its petals damp with dew. Behind her the wall smoked and gave off strange thick smells.
"Such is my power," the Beast rumbled, its voice echoing around the chamber. "It can be yours. What are infantile notions of love compared to this? You can command an army of men to do your bidding. All you have to do is desire it."
"I already command an army of men."
There was the fleeting image of a great arm moving through an arc in the darkness. "I see no army."
"Set me free and you shall see such an army as Krull has not seen in a hundred years."
"Ah, that I will not do. Consider, Lyssa. I offer you power far greater than any you can imagine."
"I don't want your power. I don't want anything that is a part of you, anything you have touched, anything you have made. I want nothing to do with anything that has your hand in it."
"Is it my form that frightens you? Is that what keeps you so set against the sharing I offer? That is easily remedied."
As she watched, the great reptilian eyes blurred, seemed to drop nearer the floor. The pupils became rounded, as did the eyes themselves. They advanced toward her. Soon they were near enough for her to see that they looked out at her from Colwyn's face, and she could not repress a gasp. Save for the red that shone deep within, she could not tell that the eyes regarding her were not Colwyn's.
"I can assume any form I wish. Whatever pleases you I can become. It is an art my people have practiced for a long time. Think. Any form at all. If you would prefer a cat or a watchful dog, I can become those as easily. Any form you wish, Lyssa of Eirig."
"What about an ant? Could you become an ant?"
"I am no infant. Do not think to toy with me. I can punish as well as reward. I would expect you to choose this form."
"There is no love in that form. There is nothing you can become that will hide what you are. There is no love in one who murders and destroys for pleasure."
"I do not deny that the activities of my Slayers provide me with amusement, but you are wrong if you think there is no more to it than that. There is purpose as well." The voice remained that of the Beast, for all that it issued from Colwyn's mouth.
"You still think love better than power? You think there is love in your boy-king? You are as naive as any of your people. Behold."
The figure turned and gestured at the wall. It split, to reveal night and tall trees instead of the glowing corridor outside the chamber. As she watched, it seemed that they moved closer, until she was standing just to one side of a towering forest giant.
Figures stood there, one that she recognized instantly. Colwyn was leaning back against the shaggy bark. She had no doubt that it was the real Colwyn, her Colwyn, and not some false image conjured up by the Beast to deceive her.