“We all here?” Snow Leopard looked us over critically.
We gathered around the table in the squadmod tac room.
“Beta here,” Coolhand confirmed. Merlin had been pondering a miniscreen full of data; he slipped it into a pocket. Psycho had a disassembled Manlink on the table; he continued to fool with it. Warhound and Ironman gave Snow Leopard their attention. Dragon brooded over a cup of dox at one end of the table. Priestess sat beside me, silent.
“If you’re through, Psycho, we’d like to begin.”
Psycho put down the parts and grinned. “Sorry, Snow Leopard. I try to keep occupied during these staff meetings so I don’t fall asleep.”
“Well, I appreciate that, Psycho, but nevertheless I would like your full attention, if you don’t mind.” Snow Leopard really had a way with words.
“Sure. Sure. You got it.”
“All right,” Snow Leopard began. “We don’t have these meetings as often as we should, but as you know we’ve been rather busy lately. The Second-Cubes-recently briefed all the CAT commanders, and our own Two Four-Lowdrop-briefed me and the other squad leaders. So I’d like to bring everyone up to date on the sit. Feel free to break in with questions. All right, I’m going to summarize this. These meetings go on for hours but generally contain about three to five marks worth of useful information. So I’m going to leave out all the nonsense.”
“We appreciate that, Snow Leopard.” Psycho gave him his best grin.
“And also we’re hoping that Psycho can stay awake throughout the meeting if we keep it short enough. All right, first subject-the mission to Andrion 3. There’s a lot of nonsense making the rounds about what was found and what wasn’t.
“The truth is as follows: The Fourth, that’d be Mobius, did the mission-CAT 44 downside and CAT 43 as backup topside. That’s a lot of people. Nobody called backup-in the best Legion tradition. The mission was bad, and so was the planet. It’s even more hostile down there than it looks. Even without the exos, it’s a struggle just to stay alive, and with the exos it’s quite a challenge. Mobius called it ‘interesting’ and if you know Mobius, you know that’s not the sort of place you want to visit.”
Snow Leopard had our undivided attention.
“Despite this, they had no serious casualties. Two main points. First, the environment was so bad-so noisy-it was not immediately possible to learn much more about the planet than we already know. Command has not yet reached any new conclusions. In other words, anything could be hiding there-even power systems.
“Second, 44 did capture some Dominants. They also picked up live samples of all the other non-indigenous species we have so far identified here on Andrion 2. Testing is still underway, but forget all that speculation about superior intelligence. Initial readout is the Dominants control the other exos through biochem. There doesn’t appear to be anything remarkable about the Dominants, except their ability to manipulate other exo species.”
“So there was no sign of the Systies?” Merlin asked.
“Nothing. But it’s an excellent place to hide. They could very well be there.”
“Then the mission failed?”
“I wouldn’t say so. The Fourth collected a lot of data and it’s undergoing analysis. Conditions did not permit the immediate resolution of the problem. Obviously, they could not physically search the whole planet. They went a lot further than they had to, spent a lot more time downside than planned, and did a lot more than was required. They gathered enough info to keep Command busy for a long, long time. It was above and beyond all the way, and I wouldn’t want anyone in Beta referring to that mission as a failure. Otherwise I’m going to have to volunteer us to do it better.”
“Good point!” My voice almost cracked.
“What it comes down to,” Snow Leopard said, “is that another, even more extensive expedition to Andrion 3 is planned. With luck, we may be on it.” Snow Leopard paused, and gave us a happy little smile.
“I’m thrilled,” Psycho remarked.
“Sounds like fun,” Coolhand added.
“Which brings us to the next subject, the sitrep for Andrion 2. First, the Taka. And by the way, let’s have no more talk of ‘Scalers’. It’s slang, and bad slang, and the Scalers don’t like it…” The tac room erupted in laughter. Snow Leopard flushed a deep red, then stifled a grin.
“I’m sorry. The… Taka…don’t like it, and neither does Firefall. He feels strongly about this, and Central is issuing a directive. Anyone using the term on the tacnet is going to have to explain why, and no explanations will be accepted. So let’s cut the use of this derogatory term. Remember, these people are our allies now.
“All right, the sitrep. We’ve about wrapped it up in the Sunmarch. The Hand of God is still on the loose, but it doesn’t matter. Almost all the Taka in Sunmarch have declared loyalty to us, and we have more auxiliary volunteers than we can use. The Cult is finished.”
Psycho held his hand up, waving anxiously.
“Yes, Psycho. Do you have to wee-wee?” Snow Leopard sounded like he was losing patience.
“No, I, uh…I know I’m going to get in trouble for asking this, but, uh…what’s Sunmarch?”
Snow Leopard looked at him, smiled patiently, and answered. “If you would sleep in your cube instead of on the lounge floor, you would know that Sunmarch is the Taka name for the primary continent here, on which we are operating.”
“Ah, I see. Actually, I knew that. Just checking on you. That was a good answer.”
“Psycho,” Dragon cut in, “will you shut down and let the rest of us listen to the briefing?” Dragon did not get along with Psycho at all.
“Does my existence disturb you?”
“Profoundly,” Dragon responded.
“All right, blackout,” Snow Leopard said. “Now, the lab report on our Systies is out. And they do appear to be Systies. The lifies went over the bodies with everything they had, but didn’t find much. Whoever sent them out took a great deal of trouble to make sure they were sterile. They chose Outworlders rather than some other race, which might have confirmed their status as Systies. All the equipment they carried was ConFree civilian gear.
“They’d both had c-cells, at one time, and both c-cells had been removed. DefCorps implants c-cells just as we do, for ID, health and tracking purposes. The former placement of the c-cells was similar to what we know about DefCorps commando units. The preservatives on the teeth were Systie make. The soil on the boots did not, unfortunately, lead us anywhere.”
“So how did they die?” Dragon asked.
“Heart failure,” Snow Leopard responded, “in both cases.”
“Maybe we scared ‘em to death.”
“Yeah, they got a look at Warhound’s face.”
“No, they spotted Psycho’s outfit and died laughing.”
“All right, blackout,” Snow Leopard cut in. “It’s not funny. It’s likely they were psyched to die in certain situations. And those conditions were met.” We greeted Snow Leopard’s remark in silence. The contempt that the System showed for its own assets scared us. I wondered if the Systie troopers had known about their programming. If they had, it must have been a truly terrifying pursuit.
“So what have we concluded?” Merlin asked.
“Command has concluded that the Systies are here, in this system,” Snow Leopard replied, “and that there’s got to be more than two of them.”
“Well, then, where are they?” Ironman asked.
“We don’t know,” Snow Leopard said. “Possibly Andrion 2, possibly Andrion 3. But Command believes at least some of them are on-planet, right here. And the most likely location is somewhere in the exoseg zone. The exo presence here is certainly tied in with the Systies.”
“Why haven’t we spotted power systems, if the Systies are here?”
“If they’re here, they’re not using power systems.”
“But you can’t run anything without power systems.”
“That’s correct. All right, here’s what we plan. We’re going right into the Forest of Bones.” Snow Leopard flashed a tacmap on the screen. “No Taka have lived there in a hundred years. It’s crawling with exos, and the hives honeycomb the earth. It’s such a massive complex it will probably take months of work to close it down. We’re going in to search for Systies, and to kill exos, and to rescue any living Taka we may find. They feed on living Taka, and we’re not going to give up on the search no matter how slim the chances. The Taka are willing to go down those holes with no armor, hauling tridents and spears. I don’t think we can refuse to help them. This is the area in which Taka history places the first appearance of the exos, which occurred, we have learned, shortly after Star Survey visited the system.”
“Makes you wonder,” Coolhand said.
“Certainly does,” Merlin added. “That means they’ve done a whole lot in a little more than…let’s see…eighty Veltran years, or just over a hundred stellar years.”
“Several generations,” Snow Leopard said. “Considering the short life span of Andrion 2 mortals, nobody living here can remember when there were no exosegs.”
“Snow Leopard, what does Command say about the history?” Priestess asked.
Snow Leopard referred to a miniscreen. “The legends are full of doubletalk. The creatures are associated with falling stars, just as our first captive told us. They came from the Forest of Bones, and they carry their captives away living. There are legends about fearless Taka warriors going down into the hives and rescuing fair maidens. Unfortunately, Taka civilization destroyed itself long before the exosegs showed up, so there was nobody to write a competent history. But Taka history is another story-let’s not get into that. The point is that we’re hoping we’ll find something in the Forest of Bones.”
“There should be something in the history,” I said, “some clue…something more than we’ve learned so far. How can a history leave out something so important?”
“Yes,” Snow Leopard said. “There should be something. We’re debriefing everyone who might know. But nothing so far.”
“What about Moontouch?” I foolishly asked. “Did Command get anything useful out of her? She’s a princess of the Dark Clouds and a priestess of the Book. If anyone in this worldwide lunatic asylum knows anything, wouldn’t it be her?”
Snow Leopard hesitated, as if choosing his words carefully. “Command was ecstatic when they found out about your princess.”
Priestess stiffened and I wondered if Deadeye had broken his word and told more than he should.
Snow Leopard continued, “Unfortunately, like so many other things on Andrion 2, it didn’t work out like we’d hoped. The lifies are convinced that she’s either completely insane, or she’s smarter than they are and is holding back. The general consensus was that it was probably a little of both.”
That brought several low chuckles.
With a completely straight face, he added, “Command also noted that she seemed quite…fixated on you, Thinker, and that if the right opportunity presented itself, you might be able to get more out of her.”
It took Snow Leopard several attempts to bring the meeting aback under control. Psycho and Dragon took every opportunity thereafter to ride me about my “princess.” Worse, Priestess seemed distinctly unhappy.
It took me two days to track Moontouch down. I found her in a tent of treesilk, attended by Taka warriors armed with spears. Cleaned up and obviously well tended-to, she was even lovelier than I remembered. She offered me tea, and lit some incense. I declined the tea and told her what I wanted. She agreed to take me to the Loremaster.
Moontouch led us to a swamp and at dawn on the third day, we glided over its still dark waters in a Sunrealmer canoe. Eight of us shared the boat: Moontouch, myself, Dragon, Deadeye, and four Taka warriors, Moontouch’s Dark Cloud bodyguards. They rowed the long, slim, graceful boat, which had been carefully crafted from fine woods.
Warm morning mists drifted past us. It was sultry and quiet. We could only hear the birds, crying out as they rose to meet the sun, and the faint liquid chunk of the paddles as we slid through the water. The eastern sky slowly lightened while the west remained a cold, dark blue. Tall watertrees filled the swamp, forming a tangled roof of dark foliage. It came to life, burning crimson and gold, flames of sunlight running from branch to branch.
I leaned forward to speak to Moontouch. “It would be faster by aircar.”
“It cannot be, Slayer,” she responded. “One must approach the Loremaster with respect. It must be in a boat, at dawn.”
“Is it much longer?”
“Soon, Slayer. Soon.” She had been saying that for hours. It had been a long night. I glanced at Dragon. He checked his tacmod. We knew our location exactly-in the heart of what the locals called the Swamp of Lost Souls. Fully armed, Dragon and I wore litesuits and A-vests. Our comtops hung from our U-belts. Sweat trickled down from my temples. It was going to be a scorcher. Deadeye wore camfax and the other Taka were in skins.
We softly glided up to an ancient, massive pier of stone, now covered with moss and vegetation. A solitary pier in the heart of the swamp, jutting out from a tangled jungle rising from the mists. Ghost ships dock here, I thought.
“We are here,” Moontouch informed me.
The Taka tied the boat up at the pier, and we carefully climbed out. The pier proved slippery, moss and wet grass on crumbling slick stone. The overhanging trees muffled our voices. Dawn burned in the branches above us.
We followed a footpath into the jungle. Eerie clacking noises monitored our progress, and strange jungle creatures hooted and whistled from the tangled canopy above. Dragon and I had our E’s slung over our chests, ready for instant use. The noises of the jungle seemed to meld together into a staccato harmony. I walked behind Moontouch. She wore a short tunic of fine white cloth, and carried a jeweled knife at her waist.
“Here was Southmark,” she said, “proud citadel of the Golden March, city of many tongues, Queen of the Island Roads, Fortress of Flags. This was a great center of learning and culture.”
She gestured off to one side. “The Imperial Library of Southmark rose there-four levels, with the knowledge of the ages. The history of my people from the dawn of time was stored here.”
I could see only jungle, great ancient trees rising up from a misty floor. “What happened to Southmark?”
“Southmark fell before the Horde,” she recited, “flying white flags. Golden walls and crimson streets, in the Year of the Storm. And Southmark was no more.”
“What about the library?”
“Burned to ashes,” she answered. “And the ashes scattered to the winds.”
“Who were the Horde?” I asked. “Beasts?”
“No. We are guilty. The Horde inherited all that Southmark had been. My own ancestors. They burned it all.”
A few shafts of golden sunlight flickered through the forest roof, illuminating a ruined temple covered with vegetation. Burning history-I could not imagine a more heinous crime.
“Do not grieve for Southmark,” she said. “Every nation writes its own end.”
The dead city was cloaked in trees, the roots crushing the stones, merciless, relentless constrictors of living wood, shattering the past. We climbed crumbling staircases, hidden under a tangle of vines, then into the forest, trees rising in rows to either side of us up to a flowery jungle canopy flaming golden with the dawn.
The Loremaster squatted on a shattered marble block before a small campfire, an old man attended by two young boys. Naked to the waist, clothed in rags, his leathery skin was burnt brown by the sun. He had a medallion at his neck, the same as Moontouch’s. He squinted at Dragon and me from a deeply wrinkled face, as if he had trouble with his vision.
He offered us bark tea, a medicinal potion we knew to be clear and light and faintly stimulating. The boys produced stone cups, brown with age, and poured the brew from a battered kettle. It tasted slightly bitter. Moontouch made the introductions, and explained that we wanted to know about the origin of the exosegs.
The Loremaster blinked at me with cold, black, animal eyes and slowly sipped his tea. He suffered from advanced age, a mortal’s disease-easily cured. To me, it was a horror from the Age of Chaos, and the worst possible way to die.
The Loremaster spoke in a brittle, cracked voice. “Slayer from afar, you seek forbidden fruit. The lore of the past is sacred, and easily lost. We guard it like a treasure. Only with knowledge can you understand the past, and you have no knowledge. You are violence, blowing in from the dark like a rainstorm in the night.”
I broke in before Moontouch could interrupt. I could deal with this tough old bird. “We come in the dawn, Loremaster, with respect. I want the knowledge to help your people-if we can understand the origin of the Beasts, we can kill them all and bring peace to this world. We have already stopped the Cult of the Dead. With your help, we can stop the Beasts as well. If you do not help, many more Taka may die.”
“Peace,” the Loremaster said. He cleared his throat, and spat off to one side. “You will kill them all, for peace. Our destiny is to die. The Taka are not afraid of death.” He took another sip of tea, defiant.
I decided to try the direct approach. “Where did the Beasts come from?” I asked quietly. The Loremaster held out his cup, and one of the boys poured in more tea. The boy was very pretty-smooth skin, clean hair-just like the other one. I wondered about that.
The Loremaster sipped tea, and spoke, his gaze far away. “In the Year of the Burning Trees came the first of the falling stars. They fell into the Forest of Bones, and the night sky was red. The Woodmen went to see, but the Woodmen did not return. Then came the Beasts, touched by Death’s black hand, to seal our doom. And the stars continued to fall, and more Beasts came, stealing our people away. Such is the fate of our race. Doomed to die, we kneel before the Beasts.”
I put down my tea, and glanced at Dragon. He did not seem overly impressed. I certainly would not want the Loremaster guarding my back during any disagreement with the exos. He sounded like a devotee of the Cult of the Dead-kneel before the Beasts! Kneel and die, better him than me.
“Has anyone ever returned from the Forest of Bones?” I wanted to keep him talking.
The Loremaster paused, and his eyes dimmed. “The warrior Longwalker, of the Grass People, returned from the dead with the virgin Starlight. He dared the Forest of Bones, and found his way with fire into the House of the Living Dead. He fought the Beasts and freed the virgin and raised the Phantoms of the March. They climbed to the sunlight, and left the dead behind, and visited the land of the living, and touched their mortal kin. And then, cursed by the Gods, Longwalker and Starlight journeyed together into the wilderness, into unknown worlds.”
The Loremaster returned to his tea, his face expressionless. Interesting. Falling stars, and more falling stars. The House of the Living Dead I knew, having visited it myself. And he used fire-smart! Also necessary. Starlight must have been quite a girl. Yet somehow I doubted that Longwalker went in alone-he must have had a little help. Like the Taka equivalent of a CAT force. But something about the story bothered me.
“What did Longwalker see in the hive?”
“He found his way with fire into the House of the Living Dead. He fought the Beasts and freed the virgin and raised the Phantoms of the March,” the Loremaster repeated.
“What does it mean, ‘the Phantoms of the March’?”
The Loremaster’s face clouded over, impatiently. “The March of the Sun, Slayer. The Golden March, when the Men of the Sword carried their flags to the Southern Sea. This is the March-there is no other March.”
“But what does it mean-Phantoms of the March?”
“You have heard the Past, Starman. ‘He fought the Beasts and freed the virgin and raised the Phantoms of the March.’ I am only a Loremaster. I tell you the Past, as it was written. I cannot tell what it means. The Gods have the meaning-ask the Gods.”
Moontouch appeared distressed that I was not satisfied with the Loremaster’s words. When we left him behind, she whispered to me, “Follow me, and trust me. I will take you into the past, and all your questions will be answered.”
She led us to what was clearly a secret place, a crumbling temple hidden behind whispering trees and a collapsed wall of green mossy stones near where the Library had been. Her Dark Cloud escorts waited outside the wall, but Moontouch motioned Dragon and me to follow her.
Deadeye waited with the others, but his face was dark. “Be careful, Slayer-guard your back!”
Moontouch ignored him. I knew the problem-it was sacred ground, the temple of the virgins, and no Taka man would dare set foot within these walls. But the rules didn’t apply to Dragon and me, creatures from another world.
A stone fountain stood, cold and dry, in a courtyard full of wild grass. It led up to a roofless building covered with wild flowers. Three silent Taka girls appeared from the shadows, blinking, wearing dark cloaks, golden slave necklaces at their throats. Moontouch turned, and spoke.
“My sisters,” she said. “Children of the Book. We live here, in the past. You two are travelers from the future. Be wary of the road-watch your footing.” Her eyes darted past mine, expressionless.
“And you,” I asked. “Are you also a child of the Book?”
“I am an interpreter,” she responded. “I am the delegate from the past-I am the voice of the dead.” A shaft of morning sunlight played with her face-skin of golden silk, high delicate cheekbones, her eyes flashing like black diamonds, her hair rippling over her shoulders.
The girls brought a black cloak for Moontouch. She slipped it on. Dragon warily watched the girls and the trees. One finger rested on the trigger of his E. I knew nothing would get past him.
They apparently lived here, in a cold damp chamber that still had a roof. The floor was covered with pillows and blankets of fine woven cloth and delicate jeweled scale-work, but the bare walls rotted with age and moisture.
The girls added some branches to a smouldering campfire in a corner, and wisps of blue smoke curled up to escape through a crack in the roof. An ancient slab of dark wood served as a table. The girls served a warm pink tea brewed from flowers, in tiny silvery cups. Moontouch raised her cup, and her eyes met mine.
“May you return.” She swallowed the tea in one gulp. I did the same. It was light and fragrant.
“You sure this is a good idea?” Dragon asked, hesitating.
“Try it,” I replied. “You want to live forever?” A private joke-Dragon had overused the phrase during our worst days in Hell. Dragon frowned, but downed his tea. The three slave girls gazed quietly at Dragon and me. Beautiful, tender children of the dark, blinking their eyes and wetting their lips with their tongues.
“Did the Loremaster tell us everything?” I asked Moontouch.
“Words,” she replied. “He is the fountain of words. He remembers all. He is the Book, and the History. He is the Master, and the Way. He looks into the past, and sees the future.”
She did not answer the question, I noted.
“What did you think of him, Dragon?” I asked.
“I think we can do just fine without his help.”
“Yeah, so do I,” I confessed.
“Let’s just forget him, all right?” Dragon urged me. “This was not one of your better ideas. I don’t believe a word the old creep says.”
But I could not forget the words. “Moontouch, tell me about the Woodmen.”
“Cutters of wood, Slayer. They dared the Forest of Bones, when the stars fell.”
“Can you tell me more about Longwalker, or Starlight?”
A cloud seemed to pass over her lovely features. “There is no more to tell. He was a mighty warrior, proud and fierce and strong. She was a virgin princess, and her beauty shamed the sun. Together they defied the Gods, and stopped the world in its tracks. Now they are dust.” Her eyes glimmered with unshed tears.
“The Loremaster said Longwalker ‘raised the Phantoms of the March’. What does it mean?”
“Words,” Moontouch replied. “Words have many meanings. Believe only what you can touch. Come with me, Slayer! Into the past, into the dust and the dark. I want to show you my world. I want to show you the Book. The Phantoms of the March are all around us. Come with me, and face the past. You can raise them yourself-now!” Proud, defiant, she got up and hugged her cloak around her tightly.
Such an invitation was not to be refused. I rose. Dragon started to get up, but the three slave girls put their slim arms around him invitingly-they wanted him to stay.
“Dragon should stay here, Slayer,” Moontouch commanded. “We are only shadows, but he is alive. He should not risk the wrath of the Gods.”
“It sounds shaky to me, Thinker,” Dragon said. “You should have some backup, and I’ll chance the wrath of the Gods.”
“It’s all right, Dragon,” I replied. “It sounds interesting, but she doesn’t want you along. You stay with the honeys. I’ll see what it is, and I’ll squawk if I need you.”
“She’s not all there, Thinker! You’d better be careful. Like Deadeye said, watch your back. You sure you don’t want me?”
“I’m sure. The girls should keep you amused. But stay alert!”
Dragon relaxed, and turned his attention to the girls. “Well, I’ll try to spread some goodwill. But keep in touch.”
“Tenners.”
A slick stone staircase descended into the cellars of the temple, covered with oozing green moss. Moontouch carried a torch of oil-soaked rags, just ahead of me. It smelled of ages long past, and things long dead.
“If you fall into the past,” Moontouch warned softly, “you may never come back.”
“I’ll be careful,” I replied. The staircase became circular, slowly coiling down into the black. I was conscious of the crackling of the torch, the grating of our feet on gritty wet stones and the drip of moisture from the ceiling. It was a lightless, dead world, cold and damp. Moontouch was my guide on this expedition into the past, a flickering shadow.
The staircase led to a gloomy hexagonal room of thick columns and stone walls, an empty doorway in each wall. The torch spat and hissed, and black shadows leaped wildly all around us.
“Which doorway?” I asked.
“Three of six,” Moontouch responded. “Three of six, where the stairwell ends.” She paused at one of the doorways. She turned to face me, and a fiery river of light from the torch flickered off her face. Her features glowed like a mirage, hovering in the dark. “The others lead to death. Follow me closely.”
A very narrow passageway led into the dark. I banged my head on the ceiling immediately, and had to crouch down to proceed. Moontouch proceeded ahead of me, with the torch.
Just when it was closing in on me, we came to another room, considerably smaller, roughly circular, with a roof close overhead. It filled with smoke from the torch. Moontouch laid a hand on my arm.
“Do not move, Slayer. Look at the floor.” She held the torch up, so I could see. Black pits, man-sized, set in the stones of the floor. Four of them.
“All right, now what?” Tons of stone surrounded us, and I hated it.
“Three of four, Slayer, in the room of pits. And the others lead to death.”
“Well, what are we waiting for?” I hissed it, impatiently.
A phantom smile for an instant, flickering over her lips. “Follow me.” She chose one of the pits and jumped in, feet first.
Gone in a flash, taking the torch, the glow immediately faded from the pit, darkness rushed into the room.
“Oh, no!” I leaped for the pit and hurled myself in after her. She’s crazy! My back slammed against stone and I found myself sliding almost straight down, my boots scraping against slimy stone, something smashing against an elbow, a wild ride down the gullet of a great stone beast. I landed in a shallow pool of water with a splash, the orange glow of the torch flickering around me. Moontouch stood calmly before me, holding the torch high.
“Follow me, Slayer. The road to the past is long, and perilous.”
I got up, shaken. “Moontouch. Don’t do that again. Stay with me, can you?”
“We are together, Slayer, walking into worlds long gone. Slayer and Moontouch, phantoms in both worlds, shadows in the mist, walking with the living and the dead.”
Spooky!
Another long tunnel, cloaked in cold and rot, peeling walls and slimy floor, Moontouch’s torch flickering up ahead. We walked through endless rows of arches, built into the corridor. Between the arches, black rectangular openings lined the floor, all along both walls, hundreds of them. I did not want to know where they led.
Tired of all the mystery, I flicked on the light in my E, and the corridor lit up. Frozen in all its awful glory, every rotting little pebble glared white-hot in the light.
“No, Slayer! Turn it off! You will confuse me, and we will die!”
I killed the light, my eyes dazzled, slowly adjusting again to the smoky torchlight. She had sounded rather insistent about it. “I’m sorry, Moontouch. I wanted to help.”
“No help, please! This is my world, and you cannot help. I am counting, and if I count wrong, we die. Quietly now, follow me.”
“Thinker, Dragon. How about a sitrep?” My comset crackled suddenly. I had not contacted Dragon since my entry into the maze.
“Nothing to report, Dragon. How you?”
“I’m engaged in a little cross-planetary communication, Thinker. And I don’t want to hear ‘nothing to report.’”
“Don’t follow me in here, Dragon. No matter what happens.”
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. It’s just that I would recommend the guided tour. Solo trips are not encouraged.”
“You call me when you need me, Thinker.”
“Tenners. Thinker out.”
Moontouch paused, one hand against the left wall, poking the torch down to examine the floor. Wisps of smoke curled all around her, and for a moment, in the dim, flickering light, she seemed trapped in some in-between dimension, not quite here, not quite there.
“We are here, Slayer.” She raised her eyes to mine, glowing, excited, transformed.
“Good. Where’s here?” I could see nothing except another stone arch just ahead, and another dark opening in the floor.
“This is the Gate to the Past. Twenty and six on the left, through the avenue of arches.”
“What if we kept going?” I asked. “What’s up there?”
“Death.”
“What if we chose another hole?”
“Death, Slayer.”
“And if you counted wrong?”
“Death.”
“Why don’t we go back and count it again, just to be sure?”
“No, Slayer. I am sure. Now you follow me. We must be quiet, for this is the realm of the gods.”
The slot in the floor was just barely wide enough. We faced another wild slide down into the unknown. Moontouch went first, with the torch-a rush of sparks, then blackness. Pausing at the abyss, I made the sign of the Legion, and released my grip.
A screaming adrenalin rush into the dark, things flashing past beside me, my arms gripped tightly around my E, hugging it to my chest. I landed suddenly, hard, in a soft orange glow. Moontouch stood beside me, a princess of fire in the dark, flames licking along the torch. Her black hood was thrown back, her lovely face revealed. Red-gold skin, eyes of ice, glowing, ecstatic, raising the torch.
“Look, Slayer. Look!” A fierce whisper.
The torchlight flickered softly in a large chamber; smoke stung my eyes and inky shadows teased my vision. An odd element wafted on the smoke, but then I glimpsed something to the right-against a wall, the glint of beaten gold, a faint dark line of steel. A yellowed skull, in the helmet of a King. A skeletal arm, revealed through fragments of rotted cloth. A hand of bones, grasping the pommel of a dark jeweled sword. A skeleton King, still on his throne, reigning over the Kingdom of the Dead.
Moontouch moved the torch. Another one, beside him, a warrior King, clothed in black rusted iron, a massive axe over his bony shoulder, the vacant sockets of his fragile skull staring into the ages. Once an unholy terror, his word was law, and a movement of his hand brought life, or death. Now his bones were turning to dust.
It was all fading into the dark-I could barely see in the dim, smoky light. A long line of Kings, still on their thrones. There was a hollow roaring in my ears and the chamber appeared to be slowly spinning around me. I shook my head to clear it.
The torch moved, the shadows moved, torchlight glittered off a floor covered with glorious relics from ages long lost to history; the opposite wall now came into view. Another Emperor of the Dark, another immortal, a grinning skull, holding court in a pile of dirt littered with ancient tools of war. And beside him, a skeleton Queen, clothed in gold and jewels. Had empires risen and fallen, at her whim? Now even her name was lost. A garland of fresh flowers hung from her tiara. Both walls were lined with the dead. A thrill of horror shot through my veins. I could hardly breathe the hot and musty air, and the smoke from the torch was really starting to bother me.
“The Tomb of the Kings,” Moontouch whispered. “They are all here, all the Kings and Queens of Southmark. They live still, here, in the past. I keep them alive.” Her face flushed and unshed tears gleamed in her eyes. She, a servant of the dead, a slave of the past, was helpless before the terrible bony fingers of those ancient Kings. I understood, completely. For I was a slave of the future. How strange that we should meet like this, in this holy place, in this faraway world.
The walls revealed faded golden runes and mysterious figures, phantoms from a lost world, frozen forever all around us. A magnificent panorama of the Kingdom of Southmark, everything these Kings had ruled. The ceiling glowed faintly with strange gods. At one end of the cavernous room, a single skeleton slumped on a dark, austere throne.
“Who is he?” I whispered.
“He is the Golden Sword,” Moontouch replied softly, “who led the Far March and built Southmark with mortar made from blood. We can never forget him.” She raised one arm, and turned her face away. “Look upon his glory, and despair.” His bones were almost black, crumbling into the ages.
Crazy, I thought. I was sweating, but she wasn’t. I guessed she was used to it. Why is it so damned hot?
“I must show you the Book,” she said suddenly, raising her head.
The Book! The Book of the Men of the Book-her holy writ, never seen by non-believers. Surely this would hold the secret of the Beasts, and lead us to the Systies. She led me to a stone ledge, full of ancient books. Southmark’s history! My heart leaped. What a find!
“Here is the Book of Books,” Moontouch whispered. “There is only one. Here is everything we believe!”
It was truly a magnificent book, a massive volume, bound in a thick cover of leather and metal and precious stones, placed on a small platform. Golden runes spelt out the title. The sign of the crown and the skull, engraved in gold. Cautiously, I opened it. Dust seeped out, hanging in the air. Pages of dust, all dust, a book of dust. I turned to Moontouch.
She stood beside me, hypnotized before the Book. She leaned forward and blew slightly, a faint whistle, raising a little cloud of dust.
“History, Slayer,” she hissed. “Look! A thousand years has just vanished. A little more goes each day, even if you do nothing. Try it, Slayer. Blow away the past!” The light of madness showed in her eyes. I closed the book, slowly.
History. Yes, I had found history, hundreds of ancient books, but the pages had all turned to dust. Only the titles remained, intricately inlaid in gold on the leather-bound covers. Moontouch translated some of the titles for me: History of the World, Our Heritage, Glory of Southmark, Annals of the Kings, Tales of the Golden March, Voyage to the End of the World…all dust, all that Southmark had ever been, lost and vanished and gone, forever and ever and ever. My head was spinning. I leaned on the ledge for support.
Moontouch reached down to the darkened floor and picked up a skull. I slowly realized that bones littered the floor, hundreds of skeletons, all jumbled together, a ghastly harvest of vanished souls. My mind was working very slowly, I thought-everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. Moontouch held the skull before me, bringing the torch closer.
“They were a harsh people. When a King died his servants died, too. They were killed right here, in the tomb.” She spoke dreamily, the torchlight transforming the skull into an evil mask. “Look at this one. Who knows how many ages have passed since this one breathed and hoped and loved. I wanted to eat the past once. I wanted to swallow the past, and grieve in the dark for all those who went before, for all those who are lost forever, and never remembered. Now I feel they are more real than I am. I am only a servant in the House of the Dead.” Her words were hypnotic and I watched her in fascination. She touched the skull gently to her cheek and swayed dreamily, her eyes closed, mourning the dead. Tears streaked down her cheeks.
Stunned by the enormity of the place, I felt trapped in a stale bubble of the past that had somehow slipped through time, a secret, unsuspected black hole, where even a soldier of the Legion could tumble into ages long lost to history, and maybe not ever come back. A hot wave rushed through my blood-something was wrong, I knew, but I felt calm, almost sedated.
Moontouch was trapped. She would never come back. She clutched the skull to her throat, holding the torch up, swirling gently to her own music now, eyes closed, singing softly to herself, dancing with her long-dead lover, clad in the cloak of death. She was lovely, absolutely enchanting. I wanted to pull her out of that evil world, out of the past and into the future. Has she ever known love, or just despair? I gently took the torch from her hand, and reached over to the nearest King, and propped up the torch in his bony fingers. Moontouch ignored me, clutching the skull to her bosom, continuing her terrible dance. She was humming now, entranced. I pulled her to me, and took the skull from her grasp, and dropped it to the floor. Her eyes fluttered open in surprise. I loosened the cloak from her shoulders and it slid to the floor, revealing a sleeveless knee-length tunic.
She who had entranced me, eyes of mystery, her lovely mouth opening in surprise. I slipped a hand behind her neck, hair of sweet soft silk, smooth tender flesh, and she was swaying in my arms, so lovely I thought my heart would stop.
I kissed her gently, hot and sweet, and pressed my cheek against hers. I could taste her tears on my tongue. Taste the living, Moontouch, taste the living!
The torch flickered, and orange torchlight ran over her lovely skin as the skeleton King patiently lit the scene, and long black shadows darted all around us. I wanted to tear the tunic from her body but I did not seem to have the strength. My fingers clutched at the material. Moontouch was calm. She was so lovely it was almost supernatural-I grew dizzy and weak and I wanted to fall to my knees and worship her like a Goddess. Surrounded by death, she was a nova of life, glowing with beauty. I pulled again at the tunic, puzzled that it would not come off. What was wrong with me?
“No, Slayer,” she gasped weakly. “I am a Virgin of the Book-I belong only to the Past.”
“No, Moontouch. You belong to me. You said so. Don’t you remember?” I whispered. My mind was working very slowly. I could not understand why she did not remember. She had said clearly…
I tried to pull her to me, but now the entire chamber spun slowly around me, fading away. The tea, I thought-the tea! Moontouch gazed calmly into my eyes now, raising one slim arm towards me…and then I fell into the dark.
###
I drifted back to consciousness through a severe headache, blinking my eyes painfully as a soft light roused me. I sat up abruptly-I was resting on a bed of silken pillows on the floor of the Temple of the Virgins. One of the temple girls dabbed gently at my forehead with a wet cloth. Dragon stirred beside me, attended by another girl. It was dawn-the third girl appeared with a metal tray stacked high with teakettles and plates of fruit. Incense smoked in a corner.
“Dragon!” I exclaimed. “What happened?”
“I told you not to drink that tea,” he said, squinting and touching his head gingerly. “Damn! That’s potent stuff!”
The girls gathered around us and offered cups of steaming liquid. I pushed mine away rudely. I sure didn’t need any more of what they were pushing. The girls faintly smiled, treating us with great reverence.
“Perfume!” I exclaimed, touching my neck. “And my clothes-they’re moist-as if washed! But what happened, Dragon? What happened to you?”
“Well, all I can say is I hope you had as good a time with Moontouch as I did with these three. I mean, I don’t remember exactly-I was about to make my move when everything just kind of got all blurry and-well, I’m not sure. But it was terrific-I remember that much!” He reached out and touched one of the girls. She gave him a dazzling smile.
“Where is Moontouch?” I demanded of the temple girls. “Where is she?”
They bowed low and one of them whispered in Taka: “Your wife prays for you in the Tomb of the Kings. The dead will walk by your side, through this life and into the next. All of the power of those who have gone before will be yours to wield, oh mighty Slayer.”
I pondered this for a moment, stunned. “Dragon.” I finally said. “Can we try to keep this, um, kind of quiet? Can we?”
Dragon laughed. “You can count on me, Thinker. But we’ll have to tell Snow Leopard something.”
“We’ll tell him something, all right. Don’t worry.”