Krull. Part 15

"She's a good woman, but in that, at least, I think it's plain for anyone to see that she's failed."

"Perhaps my betrothed is not lost but has fled from the sight of me. All the village girls tease me about it."

"Then they are equally blind."

Page 60 "You think it, too, don't you?"

"No, I don't think that, Vella."

He watched as the hood of her cloak was pushed back from her face. Somehow she'd avoided contact with the soot from the cook-fire. Her hair tumbled bright and l.u.s.trous about her face. Her beauty put Merith to shame.

Her att.i.tude seemed to change. In place of the demure, shy servant girl there suddenly stood before him a confident young seductress. The moonlight drifting down through the trees gave her face an exotic cast.

When she spoke again, her voice was full of new confidence. Confidence, and something else: barely concealed desire.

"Tell me truthfully. Am I not worth returning to?"

Colwyn's eyes moved from hers and he cleared his throat, which was suddenly tight. He tried to think of other matters: of Ynyr on his mountain and what ordeals he might be undergoing; of Lyssa in her distant prison and what must await her. He did this because the longer he looked at her standing supple and anxious there beside him, the harder it became to think of anything else.

, He'd been a long time alone. There had been the furious ride from Turold to Eirig, the tension attending the ultimately inconclusive wedding ceremony, the battle at the White Castle and Lyssa's abduction, and all that had subsequently befallen him since he'd set out to rescue her.

But Lyssa was far from this wood, and he was very tired.

Where the devil was Ynyr?

He found his gaze turning back to the beautiful peasant girl. Suddenly even Ynyr seemed very far away....

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 pa.s.sed 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 pa.s.sage 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 pa.s.sageway 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 pa.s.sageway. Perhaps she'd tripped some concealed switch. In any case, there was the threat of the Slayers urging her onward. She ran forward.

The pa.s.sage 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 pa.s.sageway 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 fas.h.i.+oned 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 s.h.i.+vering from a sudden chill, which did not come from a cold breeze. Carefully she retraced her steps until she was pressed61 tightly against the warm wall that had admitted her. She could retreat no farther.

At first it was only a sound-a faint, brus.h.i.+ng 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 p.r.o.nounce, 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 ma.s.s 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 superst.i.tious 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.62 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 a.s.sume 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 amus.e.m.e.nt, 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 s.h.a.ggy 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.

But who was the lithe young woman who clung so tightly to him, and whose embrace he did not reject?

She whirled to confront the Beast. "It's a lie! You say you can a.s.sume any form. I have heard of how you manipulate faces and bodies as easily as a sculptor plays with clay. Why should I believe that that"-she gestured at the image before them-"is any more real than the form you cling to now? You are as full of lies as a solicitor. You think to fool me with clever prevarication, but I am not so easily swayed."

"Indeed you are not, for you refuse the evidence of your own eyes. These walls do not lie. I have no reason to deceive you now, not when the truth works for me. Your Colwyn will betray you."

"He will not!"

"Then he will die," said the Beast calmly. "Either way, you will be rid of63 this silly, immature human infatuation. It will simplify your future."

Lyssa turned back to the image, unable to tear her eyes from it. Go away, she shouted silently! Vanish, disappear! I don't want to look upon you. But the image did not vanish, and she continued to stare at it.

The woman in Colwyn's arms was crying. Lyssa noted out of the corner of an eye that the Beast seemed to be observing the scene with equal interest. Even as she stared, the pale blue of the woman's eyes turned to black. Lyssa would have screamed save that she knew her warning cry would go unheard. Black eyes-as black as those of the Slayers, nearly as black as those of the Beast. The woman was something other than she appeared, and Lyssa had no way of alerting Colwyn.

Vella clasped the man tightly against her. She could sense that he was wavering, but still he resisted. "I have not held a man in my arms since my lover was swallowed up by the sea. It is good. You are a strong man, Colwyn. Lend me some of that strength."

"I know how painful it is to be far from the one you love," he murmured uncomfortably. "We share a common pain."

"Then, comfort me for one night, and let me comfort you. Share your strength with me, Colwyn. Have pity on me."

"Would that I might, but I can't betray my bride."

"One night is no betrayal. None need know what transpires in this place. I have listened to your men talk, and they say you are not truly married yet."

"It is true the ceremony was not finished."

"Then how can you speak of a betrayal?"

Colwyn's hand moved to touch first his chest, then his forehead. "Betrayal is more than a word. It is a thing that lies here and here. Not in the loins. I could comfort you as you desire, but you are wrong when you say none would know of it. / would know. That would be betrayal enough. I feel sorrow and sympathy for you, but I do not put aside a great trust so easily. Nor love. I can't take comfort with you when my true love has none."

"You will not, then?"

"Vella, in another time, another place, another existence, I would gladly lie with you. But that would be a different Colwyn, and you would be a different Vella. I cannot."

"Truly, I would be a different Vella," she whispered. Her right hand was behind him. It blurred, distorting. The fingers extended and the soft flesh turned to a horn-tough, scaly substance.

Lyssa could not stifle the useless scream in her throat, but Colwyn could not hear her as the claw rose toward his neck.

It stopped there, hesitating. "My master told me," Vella muttered with difficulty, as though talking to herself unwillingly, "make him betray her. If he will not, kill him."

Colwyn frowned down at her, his eyes telling him one thing, his ears another. But he'd already learned that where possible manifestations of the Beast were concerned, it was best to trust nothing, least of all one's own senses. He jumped away from her, his hand reaching toward the dagger at his belt, ready to cry out and alert his companions.

Yet still, sweet little Vella stood before him. Not even the inhuman claw she showed him changed that image, though his mind knew better.

"Yes," she said tightly, "he is my master. These talons were a heartbeat from your throat. I could have killed you in an instant."

"Could have." He did not draw the dagger, though his fingers hovered near the hilt. "You're still crying. Are those tears manifestations of the Beast as well as that claw?"

She wiped at her eyes and her voice was confused and angry. "They could be, but they are not. Nothing is as I was told it would be, nothing is as it seems.

Uncertainty rules all. I long for the comfort of chaos." She smiled at him and her expression was distorted and torn. Her face seemed to blur as he looked at her.

"I am his creature that he fas.h.i.+oned too well. To tempt you he had to make me human, and in making me human his hold strayed. Now I am neither human nor his. I am a cruel joke, a pitiful jest." The smile broadened, giving her face a lopsided look. "I have had an hour of life, an hour of love, and this is better than all the days I have spent as his creature. That love is life for you but death for me. The last joke is on him, and that is best of all. I cannot comfort you, Colwyn, nor you me, but neither will he be comforted. Remember me."64 In the Fortress Lyssa turned triumphantly to her jailer. "It is you who are betrayed, by a thing of your own making. Power is fleeting. Love is eternal. You cannot even control your own creature. Do not think to control me."

The Beast's only reaction was to wave a hand at the opening in the wall. The pulses of light from his body increased in frequency and intensity. The gap closed, shutting out the scene in the distant woods, but not before Lyssa had watched the unwoman Vella crumple and die. Poor thing, she thought. Neither human nor monster, but stuck somewhere pitifully in between. Better to die than live a p.a.w.n's life. She wondered if she'd have had the strength to make Vella's decision.

"Show me Colwyn again. Show me his reaction." There was no response from the Beast. Could it be that his powers to bring distant scenes near was limited? It must be, else Colwyn would have no chance to approach undetected. His lack of response encouraged her.

Then she was backing away as the false Colwyn shuddered and expanded. The red eyes bulged and rose. Once more the Beast confronted her in its true form.

"You are ignorant in the ways of power, Lyssa of Eirig. There is power such as shattered the wall behind you, power such as that which initiated and ended the brief existence of that slave-and then there is the power to withhold the use of power.

"Consider then this power. If you consent to join with me and be my human queen, I will halt all the attacks of the Slayers. It is in your power to stop the killing and burning. Each hour you delay, more people will die. Think hard on what I offer you. No more fields sent up in smoke, no more villages destroyed, no more children trampled underfoot. Delay and a little more of Krull perishes. Consent and guess how many more will live. An interesting game, is it not? , "Take all the time you wish. You cannot escape from here, nor can your lover save you, for he cannot even find this place. Relax and consider the number of deaths that can occur in an hour, in a day. You might even save his life, for at your consent I will call back all the Slayers.

"It is better, Lyssa, to exercise power than to abjure it. Better to be a G.o.d than a martyr. I leave you now to idle contemplation." The red eyes turned away from her. She could not see a far door open, could not hear one close behind her captor, but she sensed that she was alone once again, sealed in the room that could be marriage chamber or tomb, according to her own wishes.

She made certain he was gone before she buried her face in her hands.

Pressing her back against the wall, she slid slowly down until she was sitting on the cool floor. She sobbed softly and steadily.

Hurry, Colwyn, she thought. You've already proved him wrong once this day.