Yurth Burden Part 6

"This is of Kal-Hath-Tan?" she asked. She s.h.i.+elded her eyes a little with her hand. It appeared, she thought now, that the colors held the torch-light, brightened it. It certainly could not be only her imagination that her eyes smarted as if she had gazed too long into some source of light far stronger than the torch.

"I do not know. It is unlike anything I have ever seen. It-it seems as if it should have a meaning of importance, and yet it does not. Only there is the feeling. . . ."

She did not know how sensitive one of his race might be to influences designed by his own kind. But that this place made her more and more uncomfortable could not be denied. The sooner she-they-found a way out the better.

"Which way do we go?"

Stans shrugged. "It seems to be a matter for guessing."

"Right, then." Elossa said quickly, since he made no move to do any of that guessing.

"Right it will be." Almost like a fighting man on parade he gave a half turn and started right.

The pa.s.sage was much wider, they could walk abreast without any difficulty. But they went on in silence. Elossa took more and more care to keep her eyes strictly ahead, trying not to glance at the bands of color. There was a pull there, like the beginning of some illusion.

Also, the farther they went, the wider the bands became. Those which had been the width of a finger at the point where they had broken into the pa.s.sage were now palm size. Others could span her arm, shoulder to wrist.

The colors could not glow any brighter, but their change from one hue to another was far more abrupt, creating a dazzlement which reacted more and more on her sight. She walked now with hands cupping eyes to cut out the side view.

Perhaps it was affecting Stans also, though he said nothing, for he was quickening pace, until they moved at a steady trot. As yet they had discovered no break in the walls, and in the shadow beyond the reach of the torch the way seemed to continue endlessly.

Elossa uttered a small cry, staggered toward the wall on her right.

Yurth call-so loud and clear that he or she who had uttered that cry might be standing just before them. Only there was no one there.

"What is it?" Stans' hoa.r.s.e voice held a note of impatience.

"Yurth-somewhere close. Yurth and danger!"

Now that she was so certain that they must be very close to that which had drawn her here, Elossa called, not with the mind-send this time but uttering one of the carrying summons which her people used in their mountain faring, each clan having its own particular signal.

There was movement in the shadows which lay ahead. Stans held the torch higher, took a step or so forward to see the better.

A figure, yes. Human in that it stood erect and came walking toward them. Elossa's hand arose in the greeting between Yurth and Yurth.

Yurth in feature the stranger certainly was. But his clothing was different. In place of the leggings, the coa.r.s.e smock, the journey cloak, all of drab coloring which made up the uniform body covering of her kind, this newcomer's slender form was covered with a tight- fitting suit which left only the hands and the head from the throat up bare. It was of a dark shade which could have been either a near black-green or blue, and so fitted to the flesh and muscles it covered that it seemed another skin.

She had seen such before.

Elossa's hands tightened on her staff. Yes! This she had seen before, both in the pictures painted by the hallucinations guarding Kal-Hath-Tan and in those she had witnessed in the sky s.h.i.+p when she had learned the true meaning of the Yurth Burden. This Yurth wore the dress of the s.h.i.+p people-as if he had not been here generations but had this very hour stepped from his s.p.a.ce voyaging s.h.i.+p, now half buried in the earth which was Raski world.

"Greeting. . . brother. . . ." She used the speech of her people, not the common tongue which they shared with Raski.

But there was no lightening of expression on that other's face, no sign that he knew her as one of common heritage with himself. Rather there was a glitter in his wide-open eyes, a set to his mouth, which awoke in her the beginnings of uneasiness. She tried the mind- speech.

There was-nothing! Not a barrier, just nothing she could touch. Her amazement was so great that she was frozen for a second or two, while the hand of the Yurth moved, bringing into line with her breast a rod of black which he held.

"No!" Stans crashed against her, the weight of his body bringing them both down on the hard stone under their feet with a bruising force. Across where she had stood moments earlier there swept a beam of dazzling light. Heat crackled through the air so that, even though Elossa lay well below where the beam had sped, still she felt the touch of its fire through her thick clothing.

It was not the shock of the attack which had rendered her helpless for the moment, rather the understanding that nothing, no one, had fronted her. By the evidence of the mind-send there had never been any Yurth there at all! But the weapon? That had been no part of any hallucination-surely it could not!

She gathered her wits, struggled against the hold that Stans had on her. There was no Yurth-there could not be! She pulled around to find she was right. The pa.s.sage was empty. But-on the floor-only a little beyond where she lay now with Stans' weight still half over her, was the tube weapon the stranger had carried.

"He. . . it. . . is gone!" Stans loosed her and arose to his feet. "What. . ."

"Hallucination." she said. "A guardian. . . ."

Stans bent over the tube but did not touch it. "He was armed-he shot fire with this. Can a hallucination do such things?"

"Such can kill, yes, if he or she who sees them believes that they are real."

"And they carry such weapons-real weapons?" Stans persisted.

Elossa shook her head. "I do not know. It is not known to my people that they can do so." She eyed the tube. It had not vanished with its owner, or user, but still lay there, concrete evidence that they had been fired upon.

To take that up would equip her with a weapon far better than any defense she had ever had. But at the same time she could not bring herself to touch it. She got to her feet, leaning on her staff for support Stans reached for the tube.

"No!" she cried sharply. "We do not understand the nature of that. Perhaps it is not of our world at all."

Stans sat back on his heels and looked up at her, frowning a little.

"I do not understand this talk of hallucinations. Nor can I believe in a man who stands there, fires death at us, and then vanishes, leaving his weapon behind. How does Yurth come into the Mouth of Atturn, and what does he here, besides striving to put an end to us?"

Again Elossa shook her head. "I have no answer for you. Save that it is best not to take to yourself anything such as that" With her staff she pointed to the tube. "And. . . ."

But she just caught sight of something amid that banding on the wall. There was a difference in the texture there-yes! And directly across from it, on the opposite side, another such spot. She reached out with her staff and, not quite touching the wood to the wall itself, outlined a square on either side about breast high and the size of her two palms flattened out together.

"Look!"

Stans slewed around at her command, gazing from one side of the corridor to the other.

"Did not the Yurth stand between these two?" the girl demanded.

His frown deepened. "I think so. But what of it?"

"Perhaps not a hallucination." She was trying hard to remember fragments of old stories from her people. Though they had never spoken of Kal-Hath-Tan and the Burden of Yurth to those who had not made the Pilgrimage which set upon them the seal of responsibility and maturity, yet they had tales of long ago. She had always known that there was little in common between her people and the world on which they were uneasy prisoners. They had had a far more glorious past than they dared hope to achieve ever again.

On the buried sky s.h.i.+p she had learned just how adept the Yurth had been in strange powers. It could be that what they had seen here had not indeed been a hallucination after all, but a real Yurth transported by some means now beyond her comprehension to defend a hiding place against Raski invasion-transported by mechanical means and now returned to his hiding place.

If the Yurth in such concealment had had no contact with the rest of their people then to such a one she would seem a Raski even as was Stans, thus an enemy. How could she communicate with these hidden Yurth?

But, why had the mind-touch registered as if there had been no one there? Could she begin to imagine what powers these s.h.i.+p people had had in their time-the knowledge they had put aside when they had taken up the heavy burden of what they believed to be their great sin against this world?

"If it were not a hallucination," Stans broke into her absorbed whirl of thought, "then what did we see? A spirit of the dead? Do spirits then carry weapons which they can use? We might have been cooked by that fire!"

"I don't know!" Elossa snapped, out of her own ignorance and awaking anger. "I do not understand. Save there are plates on the wall here and here." Once more she indicated those with her staff. "And he whom we saw stood between them." Now she dared to use her staff to probe at the rod on the floor, turning it over. Even in the limited light from the bands on the wall they could both see now that, though it had thrown a lethal beam at them, it could never do so again. The under side of the cylinder so exposed showed a hole melted, as if some great heat had eaten away the metal.

"It must have been very old," Stans drew the first conclusion from that evidence. "Too old to use-as old as the sky s.h.i.+p."

"Perhaps." But the useless weapon was not the important thing. That was the appearance of the Yurth, and that cry for help which had brought her here. She had not been mistaken in that. Somewhere Yurth still had being and was in danger.

"You must know more," she rounded on Stans, "of your own history seeing those of your House were pledged to watch Kal-Hath-Tan, to seek out Yurth who came and demand satisfaction from them for your city's death. Where we stand you say is the Mouth of Atturn. Who is or was Atturn? What had Yurth to do with such a place? If this was a temple. . . ." She drew a deep breath, remembering now some of the things which had flitted ghost-like through the mounds of Kal-Hath-Tan-the hunting to horrible deaths of the s.h.i.+p's people who had tried to render aid to the city they had destroyed by chance. Had Yurth been dragged here, to be sacrificed in torment to some Raski G.o.d or force? Was that the plea, sent thundering down the years by dying men and women, which indeed lingered now to entrap her also?

"Was Yurth blood shed here?" She ended her demand harshly.

Stans had risen once more to his feet, though he kept a careful distance, she noted, from the two plates in the walls, apparently having no desire to pa.s.s between those.

"I do not know," he answered quietly. "It may well be so. Those of Kal-Hath-Tan were maddened, and they carried into madness their hatred. I cannot remember anything of Atturn nor why I was drawn to the Mouth. In that I speak the full truth. Enter into my mind if you wish, Yurth, and you will see that is so."

He called her "Yurth," she noted; perhaps their precarious partners.h.i.+p might not long survive. But she did not need to obey his suggestion and mind-probe. It was an offer he would not have made if he had anything to hide. The Raski hated too much the powers they believed Yurth used ever to speak as he had except in complete truth.

The corridor still stretched ahead. To retreat might be the way of safety. Only with the Yurth call still in her mind Elossa could not take the first step back. Too long had those of her blood been conditioned to support each other, to answer to such a plea with all the help they might give.

"I must go on." She said that to herself rather than to the Raski But now she added to him, "This is no call that you are in honor pledged to answer. You saved me from flame death which some manifestation of my own people turned upon me. If you are wise, Stans of the House of Philbur, you will agree that this is no quest of yours."

"Not so!" he interrupted. "I can no more turn from this path than can you. What drew me to the Mouth still works in me."

He was silent for a breath or two, and when he spoke again there was the heat of anger in his voice. "I am caught in something which is not of my time. I know not what power holds me but I am surely as captive as if I wore the chains of an overlord on my wrists!"

He was eyeing her with the suspicion and rage which had been a part of him when they had fronted each other in the sky s.h.i.+p. The fragile meeting of minds which they had carried from that encounter might be entirely broken, Elossa decided unhappily. To face the unknown with a potential enemy by one's side was to compound all peril lying in future. Yet surely they were tied together in some strange fas.h.i.+on.

"It would be best," she suggested, "not to pa.s.s directly between those." Once more she indicated the plates on the wall. Crouching, she obeyed her own warning by going on hands and knees under the setting of the squares. Without hesitation the Raski followed her example.

They went more warily, Elossa herself now keeping a keen eye on the walls, glancing ever from one side to the other, in search of more such insets as that which had marked the coming of the Yurth in s.h.i.+p's clothing. She retained a close rein on her mind, blanketing down as best she could all emanations which another might pick up if some wide-flung mind- search were in progress.

According to the message left in the sky s.h.i.+p the development of Yurth talent had been a latter thing with her people, a deliberately fostered attribute which the s.h.i.+p's equipment had set upon them after the great catastrophe. Perhaps some of the Yurth who could might have fled before that plan had been enacted, might have escaped similar development. Yet the call had been on mental level only.

Even if there had been a body of survivors from the s.h.i.+p come into hiding here in the heart of these mountains, how many generations were they away from the first of the refugees? The man she had seen wearing the s.h.i.+p's clothing-clothing which looked untouched by time. . . . No, he must have been an illusion.

They went warily, at a pace which gave them a chance to survey carefully the pa.s.sage ahead. That continued to run straight, the color lines on its walls, growing wider until their edges met and there was no neutral background to be seen. Elossa felt an ache develop behind her eyes; to survey those colors as she thought it needful to do hurt so that her eyes teared and smarted.

In a queer fas.h.i.+on the colors themselves made her feel ill and she slowed yet more, finding it necessary to pause now and then, closing her eyes to rest them. Stans had said nothing since they had started on, but suddenly he broke the silence between them: "There is-"

He had said no more than those two words when, in the air, suspended without a visible support, there appeared a mist which whirled about, gathering substance as it moved. From a small core it grew larger until it filled the full pa.s.sage from the rock under their feet to that which roofed them overhead, spreading in turn from one side wall to another.

As it solidified it became the same monstrous mask which had surrounded the mouth hole giving pa.s.sage into this underground territory. The eyes of the mist face held the same malicious glitter-even, Elossa thought, more awareness than those set in the rock. Once more the mouth was agape as if providing a door to some threatening way beyond. Though through it she could see no spread of the corridor, only deep darkness.

"Atturn!" Stans gave the manifestation a name. "The Mouth-it waits to swallow us!"

"Illusion!" The girl countered with a firmness she could not altogether feel.

There was a stir within the open cavern of that mouth. Though the rest of the face was now appearing very solid, the mist which it formed no longer moved as far as she could see. Out of the opening there licked a tentacle of darkness, as if some great black tongue quested for them.

Elossa, without thinking, reacted on the physical level, stabbing at that with her staff. Then she realized her mistake. One did not fight such as this with force of arm-rather force of mind. But before she could ready such counter the staff had pa.s.sed through the tongue without any visible effect. And that lash of darkness closed about Stans, closed tightly and clung. In spite of his efforts to free himself, the Raski was drawn forward to where the lips quivered, awaiting him. There was an avid excitement in the eyes of that face, a kind of terrible greediness to be read about the waiting mouth. Atturn would feed and flu's food was now within its power.

Elossa caught at Stans, taking firm hold of his shoulder. There was no disguising the pull which drew him with a strength which they could not match, even linked in common struggle. But the girl needed that contact in order to apply her own answer.

"You are not!" She cried aloud in her mind to that face. "You have no being here and now! You are not!" She launched her arrows of denial even as she would have sent ones of wood, metal-tipped, from a hunting bow. If only Stans could help her! This manifestation must be of Raski, even as the other had been of Yurth.

"It is not there!" she cried aloud. "This is a thing of illusion only. Think of it so, Stans! You must deny it!" She returned to her own fierce denial by force of mind.

The strength of the tongue appeared limitless. Stans was nearly at the verge of those lips opened even wider to engulf him, while Elossa had been drawn also through the hold she kept on the Raski.

"You are not!" Now she both cried that aloud and thought it with all the force she could summon.

Was it only her imagination, or did the awareness in those great eyes flicker?

"You are not!" She had not said that. It was Stans who had uttered that breathless, low cry. He had stopped fighting against the loop of darkness about his body, instead, with upheld head and defiant gaze he faced the eyes boring down at him.

"You are not!" he repeated.

There was no general loosing of his bonds. Instead the face, the tongue which held him, the whole of the illusion vanished in an instant between one breath and another, so quickly that they both stumbled forward, carried by the very impetus of their resistance when the source against which they fought disappeared.

Not only had the face which barred their pa.s.sage vanished, but so had the pa.s.sage itself. Those smooth walls with the bands of color winked out. In their place was a sweep of dark on either side. The torch which they had forgotten when they had worked their way through into the band-lighted pa.s.sage was no longer alight to give them any idea of the extent of this pocket of deep dark.

Elossa stood very still, s.h.i.+vering. She had the impression that they were no longer in any confined corridor. Rather there must stretch about them, for some distance, an area which might hold deadly snares for any who blundered on. The fear of the dark unknown which was bred into her kind sought now to send her into panic, and she needed all the resources of spirit she could muster to remain self-disciplined, turn in upon what senses of hearing and smell she might draw upon, since sight was denied her.

"Elossa." For the first time her companion spoke her name. She was startled in that his voice seemed to come from some distance away. Yet, though that one word echoed hollowly, there was no trace of fear in it.

"I am here," she returned, schooling her own voice as best she could to the same level. "It remains-where are we?"

She nearly cried out as, from the smothering darkness, a hand fell on her shoulder, slipped down her arm. until fingers found and tightened about her wrist.

"Wait. I have still the fire-strike." Those fingers which had gripped her, perhaps in mutual rea.s.surance for an instant, loosed hold.

She heard the click-click of what could only be a striker in use. There followed a small flare of flame. That grew and she saw, with a thankfulness she did not try to put into words, that Stans had not abandoned his torch, though she had not remembered now seeing it in his hands as they pa.s.sed along the corridor.

Such a small light hardly pressed back any of the dark. Still it illumined their two faces, and, in a way, built up a measure of defense against the pressing blackness. Stans held it between them for a long moment as if so to rea.s.sure them both that they did indeed have it. Then he swung it away, out before them, nearly at shoulder level.

The flames flickered, leaped and fell. Elossa could feel against her own cheek currents of air which puffed, flowed, then were gone again. But the light did not touch any wall, on either side, before, or behind. They might have been dropped on a wide open, lightless plain. Under foot was a solid surface of dark rock, the only stable thing they had yet sighted. Had the corridor been entirely illusion? Elossa, for all her awareness of how the conscious mind might be manipulated and tricked, could hardly accept that. If it had not been illusion in entirety then how had they been transported into this pocket of eternal night?

"There is a current of air. See, the torch," Stans said. "Our best guide may lie with that."

It was true that the flames were blown away from the head of the brand he held. His suggestion was undoubtedly the most sensible one. They turned to face that current, the flames pointing toward their own b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

But they kept their pace slow. Now and then Stans paused, holding the torch out to this side or that. There were still no walls to be seen. Finally the light shone out on the lip of a drop. There the Raski lay belly down, to crawl cautiously to the edge of that, holding the torch out and down. There was nothing to see below but a chasm apparently so deep that their light was quickly lost in it.

Yet it was from across this that the current of air blew.

Stans sat up. The small part of his face Elossa could glimpse by the weaving flame was set. However, she saw no suggestion of wavering or weakness in his frowning gaze as he turned his head slowly from left to right surveying the rim of the drop on which they crouched.

"With a rope," he said as if more than half to himself, "we might try descent. We cannot otherwise."

"Along the edge then?" Elossa was privately very dubious that they would find any way of bridging that gulf. On the other hand there just might be a faint chance that the break itself would eventually narrow so that a leap could take them over.

He shrugged. "Right or left?"

It was all a matter of chance. One way might be as good as the other. During the moments of rest here she had been sending out short mind-probes, striving to find even the most minute suggestion of other life here-life which might have its own paths and ways to reach again the surface of the world she knew. The puzzle of the Yurth cry for help still troubled her mind.