Something touched her mind, something at once very frightening and very powerful; yet it seemed more curious than threatening. For a moment she feared that she’d gone the wrong way and touched those in Hell itself, but she was powerless to do anything about it. Little probes seemed to tingle all over her mind, unlocking memories and sensations long dormant or unused, and she knew that whatever it was, it was finding all it needed to know, but she had no way to talk to it or to even ask any questions. She had the distinct impression that it could not have answered her if she’d had that ability. This was something new, something totally alien.
Suddenly there was a blaze of light, and she knew she was back in the temple once again, yet not quite a part of it. She seemed to float above the floor and was not conscious of having any physical form at all, but that seemed irrelevant as she had no control over her movements anyway. She entered the generating system and flowed with it forward, until she was the electrical system of the entire temple. Power had been restored inside when experts had figured out a way to decouple the temple’s power from the city’s, and everywhere that energy flowed Suzl was, sensing all of the great building and its contents at one time. Despite being very frightened by it all, she still thought the whole thing was neat.
In one room, Cass was sound asleep over a bunch of papers. There was one of the temple intercoms nearby, and suddenly it began to buzz irritatingly, awakening the sleeper. She reached up groggily and flipped the switch. “Yes?”
“Exactly this time tomorrow night I will turn off the sector known as Temple Square,” said an eerie, electronic voice that was somehow still familiar. “This condition can be tolerated for only one minute exactly or the structure of Anchor itself will be endangered.”
“Who are you?” Kasdi shouted back, flipping the switch. “Who is this?”
“This sector condition will resemble what you call the void, but it will not be. It will be raw energy. All in the square will have to be suspended, and I will retain control. Because of the intricacy of the action, I can sustain no more than four of you. Move from this center straight forward until you reach Anchor as quickly as possible, for when sector stability is restored, all will be as it was, but none in the square will be aware that any time at all has passed. This is the best I can do without endangering the lives of everyone in my district.”
The voice was strange, oddly distorted, but she suddenly realized why it was familiar. “Suzl?” she asked wonderingly.
“The remote operative, which you call the Soul Rider, will be needed to fully act against the shield. It must be along. Destroy any one of the devices or its operator to create a necessary thinness. The translator will give you the necessary formulae. Remember, exactly this time tomorrow on my mark.”
She frantically flipped the switch over to “talk.”
“Wait! Tell me who or what you are!”
“My mark is—now. Farewell.” And the intercom went dead.
Suzl found herself withdrawing from the omniscience of the temple as if she were water flowing down a drain. She had understood every word said in both directions, but she hadn’t uttered any of them.
The creature, or whatever it was, withdrew, and suddenly she found herself standing back on the chalked-in gate once again. She looked down at herself and saw that she glowed with a faint energy. She frowned and went back over to the stairs. Her body crackled when it walked, but it was undeniably hers again and it tingled, or itched, like crazy. She touched the metal handrail and got a real shock that stunned her and flung her back. “Yow! Damn it!” she screamed in pain, bringing several of the soldiers running.
“It’s the mute,” one of them called. “Something happened. I thought she was long gone.”
“Mute, my ass!” Suzl screamed back, then sat up, feeling numb. Suddenly she looked up at them and frowned. “Hey! I can talk again! How about that! Hot damn!” She paused a moment. “I need a drink and a good cigar.”
The message had been heard through all the intercoms in the temple, although only Kasdi’s could talk back, and it wasn’t until she had answered that it had spoken. A fair number of higher-ups, including Matson, had already gathered in the refurbished gym to discuss it when Suzl was brought in.
She told them her story, sparing nothing. “I don’t know what it was,” she concluded, “but, damn it, Cass, it lives in here. I think it always has. It lives down deep, under the temple. Hmmm . . . Do you think I just had a religious experience?”
“Not you,” Kasdi assured her. “We’ve already sent for Mervyn and some of the other experts. Let’s try and sort it out.”
The old wizard was totally fascinated by the account. “The best I can guess, and it’s only a guess, is that you are the first person to meet the Guardian face to face, as it were, and survive.”
“I almost didn’t. That was a hell of a shock,” Suzl grumped.
Using a lot of witnesses, they put the message back together and were reasonably satisfied that they had it right. Fortunately, the military mind being what it was, quite a number of people had checked the exact time on their chronometers at the “mark” statement. All but three of them said 2209. That was sufficient to order those three to check their chronographs.
“This fits with what I saw in the tunnel,” Suzl told them. “This and the other three Anchors are nothing more than Fluxlands stabilized by that gadget down there instead of by a wizard’s mind. You figure this Guardian is the mind behind it?”
Mervyn shook his head negatively. “I seriously doubt if a being like you describe would build a machine. Use one, perhaps, but not build one. You know, this brings back memories of Kasdi years ago. She was turned into a bird and imprisoned in this very temple, and she somehow got out and was transformed into a Flux creature with Flux powers. Remember?”
Kasdi nodded. “I remember nothing from being turned into that bird until I emerged as that flyer.”
“I suspect our Guardian was responsible there as well. It fits. We will have a lot of work ahead to consider all the implications of this.”
“But now is not the time for that,” Matson put in. “At 2209 tomorrow, this thing claims it’ll sort of turn off the whole square and all that firepower. Four of us will have exactly one minute to dash across to the other side and then be on our own. If we can believe it, the forces out there won’t know anything happened. Do you think we can trust that?”
Mervyn nodded. “We have no reason not to. And, of course, if it doesn’t happen, nobody has to make the dash. The real problem is who must make it. The Soul Rider would be necessary to neutralize Coydt’s machines, the thing said. Suzl, you know what that means.”
“Hey! Spirit would be screwed in this kind of set-up! And we got a month-old baby!”
“Nevertheless, she must come. And so must you. You are obviously the translator it spoke about. Can you still remember the language Spirit and the Soul Rider use?”
She thought a moment, then mentally shifted gears, using the linking spell as a guide—and found she couldn’t speak or understand the rest of them again. She thought consciously and hard and willed herself “back”—and suddenly she could understand the comments once again. “Yeah. But it’s total. One or the other, not both at once.”
“It is sufficient. The Soul Rider knows the complex spells needed to punch the hole, but obviously must first see what it’s up against to devise them. It will then feed them to you and any other wizards along, and you will use them.”
She shrugged. “I’m game, but, damn it, Spirit will never go for it. And what’s gonna happen the first time she stands up in plain view to follow a butterfly, even if she did?”
“You must convince her—and keep her under control. Otherwise, we must give this place, and eventually this world, over to Coydt and the others.”
“She-it,” Suzl grumbled.
* * *
Suzl had no choice in convincing Spirit but to trust to the Soul Rider. She took Spirit off where they could be alone, leaving little Jeffron with a nurse, and after the predictable failure to really explain the situation to her, she sat back and decided that what worked accidentally for the Guardian might work for the Soul Rider as well. Both were certainly kin, and both were apparently living, thinking creatures of pure energy, as hard as that was to grasp. They were not the same, certainly, but both could communicate with humans and understand them far better than humans could communicate with them.
She tried sending the story, the impressions, of her experience using what she called “Spirit language” to the Soul Rider through the linking spell, but didn’t seem to get anywhere. Finally she decided on a last measure, and together they walked into the Hellgate, which Suzl had requested be cleared temporarily of any traffic.
Bathed in the flow of massive energy emerging from the vortex, Suzl took hold of Spirit and fed that energy into the both of them. No one else could do this, she’d found, but the Spirit language was the key to it all. Suzl executed the spell that the Soul Rider had sent her that first day, the one she knew would have the desired result. She metamorphosized, changed back into what she had been, a creature of gross deformity, but a creature with what was necessary.
Emotion was the key, and intense emotion was the medium. Strong, overriding emotions blocked rational thought, concentrated all on one specific to the exclusion of all others, and, if strong enough, they blocked thought altogether while maintaining a direction—like love, or passion, or whatever focused the participants excusively on each other. Hate was also an equally strong focus, as were the other emotions taken to extreme. This, however, was the easiest and the most pleasurable route.
They joined physically, but also, thanks to the language, amplified by the proximity to the direct full flow of the gate vortex, they joined mentally as well on all the levels it was possible to join. The Soul Rider understood, and used that, as Suzl had hoped it would.
And then another joined them there in the Hellgate itself, a creature that looked as if it were an unbearable ball of light out of which fiery tentacles of pure, crackling energy whirled. The two humans did not see, nor were they now permitted to.
For all its history, which was the history of World, the Soul Rider had seen a Guardian only once before, when, riding the body of Cass, it had been plucked from imprisonment in Anchor by the creature. At the time it had acted but had not communicated. Now it reached out again, hoping against hope not only for communication but also to discover if this creature were the unknown source of its directives and commands.
“You have failed, remote,” the Guardian sent. “The fall of Anchor is the worst of all sins.”
The Soul Rider felt elation at the communication, coupled with disappointment that the creature was certainly not its unseen master, unless in total disguise.
“My mission is to seek out those who would open the Gates and destroy them,” the Rider responded. “I would assume the safety of Anchor was your responsibility.”
“No, only its stability, a condition I am now commanded to jeopardize.”
“You allowed one of the Seven to pass into Anchor. Had you not, this might not be necessary,” the Rider pointed out.
“The one you mention knows the pass codes as you do. I was without power to stop him. Where and from whom he learned this I do not know, but he is one of great power.”
“He is in the employ of Hell. I am charged to stop him.”
“Then you must allow the host to pass to Anchor.”
“Her mind is not like other human minds,” the Rider pointed out. “The same one I now seek has put her somewhat beyond my reach.”
“Then I will render the matrix inoperable. My jurisdiction is entirely within this chamber and Anchor, so it will be inoperable only so long as she is within my sphere of influence. Should she pass out of it, the matrix will be restored as permanently as before.”
“That will help, but it will not undo the damage to her mind.”
“You have been with her since she was made operational. I am willing to aid you in common goals, remote, but I will not do your job for you, nor can I.”
“I will do what I can,” the Soul Rider promised, “but you have given me very little time.”
“If it is not sufficient, you are defective and should be replaced. There. It is undone. I leave you now to your own task.”
‘”Wait!” the Soul Rider cried out. “Remain a moment! Tell me what you are, and what I am, and who commands the both of us!”
“We are not supposed to know,” the Guardian replied, and faded out.
The Soul Rider, feeling the press of time, went to work. It couldn’t help but note and appreciate the Guardian’s methods. The binding spell was still there, but it was diverted from her by a thin addition that linked it, somehow, to that great machine over to one side. The machine took in the power from the vortex and changed and split it, stabilizing the four Anchors and, in fact, the Hellgate itself. So long as Spirit remained in areas under the control of that machine, the spell would be drawn off, diverted to it and rendered harmless. It was a tenuous thread, however. Once back in Flux, the small link would be broken, and it would take the Guardian again to restore it. Somehow it doubted that the creature who operated the machine would be so inclined.
Because the Soul Rider had lived inside Spirit since birth, it had its own duplicate set of memories and impressions. These could be read back in, but selectively, and subtly altered. It did not wish to withdraw the power from Suzl, as Suzl was clearly better temperamentally suited to it and would continue to have a direct link with the language of the Soul Rider itself. Spirit, then, must remain with Suzl, and Suzl needed to retain her own personal anchor. That meant fabricating a set of false memories and impressions that would take Spirit logically to the emotional, passionate love and commitment to Suzl and away from her heterosexual base. It was rather easy to do to someone you had already made fall in love with the same person anyway and made keep that love when that person had become a grossly distorted creature.
It was also necessary, and only fair, to convey the ground rules as much as possible to both of them. That was far more difficult. It longed for the Guardian’s powers of communication, but had to content itself with what it had. The Guardian, after all, had never experienced the joys and pains of living human lives as had the Soul Rider. On balance, it decided that the Guardian was more deprived.
It was done now, as much as it could be done, and the Soul Rider was content. Minor adjustments could be made, but only slightly out of Flux. It would have to do.
It allowed Suzl to awaken first, but time was running on.
13
SHATTERED HOME
Suzl sat in the tunnel and tried to sort it all out. Certainly her scheme had worked, but the information she seemed to have from somewhere was a little unnerving. She could see the tiny diversionary spell trailing off from Spirit to the machine, and that confirmed the truth of what she knew.
When Spirit woke up, she would be free of the spell—so long as she went to Anchor Logh and remained there. Only Suzl would retain the machine language ability; Spirit would be back among the humans once again, and that worried Suzl no end. How would Spirit feel? Towards her and everything else? Quickly Suzl changed back to her human form.
Spirit moaned, rolled over, and opened her eyes. For a moment she seemed unable to focus or even grasp where she was, and she looked puzzled. Then she sat up, looked over at Suzl, and shook her head slowly. “What a strange, strange dream,” she rasped, and the shock of hearing her speak, of hearing her voice for the first time, was great, even though Suzl had expected it. “My throat hurts.”
“If you feel up to it, we can go into Anchor and get you some water and some clothes,” Suzl responded hesitantly.
She shook her head slightly from side to side. “No, darling, just let me sort it all out first.”
Suzl felt an electric shock. Darling! She reached out for a small spell, got it, and materialized a canteen of water, which she handed to Spirit, who took it and swallowed cautiously.
Slowly, everything came out. Spirit seemed to remember her past pretty well, even after Coydt put the spell on her, but after she saw her family in Anchor Logh that last time, things seemed to get fuzzy and less distinct. She remembered feeling lost, alone, confused—adrift, somehow, until Suzl had gone away with her. Every moment after that seemed to focus on Suzl—and the baby. She had no real sense of time or events beyond her personal, basic experiences, nor did she quite understand why she was back—and how.
Somehow, in her memories of earlier times in Anchor, she seemed to believe that she always found women attractive, but had fought and suppressed the tendency, perhaps overcompensating for fear of what family and friends might think. “I don’t care what anybody thinks anymore, though. I love you, and I’d tell all of World.”
Together they went back into Anchor, where they caused as much commotion and excitement as Suzl had, perhaps more. The obvious romantic bond between the tall, lovely young woman and the short, chubby Suzl put many people off now that both were “normal,” although they hadn’t even thought about it in Flux with all the spells. Several things emerged, though, that were certainly different from the Spirit known of old. She deferred almost entirely to Suzl, who was clearly the dominant personality in the relationship, and she seemed rather shy and very passive. She did, however, seem to clearly enjoy being part of human culture once again, to be able to talk and be understood, and, most of all, to understand and use common objects. She seemed deathly afraid that this period of renewed normalcy would abruptly end.
She wanted to see her baby, and they brought the child through to her in the temple. With the child, however, came Sister Kasdi, who wasn’t quite sure how to react to all this. On the one hand, she wanted desperately to talk, for the first time in their lives, as mother and daughter. On the other, the relationship between Spirit and Suzl made her feel almost ill. When Spirit and Kasdi finally faced each other, there seemed nothing really to say. Kasdi just stood there for a while, staring at her.
Matson entered, looked at Spirit, and grinned. “Welcome back to the almost-living,” he said good-naturedly. “I’m your dad.”
That took a lot of explaining as well, with Suzl acting as intermediary as best she could. No family reunion on World had ever had such confusion and hostility mixed together. Matson, sensing this the most, got down to business. “Suzl has explained to you what’s going on?”
Spirit nodded. “I think so. The same evil that got me now has all of Anchor Logh.”
He nodded. “I know we’re asking a lot, but we need you. The odds are it’ll be very dangerous, and the odds are against us ever really doing what needs to be done, but we have to try. No matter what you think of me or your mother, it’s got to be tried.”
Spirit looked down at little Jeffron, sound asleep in her lap. “I understand. I have to be honest, too. I want to stay here and look after our son. I don’t want to go, and I hate the idea of all the death and destruction, but of course I’ll go with you. Suzl tells me that if I leave Anchor, I’ll go back to being like I was—probably for good. I can’t raise him in a fortress. And out there are all the other people I really care about, all at the mercy of that madman. I have no choice. I can walk back out and become what I was, or I can go with you and try and end it all. Of course we’ll go.”
They found shirts, pants, and shoes for the two women, but while the clothing was all right, if itchy and somewhat abrasive, the shoes proved impossible. Both had been barefoot too long, and it was decided that they didn’t have the time to get used to shoes again. Nurses and provisions, should they not return, for little Jeffron were found or fixed, and Suzl, Spirit, and even Kasdi had their hair cut very short so it would not get in the way. Spirit refused all weapons, but did take on a pack as large as the one Matson was going to wear. Matson, too, clipped on his old stringer’s bullwhip and sawed-off shotgun to his belt, while Kasdi and Suzl, whose builds were unsuited for packs, still managed two ammunition belts, strapped X-shaped across their chests, and small, effective semiautomatic rifles. They managed to find Kasdi a black stringer-like uniform to replace her tattered robe, and her spell, which compensated for necessity in the interest of others, accepted it.
Matson looked her over. “You know, if you’d put on a little weight and exercised a little, you’d look almost like you did eighteen years ago,” he noted.
She smiled, thrilled at the compliment, although she knew she looked old and tired. Matson didn’t know, and could never know, the sheer torture she had been undergoing the past month. She was as insanely, passionately in love with him now as she had ever been, and she wanted him desperately. Just to be near him was agony, all the more so because she knew that he would give her at least physical release if she asked him—but she couldn’t ask him, nor accept his offer if he were to make one. She had always had an extremely low voice for a woman and somewhat mannish features and mannerisms, so much so that those who knew her in the old days would not have been surprised if she had taken up with a Suzl, but those were surface items only. She was very much a heterosexual woman in love with a strong, handsome man, and yet her mannishness intensified and her voice, if anything, seemed even deeper, with all traces of femininity in her vanishing as things had gone on.
It was the binding spell, of course, forcing her to do and be just the opposite of what she so desperately wanted to do and be. The trouble was, while she could turn off Matson, she could hardly turn off herself.
Finally, they were ready, and with very little time to spare. The forces outside would be stationed in two equal groups outside the shield. Normally, a shield was supported from a single center point which represented the wizard. This shield, however, was enormous, and supported at least partially by machines, and so there were a number of power points identifiable from outside. Assuming these had to be machine locations, they picked two about fifty kilometers apart along the northern border. This would allow them the luxury of a choice of targets, while still keeping the empire’s forces close enough to support one another and shift positions as necessary. Suzl and Matson knew the city and countryside the least—it had been a long time since they’d been in Anchor Logh, and things had changed, even there—but Suzl was a tough veteran of Flux, and Matson was an expert at military affairs. It was agreed that it would be Matson’s game until they reached the Flux. Wizards tended to forget what it was like not to have or depend on the magic.
“You’ve been briefed on what it’s likely to be like out there?” Matson asked Spirit.
She nodded. “I have met our Mr. Coydt before. I’m sure I can’t imagine the surprises his mind has come up with.”
Matson returned the nod. “What’s he like these days? He was always the real nervy man’s man, anything for a thrill, the riskier the better. And he always got away with it.”
“Still that way the last I saw him,” she replied. “I just can’t imagine how someone so handsome and so brilliant can become so evil.”
“Word always was that something happened back in his childhood. Something that warped him sexually, although he has quite a reputation with some of the ladies and he’s certainly no man-lover. He’s always been a cold-blooded killer and a sadistic wizard, but he has the odd reputation, too, for always keeping his word. If he promises something, he’ll always deliver, whether good or bad. We never knew how he got into some of the Anchors, but he always liked Anchors better than Flux. Flux was too easy for him. No thrill, no risk. He liked to gamble on cards and was pretty good in the joints, but he was as good a loser as he was a winner. I doubt if anybody’s ever figured Coydt out, but if anybody ever did, he’d probably kill ’em.” He looked at his chronograph. “Whoops! Ready, everybody! One minute!”
Kasdi had been standing there, going slowly mad. It wasn’t from what they were going to attempt so much as it was her emotions, and not just for Matson. For the first time she was with her daughter as herself, with no blinders and no spells and no other funny stuff, and she hadn’t been able to find any kind of break or opening at all. She felt as sealed off from Spirit as she did from Matson.
All that was pushed into the background now, though, as the timers ticked down. They were going out the front street-level entrance, to avoid having to run down those interminable steps, and they were going right into the face of a machine gun battery and light artillery aimed straight at them.
Matson went to the door. “At minus two I’m going to throw it open. If it doesn’t take, be prepared to duck and scatter fast. If it’s go, then you, soldier, better slam this door behind us, and fast.”
He looked again at his watch. “Minus ten . . . nine . . . eight . . . seven . . . six . . . five . . . four . . . three . . . two! . . .” The door came open, and almost immediately the machine guns began to open up.
And stopped.
Outside, very suddenly, was nothing but a gray fog. It wasn’t even the void—it was nothing. “Go!” Matson shouted, and they all took off on the run into the blankness, running as fast as they could straight ahead. The surface under their feet seemed hard, almost like rock or cement, but there were no signs of anything at all around them.
The total distance they had to traverse in the minute was a little short of eighty-four meters, a considerable run. Spirit kept hold of Suzl’s hand and literally yanked her along. Kasdi and Matson lagged behind, she feeling the strain the worst, although she’d done a spell in Flux to strengthen her legs. Matson was in good shape, but he was quickly being reminded by his lungs and his muscles that he was not a young man.
The square re-exploded into life around them, with machine guns rattling in back of them, but even though Kasdi and Matson hadn’t quite reached cover, it was a dark night, and there were no lights in the buildings and no electric lights in the square, which was still without power. There were no observers in the rear part of the square either—all attention was focused on the temple.
They went down a street that led to the main shopping district and ducked into an alley, where they found Spirit and Suzl waiting. Matson began coughing and braced himself against the wall for a moment, while Kasdi joined a collapsed Suzl in gasping for breath. Spirit was hardly breathing heavily, and she’d run with a full pack.
Before the rest felt themselves ready, they prepared to move, knowing that the curfew was on, that it was shoot on sight, and that their only chance was to clear the capital and make it to open country as quickly as possible. From this point, they were in Matson’s hands, and they followed his lead, moving down darkened streets pressed against buildings, crossing from deep shadow to deep shadow.
At one point they stopped next to a large poster, and Kasdi took the opportunity to read it.
“PROCLAMATION #10562, MILITARY GOVERNMENT OF THE FREE KINGDOM OF ANCHOR LOGH,” it read. “1. All girls between the age of puberty and the age of 45 shall henceforth be considered indecent unless they appear in public wearing proper makeup, including but not limited to lipstick, rouge, eye shadow, nail polish, body scent, etc.
“2. Proper attire in public shall include jewelry, such as necklaces, earrings, bracelets, pendants, etc., and shoes with heels of at least 7.5 cm.
“3. Proper attire outside of home, farm, commune, etc. for all girls shall consist only of clothing secured from and approved by the Kingdom.
“4. As no handbags or other carryables are permitted, nor the possession or use of cash or commodities for trade (see Proclamations #3126 and 4164), all employers and public places shall have available such items as might be needed for girls to continue to comply with this proclamation on a request basis.
“This regulation will take effect at the end of the curfew on 08-22-02 and will be strictly enforced. Physical punishment is authorized on the spot for all violators.”
Suzl, who’d snuck in and read it as well, gave a low whistle. “Well, I guess we’re all immoral now. Aren’t we, girls?”
“That is the most incredible thing I have ever read,” Kasdi added disgustedly. “That date was three days ago.”
“Well, that’s Coydt all right,” Matson told them. “Still, there’s even a method in this shit. There must be a lot of ex-priestesses and the like around who know all the facts and where to cause the most trouble. This keeps ’em all bottled up.”
They kept snaking their way through the city, often dodging mounted patrols and occasional foot patrolman and having several close calls. The city was well patrolled, but it was not absolute. All of the police/soldiers carried small automatic weapons, though. They would take no chances, that was for sure, and an occasional distant or even nearby burst of gunfire punctuated that point.
There were also some fixed positions on the rooftops, but these were less of a problem once the quartet discovered they were there. It was harder and more nerve-wracking to move through the shadows with the knowledge that any sound might trigger a blast from above, but it was easy to avoid being seen. Cutting the electricity to the city had been the best idea they’d had.