That set them off again. Matson, like many, was stunned. No wonder the wily old bastard was so agreeable to dismantling the communications network! If this crazy, impossible scheme actually worked, the Guild was out of business in the south.
“We have among our ranks many with substantial Flux power, and we have used them in our secondary move— which actually comes first, by a few precious minutes, thanks to General Champion’s foresight. Every known substantive Fluxland is now covered by mass amplifers. When the signal is given, they will begin to direct on those Fluxlands the massed power of the amplifiers and our own adaptation spells that worked so well at Nantzee and Mareh.
Those spells will roll like a great wind into all the lands, immediately followed by the activation of the ancient program. As Flux is transformed to Anchor, the wizards so attacked will find themselves powerless to react or to undo what we have done. Those who survive the onslaught will become as ordinary as you or I, and as mortal. All of this is coordinated by our own Dr. Sligh, whose own communications breakthroughs make it possible for us to time this down to the last tenth of a second throughout the entire cluster. Just one signal will trigger the adaptation and a few seconds later the ancient programs. Our troops have withdrawn into Anchor or outside the cluster. The individual volunteers on the amplifiers are there merely as safety checks and observers. Everything is being handled by what Dr. Sligh calls “preprogrammed remote control.’
Preprogrammed remote control, Matson thought, his heart sinking. Could the Hellgates, too, be opened this way? Now, at least, he understood why Tilghman had insisted on this specific timing for his visit and had been anxious to keep him here. The Judge wasn’t as naive about the Guild as he’d let on. He wasn’t about to let Matson go when an order from the stringer might disrupt the vital communications needed to pull this off. After it was over, the mere elimination of this much Flux would be New Eden’s answer to the Guild. He wondered if they really knew all the consequences of what they were doing, and doubted it.
“I will now give the order to commence the operation.” Tilghman told them. “As soon as it is completed, our troops are ready to spread out and assess the total effect and, hopefully, contact and establish control over the populations affected. Detailed mapping and exploration will come later. I must tell you, though, that we have to trust our ancestors on these programs. Except for the fact that they will not alter existing Anchor, we have no idea what sort of world we now will create, and I find that more exciting than frightening. The protective walls will go up for a brief period here only because there is some indication of a backlash in the air from the change in power. Records state that a very thin lead sheeting will be more than sufficient protection for the less than three minutes required, so have no fear. This is it, gentlemen—the dawn of the new age that will permanently revolutionize World and create a single New Eden so large and so secure that it shall never fall!” He reached down and threw a switch in front of him.
Bells and sirens went off all around them, up and down the wall and behind, as well as on the apron. The winch motor came to life, coughing and chugging and giving off a somewhat foul smoke, but the walls came up dramatically and were soon locked in place. Although the back and top were open, they all felt cut off from reality. Now a second section of the front wall was pulled up creating a roof about two-thirds complete, cloaking them in semi-darkness. Matson felt simultaneous urges to make a run for it or to somehow attack and kill this assembly and break that communications link. He did neither, both because there was really no place to run and because the signal had already been given and there was no chance of stopping it now.
There was a sudden series of loud, terrible explosions that shook them almost off their chairs and rattled the temporary walls. Then there was a great rush of air, a terrible windstorm that swept into Anchor. Below, men and animals shouted and screamed and panicked and the wind picked up every loose particle and whipped it around. Trees and tents toppled, and it grew suddenly very dark, and the temperature- seemed to drop several degrees in a minute. The sound of fierce thunder and the echoes of lightning continued.
Below the wall, those with a view of Flux who were not propelled into emergency action by the terrible windstorm could look out and see startling changes take place. The fixed, familiar curtain of reddish-gold with its sparkles stretching up to the heavens as far as the eye could see was no more; there was now a reddish-brown swirling fog. Observers in the blockhouse on the apron watched as much as they dared in awe as the mass reached the ground, and there was a sudden line of electrical fire moving from the very lip of the apron inward into Flux. As it did so, with increasing speed, the far observers could see the mass of swirling clouds withdraw with the line of energy, as if the whole were some living, alien force.
By the end of three minutes, the entire mass had receded from view of anyone in Anchor, and beyond the apron and above them was no longer void but open sky, mostly gray in color and obscuring the great orb the old Church worshipped as the source of World’s light. It was a turbulent, storm-tossed sky, but it was not such a sky as had never been seen in Anchor.
They all waited anxiously as the shielding walls were carefully lowered, revealing what now lay beyond. All on the platform had been pretty badly shaken up. but aside from a few minor cuts and bruises there was no other damage apparent.
Everyone stood and then rushed forward to get a view. and even Tilghman was forgotten in the crush of the excitement.
There was no more Flux, but there was a true landscape now. The apron, for all intents and purposes, no longer existed, but merely extended into the new land. To the right stretched a vast, unbroken plain covered with tall yellowish grass whipping about in the still strong wind and looking like great waves upon an alien sea. To the left was a far more breathtaking sight: a vast expanse of deep blue water whose great waves washed up on a large but gentle black sand beach. It seemed to stretch out to the southeast as far as the eye could see, and there was a strong and alien salty smell to the air and the roar of crashing waves hitting upon the beach. It was more water than any of them had ever seen in their entire lives, and it frightened and disoriented them.
Huge thunderstorms seemed to be all around, both out over the water and over the great grassy plains, with dramatic lightning that shot from dark clouds and grounded itself on whatever surface was beneath.
Tilghman had been almost bowled over by the rush to the front, but now pushed his way before the awe-stricken crowd. He saw the scene in front of him and froze, jaw dropping, all the color seeming to drain from his face. The plains were familiar enough, and the only surprise was that the program came complete with its vegetation. He had expected to have to plant it or to wait perhaps years for it to grow out. But it was the huge expanse of blue water with its waves foaming and crashing into the shore that truly shocked him. He had never imagined that such an expanse of water could exist. Broad rivers and great lakes, yes, but nothing like this. They should have known, he realized. They should have guessed, at least, that all that water, deprived of conversion back into Flux at the boundaries, would have to collect somewhere—but this much water was beyond comprehension.
Sitting incongruously a few hundred meters beyond the edge of the sea was the master control amplifier that had created this, now clearly visible, its rectangular form having sunk a bit in the soft, moist earth, now a useless relic, the agent of its own obsolescence. The door to the lead-lined operator’s cage opened, and a shaken figure eased himself out and dropped down to the ground, then stopped, struck as senseless as the rest of them by the sight he’d helped create.
The temperature of the air at this time of year was generally twenty-one or twenty-two degrees centigrade; now they began to shiver a bit, for the temperature had dropped fully five or six degrees in the operation and continued to do so. By early the next morning it had dropped all the way down to seven, but it would take weeks before it was determined that the temperature range had altered to a spread of about sixteen for a high to five for a low. They were heading into the warmest season under the old conditions, and hoped that it would hold true now, but no one wanted to think right away about what the cold season’s temperatures might be.
Communications had been severed the moment that the program had been activated, but troops from all four Anchors and from positions outside the cluster now proceeded in to check out the new land and pick up the pieces. Without strings or familiar landmarks, however, it would be slow going, and many would be dispersed or lost. The only thing that allowed them to negotiate the new land was the instant discovery that magnetic compasses, used for generations by stringers as a supplementary aid and known to all, were still apparently drawn tp the Hellgate; but with only that one reference point and the known point of departure, it was going to be tough going.
More difficult was the discovery of just how much of the new area was water—and not fresh water, but contaminated with salt to such a degree that it could not be used for agriculture. Estimates ranged between a third to more than half of the former void now being covered by water, which greatly raised the humidity of the entire region. Clearly the new climate was not only going to be far chillier, but also much wetter.
No one would ever be able to know how many thousands, or perhaps tens of thousands, of innocent people and their arrogant Fluxlords, not to mention stringers, duggers, and travelers of all sorts, were drowned in the massive transformation of Flux energy to water, but bodies washed up on shorelines after every storm for months.
After the terrible shock of the sight had lessened and the men on the platform had regained enough composure to leave, either to investigate this new place or to organize their commands for the aftermath, Adam Tilghman and four bodyguards remained, gazing out on the strange and terrifying landscape.
Matson. too. remained. He would have to travel that landscape soon enough, if he could. He took out a cigar and lit it, then approached Tilghman. The Judge didn’t turn his gaze from the new scene to see who it was, although from the whiffs of cigar smoke he certainly could surmise it.
“Well, Judge, that’s a right pretty trick,” the old stringer said. “Looks like everybody in New Eden’s gonna have to learn how to swim, and it’s gonna be another neat trick to string wires across that.”
“It’s so—huge,” Tilghman breathed. “It must be what the ancient writings call a ‘sea.’ I—I never thought of a sea as anything more than a lake. Nothing like—this.”
“You had all those nice programs and instruction manuals to do all this, but did anybody give you an instruction manual for how to live with it? Those ancient boys, they were smart ones, with smarter machines and a whole lot of experience, I bet. You got the basics all right, but I bet you don’t have any idea what’s supposed to be done next. What kind of fish could live in that stuff.” He sniffed the strong salt air. “You can tell it’s all contaminated water from here. Best that you can do with it is try to corner the salt market. Hell, Judge, didn’t you ever wonder, if they know how to do all this, why they didn’t?”
Tilghman could not turn away, but the question stung him. “What?”
“You know what we talked about. They came here to live, somebody got to chasing them, and they locked the doors—but they kept all their machines and the power to do this. Why didn’t they? Why’d they leave it as Flux?”
“I—I thought the powers of Flux corrupted those who could use it. I—we, all of us, the scientists as well— thought that the first wizards moved to prevent it. It’s the only explanation of why it wasn’t done, and why the records, manuals, and programs were dispersed. They took them into Flux so that no one could enact them.”
Matson puffed away on his cigar. “Uh uh. That’s as good a theory as any, but it might have been different. I don’t have the old history that you have, Judge, but if you look at all this you can see that this sort of thing isn’t a simple kind of spell, it’s the most complicated thing in the universe, maybe. Somebody planned this all out as part of a whole, part of what World was supposed to look like, but then the enemy came knocking at the door. You don’t create a world like you create a Fluxland, Judge. A world’s a zillion zillion elements, all of ’em in some kind of balance and working this way or that together. You got the landscaping for this section right, but not the fine tuning, the finishing touches, the things that make it real nice and homey. You got the land, and the water, and the plants, and maybe the basic animals—judging from Anchor, there’ll probably be insects and that sort of thing. But no big animals, no water creatures any more complicated than those insects or grasses, none of that. I don’t think they had all the programs, as you call ’em, yet. Or maybe it takes a hundred years or so of real careful planning. Maybe they didn’t do it because it wouldn’t work right, and with the door locked they couldn’t go get the rest. Maybe they dispersed all that for the same reason they made it so hard to unlock the Hellgates—so nobody would get tempted to do what you just did.”
Tilghman suddenly turned and stood up, facing Matson. “No! Even if you’re right, it doesn’t matter. What’s done is done, for one thing. For another, there’s every sort of plant and animal, bird and insect, in the Anchors. They’ll spread out there now, and in time, the land will teem with life in abundance. We have the plans for great farm machinery and we have a large population that knows farming, cultivation, and land management. No matter how big and how deep that sea out there is, we’ll learn how to use it and how to cross it or at least how to live with it. There’s still land out there enough for all who want it. The army can police it, but will never be large enough to control it, and the chance for one’s own land will increase pressure for orderly exploration and settlement. You said it, too, Matson. We are not our ancestors. We’re a rougher, cruder, more primitive breed who can learn to build and use ancient technology without being totally dependent on it. The army will be the police, and the stringers, of this new land. We’ll win, Matson. We’ll win, over time.”
“Maybe,” Matson replied dryly. “Seems to me you’ve just proved how easy it is now for anybody to open the Hellgates. The only thing I can say in your favor is that you’ve got a hell of a defensive position now. They can’t use Flux against you so they’ll have to cross overland by land and sea. I hope you have the time to prepare for it. Me, I’ve got to survive without getting lost, starving or freezing to death, and see what happened to my kin in all this. At least they were on the land side near as I can tell, if this big water doesn’t curve around just out of view.”
Tilghman was relieved to hear that at least they probably hadn’t drowned. “Uh—Matson, I don’t know what effect Champion’s business had on them if they did survive. I think we were fair, though. Gave them every warning, every cut.”
The stringer nodded. “Don’t worry, Judge. I’m not coming back gunnin’ for you and New Eden no matter what. As you say, it was their choice, and no malicious intent towards ’em on your part. That don’t mean a lot of others won’t be out to get all of you pretty quick, though. You know that. And it still means I got to find ’em, if I can, and if they’re alive.”
“Just tell the quartermaster below what you think you’ll need and you’ll have it. You’ll make it. You always make it. And, when it’s all over and you’ve reported back, you’re welcome back here any time. It’ll be decades even at our birth rate before there’s enough population to really explore all the possibilities out there. There’s almost anything you could want for a man in on the ground floor.”
“I’m not sure at all that you got decades, Judge, or even years. You just better pray that after twenty-six hundred years that damned war our forefathers shut their door on is long over.”
13
THE NEW LAND
Although its location was kept secret for centuries, Pericles was in a very logical spot for Mervyn, due south of Anchor Logh and exactly halfway from Anchor Logh to the Hellgate. Nothing, however, could be kept a secret indefinitely when determined groups wished to know that secret, and for decades Mervyn had suffered and tolerated a crew of watchers from many groups, including the Seven and New Eden, simply because it was far too much trouble to move and because they still couldn’t get in without his permission and he had not been worried about an attack since. When his forces crumbled the Anchor Logh defense years before, he’d actually gone one-on-one with a very good wizard wielding an amplifier, and fought it to a draw without using one himself. It had been the toughest challenge of his long life and career, but his shield and his sanity had held, and with Jeff or some other adept of great power always around for reinforcement he had dismissed any threat.
The tale of Mervyn against an amplifier was well known, so New Eden had taken no chances with the mysterious Pericles, whose contents they could not know. While the sixty or more Fluxlands had rated only a single amplifier, with a few exceptions where two was thought to be needed, Pericles rated four linked in tandem to a single master program and assaulting from all sides. Those inside would not be fighting an amplified wizard so much as a program, one drawn up by the same machine that Coydt van Haas had first used and developed to create the intricate spells for Spirit, Suzl, and many others, and which New Eden had used for its conversion programs in Nantzee and Mareh. The spell was a twofold affair, beginning with a sudden and simultaneous attack by sheer brute force, all power at maximum, followed immediately by a coercive command spell set at the least common denominator possible. In theory, the shock of the permanent shield being crushed would be followed immediately by the command spell, before a wizard could recover and realize he was under attack and reinforce that shield. The landscape program, following immediately behind, would freeze them in the spell before they could shake it, and they would be set that way with no Flux to call upon to change it.
Most of Pericles had been evacuated as a precaution, along with the most important books, papers, and art, to a temporary location just outside the cluster in Flux, so it was a pretty deserted place now, reminding Jeff, at least, of living in a house where all the furniture had been removed as the owners were moving out. They had tried every way to get Spirit to go, but she was adamant about staying, even though they could hardly explain to her the reasons why. Mervyn finally deduced that it was the Soul Rider, not Spirit, that was adamant, and he gave up. Soul Riders had an insatiable curiosity that often led them to place themselves and their hosts in jeopardy simply to see how it worked and how to get out of it. They, after all. seemed to be immortal, although hosts were not.
So it was that Jeff was lazing in the warmth near one of the ponds while Spirit took a swim, Sondra was tending to the horses in the stable, and Mervyn was going over some new reports from his agents when Tilghman’s signal was broadcast.
Ironically, it was Spirit who received the first, and only, advance warning. The message came in from that mysterious far-off place as it always did, too fast and too complex for her to understand, but now she had a translator. The Soul Rider had made a bigger difference in her life than anything since she’d been trapped by Coydt’s spell. For the first time she had someone she could talk to, even if only in her own head, and it had brought her alive again.
Spirit, you must get out of the pool immediately.
She was puzzled, but she went to the side and hauled herself up and out onto the grass. She thought of the Soul Rider less as a boss than a friend, and she was not compelled to take such advice; but when it came it usually meant trouble and was to be ignored at her own peril.
“What’s the matter?”
The fools in New Eden have activated the landscape program for the cluster. An attack of overwhelming force will be mounted any second now on Pericles, followed by the direct transformation of Flux to Anchor.
She grew suddenly afraid, the memory of the collapse of her own little Fluxland still a nightmare in her mind even after all this time. “Can we warn the others?”
No. The nature of the attack, the landscape program, and the relative powers here present too many variables to be restructured in the time remaining. We can only attempt to repair some of the human damage once it has been done and its strength can be assessed. Brace yourself.
She looked over at her son, half asleep propped up against a tree. Jeff! she practically screamed with her mind.
Incredibly, he stirred, looked suddenly up and around, a confused expression on his face. “Huh? What?”
The blow struck Pericles with a force that was beyond any experience, beyond any level that even allowed for rational thought. The great shield crumbled, and the full force of the master program drove in upon it.
Mervyn was thrown backwards as if tossed by an invisible, giant hand, but prepared and instinctive survival spells came into play before he had recovered even a small part of his wits. The Pericles shield could not be rebuilt and strengthened in the few seconds the attack allowed him, but his personal shield came up immediately, dulling the force to a still terrible yet manageable attack.
The line of electrical fire snaking across Flux crossed the boundary of the four attacking amplifiers and shut them down, but as their attack spell was written, in the same basic machine language as the master landscape program, it was incorporated into the master program itself. Throughout the cluster, the full force of Flux energy existent inside the cluster now included the New Eden spell, and it was not one to be denied by any wizard.
Pericles did not melt and collapse; instead, it simply winked out, leaving a very brief moment of pure Flux containing only the human and animal forms there, and some trinkets with a lead base or alloy. Other than that, everything created by the handiwork or mind of man was reconverted Flux energy and then used again in the master program.
There were, in fact, two writhing, snake-like lines of fire a thousand meters apart, the front line doing the erasing and reconverting and the rear enacting the program itself, but so swiftly did the lines move that no human eye could have seen that.
All humans and animals were stripped bare and frozen as the first wave rolled over them; then the second wave hit, and behind it winked in an entire landscape. In and around Pericles hills and thick green forests winked in at the blinking of an eye. and water rushed through new stream and river beds that looked natural and well-entrenched.
Sondra felt dizzy, weak, and helpless, and slid to what was suddenly a grassy forest floor.
Mervyn summoned all the protection he had to his mind, and when the second line struck he felt horrible, searing pain throughout his entire body. The pain was beyond standing, but the line was past before it could completely break him down. Still, he collapsed on the ground, breathing hard and waiting for the pain and shock to subside.
Like the other two wizards, Jeff’s defenses snapped on automatically, but like Sondra he felt himself consumed by the force and sank down to the ground.
Spirit alone was able to watch it come, although she was powerless to stop it. To her, what was nearly instantaneous seemed to happen in slow motion, and she watched the snaking fire approach and cancel, then roll through and past her. As she could wear no clothing or other artifacts, there was absolutely no effect. The second line approached like the leading edge of a gigantic, invisible artist’s brush that with one stroke painted an elaborate and complex scene as it came toward her. Her own formidable defenses were already on, and were now tremendously reinforced by the complex mathematics of the Soul Rider. The line hit, then passed, and she fell forward as if she’d been standing on a rug that had been suddenly jerked out from under her. Yet the program had somehow ignored her, and she remained unaffected.
Spirit was, perhaps, the only human being not changed or affected by the master and subordinate programs in the entirety of the affected Flux. All others not drowned in the formation of the great sea and lesser bodies of water were left naked, transformed, and bewildered, whether they had been wizards or common people, inhabitants, travelers, or guests.
Mervyn did not understand what had happened or why, but as soon as the shock had faded sufficiently for movement he managed first to sit up, then bring himself to a standing position. Physically he could see and feel that he had changed; his body, even the color of his hair, beard, and body hair, was that of a much younger man. a man in superior shape with bulging muscles and even a rather large and prominent male sexual organ. This hardly fazed him; he had always been able to become whatever he wanted, male or female, young or old, human or creature, and this wasn’t as bad as many of the alternatives, even with the bad headache. More important to him was that he still seemed to be himself; there appeared no discontinuity in his personality, memories, or knowledge—except that he knew such changes would be undetectable, and he also knew he couldn’t count on knowing either way.
He looked around and saw the hilly landscape and forest, and for the first time felt the chill that had settled in. The air was quite damp, beading water on his body if he moved, and there were clouds lower than some of the treetops and wisps of gray fog reaching down here and there to the forest floor. In the distance, he heard the rumbling of thunder.
He heard a woman scream, and instantly shook off his confusion and as much of the headache as he could and made off in the direction of the sounds. About a hundred and fifty meters through the forest and downhill he came upon a confused and frightened young woman he’d never seen before. She was stunningly beautiful, with rich orange-brown skin contrasting with shoulder-length hair, brows, and even pubic hair of pure golden blond. She was quite small and delicate-looking, yet she had enormous breasts and the thinnest waist he’d seen on a woman. When she saw him she rushed to him and clung to him, sobbing. She was fully a head and neck shorter than he, but he had no idea how tall he was so that fact was meaningless. He did, however, find himself feeling a bit embarrassed by it all.
He tried to calm her, then stopped a bit to bring himself face to face with her and took her by the shoulders.
“Easy, child.” he said soothingly. “Now tell me who you are.”
“S-Sondra. sir.” she sniffed. “I—I’m so scared and confused!”
You aren’t the only one, he thought sourly, but aloud he said. “You’re the same Sondra that was here with Mervyn’.'”
She looked blank for a moment, then seemed to decide and tentatively shook her head yes. “I—I think so. It’s kinda hard to remember.”
He frowned. At least there no longer was any doubt about which bastards were responsible for all this. They had managed to reduce a brilliant, highly competent stringer wizard to just another common Fluxgirl. Well, he told himself, it wasn’t a binding spell, being involuntarily applied. All he had to do was get her into Flux to reverse all this, particularly since she still had the memory information. He looked around at the nearly silent forest. But which way was Flux? Did it even exist anymore?
He thanked whatever fates there were that he had evacuated his staff and precious library and artworks during the grace period, and only hoped that New Eden was as good as its word and that this—effect—was limited strictly to the internal cluster area. But where were Jeff and Spirit and what had happened to them in all this?
“Hello!” he shouted as loud as he could, his strong voice echoing among the trees. “Jeff! Spirit! Is anybody still here?”
At that moment he heard a rustling sound that made Sondra jump. Whirling around, he saw two of the horses idly grazing just a dozen meters away. He sighed. Well, that was something, anyway.
He turned back to Sondra. “Tell me—how do you feel? What are you thinking of?” He wanted to get a general idea of what he was dealing with.
She looked at him in some distress. “It is easier not to think, sir. Thinking—hurts.” It was obviously difficult for her to even force through this much of a conversation.
The spell, however, was a basic one, and he had it now. Quite clever, really, since they had to deal with a massive population whose numbers and character were unknown. Physically, the basics were given—not above a certain height, build between certain predetermined exaggerated parameters, hormonal levels pushed to unnatural highs, and then a random choice of specific characteristics. No two would be identical, but all would be basically the same. He was quite familiar with the psychological conditioning ideas New Eden had developed—they really weren’t that new—and he saw a variation of that in the spell that was diabolical, it didn’t matter how bright or capable you were, or what your background was, it hurt to think. The more you fought it. the more it hurt. The only way to feel all right was to try to make your mind a blank. Just do exactly what you’re told. He tried to imagine the huge mass of women in the cluster all this way. Those who were with smart, capable men would survive—until discovered and picked up by a New Eden patrol, which would have a huge number of submissive and totally compliant women on their hands.