As the woman watched, he tapped first along the rock immediatelysurrounding the glass, then above, and around the altar. There could beno doubt: the sounds were hollow. Some hidden chamber lay beyond. Heturned to his companion.
'Shall I break the glass?'
Again she felt an inner turmoil. But her need to know was so great.....'Yes.'
He shielded his eyes with his arm, much as he had on the night whentogether they heard the Voice. . .and hurled his stone into the heart ofit.
With a crash the mirror burst. And when she dared to open her eyesagain, her first reaction was disappointment. Only a hole remained,lined about the edges with jagged bits of glass. But forbidding andtooth-like as these appeared, they could with care be removed, and thepassage rendered safe. This Kalus set out to do, protecting his handwith a small skin and pulling out the pieces one by one, unable yet topenetrate the gloom of what lay beyond.
'Bring me the torch,' he said to her.
But now the girl became suddenly timid. Seeing the result of herhandiwork, she wondered if in her restless curiosity she had not temptedthe undoing of all Faith.
'It's all right,' he said, somehow knowing her thoughts.'If a belief can be so easily destroyed, by the least physicalreality, it is not worthy of the hope we place in it. I would ratherput my faith in something that can be trusted.'
Her eyes pleaded.
'I know,' he said more quietly. 'Nothing is that simple. Butthe miracle of the Voice is not banished yet. Bring me the torch, andwe'll see what lies beyond.'
Slowly she calmed the surge of religious fear, and took from its mounton the wall the torch that they had made. She handed it to him as hecontinued to reach across the polished granite, removing or brushingaside the broken glass that remained. He then moved the torch from sideto side, trying to see.....
'There is a room, about the same size of the upper cave. But it ishigher, and filled with objects I don't know.' Taking the furcanopy from his bed, he folded it and used it to line the edges, stillrough, of the opening. Then tossing the light in gently ahead of him,he mounted the altar. And passed within.
'I'm coming, too,' came the woman's voice after him.Perceiving no immediate danger, he wedged the torch into an opening, andhelped her through the empty, oval space. Upon regaining her feet, thegirl looked around her. . .and gave voice to her dismay.
'Computers.' And so it was. One entire wall of the square-cutchamber consisted of nothing but the sterile MACHINES: voice and thoughtanalyzers, communications and memory, species, mythology, and logicsequencers. The woman felt used, betrayed.
'All that time in the cave, alone and afraid. My only hope was thevoice that spoke to me through the glass. To know that it was readingmy thoughts and secret hopes, and telling me to remain there..... JustMACHINES. All a terrible hoax.'
'Not all, my sweet Sylvie, and not terrible. The warnings they spokewere true, and may have saved your life. And in the end, I did come toyou.' He put his arm around her.
'And is it not a miracle after all? Think of it. I was born fullyhuman, on a night when stars fell from the sky. Then Akar comes to mein Barabbas' cave: I see a terrible vision, and am made an outcast.The Mantis finds you in the mountains of the North and brings you here.We are brought together.' He turned towards her. 'Even ifmachines could accomplish all or part of that, so many miracles had tocome first. Life on Earth. The Universe itself, rather than a great,formless void.
'What are the odds of it?' he continued. 'That you and Ishould be standing here now, alive and still young, with love and hope,and the chance to make a better life. Is that not miracle enough?'
'I know what you're saying. And of course you're right. Itjust felt better. . .I don't know. . .to think that God was watchingme. That He loved and cared about ME..... I'm going to missthat.'
'When I was a child, I thought as a child,' he quoted. 'Whenwe are young we need such illusions, such security. And who is to saywhat does and does not exist in the world beyond our sight? Not I.Here I stand, surrounded by wonders I could not dream of. To think thata light from a machine could reach inside my mind, and give me the powerto speak.'
At this the woman suddenly stirred, and drew away from him. Sheexamined the machinery more closely, confounded, overwhelmed. Itwasn't possible.
'What is it, Sylviana?' Still for a time she could not speak,trying to follow the rapid, and incredible chain of thought.
'My father was a scientist,' she said finally. 'And I knewsomething of on-going research. This technology: the fire that burnedfrom nothing, the ability to read my thoughts..... And the violet beam,GIVING YOU THE POWER OF SPEECH. Kalus, unless I'm dead wrong. Thisequipment, and the altar. . .weren't left here by men! We haven'tadvanced nearly this far.'
With this her weary despondency left her. She was consumed instead bythe eager, questioning thought that her father had passed on to heralmost without her knowing it: Science, the study of the visible God.
Examining the back of the chamber, she found a steep passage carved intothe rock, after a single bend to the left, leading in a straight lineupward and eastward. But surely ?carved' was not the right word.The walls were smooth as glass, the floor rippled, as if to accommodatesome creature which had used the uneven surface to enter and return.....The slanting tube rose far out of sight---to the top, she imagined, ofSkither's fifteen-hundred foot mountain. A score of masonscouldn't have done the fine work in twenty years.
'What does it mean?' asked Kalus, lost in the wake of herdiscovery and unable to follow.
'The oldest question of all, Kalus. Is there life among the stars?But here, let's follow the passage and see where it leads. I'lltell you more when I know more.'
Now it was he who became trepid, not understanding. She couldn'thelp herself. She laughed.
'Oh, did I look as foolish when you broke the mirror? There's noreason to be afraid. I'm sure there's no one here now. Machinerythis advanced could have been working completely on its own forcenturies.'
She took his hand, and together they made their way up the long,arrow-straight passageway, pacing their steps and resting often, so asnot to exhaust themselves in the climb and have nothing left. And yetat each pause their sense of wonder, as well as the now tenable magic ofthe peyote, only seemed to increase.
For so, too, do Science and the indescribable beauty Nature walk---thestudy and living manifestation, respectively, of the enigmatic Spirit ofthe Universe.
And as they stepped out at last onto a high platform open to the stars,both felt it so clearly. The sabled dome of sky, scattered with livingdiamonds, throbbed and pulsed, undeniable: Eternity's Breath.
And though they found nothing more alien or fantastic than a smooth,half-crater floor, opening unbarriered on the East, still, this was morethan enough. The vastness of the sky reached like a limitless ocean,islanded by countless suns and unseen planets.
And on the nearer, more tangible horizon, its pounding surf just audiblein the distance..... Kalus' heart caught in his throat. How itcalled to him! Earth-mystical, everlasting, unvanquished by the folliesof men. . .he saw it as for the first time. Endlessly living.
The Sea.
*
They remained there until morning, speaking or in silence, taking in theenormity of life, and thinking things they'd never thought before.
While the silent stars watched.
PART III
The Island of Ruins
Though nothing can bring back that hour Of splendour in the grass, ofglory in the flowers; We will not grieve, rather find Strength in whatremains behind....
---William Wordsworth
Chapter 32
Sylviana strolled easily along the beach, the cub running playfully upahead of her. As she walked the cool ocean breeze wrapped her face andbody in its blanket of moist freshness. The water-pocked sand beneathher felt cold and invigorating. Tiny trills of foam nipped at her feetas if demanding her attention, before returning in hissing p
rotest tothe sea.
At long last, she thought, they had come to a place where this simplepleasure, a walk in the open air, did not mean exposure to imminentperil. High walls of stark, weather-beaten stone protected the covefrom behind and to either side, reaching long tendrils out into thewater. And between its arms and hollow chest a strip of sand, perhaps amile long and a third as deep, lay open to the sea and sun. Lack ofgame, as much as the forbidding walls, kept the predatory threat of theland animals away from them. So Kalus had told her.
For this same reason he had never considered the margins of the sea as ahome of any duration. But on that night when he felt its call sostrongly, remaining upon the high watch until the fiery sun had risenfrom its depths to light the land, Sylviana had spoken of the many waysthat food could be obtained there. His restless thought needed no otherprompting. In the following weeks they had taken what they needed andcould carry, and come the gray stone distance to the north and east, tolive. That Kalus had another reason for doing so he kept to himself, aseeming contradiction to the intimate closeness of those days. But heknew the symptoms of his heart and would not cross them. Not yet. Hewas afraid, and at the same time drawn, to the thing he did notunderstand.
The girl watched happily as Alaska made a reckless charge back throughthe surf, crashing the shallow water against her chest with theinexhaustible energy of youth. Having lived more than half her lifeamong humans, it seemed a perfectly natural thing to do: running injoyful frolic toward the outstretched, clapping hands of her soft,female friend. And as she came to a sudden, impulsive halt, shaking thecold water from her fur, she took little notice as Sylviana turned apuzzled gaze far out across the waters. It only meant that her friend nolonger wished to play.
Sylviana couldn't believe her eyes. IT HAS TO BE AN ILLUSION, shethought. SOME KIND OF MIRAGE. But still the image lingered. Perhaps ahalf mile out, a lone human figure had just emerged from the water andpropped itself gracefully atop a tiny islet, a mere rock at the edge ofthe continental shelf, which had somehow survived the weathering of theyears.
At least it looked human. Just at the distance where eyesight begins tofail and imagination to fill the void, the creature looked strangelysurreal: something from an ancient legend of the sea. Half blocked fromher vision by the stone, only its naked back and blondish mane werevisible. These seemed human enough. But she was sure she rememberedsomething odd about the way it emerged. . .the way itmoved. . something.
But suddenly her eyes descried a far more substantial form, undeniable.A huge, black dorsal fin split the surface of the water like a knife,then began to move in slow patient circles around the speck of land andshelter. Incredibly, the lone figure seemed not to notice.
Like wildfire, the thoughts and fears chased each other through hermind. MY GOD, ANOTHER HUMAN! PERHAPS THE LAST. AND A SHARK! I'VE GOTTO DO SOMETHING! Cupping her hands in front of her mouth, she inhaledas deeply as her anxiety and thumping heart would allow, and shouted indesperation:
'Look out! Stay out of the water, there's a shark!' It was nouse, the north wind and crashing surf devoured her feeble warning.Trying to master her panic, she took several deep breaths, and cried outat the top of her lungs.
'Shark! Shark! Stay out of the water. A SHARK!'
This time the creature reacted. Turning towards the sound, it returnedher startled gaze with one of its own, revealing for an instant a young,almost childish face. Then to her horror, it leapt into the waterimmediately beside the giant killer. Frozen in terror she could onlywatch, unable to move or think. She didn't breathe.
Reaching the orca's back, the young male mounted quickly and wasgone.
Still on the shore, Sylviana stood incredulous. The boy must have seenit. Had he really grabbed hold of the fin, or had she just imagined it?Her eyes detecting motion farther out, once more she beheld theimpossible pairing. This time there could be no doubt. A young boy,perhaps twelve or thirteen, had resurfaced with his mount, a massivekiller whale. Clutching with hand and foot both the dorsal and pectoralfins, his limbs spread spider-like against the surging torso, he rode asif he had been born to it.
In fact, he had.
*
'Kalus!' The girl came running to the place where he stood tacitlyshaping a net, surprised he hadn't heard her shouts. He saw her butdid not immediately react, half knowing what she was going to say. Shewas going to tell him she'd seen a water-child. He waited patiently,hoping she would understand.
'Kalus,' she repeated, closer and out of breath. 'I sawanother human. . .or something that looked like one. It saw me anddashed off to sea, on the back of a killer whale!'
'Yes. I know.'
'You saw it, too?'
'No, but I have seen them before.'
She looked him full in the face, perplexed. 'You knew there wereother humans, and you never told me? My God, Kalus, why?'
'Because I was afraid.'
'Afraid of what?' she demanded.
'Afraid that if you knew there were others, you would have less needof me. That you would not love me as much, always wondering.....'
'Oh, Kalus, that's so unfair! How could you think so little ofme?' But even as she denied his words, she knew they held a grain oftruth.
'I'm sorry,' he said. Finding no other expression, he repeated.'I'm sorry.'
For a moment she had forgotten him, and the effect her resentment wouldhave. Now she looked at him, at the weary, washed-out face of long ago,and remembered.
'OH.' She came behind and wrapped her arms around his chest andheld him tightly. 'It's all right. I understand.'
With little further speech the two worked on the nets until night forcedthem back into the cave, a small hollow bored into smooth stone twentyfeet above the sand. It was neither spacious nor comfortable, but Kalusdid not intend to remain there long.
Both knew, as later in the dead of night he opened his heart to her,that they must leave the roots of their past and strike out to a newdestination. To the Island, where Kalus had often marked the smoke offires, and where he hoped to find some answer to the questions thatunsettled him, not the least of which was the riddle of the Children ofthe Sea.
Chapter 33
The beauty of the Sea was not lost on him, for all his preoccupationwith the Island. Every day it revealed new wonders, and more and morehe came to realize that it was not only a home and harbinger of infinitelife, but a living, tangible thing unto itself. When Sylviana told himit had been the birthplace of life on Earth he was not surprised. Whenshe remarked that little seemed to have changed, despite the nuclearholocaust, he believed, and felt quietly reassured.
But he also saw clearly the darker, more savage aspect of the waters,which the poetic (usually from the detached safety of an untroubled shipor peaceful shoreline) often seemed to overlook. For if the Valley hadbeen ruthless and produced, with few exceptions, a grim array ofthoughtless, thankless creatures, their only creed survival of thefittest, then the Sea was the very creator, and composer of the theme.Fierce, desperate mating followed by birth in huge numbers, of which notone in a hundred reached adulthood to fight and breed again, seemed theunbroken rule of this world without shelter, where life and death chasedeach other like madness, and none were immune.
One morning he watched as a pair of tiny animals, some forgottenoffshoot of the hermit crab, dueled at the bottom of a small, cleartidal pool for the affections of a waiting female. Not only was theirbattle as cruel and fierce as any he had ever seen on land, but thespeed and nature of their movements was so reminiscent of the small,poisonous spiders of the Carak that he, an immense land animalinfinitely safe upon the inaccessible rock, had unconsciously recoiledin fear and disgust.
On another occasion a smallish gray shark, deceived this far north by analluring current of warm water, became entangled in one of the nets theyhad strung at the end of a natural jetty. When dragged ashore with themeager catch that had lured it, its death struggle had been so ferociousthat it haunted Ka
lus' sleep for weeks afterward. Hopelesslyentangled, drowning in a sea of air, it had nonetheless thrashed andsnapped for what seemed a eternity, destroying the net and reeking suchhavoc that the startled fisherman, had he been able, would gladly havethrown it back into the sea. And even when it finally expired, therazor-sharp teeth and leering jaws had presented such a frighteningspecter that he refused, instinctively, to touch it.
Reluctantly Sylviana had admitted that this behavior, either in killingor being killed, was in no way exceptional among sharks. And far frombeing the archetype of its race, this relatively small and undevelopedcreature could not begin to match the rakish refinements of the Blue,the Tiger, and the ineffable Great White. That they preferred to feedupon the dead and dying, that they usually left substantial, uninjuredcreatures alone, was robbed of all comforting assurance by the fact thattheir perceptions were so dim, their mental development so limited, thatthe actions of a given individual in a given situation could in no waybe safely predicted. Like life itself, there was just no telling. Fromthis experience these thriving, thoughtless killers became for him thevery symbol of the dark, violent side of nature that had always soterrified and appalled him.