At length we stopped and my mother shared out some sips of water and a dried meat with a bad smell. One could chew and swallow it, and hope it would mean strength and nourishment. My father leaned back in his seat, his hands resting on the edge of the control board, a gray tiredness in his face. Still he watched the screen as if there were never to be any relief from vigilance.
My mother spoke to Hilarion. “We seek your gate,” she said straightly. “Can it be found?”
He had raised a water container to his lips; now he made a lengthy business of swallowing, as if he needed that extra time for thought or to make some decision. When he spoke he did not answer her but voiced a question of his own: “You are a Wise Woman?”
“Once, before I chose to take another path.” She had turned as far as she could in her seat that she might see him the better.
“But you did not so lose what you had had.” This time it was no question but a statement of fact.
“I gained more!” My mother’s voice held pride and a kind of triumph.
“Being who you are,” Hilarion continued deliberately, “you understand the nature of the gates.”
“Yes—and I also know that you created the one we seek. Indeed, we have long been hunting you, having some small hint you were where you were. But they kept you lapped in something hostile to our seeking so we could not speak with you—until Kaththea reached you and so opened a channel of mind seeking between us. Having created the gate you can control it.”
“Can I? That I shall not know until I try. Once I would have said yes, but I have been warped by that which is alien to my own learning. Perhaps it has twisted me so askew that I cannot again summon the true Power to answer me.”
“That rests on one side of the scales,” agreed Jaelithe. “But we do not know what lies upon the other until we set to the weighing. You were truly adept or you would not have made the gate. That you have been a prisoner to other purposes is your bane; it need not be your end. Can you take us to your gate?”
His eyes dropped from hers to the wand, and he turned it about with the fingers of both hands, looking upon it as if he now held some new and totally strange thing he did not recognize.
“Even that,” he said in a low voice, “I cannot be sure of now. But I know this much, that I cannot have a guide to follow if I remain in this machine: the taint of the other is too strong and able to warp what I would try.”
“Yet if we leave it”—my father for the first time took part in that exchange—“we go out as men naked to a storm. This has defenses enough to provide us with a moving fortress.”
“You asked me,” Hilarion returned in sharp impatience, “and I have told you the truth. If you want your gate we must be away from this box and all it stands for!”
“Can you go forth a little,” I began, “and do what must be done to find the direction, then return?”
Both my father and mother looked at Hilarion. He continued to slip the wand back and forth for a long moment of silence but at length he answered.
“There can be but a trial to see. . . . ” There was such hesitation in his voice, such weariness there, that I thought that any seeking of that nature would be a task he must force himself to. Yet a moment later he asked, this time speaking directly to my father, “If you name this country safe as you can see it, there is no better time for my efforts. We cannot wait and hope and let Zandur loose his might on our tail. Also, those of the tower have their own brand of terror when dealing with aught walking the surface here. And since you travel in this thing which is of Zandur’s people, their air scouts will be ready to use lightning against us if they sight it.”
So it was that we came forth from the crawler into the darkening night and stood looking about us at the desolation which was the countryside here.
XV
The bare bones of this land, which was all that was left, were stark under a night sky. And the moon, so bright and full when I had come into the basin, was now on the wane. Yet it gave enough light for us to see what was immediately about us. My father waved an order to stay where we were for the time being while he flitted—I can find no words to really describe his swift movements—blended with the landscape, spiraling away from the halted vehicle. And I realized that he now put into use the training of a border scout. He had disappeared when my mother spoke.
“There is no danger close by. Which way?” This she asked of Hilarion.
He lifted his head; I thought I almost saw his nostrils expand as might a hound’s testing scent. Then he raised the wand, setting its tip to his forehead midpoint between his eyes, which were closed, as if he must see the better inwardly instead of outwardly.
The wand swung, pointing to the right from where we stood. When he opened his eyes again there was a spark of new life in them.
“That way!” So certain was his pronouncement that we did not doubt he had managed to find us a guide through this ash-strewn wilderness.
When my father returned, which he did shortly (I think in answer to some mind search call from my mother, not within my range), he studied the direction Hilarion’s wand had indicated and then, within the crawler, made adjustments to the board of controls.
But we did not set out at once, taking rather a rest period, with one of us, turn about, on guard. I slept dreamlessly. When I awoke the moon had vanished, but so clouded was the sky that the light was that of dusk. Once more we ate and drank sparingly from our scanty stores. And my father said that he was sure that we had not been seen in any way, especially as the mechanical sentries of the crawler machine also registered naught.
We crept on, now following the path Hilarion had set us. But within the hour my father turned the nose of the machine abruptly and, at a rocking pace we had not used since we left the basin, sent it under a ledge, or at least most of it into that protection. There came a loud buzzing from the controls until he swept his hand down, hastily thumbing buttons and levers. The throb of life stilled, we sat in silence unable even to see much, for the screen now displayed only the bare rock of the crevice into which we were jammed.
My father’s back was rigid and he did not turn to offer any explanation, only stared at the controls. I feared some danger he thought beyond his ability to counter. And I found myself listening, though for what I had no idea.
It was Hilarion who moved as if to ease his long body, cramped in the inadequate space beyond the still sleeping Ayllia.
“The tower people.” He did not ask that as a question but made it a statement of fact.
“One of their flyers,” agreed my father.
“This machine,” Hilarion continued, “it answers you easily, yet she”—he pointed with his chin to my mother, not loosing his grip on the wand—“is of the Old Race and those love not machines. . . . ”
“I am not of Estcarp,” my father answered. “Gates upon gates seem to tie worlds together. I entered through such a one into Estcarp. And in my own time and place I was a fighting man who used such machines—though not exactly like this one. We found this on the shore of the sea when first we came here through a gate which would not open to us again. And since then it has been our fortress.”
“Only if you keep away from the towers,” Hilarion commented. “For how long have you roamed so, hunting a gate to take you back?”
Simon shrugged. “The days we had numbered, but it would seem that time here does not march at the same pace as it does in Estcarp.”
“How so?” Hilarion was surprised. How much more stunned would he be when he discovered just how many years had passed in Escore if or when we returned?
“I left a daughter who was a child,” my father said, and he turned to smile directly at me, shyly, ill at ease, but somehow as a plea, “and now I face a grown woman who has gone her own way to some purpose.”
Hilarion looked to me, more surprise in that glance, before he stared again at Simon and my mother.
Jaelithe nodded as if she were answering some unvoiced question.
&nbs
p; “Kaththea is our daughter. Though we have long been apart. And”—now she spoke to me—“it would seem much has happened.”
I must pick and choose my words well, I thought. To tell them of what had chanced in Estcarp and perhaps somewhat in Escore, that I could do. But while I distrusted Hilarion, and there was no chance to talk apart with my parents, I must speak with care.
Now I told them of what had chanced with the three of us after Jaelithe had gone seeking my father—of my own taking by the Wise Women and the years spent in the Place of Silence. Then of that last blow which the witches of Estcarp aimed at Karsten, and of how Kyllan and Kemoc had come to free me and of our escape into Escore. Thereafter I did not change the truth, I only told part of it—that we had come into a land which was also under the cloud of an ancient war, and that we had united there with those akin to us in spirit, though I mentioned no names or places.
My own misfortunes I dealt with as best I could, saying mainly that I had been ensorceled by one deceiving us and had headed back to Estcarp for treatment. Thereafter I spoke of the Vupsall and of the raiders, and lastly of how Ayllia and I had come to the citadel on the cape and of our passing through the gate.
I dared not use mind touch, even to let my mother know there was more which should be known between us. But something in her eyes as they met mine told me that she had guessed it was so and when opportunity arose we would speak of it.
Mostly I feared that Hilarion might be one to turn on me with questions of how Escore had fared since his leaving there. But strangely enough he did not. Then I began to see in that abstraction a suspicious silence, and I liked even less the thought of his return, though without him we could not go either.
When I had done my father sighed. “It would seem that indeed our carefully numbered days here are not to be trusted. So Karsten is now behind a barrier and the Wise Women brought themselves to naught in so building it. Who then rules?”
“Koris, by our last hearing, though he suffered an ill wound in the latter days of the war—so that he no longer carries Volt’s ax.”
“Volt’s ax,” my father repeated as one who remembers many things. “Volt’s abiding place and the ax. . . . Those were brave days. Their like will not come again for us, I believe. But if Karsten lies low, what of Alizon?”
“It is said by those who have come to join Kyllan,” I told him, “that Alizon, having seen what chanced with Karsten, walks small these days.”
“Which will last only for years enough to match my fingers.” He held out his right hand. “And then they shall think big and begin to rattle swords out of sheaths again. Koris may rule, and well will he do so, but he can also do with old friends at his back or right hand. And if he holds not Volt’s ax, he shall need them even more.”
As well as if I could read his mind I knew my father’s thought. Though he was not of the Old Race born, yet by will he had become one of them. And between him and Koris of Gorm there was a strong tie forged by blood and sweat during the struggle with the Kolder. He willed with all his might now to ride once more into Es City and be there at his friend’s need.
“Yes,” agreed my mother. “But before we ride west to Es, we must be in the same world.”
So she summoned us back to the matter at hand. My father shook his head, not in denial, but as if to thrust away thoughts which were now a hindrance. Then he looked at the control board, seeming to read plainly there what was a puzzle in my sight.
He asked of Hilarion, “Have you any knowledge of how far we are from your gate?”
“This will tell.” Hilarion spun the wand between his fingers. “We have yet some distance before us. And what of your flyer?”
“It is going.” Once more my father’s attention was for the board. “We can travel as soon as the alarm ceases.”
It was indeed not long before the crawler backed out of the pocket in which my father had set it. Then it trundled on its way and all we saw was the unchanging bleakness of this world.
This was a place of dunes and hillocks and we were forced to pick a roundabout way among them; our view of what might lie ahead was thus foreshortened. But my father had other warnings built into this machine and upon those we depended.
It seemed long, that night during which we bumped along until our bodies were as one huge bruise, though in the seats my mother and father fared a little better. Then we pulled to another rest stop and Hilarion thereafter took my mother’s seat, as the wand now showed that we were not too far from our goal. Jaelithe came to sit beside Ayllia. We had been able to dribble water into the girl’s mouth, but she had not eaten since she and I had divided our supply in the corridor of the tower city, and I wondered how much longer she could exist. My mother reassured me that, remaining in this unconscious state as she had for so long, her body had less demands.
We lost the crawler up a ridge, teetered there for a minute, and began a downward slip. I heard my father give a shouted exclamation and saw his hands move quickly on the controls. The screen showed us what lay ahead—one of those black ribbon roads. And we were sliding straight for it as my father fought to halt our precipitous descent.
He managed to turn the blunt nose of the vehicle sharply left so we skidded to a stop pointing in that direction parallel to the road. I heard what I was sure was his sigh of relief as we came to rest without touching the pavement.
“What now?” But he might be asking that of someone or something beyond our own company.
“That way!” Hilarion squirmed impatiently in his seat, pointing the wand directly across the highway.
My father laughed harshly. “That takes some considering. We cannot cross in this—not and want it to be of service thereafter.”
“Why?” Hilarion’s impatience was stronger, as if, so close to the goal, he would not be gainsaid in making a straight line to reach it.
“Because that is no ordinary roadway,” my father returned. “It is rather a force broadcast meant to keep the tower transports in motion. This tank was never designed to touch it. I do not know what will happen if we crawl out upon it, but I do not think that it would survive such a journey.”
“Then what do we do? Seek a bridge?” demanded Hilarion.
“We have no promise any exists,” my father answered bleakly. “And to hunt a bypass or overpass may take us many leagues out of our way.” He turned away from the screen to look directly to the adept. “Have you any knowledge of how close you now are to the gate site?”
“Perhaps a league, or less. . . . ”
“There is a chance—” my father began hesitatingly, as if while he spoke he was measuring in his mind one ill against another and trying to assess which was the least. “We might perhaps use this tank as a bridge. But if it fails, and leaves us caught midway . . . ” Now he shook his head a little.
“I think, Simon,” my mother broke in, “that we have little choice. If we seek a way around there may be none, and we shall only be putting such a length of journey between us and the gate as will defeat us. If this half plan of yours has any merit at all, then we must prove it here and now.”
He did not answer her at once, but sat looking to the screen as one studying a weighty problem. Then he said, “I can promise you no better odds than if you throw the tip-cones with Lothur.”
My mother laughed. “Ah, but I have seen you do that very thing, Simon, and thereafter, having made your wager, take up two handfuls of round pieces from the board! Life is full of challenges and one may not sidestep even the worst of them, as we well know.”
“Very well. I do not know the nature of this force but I think that it flows as a current. We must set the controls and hope for the best.”
But there were more preparations for us to make. Under my father’s orders, we climbed out of the crawler, taking Ayllia with us; and then we loaded into that small section where we had crouched as passengers, and into the seats in front, all the loose rocks we could gouge from the ground about us, setting such a weight in the interior
as would give the vehicle some anchorage against any flow of force. My father brought forth the chain rope which had aided us out of the well. With that we made handholds on the flat roof of the crawler, taking with us what was left of our supplies and water. Once we were all atop, save for my father, he entered the cabin, crawling through the small space he had left for that purpose. Under us the machine came to life, edged back and around to once more face the road directly. It was partly upslope, tilted toward the black surface on which my father read such danger.
As it began to crawl and slide down again, my father swung out and up to join us. He had been right in his foreboding. As the heavy vehicle rammed out onto that surface it was struck with an impact like the anger of a mighty river current, half turned from its course.
Would it be entirely turned, bearing us, as helpless prisoners on and on to the towers this road served? Or would the power my father had activated win across for us? I lay grasping the rope until its links bit painfully into my flesh, while under me the machine trembled and fought. It traveled at an angle to the right, but it still had not been sucked into the complete turn which would mean disaster. I could not be sure that we were still making any progress toward the other side.
We had already been swept on, well away from the point where we had entered. And what would happen if one of the transports for the towers came down upon us? So vivid was the picture of that in my mind that I fought to blank it out, and so perhaps missed the turning point of our battle.
I was suddenly aware of the fact that my father was no longer stretched flat beside me, but was on his knees freeing the packs of supplies. With a quick toss he hurled them both to his left so that, raising my head, I saw them strike the ground beyond the road, on the side we wished to reach. Then his hand gripped my shoulder tightly.
“Loose your hold!” he ordered. “When I give the word—jump!”
I could see no hope of success. But this was a time when one must place faith in another, and I struggled with my fear long enough to indeed loose my frantic hold and rise to my knees, then, with my father’s hand drawing me up, to my feet. I glanced around to see my mother and Hilarion also standing, Ayllia between them, stirring as if awaking.