"I reeled, shocked and alone inside my skull. The brain loomed, dark and untenanted now."
"I reeled, shocked and alone inside my skull. The brain loomed, dark and untenanted now."
"I reeled, shocked and alone inside my skull. The brain loomed, dark and untenanted now."
Agony! I twisted, felt again with a massive return of sensation my arms, my legs, opened both eyes to see blurred figures moving. And in my chest a hideous pain....
I was sprawled on the floor, I lay gasping. Sudden understanding came: the red-head had struck ... and the other mind, in full rapport with the pain centers, had broken under the shock, left the stricken brain to me alone.
As through a red veil I saw the giant figure of Ommodurad loom, stoop over me, rise with the royal cylinder in his hand. And beyond, Foster strained backward, the chain between his wrists garroting the red-head. Ommodurad turned, took a step, flicked the man from Foster's grasp and hurled him aside. He drew his dagger. Quick as a hunting cat Foster leaped, struck with the manacles ... and the knife clattered across the floor. Ommodurad backed away with a curse, while the red-head seized the stiletto he had let fall and moved in. Foster turned to meet him, staggering, and raised heavy arms.
I fought to move, got my hand as far as my side, fumbled with the leather strap. The alien mind had stolen from my brain the knowledge of the cylinder but I had kept from it the fact of the pistol. I had my hand on its butt now. Painfully I drew it, dragged my arm up, struggled to raise the weapon, centered it on the back of the mop of red hair, free now of the cowl ... and fired.
Ommodurad had found his dagger. He turned back from the corner where Foster had sent it spinning. Foster retreated until his back was at the wall: My vision grew dimmer. The great gold circles of the Two Worlds seemed to revolve, while waves of darkness rolled over me.
But there was a thought: something I had found among the patterns in the intruder's mind. At the center of the sunburst rose a boss, in black and gold, erupting a foot from the wall, like a sword hilt....
The thought came from far away. The sword of the Rthr, used once, in the dawn of a world, by a warrior king but laid away now, locked in its sheath of stone, keyed to the mind-pattern of the Rthr, that none other might ever draw it to some ignoble end.
A sword, keyed to the basic mind-pattern of the king....
I drew a last breath, blinked back the darkness. Ommodurad stepped past me, knife in hand, toward the unarmed man.
"Foster," I croaked. "The sword...."
Foster's head came up. I had spoken in English; the syllables rang strangely in that outworld setting. Ommodurad ignored the unknown words.
"Draw ... the sword ... from the stone!... You're ... Qulqlan ... Rthr ... of Vallon."
I saw him reach out, grasp the ornate hilt. Ommodurad, with a cry, leaped toward him—
The sword slid out smoothly, four feet of glittering steel. Ommodurad stopped, stared at the manacled hands gripping the hilt of the fabled blade. Slowly he sank to his knees, bent his neck.
"I yield, Qulqlan," he said. "I crave the mercy of the Rthr."
Behind me I heard thundering feet. Dimly I was aware of Torbu raising my head, of Foster leaning over me. They were saying something but I couldn't hear. My feet were cold, and the coldness crept higher. The winds that swept through eternity blew away the last shred of ego and I was one with darkness....
Epilogue
I awoke to a light like that of a morning when the world was young. Gossamer curtains fluttered at tall windows, through which I saw a squadron of trim white clouds riding in a high blue sky.
I turned my head, and Foster stood beside me, dressed in a short white tunic.
"That's a crazy set of threads, Foster," I said, "but on your build it looks good. But you've aged; you look twenty-five if you look a day."
Foster smiled. "Welcome to Vallon, my friend," he said in English.
"Vallon," I said. "Then it wasn't all a dream?"
"Regard it as a dream, Legion. Your life begins today." Someone came forward from behind Foster.
"Gope," I said. Then I hesitated. "You are Gope, aren't you?" I said in Vallonian.
He laughed. "I was known by that name once," he said, "but my true name is Gwanne."
My eyes fell on my legs. I saw that I was wearing a tunic like Foster's except that mine was pale blue.
"Who put the dress on me?" I asked. "And where's my pants?"
"This garment suits you better," said Gope. "Come. Look in the glass."
I got to my feet, stepped to a long mirror, glanced at the reflection. "It's not the real me, boys," I started. Then I stared, open-mouthed. A Hercules, black-haired and clean-limbed, stared back. I shut my mouth ... and his mouth shut. I moved an arm and he did likewise. I whirled on Foster.
"What ... how ... who...?"
"The mortal body that was Legion died of its wounds," he said, "but the mind that was the man was recorded. We have waited many years to give that mind life again."
I turned back to the mirror, gaped. The young giant gaped back. "I remember," I said. "I remember ... a knife in my guts ... and a red-headed man ... and the Great Owner, and...."
"For his crimes," told Gope, "he went to a place of exile until the Change should come on him. Long have we waited."
I looked again and now I saw two faces in the mirror and both of them were young. One was low down, just above my ankles, and it belonged to a cat I had known as Itzenca. The other, higher up, was that of a man I had known as Ommodurad. But this was a clear-eyed Ommodurad, just under twenty-one.
"Onto the blank slate we traced your mind," said Gope.
"He owed you a life, Legion," Foster said. "His own was forfeit."
"I guess I ought to kick and scream and demand my original ugly puss back," I said slowly, studying my reflection, "but the fact is, I like looking like Mr. Universe."
"Your earthly body was infected with the germs of old age," said Foster. "Now you can look forward to a great span of life."
"But come," said Gope. "All Vallon waits to honor you." He led the way to the tall window.
"Your place is by my side at the great ringboard," said Foster. "And afterwards: all of the Two Worlds lie before you."
I looked past the open window and saw a carpet of velvet green that curved over foothills to the rim of a forest. Down the long sward I saw a procession of bright knights and ladies come riding on animals, some black, some golden palomino, that looked for all the world like unicorns.
My eyes travelled upward to where the light of a great white sun flashed on blue towers. And somewhere in the distance trumpets sounded.
"It looks like a pretty fair offer," I said.