Grove of the Unborn

by Lyn Venable

Time."

  Tyndall, reveling in the strength of his position, grew bolder. "I wouldlike very much, Dheb Rhal, to see her now."

  The Rhal's face darkened. "Very well, Tyn-Dall, but I warn you, do notenter the Grove. There is death there, death that even I am powerless toprevent. The Guardians will not harm her, but any stranger ... will notlive many minutes in the Grove."

  "I will not enter, Dheb Rhal."

  "Tyn-Dall, The Time is very soon, possibly this very hour. Will you notwait?"

  "I prefer not to wait, Dheb Rhal."

  The Rhal gestured to a young Arrillian. "Bheel, show Tyn-Dall to theGrove of the priestess Lhyreesa."

  The younger man protested, "But, Dheb Rhal, so near The Time, whatif ..."

  "Do as I command," snapped the Rhal.

  Bheel turned silently, motioning for Tyndall to follow. The youngArrillian led Tyndall the length of the corridor, back to the patio hehad stepped onto by mistake earlier in the day. Bheel steppedrespectfully aside. Tyndall looked out into the garden: the sun wasbeginning to set, the long shadows stretched across the dim recesses oftropic greenery. The huge insect-like thing was still there, stretchedout in a narrow strip of sunlight, catching the last failing waves ofwarmth from the sinking sun.

  Tyndall turned to the Arrillian. "Where might I find the priestessLhyreesa?" he asked.

  "There, Dheb Tyn-Dall."

  "I see no one. Where do you say?"

  Bheel pointed. "There, Dheb Tyn-Dall, where I point, you see thepriestess Lhyreesa taking the late afternoon sun ... unless youreyesight is exceedingly bad, Dheb Tyn-Dall, you cannot fail to see...."

  Tyndall's eyesight was exceedingly good. He followed that pointingfinger, past the pillar that supported the roof of the patio, past thefirst row of alien green plants, past the second and third rows, to theclearing, to the little patch of sunlight, to the thing lying there.That monstrous, misshapen Bug.... The Bug.... The Priestess Lhyreesa!

  Tyndall felt a pounding, skull-shattering madness closing in on him.This was a joke, of course. No, no joke. A dream then? No, not thateither. In only a few split seconds it happened. Tyndall had leapt therail around the patio, and was streaking through the Grove, heading forits outer boundary. The city--if he could get out of the Grove, therewould be places to hide in the city. Narrow streets, empty cellars, dim,dim alleys. They'd never find him there! Run now, run before he wasovertaken!

  But he was not being pursued. Bheel still stood on the patio, transfixedwith horror. He heard the Arrillian's terrified cry "Dheb Tyn-Dall...!"And then a rope shot out and grabbed him by the ankles. Not a ropereally, a green something, and there were others around his arms, hischest, his hips, wrapping him in their sticky green embrace. TheGuardians! He tried to cry out but one of the verdant fronds envelopedhis throat so tightly he could not utter a sound. The innocent greenthings of the Grove were vigilant guardians indeed. They seemed to bemerely holding him immobile, but Tyndall realized with sick horror thattheir pressure was increasing, so little at a time, but so steadily.

  And something was happening out there in the sunlight too. The creaturehad convulsively grasped the branch of a bush and was clinging weakly toit, great tremors wracking its body. It seemed to be struggling,suffering, dying ... even as he was. In his agony, Tyndall laughed.

  "A Time! A Time!" The voice came from the patio. Tyndall saw Bheel throwhimself face down on the floor, covering his eyes with his hands. Heheard the cry echoed within the palace, and then like a mighty roaroutside in the city. And then there was silence, silence broken only bythe sound of his own breathing as he dragged his tortured lungs acrosshis shattered ribs.

  He saw the Bug give a great heave, and then it seemed to split open, theentire skin splitting in a dozen places and a hand ... A HAND reachedfrom within that dying hulk and grasped the bush to which it clung. Awhite slender hand on a fragile wrist, and then the arm was free, awoman's arm, a beautiful arm.

  Tyndall began, dimly, and too late, to understand.

  A leg kicked free ... the slender ankle ... the amply fleshed thigh.

  Tyndall clung to consciousness doggedly. The Guardian was crushing thelast dregs of life out of him now, and even the pain seemed to recede.His mind was very, very clear. So that was it. A word once heard in along forgotten classroom, and then the scientists of the expedition.Metamorphosis ... he had meant to ask them what ... but he rememberednow ... what it meant. A passing from one form into another.... Had hefailed a biology test once because he didn't know what metamorphosismeant ... dimly ... dimly ... he saw ...

  The last thing Tyndall ever saw was the Priestess Lhyreesa as shestepped out of the empty hulk, kicking it away with a disdainful toe.Breathless from her ordeal, she sank to the grass, her breasts heavingwith exhaustion.

  She sat there for a few minutes in the sunlight, then she tossed herhead and spread her long raven hair out on her shoulders, the better todry it in the waning sun.

  Transcriber's Note:

  This etext was produced from _Fantastic Universe_ January 1957. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errors have been corrected without note.