by David Mason
“Faster!” he shouted toward the drummers.
“Ulff!” Rorin cried out, seizing his arm. “Look, there!”
The last galley of the five was just vanishing into the forested entrance of the river; its mast could be seen moving among the trees. But near it there was a brilliant orange flash, and a column of black smoke. A moment later, a heavy thud reached the last galley, then a second orange flash flamed out. Over the trees, specks of something flew, arching toward the galleys in the river. Ulff, staring at them, realized that those flecks of darkness must be huge rocks, hurled somehow at his hapless companions. He roared again for more speed.
But now he could count four tall columns of smoke rising from the hidden river; and he knew, with dreadful certainty, that four ships burned.
Then, out of the river, the fifth galley lurched, wallowing toward Ulff’s galley with frantic haste though many of its oars hung idle. As it came closer, Ulff saw dead men in heaped piles, and everywhere the marks of furious fighting—hacked rails and dangling lines. Now, coming abreast of his galley, the other passed; a man roared out toward Ulff.
“The others! Burning! They lay in wait, thousands! Ulff, turn back!”
The sight of that galley was enough. Already the unharmed galley turned and men scrambled to lift the mainsail, to catch the light wind from the south. Ahead, the other had already set a sail and oars were being drawn inboard.
“Come up with that ship,” Ulff called out. “I’ll have Krom over, and we’ll learn what’s made lions of those river folk, damn them!” He glanced aft; the canoes still followed, but were being left farther behind every moment. “I’ll have those four we caught, too; drag them here and I’ll see what they know of all this.”
Ulff braced his back against a rail, his face set like a mask of iron. Rorin, near him, glanced at that face and knew better than to speak. Rorin himself had enough to worry about. After all, he thought bitterly, Ulff, the King’s friend, will have no more to bear but a word of reprimand; and then, someone must be found to bear the blame, and it would probably be Rorin, as usual. If the expedition had been a success, Ulff would have had the glory.
The four prisoners were being brought, and now Ulff glared at them, chewing his lip.
The woman was a handsome wench, Rorin thought; she seemed different from those river tribesmen he had seen on their earlier raids. So did her companions; they might be of some inland race, he thought, watching them as they stood defiantly before the chief.
Ulff had also noted their difference. He plucked at his chin, still staring at them, and waited a long while before he spoke. Then he looked at one of the men, the only one who seemed to be of the same blood as the river tribes.
“You,” Ulff said, pointing. “What are you called?”
“Shorr-emak,” the fellow said curtly.
“And you?” Ulff indicated another.
“I am Galta,” the second man said. The third gave his name as Banar. They were afraid, Rorin could tell; but they held their fear in check, very well.
Then Ulff’s eyes fell on the woman, and he looked for a long time before he spoke.
“And you?”
“I am Ammi, wife to… Daniel.” Her voice had halted oddly before the name.
“Ulff!” Rorin came close to the chief and spoke in a lower voice. “You heard? The name we were told…”
“Silence, fool, or I’ll give you silence,” Ulff said in an even lower voice, with an unmirthful smile at the other. His eyes came back to the woman Ammi, and he grunted softly. “I would have enjoyed a romp with that one… but she’ll be of greater value without damage, for the time.”
The galley rolled gently, the big sail straining overhead while Ulff continued to stare at his captives. Ammi stood, eyes wide and unblinking, expressionless, her long pale hair blowing in the wind. After a long time Ulff spoke again.
“You look somewhat like the women of Iskarth,” he said slowly. He took a step toward her, his big hands locked behind him, legs apart to brace himself. Suddenly, “Tell me of this man of yours, Daniel. How is it he was not with you?”
She shrugged. “He will find me. And you too.”
“Ah?” Ulff grinned. “Then what will happen?”
“He will kill you,” Ammi said calmly.
Ulff chuckled. “So? He is a tall, strong man, this Daniel?” His lips spread in a grin. “A good stallion for such a mare as yourself? Handsome, perhaps… what does he look like?”
“Handsomer than yourself,” Ammi said coldly. “But then, I’ve seen a shark that was handsomer than you, man.”
“Why, you may see another shark or two before long, girl,” Ulff said harshly. He glanced carefully at the others.
“You men, now,” he said. “Doubtless you know this great chief, Daniel.” He grinned at them. “If one of you might know where he’s to be found, or how I may know him… why, there’s fine reward to be given for your help.” He stopped and stared at them. “Or… if you know nothing, there may be other rewards, not so fine.”
Ulff waited. No one spoke.
“Well, then,” he said, slowly, “we’ve a few days sailing yet. Time for thought. Your memories may improve, eh? Though your memories won’t matter, once you’re chained in a mine shaft, in Iskarth.” He laughed. “Or perhaps I’ll be most merciful, and merely slip a hook through your guts and drag you behind this ship the rest of the way. Eh?”
He stared at them again, then shrugged.
“Good enough,” he said, and waved at their guards. “Chain them up, out of my sight”
Chapter V
Daniel, following the sleek brown being who now ran on all fours ahead of him, was forced to almost a trotting pace to keep up. It seemed evident that the commands of the Morra-ayar were imperative ones, from Esharr’s haste. And somehow, it seemed that the whole cave city was aware of something, as well. The murmuring and rustling of unseen beings was much louder now, coming from all directions; yet Daniel could see only an occasional shadowy movement in the vast halls.
He had already guessed that the caves lay partly below sea level, and that the rocky pinnacles he had glimpsed at first were merely the upper parts of an enormous complex. It puzzled him to guess how the air pressure within could be kept up, to hold back the sea… if that was what was happening. But he had no time to theorize about it. Esharr had reached the brim of a wider pool, and paused, looking back.
“Come, quickly,” the creature said. “Not far, but must swim now, underneath.” He did not pause, but slid swiftly into the dark water, and Daniel took a deep breath and followed.
It was very dark, but he could see the shadow shape of the otter, just ahead; and he followed, swimming hard to keep up. They were in a great tunnel now, and then, ahead, the water grew bright green with sunlight. The otter swam upward.
Daniel’s head broke the surface; he floated, flinging the wet hair back out of his eyes, blinking and breathing hard.
Then, he saw the Morra-ayar.
There were three of them. They lay, facing him, the sea smooth around them, reflecting their vast bodies like a mirror. All around, the rocky reefs stood like a low wall, except for a wide opening through which they had evidently come. And, as Daniel floated, looking at them, he saw that dim shapes were all around him in the water, just below the surface. At a distance, nearer the reefs, sleek shining heads broke the surface and strange forms clung to the reefs themselves. There were dolphins in vast numbers, but not only dolphins; Daniel could sense, somehow, the presence of a vast crowd of living beings of every kind, though all were silent.
But it was the Morra-ayar who were overwhelmingly there.
Melville, Daniel thought suddenly, and nearly laughed crazily at the memory of the words of a writer who would not be born for innumerable years to come. Like a sea cliff, but living, a mountain moving on the face of the waters…
They were grey, and huge, and their tiny dark eyes glittered, watching him, filled with a strange look that he could not read. But
they’re whales, Daniel thought wildly. Why, my ancestors might have used whale oil for lamps, hunted these giants to turn their bones into corsets for fat women… damn it, used their grease to lubricate clocks and their meat to feed poodle dogs!
And the silence remained.
The water was warm and Daniel floated easily, staring at those mountainous beings, waiting. And at last he grew impatient.
“I’m here!” he called out. “What do you want of me?”
THERE IS NO NEED TO SPEAK IN A VOICE.
The words boomed silently in Daniel’s mind; he stared, stricken dumb. Telepathy, he thought. That’s all I needed, creatures that can read minds. A feeling of irrational anger, as though he had suddenly become no more than a beast to such as these, rose within him.
DO NOT BE ANGRY.
Angry? I… damn it. I’m not a pet, I’m a man! Daniel said silently.
YOU ARE A MAN. A MAN IS A CREATURE OF FLESH, AS WE ALL ARE. WAIT. BE AT PEACE. WE SHALL BRING YOUR MIND WITHIN OURSELVES, AND YOU WILL UNDERSTAND.
A sudden, strange humming seemed to be coming from every direction at once, a sound that was almost but not quite beyond Daniel’s range of hearing. It seemed to enter his flesh, a rising tone that was like a calming drug. He floated, his eyes half-closed, trying to fight the increasing vagueness with his will, but not succeeding at all Then, abruptly, he became… aware.
He could not have described what was happening even then, while it was going on. It was not hypnotic; he was fully awake, conscious, himself. Yet he saw, and felt, an entirely different world from that sea pool in which he floated. Reality was suddenly two, and the second reality was the world of the Morra-ayar, and all that they saw and thought.
There were a good many more of them, for one thing, at least half a hundred; these floated in the sea nearby because they always remained close to each other when they could.
Daniel knew this, as he knew a thousand other small facts about the Morra-ayar now. He was still himself, possessing his own separate identity; yet it was as if he could remember other matters, dimly. He could remember the sea courses that the whale herd took, and where the feeding was best, for instance; the particular identities of the dozen or more of the calves who swam with the Morra-ayar.
These are small matters, which come to you because you are within our—field. We must show you the more important things in a different way, man.
The words seemed to form in Daniel’s mind, a shifting pattern of meaning that he himself had to reshape into words. But it was plain enough that the Morra-ayar spoke to him. He tried to reply, angrily questioning. But they did not seem to notice; the overwhelming force of their mental imaging rose and engulfed him.
We are a very old clan, the image-speech said. Daniel understood the words; the clan was the particular group of great whales, a kind of tribe family. The Morra-ayar were only one of many such clans, but they were of a special sort, and their particular group had been formed long ago.
We remember the past, long ago, and the future, till your own time and farther, the voices said. We can show you, man. Watch, with us.
But, to Daniel, it was not as though he watched a scene, but as though he were part of what he watched, himself. He felt and saw, and was aware of odors, tastes and sensations in a dozen shapes at once.
Dim, huge forms moved sluggishly through a fern forest, huge feet drawing suckingly from the black mud. They were the great, mindless lizards of a million years ago, creatures that Daniel had seen pictured in books. Their ancient bones still existed in the museums of his future world. He had been taught what science knew of the dinosaurs… great masses of flesh with tiny brains, overgrown and stupid.
But there was something that thought, even here. He could feel the presence of minds with a new, darting intelligence, creatures that spoke and built. It was nothing that was in any way like human thinking, but it was thought.
Some sort of small dinosaur, Daniel realized with a profound sense of shock. He was aware of their moving forms, flickering… then, their cities, inhuman and enormous, their growing power. And then, swiftly, it was all gone; but how, he could not tell.
But they were very like the men of your time, the voices of the Morra-ayar said. They too turned their backs on all other life, on this planet, and went forward alone, to their doom.
Now Daniel was aware of earlier forms of the Morra-ayar, and of other kinds of creatures. He was, for a moment, a small whale which still possessed a set of swimming limbs; then he became a great colony-being of coral, and then a strange many-legged monster.
Each life-mind-being is different, the Morra-ayar said. Each is a part of all.
Except my kind, Daniel answered.
It was a choice which was made, the Morra-ayar replied. Your kind is most clever with its hands and eyes, possessed of great curiosity and swift moving. Yet your kind does not live very long, and there is no time to gain wisdom. Only by linking with others could your people have grown, and this you could not do any longer. You forgot.
Then you know the future, Daniel said.
It is not “future” to us. We are not within time, locked, as you are. We perceive forward and backward at the same time, as…
There was a strange sort of spiral, turning in upon itself so that it had neither a beginning nor an end. It floated before Daniel’s vision, spinning.
A memory stirred in his mind, and he thought, incredulously: why, it’s like the DNA molecule!
As above, so below, the voice said. The images of reality are repeated, over and over in all things.
I don’t understand, Daniel said silently. If there’s a future, and it’s all… fixed, why is there this idea of changing it? Why am I supposed to change it? If it can be changed, why don’t you do it, with all your wisdom and power?
We have no power to do this, the Morra-ayar said. We have no power at all. Every being is responsible for itself; we may not force any, nor even help, beyond our limits.
There was the curious sensation of a laugh.
Did you think we were gods, like your gods?
Daniel was swept into the flood of images again, and now he saw men. Flashing fragments of time swam past; his own time strangely mingled with a dozen other periods.
He saw war planes diving over a field where armored warriors battled, gleaming towers of glass rising out of mud-walled cities. And here and there, mixed with other faces, he saw his own; it was a blurred reflection, as if seen in a flawed glass, but it was his own face. The faces of others, friends, lovers… those too floated by.
His own time was clearest. He could see the streets and cities of his world, the familiar forms. But everything seemed to be crumbling as he watched. The cities grew darker, buildings fell into ruin, and were not rebuilt. The faces grew pale, sick, with a terrifying look of hungry evil written on each one.
Then there were fewer and fewer human forms, and those he saw seemed less human. And, at last, there was a world of death; empty, treeless, deserted, where iron bones of dead machines rusted in a freezing wind.
Now, do you understand a little? The Morra-ayar asked gently.
Yes… but why me?
Because the one who is lost brought you here, for his own purposes, the Morra-ayar replied. He sought through time, to find one who could be brought here… yourself. But because you are not of this time and place, and because you are like all your kind, free of all bonds to all other beings… you may decide as we cannot. You may change all.
He is the one who is lost, the voice sang sadly. He was one with us, wiser and older than all of us. But in one thing, he changed. He desired to go alone, into other seas, to sail in isolation and darkness while his mind sought deeper than ours could, for truth.
It is our nature that we do not like to swim alone; we find our own kind necessary, always, in the circle of the clan. He too felt that need, but he refused it, to search, yet he came back to us, always.
Then he went into that sea that lies north and east, through a
narrow channel…
An image that was not a map, yet had the appearance of one, formed in Daniel’s mind. It was a perception of space and form, like seeing the globe of the earth from the inside, outward. Yet certain patterns were recognizable, and he saw that sea to which the Morra-ayar referred. It was one great landlocked sea, as they saw it; but it covered an area where the Black and the Caspian, and the Aral, all had been in his own world and time.
He is there, in the Locked Sea, and we cannot speak with him. And now, imprisoned and alone, he is mad. He desires to die, and at the same time he desires to be free again, and live. But if he came out again, into these open seas, he would come as a destroyer, grasping the lesser beings as his slaves in a strong bond, slaying those who resisted.
He went into time, and found you; you are he who can break the ancient wall and let him free, he knows. He knows also that you are yourself free, as he is not.
Why, then, it’s simple! Daniel said silently. If I break the wall, as you say I can, then the future becomes what I’ve seen already. If I refuse, then it changes. It can’t be worse than what I knew, can it?
There was a sudden, strange total silence. He was aware again of the sea lagoon and the great, quiet shapes that floated before him, of the sound of the wind in the rock pinnacles and the distant harsh cry of a sea bird. But all else had stopped.
Then, at last, the Morra-ayar spoke again.
We are compelled by our law to neither harm nor hinder, nor deny truth. We may not force you to act, and if we did, your action would mean nothing. Nor may we force you to refuse an action by withholding truth.
Man-Daniel, you are a part of that which is to come, though you are here, and not in that future where you were born. If you refuse the act which is the key to the future… if you exert your will, at the correct moment… you will no longer exist. That which you are will be… other. In that future time, no child of your name was born, nor lived, from the moment at which you change time.
