by Dale Olausen
The voice tried to force her, to bend her to its will. She fought it. Oh, how she fought!
She broke loose. Suddenly she hung alone again, in the emptiness of the void. Here, nobody could force her to study her own dead face. She was free – but back in the abyss!
“Sarah, you are a ridiculously stubborn, wilful young woman.”
The voice was back! It sounded tired and exasperated, but Sarah could not bring herself to feel remorse. Nobody had the right to force her to study that awful face. It had been hers, and yet it was not now hers. It was not her!
“Of course it's not you.” Had her thoughts been loud enough for the voice to hear? “It's not you because you are where you are, and not inside that body. Understand?”
“Sort of.”
“All right. Is there anyplace, in our reality, which you can imagine very vividly, see it so well with your inner eyes that it is almost as if you were there?”
Sarah thought for a moment.
“The planet where we found the Stones.”
The place was fresh in her memory. Its wild, natural beauty was so different from the nature preserves back on Earth.
“Fine. Choose a spot there – a spot that particularly appeals to you. One that you know well. Build an image of it in your mind. Do it carefully; fill in every detail that you can. Then, will yourself to be there. You will find yourself there.”
The small mountain ledge on which Jodi's exploration unit had spent some pleasant breaks came to mind. The scenery around it was magnificent. The ledge itself had been delightful – she remembered sun-warmed rock, cool mountain breezes and alpine flowers blooming here and there among the rocks.
“Good enough,” agreed the voice. “It doesn't matter where it is. Once you're there, you can move about. We'll send someone to the planet with your body. It will be harder for you to reject it once you are face to face.”
She imagined herself to be standing on the ledge and looking down into the valley far below. It was forested, but not the green of the forests on earth. This green had a hint of brownish-red. Across the valley, the shadows cast by the nearby mountains had a soft-focus look, not sharp the way shadows usually looked back home. Like the forest, even the shadows seemed to have a slightly reddish tint. A huge orange sun was westering – how did she know what time it was? Beneath her feet was hard, warm rock. Small bright yellow flowers struggled through thin soil, here and there. A soft wind tugged gently at her dark tresses.
The picture was complete. She regarded it lovingly; then she willed herself inside it.
“I – am – on – the – ledge.” She spoke each word distinctly as she pictured herself standing there.
The black emptiness was gone. She was on the mountain ledge, exactly where she had willed herself to be. Everything looked as she had pictured it. But she could not feel the warm rock under her feet or the cool breeze on her face. She was still incomplete – still out-of-body.
Chapter Twenty-Two
In the sick room time passed slowly. The long minutes stretched into hours. Sarah lay in the bed, motionless as ever, and Coryn grew more and more uneasy. Had the Circle of the Twelve run into difficulties? When a servant appeared at the door, Coryn’s spirits sank. He arose from the chair to stare at him questioningly.
“I am to take you to the Eldest’s office,” the servant said gravely. “She wishes to speak with you.”
Coryn stepped over to Sarah’s bed and searched the blank face for any evidence of change. There were none. Impulsively, he ran his fingers through the dark hair and sighed. He nodded to the greencat – it returned his look with one that seemed to counsel patience and hope – and turned towards the door.
“Lead the way,” he said to the servant, quietly.
*****
The office of the Eldest was dominated by a huge wooden desk that took up much of the floor space. It was a beautiful piece. Coryn was reminded that Kordea was noted for more than just the Witches and their Stones. Kordean wood was valued across the galaxy for its rich colour and wonderfully complex grain - only the wealthy could afford furniture made from it. The room held little else; two chairs, a small cabinet and a low bench beneath a single small window. He could see nothing electronic, no computers or communication devices, not even papers or pens. The Agent wondered how much the Eldest of the Twelve even used the room. But then, could any Witch-work be done in something as mundane as an office?
To help pass the tense minutes, Coryn studied the world outside the lone small window. Greenery was planted outside the window, needed as a screen to protect the dwelling from the blazing white Kordean sun. The leaves were thick and rubbery – unlike human beings, the plants that grew on Kordea could not escape the brilliant sun, so they had evolved a tough outer layer. He reflected that this world was a fantastic mixture of the mystical, as represented by the seven moons, and the inescapably physical, as represented by the blistering Kordean sun.
“Ah. You are here.”
He turned at the sound of the familiar voice to stare, shocked, at the Witch Marlyss’ changed appearance. Her face was worn, her steel grey eyes had lost their sharpness, and her hair lay limply on one shoulder. Her tall form stooped noticeably and her shoulders sagged. Yet the gesture with which she motioned the Agent into the chair in front of the desk was imperious, and her movements remained graceful, if a bit stiff. Whatever defeat she may have suffered, she was still the Eldest of the Twelve, the most powerful woman on Kordea.
“What happened?” Coryn asked impatiently.
“We did not succeed,” she replied in a tired voice.
“Is there no hope at all then?”
“Hope? You mean, for Sarah?” She sounded startled, as if the question had dragged her back from some distant reverie.
“For Sarah.”
“Yes, there is hope for Sarah.” Coryn was surprised how disinterested she seemed in the girl. “Our work was not a total failure. We were able to bring her back into this dimension.”
“And?” He waited anxiously.
“The rest will be up to you.” Suddenly, some of her old spirit was back. The sharp grey eyes challenged him. “Her mind is somewhere on the planet from which the Stones came. You will have to take her body back there if you want to see her alive again. You will have to persuade her to re-join her physical self.”
Coryn wanted to ask questions about what had occurred, but the Witch’s face did not invite inquiries. Had Sarah been too stubborn for the Witch Marlyss and the Circle of the Twelve? It was possible – she certainly had a mind of her own.
“There’s something else,” the Witch added, her gaze still on Coryn. “Her mind and body have been travelling down separate roads for a while now. The longer that continues, the more difficult it will be to re-unite them. There will come a point beyond which the mind will no longer accept the body, whatever the circumstances. And I am afraid that point is fast approaching for Sarah.”
A chill went through Coryn.
“How much time do you think we have?”
“I don’t know.” She lowered her eyes and stared at the white knuckles of her veined hands. “I don’t know at all. Your Sarah Mackenzie is a complete mystery to me. I cannot make any predictions about her behaviour. All I know is, whatever she does, it will be the last thing that I expect her to do.”
*****
Coryn was tempted to uncover his wrist communicator to call Steph as soon as he had stepped out of the Eldest’s office, but he thought better of it. Kordean-Terran relations would probably not be advanced by his being seen talking into a tiny device attached to his wrist in the hallowed corridors of Ferhil Stones. He waited until he had returned to his guest room – fortunately Steph answered his summons immediately.
“Hello, Coryn. How are things out there in Witchville?” he cheerfully greeted the Agent.
“Terrible.” Coryn was not about to waste time on courtesies. “How is the Camin coming along? Is she ready for travel?”
“Hey, wait a m
inute. You want miracles? We’re doing the best we can. Nobody here is familiar with a ship like her – remember, she’s an experimental model. I’ve spent all my waking hours explaining her new features, and showing how to make the needed repairs, as best I could. And the trip was a rough one, she suffered some damage. It all takes time.
“You said things were terrible. What’s the situation?”
“Steph, I – we – have to get back to the Planet of the Amartos, double-quick.” He hesitated and swallowed. “The Witches were unable to bring Sarah back to her body, so she’s still in a coma. They tell me that her mind is somewhere on that planet, and we have to get her body there to re-join it, if she’s to have any hope of recovery. But it has to be soon – time is running out.”
“Yeah, I see,” Steph said, after a long pause. “Hang on a minute. I’ll find out how quickly the mechanics can push through the essentials.”
Coryn waited, pacing the floor anxiously.
The pilot returned to the communicator after an eternity of five minutes.
“Can you give me three and a half hours?” the pilot asked. “Maybe a little sooner if we cut a few corners we really shouldn’t cut. And it’ll take a bit of time to pick you up at Witch Central.”
“It’ll have to do.” Coryn sighed, and did his best to curb his impatience. “Chartering a ship might take days.”
“And the Camin is still the fastest ship on this planet,” Steph added. “Once we’re on our way, she’ll do the job. I’ll see you on the field in three hours, thirty minutes.”
Coryn tucked the communicator discretely back into his wrist band. Three and a half hours until take-off. Would they reach the planet of the amartos before it was too late?
*****
The Camin landed in the field outside the Ferhil Stones at the scheduled hour. Its outer shell was still pitted and discoloured, but the landfall Steph made was perfectly executed. Marlyss had chosen to be absent from the leave-taking, claiming that she was much too old to stand around in the dazzling afternoon sun. Dian had volunteered to take her place, knowing that the rest of the Circle would be glad to leave the task to her. It gave her the opportunity to spend a few extra minutes in the company of the fascinating aliens, especially the Agent, and, perhaps to see the inside of a spaceship.
During the few minutes that they stood on the field Coryn learned firsthand why the Kordeans preferred their planet’s night to its day. He had been lent a hooded garment to wear, but even so he was fast developing a pounding headache and his eyes had begun to water from the brilliant light. He noted with relief that the unconscious Sarah, who was being carried by a manservant, was protected by a thin reflective blanket. Dian, too, wore her hood over her head, her eyes well shielded. Coryn couldn’t imagine how the greencat was handling the heat, but it looked as imperturbable as ever.
He was glad that it was Dian who had come to see them off; he hoped to ask her what had happened during the Twelve’s attempt to bring Sarah back. Of the Circle of the Twelve, he knew that she was the only one he could approach with the question, and the only one that might give him an answer. But at the moment she was choosing her words carefully when she spoke – there was no trace of her earlier openness in manner towards him. From the guarded looks she threw in the direction of the manservant he guessed that it was his presence that was inhibiting her. As an Agent, he knew that servants gossiped – sometimes he depended on it. Evidently the Witch Dian was not about to give this one any reason to chatter about her.
The Camin’s hatch opened and the stairs were lowered. Steph remained in the opening, obviously unwilling to venture out into the baking heat.
“If you don’t mind”, the young Witch said to Coryn, “I can have the girl carried into the ship, and perform the ceremonial well-wishing there. This heat is... unpleasant.”
Coryn was immediately willing.
Inside the ship, Steph helped the servant settle Sarah on the couch, while Dian stood by, curiously looking around her.
“This ship is circular in shape,” she said a little hesitantly. “Is that because the circle is the perfect shape, a reflection of the divine?”
Coryn smiled at her.
“I know very little about the divine, or about spaceship engineering for that matter,” he said. “Sarah’s the expert on that. Although, Steph, here, being a well-trained pilot, knows a lot more engineering than I do.”
Steph straightened up from making Sarah comfortable, to look at the young Witch.
“Yeah,” he said with a crooked grin, “Coryn, here, got thrown out of pilot training because he couldn’t wrap his head around that kind of stuff.
“But,” he added, “the shape’s got to do with the particle accelerators that are at the heart of the ship. They are circular in cross-section.”
“Particle accelerators?” Dian did not stumble over the term.
“As far as I know they generate some sort of exotic fields that warp space and propel the ship. If the ship’s near an omega coordinate, they can be used to pull the ship into higher dimensional space – we call that omega-space. That shrinks distance, so that ships can travel the galaxy without breaking the laws of special relativity.”
“Whatever the laws of special relativity may be,” Dian said with a shrug. “I do know about dimensional space, though; I have to, to do what I do.”
Steph gave her a sharp glance. Coryn had the suspicion that Witch Dian would have performed well in any science course at any Terran university. Interesting, that.
“Terrans only partially understand the process – the machinery was invented by a different species and gifted to us. But we think that we’ve figured out the mathematical theory – sort of, anyway. It involves dimensions being folded up inside each other. If you go from one dimension to two dimensions, you shrink distance by the square root of two. If you go to three dimensions, it’s the square root of three. If you go up to a hundred dimensions, you shrink distance by a factor of ten. Some people think omega-space has infinite dimensionality, so you can shrink distance all you like. That doesn’t seem right to me, too much fooling around with infinity, but then I’m not a mathematician.”
Dian smiled.
“What you’re saying sounds as mystical as anything my colleagues could come up with.”
Steph shrugged, and Coryn smiled.
“Maybe Terrans and Kordeans have more in common than we usually think,” he said.
Dian turned her attention to Sarah. First, she sent the manservant outside.
“We don’t perform rites in front of the servants,” she tersely explained to Coryn.
Handy that, the Agent mused, plunging into the opportunity presented:
“Witch Dian,” he asked, “did anything happen when you were trying to bring Sarah back the last time? Something that might give me some idea as to what I should do or not do, once we have her body back on that planet?”
She turned to stare at his pleading eyes. Then she wrinkled her brow.
“Marlyss pressured her,” she replied. “I think that was a mistake. With some people you can’t do that. Terrans, especially, I suppose.” She paused and looked directly at him. “I don’t know if that helps.
“Without being able to channel Stone power all you can do is wait,” she added.
It was obvious to Dian that Coryn wanted more. She looked over at the greencat, which had taken up a position by Sarah’s couch.
“You have the animal with you. It can help if it chooses to. And I am leaving Sarah’s Stone with her; though you can’t use it directly, it may help in some way.
“I think – if you don’t push – she’s a person who has to make up her own mind.”
She stepped beside the girl’s unconscious form and stared at the empty face for a few seconds. Then she slid a hand into a pocket of her robe and pulled out a small gold and green stone on a delicate metal chain. The amarto was alive, but not blazing brightly; the liquid fire curled eerily within it. She held the jewel in her cupped hands
above Sarah’s blank features while her own face reflected deep concentration. After a few moments, she manoeuvred the chain over Sarah’s head and around her neck, burying the Stone underneath the folds of the Kordean tunic which she wore. Then she turned to face the Agent.
“That’s all I can do,” she said in a quiet voice. “The rest is up to you – and up to her.”
Coryn walked her to the open hatch.
“I can’t help thinking, if you could come with us…”
“Oh no, that would never do,” the Witch replied. Coryn thought he detected some faint longing in her response.
“May the Seven Moons bless your undertaking,” she recited formally. “And may you have occasion to visit us again.”
“Thank you, Witch Dian,” he replied gravely. “May you remain in peace at Ferhil Stones.”
Her eyes grew wide upon hearing him intone the correct reply to the leave-taking ritual. The look of astonishment lasted for only a few seconds, however; then proud Dian, a Circle Witch of Ferhil Stones nodded solemnly to this fascinating and surprising Terran. Pulling up her hood, she turned and descended the stairs. Coryn watched her go and smiled to think that he had at last had the opportunity to impress somebody with one tiny bit of the information he had crammed into his head before his first visit to Kordea.
*****
“Looks like you have made an influential friend,” commented Steph when Coryn returned from the door. “And quite an attractive one, if your taste runs to Witches.”
“Maybe,” Coryn replied. “I hope so. Her friendship might be invaluable in the future. Thanks for the explanation of omega space, by the way.”
“My genius friend Jaime would have laughed and shook his head, but what the hey! I’m just a spaceship pilot – I don’t really care how all that works, so long as the jumps are there when I need them.”
Coryn turned his eyes to Sarah’s vacant face and sighed.
“I think that we had better get going,” he said. “Time is slipping by.”
The pilot headed for the controls. Halfway there he stopped abruptly.
“Just a minute,” he said. “That amarto that the Witch slipped around Sarah’s neck. Won’t the Hounds be able to trace it?”
