Eye of the Comet

by Pamela Sargent

  She tried not to think of what would happen when the day came, as it eventually would, when all the supplies were exhausted. The water might be the first thing to go; they were cut off from both the river and the field’s ditches. They would have to hope for more rain, even though the force field was likely to prevent much of it from reaching them.

  Lydee fidgeted, plucking at her hair; the singed ends were dry and brittle. She was enclosed in this village; the stink of the bodies around her was almost more than she could bear. She looked down at her dirt-stained tunic; she was as filthy as the rest.

  What were the Earthpeople outside waiting for? If they had enough strength to enclose them inside the force field, they could, with only a little more exertion, crush them entirely. That thought made her shudder. Luret glanced at her, concern in her green eyes. The wall already seemed closer.

  They moved forward and found themselves in front of Leito. Luret greeted her great-grandmother while Marellon handed the old woman their waterskins. Leito filled them, then took the skin they had given to Lydee.

  “Now we give skydwellers our precious water,” Wiland said.

  — Silence yourself — Leito’s green eyes narrowed. — They are trapped here with us and will share what we have — Wiland scowled as he accepted provisions from another old woman, then hurried away.

  — Two days — Leito thought, handing Lydee her water and directing them to Cerwen, who was helping to hand out food. — Your water must last you that long — Lydee frowned, already feeling thirsty. She would not have much to drink; bathing would be impossible.

  Luret and Marellon accepted a roasted chicken from Cerwen; Lydee averted her eyes from the dead, plucked fowl. The old man held out a small pouch of corn; she shook her head, refusing it.

  — It’s little enough for two days — Cerwen thought.

  — I can go without food for a while —

  Cerwen did not insist, turning to the next villager as the three young people walked out of the public space. Reiho was saving one last small packet of food out of the two he had found in his pockets and had promised to share it with her later. After that, she would be forced to eat village food, and when the grain and fruit gave out, she might be reduced to eating meat. The thought nauseated her. She wondered exactly how long she could go without food before her body began to weaken; Homesmind could have told her.

  — The skydwellers have brought us death again — The thought was sharp. She looked back at the line of villagers, trying to see who had thought it. — When they came, we should have sent them away and punished Daiya for bringing them —

  — Don’t heed such notions — Marellon said to her.

  — They may be true —

  — Don’t think that —

  She stopped near one garden and turned to him.

  — I’m helpless now. Without the shuttle, I’m more helpless than you —

  — I think — Luret replied, — that we are all equally helpless —

  * * *

  Lydee awoke, feeling uneasy. The air was still, as if a storm were about to break; her neck prickled. Reiho stirred next to her; Marellon and Luret were sitting up. Daiya still slept.

  — Do you sense it too? — Luret asked.

  Lydee nodded. Someone was outside, waiting, but the thoughts of that person were shielded. She got up and went to the doorway, feeling as though she was being drawn there against her will.

  A small crowd had gathered outside the hut, Silla at its head. Wiland was with her, along with a tall, pale woman from one of the neighboring huts, two older people, and several young men and women. Reiho moved closer to the doorway and peered out at the villagers.

  “What do you want?” Lydee said aloud, trying to keep her voice calm.

  “Come outside,” Silla replied.

  Lydee walked toward the crowd, stopping a few paces away. Silla’s eyes narrowed. “What is it you want?” Reiho called out.

  “We’ve come for you, skydwellers. It is time.”

  Lydee threw up a wall around her mind. “Time for what?” she said faintly, though she already knew.

  “Time for you to meet your deaths,” Silla said.

  Reiho made a sound of protest. Lydee glanced back at him as he sagged against the doorway. Luret suddenly pushed past him, followed by Marellon. — Leave them alone — the girl thought.

  “Do you want to fight us, too?” Silla asked. “It’s time to rid ourselves of this curse. If you fight us, we’ll take your lives as well.”

  “You aren’t strong enough,” Marellon said.

  “Stay out of this,” Wiland said, and then more softly, “I don’t want to hurt you.” He was looking at Luret, who gazed back with angry eyes.

  “Do you think you can frighten us away?” Silla shouted. “We are already dying. Our food and water will run out, and then we’ll starve and spend our last days in a prolonged agony. If we die assaulting these skydwellers, we will either be reunited with God for having done the right thing or we’ll lift this curse.” She folded her arms. “For the first time in my life, I am glad I have no children to witness such evil days.”

  “The evil is in you, sister.” Daiya was at the doorway, leaning on her stick. Lydee watched her, surprised; Daiya’s eyes were clear and her voice had its old resonance. “Go away, Silla. You don’t know what you’re doing. We mustn’t fight now, but should draw closer.”

  “How can you say that? Have you forgotten Anra and Brun so quickly? They died because of that girl and that man.”

  “I live because of that girl and that man. And Anra and Brun helped her willingly. The Minds under the mountains will not ignore our need — you must believe me.”

  “I have touched your thoughts,” Silla replied. “You are mad, Daiya, and your mind creates false images and false hopes. I think you are hoping for my death so that you can go to Harel. I see that we must fight you, too.”

  Reiho was pale. Lydee sensed his agitation; he was already seeing the death he had expected. Kal suddenly appeared behind him as Nenla came outside.

  “Go, Silla,” the red-haired woman said firmly. “These skydwellers are guests in our home. I can’t let you harm them.”

  “You don’t frighten me, Nenla. You and my cousin Kal have grown separate from us for a long time. You’ll only die with them.”

  Lydee’s hands were fists; she kept them at her sides, longing to strike out at Silla. Many people could die in a battle; others might join in. A few were already gathering outside the nearest huts, waiting to see what would happen; if the villagers lashed out at one another during the fray, even the Merging Selves might be unable to stop it.

  “I won’t fight you,” Lydee said, feeling as if the words were being torn from her. “If you’ve come for me, then try to take me. But leave the others alone. Reiho’s done nothing, and won’t act against you. Take me if you want, but leave him.”

  “No,” Reiho said. “I’ll stand with you, Lydee.”

  — We must fight — Marellon thought. Lydee shook her head. — You can’t just give in —

  “We’ll be merciful,” Silla said. “If you don’t fight, we’ll give you a quick and gentle death. You won’t suffer.” Lydee sensed the impatience of those around Silla.

  Reiho came to Lydee’s side. “It’s over,” he muttered in their own tongue. “We can’t fight them alone, and we can’t let others risk their lives on our account.” His jaw tightened. “At least we won’t have to struggle with these ignorant fools and their cursed ways.”

  She took his hand. Anger welled up inside her; she was afraid that if she released it, her rage would wash over the village in a boiling torrent. Turning toward Marellon, she said, “You must promise me not to fight. This isn’t your battle. You mustn’t die because of me.”

  — But — the boy began to object.

  “Swear that you won’t, all of you. Swear it by that God of yours. I don’t want such a thing on my conscience. You think your God is merciful to those who do the right thing. Maybe
your deity will even accept an unbeliever if her actions spare others.” She tried to give the words some conviction.

  “Then we won’t act, if that is what you wish.” Marellon’s brown eyes glistened; Luret was choking back tears.

  Do they actually care for me so much? Lydee asked herself. Have I grown to love them? She supposed that she had in her own way, but her emotions still seemed pallid next to theirs. Luret’s warm feelings of friendship could bind one tightly; Marellon’s restrained desire often made him seem feverish. She could offer them compassion and some understanding; she had little else to give. No, that was not quite right; she would be giving her life, and maybe that would make up for what she could not offer. Her anger faded, replaced by a cold determination.

  “Swear that none of you will try to help me no matter what happens,” Lydee said.

  — We swear — Marellon thought; the words throbbed with pain. Nenla stared at the ground as Kal’s arm encircled her. Daiya rested her head against her pole.

  Still clutching Reiho’s hand, Lydee faced Silla. “Take us, then,” she said firmly. “But don’t expect it to be easy. I’ll resist you, and if I die, you’ll feel every moment of my death with me.”

  Wiland backed away. — I’ll have no part of this — the young man thought. — If she had wanted to bring evil to the village, she would have allowed her friends there to fling themselves upon us and watched as we destroyed ourselves —

  “Fool!” Silla shouted. “I’ll fight them even if I must do it alone.”

  Lydee had her mental shield up before Silla could strike; it trembled under the crowd’s assault. Her link burned. She fortified her shield and drew closer to Reiho’s mind. If she bore the brunt of the crowd’s blows, she might be able to drain their strength and spare her mentor.

  — No — Reiho was thinking as he built a wall around her. — Let me save you —

  — Don’t fight me now — Her wall was weakening; she drew more power, wondering how long she could hold out. Silla’s mind howled; needles pricked Lydee’s nerves. A beast, as black as space, began to take shape in the road; its red eyes glowed as claws formed under its shapeless body. Each claw was a villager’s mind, ready to rend and tear. Lydee cried out at the sight; her fear was cracking her wall. Another mind touched hers; Wiland was trying to fortify her wall, and she remembered that he had not sworn an oath with the others. She thrust his mind away.

  The creature isn’t really there, she told herself. The beast flickered for a moment, then roared. The sound was a blow; Lydee fell to the ground. Reiho was kneeling, hands on his ears as he buttressed his wall.

  The beast undulated toward her, rearing as it struck; a claw slashed her. Lydee clutched her chest; her hand was wet. Blood oozed from a wound near her ribs, staining her tunic as the beast reached inside her, squeezing her heart and lungs. The crowd was winning; they had wounded her by turning her mind’s strength against her. At that thought, her wall collapsed. She struggled for breath.

  — Stop — a man’s mind cried.

  The beast disappeared. Lydee gasped; her heart was racing. Reiho’s thoughts enclosed her as he tried to stanch the flow of blood.

  — Stop. What are you doing? — Harel was running toward his partner. A whip of light flashed out from the crowd, striking Harel and knocking him to the ground.

  “Stop,” Harel cried aloud.

  Lydee gathered the shards of her fractured mind. Harel threw up his hands as the whip danced over his shoulders; Wiland was trying to shield him. Lydee formed a mental blade; before she could stop herself, the blade slashed toward Silla.

  The woman was suddenly in the air, screaming as she flew toward a hut. She crashed against the bricks and slid to the ground as Lydee watched, horrified at what she had done to Silla. The crowd was still, its walls up; one man covered his face.

  Lydee struggled to her feet and stumbled toward Silla, unable to sense her sister’s thoughts. The crowd parted, letting her pass. She had meant only to save Harel. Now I’ve killed, she thought; now I’m a murderer.

  — Murderer — the crowd echoed with the beast’s voice.

  “Silence!” Harel shouted, walling them in with Wiland’s aid; a few turned away, abandoning the battle.

  Lydee dropped next to Silla, reaching out with a mental strand. Her sister’s mind was failing. She clung to the wispy thoughts as they threatened to escape her grasp, then thrust her mind inside Silla’s.

  She was in a long, dark tunnel, being pulled rapidly toward a speck of light; Silla was dying. Her speed increased, the light drawing her on even as Lydee tried to pull back. Silla was not even trying to live.

  — Leave me — a voice said feebly.

  — I won’t let you die — Lydee’s mind answered. — I won’t let you go — With all her strength, she resisted, holding Silla’s fading thoughts as tightly as she could. The distant light was growing larger; only a thin thread still bound Lydee to her own body. Silla would claim her life after all.

  Lydee held on as darkness swept over her and drowned her mind.

  * * *

  She blinked. A dark shape loomed over her, outlined by the blue sky; it dropped to her side, and she made out Marellon’s face. Luret was next to him, eyes wide with concern; Wiland stood behind her.

  Lydee groaned, then felt her chest. The bleeding had stopped; she could not find her wound. Marellon eased her up with one strong arm. Her head swam as she leaned against him.

  — Silla — she thought, barely able to project the name. “I didn’t mean to.”

  — Silla’s alive — the boy answered, propping her up against the wall of the hut. At her right, she now saw, Harel and Kal were ministering to Silla, wiping her brow. — She’s weak — Marellon continued, — and some bones are broken, but you brought her back. She’ll be well —

  “I tried to kill her.”

  — You didn’t mean to. Even Silla will see that. And you could have let her die, but you didn’t —

  The crowd had dispersed. Harel and Kal lifted Silla gently and carried her toward Kal’s hut, supporting her outstretched body with their minds. Daiya and Nenla followed them inside. Reiho watched them, then came over to Lydee.

  “Maybe I should have let her die,” she said harshly as her mentor sat down. “She’ll probably curse me for saving her.” She lowered her head, appalled at her words. “Listen to me. Now I’ve wished for another’s death. This world has made a savage of me.”

  — No — Marellon thought, nudging her gently with his mind. — You spared one who wanted your death and struck her only to save another —

  — You have shown me my mistake — Wiland said, lowering his lids over his dark eyes. — You offered your own life for Luret’s. I’m still afraid to reach out to you, for your mind feels cold and strange, but at least now I am restored to the one who loves me. We’ll share what little time is left —

  “You are truly my friends,” Lydee said. “I don’t know if my friends on the Wanderer would have offered to defend me as you did.”

  Marellon’s head drooped. — You may be saying that only because you may never see your home again —

  Reiho stood up, shading his eyes as he gazed out at the field. His mouth dropped open. “What is that?” he asked, pointing. Luret rose, covering a cheek with one hand. “Out there. Do you see?” His voice broke on the last word as his fear chilled the air.

  Marellon helped Lydee to her feet. Beyond the field, small, dark shapes moved on the plain’s horizon. She squinted, trying to focus. A long line of people was moving toward them. Many rode in carts; others were leading horses weighed down with sacks and bags.

  Lydee hung on to Marellon’s arm. “Other Earthfolk,” she said, picking up the boy’s thoughts. “They’re coming for us. They’ve come for us at last.”

  12

  Thousands of Earthfolk had converged on the village, setting up camp outside the force field. To the south, east, and north, encampments bordered the fields; in the west, another group had dug in o
n the other side of the river.

  Their tents had become sails lifting in the wind as the invaders began to pitch them; then they had turned into birds fluttering large wings. Soon, a field of tents had covered the land, some of them elaborate and colorful pavilions of cloth, others little more than hides held up by poles. Riders on horseback, clothed in leather leggings and vests, rode at the edges of the fields; the legs of their mounts were hidden by clouds of dust. People in loincloths and beads had formed a line to the south and were carrying water from the river in buckets. The village was under seige.

  — They’ll win — Lydee said to Marellon as they walked along the village’s perimeter, gazing out at the invaders; already the Earthfolk were harvesting what was left in the fields. — They’ve come to watch us die —

  — Their food might give out before ours —

  — I don’t think so — Reiho said from behind them; he was walking with Luret and Wiland. — All they need to do is wait until we’re weak and can’t fight. If they need more food, they can send out hunting parties, and the river will provide water. They can wait and then take us with little risk to themselves —

  They came to the riverbank and leaned against the force field, staring at the opposite shore. Several small children were splashing in the shallows, as if the seige were only an outing and a chance to play. Adults lingered near the young ones, gazing suspiciously toward the village. Wiland made a fist with his right hand and struck his left palm.

  The atmosphere of the village had changed after the shock and dismay of seeing its enemies approach had passed. The sullenness, passivity, and despair had been dispelled, replaced by a nervous anxiety and even some anticipation of a last battle. The waiting was over. Other villagers were gathering along the wall, watching to see what would happen now.

  The Earthfolk had been arriving all day. Lydee supposed that, in the distance, others were still arriving. It seemed as if all Earth was coming to pass judgment, though that couldn’t be possible; those on other continents would not have been able to make the journey. It hardly mattered. Those far away had probably linked their thoughts in a long chain connecting them to those outside in order to witness the battle; the village would face the combined force of thousands of minds. It would not be a battle but a slaughter.