Into The Void

by Nigel Findley

  Teldin frowned. “That’s what I felt, though, like the sun at my back, but much more so. The light and heat spread through my body.”

  You cried out.

  “It hurt … but it didn’t.” Teldin paused, trying to make sense of the memory. “I don’t know,” he said eventually. “It hurt so much it felt good. Or it felt so good it hurt. I can’t really remember which, and I can’t be sure I even knew at the time.”

  Estriss nodded. I wish you to try an experiment, he said. Try to recreate those feelings. I want you to imagine them. Imagine them so strongly that you can feel them again. And – he pointed at the cabin door – I want you to protect yourself from that door.

  Teldin gaped. “What?”

  The cloak came to your defense once, the illithid said. It saved your life. What good is a defense if you cannot use it at will? I believe you must learn to control the cloak’s power, and there is only one way to learn. To experiment. To try. Try for me, he urged. The door is a creature that wishes to kill you, and you must protect yourself. Do it.

  Teldin smiled; the illithid’s words were so reminiscent of Aelfred’s sword lesson. Nevertheless, he had to admit to himself the idea was intriguing, attractive in a grim kind of way. He’d seen Vallus wield magic, to save his own life and the lives of his colleagues, and he’d assumed that such power would forever be beyond his grasp. But here was Estriss, telling him that he may be able to do something similar.

  He couldn’t ignore the illithid’s words about the dangers of the cloak. If Estriss was right, if the only way to prevent the cloak from someday killing him was to become practiced in its use, then he had to try.

  He nodded and closed his eyes. Relive the experience, he told himself. I’m back there, I have to do something or I’m dead. He remembered the sense of heat on his back, concentrated on it, tried to feel it once again. Heat and light flaring around his shoulders, pouring into his body, burning through his bones like lightning. The sense of overwhelming energy, licking through him, forcing its way out. Pain and pleasure, pleasure and pain. Live it, he told himself. He tried to recreate the sense of power welling up inside him, welling up so strongly it had to go somewhere or he’d explode. He shot a hand out toward the door ….

  Nothing.

  The intensity of the memory faded. He let it go – not without a twinge of sadness – let his concentration slip away. He opened his eyes. His chest burned from holding his breath, and when he wiped his forehead his fingers came away sweat-dampened. “I can’t,” he said dully.

  Estriss nodded. Emotion is a great part of it, I think, he mused. You feared for your life, you wished to do anything to stop your attacker, and the cloak responded to that. The creature paused. If we were to carry the experiment to its logical conclusion, I suppose I should try to attack you. His tentacles gestured amusement. But I fear the experiment might succeed too well.

  There is another possibility I would like you to try, the illithid went on, if you are willing.

  Teldin took a deep breath to ease the tension in his chest and nodded. “Nothing too drastic,” he suggested, less drastic than the last experiment, Estriss assured him. “What is it?”

  Let me tell you something mote of my research into the Juna, Estriss suggested.

  Teldin looked around for somewhere to sit. There was no mattress on the cabin’s bunk, but at least it was flat, so he settled himself on the edge.

  The legends and myths that deal with the Juna all seem to share one motif, the illithid went on. In some it is central, in others merely touched on, but it does seem to be common. He paused.

  “Go on,” Teldin prompted dutifully. “What is it?”

  Shapeshifting, Estriss said. The ability to change form, to take on different appearances. Initially I believed that this was symbolic, merely a representation of the ability to adapt to different situations, but as I delved further, I concluded that tie stories were at least partially naturalistic. I believe that the Juna were experts at shapeshifting magic. He hesitated. Will you trust me in this conclusion, or should I explain my evidence?

  “I trust you,” Teldin answered hastily.

  Estriss nodded. If the cloak was created by the Juna, as I suspect, then it may incorporate some form of shapeshifting enchantment. Will you try this for me?

  This is getting just too strange, Teldin found himself thinking, but he couldn’t say that to the illithid. After all, with what he’d seen over the past couple of days, how could he refuse to consider something just because it sounded bizarre? “How do you mean?” he asked.

  Simply put, I want you to try to assume the form of mother. Aelfred Silverhorn, for example.

  “How?”

  The illithid’s mental voice took on a calming, almost fatherly, tone. I realize it sounds outlandish, Estriss said. Or perhaps ‘outlandish’ is not a strong enough word. Believe me when I say I would not even suggest this if there were not some evidence to support my ideas. He paused. I understand that you feel somewhat embarrassed by this, is that not so?

  Teldin had to nod. He didn’t quite know why – after all, he and the illithid were the only people in the room – but he did feel embarrassed, even humiliated.

  I find it difficult to understand human emotions, Estriss went on. Would it lessen your embarrassment if I assured you that I am not doing this to put you in a position of dishonor?

  Teldin couldn’t help but smile. The illithid seemed so earnest, so guileless. “Tell me what to do,” he suggested.

  I can only guess at this, so you must bear with me, Estriss said. First, please close your eyes and build up, in your mind, a detailed picture of Aelfred Silverhorn.

  Teldin did as he was instructed. With his eyes closed, he pictured Aelfred’s face hanging in space before him. Slowly he let it build in detail: curly blond hair, close-cropped to the head; bone-white scar above the right eyebrow; lines in his weather-tanned skin, framing steady eyes; lopsided grin.

  Do you have it? Estriss asked.

  Teldin answered without opening his eyes. “Yes.”

  Take the next step. Imagine your own face next to Aelfred’s. Again, make it as detailed as you con.

  Teldin was a little surprised at how much more difficult it was to build up a picture of himself. Surely he should be more familiar with his own face, the one he wore every day? But no, he realized after a moment, that wasn’t necessarily the case. When did he see his own face? In the mirror when he shaved each day, and that was about it.

  Again he let the picture build in detail: lean face, with finely chiseled cheekbones; tanned skin, even darker than Aelfred’s; short hair of sun-bleached brown; network of crow’s-feet bracketing bright, cornflower-blue eyes.

  Now move your picture of Aelfred’s face over that of yours, Estriss instructed. Aelfred’s face must totally cover yours. Where the two faces are superimposed, both faces still exist, but only Aelfred’s is visible. Do you understand?

  In fear that speaking might somehow break his concentration, Teldin nodded wordlessly. In his mind’s eye, Aelfred’s face moved until it overlaid his own. At first he could see both sets of features in some kind of strange superimposition. Blue and gray eyes stared out of the same sockets; hair that was both brown and blond covered the head. Then, slowly, his own features began to fade from view.

  Power! He felt it, a warm tingling in his shoulders, spreading through to his chest. It was a lot more subtle than what he’d felt on the foredeck. In fact, was it really there at all? Or was it just wishful thinking on his part? After what the illithid had told him, he wanted to be able to summon the power of the cloak ….

  The mental pictures started to fade. With an effort of will, Teldin ignored his questions and the hint of power – if that was what it was – and pushed both from his mind. All that mattered at the moment were the faces he visualized.

  In his mental picture, his own features finally vanished. Only Aelfred’s remained.

  He heard a sharp, hissing intake of breath from Estriss. Slow
ly he opened his eyes.

  The mind flayer was looking at him intently. The illithid’s facial tentacles were still. In fact, the creature was as motionless as a statue.

  “Did it work?” Teldin asked.

  Estriss was silent for a moment, then asked, What do you feel? His mental tone was emotionless, noncommittal.

  The illithid’s intense scrutiny was making Teldin uneasy. He shifted on the edge of the bunk. “I think I felt something,” he said slowly, “but I’m not sure. It could have been my imagination.”

  How do you feel now? Estriss pressed. Warm? Cold?

  Teldin paused. Now that the mind flayer mentioned it, he did feel as if the temperature in the cabin had dropped a couple of degrees. Plus, he felt the thin, somehow edgy feeling he always associated with not enough sleep or not enough to eat. “Slightly cool,” he replied at last. “Estriss, did it work?”

  Estriss didn’t answer immediately, and that was answer enough. Teldin raised a hand to his face, ran his fingers over his nose and cheek ….

  And snatched his hand away with a stifled cry. It wasn’t his face that he’d touched. The nose was broader, tie cheekbones less pronounced. Even the texture of the skin was different. The sensations from his fingers were as if he’d reached out and touched someone else’s face, yet the nerves of his face felt his exploring fingers as if nothing at all were amiss. The combination of the prosaic with the alien was shocking – terrifying at some deep level of his being. He sprang to his feet and looked around the cabin for something he could use for a mirror.

  Estriss had anticipated his need. The illithid had removed a thin disk of finely polished silver metal from a drawer in the desk and now handed it to Teldin without a word.

  Teldin held the mirror at chest level for a few heartbeats. He knew what he was going to see; there would be no surprise. How would it feel to see someone else’s face in place of his? How would he react? He took a deep breath and raised the minor.

  The biggest shock was that there was no real shock. The face in the polished silver was Aelfred’s, there was no doubt about that, but emotionally it had little real impact. It was as if Aelfred was standing beside him and Teldin was holding the mirror at such an angle that it reflected the other man’s face. He raised his hand to his cheek again.

  That’s when the shock struck him, almost powerfully enough to make him drop the mirror. It was the juxtaposition of the familiar and the bizarre again. The muscles of his arm and hand told him that he was raising his hand to his own face. The mirror told him he was reaching for Aelfred’s face. The reassuring falsehood that the face in the mirror somehow wasn’t associated with his body was shattered. He clenched his jaw to stop himself from whimpering with atavistic dread. In the mirror, Aelfred’s face mimicked the movement.

  A touch on his shoulder made him jump. Estriss’s hand squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. With an effort, Teldin brought his jumbled emotions a little more under control. “I’m all right,” he said quietly. Surprisingly, his voice sounded steady in his own ears. He examined the face in the mirror again, this time trying to be more critical and less emotional in his reactions.

  There was something wrong with the image, he realized at once – apart from the total wrongness of his wearing the wrong face, of course. The individual features seemed correct, almost perfectly matching his memory of Aelfred, but there was something else, and it took him several moments to recognize it. The face was Aelfred’s, but the neck and shoulders beneath it were Teldin’s. Aelfred’s head was large – in keeping with the rest of his body – and his neck was thick and muscular. In the mirror, the warrior’s big head sat atop Teldin’s relatively slender neck.

  He felt his neck with his fingers. At least there was no discontinuity there; his neck felt the way it always had. Can I change it? he wondered. He closed his eyes and started to concentrate on rebuilding his mental image of Aelfred – the neck too, this time.

  The illithid’s grip on his shoulder tightened, breaking into his concentration. He opened his eyes again.

  Estriss was distressed, that was obvious from the jerky movements of his facial tentacles. No, his mental voice said urgently. Do nothing more, not for the moment. Let us move slowly. Tell me again, what do you feel?

  Teldin quickly gave himself a mental once-over. The sense of cold, of somehow being stretched – that was the only way he could describe it, even to himself – was still there. Maybe it was slightly more noticeable. He described the sensation to Estriss.

  The mind flayer nodded thoughtfully. Km are sensing the drain, he mused. You are contributing energy to the process. Estriss considered for a moment. The shapechange appears to testable, he went on. Tell me, are you concentrating on maintaining it?

  “I don’t think so,” replied Teldin.

  Relax, Estriss instructed. Let go. Let the change slip away.

  Obediently, Teldin took a deep breath, held it for a few heartbeats, then released it slowly. He felt tension drain out of his neck and shoulders. He repeated the process again, this time concentrating on relaxing his mind as well as his body, then he raised the mirror. Aelfred’s face still looked back at him, and he felt a twinge of fear. What if he couldn’t reverse the change? What would he do? “Estriss …?”

  You are right, the illithid remarked, you do not need to concentrate on the new shape to maintain it. It must require an act of will to return to your normal form. That is good.

  “But how do I do it?” Teldin snapped.

  Try this, Estriss replied at once. Visualize Aelfred’s features melting may to reveal your own.

  Teldin shut his eyes. He took another calming breath to slow his pounding heart a little, then let the image of Aelfred develop once more in his mind. This time it was much easier, and he was amazed at how quickly the details established themselves. It must be the cloak that’s doing this, he found himself thinking, I don’t have that good a memory for details.

  As Estriss had suggested, he imagined Aelfred’s features melting away – becoming transparent and running away like water. Instantly his own, familiar features started to reappear in his mental image. The eyes became blue once more, the hair brown, the bone structure more slender. As his own face appeared, he realized that this felt quite different from when he’d had to first create a mental picture of himself. Then he’d been building up the features from nothing. Now it felt as though the features were already there, independent of his will, and he was merely revealing them. There was no sensation of power this time, not even the hint of it. Instead he felt the cold, stretched feeling fade and eventually vanish. He opened his eyes.

  Fascinating. The illithid’s voice was a mental whisper.

  Teldin raised the mirror and found himself looking into his familiar bright blue eyes. He smiled with relief, and the smile in the mirror was his own.

  How do you fed now? Estriss asked.

  “Fine.”

  Are you not tired?

  Teldin hesitated. “A little tired, I suppose,” he said, “as though I’d walked a few miles.” He hesitated. “What does it look like?” he asked suddenly. “The change …”

  It looks … unusual, Estriss answered. Your face appears to be concealed by a gray haze, similar to a smudge on a painting. When the haze vanishes, the change is complete. It was the illithid’s turn to hesitate. I will admit, he said slowly, that I am glad for the haze. The sight of your features rearranging themselves – openly, without concealment – would, I think, be highly disturbing to me. He shook himself, as if to drive away an uncomfortable thought or image. Will you perform one more test for me?

  “What is it?”

  Take on another face, Estriss urged, someone other than Aelfred. I wish to see if you find it easier the second time. Just the face, he added. There is no need to risk overreaching yourself. First, however, do you object to having Aelfred Silverhorn witness this? I believe it is important that he knows – both because he is your friend, and because he should know anything that might have some
significance to running the ship.

  Teldin hesitated. He agreed that Aelfred should know about this, but he knew that the big warrior felt uncomfortable about magic. Plus, “He’s asleep,” Teldin told the illithid.

  Estriss shrugged. I have called him. If he answers the call, he was not asleep. I repeat, do you object?

  “No.”

  There was a sharp rap on the door. The illithid’s mental voice rang out, Come in.

  It was Aelfred, of course. The big man looked bedraggled, Teldin noted immediately: short hair in disarray, face pale, and the skin below his eyes puffy. He might have slept, but it certainly hadn’t been enough. “Yes?” he said, his voice still a sleep-roughened burr.

  The warrior’s quick eyes took in the scene – both Teldin and Estriss standing, tense, in the middle of the room – and his face lit up with interest. “Oh ho” he rumbled. “Having a deep little discussion, are we? Any more surprises for us, Teldin, old son?”

  We wish you to witness something. Estriss’s mental voice was calm, reassuring. We think you should be aware of it. The illithid turned to Teldin. Do it as quickly as you can, the creature instructed. As part of the test.

  Teldin nodded and closed his eyes again.

  He could tell immediately that it was going to be much easier this time. A detailed vision of his own face sprang to mind instantly – almost as though it had been there all along, just waiting for him to need it. Whose should be the other race? he wondered.

  He wasn’t even aware that he’d decided until the image appealed in his mind. He let the new face superimpose itself over his own ….

  “By all the gods …!” Aelfred’s voice was hushed, amazed – horrified?

  Teldin opened his eyes. Another familiar face was staring back at him from the mirror – one with tight – curled brown hair and dark, flashing eyes. Teldin reached up with his hand and touched the cheek of Dana, the gnome. I can’t bring you back, he thought, but if I can learn enough about my burden that it won’t claim any more innocent lives, as it claimed yours, at least that’ll be something. He turned Dana’s eyes on Aelfred.