The Dark World | Page 4

heard was soothing, gentle as a woman's crooning voice.
The golden square wavered -- shook -- and little tendrils of crepuscular
light fingered out toward me. Ever the low humming came, alluring
and disarming.
Golden fingers -- tentacles -- they darted here and there as if puzzled.

They touched lamp, table, carpet, and drew back. They -- touched me.
Swiftly they leaped forward now -- avid! I had time for a momentary
pulse of alarm before they wrapped me in an embrace like golden sands
of sleep. The humming grew louder. And I responded to it.
As the skin of the flayed satyr Marsyas thrilled at the sound of his
native Phrygian melodies! I knew this music. I knew this -- chant!
Stole through the golden glow a crouching shadow -- not human -- with
amber eyes and a bristling mane -- the shadow of a wolf.
It hesitated, glanced over its shoulder questioningly. And now another
shape swam into view, cowled and gowned so that nothing of its face
or body showed. But it was small -- small as a child.
Wolf and cowled figure hung in the golden mists, watching and waiting.
The sighing murmur altered. Formed itself into syllables and words.
Words in no human tongue, but -- I knew them.
"Ganelon! I call you, Ganelon! By the seal in your blood -- hear me!"
Ganelon! Surely that was my name. I knew it so well.
Yet who called me thus?
"I have called you before, but the way was not open. Now the bridge is
made. Come to me, Ganelon!"
A sigh.
The wolf glanced over a bristling shoulder, snarling. The cowled figure
bent toward me. I sensed keen eyes searching me from the darkness of
the hood, and an icy breath touched me.
"He has forgotten, Medea," said a sweet, high-pitched voice, like the
tone of a child.
Again the sigh. "Has he forgotten me? Ganelon, Ganelon! Have you

forgotten the arms of Medea, the lips of Medea?"
I swung,' cradled in the golden mists, half asleep.
"He has forgotten," the cowled figure said.
"Then let him come to me nevertheless. Ganelon! The Need-fire burns.
The gateway lies open to the Dark World. By fire and earth, and
darkness, I summon you! Ganelon!"
"He has forgotten."
"Bring him. We have the power, now."
The golden sands thickened. Flame-eyed wolf and robed shadow swam
toward me. I felt myself lifted -- moving forward, not of my own
volition.
The window swung wide. I saw the sword, sheathed and ready. I
snatched up the weapon, but I could not resist that relentless tide that
carried me forward. Wolf and whispering shadow drifted with me.
"To the Fire. Bring him to the Fire."
"He has forgotten, Medea."
"To the Fire, Edeyrn. To the Fire."
Twisted tree-limbs floated past me. Far ahead I saw a flicker. It grew
larger, nearer. It was the Need-fire.
Faster the tide bore me. Toward the fire itself --
Not to Caer Llyr!
From the depths of my mind the cryptic words spewed. Amber-eyed
wolf whirled to glare at me; cowled shadow swept in closer on the
golden stream. I felt a chill of deadly cold drive through the curling
mists.

"Caer Llyr," the cloaked Edeyrn whispered in the child's sweet voice.
"He remembers Caer Llyr -- but does he remember Llyr?"
"He will remember! He has been sealed to Llyr. And, in Caer Llyr, the
Place of Llyr, he will remember."
The Need-fire was a towering pillar a few yards away. I fought against
the dragging tide.
I lifted my sword -- threw the sheath away. I cut at the golden mists
that fettered me.
Under the ancient steel the shining fog-wraiths shuddered and were
torn apart -- and drew back. There was a break in the humming
harmony; for an instant, utter silence.-
Then --
"Matholch!" the invisible whisperer cried. "Lord Matholch!"
The wolf crouched, fangs bared. I aimed a cut at its snarling mask. It
avoided the blow easily and sprang.
It caught the blade between its teeth and wrenched the hilt from my
grip.
The golden fogs surged back, folding me in their warm embrace.
"Caer Llyr," they murmured.
The Need-fire roared up in a scarlet fountain.
"Caer Llyr!" the flames shouted.
And out of those fires rose -- a woman!
Hair dark as midnight fell softly to her knees. Under level brows she
flashed one glance at me, a glance that held question and a fierce
determination. She was loveliness incarnate. Dark loveliness.

Lilith. Medea, witch of Colchis!
And --
"The gateway closes," the child-voice of Edeym said.
The wolf, still mouthing my sword, crouched uneasily. But the woman
of the fire said no word.
She held out her arms to me.
The golden clouds thrust me forward, into those white arms.
Wolf