The Dark World | Page 5

and cowled shadow sprang to flank us. The humming rose to a
deep-pitched roar -- a thunder as of crashing worlds.
"It is difficult, difficult," Medea said. "Help me, Edeyrn. Lord
Matholch."
The fires died. Around us was not the moonlit wilderness of the
Limberlost, but empty grayness, a featureless grayness that stretched to
infinity. Not even stars showed against that blank.
And now there was fear in the voice of Edeyrn.
"Medea. I have not the -- power. I stayed too long in the Earth-world."
"Open the gate!" Medea cried. "Thrust it open but a little way, or we
stay here between the worlds forever!"
The wolf crouched, snarling. I felt energy pouring out of his beast-body.
His brain that was not the brain of a beast.
Around us the golden clouds were dissipating.
The grayness stole in.
"Ganelon," Medea said. "Ganelon! Help me!"

A door in my mind opened. A formless darkness stole in.
I felt that deadly, evil shadow creep through me, and submerge my
mind under ebon waves.
"He has the power," Edeyrn murmured. "He was sealed to Llyr. Let
him call on -- Llyr."
"No. No. I dare not. Llyr?" But Medea's face was turned to me
questioningly.
At my feet the wolf snarled and strained, as though by sheer brute
strength it might wrench open a gateway between locked worlds.
Now the black sea submerged me utterly. My thought reached out and
was repulsed by the dark horror of sheer infinity, stretched forth again
and --
Touched -- something!
Llyr...Llyr!
"The gateway opens," Edeyrn said.
The gray emptiness was gone. Golden clouds thinned and vanished.
Around me, white pillars rose to a vault far, far above. We stood on a
raised dais upon which curious designs were emblazoned.
The tide of evil which had flowed through me had vanished.
But, sick with horror and self-loathing, I dropped to my knees, one arm
shielding my eyes.
I had called on -- Llyr!

III. Locked Worlds
ACHING IN every muscle, I woke and lay motionless, staring at the

low ceiling. Memory flooded back. I turned my head, realizing that I
lay on a soft couch padded with silks and pillows. Across the bare,
simply furnished room was a recessed window, translucent, for it
admitted light, but I could see only vague blurs through it.
Seated beside me, on a three-legged stool, was the dwarfed, robed
figure I knew was Edeym.
Not even now could I see the face; the shadows within the cowl were
too deep. I felt the keen glint of a watchful gaze, though, and a breath
of something unfamiliar -- cold and deadly. The robes were saffron, an
ugly hue that held nothing of life in the harsh folds. Staring, I saw that
the creature was less than four feet tall, or would have been had it stood
upright.
Again I heard that sweet, childish, sexless voice.
"Will you drink, Lord Ganelon? Or eat?"
I threw back the gossamer robe covering me and sat up. I was wearing
a thin tunic of silvery softness, and trunks of the same material. Edeyrn
apparently had not moved, but a drapery swung apart in the wall, and a
man came silently in, bearing a covered tray.
Sight of him was reassuring. He was a big man, sturdily muscled, and
under a plumed Etruscan-styled helmet his face was tanned and strong.
I thought so till I met his eyes. They were blue pools in which horror
had drowned. And ancient fear, so familiar that it was almost
submerged, lay deep in his gaze.
Silently he served me and in silence withdrew.
Edeyrn nodded toward the tray.
"Eat and drink. You will be stronger, Lord Ganelon."
There were meats and bread, of a sort, and a glass of colorless liquid
that was not water, as I found on sampling it. I took a sip, set down the

chalice, and scowled at Edeyrn.
"I gather that I'm not insane," I said.
"You are not. Your soul has been elsewhere -- you have been in exile --
but you are home again now."
"In Caer Llyr?" I asked, without quite knowing why.
Edeyrn shook the saffron robes.
"No. But you must remember?"
"I remember nothing. Who are you? What's happened to me?"
"You know that you are Ganelon?"
"My name's Edward Bond."
"Yet you almost remembered -- at the Need-fire," Edeym said. "This
will take time. And there is danger always. Who am I? I am Edeyrn --
who serves the Coven."
"Are you --"
"A woman," she said, in that childish, sweet voice, laughing a little. "A
very old woman, the oldest of the Coven, it has shrunk from its original
thirteen. There is Medea, of course, Lord Matholch -- " I remembered
the wolf -- "Ghast Rhymi, who has more