Arthur Zagat - The Golden Age of Science Fiction Volume IX

I nodded. A slow, deep fury was rising within me. So blue was the color of sacrifice, was it? My fears hadn’t been groundless. At Caer Secaire I would have been the offering, going blindly to my doom. Matholch had known, of course. Trust his wolf-mind to appreciate the joke. Edeyrn, thinking her cool, inhuman thoughts in the shadow of her hood, she had known too. And Medea?

Medea!

She had dared betray me! Me, Ganelon!

The Opener of the Gate, the Chose of Llyr, the great Lord Ganelon! They dared! Black thunder roared through my brain. I thought: By Llyr, but they’ll suffer for this! They’ll crawl to my feet like dogs. Begging my mercy!

Rage had opened the floodgates, and Edward Bond was no more than a set of thin memories that had slipped from me as the blue cloak had slipped from my shoulders—the blue cloak of the chosen sacrifice, on the shoulders of the Lord Ganelon!

I blinked blindly around the green-clad circle. How had I come here? How dared these woodsrunners stand in defiance before me? Blood roared in my ears and the woodland swam around me. When it steadied I would draw my weapon and reap these upstarts as a mower reaps his wheat.

But wait!

First, the Coven, my sworn comrades, had betrayed me. Why, why! They had been glad enough to see me when they brought me back from the other world, the alien land of Earth. The woodsmen I could slay whenever I wished it—the other problem came first. And Ganelon was a wise man. I might need these woods-people to help me in my vengeance. Afterward—ah, afterward!

I strove hard with memory. What could have happened to turn the Coven against me? I could have sworn this had not been Medea’s original intention—she had welcomed me back too sincerely for that. Matholch could have influenced her, but again, why, why? Or perhaps it was Edeyrn, or the Old One himself, Ghast Rhymi.-In any case, by the Golden Window that opens on the Abyss, they’d learn their error!

“Edward!” a woman’s voice, sweet and frightened, came to me as if from a great distance. I fought my way up through a whirlpool of fury and hatred. I saw a pale face haloed in floating hair, the green eyes troubled. I remembered.

Beside Aries stood a stranger, a man whose cold gray eyes upon mine provided the shock I needed to bring me back to sanity. He looked at me as if he knew me—knew Ganelon. I had never seen the man before.

He was short and sturdy, young-looking in spite of the gray flecks in his close-cropped beard. His face was tanned so deeply it had almost the color of the brown earth. In his close-fitting green suit he was the perfect personification of a woodsrunner, a glider through the forest, unseen and dangerous. Watching the powerful flex of his muscles when he moved, I knew he would be a bad antagonist. And there was deep antagonism in the way he looked at me.

A white, jagged scar had knotted his right cheek, quirking up his thin mouth so that he wore a perpetual crooked, sardonic half-grin. There was no laughter in those gelid gray eyes, though.

And I saw that the circle of woodsmen had drawn back, ringing us, watching.

The bearded man put out his arm and swept Aries behind him. Unarmed, he stepped forward, toward me.

“No, Lorryn,” Aries cried. “Don’t hurt him.”

Lorryn thrust his face into mine.

“Ganelon!” he said.

And at the name a whisper of fear, of hatred, murmured around the circle of woodsfolk. I saw furtive movements, hands slipping quietly toward the hilts of weapons. I saw Aries’ face change.

The old-time cunning of Ganelon came to my aid.

“No,” I said, rubbing my forehead. “I’m Bond, all right. It was the drug the Coven gave me. It’s still working.”

“What drug?”

“I don’t know,” I told Lorryn. “It was in Medea’s wine that I drank. And the long journey tonight has tired me.”

I took a few unsteady paces aside and leaned against the boulder, shaking my head as though to clear it. But my ears were alert. The low murmur of suspicion was dying.

Cool fingers touched mine.

“Oh, my dear,” Aries said, and whirled on Lorryn. “Do you think I don’t know Edward Bond from Ganelon? Lorryn, you’re a fool!”

“If the two weren’t identical, we’d never have switched them in the first place,” Lorryn said roughly. “Be sure, Aries. Very sure!”

Now the whispering grew again. “Better to be sure,” the woodsmen murmured. “No risks, Aries! If this is Ganelon, he must die.”

The doubt came back into Aries’ green eyes. She thrust my hands away and stared at me. And the doubt did not fade.

I gave her glance for glance.

“Well, Aries?” I said.

Her lips quivered.

“It can’t be. I know, but Lorryn is right. You know that; we can take no risks. To have the devil Ganelon back, after all that’s happened, would be disastrous.”

Devil, I thought. The devil Ganelon. Ganelon had hated the woodsfolk, yes. But now he had another, greater hatred. In his hour of weakness, the Coven had betrayed him. The woods-folk could wait. Vengeance could not. It would be the devil Ganelon who would bring Caer Secaire and the Castle crashing down about the ears of the Coven!

Which would mean playing a careful game!

“Yes, Lorryn is right,” I said. “You’ve no way of knowing I’m not Ganelon. Perhaps you know it, Aries—” I smiled at her ”—but there must be no chances taken. Let Lorryn test me.”

“Well?” Lorryn said, looking at Aries.

Doubtfully she glanced from me to the bearded man.

“I—very well, I suppose.”

Lorryn barked laughter.

“My tests might fail. But there is one who can see the truth. Freydis.”

“Let Freydis test me,” I said quickly, and was rewarded by seeing Lorryn hesitate.

“Very well,” he said at last. “If I’m wrong, I’ll apologize now. But if I’m right, I’ll kill you, or try to. There’s only one other life I’d enjoy taking the more, and the shape-changer isn’t in my reach—yet.”

Again Lorryn touched his scarred cheek. At the thought of Lord Matholch, warmth came into his gray eyes; a distant ember burned for an instant there. I had seen hatred before. But not often had I seen such hatred as Lorryn held for—the wolfing?

Well, let him kill Matholch, if he could! There was another, softer throat in which I wanted to sink my fingers. Nor could all her magic protect the red witch when Ganelon came back to Caer Secaire, and broke the Coven like rotten twigs in his hands!

Again the black rage thundered up like a deluging tide. That fury had wiped out Edward Bond—but it had not wiped out Ganelon’s cunning.

“As you like, Lorryn,” I said quietly. “Let’s go to Freydis now.”

He nodded shortly. Lorryn on one side of me, Aries, puzzled and troubled, on the other, we moved up the valley, surrounded by the woodsfolk. The dazed slaves surged ahead.

The canyon walls closed in. A cave-mouth showed in the granite ahead.

We drew up in a rough semi-circle facing that cavern. Silence fell, broken by the whispering of leaves in the wind. The red sun was rising over the mountain wall.

Out of the darkness came a voice, deep, resonant, powerful.

“I am awake,” it said. “What is your need?”

“Mother Freydis, we have helots captured from the Coven,” Aries said quickly. “The sleep is on them.”

“Send them in to me.”

Lorryn gave Aries an angry look. He pushed forward.

“Mother Freydis!” he called.

“I hear.”

“We need your sight. This man, Edward Bond—I think he is Ganelon, came back from the Earth-world where you sent him.”

There was a long pause.

“Send him into me,” the deep voice finally said. “But first the helots.”

At a signal from Lorryn the woodsfolk began herding the slaves toward the cavemouth. They made no resistance. Empty-eyed, they trooped toward that cryptic darkness, and one by one, vanished.