Jack Vance - The Dying Earth

"I have magic as well, and even without I would smite you silent with my fist ere you worded the first frame of your spell."

"Ha, that we shall see," cried Javanne, skipping away. "For I have a charm of wonderful brevity." As Etarr lunged at her she spoke a charm. Etarr stopped in mid-stride, his arms fell listless to his side, and he became a creature without volition, all his will drained by the leaching magic.

But Javanne stood in precisely the same posture, and her gray eyes stared dumbly forth. Only T'sais was free—for T'sais wore Pandelume's rune which reflected magic back against him who launched it.

She stood bewildered in the dark night, the two inanimate figures standing like sleep-walkers before her. She ran to Etarr, tugged at his arm. He looked at her with dull eyes.

"Etarr! What is wrong with you?" And Etarr, because his will was paralyzed, forced to answer all questions and obey all orders, replied to her.

"The witch has spoken a spell which leaves me without volition. Therefore I cannot move or speak without command."

"What shall I do. How can I save you?" inquired the distressed girl. And, though Etarr was without volition, he retained his thought and passion. He could give her what information she asked, and nothing more.

"You must order me to a course which will defeat the witch."

"But how will I know this course?"

"You will ask and I will tell you."

"Then would it not be better to order you to act as your brain directs?"

"Yes."

"Then do so; act under all circumstances as Etarr would act."

Thus in the dark of night the spell of Javanne the witch was circumvented and nullified. Etarr was recovered and conducted himself according to his normal promptings. He approached the immobile Javanne.

"Now do you fear me, witch?"

"Yes," said Javanne. "I fear you indeed."

"Is in truth the face you stole from me black dust?"

"Your face is in the black dust of an exploded demon."

The blue eyes looked steadily at her through the slits of the hood.

"How can I recover it?"

"It is mighty magic, a reaching into the past; and now your face is of the past. Magic stronger than mine is required, magic stronger than the wizards of Earth and the demon-worlds possess. I know of two only who are strong enough to make a mold of the past. The one is named Pandelume, who lives in a many-colored land—"

"Embelyon," murmured T'sais.

"—but the spell to journey to this land has been forgotten. Then there is another, who is no wizard, who knows no magic. To get your face, you must seek it of one of these," and Javanne stopped, the question of Etarr answered.

"Who is this latter one?" he asked.

"I know not his name. Far in the past, far beyond thought, so the legend runs, a race of just people lived in a land east of the Maurenron Mountains, past the Land of the Falling Wall, by the shores of a great sea. They built a city of spires and low glass domes, and dwelt in great content. These people had no god, and presently they felt the need of one whom they might worship. So they built a lustrous temple of gold, glass and granite, wide as the Scaum River where it flows through the Valley of Graven Tombs, as long again, and higher than the trees of the north. And this race of honest men assembled in the temple, and all flung a mighty prayer, a worshipful invocation, and, so legend has it, a god molded by the will of this people was brought into being, and he was of their attributes, a divinity of utter justice.

"The city at last crumbled, the temple became shards and splinters, the people vanished. But the god still remains, rooted forever to the place where his people worshipped him. And this god has power beyond magic. To each who faces him, the god wills and justice is done. And let the evil beware, for those who face the god find no whit of mercy. Therefore few dare to bring their faces before this god."

"And to this god we go," said Etarr with grim pleasure. "The three of us, and the three of us shall face justice."

They returned across the moors to Etarr's cabin, and he searched his books for means to transport them to the ancient site. In vain; he had no such magic at his command. He turned to Javanne.

"Do you know of magic to take us to this ancient god?"

"Yes."

"What is this magic?"

"I will call three winged creatures from the Iron Mountains, and they will carry us."

Etarr gazed at Javanne's white face sharply.

"What reward do they demand?"

"They kill those whom they transport."

"Ah, witch," exclaimed Etarr, "even with your will drugged and your answer willy-nilly honest, you contrive to harm us." He stood towering over the beautiful evil of red hair and wet lips. "How may we get to the god unharmed and unmolested?"

"You must put the winged creatures under a charge."

"Summon the things," Etarr ordered, "and place them under the charge; and bind them with all the sorcery you know."

Javanne called the creatures; they settled flapping on great leather wings. She placed them under a pact of safety, and they whined and stamped with disappointment.

And the three mounted, and the creatures took them swiftly through the night air, which already smelled of morning.

East, ever east. Dawn came, and the dim red sun ballooned slowly upward into the dark sky. The black Maurenron Range passed under; and the misty Land of the Falling Wall was left behind. To the south were the deserts of Almery, and an ancient sea-bed filled with jungle; to the north, the wild forests.

All during the day they flew, over dusty waste, dry cliffs, another great range of mountains, and as sunset came they slowly sloped downward over a green parkland.

Ahead shone a glimmering sea. The winged things landed on the wide strand, and Javanne bound them to immobility for their return.

The beach, the woodland behind, both were bare of any trace of the wondrous city of the past. But a half-mile out to sea rose a few broken columns.

"The sea has come," Etarr muttered. "The city has foundered."

He waded out. The sea was calm and shallow. T'sais and Javanne followed. With the water around their waists, and dusk coming from the sky, they came through the broken columns of the ancient temple.

A brooding presence pervaded the place, dispassionate, supernal, of illimitable will and power.

Etarr stood in the center of the old temple.

"God of the past!" he cried. "I know not how you were called, or I would invoke you by name. We three come from a far land to the west to seek justice of you. If you hear and will administer us each our due, give me a sign!"

A low sibilant voice from the air: "I hear and will give each his due." And each saw a vision of a golden six-armed figure with a round, calm face, sitting impassive in the nave of a monstrous temple.

"I have been bereft of my face," said Etarr. "If you deem me fit, restore me the face I once wore."

The god of the vision extended its six arms.

"I have searched your mind. Justice shall be meted. You may remove your hood." Slowly Etarr doffed his mask. He put his hand to his face. It was his own.

T'sais looked numbly at him. "Etarr!" she gasped. "My brain is whole! I see—I see the world!"

"To each who comes, justice is done," said the sibilant voice.

They heard a moan. They turned and looked at Javanne. Where was the lovely face, the strawberry mouth, the fair skin?

Her nose was a three-fold white squirming thing, her mouth a putrefying blotch. She had dangling mottled jowls and a peaked black forehead. The only thing left of Javanne was the long red hair dangling over her shoulders.

"To each who comes, justice is done," said the voice, and the vision of the temple faded, and once more the cool water of the twilight sea lapped at their waists, and the broken columns leaned black on the sky.