Wielding a Red Sword (28 page)

The salamander’s mind was small and vicious, but again it was easy to read, because the operating instructions were uppermost. Its name was Sweetbreath, and it would not attack the one who spoke that name. When smoke clouded the region, a hole would open in the wall.

Mym phased out and dropped the salamander, stepping hastily back before it could snap at him. Then he glanced about, perceived no other demon, and fetched an armful of slightly damp leaves from the adjacent forest floor. He dumped these on the salamander’s head.

Of course the creature fired the leaves. A dense cloud of smoke and steam puffed up, covering the path.

Now Mym spoke the name: “Sweetbreath.”

The salamander froze in place. Mym stepped into the smoke, deliberately breathing and keeping his eyes open, and verified that he was unaffected. There were certainly compensations to being an Incarnation! His vision was impaired because of the thickness of the smoke, but there was no personal discomfort.

He felt along the wall, but found no opening. Had he misunderstood? The smoke was beginning to thin.

Then he realized that there were two walls here. He lurched across to the other, and passed through it and into the ground. Success after all!

He was in another cave, this time a dry one. He touched the Sword, and it emitted a glow that enabled him to proceed without stumbling. The cavern wended its way through the hill and emerged at the other side.

A lovely valley opened out before him, with ornate bushes and colorful grasses. From above, the pattern of vegetation resembled a labyrinth, but there were no teeth in it, for it was easy to pass around the bushes. Here, too, it would have been pleasant to remain and relax—if he only had time.

He strode on through—but as he proceeded he discovered that the bushes were getting denser and thornier, closing off the routes around them. He had to pick out an appropriate route, and finally found himself channeled into one, that led to a central glade at the deepest crevice of the valley. Above, on the far side, stood the Green Mother’s fancy tree house, not far away at all. At last!

But in the glade was a single item of standing deadwood, a petrified tree, and on a branch of that tree perched a harpy. He would have recognized her by the smell alone.

Well, challenges seemed to run in threes. He would have to phase in to her and learn the correct way past.

“Ho, miscreant!”

Another demon! “How did you get through?” Mym demanded, frustrated by this pursuit by his likenesses.

“I masked myself as a piece of stone and watched what you did,” the demon said. It was evident that these creatures lacked the subtlety of their master. It didn’t occur to them not to answer a direct question. “Then I did likewise. Now I shall watch you again.”

“Oh, no, you shan’t!” Mym returned, drawing the Sword.

The demon showed no fear. It drew its own sword, which looked identical, and met him at the edge of the glade. The two blades touched—and the demon’s was cut in half. It was no more than normal demon substance, having no super-hardness.

But how, then, had the other demon slain the salamander? There had to be more to the weapon than this!

The demon leaped at him, striking with the remaining part of the sword. Mym dodged and ran his own point through the other’s torso. The blade slid through and emerged on the other side, but the demon did not stop; it walked on up the Sword and struck again at Mym.

There was a clang as the demon’s weapon stuck Mym’s cloak and rebounded. Mym felt the impact; that sword certainly did have substance!

He twisted his own weapon about and lifted it in an upward sweep. It cut the demon in half, from the belly up through the head, but the creature did not fall. Mym brought his blade down and chopped from the side, and half of the upper torso of the demon, including its left arm, fell off, cleanly severed along horizontal and vertical lines. But the right side continued to fight.

Mym increased his effort and hacked the demon to pieces. Now at last it was finished. This business of fighting demons was strange. They seemed to feel little or no pain or fear, had no blood, and they talked and fought freely while intact. What motivated them? They could seem most human at times, yet most alien at other times.

He turned again to the harpy, who had watched this without reaction. He was sure he could deal with her—but how could he be sure that more demons weren’t watching? If they could mask themselves as stones or other items, they could be all around. It would be better to wait a bit before making his move.

“How are you?” he asked the harpy.

Now she reacted. “Unsssex me here!” she exclaimed, spitting at him.

“I gather you are not very sociable,” he said with a smile. He had hardly expected otherwise.

“I have given sssuck!” she screeched indignantly.

Mym still saw no other demons, so he proceeded. He picked up one of the destroyed demon’s arms and tossed it to her. The harpy caught it with one claw and tore into it with her teeth; in a moment the demon-substance was being shredded. But while she was partially distracted with that morsel, Mym reached up to touch her wing, channeling his identity quickly through the connection and phasing in with her as well as he was able.

She was Lady MacBeth, and when a cloud of dust obscured the region, a hole would open in the ground. That was all; this was just another variant of the usual device.

He disengaged and picked up a larger morsel of demon. He heaved it at the harpy, but it fell low, so that she could not catch it. In a fury she flapped her wings so hard that a cloud of dust was stirred up.

Now he spoke her name: “Lady MacBeth.” The harpy froze, and Mym walked into the dust and found the hole in the ground. He stepped down into it and found himself in still another cave.

This time he did not proceed forward. He turned and waited.

Sure enough, a demon followed. Mym lopped off the thing’s head, then sliced up the rest of the body, until the pieces lost their animation.

Another demon appeared. Mym dispatched that one too.

He waited, but no more demons came. This, then, should be the end of them; as far as he could tell, demons were not bright creatures and acted the moment they saw reason to. Any who were able to follow should have done so by now.

He turned and went on down the passage he was in. It brought him to a nether gate. He opened this and found stairs leading up. At the top of the flight he found a green and brown room.

“Why, fancy meeting you here,” Gaea said.

“The approach was more difficult than I expected,” Mym said, realizing that he had at last entered her domicile.

“Those demons are a nuisance,” she said. “Permit me.” She gestured, and a swarm of flies seemed to issue from her hand. They buzzed about Mym and landed on his cloak.

Suddenly there were puffs of smoke all about him. “W-
W-W
-what?” he asked, startled.

“They are stinging the remaining demons into oblivion,” Gaea explained.

Mym was dismayed. “You mean I brought some in with me?” he sang.

“Indeed,” she agreed. “But I have dealt with them now.”

“But then your barriers—they didn’t work!”

Gaea smiled. “They worked, Mars. They showed me which of the thousands of false images was the real Mars. I have no fear of demons here; I merely dislike being deceived. I would have had no rest at all if I had watched every image; as it is, I have to watch only you. What brings you here?”

“I am supervising an engagement in which one side means to use gene-splicing to create a virus that infects only the folk of the other side. I thought you would have an interest.”

Gaea pursed her lips. “Indeed I do, Mars! I thank you for bringing this to my attention!”

“Well, I have been encountering so much difficulty with the other Incarnations that I thought—”

The Green Mother smiled. “I appreciate your consideration, Mars. Certainly I could not have let such a ploy pass. I shall straighten this out for you—but in return you must give me an intimate part of yourself.”

“I must give you—?” Mym sang indignantly. “I came here to—”

“Indulge me, Mars,” she said.

“Oh, take what you want!” he sang angrily. He should never have expected gratitude from another Incarnation!

“In due course.”

She questioned him closely, then lifted her hand to her face. She leaned forward and touched one eye with her right forefinger, and her left with her left forefinger. Two glistening tears fell to the fingers and clung there in globules. She put the globules into separate little sponges. “Take these to your battle zone,” she said. “Put them together there.”

“T-t-two t-t-tears?” he asked, astonished.

“Not ordinary tears, Mars. When these merge, they will form a compound that nullifies what Satan has done in Ireland. Their virus will expire and be beyond recovery. No one will die of this particular plague.”

“What Satan has done?” he sang.

“Obviously Satan has been behind all the mischief you
have encountered,” she said. “He caused the drafting of children for battle, revealed to another party the secret substance to make zombies, sent a vision to yet another to reveal the technology of the time bomb, and gave the secret of the Protestant plague to another. He has been working you over, Mars.”

Mym formed an angry fist, knowing that this was true. Why hadn’t he seen it before? That vision in Cush—obviously Satanic! “D-d-d-d-damn him!” he swore.

“Which means you must deal with him directly,” Gaea said. “Only then will you be free of his interference.”

“I shall challenge him now!” Mym sang.

“He will not meet you on a field of your choice,” she warned. “Be careful, Mars; you can nullify the Incarnation of Evil only by properly understanding him. Bide your time; you will know when your opportunity comes.”

Mym knew she was right. “I shall,” he sang. “Now, will I be able to leave here without going through all the challenges again?”

She laughed. “Of course, Mars! But first—” She touched him with one hand. He felt a peculiar wrenching and knew that something vital was indeed gone from him. Nature had taken her payment.

Then he stepped out of her front doorway, which was an opening in the trunk of the great tree she lived in, and saw the Castle of War just across the open valley. There were no barriers at all.

 
13
 
LIGEIA

If Mym’s nocturnal restlessness had been bad before, it was worse now. He had been frustrated by Rapture’s repeated absences, but had known that she would return. Now he knew she would not. His hope for future satisfaction had been negated.

He walked in the garden. There was Lila.

“Hello, Mym,” she said in familiar fashion. She wore one of her slinky, form-fitting robes that seemed to reveal more of her than would have been seen if she had been nude.

“I chopped you up and sent you back to Hell!” he protested. “What are you doing here?”

“I am trying to serve your needs,” she said. “You are welcome to chop me up again, if it gives you pleasure.”

“I just want to be rid of you!”

“Now don’t be that way, Mym. You know you can’t manage without an obliging woman, and I am most obliging. You can torture me, and I won’t be hurt; you can cut me in pieces, and I can be reassembled. But I really think you would prefer to love me.”