Now the vision that hung before him seemed a continuation of my own, stretched and twisting. I saw and felt it as he joined his hands with it and extended a pair of its jagged limbs outward across the distance to touch upon a boulder that lay downhill of us.
“Enter the Logrus now yourself,” he said, “remaining passive. Stay with me through what I am about to do. Do not, at any time, attempt to interfere.”
“I understand,” I said.
I moved my hands into my vision, shifting them about, feeling after congruity, until they became a part of it.
“Good,” he said, when I had settled them into place. “Now all you need do is observe, on all levels.”
Something pulsed along the limbs he controlled, passing down to the boulder. I was not prepared for what came after.
The image of the Logrus turned black before me, becoming a seething blot of inky turmoil. An awful feeling of disruptive power surged through me, an enormous destructive force that threatened to overwhelm me, to carry me into the blissful nothingness of ultimate disorder. A part of me seemed to desire this, while another part was screaming wordlessly for it to cease. But Suhuy maintained control of the phenomenon, and I could see how he was doing it, just as I had seen how he had brought it into being in the first place.
The boulder became one with the turmoil, joined it and was gone. There was no explosion, no implosion, only the sensation of great cold winds and cacophonous sounds. Then my uncle moved his hands slowly apart, and the lines of seething blackness followed them, flowing out in both directions from that area of chaos which had been the boulder, producing a long dark trench wherein I beheld the paradox of both nothingness and activity.
Then he stood still, arresting it at that point. Moments later, he spoke. “I could simply release it,” he stated, “letting it run wild. Or I could give it a direction and then release it.”
As he did not continue,I asked, “What would happen then? Would it simply continue until it had devastated the entire shadow?”
“No,” he replied. “There are limiting factors. The resistance of Order to Chaos would build as it extended itself. There would come a point of containment.”
“And if you remained as you are, and kept summoning more?”
“One would do a great deal of damage.”
“And if we combined our efforts?”
“More extensive damage. But that is not the lesson I had in mind. I will remain passive now while you control it.”
So I took over the Sign of the Logrus and ran the line of disruption back upon itself in a great circle, like a dark moat surrounding us.
“Banish it now,” he said, and I did.
Still, the winds and the sounds continued to rage, and I could not see beyond the dark wall which seemed to be advancing slowly upon us from all sides.
“Obviously, the limiting factor has yet to be achieved,” I observed.
He chuckled. “You're right. Even though you stopped, you exceeded a certain critical limit, so that it is now running wild.”
“Oh,” I said. “How long till those natural limitations you mentioned dampen it?”
“Sometime after it has completely annihilated the area on which we stand,” he said.
“It is receding in all directions as well as heading this way?” “Yes.”
“Interesting. What is the critical mass?”
“I'll have to show you. But we'd better find a new place first. This one is going away. Take my hand.”
I did, and he conducted me to another shadow. This time I summoned the Chaos and conducted the operations while he observed. This time I did not let it run wild.
When I had finished and I stood, shaken, staring into a small crater I had caused, he placed his hand on my shoulder and told me, “As you knew in theory, that is the ultimate power behind your spells. Chaos itself. To work with it directly is dangerous. But, as you have seen, it can be done. Now you know it, your training is complete.”
It was more than impressive. It was awesome. And for most situations I could visualize it was rather like using nukes for skeet shooting. Offhand, I couldn't think of any circumstances under which I would care to employ the technique, until Victor Melman really pissed me off.
Power, in its many shapes, varieties, sizes and styles, continues to fascinate me. It has been so much a part of my life for so long that I feel very familiar with it, though I doubt that I will ever understand it fully.
10
“It's about time,” I said, to whatever lurked in the shad
ows. The sound that followed was not human. It was a low
snarl. I wondered what manner of beast I confronted. I was certain an attack was imminent, but it did not come. Instead the growl died down, and whatever it was spoke again.
“Feel your fear,” came the whisper.
“Feel your own,” I said, “while you still can.”
The sounds of its breathing came heavy. The flames danced at my back. Smoke had drawn as far away across the campsite as his lengthy tether permitted.
“I could have killed you while you slept,” it said slowly. “Foolish of you not to,” I said. “It will cost you.”
“I want to look at you, Merlin,” it stated. “I want to see you puzzled. I want to see your fear. I want to see your anguish before I see your blood.” “Then I take it this is a personal rather than a business matter?”
There came a strange noise which it took me several moments to inter
pret as an inhuman throat trying to manage a chuckle.
Then, “Let us say that, magician,” it responded. “Summon your Sign and your concentration will waver. I will know it and will rend you before you can employ it.”
“Kind of you to warn me.”
“I just wanted to foreclose that option in your thinking. The thing wound about your left wrist will not help you in time either.”
“You have good vision.”
“In these matters, yes.”
“You wish perhaps to discuss the philosophy of revenge with me now?”
“I am waiting for you to break and do something foolish, to increase my pleasure. I have limited your actions to the physical, so you are doomed.”
“Keep waiting, then,” I said.
There was a sound of movement within the brush as something drew nearer. I still could not see it, though. I took a step to my left then, to allow firelight to reach that darkened area. At that, something shone, low. The light was reflected, yellow, from a single glaring eye.
I lowered the point of my weapon, directing it toward the eye. What the hell. Every creature I know of tries to protect its eyes.
“Banzai!” I cried, as I lunged. The conversation seemed to have stagnated, and I was anxious to get on to other matters.
It rose instantly and with great power and speed rushed toward me, avoiding my thrust. It was a large, black, lop-eared wolf, and it slipped past a frantic slash I managed and went straight for my throat.
My left forearm came up automatically and I thrust it forward into the open jaws. At the same time, I brought the hilt of my blade across and slammed it against the side of its head. At this, the clamping force of the bite loosened even as I was home over backward, but the grip remained, penetrating shirt and flesh. And I was turning and pulling before I hit the ground, wanting to land on top, knowing I wouldn't.
I landed on my left side, attempting to continue the roll, and added another belt of the pommel to the side of the beast's skull. It was then that fortune favored me, for a change, when I realized that we lay near the lip of my firs pit and were still turning in that direction. I dropped my weapon and sought its throat with my right hand. It was heavily muscled, and there was no chance of crushing the windpipe in time. But that was not what I was after.
My hand went up high and back beneath the lower jaw, where I commenced squeezing with all my strength. I scrabbled with my feet until I found purchase and then pushed with my legs as well as my arms. Our movement continued the short distance necessary to push its snarling head back into the fire.