"You know what Herzog tells you is true, but you do not accept." Herzog shook his head slowly and sighed. "You will fail."
"I will not!"
Sam stared Herzog in the eye. The Gator shaman's pupils were contracted despite the low light level, making more of his uncanny yellowish-green irises visible. The shaman's stare was unnerving, as much for its intensity as for its uncanniness, but Sam held his gaze fixed.
Several long minutes passed before the Gator shaman bowed his head. "Herzog will drum."
The shaman shambled back to his instrument. Sam waited until Herzog had settled down before stretching himself out on the cold floor. Sam began the exercises of relaxation, readying himself for the shamanic voyage. Lying on his back, he could smell the must in the cracks of the concrete. At least the floor wasn't wet.
"Accept Dog," Herzog said as he began to beat the drum.
"I'll use the image for all its worth." "Accept Dog," Herzog repeated. The shaman's drumming blended with his words, the music repeating the phrase over and over with increasing insistence.
Sam felt himself slipping down into trance. Closing his eyes, he let himself go. The darkness behind his eyelids shifted like a field of dark stars whizzing past a trideo starship. A brief perception of light intruded on the pure sensation of motion and he recognized the tunnel before all went dark again. The tunnel is the passage to the otherworld, Herzog had said, the way to the land of the totems.
Although he knew he was in the tunnel, Sam really couldn't see anything. There was no indication of which direction he should take. He felt lost and abandoned. Herzog had said that the tunnel would lead him; all he had to do was follow it. How did one follow something that led nowhere?
Dog is your guide, Herzog had said. Well Dog, where are you? I need guidance. Feeling remarkably silly, Sam called out. But nothing answered to Dog's name. He called again. Nothing again. He turned in place, trying to perceive some difference in the darkness. Slowly he realized that he was beginning to see the walls of the tunnel. A distant sound reached his ears, like a faraway trickle of water striking stones with a steady beat. The drumming. Herzog was helping.
A faint glow appeared almost straight down from his position. Sam stepped forward, feeling a certainty that the passageway led toward the distant light source. Though the tunnel led directly downwards, Sam had no trouble negotiating a passage. He simply floated along the gallery. Anxious to get on with it, Sam flew down the tunnel. The sooner it was done, the sooner it would be done. He sped down the passageway, the light growing ever stronger.
"All right, Dog," he called. "Here 1 come."
The light grew brighter as he traveled. The walls became visible, then washed out as the illumination increased. Light filled the passage. In the midst of the harsh brightness stood a massive figure.
Sam rebounded.
The Man of Light blazed before him, glowing bulk filling the tunnel. There was no way around the Man. Sam darted away into a side passage and almost immediately pulled up short to avoid running into the
Man of Light again as the gleaming figure suddenly flared into existence in Sam's path. Sam spun to retrace his path and was confronted again by the Man. The dying of the light behind him and its flaring as he turned had barely been noticeable. He twisted his head to look over his shoulder. It was dark. By the time he had turned his body around and taken his first step in that direction, the Man was there. Sam raised a hand to shield his eyes from the brilliance. The Man of Light laughed at him. In the Matrix, one operates by accepting the imagery and responding appropriately. If one's software was good enough, one's action was translated into a computer reality. Here in this magical realm, Sam was faced with a terrifying obstacle. He wanted to run and hide, but he knew the results of that response. There had to be another way.
When one ran into trouble in the real world, one yelled for help. Would that work here? "Dog!" Sam shouted. "Help me! Where are you?" Sam was relieved, surprised, and a little frightened when he got a response.
"Here, boy." Dog's voice was faint, as if the words were muffled by an intervening door.
"Where?" Sam asked. He could see nothing through the burning radiance of the Man of Light.
"Here," Dog answered.
"I can't see you."
"But I'm still here."
"If you're here, you can help. Come to me. I need i your power.''
["Come yourself. What do you think I am? A cocker spaniel looking for a handout? If you want power, you come and get it. You'll have to take matters into your own hands." "How?"
"That's your problem. I've got more than enough to share, but you haven't been very nice to me lately."
Lord above! Was that how magic worked? Did one have to bargain with one's own psychological constructs? Sam began to think that maybe he was crazy. Holding conversations with yourself was a sure sign that a chip wasn't seated right. Symbolic imagery, he told himself. Fighting the constraints of the imagery would only make it harder to manipulate the energy. Lacking any idea of what to offer, he said, "I'll be better."
"Promises, promises. I've heard it all before. You want it, come and get it."
"Frag it! How do I get to you? The Man blocks the way.''
"That he does. You're a man, too. But then, not all men are men and sometimes you've got to solve problems mono a mono, eh?" Dog was silent for a moment, leaving Sam puzzled and frustrated. When the totem's voice returned, it was fainter. Sam had to strain to make out the next words. "I understood that you felt a certain amount of time pressure. Get a move on. I may have four, but two legs are enough to run on."
"Dog, what are you talking about?"
There was no answer.
"Dog? Dog!"
Sam was alone again, save for the Man of Light.
Holding a hand before his face, Sam tried to see through the glare. The looming shape of the Man was indistinct, his outline blurred by heat haze. He was white as if burning brightly. Sam had no doubt that the Man was the source of the heat he felt.
Well, Sam had dealt with heat and flames before. He shuddered at the memories of Haesslich's toothy head rearing back. Sam had been sure he was going to die that night. He hadn't because Dog's song had aved him. The song had been a protective spell which had saved Sam from the dragon's flaming weath.
Confronted by another blazing threat, Sam began to ing the song. Confident in its power, he stepped for ard. Even if the Man didn't evaporate, Sam felt sure e fire would be no threat.
At first, his confidence seemed justified. Sam aproached the Man with no increase in discomfort. He seated a lot, but that could have been nerves as easily t heat. The Man seemed to radiate an aura of fearful enace.
The Man stepped into Sam's path.
"Stop," he said.
Sam was astonished. "You can speak!"
"In your mind."
If Sam's evaluation of the process of magic was Direct, the whole experience was in his mind. Subctive or objective, time was passing. Sam straightted his carriage, trying to nullify the creeping sense 'peril that clawed its way up his spine. "Let me BS."
'No."
Sam tried to step around the Man. A arm that felt irred in fire smashed into his chest and knocked him ckwards. He landed butt first and then sprawled to un his head painfully against the floor of the pasgeway. Dazed, he stood again. He had to get around i Man of Light.; "You shall not pass," the Man said. f "I must," Sam insisted. Did one of his teeth feel
Jose? "Get out of my way."!"I oppose you because you hunt me and mine. cave us in peace and I shall not trouble you. She is
no longer part of your world. Return to Seattle and brget all you have learned here in England. It will be etter for all."
"Better for you, you mean." "Yes. But for you also. I have been lenient. Trouble me further and I shall show no mercy.'' "Mercy? What mercy? I've seen your crimes." The Man laughed. The sound was loud, almost painful. "You have no idea what you have seen. You are a foolish norm who seeks to meddle in affairs that are not his own. You are manipulated by other forces and you can't even see them. How could you perceive what I am or what I have done? Tell me, little norm. Do you remember your woman in Seattle? What would she say about your little arrangement with Katherine Hart? Your affair is an infidelity by her rules as well as yours. And you can't even remember when it started, can you?"