“What’s going on?” I tried saying. But there was no reply.
I crossed and knelt beside the short big-shouldered guy. With my fingertips, I felt after a carotid pulse but couldn’t locate one. At that moment, however, I felt a tickling sensation about my wrist, and Frakir — phasing into and out of visibility — made her way back into touch with with me.
You took that guy out? I asked.
There came a soft pulsation then. Suicides don’t strangle themselves, she replied.
Why didn’t you alert me?
You needed your rest, and it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle. Our empathy is too strong, though. Sorry I woke you.
I stretched.
How long was I asleep?
Several hours, I’d judge.
I feel kind of sorry about this, I said. That scrap heap isn’t worth somebody’s life.
It is now, Frakir answered.
True. Now that someone’s died for the stuff have you gotten the word as to what we do next?
Things are a little clearer, but not enough to act on. We must remain until morning for me to be certain.
Does the information you have include anything on whether there’s food or drink available in the neighborhood?
Yes. There’s supposed to be a jug of water behind the altar. Also a loaf of bread. But that’s for morning. You’re supposed to be fasting throughout the night.
That’f only if I take this whole business seriously, I said, turning toward the altar.
I took two steps, and the world started to come apart. The floor of the chapel trembled, and I heard my first sounds since my arrival; a deep growling, grating noise came from somewhere far beneath me. A horde of colors flashed through the air of this colorless place, half blinding me with their intensity Then the colors fled, and the room divided itself. The whiteness grew intense in the vicinity of the archway by which I had entered. I had to raise my hand to shield my eyes against it. Across from this, a profound darkness occurred, masking the three doorways in that wall.
What… is it? I asked.
Something terrible, Frakir replied, beyond my ability to access.
I clasped the hilt of the blade I wore and reviewed the spells I still had hanging. Before I could do any more than that, an awful sense of presence pervaded the place. So potent did it seem that I did not feel that drawing my blade or reciting a spell was the most politic action I might take.
Ordinarily I’d have summoned the Sign of the Logrus by then, but that way was barred to me also. I tried clearing my throat, but no sound came forth. Then there came a movement at the heart of the light, a coalescing…
The shape of a Unicorn, like Blake’s Tyger, burning bright, took form, so painful to behold that I had to look away.
I shifted my gaze to the deep, cool blackness, but there was no rest for my eyes in that place either. Something stirred within the darkness, and there came another sound — a grating, as of metal being scraped on stone. This was followed by a powerful hissing. The ground trembled again. Curved lines flowed forward. Even before the brightness of the Unicorn etched its lineaments within that mighty gloom, I realized it was the head of a one-eyed serpent which had come partway into the chapel. I shifted my gaze to a point between them, catching each within my peripheral vision. Far better than any attempt to behold either directly I felt their gazes upon me, the Unicorn of Order and the Serpent of Chaos. It was not a pleasant feeling, and I retreated until the altar was at my back.
Both came slightly farther into the chapel. The Unicorn’s head was lowered, horn pointed directly at me. The Serpent’s tongue darted in my direction.
“Uh, if either of you want this armor and stuff,” I ventured, “I certainly have no object —”
The Serpent hissed and the Unicorn raised a hoof and let it fall, cracking the floor of the chapel, the fracture line racing toward me like a streak of black lightning and halting just at my feet.
“On the other hand,” I observed, “no insult is intended by the offer, Your Eminences —”
Wrong thing to say — again, Frakir interjected, weakly.
Tell me what’s right, I said, trying for a mental sotto voce.
I don’t — Oh!
The Unicorn reared; the Serpent drew itself upward. I dropped to my knees and looked away, their gazes having somehow become physically painful. I was trembling, and all of my muscles had begun to ache.
It is suggested, Frakir recited, that you play the game the way it is set up.
What metal entered my backbone I know not. But I raised my head and turned it, looking first to the Serpent, then to the Unicorn. Though my eyes watered and ached as if I were trying to stare down the sun, I managed the gesture.
“You can make me play,” I said, “but you cannot make me choose. My will is my own. I will guard this armor all night, as is required of me. In the morning I will go on without it because I do not choose to wear it.”
Without it you may die, Frakir stated, as if translating.
I shrugged.
“If it is my choice to make, I choose not to place one of you before the other.”
A rush of wind blew hot and cold past me, seemed a cosmic sigh.
You will choose, Frakir relayed, whether you become aware of it or not. Everyone does. You are simply being asked to formalize your choice.
“What’s so special about my case?” I asked.
Again that wind.
Yours is a dual heritage, combined with great power.
“I never wanted either of you for an enemy,” I stated.
Not good enough, came the reply.
“Then destroy me now.”
The game is already in progress.
“Then let’s get on with it,” I answered.
We are not pleased with your attitude.
“Vice versa,” I answered.
The thunderclap that followed left me unconscious.
The reason I felt I could afford total honesty was a strong hunch that players for this game might be hard to come by.
I woke sprawled across the pile of greaves, cuirasses, gauntlets, helms, and other good things of a similar nature, all of them possessed of corners or protuberances, most of which were jabbing into me. I became aware of this only by degrees, for I had gone numb in lots of important places.
Hi, Merlin.
Frakir, I responded. Have I been out for long?
I don’t know. I just came around myself.
I didn’t know a piece of rope could be knocked out.
Neither did I. It never happened to me before.
Let me amend my question then: Any idea how long we’ve been out?
Fairly long, I feel. Get me a glimpse out the doorway, and I may be able to give you a better idea.
I pushed myself slowly to my feet, could not remain standing, dropped. I crawled to the entranceway, noting in passing that nothing on the heap seemed to be missing. The floor was indeed cracked. There really was a dead dwarf to the rear of the chamber.
I looked outside, beheld a bright sky, black points disposed within it.
Well? I asked after a time.
If I figure right, it should be morning soon. Always brightest before the dawn, eh?
Something like that.
My legs burned as their circulation was restored. I pushed myself upright, stood leaning against the wall.
Any new instructions?
Not yet. I’ve a feeling they’re due with the dawn.
I staggered to the nearest bench, collapsed upon it.
If anything comes in now, all I’ve got to hit it with is an odd assortment of spells. Sleeping on armor leaves a few kinks. Almost as bad as sleeping in it.
Throw me at the enemy and the least I can do is buy you time.
Thanks.