The boy sank to his knees, wrapping his thin arms over his head. " 'Tis a-terrible strong force," the boy groaned.
Remo felt dizzy. "I feel it, too. Music." The air was filled with dissonant sounds that were somehow strangely familiar. "There's music coming from somewhere close."
Jilda and Emrys looked at one another. There was no music that they could hear. "Come," she said, picking up the boy in her arms. "You're both tired."
"Can't you hear it?" Remo slapped his hands over his ears. "The loudest music I ever heard. Oh ..."
He fell. Emrys rushed over to him. "What is it?"
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"Can't move." He tried to sit up. Not a muscle worked. Even his fingers were immobile. And the discordant music kept roaring in his ears.
Emrys slid his burly arms beneath Remo and lifted him. "We're near the cave," he said, making his way inland at a trot.
Inside the cave, the music vanished. Griffith got to his feet as H'si T'ang laid hands on Remo. Within a few minutes, Remo sat up.
"The Chinee can make magic," the boy whispered to his father.
"Indeed," Chiun said. "But we are not Chinese. I am Chiun, Master of Sinanju, and this is H'si T'ang, past Master." He gave the boy a small bow.
Griffith returned it as best he could. "I am Griffith, sir. I meant no disrespect."
"Then call us by our proper names."
"Yes, sir," Griffith said meekly.
Remo flexed his hands. "I can't understand it," he said. "I was fine one minute, and then--"
"There are things which must be explained," Chiun said. "But first, why are you here-all of you?" He looked sternly at the four visitors.
"Well, it's uh-" Remo fumbled.
"We have decided not to carry out the Master's Trial," Jilda said.
Chiun's eyebrows rose.
Remo stood up. "That's right. I'm sorry, Little Father, but it's not for me. I beat Ancion and Kiree by luck. I wasn't a better fighter than they were, and I felt rotten afterward. They shouldn't have had to die. I think there's room for all of us on this planet. Jilda and Emrys feel the same way."
Chiun began to sputter, but H'si T'ang intervened. "As do 1, my son. I congratulate you all on your intelligence."
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"But the Trial," Chiun said, incredulous at the effrontery of the three contestants. "It is one of the oldest traditions in Sinanju."
"The preservation of our people is the oldest tradition," H'si T'ang said, "and the most worthwhile. Do you not see, Chiun? Trial. You needed Remo, and he has come."
"Needed me? What for?"
Chiun settled himself in a sitting position beside Remo. "Do you remember the Dutchman?"
"Sure. He was killed off the coast of St. Martin's."
"No. He lives. He is here." He described his confrontation with the thin man who had arrived unconscious at the cave, and of the Dutchman's exit the night before. "I could not kill him," Chiun said, his eyes lowered. "He is my punishment for the death of Nuihc. That task must rest with you."
"Can he really make things explode just by looking at them?" Griffith asked. Emrys prodded the boy with his elbow.
"Unfortunately, yes," H'si T'ang said. "A very dangerous man."
Remo stood slowly, thinking. "It was him, then. The music, everything. He knows I'm here."
"I'm afraid so," Chiun said.
Remo sighed. "I'd better not waste any time."
Jilda rose. "No," Remo said, cutting her off before she could speak.
"But 1 didn't hear any music. He won't be after me."
"He will be if you show up."
"Oh- "
"Don't you see? You'd hear the music if he wanted you to hear it. You'd do anything he told you. You just can't fight him, Jilda."
"Can you?"
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He looked outside, at the rocky hills beyond the cave. "I don't know," he said, and left.
"I must go with him," Jilda said, rushing after Remo. Chiun stopped her. "The Dutchman is not your adversary. You would surely die in combat with him."
"I'd have as much of a chance as Remo has!"
"No, my child. You are a fine warrior. 1 have heard of your bravery and skill. But only Remo stands a chance against this man."
"Why Remo?" Emrys asked defensively.
"Because Remo is not who he believes himself to be."
"Who is he, then?" Emrys barely concealed his disdain.
"He is a being beyond the scope of our understanding," Chiun said. "But in order to fulfill his destiny, he must first come to realize this. I had hoped that the Master's Trial would help him to arrive at this knowledge, but it has not. Perhaps he will learn now."
"A lot of mumbo-jumbo, if you ask me," Emrys muttered. "If this Dutchman fella's as much of a maniac as you say, Remo can use my help." He lumbered out of the cave.
. "Emrys, don't go!" Jilda shouted. Emrys didn't turn back. She rushed to collect her things. "I'll go, too. If there are three of us . . ." Her gaze rested on Griffith.
The boy was sitting cross-legged, staring into space. "Don't leave, Da," he said quietly. "The power 1 feel is death, and the music is the song of the beast."
Jilda bent low over him. "Griffith? What are you saying?"
Griffith continued to stare, unblinking.
"The boy understands," said H'si T'ang.
Chapter Twenty-Three
"A being beyond scope," Emrys grumbled. "Doesn't know who he is. My arse."
Remo wasn't any weirder a being than anyone else, except maybe his teachers. Masters of Sinanju or not, those Chinee were a couple of lunatics. No wonder poor Remo couldn't even eat a rabbit. Brought up by crazy men, that's what he was. And with all their magic, not a one between them to help the poor sod out in a fight.
Well, Remo had done his share on the long journey from Wales, and even if he didn't come from the valley, he was as good a friend as Emrys had. He'd find that when he needed help, Emrys would be there to lend a hand.
There he was, just ahead, a form turning the crest of the hill. "Ho, Remo," Emrys called, but his voice was drowned in a wave of swelling music.
Music?
You'd hear the music if he wanted you to hear it, Remo had said.
The music grew louder. Emrys unsheathed his knife and whirled around. Nothing.
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But the music . . . Suddenly his feet shifted beneath him. He lunged, but he remained rooted where he stood. His feet were covered to the ankles in soft, bubbling mud the consistency of gruel.
"Quicksand," he whispered, unbelieving. As far as he could see, the dry, grassy soil had turned into a roiling cauldron of yellow muck. He struggled, dropping his knife. It disappeared into the liquid earth.
The figure appeared again on the hill. "Remo!" Emrys called. "By Mryddin, come get me out of this mess!"
The quicksand disappeared. In the blink of an eye, Emrys was standing once again on firm ground. His knife lay beside him in a tuft of grass.
"All the gods," he said. The figure was still standing on the hill, which, inexplicably, seemed to turn blue.
He shook his head. It was a damn good thing he hadn't fought Remo in the Master's Trial, he thought. His vision wasn't just weak, it was playing tricks on him as well.
He walked toward it. The blue of the mound changed to green, and then to violet. The hill itself appeared to change shape, into an impossibly correct geometric pyramid. The low rises around it spiked upward into perfect triangles, glowing in a spectrum of unearthly colors like some modernist stage set.
"This can't be happening," Emrys said. It must have been the sea voyage. He'd heard about sailors who'd claimed to see strange things from being too long off land. And the food had been scant and bad, and . . .
"Your eyes are failing," a voice said, seemingly from nowhere. He turned around, jabbing the air instinctively with his knife.
"Can't you see me?" The voice was smooth, mocking.