The brutes’ trail led straight into the woods, and I began to think about what might be waiting for us in the shadows of that forest.
“That’s a fine spot for an ambush,” I said.
Adena nodded agreement. “But as you say, we have weapons that outdistance theirs. If they’re foolish enough to attack, they’ll be doing us a favor.”
“They’ll throw more animals at us. There must be wolves and other predators living in that forest.”
Adena asked, “What do you think we should do?”
“Circle the forest. If they’re in there waiting for us, we can make them come out in the open.”
“And if they’re not, we’ll lose half a day’s march on them. Perhaps more.”
“Does that matter?”
“We mustn’t let them get away.”
“If we go straight into those woods, we’ll be ambushed and probably killed.”
“That doesn’t matter…”
“Perhaps it doesn’t matter to you,” I said, “or even to me. But what about them?” I cocked my head to indicate the other soldiers. “They may not have as many lives as you or I. Death for them is very real, and very permanent.”
Her eyes looked troubled. “I had forgotten that.”
“If we’ve got to kill the enemy down to the last man, at least let’s try to preserve the lives of our own people.”
“But you don’t understand, Orion.”
“I don’t care,” I said, keeping my voice low but putting as much strength into it as I could muster. “You’ve taken these men and women out of their own time, torn them away from their homes and families and flung them into this distant age of cold and ice to do Ormazd’s bidding…”
“To do what must be done,” she insisted. “To save the human race from extinction.”
“Whatever the reason, they deserve a chance to get through this alive. They shouldn’t be thrown away like a handful of pawns.”
“But that’s exactly what they are,” Adena said. “Don’t you see? They are pawns. They were created to be pawns.”
“They’re human beings, with lives of their own that are precious to them, families, friends…”
“No, Orion, you are wrong. You don’t understand.” Adena’s face was sad, her eyes searching mine.
“Then tell me, explain it to me.”
For long moments she said nothing, as we trudged through the snow, each step bringing us closer to the looming, brooding dark forest.
“I’m afraid,” she said at last. “If I tell you the entire truth, you will hate me.”
“Hate you?” I felt shocked. “How can I hate you? I’ve gone through death three times to find you, to be with you.”
She lowered her eyes. “Orion, we are all pieces in a game. We all play our assigned roles.”
“And the gameplayer is Ormazd,” I said.
“No. It’s not that simple. Ormazd plays his role, just as I do. And you.” She hesitated, then added, almost in a whisper, “And these… pawns, who march with us.”
“You’re not a pawn,” I said.
“Neither are you,” she said, with a sad, resigned smile. “You are a knight. I am a bishop, perhaps.”
“A queen.”
“Not that powerful.”
“My queen,” I insisted. Then I realized, “And Ormazd is the king. If he is killed…”
“We all die. Permanently. The game ends.”
“So that’s what it’s all about.”
“Yes.”
“And these men and women with us?”
“As I said, they are pawns. They were made for this task, and no other.” She looked weary, miserable. “You spoke of their being wrenched out of their own time, separated from their friends and families. Orion, they have no families! No friends. They know of no other time except this. They were created by Ormazd precisely for this task of exterminating Ahriman’s people. For this task, and none other.”
It was as if I had known this all along. The truth did not surprise me. Instead, I felt a terrible hollowness within me, an emptiness as deep as the pit of hell.
I glanced back over my shoulder at them, marching along through the frigid Ice Age afternoon without a complaint, following Adena’s orders, each step bringing them closer to death — either their own or their enemy’s. And they did not seem to care which.
Lissa smiled at me. She was toting a heavy sack of grenades and other explosive devices on her back. I thought back to her lighthearted eagerness just before the battle in the cave. To the killing frenzy of Dal’s clan that night they were attacked. To the grim efficiency of the Mongols as they wiped out the armies of Bela the Hungarian. Even to the crowd of demonstrators in front of the fusion laboratory in Michigan, so quick to violence.
“Yes,” Adena said, as if she could read my thoughts. “Violence has been programmed into them.”
“They are machines, then? Robots?”
With a single small shake of her head she answered, “They are flesh and blood, just as you yourself are. But they were created by Ormazd and their minds were programmed for this task of killing.”
“Just as I was,” I realized.
“Now you know the truth,” she whispered, her gray eyes filled with sorrow.
“I was created by Ormazd to kill Ahriman, and for no other reason.”
“Yes.”
“That’s why I couldn’t remember my past, back in the twentieth century. I had none. I am a puppet, and, Ormazd pulls the strings.”
The hollowness I felt inside me grew to engulf the universe. I was a machine! We were all machines, made of organic molecules and DNA, of bone and nerve, but machines nonetheless, programmed to do Ormazd’s bidding: puppets, marionettes, remotely controlled killers.
“Orion.” Vaguely I heard Adena’s voice calling me, summoning me back to this instant in time, this place on the vast chess board that Ormazd controlled.
“Orion,” she said again. “You were made to serve Ormazd, but you have grown beyond the purpose for which he created you.”
“Have I?” My voice sounded utterly weary, defeated, even to my own ears. “Then why am I here, if it isn’t to twitch whenever Ormazd pulls my strings?”
Adena’s beautiful face eased into a smile. “Why, I thought you were here to find me. That’s what you told me.”
“Now you’re teasing me.”
“Not at all.” She grew serious again. “You were created for a single purpose, true enough. But even from the first you acted on your own. You are a human being, Orion. As fully human as Socrates or Einstein or Ogotai Khan.”
“How can I be?”
“You are,” she said. “How could I love you, if you were not?”
I stared at her for long moments as we trudged steadily through the snow toward the gloomy forest. Its huge conifers reared before us like the battlements of a fortress.
“You do love me,” I said.
“Enough to make myself human,” Adena answered. “Enough to share in your life, your fate, your death.”
“I love you. I’ve loved you through a hundred thousand years, through death and resurrection.”
She nodded happily, her eyes suddenly misty.
“But we must face death again, mustn’t we?” I said.
“Yes, but we’ll face it together.”
“And these others?”
She grew somber again. “Orion, they are pawns. They have no past. They know nothing but how to fight.”
“Even pawns have a right to survive,” I said.
“Our task is to exterminate Ahriman and his kind. There is no other goal for us, no other path. If we fail in that, we die forever, Orion. Oblivion for us all.”
I knew she was telling the truth; yet I could not accept it.
Adena halted abruptly and grasped me by the shoulders. The others stopped a respectful few paces behind us.
“Orion, if you love me, you must be willing to sacrifice these pawns,” she whispered fiercely.
I gazed into her gray eyes for what seemed like an eternity. With an effort I turned my face away, toward the looming dark forest that awaited us, and then back to the men and women who followed us. They stood at rest, shouldering their weapons, waiting for the next command.