The ancient head bent. A transparent hand rose and touched the ringlets of the beard. Then Ghast Rhymi looked at me, and he smiled.
"So you know that, do you?" he asked. "I will tell you something, Ganelon, that no one else has guessed. You are not the first to come from Earth-world to the Dark World. I was the first."
I stared at him with unconcealed amazement.
"And you were born in the Dark World; I was not," he said. "My flesh sprang from the dust of Earth. It has been very long since I crossed, and I can never return now, for my span is long outlived. Only here can I keep the life-spark burning within me, though I do not much care about that either. Yet I am Earth-born, and I knew Vortigern and the kings of Wales. I had my own holdings at Caer-Merdin, and a different sun from this red ember in the Dark World's sky shone upon Caer-Merdin! Blue sky, blue sea of Britain, the gray stones of the Druid altars under the oak forests. That is my home, Ganelon. Was my home. Until my science, that men in those days called magic, brought me here, with a woman's aid. A Dark-World woman named Viviane."
"You are Earth-born?" I said.
"Once – yes. As I grew older here, very, very old, I regretted my exile. I had acquired enough of wisdom. I would have changed it all for one breath of the cool, sweet air that blew in from the Irish Sea when I was a boy. But never could I return. My body would fall to dust in the Earth-world. So I lost myself in dreams – dreams of Earth, Ganelon."
His blue eyes brightened with memories.
His voice deepened.
"In my dreams I brought back the old days. I stood again on the crags of Wales, watching the salmon leaping in the waters of gray Usk. I saw Artorius again, and his father Uther, and I smelled the old smells of Britain in her youth. But they were dreams!
"And dreams are not enough. For the sake of the love I bore the dust from which I sprang, for the sake of a wind that blew from ancient Ireland, I will help you now, Ganelon. I had never thought that life would matter to me any more. But that these abominations should lead a man of Earth to slaughter – no! And man of Earth you are now, though born on this world of sorcery!"
He leaned forward, compelling me with his gaze.
"You are right. Llyr is no god. He is – a monster. No more than that. And he can be slain."
"With the Sword Called Llyr?"
"Listen. Put these legends out of your mind. That is Llyr's power, and the power of the Dark World. All is veiled in mystic symbols of terror. But behind the veil lies simple truth. Vampire, werewolf, upas-tree – they all are biological freaks, mutations run wild! And the First mutation was Llyr. His birth split the one time-world into two, each spinning along its line of probability. He was a key factor in the temporal pattern of entropy.
"Listen again. At birth, Llyr was human. But his mind was not as the minds of others. He had certain natural powers, latent powers, which ordinarily would not have developed in the race for a million years. Because they did develop in him too soon, they were warped and distorted, and put to evil ends. In the future world of logic and science, his mental powers would have fitted. In the dark times of superstition, they did not fit too well. So he developed, with the science at his command and the mental strength he had, into a monster.
"Human once. Less human as he grew older and wiser in his alien knowledge. In Caer Llyr are machines which send out certain radiations necessary to the existence of Llyr. Those radiations permeate the Dark World. They have caused other mutations, such as Matholch and Edeyrn and Medea.
"Kill Llyr and his machines will stop. The curse of abnormal mutations will be lifted. The shadow over this planet will be gone."
"How may I kill Him?" I asked.
"With the Sword Called Llyr. His life is bound up with that Sword, as a machine is dependent on its parts. I am not certain of the reason for this, Ganelon, but Llyr is not human – now. He is part machine and part pure energy and part something unimaginable. But he was born of flesh, and he must maintain his contact with the Dark World, or die. The Sword is his contact."
"Where is the Sword?"
"At Caer Llyr," Ghast Rhymi said. "Go there. By the altar, there is a crystal pane. Don't you remember?"
"I remember."
"Break that pane. Then you will find the Sword Called Llyr."
He sank back. His eyes closed, then opened again.
I knelt before him and he made the Ancient Sign above me.
"Strange," he murmured, half to himself. "Strange that I should send a man to battle again, as I sent so many, long ago."
The white head bent forward. Snowy beard lay upon the snowy robe.
"For the sake of a wind that blew from Ireland," the old man whispered.
Through the open windows a breath of air drifted, gently ruffling the white ringlets of hair and beard…
The winds of the Dark World stirred in the silent room, paused – and were gone!
Now, indeed, I stood alone…
From Ghast Rhymi's chamber I went down the tower steps and into the courtyard.
The battle was nearly over. Scarcely a score of the Castle's defenders were still on their feet. Around them Lorryn's pack ravened and yelled. Back to back, grimly silent, the dead-eyed guardsmen wove their blades in a steel mesh that momentarily held at bay their attackers.
There was no time to be wasted here. I caught sight of Lorryn's scarred face and made for him. He showed me his teeth in a triumphant grin.
"We have them, Bond."
"It took you long enough," I said. "These dogs must be slain quickly!" I caught a sword from a nearby woodsman.
Power flowed up the blade and into the hilt – into me.
I plunged into the thick of the battle. The foresters made way for me. Beside me Lorryn laughed quietly.
Then I came face to face with a guardsman. His blade swung up in thrust and parry, and I twisted aside, so that his steel sang harmlessly through the air. My sword-point leaped like a striking snake for his throat. The shock of metal grating on bone jarred my wrist.
I tore the weapon free and glimpsed Lorryn, still grinning, engaging another of the guardsmen.
"Kill them!" I shouted. "Kill them!"
I did not wait for response. I went forward against the blind-eyed soldiers of Medea, slashing, striking, thrusting, as though these men were the Coven, my enemies! I hated each blankly staring face. Red tides of rage began to surge up, narrowing my vision and clouding my mind with hot mists.
For a few moments, I was drunk with the lust for killing.
Lorryn's hands gripped my shoulders. His voice came.
"Bond! Bond!"
The fogs were swept away. I stared around. Not one of the guardsmen was left alive. Bloody, hacked corpses lay sprawled on the gray flagstone of the courtyard. The woodsmen, panting hard, were wiping their blades clean.
"Did any escape to carry warning to Caer Secaire?" I asked.
Despite his perpetual scarred grin, Lorryn looked troubled.
"I'm not sure. I don't think so, but the place is a rabbit-warren."
"The harm's done then," I said. "We hadn't enough men to throw a cordon around the Castle."
He grimaced. "Warned or not, what's the odds? We can slay the Covenanters as we killed their guards."
"We ride to Caer Llyr," I said, watching him.
I saw the shadow of fear in the cold gray eyes. Lorryn rubbed his grizzled beard and scowled.
"I don't understand. Why?"
"To kill Llyr."
Amazement battled with ancient superstitious terror in his face. His gaze searched mine and apparently read the answer he wanted.
"To kill – that!"
I nodded. "I've seen Ghast Rhymi. He told me the way."