Nor did the demons escape. As they flapped through the night, great birds bestrode by men in green swooped down from the darkness. And these bore tubes which sprayed fans of galling light, and the demons who came within range gave terrible screams and toppled to earth, where they exploded in black dust.
A few sorcerers had escaped to the crags, to dodge and hide among the shadows. T'sais and Etarr heard a scrabbling and panting below. Frantically clambering up the rocks was she whom Etarr had come seeking— Javanne, her red hair streaming back from her clear young face. Etarr made a leap, caught her, clamped her with strong arms.
"Come," he said to T'sais, and bearing down the struggling figure, he strode off through the shadows.
At length as they passed down upon the moor, the tumult faded in the distance. Etarr set the woman upon her feet, unclamped her mouth. She caught sight for the first time of him who had seized her. The flame died from her face and through the night a slight smile could be seen. And she combed her long red hair with her fingers, arranging the locks over her shoulders, eyeing Etarr the while. T'sais wandered close, and Javanne turned her a slow appraising glance.
She laughed. "So, Etarr, you have been unfaithful to me; you have found a new lover."
"She is no concern of yours," said Etarr.
"Send her away," said Javanne, "and I will love you again. Remember how you first kissed me beneath the poplars, on the terrace of your villa?"
Etarr gave a short sharp laugh. 'There is a single thing I require of you, and that is my face."
And Javanne mocked him. "Your face? What is amiss with the one you wear? You are better suited to it; and in any event, your former face is lost."
"Lost? How so?"
"He who wore it was blasted this night by the Green Legion, may Kraan preserve their living brains in acid!"
Etarr turned his blue eyes off toward the crags.
"So now is your countenance dust, black dust," murmured Javanne. Etarr, in blind rage, stepped forward and struck at the sweetly impudent face. But Javanne took a quick step back.
"Careful, Etarr, lest I mischief you with magic. You may go limping, hopping hence with a body to suit your face. And your beautiful dark-haired child shall be play for demons."
Etarr recovered himself and stood back, eyes smouldering.
"I have magic as well, and even without I would smite you silent with my fist ere you worded the first frame of your spell."
"Ha, that we shall see," cried Javanne, skipping away. "For I have a charm of wonderful brevity." As Etarr lunged at her she spoke a charm. Etarr stopped in mid-stride, his arms fell listless to his side, and he became a creature without volition, all his will drained by the leaching magic.
But Javanne stood in precisely the same posture, and her gray eyes stared dumbly forth. Only T'sais was free—for T'sais wore Pandelume's rune which reflected magic back against him who launched it.
She stood bewildered in the dark night, the two inanimate figures standing like sleep-walkers before her. She ran to Etarr, tugged at his arm. He looked at her with dull eyes.
"Etarr! What is wrong with you?" And Etarr, because his will was paralyzed, forced to answer all questions and obey all orders, replied to her.
"The witch has spoken a spell which leaves me without volition. Therefore I cannot move or speak without command."
"What shall I do. How can I save you?" inquired the distressed girl. And, though Etarr was without volition, he retained his thought and passion. He could give her what information she asked, and nothing more.
"You must order me to a course which will defeat the witch."
"But how will I know this course?"
"You will ask and I will tell you."
"Then would it not be better to order you to act as your brain directs?"
"Yes."
"Then do so; act under all circumstances as Etarr would act."
Thus in the dark of night the spell of Javanne the witch was circumvented and nullified. Etarr was recovered and conducted himself according to his normal promptings. He approached the immobile Javanne.
"Now do you fear me, witch?"
"Yes," said Javanne. "I fear you indeed."
"Is in truth the face you stole from me black dust?"
"Your face is in the black dust of an exploded demon."
The blue eyes looked steadily at her through the slits of the hood.
"How can I recover it?"
"It is mighty magic, a reaching into the past; and now your face is of the past. Magic stronger than mine is required, magic stronger than the wizards of Earth and the demon-worlds possess. I know of two only who are strong enough to make a mold of the past. The one is named Pandelume, who lives in a many-colored land—"
"Embelyon," murmured T'sais.
"—but the spell to journey to this land has been forgotten. Then there is another, who is no wizard, who knows no magic. To get your face, you must seek it of one of these," and Javanne stopped, the question of Etarr answered.
"Who is this latter one?" he asked.
"I know not his name. Far in the past, far beyond thought, so the legend runs, a race of just people lived in a land east of the Maurenron Mountains, past the Land of the Falling Wall, by the shores of a great sea. They built a city of spires and low glass domes, and dwelt in great content. These people had no god, and presently they felt the need of one whom they might worship. So they built a lustrous temple of gold, glass and granite, wide as the Scaum River where it flows through the Valley of Graven Tombs, as long again, and higher than the trees of the north. And this race of honest men assembled in the temple, and all flung a mighty prayer, a worshipful invocation, and, so legend has it, a god molded by the will of this people was brought into being, and he was of their attributes, a divinity of utter justice.
"The city at last crumbled, the temple became shards and splinters, the people vanished. But the god still remains, rooted forever to the place where his people worshipped him. And this god has power beyond magic. To each who faces him, the god wills and justice is done. And let the evil beware, for those who face the god find no whit of mercy. Therefore few dare to bring their faces before this god."
"And to this god we go," said Etarr with grim pleasure. "The three of us, and the three of us shall face justice."
They returned across the moors to Etarr's cabin, and he searched his books for means to transport them to the ancient site. In vain; he had no such magic at his command. He turned to Javanne.
"Do you know of magic to take us to this ancient god?"
"Yes."
"What is this magic?"
"I will call three winged creatures from the Iron Mountains, and they will carry us."
Etarr gazed at Javanne's white face sharply.
"What reward do they demand?"
"They kill those whom they transport."
"Ah, witch," exclaimed Etarr, "even with your will drugged and your answer willy-nilly honest, you contrive to harm us." He stood towering over the beautiful evil of red hair and wet lips. "How may we get to the god unharmed and unmolested?"
"You must put the winged creatures under a charge."
"Summon the things," Etarr ordered, "and place them under the charge; and bind them with all the sorcery you know."
Javanne called the creatures; they settled flapping on great leather wings. She placed them under a pact of safety, and they whined and stamped with disappointment.
And the three mounted, and the creatures took them swiftly through the night air, which already smelled of morning.
East, ever east. Dawn came, and the dim red sun ballooned slowly upward into the dark sky. The black Maurenron Range passed under; and the misty Land of the Falling Wall was left behind. To the south were the deserts of Almery, and an ancient sea-bed filled with jungle; to the north, the wild forests.