Perhaps madness did possess me now. I think I shrieked, that I called upon gods whose names had no power here, that I cried aloud for any help which might be given me. I do not know this for truth, but I think it is so.
And help came then, stumbling, weaving, but still on his feet, sword ready. Even as I struck with that stone which was my only weapon, so did Herrel come, shadow still, but alive, able to answer my plea.
Of that fighting in the rocky, stream cut valley I remember but little. I do not want to remember parts of it. But the end—that I shall always hold in memory—he who stood between two rocks, pushing me into safety behind him. His sword was a live thing, and from that blade those things flinched and cringed. Though they strove, they could not pull him down. Until at last the survivors fled and left us.
“Who are you?” Herrel held to the rock as if he dared not trust his own strength to stand erect. “Who are you?”
He held up his hand, from his wrist dangled his sword by a cord. His fingers moved, slowly, painfully as if this was some effort almost past his making, and in the air he drew a symbol.
Fire, blue, so bright that my eyes were dazzled. But I called out trying to put the truth that was into my voice:
“I am Gillan. Truly, Herrel, I am Gillan!”
18
The Last Gate of All
He did not come to me, rather he sank to his knees, one arm thrown across a rock to support him. But his green eyes were on me, though his face was still more shadow than true substance. “I slew—”
“You united!” I threw myself down beside him. “That other Gillan, she had to die that we might be whole again—whole! By your sword I am!”
Herrel bowed his head upon his out-flung arm and I could no longer see those eyes which were the most living part of him. I put forth my hand and touched that which was not firm flesh—rather a yielding, changing stuff.
“Herrel!” I saw him as a shadow, but I had expected to touch a man. And this struck new fear into me. Now he did raise his head again, look at me. “I am—far spread—Go—back—Hyron—” The words came with long pauses between them. “No! Herrel—!”
But his head had fallen forward again and he did not answer my call. In me stirred again that anger, and with it my will. I got to my feet and this time I did not plead in my summoning, I demanded: “Hyron!”
The rolling echoes of that name boomed about the walls of that unknown valley, appeared to join with the vibrations set off by the mountain storm. But could it reach from one world to another?
“Hyron!” For the second time I voiced that demand. A shimmering—a change in the air—behind it shadows moved—Come!—Very faint.
“Herrel!” I stooped, strove to draw up that collapsed shadow. But it was as if I scooped running sand in my two hands, there was nothing substantial in him for my fingers to grip upon. “Herrel!”
I glanced up. That troubling in the air, it was already subsiding—perhaps we had only seconds.
“Herrel!” Once more I tried to arouse him—to no purpose.
And when I looked again—that shimmering which marked the gate between the worlds was gone. I covered my face with my hands, dull despair warring with my will, Hyron had warned me that they could not hold the gate—or was it rather would not—for long. Now they had let it close—we were trapped in this nightmare other existence.
Once more I knelt beside Herrel. Was he dead or dying as this world knew those terms, or sore hurt where I could give him no real tending? Why did he wear this shadow form when my body was real and solid? Or did it merely seem so to me, and he saw me as a shadow? If so—then to himself he was real also—A fleeting scrap of memory touched me—that bed on which we twain had lain when we were sent on this perilous venture—had our bodies continued to lie there while we had put on other forms in this alien country?
Herrel?—I could not touch him, bandage his hurts, give him any small comfort.
Or could I?
I had found that other Gillan, sent out that which had entered into her. But that had been because she was a part of me. I could not enter so into Herrel. Maybe not myself, my mind worked on, but could a portion of my will, a desire for life, be so shared with another? It was so small a hope, but now my only one.
I leaned my head on the arms I had folded across my knees. In my mind I fastened upon Herrel—as I had seen him—not on our first meeting, or on other occasion, but at what I knew was a moment when some power had touched us both, when he had stood at the moonlit, silvered pillar and called upon forces known to him in my behalf. And that Herrel I held in my mind—intent on seeing him and not the shadow man beside me.
This was like feeling one’s way along a dark corridor where a danger one could not see stalked, and there were many sideways in which one could be lost. I tried to make of my will a visible thing, of substance—to reach, touch, be one with the Herrel I held in mind, blotting out all else.
He stood there, his bared shoulders silvered as the pillar was silvered. I could smell the sweet scent of the flowers—I could hear his voice chanting in the tongue I did not know, uttering words that I did—he called upon Neave—
Neave! I made of that name an anchor point for my will. Neave—Herrel—and I concentrated the force of my desire on the man who had stood in the moonlight.
Gillan?—
Perhaps that had been several times repeated before it reached me, locked in concentration as I was.
Gillan?—
I turned the head still pillowed on my arms, opened my eyes, the shadow beside me had also raised his head, the green eyes were open, watching me.
Herrel! You are alive?—
After a fashion, but what do you here? The gate—He sat up straight.—They could not hold the gate so long.—
So Hyron said—I answered without thinking.
Again those sparks of eyes swung to mine.—Hyron! He told you, but then, why have you not gone?—
I did not answer. A shadow hand balled into a shadow fist, struck down on the surface of a rock.
Why did you not go. Leave you me no pride at all, Gillan?—
I was startled, and then saw that his way might not be my way after all. That I had delivered hurt where I meant healing. And I made the only answer I had left me:
Matters being in all ways reversed, would you have done so?—
A shadow face shows no expression for reading, and I could see no feeling in his eyes. There was a period of silence between us until I dared to break it:
This gate being closed, where is one we may open?—Not that I expected he could name me any such, but that I might turn his thoughts from within to an without himself.
I know of none. Hyron misled you if he suggested that such might be.—
Hyron gave me nothing but warnings. But, this is the third time I have walked this land. The other two times I believed that I dreamed. And from dreams there is waking.—
Dreams?—Again he moved and this time with more vigour. His hand went to his middle as if exploring some hurt with caution.—Gillan—I—my wound, I no longer bleed! I can move—He pulled to his feet, stood away from the rock which had been his support.—I am whole again! What sorcery have you worked, my lady witch?—
I do not know, truly, I do not. This only—And I told him of my try with will and power.
Neave! You called upon Neave, and now you speak of dreams. Dreams—
He reached down his hand as if to draw me up beside him. I felt a wisp of mist wreath about me, but with no force. Herrel recoiled.
“What is this?” he whispered aloud.