“To me you are shadow.” I told him hastily.
He held his hand up before his eyes as if to reassure himself. “But this is solid! Flesh—bone—”
“To me you are a shadow,” I repeated.
“Dreams!” Once more he struck the rock surface with his fist. “If we now share a dream world—”
“Then how do we wake?”
“Yes, the waking—”
His tenuous form swung around, he stared about him as if to locate in the valley some means for shaking us out of nightmare slumber.
“What do you remember of this world, tell me all of it!”
Why he wished me to retrace in memory I did not know, but I obeyed his order, spoke of the forest, the coming of the bird—
“Bird?” Herrel halted me at that point, demanded a description of the bird. And then said:
“So in that much they kept their oath. That was a guide sent by the Pack. Where did this bird lead you?”
I told him of the passage through the bog, the coming to the place of light where I had found him and the company of Gillans.
“Yes, that was where I awoke, in that place of light, seeing them pass back and forth through it, and knowing that only one was the right one, and only you could find her. But none of this gives us any clue to the gate or our awakening—”
“Do we have a key left us?” The muttering of the storm in those mountains grew louder. There was a kind of menace building up about us which broke through my concentration, as if the alien world was gathering its forces to deal with what we represented, an irritation foreign to it.
“I do not know. But while we can move—and think—then perhaps we still have a chance. I wonder—” I saw his head turn again as he surveyed that narrow valley. “That place of light is undoubtedly a place of power. And so might well be where we could find answers—”
“The times I awoke here were in the woods—” I suggested. Though to cross the bog land without a guide was a journey I did not relish.
“Then you dreamed under their command, awoke by it,” Herrel’s husky whisper continued. “If we are to go forth from there now it will be by our wills, united. And I believe that power, no matter from what source, can be drawn upon in times of need—”
“But what if the power is evil, a danger to our kind?”
“I do not think that the place of light is either good or evil. We entered therein, the creatures of this world hunting us entered it. Took no part in our battle, either for one side or the other. We were apart from it, left to our own concerns. Tell me, how did you drive the hound masters forth—that I did not understand—”
“By my anger—I think,” I made answer, but I was considering what he had said. That force of anger, so strong, carrying all before it—never before in my life had I been so possessed. Had that emotion been fired, fuel fed, by some power within the enclosure? Could Herrel be right in his guess that what abode there could be tapped to aid us?
I had said there was no change from day to night in this haunted world. But around us now it grew darker. Either the storm was reaching out from the mountains, or else there was a night coming I had not seen before. We made our way dimly back up the slope to the higher land where stood the enclosure.
Within the light still swirled and around the gate lay small white heaps. Herrel stirred one with the point of his dusky sword, cleaned bones collapsed and rolled, remains of the hounds. But of that which had feasted on the losers, or of its nature, we had no clue.
We had come here, but what must we do now? I turned to Herrel with that question, and it seemed to me that his shadow self was even thinner. “What do we?”
“It becomes a matter of walking an unknown road, trailing across never charted mountains, my lady witch. In my mind it is that we two still lie in the Grey Towers,. that we dream there—so stand within these walls. Unless we can wake, we are lost for ever. For the deeper the dream, the less able will our bodies be to escape it. As for how to wake—well, we must try different ways—”
“What ways?” His confidence seemed overly bright to me who had no trace of plan moving within my mind. “What brought you to that other Gillan, then led you to me?” He counter-questioned. “What led you to summon me from what was death in this world?”
“I thought, I centred my will—on Gillan—on you—”
Herrel looked into the light. “If we do have bodies left in our own world and time, then they anchor us in part there. Perhaps if we strive to be reunited with those bodies, we shall find them. I see no other path for us.”
“But—I have no clear picture to fasten upon—” And I did not—that glimpse of Herrel lying in the room which might have been in the Grey Towers—that was too fleeting a thing to serve me.
“I have!” He seemed possessed now by a rising belief in himself, as if, instead of being daunted by our plight, he was stimulated to greater efforts.
“Now listen—” He laid his hand on my arm, and I felt his touch only as I might the passing of a feather across my flesh. “This is as I saw it last—before I came here—”
He told me in detail of that tower room, of the divan on which we had lain side by side, of small things which had been imprinted in his memory in such vivid pictures that he must have rested there with greatly heightened senses before he had gone forth on this strange journey. And such was his telling that he made me see it, too, bit by bit, piece by piece, as if before my very eyes he was setting up figures and furnishings.
“Do you see, Gillan?” For the first time a note of anxiety crept into his whispers.
“You have made me see.”
“If I have only done so aright!”
“And now?”
“And now we do what you have done before, we fasten our wills on this—” he paused. “I am counted by half-man among them, since my power does not always serve me as I will. So, mayhap I put now to the test a flawed blade. But that I can not know until I use it. Let us go!”
I closed my eyes upon the light, upon Herrel. For this time him, too, I must shut away. He had his battle and I had mine, to the same end, yet we must fight it singly. I brought to mind that room Herrel had pictured for me—there were the windows—two—one looking north, one south, between them walls covered with tapestries so old their patterns had long since been lost, save for a hint of face here, a trace of a beast’s gleaming eyes there. Braziers and from them smoke, aromatic smoke. And in the centre of that chamber the divan. On it lay Gillan, Gillan whose face had shown a hundred times, a thousand times from mirrors when I looked therein, Gillan who bore the scars of wounds which had pained me. That was Gillan, the Gillan I must seek and find.
And I centred upon that Gillan, not only the body which slept, but the nature of that which wandered afar from it in dreams. Who is Gillan? No, rather what is Gillan? She is this and this, and she is also that. Some parts of her could I welcome, others I would shun if I could. For this was a measuring and an inner seeing of Gillan such as I had never known and it made me writhe for a nakedness beyond all stripping I have believed could exist. Almost did I wish to forego the awakening of that Gillan who had such small meannesses, such ill within her.
Who is Gillan? I am Gillan, in this way was I fashioned, by nature, by the will of others, by my own desires. And with this Gillan am I united for good or ill, therefore I must pick up the burden of being Gillan and—awake!
But did I wake? I was afraid to open my eyes, lest I see again the light of the alien world. Until at last I had to force myself—
I looked up at grey stone, very old, I turned my head and saw tapestries also faded by the years. I was awake!
Herrel! Swiftly I turned my head in the other direction to see him who must share this couch with me.
Empty!
I sat up, reached forth my hand to that emptiness, to prove to myself that my eyes were the deceivers, not that he was gone. And then I saw the hand I put forth and I was stricken motionless.