There was a mist before her eyes—green-blue. As if the water which had washed here was rising to capture them in a heavy fog of moisture.
“Lord—!”
Dwed’s voice—thin—far away—despairing—
The pain stabs came less hard. Brixia strove to see through the mist—
Uta on the dome—Marbon beneath it—The girl uncovered her ears to rub her eyes. She teetered on the wall but made herself edge forward, one fearful step after another. What had happened? That blast of sound—then pain—
Her sight cleared slowly. She could see the dome. See it—and at its crown a dark spot. Uta was gone. Lord Marbon jumped and reached—leaped again, only to slip back. He was striving to gain the place Uta had stood.
Brixia was dizzy, light headed, a little sick. In order to go on she was forced to seat herself on the wall top, hitch along there. Lord Marbon, with a mighty effort, had somehow reached the top of the dome. Then—he was gone! She saw Dwed now leaping vainly to follow, only to slide back again.
“Lord—Lord—!” his voice rang out, but this time the sound of his voice brought no after pain such as had answered Uta’s cry.
There was no sight of Marbon or the cat. Brixia reached the end of the wall. Dwed stood against the foot of the dome, his chest heaving. He pounded on the surface before him with his fists. Gingerly Brixia arose to stand upright.
Now she could see more plainly that puzzling alteration in the crest of the dome. There was an opening there! But how to reach it—? She called to Dwed—
“Climb up here. There is a door above there.”
He was not long in joining her, still breathing hard from his attempts to scale the dome.
“He’s gone—!” Dwed gasped.
Brixia seated herself again, her legs dangling over, hands braced in a tight hold on either side of her body.
“We can’t get to him now.”
Dwed turned on her fiercely. “Where he went, I will follow!” he said between set teeth.
Let him solve the problem then, Brixia thought. Dwed kicked at her with one foot.
“Move,” he ordered. “If I take a run and then jump—”
The girl shrugged. Let him try such tricks. Why she had come this far and involved herself in such madness, she could not understand. She hitched away along the wall, rounding the slightly curved end to allow Dwed room to maneuver.
The boy backed up. Hands on hips, he stood a long moment to measure by eye the wall, the space beyond, the rise of the dome. Then he sat down and pulled off his boots, thrusting their tops under his belt. Feet bare he retreated farther back on the wall.
Turning, he ran, and Brixia watched him, caught in spite of herself in a hope that he would succeed. He leaped out and beyond, his body slamming against the side of the dome. One of his hands caught in the hold he sought, the edge of the opening.
Scrambling against the dome with feet and other hand, he fought until he was able to hook a second hold. Then he drew himself up and disappeared in turn. Brixia sat alone.
Her gaze centered on the dome. Well, they had done it—let the broken-witted lord and his stubborn fosterling seek whatever they believed might lie there. It was none of hers to hunt. Her hands moved restlessly on her knees.
What was Uta’s part in all this? That the cat had sought the dome first—had cried out in such a way as to be answered by that frightening sound (or had Uta’s cry itself somehow been expanded into that?) Brixia could not deny. But the purpose—?
“Zarsthor’s Bane—” she spoke the words aloud. They sounded curiously deadened and far away. Even the water had ceased to wash about the walls and lay almost frighteningly mirror still. And there was a feeling of—of loneliness!
Brixia had long known loneliness. She had endured, come to accept that state as not only safe but natural. But this was a loneliness beyond—beyond what? Once more she was aware of that clarity of sight, that feeling of being claimed by something outside—beyond—
She shook her head, striving to shake loose the grasp of those half feelings—half thoughts—make them leave her alone. Alone—Brixia gazed up into the arch of the sky. No bird crossed it. This whole valley seemed a deserted, forsaken place. Silence closed about her.
Against her will she gazed once again at the dome—at that opening in the crest which she saw from there only as a shadow against its surface. It—was—none—of—her—desire—She gripped the wall on either side until her fingers were numb with the force she put upon them.
She fought. No—she would not! It—they—nobody could make her do this! She would turn—go back—this was no trap of her seeking.
Trap! Memory stirred.
Traps which had beckoned or compelled and which the flower had broken for her. Could the blossom work again? The girl loosened one hand, her fingers stiff, to search within her clothing, to bring the closed bud into the light.
It seemed even more tightly furled now than she remembered it. The flower was dead—it must be—nothing could live this long after being picked.
Brixia raised her hand until the dried looking bud rested just below the level of her chin. There was still a faint scent clinging to it. Somehow sniffing that gave her a shadow of hope.
She breathed deeply once, again—Then lifted her head to gaze to the dome and that opening. She could do as well as Dwed in reaching that, perhaps better. And she was going to! She was not one alone—she was a part of three—
Stowing the bud away again, Brixia got confidently to her feet. As Dwed had done she retreated along the wall, measured the distance with care—ran—and jumped!
Her hands caught on the edge of the opening as they had upon the wall top. Then she heaved up and over. Down into the dark she plunged as one might dive into a lake. But she did not fall far and she landed somehow with a roll she had not consciously planned.
Around her was no complete dark. Rather there shone a blueish gleam which her eyes quickly adjusted to. The chamber was bare, but facing her was a doorway which led in the direction of where the outer tower must stand. Towards that she headed as soon as she regained her feet.
There was a passage beyond opened into another room. Here she found those who had come before her. And—
Brixia gave a cry and dashed forward.
Uta crouched on a pillar her mouth half opened, for between her jaws she held a small box. The hair along the cat’s spine stood erect, one forepaw was raised in either threat or warning, while her tail lashed in rage.
Knife in hand Marbon circled the cat, while Dwed crept in on the other side, also with a drawn blade. Uta saw the girl. With one of those leaps such as launched her on prey, she cleared Dwed’s shoulder and landed, claws out, against Brixia, ripping the girl’s clothing and scratching the flesh beneath as she fought for a more secure hold.
One arm about the cat, her own knife now in hand, Brixia faced the other two. Their expressions chilled her. In the past Marbon had shown a face without life, then one filled with driving eagerness. What looked out of his eyes now was worse than any toad thing’s malice. For this emotion dwelt within her own kind—or the likeness of her kind. While Dwed’s features had gone slack. He seemed as lacking in consciousness as his lord had earlier been, yet still he moved with cruel purpose. Uta was the quarry for them both.
Brixia backed as Dwed got between her and the door through which she had come. Her shoulders met the wall of the chamber and she slipped along with that at her back even as she had stood at bay before the bird-woman. For some reason they did not rush her. Had they done so they surely could have pulled her down. But, though she was sure they meant to kill her if she did not yield them the cat, they did not yet close in.
The near insane rage in Marbon’s eyes spread to twist his features into a mask of cruel purpose. He took a quick step forward. But the result was as if he had tried to walk through the wall itself. Brixia was startled when the man slammed to a full stop, unable to pass some barrier she could not see. Uta’s head moved against her. The box was still clamped in the cat’s jaws.