Jack Of Shadows

by Roger Zelazny

  Rising then, he dipped his blade into the pool and repeated a spell to intensify a thousandfold the power he had called into the weapon. With this, the blade began to vibrate in his hands so that he could scarcely hold it. Yet he braced himself and stood there, the light blazing above and the stilled tentacle beside him.

  The more he feared the power he had summoned, the longer it seemed that he stood there, and perspiration covered him like a sudden extra warm garment.

  Then, with a hissing that was near to a shriek, half the creature's bulk rose with a rush of waters above the pool's center. As it vanished below once more. Jack did not move, but maintained his stance until the pool began to boil.

  The creature did not rise again.

  Jack did not eat until he had circled the pool and entered the far tunnel; and he knew that he dare not sleep. He strengthened himself with drugs and continued on.

  Coming to a region of fires, he was attacked by a hairy man-beast and its mate. But he stepped into shadow, mocking them as they strove to reach him. Not wishing to waste time with torment and death, however, he renounced this pleasure and caused the shadows to transport him to their farthest limit.

  The region of fires was vast, and a moment later when Jack stood at its far edge, he knew he was nearing his goal. There, he prepared himself for the next place of danger he must pass.

  After a long walk, he began to detect the odors, reminding him of the Dung Pits of Glyve and something even more foul. He knew that soon he would be able to see again, though there would be no light and, consequently, no shadows into which he might escape. He rehearsed the necessary things.

  The odors increased in intensity, until he fought with his stomach to retain what it held.

  Then a gradual vision came into his eyes, unlike normal sight.

  He saw a dank land of rocks and caverns, and all over it a certain mournful brooding lay. It was a still place, where mists twined slowly through the air and among the rocks, where faint vapors hung over large puddles of still water, where the odors and mists and vapors clotted together a brief distance overhead, to rain an occasional silent moment, redistributing the filth across the land. Beyond these things, there was nothing to be seen; and a bone-touching chill was everywhere.

  He moved as quickly as he dared.

  Before he had gone a great distance, he detected the slightest of movements to his left. He saw that in one of the normally still puddles a tiny, dark creature covered with warty protuberances had hopped forth and now sat staring at him, unblinking.

  Drawing his blade, he touched it lightly with its tip and took a rapid step backward, expecting what might occur. The air exploded as the creature was transformed. It lowered above him on crooked, black legs; it had no face, no apparent depth of body, but existed as if it were drawn in outline with the darkest of inks. Those were not feet it stood upon. Its tail twitched as it spoke.

  "Give me your name, that comes this way," said the voice that chimed like the silver bells of Krelle.

  "None may have my name ere I have his," said Jack.

  A soft laughter emerged from the outline of a horned head.

  Then, "Come, come now! I wish to hear a name," it said. "I have no patience."

  "Very well, then," said Jack; and he spoke one.

  It fell to its knees before him.

  "Master," it said.

  "Yes," Jack replied. "That is my name. Now must you obey me in all things."

  "Yes."

  "Now I charge you by that which I spoke, to bear me upon your back to the ultimate bounds of your realm, leading downward, until you are able to pass no farther, nor any others of your kind. Nor will you betray me to any of your kin or comrades."

  "I will do as you have said."

  "Yes."

  "Repeat it back to me as an oath."

  This was done.

  "Bend now lower that I may mount you and you be my steed."

  He leaped onto the creature's back, reached forth, caught hold of either horn.

  "Now!" he said; and it rose and began to move.

  There was a clatter of hooves and a bellows-like exhalation. He noted that the texture of the thing beneath him was not unlike that of a very soft cloth.

  The pace quickened and the landscape began to blur whenever he attempted to fix his eyes... . And then there was silence.

  He became conscious of a black movement about him, and his face was fanned by breezes that came and went with the regularity of pulse-beats. He realized then that they were aloft, and that those were great black pinions that swept them above the noxious land.

  They travelled for a long while, and Jack wrinkled his nose, for the reek of the beast exceeded that of the countryside. They moved at a great speed, but he saw that similar dark shapes occasionally passed in the region of the upper air.

  Despite their speed, the journey seemed interminable. Jack began to feel that his strength would fail, for his hands began to ache now even more than they had when he had boiled the black pool. He feared sleep, for his grip might fail him. So he thought upon many things to keep him awake. Strange, he thought, how my greatest enemy did me my greatest favor. Had the Lord of Bats not driven me to it, I would never have sought the power I now contain, the power that made me ruler, that gave me full revenge and Evene ... Evene ... I still am not fully pleased with the terms by which I hold you. Yet ... What other way is there? You deserved what I did. Is not love itself a form of a spell, where one is loved and the other loves, and the one who loves is compelled to do the other's bidding? Of course. It is the same thing... . And he thought then of the Colonel her father, and of Smage, Quazer, Blite, Benoni, the Baron. All of them paid now, all of them paid. He thought of Rosalie, old Rosie, and wondered whether she still lived. He resolved to inquire after her one day at the Sign of the Burning Pestle on the coach road by the ocean. The Borshin. He wondered whether the deformed creature had somehow survived, and still sought his trail somewhere, with but one burning imperative within his twisted body. He was truly the Lord of Bats' last weapon, his last hope for revenge. Like the explosion of a geblinka pod, this made his mind return to things he had not thought upon for a long while: the computers and The Dugout, the classes and that girl-what was her name?-Clare! He smiled that he remembered her name, although her face was but a blur now. And there was Quilian. He knew he would never forget Quilian's face. How he had hated the man! He chuckled at having left him in the hands of the pain-crazed Borshin, who had doubtless mistaken Quilian for himself. He remembered that mad drive across the country, fleeing the light, heading darkside, not knowing whether the print-outs he carried did indeed contain The Key That Was Lost, Kolwynia. The thought of his exultation when he tested it. Although he had never revisited the light, he now felt a strange nostalgia for those days at the university. Perhaps it is because I am outside .now, he thought, and regarding this as an object; whereas then I was a part of the object itself... . And always his thoughts returned to the towering figure of Morningstar atop Mount Panicus...

  He reviewed his entire movement, from the Hellgames to his present situation, from the place where it had all started to this point in his current journey ...

  . .. And always his thoughts returned to Morningstar on Panicus, his only friend ...

  Why were they friends? What had they in common? Nothing that he could think of. Yet he felt an affection for the enigmatic being which he had never felt for another creature; and he felt that Morningstar, for some unknown reason, also cared for him... . And it was Morningstar who had recommended this journey as the only means to accomplish what must be done ...

  Then he thought of the conditions which prevailed on the darkside of the world; and he realized that he. Jack, was not merely the only one capable of making the journey, but also was largely responsible for the state of affairs which required the journey. It was not, however, a sense of duty or responsibility that motivated him. Rather, it was one of self-preservation. If the darkside died in the freezing All-winter,
he died with it; and there would be no resurrection... . And always his thoughts returned to the towering figure of Morningstar on top of Mount Panicus...

  The shudder that shook him then almost made him release the horns of the horrid creature he rode. The resemblance! The resemblance ...

  But no, he thought. This creature is but a dwarf compared to Morningstar, who towers in the heavens. This thing hides its face, where Morningstar is nobly featured. This beast stinks, while Morningstar smells of the clean winds and rains of the heights. Morningstar is wise and kind, and this thing is stupid and wills but malice. It is but an accident that both are winged and horned. This creature may be bound by a magician's spell, and who could bind Morningstar... ?

  Who indeed? he wondered. For is he not bound, though in a different fashion, as surely as I have bound this beast?-But it would take the gods themselves to do such a thing ...

  ... And he pondered this and dismissed it.

  It does not matter, he finally decided. He is my friend. I could ask this demon if he knows of him, but his reply would make no difference. Morningstar is my friend.

  Then the world began to darken about him, and he tightened his grip for fear that he was growing faint. But as they swooped lower and the darkness deepened, he knew that they were nearing the edge of the realm.

  Finally, the creature he rode alit. His sweet voice sang out:

  "This far may I bear you, master, and no farther. That black stone before you marks the end of the realm of darkness visible. I may not pass it."

  Jack passed beyond the black stone, and the blackness there was absolute.

  Turning, he said, "Very well, then. I release you from my service, charging only that should we ever meet again, you will not attempt to harm me and shall serve my will as you have on this occasion. I bid you depart now. Go! You are sent forth!"

  Then he moved away from that realm, knowing he was near to his goal.

  He knew this because of the faint trembling of the ground beneath his feet. There was a barely perceptible vibration in the air, as of the hum of distant machinery.

  He moved forward, meditating on his task. In a short while, magic would be ineffectual, the Key itself useless. But the black area through which he now proceeded should be empty of menace. It was simply the blackness that lay before the place. He caused a small light to occur intermittently, that his feet might be guided. He needed no guidance for direction; he had only to follow the sound and feel it strengthening... . And as it strengthened, his ability to produce the guide light weakened and finally failed.

  So he moved more carefully, not missing the tiny light too much because a pinpoint of light was now visible in the distance.

  12

  AS THE LIGHT grew in size, the humming and the vibrations increased in intensity. Finally, there was sufficient illumination for him to discern his course. After a time, the brightness was so intense that he cursed at having forgotten to bring his ancient sunglasses with him.

  The brightness resolved itself into a square of light. He lay on his belly and looked at the light for a long period of time, allowing his eyes to make an adjustment. He repeated this many painful times as he advanced.

  The floor of the place had become smooth beneath him; the air was cool but pleasant, and free of the odors which had prevailed in the region he had recently departed.

  He moved until it was immediately before him. There was nothing but the light. It was a gigantic opening onto something, but all that he could see was the yellow-white blaze; he heard a grinding, clanking and humming, as of many machines.

  ... Or the Great Machine.

  Again, he lay prone. He crawled forward through the opening. He lay upon a ledge, and for a moment his mind could not assimilate all that was below.

  It had so many gears that it would have been an interminable task to number them, some turning slowly, some rapidly, big unto small; and there were cams, drive shafts, and pulleys and pendulums-some of the pendulums twenty times his own height and slow, ponderous-and pistons and things that corkscrewed in and out of black metal sockets; and there were condensers, transformers and rectifiers; there were great blue-metal banks containing dials, switches, buttons and little lights of many colors, which constantly blinked on and off; there was the steady noise, a hum, of still further buried generators- or perhaps they were something else, possibly drawing power from the planet itself, its heat, its gravitational field, certain hidden stresses-which buzzed in his ears like a swarm of insects; there was the blue smell of ozone, reaching everywhere. There was the brilliant light coming from all the walls of the enormous cavern which housed the equipment; there was a battery of buckets which moved on guidelines above the entire complex, occasionally pausing in their courses to dump lubricants at various points; there were power cables, like snakes, that wound from one point to another, indicating nothing he could understand; there were tiny, glass-enclosed boxes, connected with the whole by means of thin wires, which contained components so minute that he could not discern their forms from where he lay. There were no fewer than a hundred elevator-type mechanisms, which constantly plunged into the depths or vanished overhead, and which paused at various levels of the machine to extrude mechanical appurtenances into portions of its mechanism; there were wide red bands of light on the farthest wall, and they flicked on and off; and his mind could not encompass all that he saw, felt, smelled and heard-though he knew that he must deal with it somehow-so that he searched for a clue for the best point of impact, seeking within that massive structure for that which would destroy it. He found titanic tools hung upon the walls, tools which could only have been wielded by giants, to service the thing-wrenches; pliers, pry bars, things-that-turned-other-things-and he knew that among them lay the thing that he required, a thing which, if properly employed, could break the Great Machine.

  He crept farther forward and continued to stare. It was magnificent; there had never been anything like it before, and there never would be again.

  He looked for a way down and saw a metal ladder, far off to his right. He went toward it.

  The ledge narrowed, but he managed to reach the topmost rung, and from there he swung himself into position.

  He began the long climb down.

  Before he had reached the bottom, he heard footsteps. They were barely discernible over the sounds of the machinery, but he distinguished them and backed into a shadow.

  Although the shadow did not possess its normal effects, it hid him. He waited there, near to the ladder, next to a generator of sorts, and thought of his next move.

  A small, white-haired man limped by. Jack studied him. The man paused, found an oilcan dripped lubricant upon various of the gears.

  Jack watched as the man moved about the Machine, finding various slots and openings, squirting oil into them.

  "Hello," he said, as the man passed.

  "What-Who are you?"

  "I am one who has come to see you."

  "Why?"

  "I came to ask you some questions."

  "Well, that is pleasant enough and I am willing to answer you. What do you wish to know?"

  "I was curious about the makeup of this Machine."

  "It's quite complex," he replied.

  "I daresay. Could you give me details?"

  "Yes," he answered, dazzling him with the explanation.

  Jack nodded his head and felt his hands grow stiff.

  "You understand?"

  "Yes."

  "What is the matter?"

  "I believe that you are going to die," he said.

  "What-" And Jack hit him in the left temple with the first knuckle of his right hand.

  Crossing to a rack of tools near the Machine, he studied the great array of equipment. He selected a heavy bar of metal, whose function he did not understand. Lifting it, he sought a small glass case the old man had indicated. He studied the hundreds of tiny, delicate gears which turned within it, moving at varying rates of speed.

  Raising the bar,
he smashed the glass, and began to destroy the intricate mechanism. With each blow he struck, a sound of mechanical protest arose from some new portion of the vast Machine. There came an irregular humming, then a series of clanking sounds, as if something large had snapped or been torn loose. This was followed by a shrill whine, a grating sound and the screech of metal against metal. Then came a banging noise, and smoke began to rise from

  several segments. One of the more massive gears slowed, hesitated, halted, and began again, moving more slowly than before.

  While Jack was smashing the other cases, the lubricant buckets went wild overhead, racing back and forth, emptying their contents, returning to the wall spigots for more. There came the smell of burning insulation and a popping, sizzling sound. The floor began to shake and several pistons tore loose. Now there were flames amid the smoke, and Jack coughed at the acrid fumes.

  The Machine quivered, ground to a halt, and began again, wildly. It shook as gears raced and axles snapped. It began tearing itself to pieces. The din grew painful to his ears. Wheeling, he hurled the bar into the Machine and fled in the direction of the ladder. /

  When he looked back, there were huge figures, partly hidden by the smoke, racing toward the Machine. Too late, he knew.

  He fled up the ladder, reached the ledge, raced into the darkness from which he had come.

  Thus began the destruction of the world he had known.

  The return journey proved in some ways more dangerous than the downward one had been, for the ground trembled now, stirring the dust and debris of the ages, cracking walls, causing portions of the roof to collapse. Twice, coughing, he had to clear litter from his way

  before he could pass. Then, too, the inhabitants of that great tunnel ran in panic, attacking one another with a new ferocity. Jack slew many to pass there.

  After emerging, he looked at the black orb, high in the heavens. The coldness still came by it, more perhaps now than when he had begun his mission of sabotage. He studied that sphere and saw that it appeared to have moved slightly from the position it had previously occupied.