More Than Fire

by Philip José Farmer

  “Here we make camp for the night,” Kickaha said. He pointed to an area halfway up the steep three-peaked mass. “By late noon tomorrow, if we push hard, we’ll be there.”

  Only he and Anana knew that he was not indicating the place where the gate was located. He seldom revealed to strangers what he truly intended to do. Misdirection, sleight of hand, and deviousness were traits stamped with the label: KICKAHA.

  Eleth said, “The gate is in a large heart-shaped boulder?”

  “That’s what I said,” Kickaha replied.

  Just before they got under their blankets that night in the entrance of a small cave, Anana said, “If they think they’re that close to the gate, they might try to murder us tonight.”

  “I doubt it. I think Red Orc has other plans for us. On the other hand, maybe they might try it. I’ll take the first watch.” He kissed her lips. “Sleep well.”

  After fifteen minutes, he slipped out from the blankets and crossed by the seemingly sleeping sisters. He crawled up the rocky slope to a boulder and climbed onto its top. After wrapping himself in a blanket, he sat and watched the small fire in the cave opening and the three women around it. Now and then, he looked in all directions. And he listened intently. Once, a huge dark body snuffled around fifty feet below the cave, kicked a few rocks, and sent them sliding noisily down the slope. Then it disappeared. Once, a long-winged bird-or was it a flying mammal?-swooped down and seized a small animal that squeaked once, and then predator and prey were gulped by the darkness.

  Night thoughts covered Kickaha as if a black parachute were collapsing over him.

  Foremost and most often recurring of the images that questioned him was Red Orc’s.

  Kickaha was certain that the Lord was nudging him and Anana toward a trap. Even if he had not overheard the raven and Eleth, he would have been sure. So far, he had gone along with with the Lord’s plot, whatever it was. That Red Ore had not tried to have them killed proved to Kickaha that the Lord wanted him and Anana alive. He was planning something special for them. Such as intense physical torture or a long imprisonment involving mental pain, or both.

  Kickaha thought back to when he and Anana had been in Los Angeles and Orc and his men had been trying to catch them. Now that he considered the events, it seemed to him that Orc’s men had been rather inept. And Orc’s organizing had not been of the best.

  Was that because Orc was playing with him?

  It seemed likely. One of the rules of the games Lords played with each other was that the opponent was always given a slight chance to escape a trap. If, that is, the enemy was quick and ingenious enough. And also had a certain amount of luck.

  The opening was always so slight that many Lords had been killed trying to get through their foes’ trapped gates into those foes’ private universes. Thus far, Kickaha and Anana had been fortunate. Their enemies, not they, had died or been forced to flee their strongholds.

  But it seemed to Kickaha that Red Orc had not tried hard enough, up to now, to capture or kill them.

  However, Red Orc might have gotten tired of the game and determined to get rid forever of his archenemies.

  Kickaha did not intend to allow that to happen.

  But Red Orc did, and he was not one to be ignored. Of all the Lords, he was the most dangerous and the most successful. No other Thoan had invaded so many universes or killed so many of their owners. No one else was so dreaded. Yet, it was said, according to what Anana and others had told Kickaha, that he had been a somewhat compassionate and loving youth. That is, by Thoan standards.

  But the unjust and harsh treatment by his father, Los, had metamorphosed Orc into a brutal and vindictive man. That was some people’s theory. But Kickaha believed that the change was caused by the genetic viciousness of the Lords. Whatever the reason, Orc had rebelled against his father. After a long struggle with him, during which several planets in several universes had been ruined, he killed Los. He had then taken his mother, Enitharmon-and his aunt, Vala-as his mates. This was not against Thoan morality, nor was it uncommon.

  Much later, Enitharmon had been killed by a raiding Lord. Red Orc had tracked the killer down, captured her, and tortured her so hideously that the Lords, though proficient and merciless torturers, were shocked.

  “It was shortly after this, only a thousand or so years afterward, but at least fifteen thousand Terrestrial years ago,” Anana had said, “that Red Orc became the secret Lord of both Earths. But you know that.”

  “Yes, I know,” Kickaha had said. “And Red Orc made the universes of the two Earths about then.”

  “That’s what I told you,” she had said. “When I told you that, I thought Red Orc had made them and that it was he who populated both planets with artificial human beings. But I believe now that I was mistaken. You see, there is also a story that the two Earths were made by a Lord named Orc. Not our Red Orc. He was one of the very first to make pocket universes. He was born many millennia before Red Orc. But he was killed by another Lord. The two Earths had no Lord for a long time. Then, one called Thrassa took over. But Red Orc, who was born long after the original Orc, killed Thrassa and became the Lord of the two Earths.”

  Kickaha, his mind leaping ahead to form a conclusion, had said, “The original Orc became confused with Red Orc.”

  She had nodded. “That’s it. Or something like it. During all those thousands of years and with the Lords’ failure to keep records and the infrequent communication among the Lords of the many universes, Red Orc became identified with the original Orc. Red Orc, he’s my uncle, you know, my mother’s brother, and Los and Enitharmon are my grandparents. Jadawin, who is also Wolff, is my half-brother …”

  “Don’t confuse me,” Kickaha had said. “Stick to the story.”

  “Sorry. Red Orc now sincerely believes that he did make the last of the universes to be made, the universes of Earth One and Earth Two. He is not sane, though he functions extremely well. Very few Lords are, in fact, entirely sane. Living so long seems to unbalance the mind of all but the most stable.”

  “Such as yourself,” he had said, grinning.

  “Yes. Let me tell you how I arrived at this conclusion.

  “That too long a life makes it hard for the brain to continue accepting reality and thus slips into unreality?”

  She had smiled and had said, “I wasn’t referring to that, though what you say is close to the truth. One night, some time ago when we were on the planet of the Tripeds, while you were sleeping soundly but I could not sleep at all, I got to thinking about Orc and Red Orc. And I saw what the true story has to be.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me about it in the morning?”

  “Because that was the night we were attacked by the Shlook tribe. Remember? We fought our way out but had to run for two days before we shook off the last of those three-legged cannibals. That made me forget about it until now. In fact, I was lucky to be able to recall it. After thousands of years, my brain, like all of the long-lived Thoan, stores only certain significant memories. It seems there’s only room enough-“

  “A struldbrugian’s lot is not a’appy one,” Kickaha had said in English.

  “What?”

  “Never mind. The true story, as you call it.”

  “You have these two stories about who made the two Earths. The one about the original Orc doing it is not now widespread. Most people now accept the story that Red Orc did it, and his claim that he did so has reinforced that belief. But he could not have done it.”

  She had paused so long that Kickaha had said, “Well?”

  “There’s the tale I’ve heard from several unhostile Lords; not many of those, I’ll admit. It’s supposed to have come from Red Orc’s boasting to his various mistresses, though he has a reputation for being close-mouthed about his personal life.

  “It concerns the time when he was stranded by his father on Anthema, the Unwanted World. Los thought his son would die there, though he did have a very slight chance to survive and a lesser chance to fi
nd the gate out of that world. But if he did find it, it would only lead him to Zazel’s World, also called the Caverned World. And there was no way out of that. Or so thought Los.

  “Red Orc did find the gate, and he went into Zazel’s World. This, according to Red Orc’s story, was a single vast computer but with countless caves and tunnels inhabited by plants and animals. Zazel had died long ago, but an artificial being was still the caretaker of it. This thing eventually let Red Orc talk it into sending him out through a gate Los knew nothing about. But Red Orc intended to reenter that world if he could-after he’d killed his father. That took several thousands of years, an epic in itself.

  “The reason my uncle wanted to get back into the Caverned World was that its memory contained the data for making a Creation-Destruction engine.”

  “You know what I’m talking about?”

  “Sure,” Kickaha had said. “The ancient Lords used such engines to make their artificial universes. But as time went by and then during the millennia-long and very destructive war of the Lords against the Black Bellers, the engines were destroyed or lost. And the data for making them were lost, too. Am I right?”

  “Right! But Red Orc found out that the data were still in the Caverned World’s circuits. He was in no position to get it then, but he was determined to come back someday and do so. Unfortunately for him, fortunately for us, he could not get back in. The creature that ruled the world must have sealed up the gate. Red Orc’s been trying to find a way to penetrate that world, though he hasn’t tried continuously. Other things, such as warring against the Lords, have kept him busy. But I think that he’s almost given up the effort. He’s been frustrated too often.”

  “From what I know of him, I doubt that,” Kickaha had said.

  One of the recent things occupying Red Orc would have been trying to find Kickaha and Anana. The Thoan’s pride would be deeply wounded because the two had eluded him so successfully and for such a long time. He would be in one of his well-known rages. God help the people around him; God help the men he had sent to track down and catch Kickaha and Anana. However, these people were no innocents. Anything bad that happened to them, they deserved.

  He might know by now that his greatest two enemies were on-had been on-the Whaziss planet. But he did not know exactly where they were. Or did he?

  Though Orc might never have completely lost the trail on Earth of Kickaha and Anana, he must have lost it when they escaped to the Lavalite planet. He must have been trying to find them during the fifteen years they were on the Whaziss planet.

  Just what else had the Thoan been up to during that decade and a half? How many Lords had he killed, and how many of the pocket universes were now his?

  Who was the mysterious Englishman costumed in early nineteenthcentury clothes who had been in that aerial mansion on the Lavalite planet?

  Where were Wolff and Chryseis now?

  Then the ancient sleeper with the insectile face swam into Kickaha’s mental sea. He was an enigmaed enigma. Why had he awakened just as the intruders from a much later time had left that curious chamber? Just how and why had they blundered into that room, which must surely be heavily guarded by whatever guarded it?

  Kickaha did not believe that they had “blundered” into it or that the awakening was a coincidence. Coincidences might happen, but even these, he believed, if dug into deeply enough, would reveal the connections.

  Anana came to take over her watch. They talked in whispers for about ten minutes. When they were clear on what to do the next day, Kickaha went to the cave to sleep, though not deeply. Thus the night passed, with each taking turns on the boulder. He was on it when a brief gray light announced that the sun was just around the curve of the planet.

  The sisters had not once gotten up, though they had shifted around a lot trying to find a comfortable position on the hard rock.

  After they had spattered some water on their faces and eaten their simple breakfast, they scattered to various boulders and rocky projections behind which to evacuate. After returning to the camp, they loaded up their gear and set out, Kickaha leading. Before they had put a half-mile behind them, Eleth called a halt.

  “This is not the way you told us we’d be going!”

  Kickaha said, “I pointed out the spot we’d travel to. But we don’t take a direct route. This way will be much easier.”

  After two hours, the sisters complained that they were taking a hell of a long way roundabout.

  Kickaha stopped in front of an eighty-foot-high monolith of reddish granite. Its base was within a few feet of the edge of the cliff on which the group stood. Ten feet up from the base, a half-sphere of glossy black rock extruded from the granite. It looked like a cannonball that had been shot at close range into the monolith.

  “Is that the gate?” Eleth said, pointing at the stone pillar. “No,” Kickaha said.

  “Then where is it? Are we anywhere near it?” “It’s not the gate, but the gate site is in it.”

  He opened the deerskin bag attached to his belt and pulled out the silvery trumpet.

  Eleth, eyes wide, sucked in air noisily. “The Horn of Shambarimen!” Ona was too awed at first to make any sound. Then she and Eleth broke into high-pitched chatter. Kickaha let them go on for about a minute before calling for silence.

  He raised the Horn to his lips and blew. As soon as the last note had faded away, an arch-shaped area seven feet high and five feet wide formed at the base of the rock. It shimmered as if made of heat waves. Kickaha thought that he could almost see through the ripplings to the other side and that something huge and dark was there. But that was, of course, an illusion.

  “We have ten seconds before it closes!” he said loudly. He waved the Horn. “Everybody into it! Now!”

  Anana and he pulled out their beamers and shoved the sisters toward the gate. Eleth was shouting, “No! No! How do we know it’s not a trap you’ve set for us!”

  She tried to run away. Anana tripped her with an extended leg and then kicked her in the buttocks as she struggled to get up on her feet.

  Looking terrified, Ona stumbled toward the entrance, then darted to one side and tried to get past Anana. Anana knocked Ona down with the side of her hand against her neck.

  Eleth also ran, holding up the hem of her robe; then she stumbled and fell flat on the ground. She refused to get up, though Kickaha shouted that he would cut her in half.

  The shimmering on the face of the rock was gone.

  He and Anana stepped back so that they could cover the sisters with their beamers.

  “It’s plain as the nose on a camel that you two don’t want to go through that gate,” Kickaha said. “Yet, a moment ago, you seemed quite willing to go with us. Why’re you so reluctant all of a sudden?”

  Eleth got onto her feet and tried to rub the dirt from the front of her white robe. She said, “We really don’t trust you.”

  “A very weak excuse!” Anana said loudly. “What is the real reason you tried to get away? You know something’s waiting for us there? Were you hoping to lead us into a trap?”

  “We panicked!”

  “Yes,” Ona said, faking a snuffling, “we got scared.” “Of what?” Anana asked.

  Kickaha bellowed, “You were afraid that Red Orc would catch you along with us, betray you, and kill you, too? Is that right?”

  Whatever surprise Eleth felt, she did not reveal it. But Ona winced as if he had struck her with a fly swatter.

  “Red Orc?” she screeched. “What does he have to do with that?” She half turned and waved at where the gate had been.

  Kickaha walked up to her until his nose almost touched hers. He spoke even more loudly. “I overheard your raven, Wayskam, talking to Eleth! So

  I know all! All!”

  He thought, I don’t by any means know all. But I’ll scare them into confessing everything. If I can’t, I’ll let Anana loose on them. Her heart isn’t as soft as mine. I hope I can stand the screaming.

  The sisters said nothing.
That he knew the name of the raven showed them that he was on to them.

  “Your protector, the bear-woman,” he said, “is dead. Anana killed it.” Eleth smiled slightly and said, “Ah! It wasn’t a big cat that clawed you!

  It was…”

  “I didn’t catch her name,” Kickaha said. “Yes, she did tear me up a little. Anana shot her before I could do it.”

  Eleth still kept silence, but Ona said, “We couldn’t help ourselves! We…”

  Eleth screamed, “Shut up! They don’t know anything! They’re just trying to get you to talk!”

  “Tell you what, Ona,” Anana said. “You tell us everything-I mean everything, nothing left out-and I’ll spare your life. As for Eleth … She stabbed the beamer at Ona.

  “Spill it all!”

  Eleth spoke with a diamond-hard voice. No quaverings in her.

  “If we talk, we’ll die. If we don’t talk, we’ll die. It’s better not to talk. Ona, I absolutely forbid you to say another word about it!”

  “You think Red Orc’ll save us now?” her sister said, sneering. “He’ll pop up just in time to save us? How could he? Besides, what does he care about us? I think-“

  “That’s enough!” Anana said. “You’ve both said enough to damn yourselves. Not that we needed a word from you to know that. Eleth, you talk first. If you hold anything back, and Ona then reveals that you have been holding back, you die! Immediately!”

  Eleth looked around as if she expected Red Orc to come riding down from the mountains to rescue her. No savior was in sight, and Eleth was realist enough to know that none was coming. She began talking.

  It was much as Kickaha had expected it to be. The sisters had not, as they had claimed, escaped from Orc when he invaded their palace. They had been caught before they could get to a gate. Instead of killing them, Red Orc had forced them to be tools to catch Kickaha and Anana.

  At this point, Anana snorted and said, “Forced? You, the iron-hearted daughters of Urizen, had to be forced to become our enemy?”