Spirits of Flux and Anchor

by Jack L. Chalker

  The mysterious giant nodded his goat’s head and walked up the rocky surface between the slabs and looked down at her. After what she had just witnessed and now expected to go through, she was anything but taken aback by this great apparition.

  “What’s your name, girl?” the goat-man demanded to know.

  “Cass,” she told him. There was no use in being coy, particularly when she knew she was facing the power behind this little throne.

  “Now, then, Cass—you were with the second train?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Whose train was it? What was the name of the stringer?”

  “Matson, sir.”

  “Urn. Damn. And I suppose he sent a dugger ahead to Persellus when he saw the remains of the first train?”

  “Yes, sir. Straightaway.”

  He turned to Roaring Mountain. “Another stupid mistake. I don’t suppose you left anybody to take care of that little detail?”

  The priest shrugged. “How was I to know there’d be a second train by so soon? Besides, I lost a lot of troops there.”

  “Idiot.” He turned back to Cass. “You don’t seem particularly frightened by me.”

  “In the past few days I’ve been sold to a stringer, forced marched in the void, cleaned up after a massacre, been in a fight, and just now I witnessed a castration and the turning of a lot of good people into animals, and I was about to join them myself when you showed up. I’m sorry, sir master wizard or whatever you are. I just don’t think I have any more fright left.”

  The giant was impressed. “Now this is something special, priest. A hundred like this and we could rule World. And you were about to turn her into a slavish goat-woman!” He paused a moment, controlling his temper. “Do you know who and what I am?”

  “A wizard. Isn’t that what they call people like you?

  The goat man crouched down, and she could see that the goat head was not some sort of mask. Either it was all illusion or else the man had literally changed himself into this whatever it was. She decided on the latter, noticing that he wore a ring with a serpent design on his right ring finger. She also noticed that he was most certainly left-handed.

  “I’m one of the Seven Who Wait,” the creature told her. “Does that bother you?”

  “Not particularly,” she answered honestly. “The church hadn’t exactly impressed me for honesty and sincerity. I see no reason why your side should be much different.”

  He looked at her for a moment. “There is great power in you,” he told her. “I can feel it. Tremendous latent power that even now makes tentative probes at my defenses. Your very calmness, your intelligence, and your almost magnetic ability to get into the worst of situations makes me suspicious. I have seen this combination before, in many bodies, with many faces.” He sighed and got up and turned to Roaring Mountain. “Come. Your fun here can wait. We must talk and soon, for I must be quickly gone from here. I warn you though not to try your tricks with that one. What she has within her is stronger than you. For your own sake, kill her.”

  Cass suddenly felt some fear return, particularly when the priest grinned and said, “I’ll do it right now.”

  “No! Not until I am gone.” Was that a worried tone in the master wizard’s voice? What sort of power, she wondered, did she have that even one of the Seven, if that was who he was, would not like to take on?”

  The two men of evil walked away, and Roaring Mountain went to the cave. Dar met him at the entrance just inside the waterfall and they exchanged a few words. Then Dar nodded, and the evil priest rejoined his master and they went off out of view. Dar hesitated a moment, then walked out and over to the slabs, then up to Cass herself. None of the savages or goat-women made any attempt to stop him.

  Roaring Mountain had given Dar practically everything, she saw. His build, already considerable, was now totally filled and so muscular that you could see every flex or movement in them, and his already strong, lean, handsome face was somehow altered into near total perfection, set off by a crop of thick, black hair. If there were male gods, then he was the absolute perfection of them—with one detail importantly missing. He was Roaring Mountain’s pet joke.

  “Come to gloat?” she asked him sourly. “Or cry on my shoulder, which isn’t very good for that sort of thing right now.”

  “He ordered me to kill you,” he told her. “As soon as goat-face was gone.”

  She sighed. “Well, go ahead. Get it over with.”

  “I’m not going to do it, Cass.” He reached down and freed the restraints binding her to the slab. She sat up uneasily, a little suspicious but feeling that she had nothing to lose.

  “Now what am I supposed to do? Run and be eaten alive by those things over there?”

  He shook his head slowly. “No. They won’t hurt you. Look, I did a dumb thing. I did a lot of dumb things. I just kept thinking of Lani, and that she was out here, and then I saw you start acting like that stringer’s partner and it all just sort of snapped. I kind of deserve this, I guess, but you don’t.”

  She suddenly felt a little uneasy. “Where’s Lani now, Dar?”

  “Dead,” he said softly. “I killed her. I—” his voice choked a bit—“I put her out of her misery, really. That bastard made me a woman who looks like a man, thinks like a man, wants like a man. He made her all sex, frenzied like, and only for me—and I couldn’t do a damned thing. She was in torture from his games, Cass—I gave her peace.”

  She was silent a moment, not wanting to desert him but fearful that Roaring Mountain, who couldn’t be far off, might return at any second. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Look, they have to have a war party heading this way. I say we take our chances, get into the void, and wait. The odds ain’t great, but even if we did it’s better than staying here.”

  She was surprised. “We? You’re coming, too?”

  He nodded. “Oh, I thought about killing myself, but I got this real urge inside me to pay ‘em back. Pay ‘em all back, like you said back in the gym at the start. I want to get these bastards, and particularly I want to get the ones that caused this back in Anchor Logh. Will you come?”

  She thought a moment. “What about the others here?”

  “No time, and too big a risk. Either they’ll be rescued or they won’t, but if we take the whole mob they’ll catch us sure.”

  “All right, then. Let’s move.”

  They walked in back of the slabs and she found it a level area above the encampment, mostly more of the sheet rock with little growing. She could see the whole thing from up there and was shocked to see how tiny the place really was. They had less than twenty meters to reach the void, and they made it before any alarms were sounded, holding hands so they would not get separated.

  As soon as they were in the void itself she stopped him. “What’s the matter?” he asked nervously.

  “We don’t want to get too far from the pocket or we’ll just wind up lost and alone,” she told him. “I say let’s walk just a hundred paces in a straight line, counting from now. If we can’t see the pocket from there, then we stop and wait there.”

  “Fair enough for a start,” he agreed, and began the counting process. At a hundred paces they stopped and looked back. There was a very slight, almost imperceptible lightening of the void in the direction from which they’d come, but otherwise there was no way to know that anything was there. It provided the only orientation they had, so they decided to settle for it. There was nothing to do now but sit down on the soft, spongy, invisible ground and wait until they had to return or strike out blindly in search of food and water.

  “I wanted to bring a canteen, at least,” Dar told her, “but all that stuff was over by the mules and so were they.” They sat in silence for a while, and Cass lay back and tried to relax as much as she could. Although they were most probably dead people at this point, the immediate terrors were out of the way and she found herself suddenly unable to stop shaking and crying a bit. She just didn’t fight it any more,
and let it come, and it was a long time flowing from her. Dar held her and tried to comfort her, and it was some time before she realized that he was crying, too.

  Coduro had brought half the armed might of Persellus, from the looks of it, including two officers of high rank that were real wizards, albeit of lesser powers.

  “One of mine went nuts and defected, carrying off a girl,” he told them. “We beat them off and cost them some lives, but with all the captives he’s got this bastard has another army at his command. How many troops you got with you?”

  The colonel, a bearded man in his fifties but in prime condition and looking ready for a fight, responded, “Fifty experienced soldiers, a chief noncom, and the captain and myself. But how are you going to find a tiny pocket in all this space? They could be anywhere by now. We came as an escort, not a raiding party.”

  “Well, I’ll lead you to his pocket,” the stringer told him. “I don’t know why except I kind of took a liking to her, but I put my string on the girl he carried off. It’ll lead us right to them.”

  “Well! That’s different! Tremendous stroke of luck, though.”

  Matson suddenly hesitated. It was an odd thing, him putting that string on the only one that was captured. He’d never done anything like that before in his life, and he didn’t know why he’d done it this time. He shrugged, went about his business, and didn’t think much more on it as he recreated the strong defensive position. He didn’t think the cult could possibly have turned all those captives into troops that could be used effectively in so short a time, but he didn’t want to return here and find out he was wrong, either. Finally he remounted his horse and went over to the soldiers. “Let’s go get ‘em,” he said enthusiastically.

  Rory Montagne, he thought as he rode. A minor real wizard, able to make changes in individual human and animal bodies but that was all. He certainly wouldn’t have the power to create a pocket on his own. The one he’d used for years down near Anchor Dowt had been an old one created by some wizard traveling the void long ago, or so the story went. He remembered when Montagne was still leading a double life out of Haratus, a Fluxland near there, acting as a scenic designer for the local wizard while kidnapping a number of local women, one by one, and hauling them off to this pocket of his for who knew what purpose? Finally the bastard had picked on a woman who happened to be a drill instructor at the local military school and he’d damn near had his balls kicked off and was lucky to escape with his life.

  What was he doing here?

  The tiny, thin energy trail left by Cass was ragged but not hard for him to follow, since it had his personal frequency. They did not have a long ride before he suddenly raised his hand and brought the troop to a halt.

  “What’s the matter?” the colonel asked him, hand going to his pistol.

  “See that slightly lighter area over there? That’s got to be it. The trail goes right to it. I’d like to take a few troopers and scout it first. Best to know what we’re getting into.”

  The colonel nodded and turned. “Fiver! Mihles! Godort! Fall in over here and dismount!”

  The three soldiers, two men and a woman, looked tough and smart enough. Matson loaded his shotgun and dismounted with them. “Stay ready,” he warned the officer. “Montagne’s range is pretty limited—he has to be looking at you to do anything—but he’s too much for me to handle.” With that he and the soldiers started cautiously forward.

  “Sir!” one of the troopers hissed when they were almost to the pocket’s border.

  “Huh? What’s the matter?”

  “Over there to the left. One, maybe two shapes. Guards, perhaps.”

  He looked in the indicated direction and was impressed by the senses of the trooper. These were good soldiers. The figures were barely blobs at this distance, but they fanned out and moved slowly to close the net. At the point where they could finally make out the figures, though, Matson stopped, held up his hand again, and stood up, then pointed his shotgun at the pair. He knew one of them, but the other was a stranger, and he didn’t know what they might have done to the one he did know by this time.

  “All right—both of you! Stand with hands raised, facing me!” he commanded sharply.

  They both jumped at the voice, then did as instructed. Cass suddenly recognized the lean figure in black. “Matson! Thank heaven!”

  “Or somebody. You understand I don’t know who’s been messing with your mind, so I have to be cautious. There’s three more guns on you two, so come forward and don’t make any sudden moves.”

  They did as instructed, and soon were facing him across less than two meters. Matson reclipped his shotgun and walked up to them, staring at the larger of the two. “I’ll be damned! I thought you were a man!”

  “I used to be,” Dar responded glumly.

  Matson stared at him. “Don’t I know you?”

  Quickly Cass stepped in, telling the story as completely as she could, while trying to spare Dar some of the most painful memories. Matson just nodded and waited for her to run out of words.

  Finally he said, “All right. So you say he’s changed about twenty of the girls into his playthings, and he’s got ten of the others. That’s pretty fair, considering that the new ones won’t know how to fight. I don’t like this goat-headed fellow, though. Handling him will be rough.”

  “Oh, it’s been hours,” she assured him. “He was going quickly, or so he said. I’m sure he’s gone now.”

  “We’ll have to take the chance,” the stringer decided. “All right—you two stay here for now. We’re still going to keep you covered, so don’t move until we tell you. Okay?”

  “We won’t,” Cass assured them. “I just wish you’d brought a drink of water with you.”

  “All in good time,” he assured her, and was off.

  They pretty much were able to confirm the pocket’s layout and general dimensions that Cass gave them from cautious observation, and a trooper was sent back to bring up the rest. Matson returned to the pair and lit a cigar. “Okay. You sure that cave’s got no outlet?”

  “I’m sure,” Dar told him. “It doesn’t even go back very deep, but it’s kind of squared off, arranged like a one-bedroom cubicle.”

  He nodded, and the rest of the troops came up. Matson and the troopers quickly sketched in the layout and the stringer and the colonel mapped out a plan of attack. They had four submachine guns with them, and those were placed at the most likely points of breakout. Matson eyed the guns greedily, thinking of what he could have done to the cult if he’d had even one with enough ammunition. Twenty-five of the other troopers were stationed in between, so there was almost a continuous zone of fire. The others would ride right in, guns blazing, and secure positions inside as quickly as possible, with the hope of driving those inside out to the waiting firepower. If they could not within ten minutes, then the outer circle would move in with two of the machine guns taking the heights above the slabs.

  Both Dar and Cass, after getting some water and a food bar each from the troopers, volunteered to go in with the party. Both Matson and the colonel were dubious. “We can’t totally trust you yet, but I would like somebody there who knows the layout, just in case,” the stringer said. “How about they come in with us in the middle of the party, undressed and unarmed as they are?”

  The colonel nodded. “If they’re crazy enough to do it, why not? Take the two gunners’ horses there.”

  Both Cass and Dar mounted expertly and brought their horses into the formation. Dar gave a dry chuckle.

  “What’s so funny?” Cass wanted to know.

  “I just realized how much easier and more comfortable it is to ride a saddle naked if you’re a girl, that’s all.”

  “Maybe you’ll get to like it,” she returned, feeling better than she had since entering the Temple, despite the imminent battle. “Hell, with those muscles you got bigger tits than I do by far.” And, with that, they were off.

  10

  PERSELLUS

  The attack was
simple, direct, and quite effective because it was a total surprise. Half the riders came in from one side of the pool, the other half, almost perfectly synchronized, rode in from the other way. The inhabitants of the pocket, as hoped, were first totally frozen in confusion at the noise of the attack, then pulled in several directions, not certain what to do or who to fight first.

  Several of the savages, undone by this, simply stood there uncomprehending and allowed themselves to be shot down. One, up in a tree, took the first target of opportunity and pounced down on a trooper, dismounting him. Seeing it, Dar leaped from his horse as the savage raised a bone club to deliver the fatal blow and knocked the wild animallike woman away. Another trooper then shot her down.

  It was over almost before it started, in a carefully planned hail of bullets. Part of the reason was that the newly transformed captives did nothing to fight back the attack. Some died simply because it was not immediately obvious that they were no threat, but the bulk of them simply huddled back in a large mass against the rocks and cowered in terror.

  As soon as Cass hit the small grove of trees she bounded off her horse and looked for signs of Roaring Mountain and his savage creatures, but aside from the pitiful ones huddling in the rocks there were none. The riders made two passes before they seemed to realize this as well, and they met in the center of the amphitheater and stopped, several dismounting and taking up guard positions.

  A rider left to gather in the encircling troops, and soon the machine gunners had set up a defensive post on the rocky flat above the slabs from which they could hit almost anything in the pocket.

  Matson, still atop his horse, reclipped his shotgun and looked around. “Where the hell is Montagne?”

  The colonel frowned. “It was too quick for him to duck out through some escape hatch. He’s got to be in the cave.” The mounted troops split up into two detachments and rode to the paths on either side of the waterfall. The captain, who was the other wizard in the troop, now satisfied that his people were in control, took the right path, while the colonel, with Matson, covered the left.