I wondered how many intruders had died in her tender arms.
***
The road to Time was dry and cold. That's what she called it—Time. Just that one word. We tried to understand it, but it didn't seem to translate. The sunlight slowly faded as we crept deeper into the crevice. It was a narrow, steep passageway, an almost vertical sandslide between two grim stone walls of a massive prehistoric megalith buried in the sands. The sand fell down on our heads, hissing, a faint dust from the world above. The sky was a narrow niche, already fading. It looked like certain death, but there we were. The witch was on point, and I was right behind her. One false move and I'd kill her. I do believe she knew it. She was helpless in our hands. Dr. Doom had pumped her full of our own witchcraft, and she was going to do exactly what we wanted and nothing else.
Dry and cold. The dust of eternity was all around us. She paused at a jagged crack in the wall, looking back at me. It was just a crawl space. She wanted to go in. Perfect. I was not surprised, I was fully expecting it. Her eyes were empty. She was truly lovely. She wore her black cloak but I knew what was under there. Had I been alone, back then, I would surely have succumbed—and died.
"Time," she said in Oduran. I looked in, triggering the flash on my E. A perfectly flat stone ceiling, less than a mark from the floor. My tacmod mapped out the route. A checkerboard approach—the ceiling was constructed of massive stone blocks. Some of them appeared to have fallen down to the floor, blocking the way.
The witch was crying silently, pale and frightened. I didn't like it much. I snapped a cuff around one of her ankles and attached a line.
"If we die, you die," I said. She nodded, her cheeks streaked with tears. She recovered a primitive torch from out of the crack, oil-soaked rags tipping an iron rod. She chipped away with flint and steel, trying to produce a spark. I flamed it for her with my E.
Dragon peering in, glowering. "This looks interesting. What do you think, Three?"
"There's a large chamber up ahead. But we've got to crawl through that maze first. The ceiling—I kind of worry about it."
"This pattern…" Dragon pondered his tacmap. "It almost looks as if those stone blocks fall down from the ceiling—at random."
"Speak, witch." I poked her with my E. "Is it dangerous in there? Will we die if we go on?"
"Perhaps." She gazed at me blankly. "Many have died there. We may, too."
"And who is going to kill us?"
"Time. Time kills us all."
"That's enough nonsense," I said. "Dragon, Trigger, DD, we go in. Psycho, stand by with the others and secure our rear. Give us a few hours before you start worrying."
"Tenners. Hey, Thinker, this would be the perfect time to renegotiate that 100C you claim I owe you."
"I wish to come!" Fingers said in Oduran. "I can give you advice. I'll be your adviser!"
"If you take him, take me as well," Kesan said. "I can warn you when he starts to betray you."
I laughed. "All right, fine. But keep it quiet and don't get in the way."
"Note the part about keeping quiet," Fingers said to Kesan.
"You're terrified, aren't you? Why don't you stay behind? You're not impressing anybody."
"Do we have to take her?"
"Let's go, Thinker," Dragon said. "Come on, you want to live forever? The witch goes first—don't let her get away."
"That's a ten," I replied. The witch squirmed into the passageway, hitching her robe up around her waist. Lovely long legs. I followed her in, keeping the line tight. She reminded me of Moontouch—another princess of the dark.
Megatons of rock hung over us as we crawled slowly over gritty stone. It was cold and dry and dark, but I was hot and sweaty. We were worming our way somewhere underneath a great stone building buried in the sands. From time to time we ran up against a wall, and had to turn aside. The tacmap told the story. If one of those gargantuan blocks fell on us, we'd be squashed like bugs. I kept a tight rein on our young lady. Her torch cast eerie shadows and oily smoke swirled around me. Sweety said the oxygen level in the tunnel was fine. Something came tumbling past the witch's legs. A human skull, crushed, gaping at me with sightless eyes, outlined harshly in my spotlight. We crawled through his bones.
"Suggest we speed this up, gang," I said. "The last visitor…didn't make it."
"We're following you, Thinker."
"Move it, girl!" I snapped. She stopped, trembling and sobbing. I jammed the E into her ribs, terrified. "Move or I'll kill you!"
An awful, grinding vibration suddenly struck like an earthquake, freezing my heart. Then a deafening blast shook our world. The stone floor shook beneath me, and a choking cloud of dust swirled past us. A frightening silence followed. I was still alive—but it sounded as if the whole building had collapsed.
"Count off!" Dragon snarled.
"Deadman! The damned ceiling fell in! It just missed me!"
"Count off!"
"Thinker."
"Trigger!"
"DD. Fingers and Kesan are all right." All there! My heart hammered.
"Kill the bitch!"
"Move," I hissed. She resumed crawling forward. We were almost out. A massive block of stone had fallen right next to us, but we had escaped destruction by mils.
We emerged into a large, dark circular chamber that appeared to be cluttered with rubbish. The witch's torch cast spooky shadows over dark stone walls and our helmet lights lit up the scene mercilessly with a brilliant white radiance.
"You guys all right?" the tacnet crackled.
"Nothing to report," I replied. There were little recesses lining the walls like monk's cells, with desks built into the walls and chairs facing inwards. Mute doc readers and piles of books and paper spilled over each desk down to the floor. A ledge just above desk level ran around the room, crowded with the remains of thousands of dead candles. Dirty mounds of encrusted candle wax had oozed down to the floor, and blackened candle stubs littered the floor along with piles of ancient books and papers and what looked like datacards.
I reached down and picked up a book. The characters on the cover were unknown to me. I opened it. It was still in good shape. We'd be able to read it!
"Fingers—what's this one about?"
He peered at it in the brilliant white light of my spot.
"Sorry, Thinker—that's Yahwen. My education was cut short, you'll recall."
"I can read it," the witch volunteered. She drifted over to me and took the book in her slender fingers. "'Death of the Past.' This book mourns the vanished kingdom of Lanai. It's all that's left—just this book. Lanai was…luminous. It blossomed, like a lovely flower, for a brief period. Then it was extinguished, by greed and stupidity. Their race is gone now. It's just a memory."
The witch sighed, and carefully placed the book on a shelf. Then she began touching her torch to a series of primitive oil lamps set in the wall. They lit up fitfully. Dragon looked around the room, totally alert. Trigger stood near the wall, his Manlink up and scanning. Doctor Doom examined a pile of dusty books with Kesan, who glanced at the witch nervously. Fingers was also looking through the books, probably searching for a clue to the location of the treasure.
A deafening boom shook us all violently and I almost jumped out of my skin. The floor trembled. A great cloud of dust shot out of our tunnel and filled the room. Something huge had fallen. Dragon cursed.
"We're cut off," he confirmed. "We won't be going back that way, that's sure."
"It's all right," DD said. "I didn't much like that route anyway."
"She says we're going to die here," Kesan said. The witch was by her side—she had discarded her torch.
"Ask her who's going to kill us," I said.
"Time. She says Father Time is going to kill us."
"Tell her we're immortals. We're not afraid of Father Time. And tell her—if anyone dies, she's going to be the first."
"She knows that."
"Good."
The witch sank to her knees on the hard stone
floor and began chanting quietly to herself.
"She's praying," Kesan said, "for an easy death."
"Guess what," Dragon said. "There's no way out of here."
"Are you serious?"
"Look at your tacmap. There are no exits from this room. The walls are solid stone. You'll notice the comsets are dead. This place appears to be comsealed. That's interesting. It wasn't before. Bring that woman over here."
She stood before him, gazing bravely into his burning eyes.
"What is this room?" Dragon asked.
"It is a reading room. It is also a cleansing room. It is where we kill persistent intruders."
"Is there a way out?"
"Only Father Time can release us. The crawlway has never before been blocked. I do not understand it."
"She can't lie to us," DD said. "It doesn't look good."
"We don't have time for this," I said quietly.
"Time is all we have," the Witch replied, looking around gloomily.
"And are we going to get to meet Father Time?" Dragon asked.
"Yes. He will surely come, and then you will all die."
"When will he come?"
"Soon. Perhaps a hundred winters. Perhaps sooner."
"Take five, guys." Dragon was always confident. The fellow sometimes amazed me.
I sat on one of the creaky old desk chairs, sipping water from my canteen. We had comtops on, but our visors were open. The witch was back on her knees, mumbling to herself. She certainly did remind me of Moontouch, but this one was a lot younger—just a kid. She was incredibly beautiful—smooth flawless skin, gleaming waist-length hair. Only her eyes hinted of the nightmares within.
Kesan was right beside her, watching her suspiciously, whispering to her every once in awhile. Fingers ignored them both, continuing his sporadic search through the crumbling ancient books for a clue to the treasure. Trigger was up against the wall, his Manlink balanced on one hip. He looked like he was just waiting for someone to shoot. DD was trying to get one of those ancient readers to work, but it did not look promising. Dragon was in another chair, totally relaxed, his E across his knees. He always reminded me of a bloodcat, watching the world through predator's eyes, coiled to pounce at the slightest provocation.
We weren't trapped there, of course. With the Manlink alone, we could blast our way out of there—but Dragon had decided to wait. It was fine with me. I knew his patience was limited, and for the witch's sake I hoped whatever he was waiting for would put in an appearance soon.
It did. There was a sputtering cough, and one section of the wall started to spit out a smoky haze. The witch did not move.
"Comtops! Cut the spots!" Our visors slammed shut. My E was at my shoulder. Trigger was ready to cut loose. I jumped as the flickering oil lamps on the wall exploded violently—Dragon snuffed them out with vac blasts, almost deafening us and instantly plunging the room into a total darkness. My darksight cut in, lighting up everything for me in a pale green. Fingers, Kesan and the witch were now blind, but the rest of us could see just fine.
"Chem smoke," DD reported. "It's a smoke grenade. Nothing lethal." A great cloud of blue smoke hissed into the room, obscuring one wall—except that our darksight could see right through the smoke. The room shuddered. A sharp crack, then a dull grinding. A narrow vertical slit appeared in the wall. A great stone door was opening—no. It stopped, partially open. A tall figure appeared from within, struggling to squeeze through the narrow opening.
"Hold your fire," I ordered. The creature forced itself through the opening awkwardly, pausing in the smoke, drawing itself up to an imposing height, a floor-length black cloak swirling around it. I had it right in my sights, and my E was set for auto x-min. One bad move and he'd be shredded meat.
"It is time," the Witch said fearfully.
"Who enters the Domain of the Dead," a powerful voice boomed forth, "and what do ye seek?" It was only a man, I could see, standing tall, cloaked from head to foot—a forbidding figure.
"We seek knowledge," I shouted. "We seek the past."
"You have found the past," the phantom replied, "but lost the future. You have entered a forbidden realm—the Portals of Doom. The God-kings of Padan stir in their graves. You disturb their sleep. Time touches your weary limbs, now. Time brings an end to all things." He raised a spidery arm and gestured grandly.
The smoke hung in the air. It was totally silent. One wrong move and he's history.
"We welcome you," he said, "to the Land of the Lost. Pray to your dark Gods, for you join them now." He gestured again, vigorously, his robes flapping around him. The smoke was fading. The phantom continued standing there, grand and tall.
"Where is the dust?" the witch hissed in Oduran.
The phantom sighed, and seemed to lose a few mils in height. "The dispenser no longer works, child. Just like the door. And the stone blocks. It's all too old. I press the control to release one block, and another falls. It's no use. Nothing works any more. We have lost, my darling. We have lost, at last. I knew this day would come. I pray for your soul."
"Please don't kill him!" the witch shrieked. "He's my father! Please! He's a good man!"
Chapter 9
Father Time
We had dox with Father Time and his lovely daughter. We had no desire to kill him, even if he had done his best to kill us. He was exactly what we were looking for. And who could blame him for defending his realm? We all do what we must do. Hidden demons whisper in our ears, and we are helpless to oppose them. We relit the oil lamps, and popped open the dox and sat on the floor around a disintegrating trunk of books we confiscated for a table.
"That's very good," Father Time said quietly, setting his dox carefully back on the trunk. He was old, I could see. Very old. A mortal, fading away, lines all over his face, his hair all white, his body slowly shutting down, the parts ceasing to renew themselves. How ironic, that Galantor's last guardian, its last, all-powerful wizard, was an old tired mortal, slowly dying of the primitive, terrifying disease of untreated age.
"I am the Guardian," he responded to my question, "and this is my daughter, Blossom."
"And what do you do here, in this building?" Dragon asked. "What is your mission?" Dragon thought in terms of missions. I guess we all did. We were all slaves, of someone. We were all on a mission, seeking death like moths hurling ourselves into an irresistible flame.
"I guard the past. I guard the archives of Imperial Padan. I guard the lost realm of Galantor. The inheritance of the God-Kings is here. The secrets of the ages are here. The knowledge of all the dynasties is here. Everything we have learned since the dawn of time."
"The inheritance!" Fingers broke in. "The treasure! I knew it! Can you take us to the treasure?"
"The inheritance of the dynasties is all around us—and below us," the old man said. "The knowledge of the ages. The history of the world. Everything humans have fought and died and dreamed for. It's all here."
"No, no, I mean the treasure! Gold! Jewels! Diamonds!"
"Treasure?" The Guardian smiled sadly. "Knowledge is our only treasure. Gold? Jewels? No—I don't think so."
"No treasure?" Fingers was stricken.
"Oh, there may be some of that around here somewhere, too," the Guardian added carelessly. "I think I saw a room full of gold once—but I can't remember where. I was not paying attention."
"A room full of gold!" Fingers squealed.
"Guardian, we are not here for gold," I said. "We are here for knowledge. We seek the truth. Have you read this knowledge of the ages you guard? Can you tell us about the past?"
The Guardian smiled—a thin, bitter smile. "Yes, soldier, I can tell you about the Past. The Past is all I have. It is all I have ever had, except for my daughter, Blossom. For ages I have read—about the past. My heart grieves, for all those who went before us, for those brave explorers who cut their way out of the past with the sword of resolve or the torch of knowledge and light. Yes—I know about the past!" He stared straight ahead, focuse
d on nothing. Dragon passed a hand in front of the Guardian's face.
"You're blind," Dragon said.
"Yes." The Guardian smiled again. "A lifetime of reading, by candlelight. Yes, the Guardian is blind. The steward of the past, the world's last reader, is blind. Blossom is my eyes. She reads for me now. I will die soon, and she will inherit the past. Then the weight of the ages will be on her. Perhaps I should burn it all before I go. What good is all this knowledge? No one reads it—only us. Why should I let my lovely daughter inherit this monstrous curse?"
"I will guard it to my death," Blossom said quietly.
"Don't question the value of this knowledge," I said. "We seek information that will save the lives of millions—maybe billions. We've come from half way across the galaxy on our quest."
"Star travellers!" the old man exclaimed. "Remarkable. We have not been visited…in countless generations. Where do you come from?"
"We are from ConFree—the Confederation of Free Worlds."
"Con Free. Free worlds! I won't ask what they are free from. And what is it you want to know?"
"Over a hundred thousand of your years ago," I said, "there was an age when your planet—Odura—had contacts with civilizations on other worlds. Even then, your historians were recording everything. Isn't that true?"
"That was the First Dynasty. It was founded by star travellers fleeing the Empire of the Black Sun. They were mighty warriors. They made their stand here, allied with the K'tak and other worlds, and drove the Empire from the Sector. The Empire was never to return. Yes—they founded a world state. Their star fleets explored the Cosmos, and their historians recorded it all."
"The Empire of the Black Sun. Who were they?"
"Humans. A great galactic empire. Brilliant, fierce, gifted—they ruled the entire known galaxy."
"What happened to them?"
"Gone. Vanished. Dissolved in the dusts of time."
"And the K'tac. Who were they?"
"Aliens. Psychics of enormous power. Irresistible. Fleeing some nameless disaster, they paused here, briefly, then moved on. And out of history."
"The O's!" I exclaimed. My skin crawled. We were getting closer. I could feel it!
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