No Other Love

by Speer, Flora

  Merin could think of no response to this confession. She doubted that even Dulan could do anything to help Saray. The two women stood linked together by their mutual contact with the Chon, each leaning upon it, each drawing strength from the great bird. As the minutes passed, Merin became aware of the energy vibrating between the bird and Saray. With a start she realized what was happening. In her intense interest in what Saray was telling her, Merin had almost forgotten that the Chon had telepathic power as well as intelligence. Now it seemed to her that the bird was not only lending physical strength to Saray, but in addition it was feeding telepathic energy to her. Merin, with no telepathic power of her own, could not partake of this generous offering, but for her, physical fortification was enough.

  “I will do whatever I can for you,” Saray said at last in a much firmer voice than before. “Return to Dulan’s house and wait for me. Tell Herne to wait, too.”

  * * * * *

  It was late evening before Saray appeared, looking fragile but triumphant.

  “Ananka will see you at sunrise,” she said.

  “It’s about time.” Herne glared at her. “You have been hiding from me.”

  “I will conceal myself no longer,” Saray said, taking a seat. “Dulan, may I stay with you until morning? I don’t want to see Hotan just now, and my house is far away.”

  “You can sleep in the guestroom with Merin,” Herne said before Dulan could answer. “I’ll sit up here. I won’t be able to sleep.”

  Nor did Merin or Saray sleep, though they dutifully retired to the guest chamber and lay down on the bed. In spite of having eaten heartily during the evening, throughout that long night Merin could feel her strength seeping steadily away. With every hour that passed she was weaker, and she knew that no food in Tathan could adequately fill her empty stomach. When Herne knocked on the door, calling out that it was nearly daylight, Saray had to help her to stand, and it took all of her strength to pull on her boots and adjust her coif. She slung her useless recorder over her shoulder, then picked up her own kit along with Herne’s, which she gave to him when they met in the sitting room.

  “In case we are able to go home at once,” she said, trying to smile at him, “we ought to have all of our gear with us.”

  “Your hand-weapons, too,” Dulan said, returning them. “I know now that you would only use them in self-defense.”

  Herne looked as sick as Merin felt, but he stood resolutely upright and followed Saray toward the garden with determined if slightly wavering steps. Dulan walked beside him as if to lend support. In the grey light of early dawn they found the green Chon waiting for them among the bushes and white flowers.

  “Well?” Herne demanded with a touch of his old energy. “Where is she? Where is the entrance to her grotto?”

  “Ananka will appear when she is ready,” said Saray.

  “We can’t stand here all day,” Herne objected, swaying a little.

  The Chon cocked its head and made a soft clucking sound. The rear garden wall disappeared in a blaze of light. As the light faded, Ananka stood before them.

  Chapter 16

  For this appearance, Ananka had once again assumed her image of Merin’s face and body, but still with light brown hair. Her golden cloak swirled above her white gown, and a few locks of hair rippled as if a breeze blew, though the air in the garden did not stir.

  “Herne,” Ananka said, “I knew you would come to me.”

  “Come to you?” Herne exploded. “We have been trying to find you for days. What in the name of all the stars do you think you are doing to us? Are you deliberately trying to kill us? And if so, why? We’ve never done you any harm.”

  “I need you,” Ananka said. “I need your love.”

  “Well this is no way to get it.” Herne was weaving on his feet, trying to stay upright.

  “You are ill,” Ananka said with a look of pained surprise.

  “Ill?” he shouted at her, unable to contain his rage. “We are dying because of you and this deluded telepath you’ve been using for your cursed experiments.”

  “You should not be ill,” Ananka insisted.

  “They should not be here,” Dulan said. “Wicked creature, you have forced them into the wrong time and it is killing them.”

  “I want to know why you’ve done this to us,” Herne declared. “Why me? Why Merin?”

  “I also want to understand your motives,” Dulan said, “because this kind of interference in the lives of others is prohibited by telepaths.”

  “It was not forbidden to Saray,” sneered Ananka.

  “Yes, it was, and I am deeply at fault here.” Saray stood before Ananka with clenched fists, looking as angry as Herne at his most fierce. “Moving simple objects through space and time was questionable enough, considering the disruptions such acts can cause. Moving simple, living creatures was worse still. Moving intelligent life forms was immoral beyond all forgiveness. And I helped you!” Saray’s last sentence was a cry of self-reproach.

  “It was only an experiment,” Ananka protested, shrugging her shoulders and laughing.

  “If you were as all-powerful as you would have us believe, instead of a foolish and mischievous spirit,” said Dulan, “then you would need no explanation of something so simple as the moral obligation to use your power responsibly, to do no harm with it.”

  “You can discuss ethics later.” Herne cut across Dulan’s measured words with angry abruptness. “Now that we are all together, Ananka, I want to know who or what you are, and what you intend to do with us. Make your explanation fast and basic; we don’t have much time.”

  “I recall a night when I found your impatience charming,” Ananka said, smiling at him until he took a step toward her. When she saw by his frozen face and menacing posture that he meant to have some answers, she sighed dramatically. “Very well, since you insist, I will explain. I am one of an ancient race of entities who journeyed to this world eons before insignificant creatures like you came into existence. There were hundreds of us then. We were happy and confident in our strength because we had brought with us lesser beings who ministered to our needs and respectfully honored our great powers. But as time passed the race of servants died, until there was no one left here but ourselves. It was then we learned we are not immortal. Deprived of the close relationship we had once enjoyed with our servants, my kind began to weaken, and one by one we ceased to exist. There were but three of us left on this world when the ones with open minds settled here.”

  “The telepaths,” Herne murmured.

  “They treated us with respect,” said Ananka, “and in the beginning their presence renewed our hope, for we saw in them a new race of servants. But the telepaths have proven to be uncontrollably independent of mind and remarkably diverse in their attitudes toward superior beings. Only a few of them, young rebels all, have shown any willingness to honor me as I should be honored. I had begun to fear for my own life when you and your friends arrived at Tathan.

  “Long, long ago, on another world,” Ananka said, looking at Herne with a wistful expression, “there was a Herne who served me well. I thought one with the same name would serve again, and I knew from your careless thoughts when first I saw you that you were curious about Merin. I decided to separate the two of you from your close companions in order to discover if you would dare to make your idle dreams come true. You have become lovers, as I hoped you would. Now you will settle here among the telepaths, to breed and increase in numbers. Your descendants will provide me with the servants I require.”

  “You want worshippers,” Merin said. “You want to become a goddess.”

  “In another part of the galaxy, before you humans existed,” Ananka replied, “I was a goddess, and a great one. So I will be again, before many more centuries have passed.”

  “You haven’t been listening to us. We won’t live long enough to provide you with worshippers. We are dying,” Merin cried, but Herne stopped her despairing words.

  “It is obvious f
rom your talk about the future,” he said to Ananka, “that I hold a piece of vital information you don’t have yet.”

  “Really?” Ananka looked at him doubtfully.

  “I’ll make a bargain with you,” Herne offered. “Send Merin and me home and I’ll tell you what I know.”

  “There is no need for a goddess to bargain with lowly beings like you,” Ananka said with regal scorn. “I will simply take your knowledge from your mind.”

  “You will not! You have done enough harm. You have used me and my abilities most shamefully. I will help you no longer.” Saray moved to stand next to Herne. She placed one hand on his shoulder at the same time that Dulan placed a hand on Merin’s shoulder. Behind them, the green Chon moved closer, spreading its wings. A humming sound filled the air, while a vibrating shimmer rose like a barrier between the little group and Ananka, who began to fade into near transparency.

  “Stop!” Ananka had become almost invisible. “Stop that infernal noise. I won’t hurt anyone. I will listen to your bargain.”

  The humming stopped. The shimmering barrier vanished. Ananka became substantial once more.

  “It’s that vile bird,” she said. “My kind never could master them.”

  Merin was oddly invigorated by what had just happened. Believing that the bird had again transmitted some of its strength to her as it had done on the previous day, she glanced at Herne to see if he had been similarly affected. She was glad to see that he looked much healthier, too. The wan, taut look was gone from his face and he stood more easily, as though the mere act of keeping himself upright was no longer a test of his will. Merin straightened her shoulders and faced the would-be goddess with new hope.

  “You have made a promise,” Dulan reminded Ananka.

  “Only to listen, not necessarily to agree to what is proposed,” Ananka responded, smirking.

  “Throughout history, goddesses were always capricious, and frequently treacherous,” Merin noted.

  “She’s a poor creature for a goddess,” Herne said, his eyes on Ananka. “She’s just a peculiar entity with specific but limited powers. She may be an alien to us, and unimaginably long-lived, but she’s not supernatural. If she were, the Chon would have no power over her.”

  “Excellent,” said Dulan. “You learn quickly, Herne.”

  “Ananka,” Herne said, “I want to know exactly how you brought us here. I very much doubt if you are capable of creating the solar storms.”

  “But I could take advantage of the electromagnetic changes the storms caused,” Ananka said with undisguised pride in her achievement.

  “Then you can use the same electromagnetic changes to return us,” Herne said. “You can send us back to a moment when we were still aboard the Kalina.”

  “I could,” Ananka told him, “but I don’t want to.”

  “Listen to Herne voluntarily,” said Dulan, “or the bird and I will force you to listen. The secret Herne would tell you is all-important, to you and to the people of Tathan.”

  “You know what it is?” Herne stared at Dulan in amazement.

  “Dulan learned the secret yesterday, when our thoughts merged,” said Merin. “Ananka,

  You must promise to send us home.”

  “It seems I have little choice,” said Ananka ruefully, looking at the Chon.

  “Swear to it,” Dulan insisted.

  “If I swear a lie, how will you know it after your friends have disappeared?” asked Ananka.

  “I will know. The Chon will tell me,” said Dulan, the words making Ananka take a deep, gasping breath.

  “I swear,” she said, looking frightened.

  “Tathan will be attacked,” Herne said, not wasting any more time or words. “We don’t know the exact date, but in our own time there is a record in Dulan’s own hand, of Cetans destroying the city a century after its founding. Since the settlement is one hundred years old, it follows that the attack will come soon.”

  “All will die?” That was Saray, her face white with shock. “Every telepath dies on that day?”

  “I have read Dulan’s record several times,” Merin said. “We know from it that twelve telepaths made their way safely to the island retreat at Lake Rhyadur, where they lived out their natural lives in peace. From my friend Osiyar, I have learned of another group of telepaths who escaped into the forest and later founded a village beside the sea in the northeastern part of this continent.”

  “Where one of my kind lives,” put in Ananka.

  “I believe so,” said Merin, “for Osiyar spoke of a mysterious entity, who lived in a sacred grove.”

  “She was properly worshiped, no doubt,” snapped Ananka.

  “You will not be forgotten. Six hundred years in the future, Osiyar knew your name.”

  “I suppose I shall have to be content with that.” Ananka did not sound at all content.

  “It’s more than you deserve,” said Dulan.

  “Herne, you could still stay with me,” Ananka coaxed. “I will protect you from the Cetans, and I’ll show you pleasures beyond human knowing.”

  “Since I am only a human, how could I know them?” asked Herne with remarkable patience for him. “Thank you, but I want to go home. Send both of us back.”

  “I wish I hadn’t promised.” Ananka sighed. “You remind me so much of that earlier Herne. He was stubborn, too. Very well, then. When do you want to leave?”

  “Now,” said Herne. “Just tell us what to do.”

  “Return to the little ship in which you arrived. You will find that the engines will start. Rise into the air, hover over Tathan and I will do the rest.”

  “There are to be no tricks,” Dulan warned, and Ananka sighed again.

  “No tricks, Dulan, I promise.” But then she smiled with a sweetly poisonous glance at Herne.

  “No,” cried Saray. “We must tell them everything, Ananka. How cruel you are! I can’t believe I ever thought you were my friend. Merin, Herne, once you have returned to your own time you will remember nothing of what has happened while you were in Tathan. In your time, only a few moments will have elapsed. There, the last four days have not happened.”

  “But we have made friends here,” Merin protested. “You, Saray. Tula. And most of all, Dulan. Oh, my dear, dear friend Dulan. I don’t ever want to forget you and all you have given to my heart and my spirit. I don’t want to forget any of you.”

  “Stay and remember,” said Ananka lightly, “or go and forget. The choice is yours. By the way, once the change is made, they won’t remember you, either, and you will no longer be aware of what you now feel for Herne. Nor will he remember his passion for you. It will be as though you never were in Tathan.”

  “Dulan. Saray.” Merin put out a hand to each of them.

  “If it is truly love you feel for Herne, and he for you,” Dulan said, understanding her deepest grief, “then your hearts will remember and find a way to join again. As for our friendship, it will endure through the centuries that separate us. I know it, and you know it, too.”

  “You ought to leave Tathan at once,” Herne suggested to Dulan. “Warn Tula, take Saray with you, and start for Rhyadur.”

  “And what are we to do,” asked Dulan, “when you are gone and we suddenly cannot remember why we are headed northward? No, we must remain here until the moment is right.”

  “I will not go to Rhyadur,” Saray said. I must atone for my crimes. Because of my close association with Ananka, I will remember what has happened. When the attack comes, Hotan and I will lead the resistance against the Cetans. It is a role Hotan will relish, and I, at least, can be by his side until the end comes.”

  “You will die,” said Ananka, sounding surprised at Saray’s decision.

  “So be it,” Saray replied calmly.

  “You are all mad,” Ananka told them. “I don’t think I want to be worshiped by your kind, after all.”

  “It’s just as well,” Herne told her, “since you aren’t really a goddess.”

  “Still, I ca
n see, where you are blind,” Ananka replied, laughing. “What is the past for you remains the future for me. Time moves in its endless loops, and we will meet again for the first time, Herne. You will find me in the grotto.”

  “We will go now,” Herne said, not responding to Ananka’s brazen invitation. “Dulan, thank you for everything you have done for us. Tell Tula I thank him, too, and I’m sorry I was rude to him yesterday.”

  “Tell him so yourself,” said Dulan. “Here he is, and Jidak and Imra with him.”

  “Your mate has returned,” Tula told Dulan, “and is waiting for you in the computer room, where it is safe.”

  “There isss no sssafety,” hissed Imra, her pale, triangular eyes darting around the garden. “All isss lost.”

  “As you suggested yesterday, Dulan,” Jidak added, “we have been monitoring the computer’s scanning device, set on its longest range. A Cetan ship has just moved into orbit. It won’t take them long to send out shuttlecraft, nor to locate Tathan.”

  “No doubt they already know of our presence,” Dulan said with remarkable calmness. “We know what they will want.”

  “Pillage, rape, murder, bloodshed.” Imra stalked toward Ananka with the swift, smooth movements of her reptilian kind. “Isss thisss the entity called Ananka? Will you help us defend our city?”

  “I think you will find,” Herne told Imra, “that if she gives you any aid at all, she will expect you to worship her in return.”

  “Styxians have their own gods,” Imra told Ananka. “And I would not revere an entity that deliberately harms others.”

  “Nor would I accept the worship of an insect-eating lizard,” returned Ananka with great contempt. “Don’t speak to me of hurting others.”

  “Don’t make her too angry,” Herne warned. “She has promised to send Merin and me back where we belong, and we don’t want her to change her mind.”