Eye of the Comet (14 page)

“You don’t frighten me, Nenla. You and my cousin Kal have grown separate from us for a long time. You’ll only die with them.”

Lydee’s hands were fists; she kept them at her sides, longing to strike out at Silla. Many people could die in a battle; others might join in. A few were already gathering outside the nearest huts, waiting to see what would happen; if the villagers lashed out at one another during the fray, even the Merging Selves might be unable to stop it.

“I won’t fight you,” Lydee said, feeling as if the words were being torn from her. “If you’ve come for me, then try to take me. But leave the others alone. Reiho’s done nothing, and won’t act against you. Take me if you want, but leave him.”

“No,” Reiho said. “I’ll stand with you, Lydee.”

  — We must fight — Marellon thought. Lydee shook her head. — You can’t just give in —

“We’ll be merciful,” Silla said. “If you don’t fight, we’ll give you a quick and gentle death. You won’t suffer.” Lydee sensed the impatience of those around Silla.

Reiho came to Lydee’s side. “It’s over,” he muttered in their own tongue. “We can’t fight them alone, and we can’t let others risk their lives on our account.” His jaw tightened. “At least we won’t have to struggle with these ignorant fools and their cursed ways.”

She took his hand. Anger welled up inside her; she was afraid that if she released it, her rage would wash over the village in a boiling torrent. Turning toward Marellon, she said, “You must promise me not to fight. This isn’t your battle. You mustn’t die because of me.”

  — But — the boy began to object.

“Swear that you won’t, all of you. Swear it by that God of yours. I don’t want such a thing on my conscience. You think your God is merciful to those who do the right thing. Maybe your deity will even accept an unbeliever if her actions spare others.” She tried to give the words some conviction.

“Then we won’t act, if that is what you wish.” Marellon’s brown eyes glistened; Luret was choking back tears.

Do they actually care for me so much? Lydee asked herself. Have I grown to love them? She supposed that she had in her own way, but her emotions still seemed pallid next to theirs. Luret’s warm feelings of friendship could bind one tightly; Marellon’s restrained desire often made him seem feverish. She could offer them compassion and some understanding; she had little else to give. No, that was not quite right; she would be giving her life, and maybe that would make up for what she could not offer. Her anger faded, replaced by a cold determination.

“Swear that none of you will try to help me no matter what happens,” Lydee said.

  — We swear — Marellon thought; the words throbbed with pain. Nenla stared at the ground as Kal’s arm encircled her. Daiya rested her head against her pole.

Still clutching Reiho’s hand, Lydee faced Silla. “Take us, then,” she said firmly. “But don’t expect it to be easy. I’ll resist you, and if I die, you’ll feel every moment of my death with me.”

Wiland backed away. — I’ll have no part of this — the young man thought. — If she had wanted to bring evil to the village, she would have allowed her friends there to fling themselves upon us and watched as we destroyed ourselves —

“Fool!” Silla shouted. “I’ll fight them even if I must do it alone.”

Lydee had her mental shield up before Silla could strike; it trembled under the crowd’s assault. Her link burned. She fortified her shield and drew closer to Reiho’s mind. If she bore the brunt of the crowd’s blows, she might be able to drain their strength and spare her mentor.

  — No — Reiho was thinking as he built a wall around her. — Let me save you —

  — Don’t fight me now — Her wall was weakening; she drew more power, wondering how long she could hold out. Silla’s mind howled; needles pricked Lydee’s nerves. A beast, as black as space, began to take shape in the road; its red eyes glowed as claws formed under its shapeless body. Each claw was a villager’s mind, ready to rend and tear. Lydee cried out at the sight; her fear was cracking her wall. Another mind touched hers; Wiland was trying to fortify her wall, and she remembered that he had not sworn an oath with the others. She thrust his mind away.

The creature isn’t really there, she told herself. The beast flickered for a moment, then roared. The sound was a blow; Lydee fell to the ground. Reiho was kneeling, hands on his ears as he buttressed his wall.

The beast undulated toward her, rearing as it struck; a claw slashed her. Lydee clutched her chest; her hand was wet. Blood oozed from a wound near her ribs, staining her tunic as the beast reached inside her, squeezing her heart and lungs. The crowd was winning; they had wounded her by turning her mind’s strength against her. At that thought, her wall collapsed. She struggled for breath.

  — Stop — a man’s mind cried.

The beast disappeared. Lydee gasped; her heart was racing. Reiho’s thoughts enclosed her as he tried to stanch the flow of blood.

  — Stop. What are you doing? — Harel was running toward his partner. A whip of light flashed out from the crowd, striking Harel and knocking him to the ground.

“Stop,” Harel cried aloud.

Lydee gathered the shards of her fractured mind. Harel threw up his hands as the whip danced over his shoulders; Wiland was trying to shield him. Lydee formed a mental blade; before she could stop herself, the blade slashed toward Silla.

The woman was suddenly in the air, screaming as she flew toward a hut. She crashed against the bricks and slid to the ground as Lydee watched, horrified at what she had done to Silla. The crowd was still, its walls up; one man covered his face.

Lydee struggled to her feet and stumbled toward Silla, unable to sense her sister’s thoughts. The crowd parted, letting her pass. She had meant only to save Harel. Now I’ve killed, she thought; now I’m a murderer.

  — Murderer — the crowd echoed with the beast’s voice.

“Silence!” Harel shouted, walling them in with Wiland’s aid; a few turned away, abandoning the battle.

Lydee dropped next to Silla, reaching out with a mental strand. Her sister’s mind was failing. She clung to the wispy thoughts as they threatened to escape her grasp, then thrust her mind inside Silla’s.

She was in a long, dark tunnel, being pulled rapidly toward a speck of light; Silla was dying. Her speed increased, the light drawing her on even as Lydee tried to pull back. Silla was not even trying to live.

  — Leave me — a voice said feebly.

  — I won’t let you die — Lydee’s mind answered. — I won’t let you go — With all her strength, she resisted, holding Silla’s fading thoughts as tightly as she could. The distant light was growing larger; only a thin thread still bound Lydee to her own body. Silla would claim her life after all.

Lydee held on as darkness swept over her and drowned her mind.

* * *

She blinked. A dark shape loomed over her, outlined by the blue sky; it dropped to her side, and she made out Marellon’s face. Luret was next to him, eyes wide with concern; Wiland stood behind her.

Lydee groaned, then felt her chest. The bleeding had stopped; she could not find her wound. Marellon eased her up with one strong arm. Her head swam as she leaned against him.

  — Silla — she thought, barely able to project the name. “I didn’t mean to.”

  — Silla’s alive — the boy answered, propping her up against the wall of the hut. At her right, she now saw, Harel and Kal were ministering to Silla, wiping her brow. — She’s weak — Marellon continued, — and some bones are broken, but you brought her back. She’ll be well —

“I tried to kill her.”

  — You didn’t mean to. Even Silla will see that. And you could have let her die, but you didn’t —

The crowd had dispersed. Harel and Kal lifted Silla gently and carried her toward Kal’s hut, supporting her outstretched body with their minds. Daiya and Nenla followed them inside. Reiho watched them, then came over to Lydee.

“Maybe I should have let her die,” she said harshly as her mentor sat down. “She’ll probably curse me for saving her.” She lowered her head, appalled at her words. “Listen to me. Now I’ve wished for another’s death. This world has made a savage of me.”

  — No — Marellon thought, nudging her gently with his mind. — You spared one who wanted your death and struck her only to save another —

  — You have shown me my mistake — Wiland said, lowering his lids over his dark eyes. — You offered your own life for Luret’s. I’m still afraid to reach out to you, for your mind feels cold and strange, but at least now I am restored to the one who loves me. We’ll share what little time is left —

“You are truly my friends,” Lydee said. “I don’t know if my friends on the Wanderer would have offered to defend me as you did.”

Marellon’s head drooped. — You may be saying that only because you may never see your home again —

Reiho stood up, shading his eyes as he gazed out at the field. His mouth dropped open. “What is that?” he asked, pointing. Luret rose, covering a cheek with one hand. “Out there. Do you see?” His voice broke on the last word as his fear chilled the air.

Marellon helped Lydee to her feet. Beyond the field, small, dark shapes moved on the plain’s horizon. She squinted, trying to focus. A long line of people was moving toward them. Many rode in carts; others were leading horses weighed down with sacks and bags.

Lydee hung on to Marellon’s arm. “Other Earthfolk,” she said, picking up the boy’s thoughts. “They’re coming for us. They’ve come for us at last.”

12

Thousands of Earthfolk had converged on the village, setting up camp outside the force field. To the south, east, and north, encampments bordered the fields; in the west, another group had dug in on the other side of the river.

Their tents had become sails lifting in the wind as the invaders began to pitch them; then they had turned into birds fluttering large wings. Soon, a field of tents had covered the land, some of them elaborate and colorful pavilions of cloth, others little more than hides held up by poles. Riders on horseback, clothed in leather leggings and vests, rode at the edges of the fields; the legs of their mounts were hidden by clouds of dust. People in loincloths and beads had formed a line to the south and were carrying water from the river in buckets. The village was under seige.

  — They’ll win — Lydee said to Marellon as they walked along the village’s perimeter, gazing out at the invaders; already the Earthfolk were harvesting what was left in the fields. — They’ve come to watch us die —

  — Their food might give out before ours —

  — I don’t think so — Reiho said from behind them; he was walking with Luret and Wiland. — All they need to do is wait until we’re weak and can’t fight. If they need more food, they can send out hunting parties, and the river will provide water. They can wait and then take us with little risk to themselves —

They came to the riverbank and leaned against the force field, staring at the opposite shore. Several small children were splashing in the shallows, as if the seige were only an outing and a chance to play. Adults lingered near the young ones, gazing suspiciously toward the village. Wiland made a fist with his right hand and struck his left palm.

The atmosphere of the village had changed after the shock and dismay of seeing its enemies approach had passed. The sullenness, passivity, and despair had been dispelled, replaced by a nervous anxiety and even some anticipation of a last battle. The waiting was over. Other villagers were gathering along the wall, watching to see what would happen now.

The Earthfolk had been arriving all day. Lydee supposed that, in the distance, others were still arriving. It seemed as if all Earth was coming to pass judgment, though that couldn’t be possible; those on other continents would not have been able to make the journey. It hardly mattered. Those far away had probably linked their thoughts in a long chain connecting them to those outside in order to witness the battle; the village would face the combined force of thousands of minds. It would not be a battle but a slaughter.

  — Daiya still believes we’ll be saved — Luret thought.

  — Daiya is wrong — Lydee replied.

  — You’re not frightened —

Lydee shook her head. — No, I’m not. It seems easier to be frightened when you think there’s something you can do. It’s out of our hands now — She glanced at Reiho, whose fear had crystallized; it was turning his mind into a glassy network of ice that she could barely stand to touch.

  — Perhaps the Minds will help us now — Luret said.

  — The Minds — Wiland responded. — The Minds might have kept them away in the first place, yet They did nothing —

Lydee walked toward a field, gazing out across the meadow to the hill where Daiya’s old hut still stood. Earthfolk on blankets perched along the slopes, and she noticed that the shuttle had been dragged toward the meadow. A few people were running their hands over its sides; a door opened and they jumped away, pointing and waving their hands. The door closed. Several gray-haired people eyed the shuttle from a distance; one was shaking his head. Had they known how to work the synthesizer, they could have supplied themselves with food indefinitely while waiting for the villagers to die.

  — Now they’ll know that someone unlike them is here — Lydee said to the others, suppressing the rest of her thoughts. That alone would be enough to condemn the village.

* * *

At dusk, the villagers began to carry their tables out of their huts, setting them up in a circle just inside the invisible wall. Torches were lighted and planted in the ground as the village prepared for its last feast. Spits holding the bodies of pigs and fowl turned as minds directed the heat at the roasting meat.

  — Bring the food — Cerwen ordered, and men and women carried platters to the tables. — Bring the wine. Let those outside see that we are ready to welcome our fate — His thoughts and those of the other Merging Selves were serene. The villagers had always held feasts before sending their young people out to face their ordeals; it had seemed only proper that they should celebrate before undergoing this last ordeal. No one had objected to Cerwen’s proposal. They would have their feast and die unafraid instead of wasting away in front of their enemies.

Lydee sat at one table, trying to ignore the odor of meat. The villagers had slaughtered the animals gently, careful not to cause pain, yet each death had seemed a precursor of the human deaths that would soon follow. Lydee and Reiho, sickened, had been forced to keep up their walls. Two of the village cats crouched at her feet, snarling at each other over a piece of meat on the ground.

The field outside the wall was reddened by the setting sun. A few fires burned in the encampment; men and women stood at the edge of the field, watching the village. She lifted her head defiantly, then turned toward Reiho, who was seated at her left. He nibbled at a few grapes while eyeing his wine cup dubiously.

  — Drink it — she said. — You needn’t worry about it making you sick now — He grimaced. — I wish I could believe what the Earthpeople do — she continued.

Reiho sipped his wine. — I’m glad now that I don’t believe such things. I don’t have to fear punishment, and I won’t be rewarded. There’s only the darkness. If you look at it that way, it’s almost comforting. At least we won’t have to struggle on. I can always hope that somehow our friends on the Wanderer will learn from what’s happened here —

  — What could they possibly learn from this? That people are capable of killing others who seem different, or who doubt? That doesn’t seem much of a lesson —

  — Perhaps they’ll learn that life isn’t something to be wasted and frittered away. We have everything we want. These people have almost nothing, and yet their lives have a purpose. They see death all the time, and maybe that heightens the few joys they do have. We keep real life, along with death, at a distance — He paused, collecting his thoughts. — The cometdwellers are in part responsible for what’s happened here. We rejected our past and forgot, just as the people here did. We hid from Earth. We might have come back sooner. If we had —

  — Might — Daiya interrupted. — If. Those words have such power for you. You pick at them and think they’ll reveal some secret — She was sitting across from them, devouring a meat pie with grim determination. — I refuse to accept death until the moment comes. Until then, I’ll hope, and so should you —

  — We’ll feast — Kal said, reaching for a corn cake. — Tomorrow, we’ll hurl our minds at the wall, and as we weaken, we’ll die. And even if we manage to open it, those outside will strike us down. That’s all that can happen, cousin. This is our last night in this life —

Daiya finished her pie and took a sip of wine. — They could have destroyed us from a distance — she said. — They didn’t have to come here and wait outside — She glanced at Marellon as he set a bowl of fruit on the table and sat down at Lydee’s right. — I’ve been watching them. We can’t touch their minds, and yet I feel as though I have. I think they’re afraid —

  — How can they fear us? — Luret asked as Nenla handed her a bowl of soup.

  — Maybe they have their own doubts — Daiya reached for a peach. — Maybe they disagree. They put up a wall, but did not strike. They enclosed us here, but did not crush us. Now they have seen that vessel outside, and they must know that none of us could have built it. And they do not know what powers our visitors might have —

Lydee nibbled at a carrot. She was eating without tasting the food; her throat tightened as she swallowed.

Daiya still hoped. Her face brightened, as if a light were shining inside her. A tendril other mind brushed against Lydee; Lydee reached out to Reiho. Soon those at the table were linked in a chain touching all of the villagers. Nenla gazed out at the encampment and laughed, throwing her head back. A blond young man at the next table lifted his cup; his mind was filled with chants and prayers. The wine had gone to Lydee’s head; she wondered if she was sensing her own drunkenness or someone else’s.

  — I could leave this world willingly — Silla was saying, — if I knew you cared for me — She was sitting with Harel at one end of the table, her head bound by a cloth. Her right arm was in a sling; her injured leg, dressed in a splint, rested on her partner’s lap. — But I know Daiya still draws you —

Harel shook his head. — What I love in you is what I love in her. How can I separate those feelings? I’ve never betrayed you, Silla, and neither has she. I was wrong to hide part of myself from you — He leaned closer to her, weaving their minds together as he tried to help his partner heal more quickly.

Lydee withdrew, walling herself in for a moment. Their resolutions, she thought cynically, would never be tested, so it was easy to make promises. These people drew together only for death; if rescue were suddenly offered to them, they would resume their bickering before long. Even Reiho had fallen under the spell, hoping to find a purpose in his approaching extinction. She no longer felt the hope Daiya had conveyed. Reaching for her cup, she emptied it and poured herself more wine.

Nenla and Kal leaned against each other. Luret had left the table and was communing with Wiland, who turned toward Lydee. — The Merged One might accept your soul — he thought gently. — We may be blessed, for we only tried to do what was right. The coming ordeal will purge us of sin and prepare us for the next life — He scowled. — And those outside will be punished for their crime —

  — No, Wiland — Luret said as she took his arm. — You must not wish for that —

Lydee finished a piece of bread, then got up and walked toward the force field. The sun had set; fires flickered in the encampment. A family to her right was dancing, arms linked as they hummed a wordless song. Other villagers were entering huts.

  — Lydee — Marellon was approaching her; she turned to face him. — I must ask you this now, because there is not much time left — His mind was drawn tight, a string about to break. She waited. He looked down, poking at the ground with his toes.

  — Ask me anything you like — she said, trying to ease his embarrassment.

  — Will you be my partner? — The words tumbled from his mind. — I’ll ask for nothing of you except the pledge —

Her mind swelled; she took a breath. Her joy had disoriented her; she had nearly agreed. — Marellon — She tried to collect her thoughts.

  — You have grown to feel something for me. I see it now —

She could not deny it. — This is new for me — she responded. — I don’t know how to answer you. If we die, we cannot be partners. If we live, I may not be able to keep the promise — Even though she had tried to mute her thoughts, she sensed his pain and regretted the answer.

  — I’ll pledge myself to you, then — he said. — You may do as you wish, but I’ll have no other partner —

  — You’re young, Marellon. Your feelings run high and you believe that now, but later you would forget me and find another partner, and you would wonder at your impulsiveness. Don’t promise yourself to me only to find that you must break the promise later —

  — You seem to think we’ll live —

  — No. I don’t know. We skydwellers are so used to thinking of death as something we choose, something that won’t often come upon us against our will —

  — If you live, you’ll go back to your world —

She looked up at the comet. — Yes. But I won’t forget you —

  — You will. Earth will seem very far away —

She took his arm. — How foolish we are, Marellon. We’re arguing about something that will never come to pass, most likely — They walked alongside the wall. Their enemies, who should have been celebrating their approaching victory, were hiding in their tents while the doomed village danced and sang.

She thought of Home. Would her friends there mourn her? Homesmind would quickly ease their sorrow. When the cometdwellers learned of her fate, and Reiho’s, they would reject the mindpowers Homesmind could give them. She could already hear the arguments. Such abilities would shatter the customs that had kept their world peaceful; with their inner feelings so open to others, the cometdwellers might even come to fight one another as the Earthfolk had. Her short life, and Reiho’s, would be no more than a ripple in the sea, altering nothing.

Marellon stopped and took her gently by the elbows. Half of his face was shadowed, the other half lighted by a nearby torch. — It isn’t true — he thought. — You’ve changed me. I once looked at you with loathing, seeing one alien to me, but now I can touch your mind and know you for what you are. Daiya has her lost sister back, and Silla and Harel have healed themselves —

  — That is nothing. I touched a few small lives, and my own has changed, and it’ll come to nothing when we die —

  — You’re wrong, Lydee. Touching other lives during the short time we have — why, it’s all we’ve ever had, isn’t it? —

She gazed into his eyes. His face had changed; his features seemed finer. Perhaps his face had always looked that way, brave and intelligent instead of hard and coarse, and she had simply been unable to see it.

  — I’ll make a pledge, Marellon. But I make it only until we meet our fate. If we live, I won’t hold you to it. It would be easy for me to say that I would be your partner always, but it would be a false promise, and you would know that. I can’t die with a lie between us —

  — Then that is what I’ll promise you, Lydee. Even that’s more than you’re accustomed to giving —

  — Let’s go inside —

His mind warmed as he read her intention. Together, they walked back to his sister’s hut.

* * *

Lydee opened her eyes. Marellon slept at her side. They were still alone; she supposed that the others were saying farewell to friends.