Wielding a Red Sword (39 page)

There was no problem about leaving Hell; Satan was eager to facilitate his departure. The capsule that had enclosed Ligeia descended from the sky, and Mym stepped into it. The capsule rose swiftly and soon was back in the palace of frozen mist. It came to rest exactly where it had been.

Mym got off the bed and stepped out, finding the ice now pervious. He walked to his unconscious body and phased in.

He found himself cold and stiff, despite the protective cloak. Apparently what he had worn in Hell had been only a spirit cloak. He climbed to his feet and stretched. He looked back at the bed, remembering Ligeia. If only there had been some way …

No point in torturing himself. He turned resolutely and walked out through the ice-passages to the broken entrance. He stepped out. Then he touched the Red Sword and willed himself back to the Castle of War.

The personnel of the Castle greeted him as if his absence had been routine, but Mym knew that the mortal world had not halted in place during the past few days. Satan had wanted him out of the mortal picture, had taken
trouble to keep him in Hell as long as possible, and perhaps had paid more of a price than intended. What had Satan been up to on Earth?

He knew one way to find out. He turned on the television set. Its news always related to Mars.

“All hell is breaking loose on Earth,” the announcer said. “There has never been a period of greater unrest, short of all-out war. The mysterious absence of Mars, the Incarnation of War, has contributed to the general confusion. Exactly who is managing this violence?”

Satan was, surely. But what was his purpose? Certainly increasing violence in the world would not deprive Mars of his power; it would enhance it.

Yet Satan had tried to make a deal with him before to facilitate just such unrest, because it would generate the problems of war, which in turn would generate conditions that would cause increasing suffering among the mortals, and turn more of them to evil. But could that be all?

It seemed to Mym that Satan had gone to an extraordinary amount of trouble to get him out of the way. It hardly seemed worth it, just for a few more souls. Satan might lose as many souls from the hearings as he would gain from the disturbances among the mortals.

The more Mym thought about this, the less he trusted it. When he couldn’t properly fathom the nature of the evil Satan did, that was apt to be because he had missed the true point. He was still new at his job, and he suspected he was missing the point now.

But there was one who should be able to give him the answer. He touched the Sword. “Chronos,” he murmured.

There was a shimmer, and the Incarnation of Time appeared before him. “Yes, Mars; I caught your signal.”

“Your memory is of my future,” Mym said. “I need to know what Satan is up to, and I suspect it will show there. If you will tell me—”

“Tell you what? My memory covers a great deal.”

“What Satan has done.”

Chronos frowned. “You may misunderstand my nature. I remember your future, true—but I remember it only as it happened, not as it might have happened. So if
as you say Satan has done something, then this is the way I remember it, and I don’t know how it differs from what you feel it ought to be. If you can be more specific—”

Mym remembered that Luna was supposed to play a key role in foiling Satan’s major scheme, and that Satan had been trying to get around that before it happened. “Is Luna—does she remain all right?”

“Why, certainly, though her disappointment has been serious.”

“Her disappointment?”

“She had hoped to foil Satan; but, of course, that became impossible.”

“Impossible? Why? Isn’t she active in politics?”

“She was. But that’s academic.”

“Academic? Why? Doesn’t she cast the key vote against Satan, when the time comes?”

Chronos smiled sadly. “How could she? There was no issue to vote on.”

This sounded very much like what he was looking for. “At what point did the matter of issues and voting become academic?”

“Very recently, actually. When martial law was declared in America and the civilian government temporarily suspended. Of course there is nothing so permanent as a temporary—”

“Martial law? Whatever for?”

“Because of the unrest. It was simply impossible for a democratic government to cope, so the military had to take over. I viewed this with extreme regret, myself, but I must admit that the alternative would have been worse. There could have been complete anarchy.”

“How long ago—for you—did this martial law develop?” Mym asked.

“Only a week ago. But it was inevitable; the violence in the world is already too great to be contained, as I come to perceive it now. The lesser of evils had to be embraced.”

“Thank you, Chronos,” Mym said. “You have told me what I need to know.”

“Any time, Mars,” Chronos said. He tilted his Hourglass and vanished.

Mym paced the floor, his head seeming to spin. Here he had been concerned about his own lost love, while the world really was going to Hell! Now he understood Satan’s plot—to foment violence in the world to such a degree that the civilian governments fell by the wayside. Military dictatorships were things Satan could shape to his own ends—and of course Luna would have no way to cast her vote against Satan, when there was no civilian government.

Well, he could put a stop to that. He would quell every battle before it happened, restoring relative peace.

Mym touched the Sword. “War’s minions,” he murmured.

They appeared, in their bright capes. “Rich harvests!” Conquest said, rubbing his hands together.

“No,” Mym said. “We are going to suppress these. Provide me with a list of the most serious situations, so I can go to each.”

Conquest brought out a scroll and unrolled it. The thing seemed to be endlessly long.

Mym looked at it. “But there are thousands here!” he exclaimed.

“Yes,” Conquest agreed heartily. “And more developing every moment. We have never had as potentially rich a harvest.” Slaughter, Famine, and Pestilence nodded.

Mym shook his head. “I can’t possibly get to all of these in time, let alone defuse them!”

“Why try?” Slaughter asked. “This is our chance for greatest glory!”

Satan’s plot was coming clearer. In only a few days, the Incarnation of Evil had sown so much dissent in the world that it was now virtually impossible to stop. Had Mars been here, he would have taken note of the interference and cut it off, for this was his domain. But Satan had distracted him in the infernal region, thus having free rein on Earth, and had really made it count. No wonder Mym had seen so little of Satan in Hell; Satan had been very busy elsewhere!

Mym didn’t try to answer Slaughter. “I have other business.” He went outside, summoned Werre, and mounted.
“No supervision of battles today,” he called shortly, and started the horse moving.

They went to Thanatos’ mansion. Mym could have sent out a call for the Incarnation of Death, but he preferred to have a little time to think on the way. If Satan had already stirred the world up to too great a turmoil to be abated before martial law set in, what could he do? But the time did him no good; he still had no idea.

The door opened as he approached the Mansion of Death. Thanatos met him. “Chronos advised us yesterday of your problem—and ours,” Thanatos said. “We are here to try to help.”

And they were. Lachesis and Gaea were there—and Luna, brought to Purgatory for this occasion. They all greeted him warmly.

“But I only talked to Chronos an hour ago!” Mym exclaimed. “How could he have told you yesterday, while I was still in Hell?”

“You forget the direction of his life,” Lachesis said. “He spoke to us a day after he spoke to you.”

Mym nodded. He kept forgetting! “Maybe he can go on back and tell me before I even go to Hell!”

“He is reluctant,” Gaea said. “It seems that there can be serious consequences when he acts to change the course of events that are in his past. On occasion he will do this, but he prefers to keep the compass quite limited, so that the result is fully defined.”

Mym realized that it would indeed be a hazardous business, changing past events; people, including perhaps some Incarnations, could be eliminated. Certainly there should be no haphazard dabbling.

“In any event,” Lachesis said, “this seems to be your problem, Mars. Satan makes things difficult for each new Incarnation at the outset, and it is necessary for that Incarnation to demonstrate that he can prevail. Then Satan knows better than to try again. If Chronos were to rescue you from your dilemma, Satan would merely try another ploy and another, until successful.”

“But the whole world is at stake!” Mym protested. “All of you will lose, too!”

“That is why it is so important for you to prevail,”
Thanatos said. “We must take the risk of letting you oppose Satan alone, even as each of us must, so as to establish that not one of us is a weak spot.”

“But I don’t see how I can prevail!” Mym cried. “I thought I had won in Hell—only to learn that I had lost in the mortal realm. And according to Chronos, that loss stands.”

“Not necessarily,” Luna said. “Chronos can report only on the aspect of history he has lived through. If that is changed, he will live a different life, and that will be as valid as the first. Probably his reality is being constantly changed in little ways by the actions of the rest of us, and he is not aware of it.”

“That sounds like paradox to me,” Mym said.

“Chronos is immune from paradox,” Thanatos said. “This may be difficult for the rest of us to understand, but it must be accepted.”

“So I can change future reality—if I can only figure out how,” Mym said. “I can take Satan’s victory away—somehow.”

“That is a thing we have to believe,” Lachesis said.

“Unless there
is
no way!”

“There must be a way,” Thanatos said. “Otherwise Satan would not have attempted to keep you so long in Hell. He knew it was only safe for him if you remained there until after his move on Earth was complete. You won free too soon, so now it must be in your power to prevail.”

“Certainly you must seek it,” Luna said.

“Certainly I must seek it,” he agreed morosely. “The fate of the world, left to one confused stutterer!”

Then he did a double-take. “I’m not stuttering!”

“Fancy that,” Gaea murmured.

“But I didn’t stutter in Hell, because—I thought—how can this be?” Then he remembered. “Green Mother—you took something from me and did not tell me what it was. You took my stutter!”

“We do have some power over each other—if we agree to it,” Gaea said. “I felt you could spare it.”

“And I never noticed!”

She shrugged. “Surely you have other powers you haven’t noticed. One of them may yet foil Satan.”

Shaken, Mym departed. This seemingly minor demonstration of the special power of an Incarnation impressed him more than all the other wonders he had seen. He had agreed to let Nature take something of his. Now the other Incarnations had agreed to let him affect their futures. He had to come through for them!

Yet the way eluded him. He returned preoccupied to the Castle of War and ate and slept fitfully and ate again, remaining confined. No revelation came. One day passed, and two, and three, and the situation among the mortals intensified, yet he remained helpless. He simply saw no way to do what he knew he had to do.

He found himself walking again in the garden. There, when he reached the nether extremity, was the demoness.

“So nice to see you again, Mars,” she said, stretching languidly. She wore another of her semi-exposive gowns, and her breasts moved almost liquidly as her torso shifted.

“Get out of here, slut!” he raged.

“Nuh-uh, Mars,” she said, smiling. “This is a neutral zone, remember? You would not have come here if you hadn’t wanted to see me, now would you!”

“I came here to figure out how to defeat your foul master!” he snapped.

“That is not easy to do, Mym. Why don’t you just bow to the inevitable and relax? Since you have inadvertently served Satan’s design, you might as well accept your reward.”

“What reward?” he demanded.

“Me, of course.” She stretched again, spectacularly. “I really do want to serve you, Mym, and I am very good at what I do. I can return to you what I denied you in Hell.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, sure that he would regret the question, but unable to pass it by.

She fuzzed out, slowly changing shape. “Why, the Fireman. Don’t you remember?”

“The fire monster in Hell?” he asked blankly.

“You were just about to possess your beloved, and I was jealous, so I sent the monster to break it up. Now it is of course too late; you can never possess her.”

“You—?”
he began, outraged.

Her form firmed. She looked exactly like Ligeia. “What does she have that I can not emulate?” she inquired in Ligeia’s dulcet voice.

Mym found the Red Sword in his hand. But he froze, not striking. How could he slay the facsimile of the woman he loved?

“I don’t suppose you would believe that one of my kind could truly care for you,” she said.

“True,” he said between his teeth.

She shifted back to her presumably natural form. “I’m not even one of the damned. I’m just a construct of ether, existing solely at my Master’s discretion. I have no reality other than my assignment. My assignment is to please you. If I fail in this, I will have no existence at all. You have but to instruct me in those things you require of the ideal woman, and I will be those things as perfectly and as long as you desire them. Will you deny me my only chance to emulate that state of grace?”

Even with his rage at her, Mym was struck by the seeming sincerity of her words. How could a genuinely soulless creature speak in this fashion? He knew it was foolish, but he found himself beginning to appreciate her position.

He was without a woman. For the third time he had lost his love. Perhaps it was time for a concubine he didn’t need to love or make any pretense of loving.

“The ideal woman serves her man absolutely,” Mym said. “Whatever he asks of her, she does without question. Any question he has, she answers honestly and to the best of her ability. Loyalty—that is the salient quality I require. Loyalty to me, before all else.”