Part 2 (1/2)

There was a Naila, a Valis, another called simply She, and a tall strong woman, older than the rest, called Mary. Mary seemed to be the leader, or at least the one with the most authority. It was to her Bly was brought.

”Mary,” one of the guards said, ”the first of what we hoped to find.”

The woman looked at the man appraisingly. He was the first she had ever seen. He seemed of good stock. She was quick to note he wore no weapons.

It surprised her, for even if he had no enemies, there would be wild animals about.

”Yes,” Mary said softly, ”the first. Then the book was true. There _are_ men in this world.” She made a sound of laughter deep in her throat, stopped, then said to Bly, ”We have come a long way. Do you talk? Can you tell me whether there are others like you?”

”Like me and different,” Bly replied.

The women exchanged glances.

Mary spoke again: ”How do you mean?”

It did not take long for Bly Stanton to tell the history of the three hundred men of his group, and that of the Mongoloid Himlo men, the last of the invaders who were the remnants of those who came across from Asia. All the while he spoke, his senses were full of these women. There was a long silence when he finished his tale.

”The books did not lie then,” the one called Naila said. ”And what about children...?” her voice faded.

”The last of the great bombs did irreparable damage,” Mary said. ”But we will talk of that later. You have told us that there is a battle to the death between you and these Himlos. Then why are you unarmed? Where are your weapons?”

It was the first time Bly had been asked the question directly. And it was the first time he had to think about it. He let his mind a.s.semble the facts in their proper order, and after a while he spoke:

”I do not _know_ why, except that I no longer want to know either the touch or feel of a sword or knife. I do not want to harm anyone. Nor can I explain why I feel this way.”

Suddenly one of the women made a sound of horror. They turned to her and saw she was staring in fascination at the torn part of Stanton's s.h.i.+rt where the sword blade had entered. Mary and several others gathered closer, and Mary parted the fabric to see the wound better.

”Look!” she exclaimed in wonder. ”How deep it is.”

For the first time, then, Bly Stanton saw the wound for what it was, a death wound. He wondered--had he become immortal?--not in the sense he knew, but in actuality, where death even by violence was not the end.

He put out his hand and said: ”Let me have a blade.”

Without hesitation, Mary handed him the blade which hung at her right side. Placing the point against the flesh, he put both hands about the hilt and plunged it deep into him with all his strength, until only the hilt was to be seen.

Miraculously, he felt no pain. The blade when Stanton withdrew the steel showed virgin as it had entered, and not a drop of crimson dyed the entrance it had made in the flesh.

One of the women put into words what they all felt: ”This is magic.

Death is gone forever now.”

_It was in that very instant that the soul of Miotis entered into the body of Bly Stanton._

Stanton felt a sudden elation. More, a consciousness of vast powers. He was immune to death. But were his companions? He looked Mary full in the eyes as he said: ”It seems that nothing can kill me now, even violence.

What of you?”

She knew what he meant. And with as little hesitation as he had shown, did what he did with the blade in her fingers. Her face in an instant became a grotesque mask of pain and horror. A fountain of blood poured from the self-inflicted wound. She tried to say something as she sank to her knees, but nothing came out.