Part 25 (2/2)

But his words had pulled Ross out of a spell which had been as quicksand about him. And he began to fight back with a determination not to be sucked into what filled this place. In spite of Ross's efforts, his eyes could supply him with no definite impression of where they were. The ramp had led them out of the sea, but where they walked now, linked hand to hand, Ross could not say. He could see the glimmer of the Foanna; turning his head he could see his companions as shadows, but all beyond that was utter dark.

”Ahhhh--” Karara's sobs gave way to a whisper which was half moan. ”This is a way of G.o.ds, old G.o.ds, G.o.ds who never dealt with men! It is not well to walk the road of the G.o.ds!”

Her fear lapped to Ross. He faced that emotion as he had faced so many different kinds of fear all his life. Sure, he felt that pressure on him, not the pressure of past centuries now--but a power beyond his ability to describe.

”Not our G.o.ds!” Ross put his stubborn defiance into words, more as a s.h.i.+eld against his own wavering. ”No power where there is no belief!”

From what half-forgotten bit of reading had he dredged that knowledge?

”No being without belief!” he repeated.

To his vast amazement he heard Ashe laugh, though the sound bordered on hysteria.

”No belief, no power,” the older man replied. ”You've speared the right fish, Ross! No G.o.ds of ours dwell here, Karara, and whatever G.o.d does has no rights over us. Hold to that, girl, hold tight!”

”Ah, ye forty thousand G.o.ds, Ye G.o.ds of sea, of sky, of woods, Of mountains, of valleys, Ye a.s.semblies of G.o.ds, Ye elder brothers of the G.o.ds that are, Ye G.o.ds that once were, Ye that whisper. Ye that watch by night, Ye that show your gleaming eyes, Come down, awake, stir, Walk this road, walk this road!”

She was singing, first softly and then more strongly, the liquid words of her own tongue repeated in English as if what she strove to call she would share with her companions. Now there was triumph in her singing and Ross found himself echoing her, ”Walk this road!” as a demand.

It was still there, all of it, the crus.h.i.+ng weight of the past, and that which brooded within that past, which had reached out for them, to possess or to alter. Only they were free of that reaching now. And they could see too! The fuzzy darkness was lighter and there were normal walls about them. Ross put out his free hand and rubbed finger tips along rough stone.

Once more their senses were a.s.saulted by a stealthy attack from beyond the bounds of s.p.a.ce and time as the walls fell away and they came out into a wide s.p.a.ce whose boundaries they could not see. Here that which brooded was strong, a mighty weight poised aloft to strike them down.

”Come down, awake, stir....” Karara's pleading sank again to a whisper, her voice sounded hoa.r.s.e as if her mouth were dry, her words formed by a shrunken tongue, issued from a parched throat.

Light spreading in channels along the floor, making a fiery pattern--patterns within patterns, intricate designs within designs.

Ross jerked his eyes away from those patterns. To study them was danger, he knew without being warned. Karara's nails bit into his flesh and he welcomed that pain; it kept him alert, conscious of what was Ross Murdock, holding him safely apart from something greater than he, but entirely alien.

The designs and patterns were lines on a pavement. And now the three Foanna, swaying as if yielding to unseen winds, began to follow those patterns with small dancing steps. But the Terrans remained where they were, holding to one another for the sustaining strength their contact offered.

Back, forth, the Foanna danced--and once more their cloaks vanished or were discarded, so their silver-bright figures advanced, retreated, weaving a way from one arabesque to another. First about the outer rim and then in, by spirals and circles. No light except the crimson glowing rivulets on the floor, the silver bodies of the Foanna moving back and forth, in and out.

Then, suddenly, the three dancers halted, huddled together in an open s.p.a.ce between the designs. And Ross was startled by the impression of confusion, doubt, almost despair wafted from them to the Terrans. Back across the patterned floor they came, their hands clasped even as the Terrans stood together, and now they fronted the three out of time.

”Too few ... we are too few....” she who was the mid one of the trio said. ”We can not open the Great Door.”

”How many do you need?” Karara's voice was no longer parched, frightened. She might have traveled through fear to a new serenity.

Why did he think that, Ross wondered fleetingly. Was it because he, too, had had the same release?

The Polynesian girl loosed her grip on her companions' hands, taking a step closer to the Foanna.

”Three can be four--”

”Or five.” Ashe moved up beside her. ”If we suit your purpose.”

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