The Season of Passage Read online

  'The truth. Why did you do all these things to us?'

  He stood erect, proud. I will not tell you.'

  Her eyes kindled. 'Speak!'

  Kratine cowered. 'Very well. The truth will be of no help to you since the curse cannot be undone. Actually, I am happy to tell you about my wonderful designs.' His smile returned. 'You know of our first war, long ago. You understand why I started it. My land is old and dying, I wanted yours. I desired to replant my civilization and allow it to grow, until it matched our glorious past, a time I remember well. I sent my warriors against your warriors. I even went myself to lead my army. We won many glorious battles against your people. But on the verge of victory your king invoked the Fire Messenger and ruined my plans. I retreated to my world, and contemplated long and deep what this defeat meant.

  'It was during this time I came to understand that it wasn't our world alone that was responsible for our decline. My race was too old. I could feel the age in my own blood, and it troubled me. I asked myself, how can the old regain their youth? At first it did not seem possible. I pondered long upon the dilemma, and called on the gods respectful to Asure for assistance. In time the answer came to me.

  'I will not offend your delicate nature by going into all the details. Granted that the difference in our bodies - as Rankar mentioned- was the greatest obstacle. Yet I believed that if I could experiment with a male and female of your children, I could bring my seed to life in the female. I could weave a spell that would change the very nature of the female. She would be mine, and I would return her to your Garden, where she would feed upon the blood of the Sastra, even as they slept, and make more of her own kind. In this way my will would enter into your children. They would be mine, not yours. I would live through them. I would be young, while you were dead. And you would not be able to stop me once I got started, for you would have to kill too many of your children, and that was one thing I knew neither Rankar or you would ever do. Such was my plan, Chaneen. What do you think?' 'Need I remind you that it failed?'

  Kratine gloated. 'Has it?'

  'Rankar was suspicious of your offer.'

  'Your King -1 slew him!'

  'lam not Janier. You cannot lie to me without my knowing. If you'd had ten times your power, you could not have slain my husband.' She pointed to the pool of lava. 'You will continue your explanation and pay less heed to your false deeds.'

  Kratine looked shocked. 'So you do threaten me?'

  'Perhaps.'

  Kratine spoke hastily. 'You know what happened. Rankar came instead of sending a male and female. He came to this very altar, and by a means I can only respect, figured out my plan. I have no idea how he did that.'

  'I'm sure it was not difficult. You're careless with your mouth. Continue!'

  I was surprised,' Kratine said. 'But my greatest shock was yet to come. He dropped his guard. He set aside all his powers, all his armor. The King of the Garden invited extinction! Of course, seeing the opportunity, I slew him.

  I was overjoyed. My greatest enemy was gone. My plan could go forward without obstacle. Unknown to you I captured several Sastra, males and females both. Yet here I was met with another surprise. My plan would not work. My spirit refused to enter their blood. When I killed them, they remained dead.

  I was dismayed. Yet I no longer had Rankar to worry about. I decided to take your Garden outright. I landed my warriors upon your deserts. If I could not have my youth back, I thought, I would enjoy my old age in fair lands. I was certain of victory.

  'You know this part of the story. Your warriors were losing. I was

  winning. The Garden would have been mine but for your invocation of the Fire Messenger. Earlier I said that I recognized you from the beginning as a worthy adversary. If the truth be known, I only suspected your powers, and gave them little heed. Unlike Rankar's, I had never seen them used before. I underestimated your strength and that was a grave mistake. Through your sister you killed more of my people than I had lost in the previous year. Janier was merciless. Few escaped her wrath. Plus already Rankar had robbed me of my special plan. All appeared in ruins. Yet, strangely enough, it was Janier who saved the day.

  'Eventually I figured out how Rankar had upset the spell I was trying to cast. I began to see the intimate relationship that exists between you two as guardians, and your children. The same bond does not exist between me and my people. Because he was the King of Sastra, Rankar's choice became your children's choice. He could have lived through the ages, with you by his side, and your children around you. But he died, he chose to die. It was no wonder when I began to experiment with your females that they just passed away. Rankar had taken away their immortality.

  'Understanding this, I devised a scheme to bypass his continuing influence. I decided to take one of your children and have her forsake Rankar's protection, and then have her stand so close to death that she could feel its real terror. With these conditions met, I believed I could cast my spell.

  'At this time Janier was storming across your desert toward my bridge. I studied her from afar. She was filled with vengeance. She was not behaving the way you would. I noticed a rift between her actions and your support. I decided to use that rift and lure her into a trap where I could test my theories.

  'My original plan had since undergone major changes. By the time Janier reached here, there were too few left on either side to carry it out. My hope was for the future. I knew the Garden's soil was rich, and that your children would survive, although they would be short-lived because of what Rankar had done. Still, I could see they would flourish across your lands. I knew that one day they would come here. They will have to - I will invite them here. And on that day the Asurian spirit will be reawakened, and I will be reborn in your world.

  'I will have little to add. Your sister forsook her people. I imagine ·you will remember her with contempt.'

  When Kratine's explanation was finished, Chaneen stood silent for a long time and pondered his words. Much of what he had told her, she already knew. When Kratine had lectured Janier, she had heard him, for in the end Janier had remembered her Queen and replaced the ring on her finger. Janier had done so without Kratine's knowledge.

  Chaneen believed that could be a weakness in his spell.

  She pointed to the boiling mud. 'You haven't told me how you tortured my sister.'

  Kratine sniffed the air, trying to know her intentions. I told you, I wished to spare you the details.'

  I think you didn't want to anger me.'

  Kratine fell silent. Chaneen began to circle him. He followed her carefully, turning as she moved, until his back was to the pool of lava. Then Chaneen began to walk toward him, forcing him to move back.

  'But I know Kratine,' she said. I know everything you did.'

  'It was necessary,' he said anxiously. 'You would have done the same in my position.'

  Chaneen pressed him within inches of the pit. The illusion of his human form quivered as his fear mounted.

  'You survive at another's expense,' she said. 'You delight in causing pain. Where is your throng of brides that witnessed my sister's torment?'

  'I had them killed.' He glanced over his shoulder. He had nowhere left to go. For a moment his head was much larger, his teeth sharper. I knew you were coming.'

  'You're lying. You murdered them in your despair, for they no longer pleased you, not after my sister.'

  'You cannot threaten me here, Chaneen.'

  She raised the hand that held Rankar's ring. 'Can't I?'

  'You cannot stop my curse, ' he said, as a sickly yellow fluid began to collect on the floor at his feet. 'I will be young again, and live forever.'

  'If that lime should ever come,' Chaneen swore, 'the joys you believe you 're going to recapture will be like poisons to your soul. The sunlight you long for will bum you. The fresh waters you crave will blind you wherever you go. You will buy your youth at a bitter price.'

  'I'll drink of your children's blood.'

  'Nothing yo
u drink will take away your thirst.'

  'You are beaten, Chaneen. Face it.'

  She allowed herself a soft laugh and watched him tremble. His face ran like melting wax. A gaping hole appeared where his mouth had been. His nose turned into a dripping snout.

  'You are a fool,' she said. 'You have your spell, true, and your spirit may one day crawl again. But you have been tricked. You have been used, Kratine. Those gods you invoked who gave you your plan, those respectful to Asure. They're nothing more than demons from the deep. You think you will possess others. You are already possessed, and all because you are a coward. You shake at the thought of what is behind you. One more step Kratine, and you will burn. And I can make you take that step!'

  I meant your sister no harm,' he pleaded as his human clothing vanished completely. 'It was necessary.'

  Chaneen grabbed his scaly neck and held him above the lava. 'Always with you it is necessary!'

  'Spare me, Chaneen!'

  'How does it feel, devil?'

  'Please?' he begged, trembling in her hands.

  She loosened her grip, ready to drop him in the pit. 'She was my sister!'

  'You can't do this!'

  'You murdered her!'

  'She made me. Please, Chaneen! No!'

  Chaneen heard Janier's cry in his cry.

  'No,' she whispered. She pulled him back from the pit and released

  him. I won't harm you. Perhaps that will mean something to you, after

  all that you've done to me. I don't hale you, Kratine. I only feel sorry for

  you. Live a few more days, if you must. You are old. You will die soon,

  anyway.'

  Kratine bowed low at her feet. 'You are merciful.' He stood and went to touch her hair, but then lost his nerve. 'May I ask what your intentions are now?'

  'You may not.' Chaneen stepped to his throne and raised her arms. Once again the sunlight filled her body and she began to dissolve. 'This curse of yours is indeed powerful, but so am I.' She smiled. 'It will be well met.'

  Only when the shadows of twilight began to cross the trees was Chaneen found walking in her Garden again. What remained of her children had gathered at the foot of the steps that led into her palace, awaiting her return. The sight of their beautiful faces filled her with love as she approached. But she knew such love would only make her goodbye more difficult. Pastel, guided by a friend, greeted her with a handful of flowers. He knelt at her feet.

  'My Queen,' he said. 'We have heard rumor that janier has crossed into Asure with our army. Then in the morning sky we all saw a huge flame fly across the heavens. We beg to know what these things mean.'

  Chaneen motioned for her children to sit comfortably beside the steps. Then she spoke. I have sad news. The remainder of our warriors are dead. They perished in Asure, along with your Princess, Janier.'

  Heads were bowed. Pastel took her hand and there were tears on his face. 'Did Janier disobey your commands?' he asked. 'Is that why they all died?'

  'No,' Chaneen said truthfully. 'Janier was with me in the end. Our warriors died protecting us, and none of their deaths were in vain. The mighty flame you saw leap from the sun hit Asure and destroyed it. The flame was the payment the Asurians suffered for attacking us.'

  'Then Janier saved us,' Pastel said proudly.

  'Yes,' Chaneen agreed. 'Asure was destroyed because of my sister.' She gazed into their faces for a while, seeing the many expressions from which the character of mankind would be born. Then she bid them listen closely. 'What I have to say next is difficult. This war has changed your lives in many ways. With Ranhar's death, your allotted days have been diminished. You will now grow old and die. Your children will do likewise, and their children in turn. It may seem a great tragedy, but it is not. Something beautiful will come of it. A bud dies but a flower blooms. Our people will go on. They will multiply and become great. They will cover this world, and one day they will go to other worlds. That will be a dangerous time for them. You see, the enemy has laid a curse upon those times. It is a curse that must be met if our future children are to return to the stars and be with the gods. With Rankar's passing, my days have also lessened. Therefore I must leave you now before I die, so that I may come again in that time of danger, in the next, season of passage, and put a final end to this menace that tries to drag us down to its own path of despair. Tonight, when the stars are bright, I will go into the heavens. But I won't forget you. Although I am far away, I will always watch over you.'

  Pastel trembled. 'But we cannot survive without you!'

  She stood. 'Yes, you can. You will do more than survive. You will become like the gods in the stars. And should your path ever stray from the goal, Rankar will return to show you there is nothing to fear. And when the threat of the enemy awakens, I will be there. It is Chaneen who promises you this.'

  She walked about the circle of her children and touched each one on the head. Then she spoke to them for the last time. 'This is not the end but the beginning. Go now and enjoy. One day, we will be together again.'

  A silent night. The stars shone bright in a clear sky. Alone by the pool of holy waters, Chaneen meditated. Suddenly there was a husk across the whole Garden as faint pinpricks of light glowed on the liquid mirror, each representing a different god in the heavens. Slowly Chaneen began to vanish. Her heart filled with the warmth that existed in the center of the sun. Her body became like golden rays of shimmering light, a light that could be in many places at the same time. Fainter and more distant became that light as she expanded out across the universe.

  Chaneen was gone, but she had not forgotten her promise. Sitting beside the holy waters was the ring.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  Terry Hayes threw back the curtains of his bedroom window, squinting in the bright sunlight. It was two in the afternoon, and he had just woken up. He supposed he should get to work. Sitting down in front of his word processor, he opened the file that held his latest book -Whisper of Pain. He was on page four hundred twenty-one and it was brilliant. He supposed the story would be classified as science fiction, but it was really a modern-day morality fable that just happened to take place forty years in the future. It was about a time when there were human clones, who were identical in every aspect to their original counterparts, except that they were all tattooed on their wrists with special identification numbers. The clones suffered from worldwide persecution for not being real. In fact, his first chapter started just as all the clones in the United States were being rounded up for execution. His hero was a man whose wife had died two years earlier of cancer. His heroine was the clone of the man's wife. The two lived together in fear of her true identity being discovered. The book was reminiscent of Pinocchio. More than anything else, more than even safety, his heroine wished to be real. Terry was hopelessly in love with her. Her name was Lauren. But I just called her that, Doctor. It doesn't mean a thing.

  Before beginning work, Terry reached over on his desk and popped a few capsules of bee pollen in his mouth, swallowing them with the help of a glass of water. His surgeon had turned him on to the stuff, the day after the doctor had cut out a third of his stomach to keep him from bleeding to death.

  Terry had had a bad time after the Hawk and Nova collided.

  Those were strange days. Patches of them occasionally returned to him with vivid clarity, but for the most part they were lost - even now - in a brown blur that bore an uncanny resemblance to Scotch whisky. It was odd when Lauren died how he had turned to that particular drink. His drug of choice had always been vodka. Besides, he hated the taste of whisky. It was like swallowing cleaning fluid. Yet he must have felt dirty inside because he scrubbed his insides out so well he wore away the lining of his guts. He did remember the night he woke up at three in the morning in terrible pain and vomited up a pint of blood. It shouldn't have upset him. He was trying to kill himself after all. But death was one thing. Pain was another. Pain hurt. He called for an ambulance.

  But that had been over a year a
fter Lauren died. Many things had happened before he dug deep enough to reach the delicate veins in his stomach. First he got fired. It seemed the paper didn't need a space program reporter whose astronaut fiancée was cosmic dust. Oh, they'd asked him for a few tearful testimonials before they canned him, but since he'd told them to go to hell, it had only speeded his departure. Yeah, Terry, they told him, if you want to finish that next book, now's a good time.

  Ricky, his story of the cockroach, came out four months after Lauren died. It was released as a paperback original. His publisher had planned to print four hundred thousand copies, in anticipation of leveraging his relationship with Lauren into several nationwide TV appearances. They shipped less than half that number. The book came out, appeared to sell OK, and then vanished. But not for good. Six months after its release, his publisher called and said they were doing a modest second printing. Five months after that they did a third printing - twice the size of the second. The book was now in its fourth printing; it appeared to be gathering steam. He received half a dozen fan letters a week, and his publisher had even sent him a small royalty check the previous month, which he had promptly turned over to the hospital where he'd had his stomach sliced open. Publishers Weekly even saw fit to do a half-page article on him. They spelled his name wrong and called him 'promising,' but other than that they didn't step too hard on his work.

  So there he was, turning into a minor celebrity, but he didn't give a shit. He stopped writing and he kept drinking. He went through his savings fast, because he only drank in bars. He hated to be alone. He hated to be with people as well, unless they liked his special brand of Scotch. He turned into the foul-mouthed fellow who sat at the counter in the bar and watched the big TV glued to the ceiling and made deprecating comments about every prick and bitch on the screen who had the nerve to look happy. Still, he left the women in the bars alone. It wasn't as if he was afraid he wouldn't be able to get it up for a strange woman. He just feared he might climb on top of whoever it was and try to convince himself it was Lauren - a sick thought, but then he was sick. One year after the ships collided he looked in the mirror and wondered who the guy standing behind the guy with the beard was.