CHAPTER X


POWER OF GODS


Sewer air with all its nuances of festering organism was
restored, aura of rot more welcome than a hungry green mist.
An icy serenity settled down. The group stood with voices
deadened and limbs petrified; they are one body of which the
heart has been plucked out. Finally Byrull calling
Lisaloran's name broke the silence. He fell on his stomach
at the rim of the drainhole but all that his eyes could see
was an ocean of absolute blackness below.

Julyan lightly touched his shoulder with a trembling hand.
"There is nothing we can do here. Let us go upstairs and
seek counsel there."

Without protest, the Councillor allowed his companions to
guide him away, and soon after climbing through the porthole
the bedraggled little group found themselves back in what
one would now call normal, fluorescent-lit surroundings.
Royan, grimfaced and drawn, took leadership with natural
flourish and led them, without encountering any more
disturbances, up the low staircase to a vast steel door at
the end of the hallway.

They entered the system control room and found it was only
dimly illuminated. Shards of wall and glass, twisted metal
and torn cables lay scattered all over the place. Doctor
Reball manifested himself from the shadow of a fallen beam,
looking as shabby and unkempt as the group. Hovering closely
behind him was Ecelyn Byrull who had discarded her evening
gown and changed into ill-fitting overalls.

"Hern!" she called out upon seeing the Councillor, "what
happened?" She ran to him and he put his arms around her in
a dazed sort of way. Byrull could only shake his head
without answering her many anxious questions. He had aged in
a few hours' time. Doctor Reball refrained from asking
questions. He knew through which route they had made their
escape and that, more than enough, told a grim tale.
Instead, he fussed around, conjuring dented stools and
chairs out of dusty corners.

"Where are the other technicians?" Carlomon asked.

Without looking at him, the Doctor answered: "They are
either dead, dying or trying to put out that big fire a few
yards away from here. None of them has returned for several
hours. Take it from me, it is tremendously hard work trying
to maintain controls by oneself."

From under a trailing cable of a ruptured station, he
stealthily observed his employers, one by one. Byrull, his
pride ground to dust, humbled by the sorrow of a loss that
he could not share with his lady. Julyan Ermiz stood
forlornly apart, shivering intermittently, his face a blank.
And, Carlomon, more withdrawn than ever, silently brooding.
The young guards gathered together separately in a far
corner and in the centre of their tight circle he could see
the tawny head of the Lieutenant of the Spacio Command
bobbing like a buoy in a swell.

"Follow me," Royan said aloud, "and show that you are made
of different mettle." The Lieutenant swung away towards the
door and the small band of guards followed him.

Byrull jerked into movement. "Where are you going?" he
demanded sternly.

An unquenchable fire burnt in the Lieutenant's eyes. "You
don't expect me to abandon my Captain, do you? He may not
stand a chance of surviving that fall, but I am not going to
leave him there. I am going down and find him."

"To ... to go down," Julyan stammered, "to that monstrosity.
This is madness!"

Carlomon stood up. "Let him go, Lar Ermiz," he commanded
quietly. He beckoned Byrull to come with him to an obscure
corner, looking wistfully over his shoulder at the door
closing on Royan's broad back.

"He is good, that Lieutenant, untiring and resilient. Are
all your commanders like him? They will be a formidable
enemy indeed on a battlefield." He paused, an expression of
profound regret darkening his face, and he continued in a
grave voice: "Councillor, we must now consider, very
seriously, what we have to do next. To my mind, there are
only two ways open.

"Firstly, trying to get out and, if we succeed, to vanish in
the outside world--your world, Councillor. I presume it will
be more difficult for you than for me. All Iucarian
commanders will be there waiting for you with their powerful
ray weapons drawn. I have not seen, and you have not told me
enough, how your social and judicial system is structured.
They may be more advanced and civilized than ours but, after
what has happened, I would rather not make myself open to
whatever dubious consequences a plea for clemency might
produce.

"The last solution is to go ahead as planned. For me to go
back and for you to enter an unknown world, less secure and
a little more barbaric than the one you are accustomed to,
but offering far more potential to rise as the strongest.
But with the very great danger, as we have witnessed so many
times, of being mutated during the transit by some unknown
lethal radiation.

"We thought at first that the powers of the Light Force
would provide safe passage, but alas, such hope lies now
buried at the bottom of a deep well." Carlomon heaved a
sigh. "A pity, what a pity. The forces that thing possessed,
the crown jewel of all jewels, the most deadly weapon ever
conceived. I wonder what it feels like to have its power in
the palm of one's hand."

His eyes widened in consternation as haloes of brilliant
blue-white light suddenly spiralled through the floor and
the room was suffused with a blazing glow, as if a small
star had gone nova right beneath the ground.

"What is that?" Byrull gasped.

"It is the POWER," Carlomon whispered and continued
bitterly. "STARGLORY, the Core of a Lord Laris, inhibited by
the rule of a boy who does not even understand what he has
become!"

* * *

The shock after the tremendous fall had left him breathless
and for moments that fleeted by like the last whispers of
those killed and gone Trajan lay motionless. He did not hit
hard ground but had landed on a heap of brittle material
that crunched and cracked like dry branches. He was hemmed
in by overpowering darkness but knew that it was not wood or
rubble that he had fallen on.

He lay very still, not daring to stir or even think. It was
a time for saving his strength. In no circumstance would he
make the first move. He was being watched; he would wait and
watch in his turn. He only hoped that Lisaloran would do the
same.

Lisaloran was not very far away from him. Sounds of heavy
breathing floated to him in the oppressive inkiness. Still
he did not move and waited, still waited even when the
wheezing turned to a sobbing. Then suddenly, in the depths
of blackness a bubble started to pop, slowly flared and
ballooned to a pulsing green glow.

Immediately Trajan sprang into action. "Lisaloran!" he
called. The sobbing choked off and Lisaloran's voice,
faltering in the darkness, called to him: "Trajan, is that
you? Where are you?"

"I am here," he said, "Stay where you are. I am moving over
to you."

In the expanding luminosity, Trajan finally caught sight of
Lisaloran, faintly silhouetted against deeper shadows and
using his right elbow and knees as leverage he crept his way
through the heap of bones, and cracked skulls, over to her
side. He could see that she started to crawl towards him as
well. When he stretched out his arm, she took his hand and
pulled him to her.

"Lisaloran," Trajan whispered, holding her hand firmly, "you
have to trust me.

"Do you trust me?" he asked when she did not reply. She
answered in a hoarse voice: "Oh Trajan, there is no one else
except you and me."

"If you do trust me," Trajan said, "you must exactly do as I
tell you. This is far more terrible than the things we have
seen."

The spectral hue of Green had subtly pushed blackness aside,
a phosphorescent blight no less murderous than the Mutations
elsewhere. The shadow-blankets around them rippled away like
filaments of mist in the wind as the spectre twisted into a
column of vapour. They scrabbled their way through the
charnel mound until their feet touched solid ground. The
Vapour began to twirl into a denser cloud. Trajan held
Lisaloran's hand firmer still. "Come on, let us run for it!"

They ran. They did not know which way to go, but they ran
just the same, and kept on running through the fetid
undersewers beneath the drainhole, hunted by a thing of
green smoke. It was a fruitless attempt. If they thought
they had escaped the Vapour in the darkness, tendrils of
vulturous Green would come floating through the air and
encircle them time and again in a wicked game.

"Trajan," Lisaloran moaned, leaning against him in a swoon,
"I cannot go on, I am exhausted."

"I know," said Trajan, "we might as well face it." He lifted
up her chin and looked into her eyes. "Close your eyes,
Lisaloran, rest. If we survive this ordeal so much the
better, if not, I will spare you the final moments."

The Vapour swayed in gossamer nets from ceiling to floor,
poised for the final stroke, and Trajan opened his mind to
it. His Oracles collided with the savagery of a wild beast
that did not know of any other purpose than to feed and to
slaughter. There was a grain of sentience that was aware of
how others, different from its kind, behaved. It was a
childlike being caught in the slipstream of the IsoMén
Equation when the bridge gashed a route through the
membranes of space, a fledgling caught and snatched from
nest and home. Home where it used to cavort with other
vapour entities and suckle on the nourishing fumes of its
gaseous world. Now trapped so long in these sewers that had
become its lair, it had acquired a taste for flesh. It had
learnt to kill for food, to kill for sport.

"Only pure energy will destroy it, but where can I find such
energy?" Trajan breathed heavily, sweat streaming down his
face. "In me," he whispered, "I am Starglory." He was to
destroy a young creature that had turned feral and cruel, a
menace to Iucari-Tres and to its own home world.

? I sorry, I am so sorry ?

He raised his arm high in the air and spread his hand open.
A globe of piercing Blue materialized amongst his fingers,
quivering like a sapphire with a Soul of its own. The blue
light blazed forth from his hand. Brighter and brighter the
radiance sparkled, illuminating the long and narrow funnel
for yards and yards beyond. A spear of light launched itself
from the centre of his hand like a missile and gored the
very core of the green Vapour, ripping and setting it
aflame. The spear spun like a fire wheel, flaring and
scintillating, until not a single vaporous shred was left in
the air, and only then did Trajan lower his arm. The blazing
streak retracted back into his hand and vanished. Darkness
fell upon them again softly like a black, silken shawl.

Lisaloran's voice squealed in alarm: "Trajan, are you still
there? What has happened?"

Trajan answered: "You can open your eyes now, Lisaloran. We
are safe."

With a gasp Lisaloran started groping in the dark and found
him. She hung to him like a frightened child.

"Where is that thing, that awful green mist?"

"It is gone, forever. Let us walk back to the mouth of the
drainhole. The others may be looking for us."

He coded his optic strip but it was not working. He wondered
whether the life signs emission frequency had been damaged
too and the Command thought him dead. For the time being the
only thing he could think of was sleep and still holding
Lisaloran's hand he retraced his steps until they stood
again beneath the drainhole.

Where once an abominable terror reigned in Green supremacy,
there was only peace and quiet, and the remains of the
slaughtered. Trajan sat down on the floor, a good distance
away from the hideous pile, clutching his shoulder which
started to hurt again and through a haze he saw Lisaloran
hovering above him. Her cool fingers touched his hair,
caressed his face, and bending over she put her lips to his.
She rested, for long moments, unmovingly on his chest and
Trajan did not resist her.

The last exertion had exhausted and weakened him. Trajan
surrendered himself to the burning desire of the Dama, whose
hair and skin had remained as fresh and fragrant as young
flowers in Tyro and whose passion was as fierce as the HeliĆ
in Sunder. A Dama who knew full well the power of her beauty
that could rend a lover's heart to ribbons. None was able to
scorn her, save Krystan Schurell and he could now understand
how his father's rejection drove her to hunt him down on
Mount Argento. Feeling how he yielded she clasped his face
between her hands, looking into his eyes as if searching for
the revulsion he had erstwhile shown and seeing clearly that
he had lost the strength to fight her.

"At last," she whispered triumphantly, "at last. If I can't
have the father, I can still have the son."

"What do you want, Lisaloran?" Trajan asked, lying down
wearily, "the Commander or the Lightforce that now lives
inside him?"

She pressed her lips against his mouth, smothering his
questions, then smiled. "You, Trajan, only you."

"I wish I could believe that. You are discarding both Byrull
and Carlomon?"

"Byrull is a Phycel of purpose. His ambition to gain the
title of Lar Protector I found invigorating and challenging
for a while. He has carved out his own empire from scratch
and he has greatly succeeded, here in Iucari-Tres, but I
fear you need better qualities of leadership if you wish to
proceed far beyond."

"And you have found Carlomon a more capable leader?"

"He has displayed a ruthless dynamism that I find admirable
but he is a creature of ice. He has long ago lost all
feelings."

"Except his hunger to master the universe. And yet, even
with such glaring proof of hideous perils, you still wish to
cross the bridge?"

"Yes, Trajan!" Lisaloran said, her large eyes flaring with
desire, "a whole new world awaits us. A world we can
conquer, where I can be Queen. Be my Lar, Trajan, my
Sovereign, at my side always. Nothing else matters any
more."

Trajan twisted his lips into a tired smile. "It is not me
you want, Lisaloran. Like Carlomon, you covet Starglory."

Her fingers tugged at his hair fervently, impatiently, when
his eyes were closing in fatigue; her breath was hot on his
face. Laughing softly, she said, "So damn right you are but
I also understand that I cannot have your Mind without your
Body, so I want them both. Keep awake, Trajan, open your
eyes. Give yourself to me, now, I will take you. Take you
forever and--."

She stopped, grinding her teeth. A faint light beam swung to
and fro above their heads and from a distance a voice
called: "I hear voices down there. Heyho! Is anybody there?"

Trajan sat up. "Eskar! Are you up there? We are down here,
me and Lisaloran."

Eskar's voice boomed: "By the shining HeliĆ, you are safe!
Ho, do you hear me, they are both alive and well. Throw me
some more rope."

* * *

Under Royan's bullying and feverish directives the rescue
operation proceeded without further hindrance. First they
hauled up the Dama and then Trajan. The Lieutenant threw his
arms around his Captain, hugging him, exclaiming again and
again with tears in his voice: "Ankwat! I thought I've lost
you! I thought I've lost you!"

"And yet you came all the way down," Trajan said
quasi-astonished.

Royan planted his hands on his hips in a not too successful
performance of belligerence. "I have to be sure. I cannot
leave you down there, can I? Now, aren't you glad that I
came for you?"

"You tolobo, what if things had gone wrong."

Lisaloran had gone ahead to deliver to her companions the
living proof of her survival herself. Trajan stopped in
front of the control room door hesitating. "Eskar, is there
some other quiet place where I can lie down? I cannot face
the others for the moment."

Royan noticed with concern how pale his face was and
swinging an arm around his Captain's shoulders, he said,
"There is a little restroom for the guards not far from
here."

They turned a corner and walked further down a narrow
passageway, entering a room resembling more or less a
storage space, where there stood a washbasin and a low
wooden cot against the wall. Trajan sat down wearily on the
cot while Royan hurriedly pulled out a medic pouch from his
jacket.

"Lie down, Captain. Let me change the skin patch. Lar, you
are bleeding awfully bad."

Trajan leant against the pillows, grateful to have Royan
around, fussing over him like a worried medic, dapping his
wound, peeling away the soiled skin patch and spraying a
fresh one. The Lieutenant readjusted the strap and shook his
head worriedly. "I don't like it. It looks bad. The wound is
badly inflamed and you are running a fever. We must get out
of here as quickly as possible."

"Eskar, is my optic strip still working?"

"Your communication channel is crushed. There is nothing I
can do about it but your vital sign frequency at least is
still functioning, but it is very weak, Captain. You must
receive proper care."

Trajan twitched his face painfully. "My whole arm feels so
sour. I can feel the slug's teeth getting deeper into my
flesh. Do you have any stim-booster ampoules in that pouch
of yours? They can help me go on a little longer."

Royan looked very troubled. "These ampoules will give you
relief for a short time only. It's the infection I am
worried about. I have nothing against it." He paused. "Wait,
I've got something better."

The Lieutenant fumbled in his jacket and pulled out the
bottle he had swiped from Dr. Reball's cupboard. "Not much
left but, hey, the last drop is always the best."

Trajan took a swig and another until the bottle is empty.
"Not bad at all. You're right, you can get royally flush on
this." They grinned at each other. "There is hope for us
yet, Captain," Royan said. Trajan nodded. "Give me a shot of
stim-booster too and I will sleep like a snow ursynx in
hibernation."

A harsh voice lashed out. "Is sleep all you can think of in
this most critical time?" Carlomon stood in the doorway,
fixing on them his brooding eyes.

"Come now, Trajan," he coaxed, walking slowly across, "No
more pretensions of innocence or weakness. No more
inhibitions of honour and morals. I know what your strength
really is, so potent it can move worlds, if you just permit
yourself to the task. I am sure we are able to cross the
bridge safely with your aid, but look at you now, nothing
more than a whimpering milksop."

"Cestor!" Eskar said furiously. "He is very ill!"

Trajan heaved himself up on his elbow and quietly restrained
his Lieutenant. Holding Carlomon's burning gaze with his own
keen eyes, he said: "Go to damnation, Carlomon. If you want
to cross the bridge without danger, then you must allow me
to have some sleep, fifteen minutes at the most, to
replenish my strength. It is not Starglory which will help
you across but my Will."

Without saying a further word, he turned over on his side,
with his face to the wall, and shut his eyes. Royan bending
over cautiously, observed that he was asleep, and there was
nothing more that he or Carlomon could do than leave quietly
the hushed little room.

* * *

Trajan was soundly asleep and dreaming.

He dreamed how in a large space littered with ruined
apparatus, its occupants were locked in a bitter debate. A
scientist slouched on a stool, his arms dangling. He
grumbled acrimoniously: "If you want to go ahead with it,
that's your business. But there is no way of getting from
here to the Equation chamber. On one side a big fire is
raging and on the other side the Mutations are on a
rampage."

A lean individual with dark, aquiline features, his evening
suit smudged here and there with a greyish film of dust and
soot, spoke with dull, monotonous obstinacy: "And I tell you
there is, through the Halls of Shadows."

A pale Lar, with limp dark-brown hair and madness in his
ebony on sorrel eyes, protested with trembling lips: "That
is the most horrendous place you can ever think of entering,
let alone walking through it. Is there no other way?"

The dark one repeated his words and a tall Dama of ravishing
beauty interrupted the pale Lar's lamentations. "Carlomon is
right. The halls are the only route now open to us. From
there the bridge is only a few yards away."

The pale Lar slumped down on a chair, burying his head under
his arms, looking crushed, and the dark one reassured in his
mesmerizing voice: "Come now, listen everybody. Stay calm
and use the time to take a rest. The last leg of our journey
to the Land of Promise will be the most difficult."

The pale Lar jumped up, spurting in anger: "What Land of
Promise? The demons take it! How can you stay so unconcerned
when you have lost so many of your own kind. You don't care,
you never had! And you want to drag us along into your
hostile world!"

The swarthy one said harshly: "Deaths are inevitable as it
is inevitable that, sooner or later, you have to face up to
the consequences of your decision to cast in your lot with
me. Everyone is free to go, but also to stay. And you can
stay, if you so wish, Lar Ermiz."

"Do whatever you like," the Lar said and left the room.

Trajan stirred uneasily in his sleep and the dimensions of
the large room slowly shrank into a smaller one, his own,
where he lay, and he dreamed how the Dama tiptoed to his
side, softly settling in by his pillow, and watching his
dreaming face with a dreamlike expression of her own. She
tenderly stroked the sweaty hair from his brow and bent
still closer.

"What is it going to be, Trajan? To stay or to go?"

"Lisaloran!" a voice suddenly rang out.

The Dama started up from her position. The figure of the
pale Lar filled up the door opening.

"What are you doing, Lisaloran?" the Lar asked. "You care
for my cousin? I don't believe it. You've never cared for
anyone, not for your Lar, not even for your own son."

"I do care, curse you, Julyan," the Dama retorted with white
lips. "I do care for this one!"

"No, my Dama," the Lar said, "this is not care, this is
obsession. You lust for only the perfect, the finest and the
strongest . You possess them and then you destroy them. But
you cannot destroy this one, he must live. Go, Lisaloran. I
must speak to Trajan alone."

The Dama's face was pale with fury but the Lar's face was
even paler with harsh resolve, and he gave her a look that
told her not to protest any further and leave the room.

For moments the Lar stood hesitantly near the door. Then he
crossed over resolutely to the cot, at which side he
crouched down and covered the sleeper with his shadow.
Trajan felt the Lar's hot hand on his brow as the visitor
started speaking in hushed, determined tones: "Open your
eyes, Trajan, and listen to me. I cannot go along with the
others. There is only death and destruction where they
intend to go, but I do not want to stay behind either. Do
you know what this means for me?

"Please wake up, Trajan, cousin, and listen to what I have
to say. By birthright you are my heir and I hereby name you
my successor to Ermizgarth. Do you hear me, Trajan, after I
am gone you will have everything I posses. They are yours
from now on."

Julyan shook him in a feverish and agitated manner, and
Trajan heard himself groaning and protesting thickly: "Don't
talk such nonsense, Julyan. Nobody is going to die."

Julyan's face studied him closely with a certain fondness,
his eyes bright with resolve one moment, dark with profound
sadness the next. "I am serious, Trajan Schurell, the new
Lar Ermiz, the most worthy. Ermizgarth will flourish under
your rule." Then his face faded out into distance, like a
spaceship sinking over an event horizon into oblivion, and
the shadows lifted from the small room.

Trajan woke up with a start, looking round half-dazed. What
was it that he had been dreaming, or was his dream somehow a
fragment of reality? He had a brief sensation as though his
mind and body had been ? dissociated?. He stood up from his
cot on groggy feet and worked his way across to the
washbasin in the corner. The coolness of the water on his
face cleared his mind and his strength came gradually
surging back. He felt almost healthy as he went through the
door.

Most of the lights outside the room in the corridor had
given up the ghost. Only a small portion was still
flickering with increasing reluctance and no other sound
could be heard in the silence as if the storm had passed
along, with everyone else. Walking in the direction of the
control room his foot caught on something discarded on the
floor. Bending down he saw that it was a silver pistol-blade
that some fashion-conscious Lar Protectors carried as a
status symbol. Looking still closer he found the hand that
held the pistol and the body of the hand, bleeding in the
shadows, the body of a Praecel who once called himself Lar
Ermiz.

He squatted beside his cousin's body and put a hand to his
eyes trying to concentrate. He recalled his dream in a riot
of scenes. Could he have saved Julyan's life and offered it,
laden with shame, remorse and guilt, back to him? Hardly,
and he touched his cousin's cold head with a compassionate
hand. Death had brought them closer together. "Wherever you
are, I will come back for you and I will bury you where you
belong. May you find peace at last, Julyan."

Trajan gently disengaged the pistol-blade from the
stiffening hand and with a final glance at his cousin he
walked away. His sudden entrance into the control room
startled the others and he observed them sombrely still
grasping Julyan's pistol. Not one dared to speak, not even
Lisaloran, staring at him with her desire so apparent in her
sultry eyes. He dropped his gaze to the floor and said:
"Well, I suppose it will be easier for me to transport you
across in smaller numbers."

"Are there any of us not going?" Carlomon asked sharply.

"Julyan is lying outside and this is his pistol-blade I have
just taken from him."

"Fool," Byrull muttered.

Doctor Reball interrupted: "What about those who do not want
to go. I am too old to venture into unknown and, most
probably, barbaric territory."

"They will have to go along and we must stay together, if
you want to stay alive, until the very last minute. In the
Equation chamber each party will go their own way."

"How do we get from here to the outside world?" the Doctor
enquired.

"Through the Halls of Shadows. Isn't that what you have
suggested, Carlomon?"

"Correct," Carlomon said, a bitter smile deepening the dark
lines on his face. "Unless your Lieutenant can find another
way."

"Eskar?" Trajan said surprised, "now where is that brute?"

He swung round as Royan burst into the room with the handful
of guards who appeared to have acquired the habit of
trailing the big Calidan commander everywhere like a class
of admiring students. The Lieutenant's first reaction was
that of exuberance.

"Captain! You are looking much better!" But his face
immediately clouded over with deep anxiety. Trajan appeared
fit as he walked briskly about but his haggardness told
everybody he was not well and fast action was needed.

"Have you anything to report, Lieutenant?" Carlomon asked.

"Regretfully nothing of significance. All the exits are
blocked by debris and the fire is out of control. The only
way, as you have said, is going back to the sewers to find
the trap-door which will open on the Halls of Shadows."

"Right," said Trajan, "let us do exactly that. Please lead
the way, Carlomon."

As the others filed after Carlomon, Trajan held himself
back, lingering for moments on the threshold of the control
room, his thoughts with the body in the corridor. ?Trajan,
cousin, you must stay alive? Quietly Trajan closed the door
and sent a message to Kolmarin, telling him to muster his
people.

Royan was waiting for him anxiously at the mangled porthole
and as soon as Trajan had joined them they continued their
journey through the sewers. They had marched for about
thirty minutes or so when the patter of light feet
approached them from the many side tunnels. Byrull clasped
his gun nervously. "What can it be this time?" he whispered
hoarsely.

"Hold your fire!" Trajan called out. "They are the ones I
have been calling, the D'Orrians."

"What?" Doctor Reball asked openmouthed, "the little people!
Of all wondrous creations."

A multitude of the stocky and hardy people swarmed before
their eyes like busy chattervoles. Their leader was at their
head and he greeted Trajan with a flourish of his sinewy
arm.

"They will come with us," Trajan told the group, "what is
left of them, anyway. Many of them have also perished in the
explosions and fire, and at the bridge they will be the
first ones going home."

The D'Orrians considerably increased the size of their group
and they were a cheerfully loquacious people. The gloomy
surroundings echoed with their constant high-pitched
chattering and their optimism gave their companions renewed
hope. The speed of their process seemed to quicken and
before long they stood beneath the hatchway.

They climbed through the hatch one at a time until the whole
group stood assembled beneath the dusky tall ceilings of the
Halls of Shadows. It seemed that ages had past since Trajan,
Royan and their commanders had first set foot in these
halls, and nothing appeared to have changed, only that the
gloom hung thicker like spiderwebs of black fog. It dampened
their refound high spirits and the uncanny silence deadened
the sounds of their voices. Even Carlomon looked around with
uncharacteristic nervousness.

"I don't like it here," Royan muttered but Trajan grabbed
his arm.

"Don't lose heart, Eskar, home is very near. Listen, can you
hear the rain? I can see it and I see our rescuers. My
brother and my uncle are among them. They have come back for
us!"

A sparkle of excitement shone in his purple-grey eyes, and
his clear voice rendered courage to the group. "Listen
everyone, the end of our journey is in sight. Do not think
of anything else, do not think for a minute of what may or
may not be inhabiting these halls. Think only of home. Carry
on, Carlomon!"

Carlomon walked forward, guiding the oddly assorted assembly
through the vastness of the halls. They sent puffs of fine
dust up into the air with each step, while the tall pillars
looked down like giants of stone. They marched on in a
brisk, smooth pace but impatiently Trajan urged them to go
even faster. The fever had risen to his head, parching his
throat and dulling his senses and he longed to be back with
his people.

They had no idea of time or space, walking for seemingly
endless hours through weaving shadow-patches, going round
and round in monotonous unending circles from one
indifferent chamber to the other, until at last a doorframe,
resembling a shield, loomed up from the sombre dusk.

Doctor Reball rushed to the frame, patting the walls along
the sides. He continued his attempts for several moments
without anything happening. Frantically he beckoned Trajan
to him and said in a low voice,"The switches do not seem to
work, they are stuck."

Trajan frowned in annoyance. "Try once more. Can you make
repairs?"

Doctor Reball straightened his back, moodily shaking his
head. "They are power controlled switches. A short circuit
may have damaged the wiring inside, and with the main power
room out of function, it is going to be very tough trying to
repair them. But of course, we can always try, but it will
take some time."

He broke off abruptly, his glazed eyes staring into the
darkness closing around them and said in a faltering voice:
"Do you hear something, a sound like buzzing far beyond."

Trajan heard it too, the singsong hymns of a non-existent
chorus drawing closer and closer, and strengthening with
each passing moment. Carlomon uttered a curse and Trajan
grabbed his arm savagely. "They are not supposed to exist.
What are they? Tell me now, Carlomon!"

A sardonic spasm convulsed the glacial face. "If living
forth as black smog means an existence, then they do exist.
What you hear are the whisperings of the Unliving of the
Smaze, snared and brought here by Niklaedus as invokers of
supreme madness. He was an enthusiastic proponent of
indoctrination through hallucination while I prefer
indoctrination through mental persuasion."

Trajan fumed. "You mean torture! Torture and corruption,
like those Unliving before you!"

He looked round, a fury in his eyes. With each beat of the
pulse the mesmerizing melodies crescendoed and the ghastly
music began to exercise mental control over the group who
crowded together frightened and numb. From the encircling
shadows darker shadows emerged, like columns of smoke rising
slowly from a black swamp.

"Stand back! All of you, stand clear of the door!"

The company hastily withdrew, leaving Trajan to face the
steel frame alone. He raised and stretched his right arm,
his palm cupped as if holding a bowl and in a blue flash
Starglory manifested and hurled forth bolts of lightning
that shattered the massiveness of the shield. The glow of
Starglory coated Trajan from head to toe and they could only
see his contours as an umbra in the centre of radiance. He
lowered his arm and the brilliance dispelled like a bubble
of air.

The shield was no longer there, only a scorched opening in
the wall and Trajan half-turned, pointing with his finger to
the group of D'Orrians: "You first, hurry now, go through
it."

With a sweep Dego Kolmarin ordered his people to go through
the opening. Byrull rushed to the front, pointing to the
advancing silhouettes humming their tunes of terror: "Look,
they are coming after us!"

Trajan pushed him towards the opening with his elbow, a blue
sparkle of softly shining Soul still pulsating in his
fingers. "Do not worry, Starglory in my hand will keep them
at bay." Turning quickly, he observed that everyone had gone
to the other side and he scaled through the aperture in his
turn.

"Is the Equation open?" he enquired of Doctor Reball

"Yes," the Doctor confirmed in a weary voice, "but we cannot
afford to wait any longer, the power is growing weaker by
the minute."

In the toroidal chamber on the other side of the wall, which
reared to a ceiling as high as a domed crest of a hill and
spread left and right as vast as a block of buildings, they
cast their eyes with awe upon the palpitating enigma of the
IsoMén Equation, a vertical ovality, the Body, that
contained a dazzling globe, the Soul, a cascade of Light
pulsing into Elsewhere, into Nowhere.

A sapphire streak lanced out from Trajan's hand, piercing
the vertical Body and slicing through the beating Soul. In a
span of a second the IsoMén Equation murmured to a darkened
husk.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!" Doctor Reball cried out.

Trajan was as stunned as the others. Starglory had attacked
the IsoMén Soul of its own volition. Then he knew why.
"Relax, Doctor. The IsoMén is still working. It's only the
malignant Soul that has been destroyed, for your own good.
If you had taken one step into that Soul, you'd wish you
hadn't been born."

Trajan approached the leader of the D'Orrians and spoke to
him gravely: "Dego Kolmarin, the way to home is there but I
must warn you, you came in bondage and there is every
likelihood that you will return in bondage. Remain here and
your people will be free for the rest of their lives."

"Trajan Schurell," Dego seized his hand, trembling with
emotion. "We were born there and we will return there to
die. We may have a chance of finding our way back to our
homelands where we live free and happy. Yours is a
magnificent place but we have been yearning for home ever
since we were brought here."

He slipped an object of dubious angularity into Trajan's
hand. "Take this, Dego's Stone, one of a pair. Take it as a
remembrance of a grateful people. Remember us, we will never
forget you."

"My thoughts are forever with you," Trajan said and he gazed
at the remainder of the group, particularly where his
Lieutenant stood apart, in the midst of Carlomon's former
guards.

"What is going on over there, Lieutenant?"

"These boys wish to stay, Captain. They have no family
beyond and no one to return to. I will vouch for them."

"You softhearted oaf. Do you realize the Tres-Tiorem may
decide that you become their custodian for life? What do you
want to do with them?"

"I will take care of them. The agrobiologists of Calitre
will train them well."

"So be it, they are your responsibility. Now everyone else,
make your choice, this very minute!"

Trajan nodded grimly. "Of course you, Governor General.
Stand in line behind your D'Orrian labourers, they will be
crossing over first."

"Have you ever considered my offer?" Carlomon said and when
Trajan declined to answer, the dark face creased into its
usual acid smile. "This is not a final farewell. We will see
each other again, you can be sure of that, Trajan Schurell,
Bearer of Starglory!"

Lisaloran stood before Trajan, looking at him long and hard
as if trying to burn his image into her mind. "What is it
going to be, Trajan?"

"Nothing can bring my father, or Glynmoran back to life,"
Trajan answered her, "but you are still my uncle's Dama."

Her face as stony as his, Lisaloran said: "I see that your
honour remains strong. Your mother has reared you well. She
will come between us. So shall it be. You have your destiny
to fulfil and I have mine. Farewell then, do not forget that
once you have yielded to me and for short moments I was your
victor."

Trajan eyed her sombrely as she walked across to the side of
Carlomon and so did Ecelyn, watching the proud Dama take her
place beside Byrull, who had earlier parted with the words:
'Forgive me, Ecelyn, forgive me for not being a better
husband for you, but I cannot face shame and the process of
redemption in Iucari-Tres. I am unable to compensate for the
lives that have been lost, but you will be fine. You have
always managed to instil pity, and so survive.'

Doctor Reball remained at Ecelyn's side, and the choice was
made. Trajan raised his hand. "The D'Orrians will lead the
way and the rest of you follow in their wake."

Starglory lifted from his hand and blended its radiant Soul
with the dull Body of the Equation. After a brief and fierce
process of fusion, the turbulence smoothed out into a
peaceable rainbow. The D'Orrians and their leader turned
their faces for the last time to the friends they were
leaving behind, and their ringing voices conveyed their
final message of gratitude and farewell. The remainder moved
behind the D'Orrians and Trajan called out: "Good luck with
Lisaloran Trevarthen, Governor General Carlomon. You will
need it!"

"Captain," Royan called to him, "what about those--those
chanting abominations outside."

"They bore me with their songs. It is time to ring the
curtain down. Hairy scruts, on second thought, why bother to
soil our hands with dirt. Stand aside, Royan! Let them pass
through the gap." He waved with Starglory in his hand. "Go
ahead, filthy tar-shades. Go after your master, pollute the
air somewhere else. Be off with you!"

For a second there was a sensation as though a vile density
oozed through the opening in the wall and billowed through
the chamber like a slimy column of tar. The throng spouted
into the colourful Equation and the Unliving was never seen
again in Iucari-Tres. Trajan then directed Starglory to
destroy this End of the Equation and afterwards he tucked it
back inside him with relief since repeated use of the
Lightforce was eating up his strength.

When the noise and the flares of destruction subsided they
stood around in silence and Doctor Reball said: "It was a
smooth passage. Judging from past experiences I am sure they
are safely across. May the Councillor and the Dama find
whatever they are looking for."

A faint tremor rumbled somewhere in the stronghold and the
floor shuddered beneath their feet. Doctor Reball urged
nervously, "We must get away. Soon everything will be
smashed into smithereens."

Trajan told Royan briskly: "Gather your protégés. We will go
further down the halls to the archway and the escalator."

Rapidly they traversed the remaining length of the tall
chambers, straight to the small room from where the
commanders had first begun their ordeal. Inside, Doctor
Reball activated the mechanism, which allowed the walls of
the room to slide into a circular motion with the result
that the door through which they had entered came to a
standstill on the opposite side. Beyond the doorway, they
found with great relief the old archway. The long tunnel
wove before them, dark and empty, but the string of lights
were still burning, and they hastened on until they reached
the terminal with the escalator in sight.

Dr. Reball gave a loud whoop. Royan bellowed a cheer and his
new ardent followers cheered with him. Jubilation was
quickly stifled by a heavy odour of musk in the air. One of
the youngsters grunted in dismay and pointed with a shaking
hand. In the deeper recesses of the half-circle landing a
multitude of red dots punctured the shadowy darkness.

They sped to the foot of the escalator and Trajan, taking
the silver pistol in his hand, ordered Doctor Reball,
"Quickly, you and Ecelyn, go outside and find the rescuers
of the Force and the commanders. Alert them of the danger."
He glanced at Royan. "We are critically short on ammunition.
Exact timing is called for, Eskar. Do not aim at one or two
but wait until the whole horde has come into view, then we
will synchronize the blast of your rephar with our guns."

"Understood. All right, mates, we go backwards up the
escalator in rows of three. Wait for the order."

The escalator had moved them only a few steps up when with
an ear-rending roar the first wave of Mutations spilled out
from their hiding-places. Trajan waited until the foremost
line of Mutations had set their paws on the bottom stairs,
and gave his command. The volley of automatic fire,
intermingled with the fiery crimson of Royan's rephar beam,
wreaked havoc within the ranks of the Mutations and they
were momentarily thrown into confusion.

"Hurry!" Trajan shouted, "go through the door, everyone!
Eskar, is there a way to put the escalator out of action?"

Royan sighed and ruefully shook his head: "I doubt it,
Captain. The energy cell of my rephar is ready to snuff out.
I have been pushing it to extreme limits."

Trajan pushed the Lieutenant through the steel door and they
sprinted after Carlomon's former guards who had now passed
through the narrow corridor unmolested. A rumble, more
powerful than the one before, rolled upwards from deep
underground. Moments after that, a more prolonged tremor
rattled the walls around the house.

"Hurry up!" Royan panted, "the whole building is coming down
on us!"

Tossing aside the heavy curtains they stood once more in the
wrecked guest hall of the Byrull palace with its roof shred
to ribbons. The scenario before their eyes took their breath
away and what last vestiges of staunch spirit they had. A
deluge gushed down from the sky. They were caught between
unrelenting waters in front and butchering Mutations coming
up the stairs from behind.

"We have to stay together!" Royan yelled through the
thunderous rain.

An explosion smothered his words. The whole mansion groaned
and shook, and blocks of upper structures came tumbling
down. Another blast came seconds after. The steel door
buckled, the roof crumpled and like uprooted trees they were
cast away into the pounding torrent.