THE WITCH
There were of light in the marking the plants, some at ground level, others tall as saplings. On other nights Shann had that radiance, but now he in as a position as possible, marking each of those as he to the of sleep and at the same time plan out his route.
He had settled in a of shadow, the him. And he that the of the animal's would his own when the time came to move. One arm across his middle was in to him an of small which he had by most of the of his thongs. The must be set in place soon!
Now that he had a path to the point all light plants, Shann was to move. The Terran pressed his hand on Taggi's in the one the was to obey—the order to where he was.
Shann sat up and gave the same to Togi. Then he out of the hollow, a worm's progress to that narrow way along the top—the path which anyone or anything up from that sea gate on the beach would have to pass in order to the by the half-built outrigger.
So much of his plan was upon luck and guesses, but those were all Shann had. And as he at the of his snare, the Terran's pounded, and he at every out of the night. Having all the of his net, he at a last knot, and then to not only with his ears, but with all his of mind and body.
Pound of waves, of wind, the of some bird.... A regular splashing! One of the fish in the lagoon? Or what he awaited? The Terran as as he had come, for the where he had down.
He there breathless, his pumping, his mouth as if he had been racing. Taggi and a nose against Shann's arm. But the no sound, as if he, too, that some the of the valley. Would that other come up the path Shann had trapped? Or had he been wrong? Was the enemy already him from the other beach? The of his was in his hand; he this waiting.
The ... his work on it had been a careless botching. Better to have the job done right. Why, it was perfectly clear now how he had been mistaken! His whole work plan was wrong; he see the right way of doing out as clear as a in his mind. A picture in his mind!
Shann up and moved uneasily, though neither a sound. A picture in his mind! But this time he wasn't asleep; he wasn't a dream—to be used for his own defeat. Only (that other not know this) the pressure which had planted the idea of new work to be done in his mind—an idea one part of him as fact—had not taken from his move. He was to be under control; the Terran was sure of that. All right, so he would play that part. He must if he would the into his trap.
He his stunner, walked out into the open, paying no now to the of light through which he must pass on his way to the path his own had already to the beach. As he went, Shann to what he would be the of a man under compulsion.
Now he was on the the downslope, against his to turn and see for himself if anything had behind. The was all wrong, a job which he must make at once so that in the he would be free of this prison.
The pressure of that other's will stronger. And the Terran read into that the which he would be part of the enemy's character. The one who was sending him to his own work had no that the was not malleable, to be used as he himself would use a knife or a ax. Shann downslope. With a small of he that in a way that other was right; the pressure was taking over, though he was this time. The Terran to will his hand to his stunner, but his on the of his knife. He the as panic in his head, him from within. He had the other's power....
And that panic into open fight, making him his plans. Now he must free from this control. The knife was moving to a lashing, by his hand, but not his will.
A gasp, a of him, but neither was his his dismay. That pressure off; he was free. But the other wasn't! Knife still in fist, Shann and ran upslope, his in his other hand. He see a shape now writhing, fighting, against a light bush. And, that the might win free and disappear, the Terran the in the beam, of Throg or enemy reinforcements.
The other crouched, by the of light. Shann stopped abruptly. He had not up any picture of what he had to in his snare, but this was as to him as a Throg. The light on the was off a skin which as if scaled, with the of in and of color from the the chest, about upper arms, around and thighs, as if the a house of as part of a body. Except for those patterned loops, coils, and bands, the had no clothing, though a about the middle supported a pair of and some odd in loops.
Roughly the was more than the Throgs. The upper were not too Shann's arms, though the hands had four of equal length of five. But the were nonhuman, closer to in contour. It had large eyes, yellow in the of the flash, with of green for pupils. A nose with the to make a snout, and above the a V-point of and until the it and to a pair of wings.
The no longer struggled, but sat in the of the Shann had set, the Terran as if there were no in through the of the to the man who it. And, enough, Shann no toward its as he had upon the beetle-Throg. On he put his on a and walked into the light to the thing out of the sea.
Still Shann, the one and gave an absent-minded to the it wore. Shann, that gesture, was by a wild surmise, leading him to study the more narrowly. Allowing for the of bone, the skin; this was delicate, graceful, in its way beautiful, with a of which up his suspicions. Moved by no pressure from the other, but by his own will and of fitness, Shann to cut the line of his snare.
The to watch as Shann his and then out his hand. Yellow eyes, since his appearance, him, not with any of or dismay, but with a which was upon a in its own superiority. He did not know how he knew, but Shann was that the out of the sea was still confident, that it no it did not of any possible from him. And again, enough, he was not by this arrogance; he was and amused.
"Friends?" Shann used the speech by Survey and the Free Traders, which upon the proper of voice and to project meaning when the were foreign.
The other no sound, and the Terran to wonder if his had any of speech. He a step or two then at the snare, the away from the creature's ankles. Rolling the into a ball, he the over his shoulder.
"Friends?" he again, his empty hands, trying to give that one word the proper inflection, the other read his peaceful in his if not by his speech.
In one lithe, movement the arose. Fully erect, the Warlockian had a appearance. Shann, for his breed, was not tall. But the native was still smaller, not more than five feet, that V of just Shann's shoulder. Whether any of those at its be a the Terran had no way of telling. However, the other no move to any of them.
Instead, one of the four-digit hands came up. Shann the touch of on his chin, across his lips, up his cheek, to at last press on his at a spot just the eyebrows. What was of a sort, not in or in any of thoughts. There was no of enmity—at least nothing to be called that. Curiosity, yes, and then a doubt, not of the Terran himself, but of the other's ideas him. Shann was other than the native had him, and the was disturbed, that self-confidence a little ruffled. And also Shann was right in his guess. He smiled, his growing—not at his on this top, but at himself. For he was with a woman, a very woman, and someone as in her way as any girl be.
"Friends?" he asked for the third time.
But the other still a wariness, a mixed with surprise. And the message which passed them then Shann. To this Warlockian out of the night he was not the proper pattern of male at all; he should have been in of the other of her sex. A than an of should have his response, by her standards. At first, he a of anger at this of his; then her won, but there was still no reply to his question.
The no longer them. Stepping back, her hands now for one of the at her belt. Shann that movement carefully. And he did not trust her too far, he whistled.
Her came up. She might be dumb, but she was not deaf. And she into the as the answered his with growls. Her profile Shann of something for an instant; but it should have been golden-yellow of with two patterns the snout. Yes, that small he had in the of one of the ship's officers. A very old Terran legend—"Dragon," the officer had named the creature. Only that one had a serpent's body, a lizard's and wings.
Shann gave a start, aware his had him careless, or had she in some way him into that of memory for her own purposes? Because now she some object in the of her fingers, him with those yellow eyes. Eyes ... eyes.... Shann the of the wolverines. He to his stunner, but it was too late.
There was a about him the rocks, the with its plants, the night sky, the of the torch. Now he moved through that as one walks through a nightmare, with an as if through a flood. Sound, sight—one after another those were taken from him. Desperately Shann to one thing, his own of identity. He was Shann Lantee, Terran breed, out of Tyr, of the Survey Service. Some part of him those with against an almost which to that of self, making him nothing but a tool—or a weapon—for another's use.
The Terran fought, but fiercely, on a which was him, in a way that his another's commands.
"I am Shann—" he without speech. "I am myself. I have two hands, two legs.... I think for myself! I am a man——"
And to that came an answer of sorts, a of will at his resistance, a will which to him ebbing, it a of bewilderment, of a of concern.
"I am a man!" he that as he might have with one of the he had used against the Throgs. For against what he now his were as as blasters. "I am Shann Lantee, Terran, man...." Those were facts; no them from his mind or take away that heritage.
And again there was the of the pressure, the recoil, which only be a to another upon his last stronghold. He his three to him as a shield, for others which might have a of rebuttal.
Dreams, these Warlockians in and through dreams. And the opposite of are facts! His name, his breed, his sex—these were facts. And Warlock itself was a fact. The earth under his was a fact. The water which around the was a fact. The air he was a fact. Flesh, blood, bones—facts, all of them. Now he was a identity in a body. But that was real. He to it. Blood from his heart, his and emptied; he to those processes.
With a shock, the which had him vanished. Shann was choking, in water. He out with his arms, his legs. One hand against stone. Hardly what he did, but for his life, Shann at that and his out of water. Coughing and gasping, drowned, he was weak with the panic of his close with death.
For a long moment he only to the which had saved him, and dazed, as the water about his body, a at his legs. There was light of a here, of green which with the same light as the of the world, for he was no longer under the night sky. A rock-roof was but over his head; he must be in some or under the surface of the sea. Again a of panic him as he trapped.
The water to at Shann, and in his condition it was a to to that pull; the more he it the more he was exhausted. At last the Terran on his back, trying to with the stream, sure he no longer it.
Luckily those of space above the surface of the water continued, and he had air to breathe. But the of that ending, of being under the surface, at his nerves. And his away the last of the spell which had him, him into this place, it might be.
Was it only his imagination, or had the swifter? Shann to the speed of his passage by the way the of green light by. Now he and to swim slowly, as if his arms were weights, his a to his lungs.
Another of light ... larger ... across the over head. Then, he was out! Out of the into a so that its was like a above his head. But here the of light were brighter, and they were in odd groups which had a familiar look to them.
Only, than overhead, there was a not too distant. Shann for that haven, up the last of his strength, that if he not it very soon he was finished. Somehow he it and gasping, his on than any of the world, his into it for purchase to his on. But when he collapsed, his were still in water.
No be on that sand. But he that he was no longer alone. He his hands and with painful up his body. Somehow he it to his knees, but he not stand. Instead he back, so that he them from a position.
Them—there were three of them—the dragon-headed ones with their slender, jewel-set in this light, their yellow on him with a which did not approach any emotion, save that of a cold and limited wonder. But them came a fourth, one he by the patterns on her body.
Shann his hands about his to still the of his body, and them with all the he muster. Nor did he that he had been here, his as to their will, as had been that of their or messenger in his on the island.
"Well, you have me," he said hoarsely. "Now what?"
His out over the water, were from the of the cavern. There was no answer. They him. Shann stiffened, to to his and to that identity which he now was his against the powers they used.
The one who had somehow him there moved at last, around the other three with a of in her manner. Shann his as her hand to touch his face. And then, that she her of communication, he submitted to her tips, though now his skin under that light but pressure and he from the contract.
There were no this time. To his a itself in his brain, as clear as if the question had been asked aloud: "Who are you?"
"Shann...." he vocally, and then into thoughts. "Shann Lantee, Terran, man." He his answer the same which had him from to their complete domination.
"Name—Shann Lantee, man—yes." The other those, "Terran?" That was a question.
Did these people have any of space travel? Could they the of another world beings?
"I come from another world...." He to make a clean-cut picture in his mind—a in space, a ship free....
"Look!" The still rested his eyebrows, but with her other hand the Warlockian was pointing up to the of the cavern.
Shann her order. He those of light which had so familiar at his sighting, studying them closely to know them for what they were. A star map! A map of the as they be from the of Warlock.
"Yes, I come from the stars," he answered, with his voice.
The from his forehead; the around to glances, which were some with the other three. Then the hand was again.
"Come!"
Fingers from his to his right wrist, there with strength; and some of that together with a new energy from them into him, so that he and his as the other him up.
