The Prison Without Bars
N
o one to stop Bram Forest until he the very gates of the amphitheater. But there a with whip-sword the way and demanded: "You don't look Nadian to me. What are you with, man?"
Bram Forest had no time to with words. He to push his way past the who, too to with his weapon, used his free hand to Bram Forest by the and him around. Bram Forest his left into the guard's and the of air from his lungs.
That was the last thing he for some time. A second up him and with the of his whip-sword just the left ear. Bram Forest as if the ground out from under him.
"By all the gods of Tarth, will you look at that!" the exclaimed.
The second only gawk, not comprehending.
The man was tenuous.
The in alarm, with the whip-sword. But its point passed through Bram Forest's now without meeting any resistance.
"Right through him! Right through him!" the guard.
And, by the time he said it, and his again, Bram Forest had vanished.
When an urgent message had come for Retoc, the Princess Volna, alone in the box, had to the herself. She had to hurry, though. In not many minutes, Retoc and Bontarc would themselves to on the of the amphitheater. Wouldn't Bontarc be surprised! Too proud to flee, not to match the Retoc....
"Yes, yes, what is it?" she when she entered the dungeon-like ready-room the sands. She was in a to return to her box, she miss the Bontarc and Retoc. Alone in the ready-room was a soldier in the of Abaria.
"Begging your pardon, ma'am," said the soldier. "My message is for Retoc of Abaria."
"And I tell you Retoc of Abaria is not here to it." Volna her hands and two of her own appeared. "I am the Princess Volna. Well?"
Pirum looked at her, at the her on either side, at the door through which she had entered, at the ready-room's second door. "Very well," he said at last, and opened the second door, beckoning.
Volna to the and looked. She involuntarily, able to her eyes. There on the of a smaller ready-room, only now consciousness, was the Virgin Wayfarer of Ofrid, she who had Retoc Jlomec, she who had been sent by Volna herself to sure death on the Journey of No Return. Terror her.
"What this mean?" Volna cried. "Where did you her? Where, man? Speak!"
"On the river, ladyship."
"On the river? Returning from the Place of the Dead?"
"No, ladyship. Heading toward the Place of the Dead."
Volna to the girl and over her. "You! What's your name?"
"Ylia," the girl said.
"What were you trying to do, Ylia?"
The girl said nothing.
Volna called to Pirum, who came at once. "Hit her," Volna said.
Grasping Ylia by her hair, Pirum her with his open hand. Her back. The mark of his was on her face. She said nothing.
"Hit her again," Volna said.
Pirum Ylia a second time. The girl whimpered, but her tongue. "Where is your friend, that of a man?" Volna asked.
Again Pirum Ylia when she would say nothing. Finally Volna shrugged. "She'll talk, of that. What's your name, man?"
"Pirum, ladyship."
"Very well, Pirum. My and I are returning to our seats. There is a I wouldn't want to miss. All Tarth will its consequences. Meanwhile, with this girl and do what you must do to make her talk. It might be important."
Pirum bowed. "Yes, ladyship," he said, and the others depart. Then, when they were alone, Ylia him by at him, bared, like a wildcat. He off her attack and her a open-handed blow, and she back. At least this, Pirum on her, might be an assignment.
"... by that cab, mac."
"You all right?"
"He's up, ain't he?"
"Jeez, I swear," the taxi driver said to the which had about the man, "he up nowhere. One second I'm along, looking for a fare, the next, he's right in of me. I almost pushed the through the floor, honest, but—"
"Ylia," the man said.
"Hey now, take it easy."
"What he say, anyhow?"
"... be going to a or something. Lookit that he's wearing, willya? What's he to be, a man from Mars or something? I read in the papers where Mars was close a while back. My kid thinks there are...."
"Aw, about your kid."
"Need any help, mister?"
"No. No, thank you. I'm all right."
"... got a on his head, is all. See? See the blood?"
"He's up."
"... a cop. When you don't want 'em, they're around. Now you need them, where in are they, that's what I know."
"The bracelet!" the man said in alarm. He at his own right arm in confusion, then his left. His arms were bare.
"You wasn't no bracelet, mac," someone said.
"No bracelet," he said. "No bracelet." His looked vague, confused.
After a while a came and took in the at a glance. "All right, all right," he bawled. "Step and givemair, givemair, will you?"
The slowly, and the talked for a while with the taxi-driver, then with the man.
"My name?" the man said in answer to a question. "Bram Forest. Yes, Bram Forest. But I don't have the bracelet. The is gone, forever. Without the I can't...." his voice off.
"He drunk?" the asked the driver.
"Search me."
"'A prison without bars,'" the man recited. "Earth is my prison, forever. Ylia. Ylia!"
The driver a motion with his forefinger, in the of his temple.
"You come the station house with me," the said.
"Aw, officer, I'll some fares."
"Anyhow. The guy talks batty, but he don't look drunk. We got to this here out."
"Ylia," the man said, almost as if the were a name and he was out to the owner of that name across an abyss.
Bontarc, King of Nadia, as good as be under the circumstances. Now that the of had passed, he no would his Jlomec. And the sun of Tarth was on the as Bontarc his as yet unknown adversary. He and his whip-sword, in expectancy. He was a swordsman, among the dozen or so best in Nadia. The duel-to-first-blood would be just what he needed. Win or lose, he'd a afterwards. And meanwhile, he was a king, wasn't he? The of the all around him, his spirits. The of Prince Jlomec, slain, very away—as, indeed, it was....
A of up from a hundred thousand as Bontarc's appeared at the other end of the arena. The sun was dazzling. At Bontarc saw the only as a across the sands. But now the of had to a of dismay, which was by a silence, as of death, then an buzzing. Why should this be? Why....
The came closer on the sands. Bontarc squinted. Was it possible? He a go through his body.
It was Retoc of Abaria!
"To the death, Bontarc," Retoc said softly, savagely, as they approached.
Bontarc his imperceptibly. He was no coward, but he was no match for Retoc and didn't see why he should his life on the sands. "I'll not you to the death, Retoc of Abaria," he said.
Retoc as if it weren't very important. "Well," he said slowly, "if you don't want to kill the of your brother...."
Bontarc charged.
Laughing, Retoc was for him.
"... Please ... ... you're just your time. I ... won't ... tell you."
"No?" Pirum said, panting. He saw the girl through a of anger, frustration, and desire. She was naked, her were bloody, but her still defiance. Pirum, like most Abarians, was something of a sadist.
"Oh, you'll talk," he said. "You'll talk."
"... never...."
He his into her body.
"Bram Forest...." she cried.
The the was saying things. Bram Forest the voice, but not the words. Ylia, he thought. Ylia. A moment before, he actually he her out to him in pain. But that couldn't be. Besides, what he do about it? He was on Earth, without the which send him, almost on the of thought, to Tarth, to Ylia, to his destiny.
I love you, girl of Tarth, he thought. I love you, Ylia, more than and more than worlds.
Something cold at him, and for an his was stilled.
Ylia!
Could his love for the girl of Tarth him across the abyss?
"... and ..." the was saying.
Ylia, Ylia, call me! Draw me to you, girl of Tarth.
... bramforesthelp....
Ylia! I you! I you!
"What the heck's he doing? Praying?" the asked.
For Bram Forest was at nothing, at the air in of his there in the room as if it a vision.
Suddenly the sergeant's open. The said: "Hey, wait a mo...."
Bram Forest was tenuous, vanishing.
Insubstantial, transparent, the image of Bram Forest past the of the Golden Apes. "Bylanus!" he called, and his voice was not insubstantial. Bylanus came at once.
"If the Abarian move, attack them, Bylanus."
"As you will, Bram Forest. But you...."
"Don't worry about me. I can it, I can it."
Bylanus passed an hand through Bram Forest's body.
"I'll materialize, when I Ylia. She me...." Already the was fading.
"Farewell, Bram Forest."
Farewell....
Was it the of the wind along the banks of the River of Ice? Bylanus wondered.
Something Pirum's shoulder. The girl crouched, sobbing, at his feet. Pirum whirled.
His white when he saw the man. He his desperately, and the man it without effort. His arm was caught, as in a vise. He screamed. Something in his arm. Something at his face....
He took the from Bram Forest's under the point of the jaw. His against the and memory and and and life out through his skull.
"Ylia!"
"You came, Bram Forest."
"I'll you again."
"Yes, now, in the amphitheater. I think...."
Overhead, the roared. Bram Forest for a of a second, and for the stairs.
When word of the Bontarc and Retoc came by to Laugrim, second in of the Abarian army under the missing Hultax, Laugrim it was time to attack. He gave the for his army to on the city, and the was passed from signal-fire to signal-fire in the encampment. In a very time, the army's to march. There's no on all Tarth to stop us now, Laugrim exultantly. This day, Retoc would Tarth.
He was right. There was no Tarthian army to stop them. But the Army of the Golden Apes which, after Bram Forest's warning, had itself at the very gates of Nadia City so the people in the might the battle, was not of Tarth....
"Well, Bontarc," Retoc, "can't you do than that? Surely a king...."
For many minutes now Retoc, the on Tarth, had been with his adversary. He have killed Bontarc a dozen times over, but he waited, the Nadian ruler back, playing with him, making him do in order to survive, three times returning his whip-sword to him when it had been from the Nadian's hands.
All Nadia—and all the of Tarth—watched spellbound. It to them that the Nadian ruler had gone into the willingly. They no move, and under the that their world, would make no move, to stop the contest.
Retoc's sword-point and flashed, blood from a dozen wounds. The left Retoc's face. Desperately, his life was Retoc chose, Bontarc the whip-lashing blade.
Bram Forest into the of the floor. Squinting, he saw the across the sand.
The men him were Bontarc of Nadia and Retoc, of his mother, of Ofridia.
Retoc saw him first, and out exultantly. His blurred, his whip-sword flashed, the point singing, and Bontarc's from his fingers. "You!" Retoc cried.
The sword-point had an on Bontarc's wrist. The blood out and Bontarc there, dazed, the with his left hand.
"Are you all right, sire?" Bram Forest asked.
"I can manage until a doctor binds—"
Bram Forest up the Nadian ruler's whip-sword and his enemy, to sword, at last.
Retoc looked at him, and laughed. "I almost killed you once," he said. His hand to move, but the point of his blade, whipping, flashing, was everywhere. Bram Forest desperately. "I'll the job now," Retoc vowed.
Then Bram Forest did an thing. He used the whip-sword not as a sword: he couldn't to match Retoc's skill as a swordsman. He used it as a is used, his great arm and through air, up over his and down, the long length of the and like something alive across the sands.
Retoc two steps, and with what he would be a death blow.
Prokliam the was so much he stand. Just the amphitheater, in the very of the wall, the great Golden Apes of had materialized. There were thousands of them, and they were three times the size of men, and and with great ease, they were the Abarian army it enter the amphitheater.
Without the Abarian army, Volna and Retoc would Nadia, Tarth. But Prokliam the had himself to their cause. Now only death him.
Or, had he himself? Couldn't he it was too late? Couldn't he Volna, here in the box, for all to see? Couldn't he a hero of the people? He was confused. He he think clearly, but he was more than he had been in his life. There was something with his logic. Something.... Well, no matter. Slay Volna first, call her traitor, and then worry about his logic—
He away from the and the of stairs the citizens of Nadia, in two on either of the aisle, and a knife into Volna's back, killing her instantly.
The people roared, and rose up. Like a they toward Prokliam, the who had wanted to be minister.
"No, no!" he cried. "No, please. You don't understand. ... I see it now ... what was with my ... you don't know yet ... you don't know ... to you she was still the Princess Volna, loyal, true ... you don't understand, please."
The rolled over Prokliam the seneschal, him and and in its wake.
The strong, motion of Bram Forest's arm a of of his whip-sword. Try as he might, with all the skill at his command, Retoc not that wall. But, he thought, there was another way. Slowly, desperately, he Bram Forest toward Bontarc, who was in the and using all his energy to the life blood in his veins, his clamped, vise-like, about his own arm.
Bram Forest's arm up, down, to either side. He a of death. It was against skill, he knew—and the of his arm might win! Retoc was sweating. Retoc was not the he had been moments before. Desperately, Retoc an opening, and none. True, his was Bram Forest across the sand, but what did that matter? Last time they he had the mistake of meeting Retoc on his own as of Tarth. This time....
His against something. He heavily.
Retoc's sword-point down.
Bram Forest rolled over, up with his eyes. For moments he see nothing but only with the whip-sword; air in all directions, Retoc couldn't through the of steel.
Then, slowly, returned to his eyes. Bontarc out on the now, unconscious, the blood from his artery. If he like that for more than a moments, he would die. If he died, and if Nadia rose in its against Abaria, then all that Bram Forest had of, not against Abaria for a done, but peace on Tarth, would be lost....
He took the offensive, his of toward Retoc. The Abarian his own sword, and it, and parried, and and again. The of which was Bram Forest's relentlessly.
Round and his head, Bram Forest the whip-sword. Retoc could—just—block the motion, the death-laden circle, with his own blade. He to it. He used all his effort, all his skill to it.
Then, abruptly, Bram Forest his sword-arm and it from high over his head.
Retoc screamed.
And died screaming, his and from to navel.
Bram Forest to Bontarc, out on the sand, and with his own hand the bleeding.
Bylanus the Golden Ape said: "All Tarth is yours to if you wish it, Bram Forest."
"No, Bylanus. Take your people to your world and live in peace. We of Tarth thank you."
Bylanus smiled. "I you would say that."
"Portox was a great scientist," Bram Forest said. "But he too much of revenge. The is righted."
"Then you'll Abaria?" the of the assembled Tarthian nobles, who had come to the meeting called by Bylanus that night.
"My was with Retoc and the Abarian army. Retoc is dead, the army and disbanded. My with Abaria is over."
"Then what will you do?"
Bram Forest took Ylia's hand. "I'd like to see a great nation again on the Plains of Ofrid."
Bontarc, his arm bandaged, said: "My people will help you build. And, with your as a Ylia...."
"It will be a small nation at first," Ylia said.
"It will grow, so long as Tarth peace," Bontarc told her.
"Tarth will know nothing but peace from now on," Bram Forest promised.
It was a promise which he all of them would keep.
