Wielding a Red Sword Read online

  "I have a tentative plan of escape," Mym said carefully. "I can't tell you exactly what it is, because news might reach Satan." He flicked his eyes toward the snake without moving his head, hoping that she would understand the signal while the snake missed it. "But it requires that I meet with the various leaders of the souls of Hell—not the ones doing Satan's business, but the ones who are genuinely interested in human welfare. I presume that, though these souls are damned, they are not totally evil. Can the back route get me to these souls, and can you guide me there?"

  Her eyes also flicked toward the snake. "Yes."

  How comprehensive an answer was that? Whatever it was, he had to accept it.

  They climbed down out of the cave and to the ledge, and the snake slithered after them. That was fine with Mym; he did not want to get rid of the snake, because then Satan would have to assign some other creature to snoop, and that one might be more effective. Also, the snake served as the pretext for him not to speak his true plan aloud, so that he did not have to share it with Ligeia. He disliked having to distrust her, but she was serving as an agent of Satan, and he could not be quite, quite certain of her ultimate loyalty.

  It was nervy business, walking down the narrow ledge in the dark, but necessary. They proceeded slowly for hours, winding around the mountain, and finally, as dawn was threatening, they reached the base.

  They were both tired, so sought a place to rest and sleep. To be tired in the spirit form was no more anomalous than dawn in Hell. Mym's body seemed fully physical to him; it even had natural functions, requiring him to borrow the cover of a bush for a minute. It seemed that if one ate in the Afterlife, one also digested and eliminated; if one labored, one became tired.

  They formed a bower—a shelter of boughs—under a leaning tree, making a bed of leaves and fem. They lay down to sleep—and the bugs located them. This was Hell, of course; naturally there were obnoxious vermin.

  But Mym simply enfolded Ligeia in his cloak, and the bugs could not get to them. Of course this made it more difficult to sleep, because she was very warm and soft against him. He had sought her because he was in need of a woman, but he wasn't quite sure of her, and of course a princess was not a concubine, so he did not want to move things along too hastily. But that did not mean that he could simply ignore her contact and sleep.

  "A penny for your thoughts," she murmured.

  "No sale."

  "Are you sure you don't desire me?"

  "Of course I desire you!" he snapped. "But—"

  "That's nice," she said. "But don't worry; I won't corrupt you." And she fell asleep.

  How nice for her. Did she, as a pampered princess, even know what male desire signified? She had to, for she had been threatened with rape both as a mortal and as a spirit. But probably she assumed that nice men were different and expressed desire only as an intellectual compliment with no physical component. Well, he would try to honor that notion. Certainly if he had really wanted concubinage without content, he could have had it in Lilith/Lila.

  Lilith. Lila. Ligeia. He had not before realized how similar those names were. Could it be that—?

  No! That was preposterous. Yet, insidiously, he had to wonder. What a fool Satan would be making of him, if he had been tricked into trapping himself in Hell for the same creature he had renounced in Purgatory! If he was now torturing himself with desire unfulfilled for a damned amoral demoness!

  He could phase in to her and learn her identity for certain. He knew that he should. But still he refrained. Suppose Ligeia turned out to be genuine, and his intrusion betrayed his distrust? How would she react to him then? He would not blame her for feeling betrayed.

  Was he weighing the risk of his actual betrayal against her mere feeling of betrayal? There could be no question of the appropriate course to take. Yet he could not.

  She stirred. "Why are you tense?" she asked.

  "Just thinking."

  "Are you sure you won't tell me?"

  "You would not like it."

  "I don't see how your thoughts could be worse than the rest of Hell."

  She had a point. "I am wondering whether you are who and what you say you are."

  "I am," she said, then reconsidered. "Oh, you mean you doubt? I suppose that's sensible. Who else do you think I might be?"

  "Lilith, the demoness."

  She became fully alert. "The one who went to the cave with the demons? You think I—?"

  "I told you you wouldn't like it."

  "I don't! But I suppose you are right to wonder. Demons can assume any form, so she could make herself look just like me. But how can I prove my identity?"

  "There is a way," he said reluctantly.

  "That's what men always say, isn't it? But I understand that demons are better at it than genuine people are, so—"

  "As the Incarnation of War, I have certain powers. One of them is the ability to—"

  "To incite violence," she said. "You are doing a fine job of it now!"

  This was exactly the kind of entanglement he had wanted to avoid. But now he was in it and had to slog through. "Also to phase in to people, to occupy their bodies and minds and grasp their thoughts."

  "Oh." She considered. "I thought you meant another kind of penetration."

  "I would not practice either on you without your consent," he said stiffly.

  "This phasing in, so you can read my mind—does it mean I can also read yours?"

  That notion startled him. "I'm not sure. When I have done it with mortals, they were unaware of my intrusion. But I could project my thoughts to them. I suppose, if one realized what the situation was, he might have read my thoughts on his own."

  "Then phase in to me," she said.

  "But if you should be a demoness—"

  "Then Satan will know all your secrets. But you seek to know mine. Turnabout is fair play, isn't it?"

  It did make sense. He had distrusted her; she could distrust him. He wanted to trust her; surely she wanted to trust him. The phasing in would resolve all doubts, one way or the other.

  "But do you realize that this can be a more intimate association than any physical one could be?" he asked, still hesitant.

  "I would rather be known than unknown, "she said simply.

  So he phased in. For a moment he had trouble orienting, and was afraid that it wouldn't work when there was no mortal body to anchor to. But then he realized that in the mortal realm he had used the physical body to fix the spiritual essence in place; on this occasion it could be done directly.

  He overlapped her—and discovered that not only was it possible to do it without the physical bodies, it was much easier, because there was no flesh to get in the way. Just like that, her thoughts were his.

  She was genuine. All that she had told him was true. Her mind was so straightforward, and the merging so complete, that there was absolutely no doubt.

  So that's the plan! he thought with surprise.

  No, that's not your thought, it's mine, the thought followed immediately. Ligeia's.

  The rapport was so thorough that he had mistaken her thought for his own! He had never anticipated success like this! Why had she even been concerned about—wait, whose thought was this? His or hers?

  Does it matter?

  Confused, Mym disengaged. They lay there, both their bodies radiant with the experience, assimilating the enormous impact of the prior few moments. Truly, they had known each other for an instant.

  Now Mym discovered that he could recollect greater detail in Ligeia's memories than he had been aware of before. He seemed to have acquired part of her mind.

  "It was right to let Rapture go, though you still loved her," Ligeia said.

  "You share my memories?" he asked, knowing it was so.

  "Your memories become you," she said. "You are a decent man. I can see why you are wary of the demoness; that business with the talking head—"

  "I had no idea that the phase would be that complete, Li!"

  "I know, Mym
, I know," she said.

  "How well we know each other so suddenly!"

  "It was worth it."

  "It was worth it," he repeated.

  "I think we shall very soon be in love."

  "Very soon," he agreed.

  "For the first time in my Afterlife, I am glad I went to Hell."

  "I know." He kissed her. The acquaintance that should have taken months had been accomplished in seconds.

  Now, secure in their knowledge of each other, they slept.

  Ligeia did know her way generally about Hell. She had found a map of it in a book Satan had shown her. The book described the various regions and tortures available; the showing of it had not been any favor to her, but a threat. She had been terrified by the threat, but she had remembered the pretty map.

  "The River Lethe originates near the center, and that is where Satan's private retreat is," she said. "So we should discover its source spring near here."

  "Lethe—the water of forgetfulness?" he asked. "My mythology is not yours, but I seem to remember that."

  "True. If we thirst, we had better not drink that water, for we will not even remember our mission thereafter."

  They walked along, and the snake followed, and they found the spring, and thirst smote Mym, but he knew he could not drink. The clear water bubbled up from the white sand below, forming a lovely pool surrounded by rich vegetation. There were several canoes on a rack beside it. This was evidently a wilderness retreat.

  "Odd that such a thing should exist in Hell," Mym remarked.

  "It's a trap. Unwary souls who flee the work gangs find their way here and choose to boat and swim in the water, and—"

  "I see. Satan does love to torture insidiously."

  "But we can use a canoe," she said. "It doesn't matter if we get splashed, as long as none of it gets in our mouths. Of course it might not be smart actually to swim in it."

  "Not smart at all," he agreed.

  "The rivers lead to every major section of Hell. Some of them are pretty nasty. That's why there isn't much traffic on them."

  They lifted a canoe and turned it over. It was made of aluminum—or whatever passed for it in the Afterlife—and was light. They set it in the water and climbed carefully in. The snake joined them. There were two aluminum paddles with it, too. It floated very nicely on the water.

  "I would hardly need to drink the water to forget," Mym said. "This is such a pleasant place."

  "Appearances can be deceptive," she said.

  They paddled. Mym had had experience with this sort of thing and had the rear seat; he kept a straight course by sculling, while Ligeia paddled on either side in front.

  They guided it to the outlet, where the flow of the river commenced. The water was calm; only the slightest current was felt. The vegetation grew richly up to the shore, and trees overhung, so that the stream seemed to be passing under a green canopy. Small fish swam below, and turtles were at the fringe. It was hard indeed to remember that this was Hell!

  But soon the stream entered a marshy region where water plants encroached. The plants seemed innocent—hyacinths—but Mym was cautious. This was, after all, Hell.

  Sure enough, as they glided close, he saw little feeler threads writhing out from the plants, reaching toward the canoe. There seemed to be sap flowing that resembled saliva. Those plants were hungry for more than water.

  "Stay clear of those plants," he warned Ligeia.

  "The hungrycinths," she agreed. "They will leave nothing but bones, if they get the chance to feed."

  Mym wondered how a spirit-person could have bones. But surely he did, here in Hell. He liked this quiet stream less.

  They found a channel by the plants, but there were more and more of the things, and soon they could go no farther without forging directly through. "I think we'd better do it rapidly," Mym said. "If we travel swiftly enough, they won't be able to get hold."

  They gathered momentum and struck the bank of plants at speed. The drag was immediately felt. The canoe slowed, partly from the sheer clogging mass of plants, and partly from the latching-on of their hairlike tentacles. They continued paddling, but soon became bogged down.

  Now the plants seemed to crowd in, extending their thick leaves over the sides of the canoe, reaching in with their feelers. Sap fairly drooled.

  Mym lifted his paddle high and brought it down beside the canoe, smashing at the plants. They were crushed down with a sick vegetable squishing sound. He smashed again, at those on the other side, freeing what he could reach of the canoe. "Knock them away!" he called to Ligeia. "Then we can move on through!"

  She lifted her paddle and brought it down. But her motion was ineffective and dislodged only a few plants. "Harder!" Mym called. His own plants were crowding in again.

  She struck harder—and water splashed up against Mym. He shielded his face instinctively. His right arm was spattered—and where the droplets touched, spots of numbness developed. The water of Lethe was making his very flesh forget!

  "Don't splash!" he cried.

  "Oops!" She restricted her effort and managed to get most of the plants unclung.

  "Now paddle forward," he said. "We can do it."

  They both worked hard, and the canoe began to move reluctantly. Now the action of the paddles tended to clear the plants from the sides. But it was a lot of work for excruciatingly slow progress.

  At last they forged out of the band of plants and into clear water. But there were more hungrycinths ahead. Mym peered about, trying to spy the route of least resistance, but all looked equally bad. No matter which way they went, there would be a struggle.

  They made the struggle, navigating interminable rafts of vegetation, and at last came to a weather-worn landing. "This is our first stop," Ligeia said breathlessly. "Why don't I wait in the canoe while you talk to the man?"

  He glanced at her, surprised. He was sure she did not want to be separated from him, here in the hind region of Hell. Then he saw the snake and realized that they could not afford to have it reporting on the true nature of his dialogue with the leader of the damned souls. He trusted Ligeia completely now, and she trusted him—but neither of them trusted the snake. So she was volunteering to keep the snake here, providing him the necessary privacy. This was a brave and good gesture on her part.

  "Yes, I can see you are tired," he said. "You stay here and rest, and I will return as soon as I can."

  Then Mym went and found the leader of the damned souls, who was engaged in shoveling muck out of a canal ditch. Naturally the muck seeped back in almost as fast as he got it out; that was the nature of Hell.

  Mym introduced himself briefly, then phased in to the skeptical man. The contact, as it had been with Ligeia, was instantly perfect, and the man understood the full nature of Mym's plan and acquiesced. Much sooner than would otherwise have been the case, Mym was back at the canoe.

  "We'll have to ask the next," Mym said shortly. That was for the benefit of the snake, who would think that Mym had not gotten what he wanted—news of a secret exit from Hell.

  They paddled on downstream, and in due course the River Lethe debouched into a river of an entirely different nature. This one was largely frozen. Ice rimmed its shore and closed in on the center current, leaving only a narrow channel. Icicles hung from the neighboring trees.

  "What in Hell is that?" Mym inquired, surprised.

  "The River Kokytus," Ligeia informed him. "The waters of lamentation."

  "I lament the moment I committed myself to this voyage," Mym muttered. "We'll freeze!"

  "Doesn't your cloak protect you?"

  "It should. But what about you?"

  "I may have to help you paddle from the rear seat."

  They nudged the canoe into the frozen Kokytus. Immediately a cutting crosswind developed, shoving the canoe sidewise toward the ice. Ligeia had to put her paddle out to stave off a collision, and Mym did the same. Now the wind tore at the woman, whipping her hair across her face, quickly chilling her.


  "Come back here with me!" Mym cried. "Before you freeze."

  "But then the ice—"

  "You can't endure that cold wind long!"

  She had to agree. She made her way back to him, and got under the cover of his cloak.

  But now the canoe was weighted down at the back, and lifting out of the water at the front. The wind turned it about so that the front overrode the ice. They were unable to paddle it forward.

  "I'll have to go back to my seat," Ligeia said, shivering with the expectation. "It's the only way we can—"

  "No! I won't have you freezing!"

  "But you have to talk with—"

  But Mym had a notion. "Let's see if we can travel on the ice!" he exclaimed.

  They tried it. They paddled madly and rammed the canoe up farther on the ice. When it would go no farther, they moved up to the front end, overbalancing it and lifting the rear out of the water. Then some scraping and shoving with the paddles got the remainder onto the ice.

  After that it wasn't hard. They simply poled the canoe across the ice, downstream. The liability had become an asset.

  But when they came to the landing for the next meeting, the problem of cold resumed. If Ligeia remained with the canoe, she would freeze. But if she did not—

  "Actually, that snake's torpid," Mym said. "It's coldest in the bottom of the boat, where it touches the ice."

  Ligeia checked. The snake was curled up, trying to husband some warmth, but obviously not succeeding. "The poor thing," she murmured. "I'd better get it to somewhere warmer."

  "That reptile is—" Mym started, but couldn't finish, because he didn't want the snake to know he knew.

  "Cold," she finished. "I don't care what kind of creature it is, it shouldn't be allowed to freeze." She reached into the canoe and carefully picked up the snake.

  Mym was disgusted. He would have been glad to be rid of the snake in a coincidental manner, so that Satan would not catch on. At the same time, he appreciated the softer nature of Ligeia, who, however foolishly, was being caring.