Kirlian Quest (13 page)

"Climb!" Psyche cried.

Herald jumped, reached up, caught hold of the rim of a branch-wheel and ran his feet up the trunk until one leg hooked over a spoke. This was one thing his human host was better at than his Slash body. He hauled himself about, getting up on the wheel as Caesar cruised by just beneath. Safe at last!

Or
was
he safe? The monster now attacked the tree. Caesar tilted his bulky host-body back, lowering his rear wheel, and bracing his side wheels so as to shift the front wheel upward. The bottom feeder-wheel also wedged against the ground, while the top general-purpose wheel kept out of the way. The elevated front wheel revved up much faster than it could have when in contact with the ground, its sharp spikes blurring. It was angled so as to be almost parallel to the ground.

Those whirling spikes moved into the trunk of the tree, slowly. Bark flew out as contact was made. The wheel was now a circular saw, cutting into the wood.

Herald peered down, alarmed. Could Caesar actually do it? The trunk was massive; it would take a long time to cut through it, perhaps hours. Long before the tree fell, the hunting party should be back here. So wasn't this effort futile?

The sawing sound changed. Fluid spurted out of the trunk, splashing on the monster. And Herald realized that the tree was hollow, filled with water, with a relatively thin shell. It would not take long at all to slice through.

"I am afraid it is the end," Psyche said, seeming sad rather than afraid. She no longer had her Shield of Arms shield; she must have flung that aside in order to reach the tree faster. "I had thought it would be by fire, but maybe this is much the same."

Herald moved as close as he could and put his arm around her small shoulders. "The hunters must soon return," he said. "They will deal with the monster."

"No," she said, her elfin face turning to him. Her eyes seemed larger than before, more brightly orange. "No, Herald, I feel it, I know it somehow: We must deal with this ourselves, or we are lost."

Herald felt the strength of her conviction manifesting in her aura. Rightly or wrongly, she
believed
. As Smallbore of Metamorphic had believed in her vision. And he bad to believe too.

Psyche's face was close to his. He moved closer. Their lips touched in a fleeting kiss. He felt the pulse that traversed her aura at that touch, and drew back. This was becoming something other than reassurance, and he knew enough to alter course immediately. He would soon be leaving this planet and this Galaxy, and had no personal reason to become involved with this young female—assuming they all survived the immediate threat.

"There have to be alternatives," he said. "What will stop the monster?"

"We must jam that wheel!" Psyche said, looking down. Her face was now a very pale blue, with little clench-muscles showing around her mouth.

It seemed to Herald that the tree was already shrinking, as its supportive fluid drained out. He hoped that was mere imagination.

"Tree-spokes!" Whirl said. How the Sador sapient had gotten up here was a mystery; wheeled creatures could hardly climb trees. Maybe Psyche had helped haul him up. Could the Earl have winched up along a line? "If you can hold me in place, I shall saw them off."

Herald braced himself on one side, and Psyche on the other, each with feet braced against a branch-wheel rim and hands holding on to one of Whirl's side wheels. Whirl angled forward, his front wheel coming down to rasp against a spoke. He lacked the massive fighting cleats of the monster, but his rim was able to cut slowly into the wood. He severed one spoke, but it remained anchored at the branch hub. Then he shifted about and got another, and then a third. Then they all moved so Whirl could get the other ends. Herald bound the freed spokes together with the tie from Psyche's erstwhile ponytail, then carefully oriented the bundle above the monster's saw wheel. "This had better work," he murmured.

Even the strength of the monster could not keep the saw going continuously. The spikes chewed out a large cut, requiring much power. Caesar had to pause every so often, to let his axle cool and to reorient for cutting further around the trunk. Nevertheless, the tree was creaking, on the verge of collapse. Herald waited for the saw to stop, then dropped his bundle.

It fell neatly into the saw, jamming between the spokes. And Caesar was in trouble. He could not turn that wheel freely while the bundle was in it, and could not shake it out. He had to lower the wheel to the ground and maneuver.

"It will not hold him long," Whirl said worriedly. "We must prepare another wheel-block."

"No good," Herald objected. "He won't be caught twice by the same trick." He swung down from the branch.

"What are you doing?" Psyche cried in alarm.

"Stay up there," Herald told her. "If that block will hold long enough...." He dropped to the ground beside Caesar, and clasped both hands to the stalled rim. Amazed at this audacity, the monster heaved. But now Herald's human weight was on the wheel, further immobilizing it. His feet left the ground, but he did not let go.

Psyche screamed, thinking his attack suicidal. But there was nothing she could do.

The real battle was invisible. Herald brought his aura to bear against that of Caesar. The monster's Transfer aura
was
low; it was probably around seventy at the start of his exile to Keep, but now was barely ten. When it sank to the level of the animal host, Caesar would die, becoming no more than the animal he had occupied. His protégé back in System Capella had inflicted a cruel but perhaps fitting punishment on the former king. Caesar himself had sent many innocents to this very situation. Herald was able to derive this from the nature of the aura; the personality was far more monstrous than the host.

Now, because it had come to a direct choice between Caesar's life and Herald's, Herald was undertaking an exorcism. He was using the unparalleled power of his aura to drive the other aura out of the body. Two hundred thirty-six against ten—a gross mismatch. But it was not easy to expunge an entrenched aura, and only a specialist in exorcism could accomplish it. This was not a task Herald enjoyed. It was the negative face of the bright coin of healing. For exorcism meant death of the subject. It was not harmful to the host or to the host's natural aura, but to the alien aura.

Caesar, suddenly aware of the threat, fought savagely. He could not resist long in aural combat, any more than Herald could survive long in physical combat. The monster had to return to the physical level of strife before he lost his mind—literally. If he could crush or slice Herald's Solarian body, killing it, Herald's aura would lose
its
base and be unable to pursue the attack. Or if Caesar could shake Herald off, breaking physical contact, he could then escape. But that would mean death for Herald, because the savage king would immediately charge again and kill him. And while killing would take only a second, exorcism required minutes. So Herald had to hold on to the immobilized wheel now; he would have no second chance.

Caesar threw him about, and rolled, trying to crush the slight Solarian body under the stalled wheel. But the Sador host was not equipped to roll
across
its own wheel; it was made to be stable in almost all situations. So though Caesar could lift and lower his front wheel, he could not put it flat on the ground.

Meanwhile, Herald's devastating aura invaded the animal's body, closing in on the diminishing region commanded by the king.

Caesar lifted the wheel and shot forward, trying to crush Herald against the trunk of the tree. It was an excellent tactic, but the bundle of tree-spokes remained lodged, and that took the brunt of the shock. There was just enough clearance to save Herald's body. That much was luck, not planning.

Now Caesar twisted about and started across the meadow, carrying Herald along. But the battle was concluding. Herald's aura closed in on the final nucleus.

I will give you riches!
Caesar cried through his aura, when he understood that he was lost
Power! Things of the flesh!
It did not occur to him that Herald might not be interested in things of the flesh, or that he would distrust the proffered bribe. This failure to appreciate the higher qualities of some individuals had led to Caesar's downfall before, and he had not profited from the experience. In this sense he had always been a beast.

Herald did not deign to respond. He captured the nucleus and shoved it—out. Caesar was dead.

Herald's battered Solarian fingers let go at last as the animal stopped, and he fell to the ground in front of it. The king was gone, but the natural animal of Sador remained—and it could still kill him. The bundle of spokes dropped out of the wheel.

But a cry sounded in the distance. The animal backed off, lowered its alternate wheels, and sped away.

There was a halloo of pursuit, but Herald just lay where he was. In moments Whirl was beside him. "Do you survive, valiant Healer?" he cried.

"I survive. The monster is dead," Herald gasped weakly.

Now Psyche joined them. "You saved us," she said. "That was awfully brave, Herald, but how did you hang on so long? If the hunters hadn't come—"

"I exorcised it," Herald explained as she helped him up. He was conscious of the freshness of her body, her sweet odor, though she was speckled with dirt and sawdust. She was hauling him up with both arms about him, her mammalian breasts pressing against him as she exerted herself.

She froze, her eyes growing round. "Oh." Suddenly she was aware of what Herald was capable of doing, for he had come to exorcise the demon from
her
. Had she realized this before, she might not have kissed him.

"Oh, I don't care!" she said, and resumed lifting.

Herald found his balance and stood up, not wanting either to cause her to strain herself or to have her approaching father misunderstand their position again. Many more contacts like this, and Kade might well have reason for his suspicion. The Lady had some most attractive attributes.

"Only the Transfer aura suffered," he said. "The natural aura cannot be exorcised. Your own aura is natural. Not at all like that of Caesar of Capella."

"Gee, thanks," she said, laughing.

The Duke rode up, hand hovering near sword. "What happened?"

"I witnessed," Whirl said. "Allow me to clarify."

Herald exchanged glances with Psyche—and somehow knew that the Earl of Dollar would cover all details—except the kiss.

 

* * *

 

Herald had intended to have another session with Hweeh of Weew after the hunt, but he was too tired, bruised, and emotionally worn. Psyche and Whirl shared his condition, so all agreed to retire early. They funneled through the necessities of toiletry quickly and went to their separate slumbers. Herald fell asleep in moments.

He was awakened by the touch of Whirl's wheel on his shoulder. "It manifests," the Earl whispered, his communication wheel hardly turning.

Herald was instantly alert. Every part of his body was stiff and sore, but he ignored that. The room was dim, with a single swath of pale light from one of Keep's moons descending slantwise from the skylight, but he could see well enough. He did not pretend to misunderstand the Witness's meaning.

Psyche was on her feet, facing out the side window. On ground level the walls of the castle were solid and tremendously thick, emulating the massive defensive ramparts of the medieval Solarian originals, but here in the upper levels the embrasures let in a surprising amount of light. The moonbeam touched her head, highlighting it with an ethereal glow. She seemed unnaturally still, though even from behind he could make out the slight motions of her even breathing. Her hair trailed down her back like a shawl, and her little feet were bare.

Herald got to his feet and took a step forward. "Lady," he said softly.

The figure turned. "Did I wake you, Herald?" she inquired, seeming glad rather than regretful. "Will you come share the view with me? Lake Donny is lovely." There was a special, indefinable quality to her voice, like controlled joy.

"Yes." He crossed the room and came to stand beside her. As he did, he became increasingly aware of something aural, yet not alien. It was new to his experience; not threatening, but distinctly odd.

"I am glad you are here," she said. "I feel so
good
. As when you touched me first, but now it is of myself, not you."

Herald put his hand on her bare elbow—and froze.

Herald himself had the most intense Kirlian aura ever measured in the Cluster. This was no mere vanity; he had been tested many times, and had studied the records of the two hundred-K-range historical auras. He knew that the legendary barbarian Flint of Outworld would have deferred to him in this respect, and so would Flint's mistress of Slash, as each had an aura thirty intensities below his. He knew that Melody of Mintaka, as powerful and determined a lady as ever lived, would have deferred to him by at least ten intensities. Even the most obscure, respected, legendary figure of them all, Sibling Paul of Tarot, had probably had an aura less than Herald's own. Never in all the known universe, in all recorded time, had any entity of any Sphere matched the aura of Herald the Healer. He knew this did not mean he had any superior morality or intelligence or basic right to exist; mere chance had bequeathed to him the record. But he
was
, in the Kirlian sense, a freak.

Now he touched an aura significantly stronger than his own. Not an alien one, not a Transferee. It was Psyche's own individual aura, completely typical of her—except that it had a strength of at least 250 intensities. It was fifteen units higher than the highest Kirlian aura ever known.

This was the aura he had been summoned to exorcise. And of course it was impossible. No entity could drive out an aura higher than its own, and a natural aura in its own host could not be exorcised regardless. So his mission was suddenly manifested as doubly impossible.

Triply
impossible. For who would
want
to drive out the natural aura of an entity as completely sweet and innocent as Psyche?