The Dark World | Page 2

of them. The witchdoctor was
the first to sense something wrong and the awareness spread. I could
feel it spreading, as their attitude changed. They were afraid. Not of me,
I thought, but of -- what?
Before the helicopter came to take me back to civilization, the
witch-doctor had told me a little. As much, perhaps, as he dared.
"You must hide, my son. All your life you must hide.
Something is searching for you -- " He used a word I did not
understand. " -- and it has come from the Other World, the ghostlands,
to hunt you down. Remember this: all magic things must be taboo to
you. And if that too fails, perhaps you may find a weapon in magic. But
we cannot help you. Our powers are not strong enough for that."
He was glad to see me go. They were all glad.
And after that, unrest. For something had changed me utterly. The fever?
Perhaps. At any rate, I didn't feel like the same man. There were
dreams, memories -- haunting urgencies as if I had somehow,
somewhere left some vital job unfinished.
I found myself talking more freely to my uncle.
"It was like a curtain lifting. A curtain of gauze. I saw some things
more clearly -- they seemed to have a different significance. Things
happen to me now that would have seemed incredible -- before. Now
they don't.

"I've traveled a lot, you know. It doesn't help. There's always something
to remind me. An amulet in a pawnshop window, a knotted string, a
cat's-eye opal and two figures. I see them in my dreams, over and over.
And once --"
I stopped.
"Yes?" my uncle prompted softly.
"It was in New Orleans. I woke up one night and there was something
in my room, very close to me. I had a gun -- a special sort of gun --
under my pillow. When I reached for it the -- call it a dog -- sprang
from the window. Only it wasn't shaped quite like a dog." I hesitated.
"There were silver bullets in the revolver," I said.
My uncle was silent for a long moment. I knew what he was thinking.
"The other figure?" he said, finally.
"I don't know. It wears a hood. I think it's very old. And beyond these
two --"
"Yes?"
"A voice. A very sweet voice, haunting. A fire. And beyond the fire, a
face I have never seen clearly."
My uncle nodded. The darkness had drawn in; I could scarcely see him,
and the smoke outside had lost itself against the shadow of night. But a
faint glow still lingered beyond the trees... Or did I only imagine that?
I nodded toward the window.
"I've seen that fire before," I told him.
"What's wrong with it? Campers make fires."
"No. It's a Need-fire."

"What the devil is that?"
"It's a ritual," I said. "Like the Midsummer fires, or the Beltane fire the
Scots used to kindle. But the Need-fire is lighted only in time of
calamity. It's a very old custom."
My uncle laid down his pipe and leaned forward.
"What is it, Ed? Do you have any inkling at all?"
"Psychologically I suppose you could call it a persecution complex," I
said slowly. "I believe in things I never used to. I think someone is
trying to find me -- has found me. And is calling. Who it is I don't
know. What they want I don't know. But a little while ago I found out
one more thing -- this sword."
I picked the sword up from the table.
"It isn't what I want," I went on, "But sometimes, when my mind is --
abstract, something from outside floats into it. Like the need for a
sword. And not any sword -- just one. I don't know what the sword
looks like, but I'd know if I held it in my hand." I laughed a little. "And
if I drew it a few inches from the sheath, I could put out that fire up
there as if I'd blown on it like a candleflame. And if I drew the sword
all the way out -- the world would come to an end!"
My uncle nodded. After a moment, he spoke.
"The doctors," he asked. "What do they say?"
"I know what they would say, if I told them," I said grimly. "Pure
insanity. If I could be sure of that, I'd feel happier. One of the dogs was
killed last night, you know."
"Of course. Old Duke. Another dog from some farm, eh?"
"Or a wolf. The same wolf that got into my room last night, and stood
over me like a man, and clipped off a lock of my hair."

Something flamed up far away,