The Corridors of Time by Poul Anderson Page A

anything.’
    ‘Uh—’ Lockridge shook his head, trying to clear it. For the first time, he understood what had gone on. He really hadn’t planned
     events. Auri’s plight triggered the rage pent in him; thereafter, drilled-in habits had carried him along. Unless, of course,
     the Tenil Orugaray were right in believing that a mancould be possessed by Those who walked this wilderness.
    ‘Why did you come back?’ he asked.
    ‘To seek you, who would lift the ban on me,’ Auri said naively.
    That made sense, though it dashed his ego a little. She’d acted in what seemed her own self-interest. And maybe not too recklessly,
     even, judging by how she had given the Yuthoaz the slip afterward. Only by pure bad luck had she been heard and captured;
     then pure good luck brought Lockridge to the very band that had seized her.
    Luck?
Time could turn on itself. There was indeed such a thing as destiny. Though it might be blind – Lockridge remembered Brann’s
     final word. ‘You came to me … and warned me!’ An ugly thrill went down his nerves. No! he spat at the night. That was a lie!
    Defiance brought decision. He paid Auri scant heed, while his plan and the somber sense of fate grew within him, but he heard
     her talking :
    ‘Many got from Avildaro into the forest. I know where some are hidden, those I left to return to you. We can seek them out,
     and afterward another village of the Tenil Orugaray.’
    Lockridge braced himself. ‘You shall,’ he said. ‘But I have a different place to go.’
    ‘What? Where? Beneath the sea?’
    ‘No, ashore. And at once, before Brann thinks to send men there. A forsaken dolmen, half a morning’s walk to the south. Do
     you know it?’
    Auri shivered. ‘Yes.’ Her voice grew thin. ‘The House of the Old Dead. Once the Tenil Vaskulan lived in that place and buried
     their great folk; now only ghosts. Must you indeed? And after sunset?’
    ‘Yes. Have no fears.’
    She gulped. ‘Not – not if you say so.’
    ‘Come, then. Guide me.’
    They began to walk, through choked brush and down deer trails saturated with murk, he stumbling and swearing, she slipping
     sprite-like along. ‘You see,’ he explained when theystopped to rest, ‘My, uh, my friend, The Storm, is still in Brann’s hands. I must try to get help for her rescue.’
    ‘That witch?’ He heard a whisper of tangled locks as Auri tossed her head, and a sniff that actually made him chuckle. ‘Can
     she not look after herself?’
    ‘Well, the rescue party should also be able to chase the Yuthoaz home.’
    ‘So you will come back!’ she exclaimed in a rush of gladness. Somehow he didn’t think it was selfish. And had her return to
     Avildaro been entirely so? He felt uncomfortable.
    Little else was said. Progress was too difficult. The slow hours passed; and the night, short in this season near midsummer,
     began to wane. Stars paled, a grayness crept between the trees, the first twitter of birds came faint and clear.
    Lockridge thought that now he could recognize the path he had followed with Storm. Not far to go___
    Auri stiffened. Her eyes, luminous in the small dimly seen face, widened. ‘Hold!’ she breathed.
    ‘What?’ Lockridge gripped the ax till his palm hurt.
    ‘Do you not hear?’
    He didn’t. She led him forward, turning her head right and left, parting withes with enormous caution. Presently the sound
     reached him too: a crackle in the brush, far behind but ever more near.
    His gullet tightened. ‘Animals?’ he hoped foolishly.
    ‘Men,’ Auri told him. ‘Bound our way.’
    So Brann had dispatched a patrol to guard the time gate. Had the Yuthoaz been as woodscrafty as this girl, they would have
     been waiting there for him. As matters stood, he had a chance.
    ‘Fast!’ he ordered. ‘Never mind silence. We must reach the dolmen ahead of them.’
    Auri sprinted. He came behind. In the misty twilight, he stumbled over a log and into a stand of saplings. They caught at
     his garments