The Warlock Enraged-Warlock 4 by Christopher Stasheff Page B
Authors: Christopher Stasheff
Tags: Fiction, General, Science-Fiction, adventure, Fantasy, Juvenile Fiction, Epic, Science Fiction - General, Science Fiction; Fantasy; & Magic, Fiction - Science Fiction, Fantastic fiction
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reported. "Something doth press upon the minds of all the people here—
and at ours, too. Only, with us, it cannot enter."
"Then it knows all it really needs to know about us, doesn't it?" Rod growled. He frowned, and shrugged. "On the other hand, it already did. Here, I've got to have a feel of this."
It wasn't as easy for him as it was for Gwen and the kids. They'd grown up with extrasensory power; they could read minds as easily as they listened for birdsongs. But Rod's dormant powers had just been unlocked three years ago. He had to close his eyes, concentrating on the image of a blank, gray wall, letting his thoughts die down, and cease. Then, when other people's thoughts had begun to come into his mind, he could open his eyes again, and see while he mind read.
But he didn't have to look about him this time. He could feel it, before he even heard another person's thoughts. When he did, he realized that the thoughts resonated perfectly with the pressure-current. It was a flowing wave, rocking, soothing, lulling; but modulated on that lethargic mental massage was a feeling of vague unease and suspicion—and riding within that modulation, as a sort of harmonic, was the central conviction that the sorcerer Alfar could make all things right.
Rod opened his eyes, to find his whole family staring at him—and for the first time on this trip, fear shadowed the children's faces.
Rage hit, hot and strong. Rod's whole nervous system flamed with it, and his hands twitched, aching for the throat of whatever it was that had threatened his children.
"Nay, husband." Gwen reached out and caught his hand.
"We need thy wisdom now, not thy mayhem." He resented her touch; it pushed his anger higher. But 78 Christopher Stasheff
he heeded her words, and concentrated on the feel of that beloved hand, whose caresses had brought him so much of comfort and delight. He let it anchor him, remembering how his rage had made him do foolhardy things, how his wrath had played into the hands of the enemy. He took slow, deep breaths, trying to remember that he was really more dangerous when he was calm, trying to regain the harmony of his emotions. He concentrated on his shoulders, relaxing them deliberately, then his back, then his upper arms, then his forearms, then his hands. Anger wouldn't help anybody now; anger would only destroy—everything but the enemy. He shivered as he felt the rage loosen, and drain away; then he swallowed, and closed his eyes, nodding. "I'm... all right, now. Thanks, darling. Just... be careful about grabbing me when I'm like that, okay?"
"I will, my lord." She released him, but held his gaze with her own.
"Okay." He took a deep breath, and looked up at the children. "You know what hypnosis is."
"Aye, Papa." They stared at him, round-eyed.
"Well, that's what we're facing." Rod's lips drew back into a thin, tight line. "Somebody's sending out a mental broadcast that's putting everybody's conscious minds asleep. This whole town is in the early stages of mass hypnosis." The children stared, appalled.
Rod nodded. "Someone, or something, up there, is a heck of a lot more powerful a projective telepath, than we've ever dreamed of."
"But it hath not the feel of a person's mind, my lord!" Gwen protested. "Oh, aye, the thoughts themselves do—
but that lulling, that pressure that doth soothe into mindlessness—'tis only power, without a mind to engender it!" Rod had a brief, lurid memory of the genetically altered chimpanzee he'd had to fight some years ago. Actually, it was its power he'd had to fight; the poor beast had no mind of its own. The futurians, who were continually trying to conquer Gramarye, had just used it as a converter, transforming minute currents of electricity into psionic powerblasts that could stun a whole army. When they'd finally found the chimp, it had been one of the ugliest, most obscene things he'd ever seen—and one of the most pitiable. Rod
THE WARLOCK ENRAGED 79
shuddered, and
and at ours, too. Only, with us, it cannot enter."
"Then it knows all it really needs to know about us, doesn't it?" Rod growled. He frowned, and shrugged. "On the other hand, it already did. Here, I've got to have a feel of this."
It wasn't as easy for him as it was for Gwen and the kids. They'd grown up with extrasensory power; they could read minds as easily as they listened for birdsongs. But Rod's dormant powers had just been unlocked three years ago. He had to close his eyes, concentrating on the image of a blank, gray wall, letting his thoughts die down, and cease. Then, when other people's thoughts had begun to come into his mind, he could open his eyes again, and see while he mind read.
But he didn't have to look about him this time. He could feel it, before he even heard another person's thoughts. When he did, he realized that the thoughts resonated perfectly with the pressure-current. It was a flowing wave, rocking, soothing, lulling; but modulated on that lethargic mental massage was a feeling of vague unease and suspicion—and riding within that modulation, as a sort of harmonic, was the central conviction that the sorcerer Alfar could make all things right.
Rod opened his eyes, to find his whole family staring at him—and for the first time on this trip, fear shadowed the children's faces.
Rage hit, hot and strong. Rod's whole nervous system flamed with it, and his hands twitched, aching for the throat of whatever it was that had threatened his children.
"Nay, husband." Gwen reached out and caught his hand.
"We need thy wisdom now, not thy mayhem." He resented her touch; it pushed his anger higher. But 78 Christopher Stasheff
he heeded her words, and concentrated on the feel of that beloved hand, whose caresses had brought him so much of comfort and delight. He let it anchor him, remembering how his rage had made him do foolhardy things, how his wrath had played into the hands of the enemy. He took slow, deep breaths, trying to remember that he was really more dangerous when he was calm, trying to regain the harmony of his emotions. He concentrated on his shoulders, relaxing them deliberately, then his back, then his upper arms, then his forearms, then his hands. Anger wouldn't help anybody now; anger would only destroy—everything but the enemy. He shivered as he felt the rage loosen, and drain away; then he swallowed, and closed his eyes, nodding. "I'm... all right, now. Thanks, darling. Just... be careful about grabbing me when I'm like that, okay?"
"I will, my lord." She released him, but held his gaze with her own.
"Okay." He took a deep breath, and looked up at the children. "You know what hypnosis is."
"Aye, Papa." They stared at him, round-eyed.
"Well, that's what we're facing." Rod's lips drew back into a thin, tight line. "Somebody's sending out a mental broadcast that's putting everybody's conscious minds asleep. This whole town is in the early stages of mass hypnosis." The children stared, appalled.
Rod nodded. "Someone, or something, up there, is a heck of a lot more powerful a projective telepath, than we've ever dreamed of."
"But it hath not the feel of a person's mind, my lord!" Gwen protested. "Oh, aye, the thoughts themselves do—
but that lulling, that pressure that doth soothe into mindlessness—'tis only power, without a mind to engender it!" Rod had a brief, lurid memory of the genetically altered chimpanzee he'd had to fight some years ago. Actually, it was its power he'd had to fight; the poor beast had no mind of its own. The futurians, who were continually trying to conquer Gramarye, had just used it as a converter, transforming minute currents of electricity into psionic powerblasts that could stun a whole army. When they'd finally found the chimp, it had been one of the ugliest, most obscene things he'd ever seen—and one of the most pitiable. Rod
THE WARLOCK ENRAGED 79
shuddered, and
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