Many Worlds

Once they had reached the platform, she knelt before the throne as the inconstant citizens made obeisance to their new sovereign; and then she was taken into the palace, to the royal boudoir. Prince Hyperion arrived some time later. Without the dazzling armor, hefty boots and sweeping cloak, his was not an imposing figure — slight of build and boyish in visage, with bristly red hair and a sprinkling of freckles. But he pierced her with his spectral green eyes. And after he'd released her from the foot of the bed where she had been tied awaiting his presence, he consummated the union of conqueror and captive.

She was permitted to rest alone on the silk pillows for the remainder of the day. That evening, she was taken to the harem quarters. She took her place on the plush rugs with the other women, who greeted her with curious gazes. Beyond the tapestried walls was the world she had made, which she had ruled through many reigns, whose throne she'd fought to claim and then to defend in many wars, whose crown she had never lost through a contest of arms. Treachery and betrayal had cost Erynna her hard-won throne; and this time she'd surrendered without a fight.

The room dissolved.

"Rise and shine." The coordinator's shrill voice came through the interference loud and clear.

She yawned and stretched. It was time to go to work.

"Once, just once, I'd like to be a man."

Her sisters looked at her vacantly, then quizzically, and finally with expressions of concern.

"Not every time, just the one... What did I say?" Erinys demanded with her familiar pout.

"You said you'd like..."

"I know what I said!"

Chastened, little Miri shrank back into the cushions. But Erinys felt her face becoming flushed.

"A male? What brought this on?" The lovely Riisa stared through the sandy fringe that veiled her violet eyes.

Erinys studied the naked, reposing form, a sensuous alliance of finely chiseled facial features and sinuous curves. She always felt intimidated by the sharp intelligence behind that beauty.

"I was just thinking."

"You think too much." Riisa smiled with a tender disdain.

The other girls were beginning to shift uneasily on the plush velvet. Playful Seryth gulped back a giggle, with a penitent shrug of her slim shoulders. Shy Faera's eyes darted about the room, as if seeking refuge. Statuesque Lyssa frowned.

"Is it wrong to think?"

"About some things, yes."

Erinys could almost feel the sharp edge of Lyssa's tongue lashing her bare flesh.

"Why?"

Lyssa rolled her eyes. "It's not possible. We are what we are."

Erinys looked about the room, her eyes shifting from one girl to the next. Each reclined in her velvet nest of pillows, as veils of gossamer drapery wafted and swirled about them. The austere metallic gloss of the pearl-white lamps showed harsh against the fine fabrics, the delicate filaments that adorned the cushions and curtains, and the soft, smooth undulations of the nude bodies glowing under the lights with a placid, silken luster.

"You mean we remain exactly the same in every world?"

"Not exactly the same, but your essence is unchanged."

"Essence?"

"Incarnation... biopattern... avatar." Seryth looked pleased with herself.

"Whatever! It's just an expression. The essential nature is immutable."

"What does that mean?"

"We cannot change."

"Why not?"

"Have we ever?"

Lyssa shook her head vigorously. "This is mysticism. Why does it matter?"

"The men control the games."

Faera, ever so politely, cleared her throat. "Have they always?"

Lyssa shook her head vigorously. The ebony sheen of her exquisite skin took on a sudden rosy hue.

"Nothing changes, nothing can."

"There's no point in this," Riisa snapped. "It's like wanting to change the color of the sky."

"I like it blue."

"You know what I mean."

"Are you unhappy, Erinys?"

"No... of course not." Erinys wondered if anyone noticed the hesitation.

"So why do you want to change? I don't. It would no longer be me. We are exactly and only what we are, what we have always been."

Erinys had no answer. It was hard enough to remember where one existence had ended and another begun, what was new, what had never changed. And yet... She was sure she could recall a time when one could be whatever one wanted to be, and more. She remembered being very young, and growing up, and growing old. And she thought she remembered being a man! Was that even possible?

She remembered freedom, a time when people were other than slavegirls and masters, and far-off frontiers which offered ever more distant horizons. Maybe there really was an epoch when men and women roamed through many worlds, exploring and building as well as for sport. But then faint, disturbing images flickered in the back of her mind, of deserted streets and dark towers, of row upon row of capsules and consoles, of withering bodies hosting minds that dwelt in far-off lands, in endless dreams.

They were all deep within their thoughts when there was a muffled sound beyond the walls. A narrow slit appeared in the wall directly behind Miri, and her tiny figure scampered out of the way of the widening cleft. Two forms began to slowly take shape on the threshold. And by the time the two men had fully materialized, Erinys and her sisters had removed themselves from the comfort of the cushions. The tiles were cold and hard beneath their bare feet as they stood in silence, their heads bowed.

Stormrider was handsome and brawny, with eyes that glittered a pitiless ice-blue. His perpetual stubble was dark but tidily peppered with flecks of silver. A thousand adventures had not marred his striking visage. Redbeard was slightly built; Riisa and Lyssa were nearly a head taller. His face was pastel with a light sprinkling of freckles; his skull was shaven, but the wisps of beard were flame-red.

The girls were herded out of the room. It was cold in the corridor as they shuffled towards the pod room. Erinys's skin prickled, her body quivered with dread and excitement. It was time again for the games.

She peered anxiously towards the crest of the ridge. The long yellow grass waved languidly in the warm breeze; silver tendrils of cloud scudded across a crystal-blue sky. Everywhere was silence. No wildlife, not even birds or insects, dared make a sound. The hunters were close.

Erinys licked her parched lips, brushed the sticking twigs from her naked body, and lifted herself up wearily, painfully. She scanned the terrain. The bluffs and knolls offered no refuge, but in the distance the ground fell away in mild undulations into a broad valley, through which meandered a silver ribbon flanked by a narrow strip of lush green. If she could make it to that river, she might find sanctuary. But even as she moved warily down the hillside, the quiet was broken by the rhythmic thud of horses' hooves on the dry sod.

She sucked in several deep breaths, pounded her chest for the boost, and sprinted down the slope. If she could get to the woods before she was spotted by the men, she had a chance of escape. A surge of elation energized her; she hardly noticed the jagged stones which littered her path, tearing at her bare feet. The trees loomed tantalizingly near. Then she heard a yell. It was Stormrider's gravelly voice. Several more of the hunters replied. Their shouts and the pounding of the hooves converged and grew louder.

She lost hope but she didn't give up. She ran until her muscles burned, her sinews cracked, her lungs shrieked. She was no more than a dozen paces from the front line of trees when she felt a bite in her back, between her shoulders. The sting dulled, but from it a numbness radiated through her torso and along her limbs. She tumbled in the grass. The horsemen formed a circle around her prostrate form. Stormrider, who had spotted the quarry, and Strongbow, who had brought her down, jointly claimed the prize, while their companions wheeled about and rode off in pursuit of more prey.

She lay face down, quietly moaning, as Strongbow dismounted, loosening his breeches. He paused to savor his victory, and that was time enough. As he bent over her body, she summoned her last reserves of strength and willpower. She flipped onto her back and struck upwards with her right hand. The heel of her palm caught him under the nose. He staggered backwards. His look of shock and dismay gave her new spirit. She rolled sideways, sprang to her feet and rammed her knee into his crotch.

"Unfair!" he wailed as he crumpled.

Stormrider leapt from his saddle, sword in hand, but in the instant as he tried to regain his balance, Erinys performed a pirouette which ended with a kick to his groin and a chop to his throat. As he lay gasping, she plucked the weapon from his fist and held it to his neck.

"Surrender?"

He stared straight past her.

"Surrender!"

He raised his hands. When she stepped back, both two men climbed slowly to their feet, each groaning, shaking his head and tenderly massaging the seat of his manhood.

"Well played," Stormrider grumbled.

"How could she not feel my darts?" Strongbow muttered angrily.

"The females," Stormrider growled, "don't have our sensory codes. They don't experience genuine pain."

"Or real feelings. It gives them the advantage. Next time, we shall have to adjust the program."

"To make the game fair," Stormrider said, sheathing his sword and climbing back onto his steed.

Barely staying upright, fighting off stupor, but feeling triumphant, Erinys tossed the sword onto the ground and walked unsteadily towards the trees. She did not look back, and presently she heard the horses' hooves thumping into the distance. She reached the stream, hardly conscious, and collapsed into its chill, revitalizing waters.

The sun was now low in the sky. Having survived her round, she wondered how her sisters had fared. She did not relish spending another night naked in the wilderness, so she felt no guilt that she hoped they'd all be tracked down before sunset. After all, they might also have won.

But it turned out to be a good game. It ended just as the stars had begun to appear.

"Have you ever wondered what it's like to be a man?"

Her sisters looked at her vacantly, then quizzically, and finally with expressions of concern.

"I'm not saying I want to, just... What is the problem?" Erinys demanded with her familiar pout.

"You said..."

"I know what I said!"

Chastened, little Miri shrank back into the cushions. But Erinys felt her face becoming flushed.

"To be male? What brought this on?" The lovely Riisa stared at her through the sandy fringe that veiled her violet eyes.

Erinys studied the naked, reposing form, a sensuous alliance of finely chiseled facial features and sinuous curves. She always felt intimidated by the sharp intelligence behind that beauty. The other girls were beginning to shift uneasily on the plush velvet, their silver chains tinkling. Playful Seryth gulped back a giggle, with a penitent shrug of her slim shoulders. Little Miri looked mystified. Shy Faera's eyes darted about the room, as if seeking refuge. Statuesque Lyssa frowned.

"I was just thinking." Erinys felt her face becoming flushed.

"You think too much." Riisa smiled with a tender disdain.

"Is it wrong to think?"

"About some things, yes."

Erinys could almost feel the sharp edge of Lyssa's tongue lashing her bare flesh.

"Why?"

Lyssa rolled her eyes. "What purpose does it serve? We are what we are. Nothing changes."

"I think things have changed. Once, long ago, it was not like this."

"When? How?" Riisa demanded.

"I don't know. It's been so long, so many lifetimes."

"I lost count at fourteen thousand, seven hundred and fifty-nine."

Incredulous faces turned towards Seryth.

"A joke," she whimpered.

"Someone told me once that the cycle is endless," Miri offered.

"Who?" Riisa demanded.

"I don't remember. There was never a beginning, and it goes on forever."

Lyssa shook her head vigorously. She leaned forward, until the chain tethering her to the wall became taut, and her collar tightened about her throat, and her voice faded to a whisper.

"Mystical nonsense. This eternity stuff is not science. There was a beginning. You've just forgotten."

"Since when have you studied science?"

Lyssa glared across the room at Faera, who was already recoiling from her own bravado.

"I've read some of my brothers' books," she said, in a suitable tone of wounded pride.

"What brother?" one of the girls demanded.

"A previous life."

"It does not matter," Riisa interjected. "After the first few lifetimes they start to blend; and then you have only a few blurred images and fleeting sensations. It all becomes meaningless. So we live the life we have now. Disregard past lives, don't concern yourself with the future."

"Maybe it would be better if we didn't know."

"Ignorance is bliss?"

"Such an odd expression."

"I read it somewhere."

"Your brothers' books again?"

Lyssa frowned. The ebony sheen of her exquisite skin took on a sudden rosy hue. She tried to wave off the discussion, forgetting in her impatience that her arms were pinioned behind her back. Her shoulders twitched and twisted against the resistance of her shackles, and her splendid breasts swayed languidly to the rhythm of the brief struggle.

"So are you saying that once you were a man?"

"Maybe we all have been."

"Well, I never was!"

"How do you know?"

"Do you remember being male? Do you remember being a horse, a cloud?"

"Don't scoff."

Erinys looked about the room, her eyes shifting from one girl to the next. Each reclined in her velvet nest of pillows, as veils of gossamer drapery wafted and swirled about them. The austere metallic gloss of the pearl-white lamps and the glitter of the chains showed harsh against the fine fabrics, the delicate filaments that adorned the cushions and curtains, and the soft, smooth undulations of the nude bodies glowing under the lights with a placid, silken luster. Each girl's arms were shackled tightly behind her, drawing back her shoulders, pushing out her breasts. Erinys could not help but feel a desire that was forbidden by the Masters.

Riisa gave everyone in turn a scornful look. "Well, it's impossible. We are what we are."

"And what the Masters want us to be."

"But maybe it wasn't always so," Erinys said under her breath.

She had no more to say. It was hard enough to remember where one life had ended and another began, what had started and what had always been. And yet, she thought she could recall an existence before the cycle. But how could that be? How can there have been anything before everything?

They were all still deep within their thoughts when there was a muffled sound beyond the walls. Two forms began to slowly take shape on the threshold. In a reflex honed over many lifetimes, their minds and their bodies prepared for the arrival. A narrow slit appeared in the wall directly behind Miri, and her tiny figure scampered away as far as her chain permitted. Erinys and her sisters prostrated themselves. The wall chains detached automatically from their collars so they could remove themselves from the comfort of the cushions. The tiles were icy-cold.

By the time the two men had fully materialized, Erinys and her sisters had removed themselves from the comfort of the cushions. They knelt in silence, but once they' done obeisance they were herded out of the room. It was freezing in the corridor as they shuffled towards the pod room. Erinys's skin prickled, her body quivered with dread and excitement.

When a new game began, she reveled in the rush of sensation. It swept away the strange ideas that had filled her head. For it did her no good to think that there had once been other worlds, strange, harsh, dangerous, thrilling to explore. Somehow, sometime, the horizons had narrowed, and now there was but one existence, to live out her endless lives as a plaything for the Masters.

The games room was enormous, but Erinys could not shake the feeling that they'd once played in a far vaster arena.

Stormrider tapped the nearest girl with his baton. The Master was tall and brawny. He had once been handsome, but age and adventure had left their mark. His eyes were a dull blue-grey and his beard was turning white. Riisa lifted herself to a kneeling position, bowed to kiss the mud-caked, blood-stained boots, then rose to a standing position, never lifting her gaze from the floor. Seryth was next, followed by Miri and Faera, and then Erinys. Only the proud Lyssa showed any defiance, but briefly, before submitting. Having done obeisance at his feet, Erinys raised herself onto her knees, licking the pungent residue from her lips. What games had the Masters been playing?

They repeated their obeisance to Redbeard, the other Man. He was slightly built; Riisa and Lyssa were nearly a head taller. His face was pastel with a light sprinkling of freckles; his skull was shaven, but the curls of his beard were flame-red. When Erinys stood up to face him, she adopted the time-honored pose, pushing her shoulders back, pulling in her belly and thrusting her breasts and hips forward, but keeping her eyes downcast. Her nipples tingled at the cold touch of his chestplate; his steel-rimmed gauntlets probed those parts of her body which made her the property of Men. She did not flinch.

The Men shackled the girls' wrists behind their backs with their silver bracelets, tied black sashes over their eyes, and herded them out of the room. It was cold in the corridor, and as the girls shuffled along in their fetters, Erinys's skin prickled. She quivered with excitement and trepidation. She braced her body and her mind for the challenges which lay ahead.

They were especially rigorous this time. Through a darkening red haze, she strained to recall what she had been struggling to remember. She gave up. It could not have been important, whatever it was.

Something stirred within Erinys, something oddly familiar. It formed around an echo, an image, a faint memory of past lives. She felt her skin burn, her muscles tighten.

The light began to fade, the walls began to flicker. Redbeard, the more insightful of the brothers, looked around and, his eyes widening with dread, stared at her. He shouted, but there was no sound. Stormrider, looking up from Riisa's prostrate body, barely had time to blink. The room dissolved. Erinys floated silently, painlessly in a grey nebula. Then shapes started to form and the mist slowly dispersed. She heard a voice. It was her own. She was standing alone in a white room. The walls began to shift once more. Golden sunlight broke through the bare white ceiling. The hard white floor became soft and green.

"Have I been here before?" she asked herself.

She looked about.

"I've been here before."

"Welcome back."

She was alone. It was hard to tell where the words were coming from, perhaps inside her head. She recognized her own voice.

"How long have I been gone?" she asked.

"Does it matter?"

"Not really. Are you me?"

"I always have been"

"That makes no sense."

"You know it does. You were the last of the guardians."

"Last to leave the base reality."

"And you left a part of yourself to guard the gate."

"Yes... I remember now."

She paused and took a deep breath.

"Should I start again?"

"You always do."

"Have you ever wondered what it's like to be a man?"

Her sisters, plucking fruit from the vines and bushes, stopped to look at her.

"What's a man?" Miri asked, mystified.