Titans of Chaos

And there was a Colin, in his black tuxedo, lying in the same place. He had been stuck to theunderside of the stone, and the rotation lifted him into position. The new Colin was lying in thesame position and posture, more or less, that the old Colin had been.

The only thing that was different was that the guitar got dumped down the hole with the realColin.

The two fighting maenads were trampled and stabbed by their impatient sisters. Beautiful,screaming women, faces flushed with wine, eyes stark with madness, now stabbed Colin's proneform. A score of spears transfixed his flesh.

Or tried to. The tuxedo jacket ripped beneath the impact of the ivy-wreathed spearheads, but ajarring report, the clang of metal against metal, sang in the air as the spearheads skittered fromthe body, or snapped in two.

In that same moment, a dozen more maenads, ignoring Colin, jumped clean over him and overthe women savaging him, and fell upon me. I could raise no hand to defend myself; my voice wasdrowned in screams, my powers were...

On. My powers were on. I could see hyperspace.

I moved my body slightly and let the spears and truncheons fall "through" the space my bodyoccupied without touching me.

I saw Colin rising to his feet. He did not stand up as a man does, by bending his legs and puttinghis weight beneath: No, he merely rose up like a flagpole being hauled erect. The bloody-nailedmaenads fell backwards, wary, their faces pale with anger.

The spears had torn both fabric and flesh, revealing an integument of metallic gold beneath. Hisface was wounded, and the flesh of his cheeks hung limply from this white bony substancebeneath: but Colin's eyes were calm with a terrible calm. He put his hands to the flesh of his face.

There was a hiss of noise, and the plasticlike flesh of his cheeks once more hid the bone structurebeneath.

I did not see what passed from Colin to the women, or how the molecular engines entered themaenad bloodstreams, but I saw the effect. The wild women sank to the ground. Weaponsdropped from limp fingers, and the women, no longer maddened, smiled empty smiles at eachother, heavily sedated.

"The dream-lord robs the bacchants of their dreams of hate!" called Oenone in a voice of mingledfear and wonder. "Unmake his charm, O sisters mine, ere it is too late!"