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diff --git a/old/20788-h.htm b/old/20788-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..36026ee --- /dev/null +++ b/old/20788-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8358 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Storm Over Warlock, by Andre Norton. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + h4 {margin-top:0;} + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + .center {text-align: center;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: + 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + + .bbox {margin-right: 10%; margin-left: 10%; margin-top:2em; border: dotted 1px; padding: 1em;} + + ins.corr {text-decoration:none; border-bottom: thin dotted gray;} + span.ralign {position: absolute; right: 15%; top: auto; text-align: right;} + ul.off {list-style-type: none;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Storm Over Warlock, by Andre Norton + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Storm Over Warlock + +Author: Andre Norton + +Release Date: March 9, 2007 [EBook #20788] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STORM OVER WARLOCK *** + + + + +Produced by LN Yaddanapudi, Greg Weeks and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p> +<div class="center"><div class="figcenter" style="width: 396px;"> +<img src="images/illus-front.jpg" width="396" height="600" alt="" title="" /> +</div></div> +<h1>STORM OVER +WARLOCK</h1> + +<h3>by</h3> + +<h2>ANDRE NORTON</h2> + +<h3>ACE BOOKS, INC.</h3> + +<h3>23 West 47th Street, New York 36, N.Y.</h3> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span></p> + +<div style="margin-top:4em"><p class="center">STORM OVER WARLOCK</p> + +<p class="center">Copyright ©, 1960, by Andre Norton</p> + +<p class="center">An Ace Book, by arrangement with The World Publishing Co.</p> + +<p class="center">All Rights Reserved</p> + +<p class="center">Printed in U.S.A.</p></div> + +<div class="center bbox"> +<h4>Transcriber's Note</h4> + +<p>Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.</p> + +<p>Front matter consisting of a blurb and a list of other publications by +the author has been moved to the end of the text.</p> +</div> + +<div style="margin-left:5%; margin-right:5%"> +<h3>Table of Contents</h3> +<ol> +<li><a href="#DISASTER">DISASTER</a><span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_5">5</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#DEATH_OF_A_SHIP">DEATH OF A SHIP</a><span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_15">15</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#TO_CLOSE_RANKS">TO CLOSE RANKS</a><span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_25">25</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#SORTIE">SORTIE</a><span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_35">35</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#PURSUIT">PURSUIT</a><span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_46">46</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#THE_HOUND">THE HOUND</a><span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_56">56</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#UNWELCOME_GUIDE">UNWELCOME GUIDE</a><span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_66">66</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#UTGARD">UTGARD</a><span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_77">77</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#ONE_ALONE">ONE ALONE</a><span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_87">87</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#A_TRAP_FOR_A_TRAPPER">A TRAP FOR A TRAPPER</a><span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_97">97</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#THE_WITCH">THE WITCH</a><span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_108">108</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#THE_VEIL_OF_ILLUSION">THE VEIL OF ILLUSION</a><span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_119">119</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#HE_WHO_DREAMS">HE WHO DREAMS....</a><span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_129">129</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#ESCAPE">ESCAPE</a><span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_139">139</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#DRAGON_SLAYER">DRAGON SLAYER</a><span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_150">150</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#THIRD_PRISONER">THIRD PRISONER</a><span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_161">161</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#THROG_JUSTICE">THROG JUSTICE</a><span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_172">172</a></span></li> +<li><a href="#STORMS_ENDING">STORM'S ENDING</a><span class="ralign"><a href="#Page_182">182</a></span></li> +</ol></div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="DISASTER" id="DISASTER"></a>1. DISASTER</h2> + + +<p>The Throg task force struck the Terran Survey camp a few +minutes after dawn, without warning, and with a deadly +precision which argued that the aliens had fully reconnoitered +and prepared that attack. Eye-searing lances of energy +lashed back and forth across the base with methodical accuracy. +And a single cowering witness, flattened on a ledge in +the heights above, knew that when the last of those yellow-red +bolts fell, nothing human would be left alive down there. +His teeth closed hard upon the thick stuff of the sleeve covering +his thin forearm, and in his throat a scream of terror and +rage was stillborn.</p> + +<p>More than caution kept him pinned on that narrow shelf +of rock. Watching that holocaust below, Shann Lantee could +not force himself to move. The sheer ruthlessness of the Throg +move-in left him momentarily weak. To listen to a tale of +Throgs in action, and to be an eye-witness to such action, were +two vastly different things. He shivered in spite of the warmth +of the Survey Corps uniform.</p> + +<p>As yet he had sighted none of the aliens, only their plate-shaped +flyers. They would stay aloft until their long-range +weapon cleared out all opposition. But how had they been +able to make such a complete annihilation of the Terran force? +The last report had placed the nearest Throg nest at least two +systems away from Warlock. And a patrol lane had been +drawn about the Circe system the minute that Survey had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> +marked its second planet ready for colonization. Somehow +the beetles had slipped through that supposedly tight cordon +and would now consolidate their gains with their usual speed +at rooting. First an energy attack to finish the small Terran +force; then they would simply take over.</p> + +<p>A month later, or maybe two months, and they could not +have done it. The grids would have been up, and any Throg +ship venturing into Warlock's amber-tinted sky would abruptly +cease to be. In the race for survival as a galactic power, Terra +had that one small edge over the swarms of the enemy. They +need only stake out their new-found world and get the grids +assembled on its surface; then that planet would be locked to +the beetles. The critical period was between the first discovery +of a suitable colony world and the erection of grid +control. Planets in the past had been lost during that time lag, +just as Warlock was lost now.</p> + +<p>Throgs and Terrans.... For more than a century now, +planet time, they had been fighting their queer, twisted war +among the stars. Terrans hunted worlds for colonization, the +old hunger for land of their own driving men from the over-populated +worlds, out of Sol's system to the far stars. And +those worlds barren of intelligent native life, open to settlers, +were none too many and widely scattered. Perhaps half a +dozen were found in a quarter century, and of that six maybe +only one was suitable for human life without any costly and +lengthy adaption of man or world. Warlock was one of the +lucky finds which came so seldom.</p> + +<p>Throgs were predators, living on the loot they garnered. +As yet, mankind had not been able to discover whether they +did indeed swarm from any home world. Perhaps they lived +eternally on board their plate ships with no permanent base, +forced into a wandering life by the destruction of the planet +on which they had originally been spawned. But they were +raiders now, laying waste defenseless worlds, picking up the +wealth of shattered cities in which no native life remained. +And their hidden temporary bases were looped about the +galaxy, their need for worlds with an atmosphere similar to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> +Terra's as necessary as that of man. For in spite of their grotesque +insectile bodies, their wholly alien minds, the Throgs +were warm-blooded, oxygen-breathing creatures.</p> + +<p>After the first few clashes the early Terran explorers had +endeavored to promote a truce between the species, only to +discover that between Throg and man there appeared to be +no meeting ground at all—total differences of mental processes +producing insurmountable misunderstanding. There was simply +no point of communication. So the Terrans had suffered +one smarting defeat after another until they perfected the +grid. And now their colonies were safe, at least when time +worked in their favor.</p> + +<p>It had not on Warlock.</p> + +<p>A last vivid lash of red cracked over the huddle of domes +in the valley. Shann blinked, half blinded by that glare. His +jaws ached as he unclenched his teeth. That was the finish. +Breathing raggedly, he raised his head, beginning to realize +that he was the only one of his kind left alive on a none-too-hospitable +world controlled by enemies—without shelter or +supplies.</p> + +<p>He edged back into the narrow cleft which was the entrance +to the ledge. As a representative of his species he was +not impressive, and now with those shudders he could not +master, shaking his thin body, he looked even smaller and +more vulnerable. Shann drew his knees up close under his +chin. The hood of his woodsman's jacket was pushed back in +spite of the chill of the morning, and he wiped the back of +his hand across his lips and chin in an oddly childish gesture.</p> + +<p>None of the men below who had been alive only minutes +earlier had been close friends of his; Shann had never known +anyone but acquaintances in his short, roving life. Most people +had ignored him completely except to give orders, and one +or two had been actively malicious—like Garth Thorvald. +Shann grimaced at a certain recent memory, and then that +grimace faded into wonder. If young Thorvald hadn't purposefully +tried to get Shann into trouble by opening the wolverines'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> +cage, Shann wouldn't be here now—alive and safe +for a time—he'd have been down there with the others.</p> + +<p>The wolverines! For the first time since Shann had heard +the crackle of the Throg attack he remembered the reason he +had been heading into the hills. Of all the men on the Survey +team, Shann Lantee had been the least important. The dirty, +tedious clean-up jobs, the dull routines which required no +technical training but which had to be performed to keep the +camp functioning comfortably, those had been his portion. +And he had accepted that status willingly, just to have a +chance to be included among Survey personnel. Not that he +had the slightest hope of climbing up to even an S-E-Three +rating in the service.</p> + +<p>Part of those menial activities had been to clean the animal +cages. And there Shann Lantee had found something new, +something so absorbing that most of the tiring dull labor had +ceased to exist except as tasks to finish before he could return +to the fascination of the animal runs.</p> + +<p>Survey teams had early discovered the advantage of using +mutated and highly trained Terran animals as assistants in the +exploration of strange worlds. From the biological laboratories +and breeding farms on Terra came a trickle of specialized +aides-de-camp to accompany man into space. Some were +fighters, silent, more deadly than weapons a man wore at his +belt or carried in his hands. Some were keener eyes, keener +noses, keener scouts than the human kind could produce. Bred +for intelligence, for size, for adaptability to alien conditions, +the animal explorers from Terra were prized.</p> + +<p>Wolverines, the ancient "devils" of the northlands on +Terra, were being tried for the first time on Warlock. Their +caution, a quality highly developed in their breed, made them +testers for new territory. Able to tackle in battle an animal +three times their size, they should be added protection for the +man they accompanied into the wilderness, and their wide +ranging, their ability to climb and swim, and above all, their +curiosity were assets.</p> + +<p>Shann had begun contact by cleaning their cages; he ended<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> +captivated by these miniature bears with long bushy tails. +And to his unbounded delight the attraction was mutual. +Alone to Taggi and Togi he was a person, an important person. +Those teeth, which could tear flesh into ragged strips, +nipped gently at his fingers, closed without any pressure on +arm, even on nose and chin in what was the ultimate caress +of their kind. Since they were escape artists of no mean ability, +twice he had had to track and lead them back to camp from +forays of their own devising.</p> + +<p>But the second time he had been caught by Fadakar, the +chief of animal control, before he could lock up the delinquents. +And the memory of the resulting interview still had +the power to make him flush with impotent anger. Shann's +explanation had been contemptuously brushed aside, and he +had been delivered an ultimatum. If his carelessness occurred +again, he would be sent back on the next supply ship, +to be dismissed without an official sign-off on his work record, +thus locked out of even the lowest level of Survey for the rest +of his life.</p> + +<p>That was why Garth Thorvald's act of the night before had +made Shann brave the unknown darkness of Warlock alone +when he had discovered that the test animals were gone. He +had to locate and return them before Fadakar made his morning +inspection; Garth Thorvald's attempt to get him into bad +trouble had saved his life.</p> + +<p>Shann cowered back, striving to make his huddled body as +small as possible. One of the Throg flyers appeared silently +out of the misty amber of the morning sky, hovering over the +silent camp. The aliens were coming in to inspect the site of +their victory. And the safest place for any Terran now was as +far from the vicinity of those silent domes as he could get. +Shann's slight body was an asset as he wedged through the +narrow mouth of a cleft and so back into the cliff wall. The +climb before him he knew in part, for this was the path the +wolverines had followed on their two other escapes. A few +moments of tricky scrambling and he was out in a cuplike +depression choked with brush covered with the purplish<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> +foliage of Warlock. On the other side of that was a small cut +to a sloping hillside, giving on another valley, not as wide as +that in which the camp stood, but one well provided with +cover in the way of trees and high-growing bushes.</p> + +<p>A light wind pushed among the trees, and twice Shann +heard the harsh, rasping call of a clak-clak—one of the bat-like +leather-winged flyers that laired in pits along the cliff +walls. That present snap of two-tone complaint suggested +that the land was empty of strangers. For the clak-claks +vociferously and loudly resented encroachment on their +chosen hunting territory.</p> + +<p>Shann hesitated. He was driven by the urge to put as much +distance between him and the landing Throg ship as he could. +But to arouse the attention of inquisitive clak-claks was asking +for trouble. Perhaps it would be best to keep on along the top +of the cliff, rather than risk a descent to take cover in the +valley the flyers patrolled.</p> + +<p>A patch of dust, sheltered by a tooth-shaped projection +of rock, gave the Terran his first proof that Taggi and his mate +had preceded him, for printed firmly there was the familiar +paw mark of a wolverine. Shann began to hope that both +animals had taken to cover in the wilderness ahead.</p> + +<p>He licked dry lips. Having left secretly without any emergency +pack, he had no canteen, and now Shann inventoried +his scant possessions—a field kit, heavy-duty clothing, a short +hooded jacket with attached mittens, the breast marked with +the Survey insignia. His belt supported a sheathed stunner and +bush knife, and seam pockets held three credit tokens, a twist +of wire intended to reinforce the latch of the wolverine cage, +a packet of bravo tablets, two identity and work cards, and +a length of cord. No rations—save the bravos—no extra charge +for his stunner. But he did have, weighing down a loop on the +jacket, a small atomic torch.</p> + +<p>The path he followed ended abruptly in a cliff drop, and +Shann made a face at the odor rising from below, even though +that scent meant he could climb down to the valley floor here +without fearing any clak-clak attention. Chemical fumes from<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> +a mineral spring funneled against the wall, warding off any +nesting in this section.</p> + +<p>Shann drew up the hood of his jacket and snapped the +transparent face mask into place. He must get away—then +find food, water, a hiding place. That will to live which had +made Shann Lantee fight innumerable battles in the past was +in command, bracing him with a stubborn determination.</p> + +<p>The fumes swirled up in a smoke haze about his waist, but +he strode on, heading for the open valley and cleaner air. +That sickly lavender vegetation bordering the spring deepened +in color to the normal purple-green, and then he was in a +grove of trees, their branches pointed skyward at sharp angles +to the rust-red trunks.</p> + +<p>A small skitterer burst from moss-spotted ground covering, +giving an alarmed squeak, skimming out of sight as suddenly +as it had appeared. Shann squeezed between two trees and +then paused. The trunk of the larger was deeply scored with +scratches dripping viscid <ins class="corr" title="Original reads 'gods'">gobs</ins> of sap, a sap which was a bright +froth of scarlet. Taggi had left his mark here, and not too long +ago.</p> + +<p>The soft carpet of moss showed no paw marks, but he +thought he knew the goal of the animals—a lake down-valley. +Shann was beginning to plan now. The Throgs had not +blasted the Terran camp out of existence; they had only made +sure of the death of its occupiers. Which meant they must +have some use for the installations. For the general loot of a +Survey field camp would be relatively worthless to those who +picked over the treasure of entire cities elsewhere. Why? What +did the Throgs want? And would the alien invaders continue +to occupy the domes for long?</p> + +<p>Shann did not realize what had happened to him since +that shock of ruthless attack. From early childhood, when +he had been thrown on his own to scratch a living—a borderline +existence of a living—on the Dumps of Tyr, he had had +to use his wits to keep life in a scrawny and undersized body. +However, since he had been eating regularly from Survey +rations, he was not quite so scrawny any more.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span></p> + +<p>His formal education was close to zero, his informal and +off-center schooling vast. And that particular toughening process +which had been working on him for years now aided in +his speedy adaption to a new set of facts, formidable ones. He +was alone on a strange and perhaps hostile world. Water, +food, safe shelter, those were important now. And once again, +away from the ordered round of the camp where he had been +ruled by the desires and requirements of others, he was thinking, +planning in freedom. Later (his hand went to the butt +of his stunner) perhaps later he might just find a way of extracting +an accounting from the beetle-faces, too.</p> + +<p>For the present, he would have to keep away from the +Throgs, which meant well away from the camp. A fleck of +green showed through the amethyst foliage before him—the +lake! Shann wriggled through a last bush barrier and stood to +look out over that surface. A sleek brown head bobbed up. +Shann put fingers to his mouth and whistled. The head turned, +black button eyes regarded him, short legs began to churn +water. To his gratification the swimmer was obeying his summons.</p> + +<p>Taggi came ashore, pausing on the fine gray sand of the +verge to shake himself vigorously. Then the wolverine came +upslope at a clumsy gallop to Shann. With an unknown feeling +swelling inside him, the Terran went down on both knees, +burying both hands in the coarse brown fur, warming to the +uproarious welcome Taggi gave him.</p> + +<p>"Togi?" Shann asked as if the other could answer. He +gazed back to the lake, but Taggi's mate was nowhere in sight.</p> + +<p>The blunt head under his hand swung around, black button +nose pointed north. Shann had never been sure just how intelligent, +as mankind measured intelligence, the wolverines +were. He had come to suspect that Fadakar and the other experts +had underrated them and that both beasts understood +more than they were given credit for. Now he followed an +experiment of his own, one he had had a chance to try only a +few times before and never at length. Pressing his palm flat on +Taggi's head, Shann thought of Throgs and of their attack,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> +trying to arouse in the animal a corresponding reaction to his +own horror and anger.</p> + +<p>And Taggi responded. A mutter became a growl, teeth +gleamed—those cruel teeth of a carnivore to whom they +were weapons of aggression. Danger.... Shann thought "danger." +Then he raised his hand, and the wolverine shuffled off, +heading north. The man followed.</p> + +<p>They discovered Togi busy in a small cove where a jagged +tangle of drift made a mat dating from the last high-water +period. She was finishing a hearty breakfast, the remains of a +water rat being buried thriftily against future need after the +instincts of her kind. When she was done she came to Shann, +inquiry plain to read in her eyes.</p> + +<p>There was water here, and good hunting. But the site was +too close to the Throgs. Let one of their exploring flyers sight +them, and the little group was finished. Better cover, that's +what the three fugitives must have. Shann scowled, not at +Togi, but at the landscape. He was tired and hungry, but he +must keep on going.</p> + +<p>A stream fed into the cove from the west, a guide of sorts. +With very little knowledge of the countryside, Shann was +inclined to follow that.</p> + +<p>Overhead the sun made its usual golden haze of the sky. +A flight of vivid green streaks marked a flock of lake ducks +coming for a morning feeding. Lake duck was good eating, +but Shann had no time to hunt one now. Togi started down +the bank of the stream, Taggi behind her. Either they had +caught his choice subtly through some undefined mental contact, +or they had already picked that road on their own.</p> + +<p>Shann's attention was caught by a piece of the drift. He +twisted the length free and had his first weapon of his own +manufacture, a club. Using it to hold back a low sweeping +branch, he followed the wolverines.</p> + +<p>Within the half hour he had breakfast, too. A pair of limp +skitterers, their long hind feet lashed together with a thong +of grass, hung from his belt. They were not particularly good +eating, but they were meat and acceptable.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span></p> + +<p>The three, man and wolverines, made their way up the +stream to the valley wall and through a feeder ravine into the +larger space beyond. There, where the stream was born at +the foot of a falls, they made their first camp. Judging that +the morning haze would veil any smoke, Shann built a pocket-size +fire. He seared rather than roasted the skitterers after he +had made an awkward and messy business of skinning them, +and tore the meat from the delicate bones in greedy mouthfuls. +The wolverines lay side by side on the gravel, now and again +raising a head alertly to test the scent on the air, or gaze into +the distance.</p> + +<p>Taggi made a warning sound deep in the throat. Shann +tossed handfuls of sand over the dying fire. He had only time +to fling himself face-down, hoping the drab and weathered +cloth of his uniform faded into the color of the earth on which +he lay, every muscle tense.</p> + +<p>A shadow swung across the hillside. Shann's shoulders +hunched, and he cowered again. That terror he had known on +the ledge was back in full force as he waited for the beam to +lick at him as it had earlier at his fellows. The Throgs were +on the hunt....</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="DEATH_OF_A_SHIP" id="DEATH_OF_A_SHIP"></a>2. DEATH OF A SHIP</h2> + + +<p>That sigh of displaced air was not as loud as a breeze, but it +echoed monstrously in Shann's ears. He could not believe in +his luck as that sound grew fainter, drew away into the valley +he had just left. With infinite caution he raised his head from +his arm, still hardly able to accept the fact that he had not +been sighted, that the Throgs and their flyer were gone.</p> + +<p>But that black plate was spinning out into the sun haze. One +of the beetles might have suspected that there were Terran +fugitives and ordered a routine patrol. After all, how could +the aliens know that they had caught all but one of the Survey +party in camp? Though with all the Terran scout flitters +grounded on the field, the men dead in their bunks, the surprise +would seem to be complete.</p> + +<p>As Shann moved, Taggi and Togi came to life also. They +had gone to earth with speed, and the man was sure that +both beasts had sensed danger. Not for the first time he knew +a burning desire for the formal education he had never had. +In camp he had listened, dragging out routine jobs in order +to overhear reports and the small talk of specialists keen on +their own particular hobbies. But so much of the information +Shann had thus picked up to store in a retentive memory he +had not understood and could not fit together. It had been as +if he were trying to solve some highly important puzzle with +at least a quarter of the necessary pieces missing, or with unrelated +bits from others intermixed. How much control did +a trained animal scout have over his furred or feathered assistants?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> +And was part of that mastery a mental rapport built +up between man and animal?</p> + +<p>How well would the wolverines obey him now, especially +when they would not return to camp where cages stood +waiting as symbols of human authority? Wouldn't a trek into +the wilderness bring about a revolt for complete freedom? If +Shann could depend upon the animals, it would mean a great +deal. Not only would their superior hunting ability provide all +three with food, but their scouting senses, so much keener +than his, might erect a slender wall between life and death.</p> + +<p>Few large native beasts had been discovered on Warlock +by the Terran explorers. And of those four or five different +species, none had proved hostile if unprovoked. But that did +not mean that somewhere back in the wild lands into which +Shann was heading there were no heretofore unknowns, perhaps +slyer and as vicious as the wolverines when they were +aroused to rage.</p> + +<p>Then there were the "dreams," which had afforded the +prime source of camp discussion and dispute. Shann brushed +coarse sand from his boots and thought about the dreams. Did +they or did they not exist? You could start an argument any +time by making a definite statement for or against the peculiar +sort of dreaming reported by the first scout to set ship on this +world.</p> + +<p>The Circe system, of which Warlock was the second of +three planets, had first been scouted four years ago by one +of those explorers traveling solo in Survey service. Everyone +knew that the First-In Scouts were a weird breed, almost a +mutation of Terran stock—their reports were rife with strange +observations.</p> + +<p>So an alarming one concerning Circe (a yellow sun such +as Sol) and her three planets was not so rare. Witch, the +world nearest in orbit to Circe, was too hot for human occupancy +without drastic and too costly world-changing. +Wizard, the third out from the sun, was mostly bare rock and +highly poisonous water. But Warlock, swinging through space<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> +between two forbidding neighbors, seemed to be just what +the settlement board ordered.</p> + +<p>Then the Survey scout, even in the cocoon safety of his +well-armed ship, began to dream. And from those dreams +a horror of the apparently empty world developed, until he +fled the planet to preserve his sanity. There had been a second +visit to Warlock in check; worlds so well adapted to human +emigration could not be lightly thrown away. And this time +there was a negative report, no trace of dreams, no registration +of any outside influence on the delicate and complicated +equipment the ship carried. So the Survey team had been dispatched +to prepare for the coming of the first pioneers, and +none of them had dreamed either—at least, no more than the +ordinary dreams all men accepted.</p> + +<p>Only there were those who pointed out that the seasons +had changed between the first and second visits to Warlock. +That first scout had planeted in summer; his successors had +come in fall and winter. They argued that the final release <ins class="corr" title="Original reads 'of world'">of the +world</ins> for settlement should not be given until the full year on +Warlock had been sampled.</p> + +<p>But the pressure of Emigrant Control had forced their +hands, that and the fear of just what had eventually happened—an +attack from the Throgs. So they had speeded up the +process of declaring Warlock open. Only Ragnar Thorvald +had protested that decision up to the last and had gone back +to headquarters on the supply ship a month ago to make a +last appeal for a more careful study.</p> + +<p>Shann stopped brushing the sand from the tough fabric +above his knee. Ragnar Thorvald.... He remembered back to +the port landing apron on another world, remembered with +a sense of loss he could not define. That had been about the +second biggest day of his short life; the biggest had come +earlier when they had actually allowed him to sign on for +Survey duty.</p> + +<p>He had tumbled off the cross-continent cargo carrier, his +kit—a very meager kit—slung over his thin shoulder, a hot +eagerness expanding inside him until he thought that he could<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> +not continue to throttle down that wild happiness. There was +a waiting starship. And he—Shann Lantee from the Dumps +of Tyr, without any influence or schooling—was going to blast +off in her, wearing the brown-green uniform of Survey!</p> + +<p>Then he had hesitated uncertainly, had not quite dared +cross the few feet of apron lying between him and that compact +group wearing the same uniform—with a slight difference, +that of service bars and completion badges and rank +insignia—with the unconscious self-assurance of men who had +done this many times before.</p> + +<p>But after a moment that whole group had become in his +own shy appraisal just a background for one man. Shann had +never before known in his pinched and limited childhood, his +lost boyhood, anyone who aroused in him hero worship. And +he could not have put a name to the new emotion that +added so suddenly to his burning desire to make good, not +only to hold the small niche in Survey which he had already +so painfully achieved, but to climb, until he could stand so in +such a group talking easily to that tall man, his uncovered +head bronze-yellow in the sunlight, his cool gray eyes pale +in his brown face.</p> + +<p>Not that any of those wild dreams born in that minute or +two had been realized in the ensuing months. Probably those +dreams had always been as wild as the ones reported by the +first scout on Warlock. Shann grinned wryly now at the +short period of childish hope and half-confidence that he +could do big things. Only one Thorvald had ever noticed +Shann's existence in the Survey camp, and that had been +Garth.</p> + +<p>Garth Thorvald, a far less impressive—one could say +"smudged"—copy of his brother. Swaggering with an arrogance +Ragnar never showed, Garth was a cadet on his first +mission, intent upon making Shann realize the unbridgeable +gulf between a labor hand and an officer-to-be. He had appeared +to know right from their first meeting just how to make +Shann's life a misery.</p> + +<p>Now, in this slit of valley well away from the domes, Shann's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> +fists balled. He pounded them against the earth in a way he +had so often hoped to plant them on Garth's smoothly handsome +face, his well-muscled body. One didn't survive the +Dumps of Tyr without learning how to use fists, and boots, +and a list of tricks they didn't teach in any academy. He had +always been sure that he could take Garth if they mixed it +up. But if he had loosed the tight rein he had kept on his +temper and offered that challenge, he would have lost his +chance with Survey. Garth had proved himself able to talk his +way out of any scrape, even minor derelictions of duty, and +he far out-ranked Shann. The laborer from Tyr had had to +swallow all that the other could dish out and hope that on his +next assignment he would not be a member of young Thorvald's +team. Though, because of Garth Thorvald, Shann's +toll of black record marks had mounted dangerously high and +each day the chance for any more duty tours had grown +dimmer.</p> + +<p>Shann laughed, and the sound was ugly. That was one +thing he didn't have to worry about any longer. There would +be no other assignments for him, the Throgs had seen to that. +And Garth ... well, there would never be a showdown between +them now. He stood up. The Throg ship had disappeared; +they could push on.</p> + +<p>He found a break in the cliff wall which was climbable, +and he coaxed the wolverines after him. When they stood on +the heights from which the falls tumbled, Taggi and Togi +rubbed against him, cried for his attention. They, too, appeared +to need the reassurance they got from contact with +him, for they were also fugitives on this alien world, the only +representatives of their kind.</p> + +<p>Since he did not have any definite goal in view, Shann continued +to be guided by the stream, following its wanderings +across a plateau. The sun was warm, so he carried his jacket +slung across one shoulder. Taggi and Togi ranged ahead, +twice catching skitterers, which they devoured voraciously. +A shadow on a sun-baked rock sent the Terran skidding for +cover until he saw that it was cast by one of the questing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> +falcons from the upper peaks. But that shook his confidence, +so he again sought cover, ashamed at his own carelessness.</p> + +<p>In the late afternoon he reached the far end of the plateau, +faced a climb to peaks which still bore cones of snow, now +tinted a soft peach by the sun. Shann studied that possible +path and distrusted his own powers to take it without proper +equipment or supplies. He must turn either north or south, +though he would then have to abandon a sure water supply in +the stream. Tonight he would camp where he was. He had +not realized how tired he was until he found a likely half-cave +in the mountain wall and crawled in. There was too +much danger in fire here; he would have to do without that +first comfort of his kind.</p> + +<p>Luckily, the wolverines squeezed in beside him to fill the +hole. With their warm furred bodies sandwiching him, Shann +dozed, awoke, and dozed again, listening to night sounds—the +screams, cries, hunting calls, of the Warlock wilds. Now +and again one of the wolverines whined and moved uneasily.</p> + +<p>Fingers of sun picked at Shann through a shaft among the +rocks, striking his eyes. He moved, blinked blearily awake, +unable for the first few seconds to understand why the smooth +plasta wall of his bunk had become rough red stone. Then he +remembered. He was alone and he threw himself frantically +out of the cave, afraid the wolverines had wandered off. +Only both animals were busy clawing under a boulder with a +steady persistence which argued there was a purpose behind +that effort.</p> + +<p>A sharp sting on the back of one hand made that purpose +only too clear to Shann, and he retreated hurriedly from the +vicinity of the excavation. They had found an earth-wasp's +burrow and were hunting grubs, naturally arousing the rightful +inhabitants to bitter resentment.</p> + +<p>Shann faced the problem of his own breakfast. He had had +the immunity shots given to all members of the team, and he +had eaten game brought in by exploring parties and labeled +"safe." But how long he could keep to the varieties of native +food he knew was uncertain. Sooner or later he must experiment<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> +for himself. Already he drank the stream water without +the aid of purifiers, and so far there had been no ill results +from that necessary recklessness. Now the stream suggested +fish. But instead he chanced upon another water inhabitant +which had crawled up on land for some obscure purpose of its +own. It was a sluggish scaled thing, an easy victim to his club, +with thin, weak legs it could project at will from a finned and +armor-plated body.</p> + +<p>Shann offered the head and guts to Togi, who had abandoned +the wasp nest. She sniffed in careful investigation and +then gulped. Shann built a small fire and seared the firm +greenish flesh. The taste was flat, lacking salt, but the food +eased his emptiness. Enheartened, he started south, hoping +to find water sometime during the morning.</p> + +<p>By noon he had his optimism justified with the discovery of +a spring, and the wolverines had brought down a slender-legged +animal whose coat was close in shade to the dusky +purple of the vegetation. Smaller than a Terran deer, its head +bore, not horns, but a ridge of stiffened hair rising in a point +some twelve inches about the skull dome. Shann haggled off +some ragged steaks while the wolverines feasted in earnest, +carefully burying the head afterward.</p> + +<p>It was when Shann knelt by the spring pool to wash +that he caught the clamor of the clak-claks. He had seen or +heard nothing of the flyers since he had left the lake valley. +But from the noise now rising in an earsplitting volume, he +thought there was a sizable colony near-by and that the inhabitants +were thoroughly aroused.</p> + +<p>He crept on his hands and knees to near-by brush cover, +heading toward the source of that outburst. If the claks were +announcing a Throg scouting party, he wanted to know it.</p> + +<p>Lying flat, with branches forming a screen over him, the +Terran gazed out on a stretch of grassland which sloped at +a fairly steep angle to the south and which must lead to a portion +of countryside well below the level he was now traversing.</p> + +<p>The clak-claks were skimming back and forth, shrieking +their staccato war cries. Following the erratic dashes of their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> +flight formation, Shann decided that whatever they railed +against was on the lower level, out of his sight from that point. +Should he simply withdraw, since the disturbance was not +near him? Prudence dictated that; yet still he hesitated.</p> + +<p>He had no desire to travel north, or to try and scale the +mountains. No, south was his best path, and he should be very +sure that route was closed before he retreated.</p> + +<p>Since any additional fuss the clak-claks might make on +sighting him would be undistinguished in their now general +clamor, the Terran crawled on to where tall grass provided a +screen at the top of the slope. There he stopped short, his +hands digging into the earth in sudden braking action.</p> + +<p>Below, the ground steamed from a rocket flare-back, grasses +burned away from the fins of a small scoutship. But even as +Shann rose to one knee, his shout of welcome choked in his +throat. One of those fins sank, canting the ship crookedly, +preventing any new take-off. And over the crown of a low hill +to the west swung the ominous black plate of a Throg flyer.</p> + +<p>The Throg ship came up in a burst of speed, and Shann +waited tensely for some countermove from the scout. Those +small speedy Terran ships were prudently provided with +weapons triply deadly in proportion to their size. He was sure +that the Terran ship could hold its own against the Throg, +even eliminate the enemy. But there was no fire from the +slanting pencil of the scout. The Throg circled warily, obviously +expecting a trap. Twice it darted back in the direction +from which it had come. As it returned from its second +retreat, another of its kind showed, a black coin dot against +the amber of the sky.</p> + +<p>Shann felt sick inside. Now the Terran scout had lost any +advantage and perhaps all hope. The Throgs could box the +other in, cut the downed ship to pieces with their energy +beams. He wanted to crawl away and not witness this last +disaster for his kind. But some stubborn core of will kept him +where he was.</p> + +<p>The Throgs began to circle while beneath them the flock +of clak-claks screamed and dived at the slanting nose of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> +Terran ship. Then that same slashing energy he had watched +quarter the camp snapped from the far plate across the +stricken scout. The man who had piloted her, if not dead +already (which might account for the lack of defense), must +have fallen victim to that. But the Throg was going to make +very sure. The second flyer halted, remaining poised long +enough to unleash a second bolt—dazzling any watching eyes +and broadcasting a vibration to make Shann's skin crawl +when the last faint ripple reached his lookout post.</p> + +<p>What happened then the overconfident Throg was not prepared +to take. Shann cried out, burying his face on his arm, +as pinwheels of scarlet light blotted out normal sight. There +was an explosion, a deafening blast. He cowered, blind, unable +to hear. Then, rubbing at his eyes, he tried to see what +had happened.</p> + +<p>Through watery blurs he made out the Throg ship, not +swinging now in serene indifference to Warlock's gravity, but +whirling end over end across the sky as might a leaf tossed in +a gust of wind. Its rim caught against a rust-red cliff, it rebounded +and crumpled. Then it came down, smashing perhaps +half a mile away from the smoking crater in which lay +the mangled wreckage of the Terran ship. The disabled scout +pilot must have played a last desperate game, making of his +ship bait for a trap.</p> + +<p>The Terran had taken one Throg with him. Shann rubbed +again at his eyes, just barely able to catch a glimpse of the +second ship flashing away westward. Perhaps it was only his +impaired sight, but it appeared to him that the Throg followed +an erratic path, either as if the pilot feared to be +caught by a second shot, or because that ship had also suffered +some injury.</p> + +<p>Acid smoke wreathed up from the valley making Shann +retch and cough. There could be no survivor from the Terran +scout, and he did not believe that any Throg had lived to +crawl free of the crumpled plate. But there would be other +beetles swarming here soon. They would not dare to leave +the scene unsearched. He wondered about that scout. Had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> +the pilot been aiming for the Survey camp, the absence of +any rider beam from there warning him off so that he made +the detour which brought him here? Or had the Throgs tried +to blast the Terran ship in the upper atmosphere, crippling it, +making this a forced landing? But at least this battle had cost +the Throgs, settling a small portion of the Terran debt for the +lost camp.</p> + +<p>The length of time between Shann's sighting of the +grounded ship and the attack by the Throgs had been so +short that he had not really developed any strong hope of +rescue to be destroyed by the end of the crippled ship. On the +other hand, seeing the Throgs take a beating had exploded +his subconscious acceptance of their superiority. He might +not have even the resources of a damaged scout at his command. +But he did have Taggi, Togi, and his own brain. Since +he was fated to permanent exile on Warlock, there might just +be some way to make the beetles pay for that.</p> + +<p>He licked his lips. Real action against the aliens would take +a lot of planning. Shann would have to know more about +what made a Throg a Throg, more than all the wild stories he +had heard over the years. There <i>had</i> to be some way a Terran +could move effectively against a beetle-head. And he had a +lot of time, maybe the rest of his life to work out a few answers. +That Throg ship lying wrecked at the foot of the cliff +... perhaps he could do a little investigating before any rescue +squad arrived. Shann decided such a move was worth the +try and whistled to the wolverines.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="TO_CLOSE_RANKS" id="TO_CLOSE_RANKS"></a>3. TO CLOSE RANKS</h2> + + +<p>Shann made his way at an angle to avoid the smoking pit +cradling the wreckage of the Terran ship. There were no +signs of life about the Throg plate as he approached. A quarter +of its bulk was telescoped back into the rest, and surely +none of the aliens could have survived such a smash, tough as +they were reputed to be with those horny carapaces serving +them in place of more vulnerable human skin.</p> + +<p>He sniffed. There was a nauseous odor heavy on the morning +air, one which would make a lasting impression on any +human nose. The port door in the black ship stood open, perhaps +having burst in the impact against the cliff. Shann had almost +reached it when a crackle of chain lightning beat across +the ground before him, turning the edge of the buckled entrance +panel red.</p> + +<p>Shann dropped to the ground, drawing his stunner, knowing +at the same moment that such a weapon was about as +much use in meeting a blaster as a straw wand would be to +ward off a blazing coal. A chill numbness held him as +he waited for a second blast to charr the flesh between his +shoulders. So there had been a Throg survivor, after all.</p> + +<p>But as moments passed and the Throg did not move in to +make an easy kill, Shann collected his wits. Only one shot! +Was the beetle injured, unable to make sure of even an almost +defenseless prey? The Throgs seldom took prisoners. +When they did....</p> + +<p>The Terran's lips tightened. He worked his hand under his +prone body, feeling for the hilt of his knife. With that he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> +could speedily remove himself from the status of Throg prisoner, +and he would do it gladly if there was no hope of escape. +Had there been only one charge left in that blaster? +Shann could make half a dozen guesses as to why the other +had made no move, but that shot had come from behind him, +and he dared not turn his head or otherwise make an effort to +see what the other might be doing.</p> + +<p>Was it only his imagination, or had that stench grown +stronger during the last few seconds? Could the Throg be +creeping up on him? Shann strained his ears, trying to catch +some sound he could interpret. The few clak-claks that had +survived the blast about the ship were shrieking overhead, +and Shann made one attempt at counterattack.</p> + +<p>He whistled the wolverines' call. The pair had not been too +willing to follow him down into this valley, and they had +avoided the crater at a very wide circle. But if they would +obey him now, he just might have a chance.</p> + +<p>There! That <i>had</i> been a sound, and the smell <i>was</i> stronger. +The Throg must be coming to him. Again Shann whistled, +holding in his mind his hatred for the <ins class="corr" title="Hyphenated in line with majority usage">beetle-head</ins>, the need +for finishing off that alien. If the animals could pick either +thoughts or emotions out of their human companion, this was +the time for him to get those unspoken half-orders across.</p> + +<p>Shann slammed his hand hard against the ground, sent his +body rolling, his stunner up and ready.</p> + +<p>And now he could see that grotesque thing, swaying weakly +back and forth on its thin legs, yet holding a blaster, bringing +that weapon up to center it on him. The Throg was hunched +over and perhaps to Taggi presented the outline of some four-footed +creature to be hunted. For the wolverine male sprang +for the horn-shelled shoulders.</p> + +<p>Under that impact that Throg sagged forward. But Taggi, +outraged at the nature of creature he had attacked, squalled +and retreated. Shann had had his precious seconds of distraction. +He fired, the core of the stun beam striking full into +the flat dish of the alien's "face."</p> + +<p>That bolt, which would have shocked a mammal into insensibility,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> +only slowed the Throg. Shann rolled again, gaining +a temporary cover behind the wrecked ship. He squirmed +under metal hot enough to scorch his jacket and saw the +reflection of a second blaster shot which had been fired seconds +late.</p> + +<p>Now the Throg had him tied down. But to get at the Terran +the alien would have to show himself, and Shann had one +chance in fifty, which was better than that of three minutes +ago—when the odds had been set at one in a hundred. He +knew that he could not press the wolverines in again. Taggi's +distaste was too manifest; Shann had been lucky that the +animal had made one abortive attack.</p> + +<p>Perhaps the Terran's escape and Taggi's action had made +the alien reckless. Shann had no clue to the thinking processes +of the non-human, but now the Throg staggered around the +end of the plate, his digits, which were closer to claws than +fingers, fumbling with his weapon. The Terran snapped another +shot from his stunner, hoping to slow the enemy down. +But he was trapped. If he turned to climb the cliff at his back, +the beetle-head could easily pick him off.</p> + +<p>A rock hurtled from the heights above, striking with deadly +accuracy on the domed, hairless head of the Throg. His armored +body crashed forward, struck against the ship, and rebounded +to the ground. Shann darted forward to seize the +blaster, kicking loose the claws which still grasped it, before +he flattened back to the cliff, the strange weapon over his arm, +his heart beating wildly.</p> + +<p>That rock had not bounded down the mountainside by +chance; it had been hurled with intent and aimed carefully +at its target. And no Throg would kill one of his fellows. Or +would he? Suppose orders had been issued to take a Terran +prisoner and the Throg by the ship had disobeyed? Then, why +a rock and not a blaster bolt?</p> + +<p>Shann edged along until the upslanted, broken side of the +Throg flyer provided him with protection from any overhead +attack. Under that shelter he waited for the next move from +his unknown rescuer.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span></p> + +<p>The clak-claks wheeled closer to earth. One lit boldly on +the carapace of the inert Throg, shuffling ungainly along that +horny ridge. Cradling the blaster, the Terran continued to +wait. His patience was rewarded when that investigating clak-clak +took off uttering an enraged snap or two. He heard what +might be the scrape of boots across rock, but that might also +have come from horny skin meeting stone.</p> + +<p>Then the other must have lost his footing not too far above. +Accompanied by a miniature landslide of stones and earth, +a figure slid down several yards away. Shann waited in a half-crouch, +his looted blaster covering the man now getting to his +feet. There was no mistaking the familiar uniform, or even the +man. How Ragnar Thorvald had reached that particular spot +on Warlock or why, Shann could not know. But that he was +there, there was no denying.</p> + +<p>Shann hurried forward. It had been when he caught his +first sight of Thorvald that he realized just how deep his unacknowledged +loneliness had bit. There were two Terrans on +Warlock now, and he did not need to know why. But Thorvald +was staring back at him with the blankness of non-recognition.</p> + +<p>"Who are you?" The demand held something close to suspicion.</p> + +<p>That note in the other's voice wiped away a measure of +Shann's confidence, threatened something which had flowered +in him since he had struck into the wilderness on his own. +Three words had reduced him again to Lantee, unskilled +laborer.</p> + +<p>"Lantee. I'm from the camp...."</p> + +<p>Thorvald's eagerness was plain in his next question: "How +many of you got away? Where are the rest?" He gazed past +Shann up the plateau slope as if he expected to see the personnel +of the camp sprout out of the cloak of grass along the +verge.</p> + +<p>"Just me and the wolverines," Shann answered in a colorless +voice. He cradled the blaster on his hip, turned a little +away from the officer.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You ... and the wolverines?" Thorvald was plainly +startled. "But ... where? How?"</p> + +<p>"The Throgs hit very early yesterday morning. They caught +the rest in camp. The wolverines had escaped from their cage, +and I was out hunting them...." He told his story baldly.</p> + +<p>"You're sure about the rest?" Thorvald had a thin steel of +rage edging his voice. Almost, Shann thought, as if he could +turn that blade of rage against one Shann Lantee for being yet +alive when more important men had not survived.</p> + +<p>"I saw the attack from an upper ridge," the younger man +said, having been put on the defensive. Yet he had a right to +be alive, hadn't he? Or did Thorvald believe that he should +have gone running down to meet the <ins class="corr" title="Hyphenated in line with majority usage">beetle-heads</ins> with his +useless stunner? "They used energy beams ... didn't land +until it was all over."</p> + +<p>"I knew there was something wrong when the camp didn't +answer our enter-atmosphere signal," Thorvald said absently. +"Then one of those platters jumped us on braking orbit, and +my pilot was killed. When we set down on the automatics +here I had just time to rig a surprise for any trackers before I +took to the hills——"</p> + +<p>"The blast got one of them," Shann pointed out.</p> + +<p>"Yes, they'd nicked the booster rocket; she wouldn't climb +again. But they'll be back here to pick over the remains."</p> + +<p>Shann looked at the dead Throg. "Thanks for taking a +hand." His tone was as chill as the other's this time. "I'm +heading south...."</p> + +<p>And, he added silently, I intend to keep on that way. The +Throg attack had dissolved the pattern of the Survey team. +He didn't owe Thorvald any allegiance. And he had been +successfully on his own here since the camp had been overrun.</p> + +<p>"South," Thorvald repeated. "Well, that's as good a direction +as any right now."</p> + +<p>But they were not united. Shann found the wolverines and +patiently coaxed and wheedled them into coming with him +over a circuitous route which kept them away from both ships. +Thorvald went up the cliff, swung down again, a supply bag<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> +slung over one shoulder. He stood watching as Shann brought +the animals in.</p> + +<p>Then Thorvald's arm swept out, his fingers closing possessively +about the barrel of the blaster. Shann's own hold on the +weapon tightened, and the force of the other's pull dragged +him partly around.</p> + +<p>"Let's have that——"</p> + +<p>"Why?" Shann supposed that because it had been the +other's well-aimed rock which had put the Throg out of commission +permanently, the officer was going to claim their only +spoils of war as personal booty, and a hot resentment flowered +in the younger man.</p> + +<p>"We don't take that away from here." Thorvald made the +weapon his with a quick twist.</p> + +<p>To Shann's utter astonishment, the Survey officer walked +back to kneel beside the dead Throg. He worked the grip of +the blaster under the alien's lax claws and inspected the +result with the care of one arranging a special and highly +important display. Shann's protest became vocal. "We'll need +that!"</p> + +<p>"It'll do us far more good right where it is...." Thorvald +paused and then added, with impatience roughening his voice +as if he disliked the need for making any explanations, "There +is no reason for us to advertise our being alive. If the Throgs +found a blaster missing, they'd start thinking and looking +around. I want to have a breathing spell before I have to play +quarry in one of their hunts."</p> + +<p>Put that way, his action did make sense. But Shann regretted +the loss of an arm so superior to their own weapons. +Now they could not loot the plateship either. In silence he +turned and started to trudge southward, without waiting +for Thorvald to catch up with him.</p> + +<p>Once away from the blasted area, the wolverines ranged +ahead at their clumsy gallop, which covered ground at a +surprising rate of speed. Shann knew that their curiosity made +them scouts surpassing any human and that the men who followed +would have ample warning of any danger to come.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> +Without reference to his silent trail companion, he sent the +animals toward another strip of woodland which would give +them cover against the coming of any Throg flyer.</p> + +<p>As the hours advanced he began to cast about for a proper +night camp. The woods ought to give them a usable site.</p> + +<p>"This is a water wood," Thorvald said, breaking the silence +for the first time since they had left the wrecks.</p> + +<p>Shann knew that the other had knowledge, not only of the +general countryside, but of exploring techniques which he +himself did not possess, but to be reminded of that fact was an +irritant rather than a reassurance. Without answering, the +younger man bored on to locate the water promised.</p> + +<p>The wolverines found the small lake first and were splashing +along its shore when the Terrans caught up. Thorvald went +to work, but to Shann's surprise he did not unstrap the force-blade +ax at his belt. Bending over a sapling, he pounded away +with a stone at the green wood a few inches above the root +line until he was able to break through the slender trunk. +Shann drew his own knife and bent to tackle another treelet +when Thorvald stopped him with an order: "Use a stone +on that, the way I did."</p> + +<p>Shann could see no reason for such a laborious process. If +Thorvald did not want to use his ax, that was no reason that +Shann could not put his heavy belt knife to work. He hesitated, +ready to set the blade to the outer bark of the tree.</p> + +<p>"Look—" again that impatient edge in the officer's tone, +the need for explanation seeming to come very hard to the +other—"sooner or later the Throgs might just trace us here +and find this camp. If so, they are <i>not</i> going to discover any +traces to label us Terran——"</p> + +<p>"But who else could we be?" protested Shann. "There is +no native race on Warlock."</p> + +<p>Thorvald tossed his improvised stone ax from hand to hand.</p> + +<p>"But do the Throgs know that?"</p> + +<p>The implications, the possibilities, in that idea struck home +to Shann. Now he began to understand what Thorvald might +be planning.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Now there is going to be a native race." Shann made +a statement instead of a question and saw that the other was +watching him with a new intentness, as if he had at last been +recognized as a person instead of rank and file and very low +rank at that—Survey personnel.</p> + +<p>"There is going to be a native race," Thorvald affirmed.</p> + +<p>Shann resheathed his knife and went to search the pond +beach for a suitable stone to use in its place. Even so, he made +harder work of the clumsy chopping than Thorvald had. He +worried at one sapling after another until his hands were +skinned and his breath came in painful gusts from under +aching ribs. Thorvald had gone on to another task, ripping the +end of a long tough vine from just under the powdery surface +of the thick leaf masses fallen in other years.</p> + +<p>With this the officer lashed together the tops of the poles, +having planted their splintered butts in the ground, so that +he achieved a crudely conical erection. Leafy branches were +woven back and forth through this framework, with an entrance, +through which one might crawl on hands and knees, +left facing the lakeside. The shelter they completed was compact +and efficient but totally unlike anything Shann had ever +seen before, certainly far removed from the domes of the +camp. He said so, nursing his raw hands.</p> + +<p>"An old form," Thorvald replied, "native to a primitive +race on Terra. Certainly the beetle-heads haven't come across +its like before."</p> + +<p>"Are we going to stay here? Otherwise it is pretty heavy +work for one night's lodging."</p> + +<p>Thorvald tested the shelter with a sharp shake. The matted +leaves whispered, but the framework held.</p> + +<p>"Stage dressing. No, we won't linger here. But it's evidence +to support our play. Even a Throg isn't dense enough to believe +that natives would make a cross-country trip without +leaving evidence of their passing."</p> + +<p>Shann sat down with a sigh he made no effort to suppress. +He had a vision of Thorvald traveling southward, methodically +erecting these huts here and there to confound Throgs who<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> +might not ever chance upon them. But already the Survey +officer was busy with a new problem.</p> + +<p>"We need weapons——"</p> + +<p>"We have our stunners, a force ax, and our knives," Shann +pointed out. He did not add, as he would have liked that +they could have had a blaster.</p> + +<p>"Native weapons," Thorvald countered with his usual snap. +He went back to the beach and crawled about there, choosing +and rejecting stones picked out of the gravel.</p> + +<p>Shann scooped out a small pit just before their hut and +set about the making of a pocket-sized fire. He was hungry +and looked longingly now and again to the supply bag Thorvald +had brought with him. Dared he rummage in that for +rations? Surely the other would be carrying concentrates.</p> + +<p>"Who taught you how to make a fire that way?" Thorvald +was back from the pond, a selection of round stones about the +size of his fist resting between his chest and his forearm.</p> + +<p>"It's regulation, isn't it?" Shann countered defensively.</p> + +<p>"It's regulation," Thorvald agreed. He set down his stones +in a row and then tossed the supply bag over to his companion. +"Too late to hunt tonight. But well have to go easy on those +rations until we can get more."</p> + +<p>"Where?" Did Thorvald know of some supply cache they +could raid?</p> + +<p>"From the Throgs," the other answered matter of factly.</p> + +<p>"But they don't eat our kind of food...."</p> + +<p>"All the more reason for them to leave the camp supplies +untouched."</p> + +<p>"The camp?"</p> + +<p>For the first time Thorvald's lips curved in a shadow smile +which was neither joyous nor warming. "A native raid on an +invaders' camp. What could be more natural? And we'd +better make it soon."</p> + +<p>"But how can we?" To Shann what the other proposed +was sheer madness.</p> + +<p>"There was once an ancient service corps on Terra," Thorvald +answered, "which had a motto something like this:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> +'The improbable we do at once; the impossible takes a little +longer.' What did you think we were going to do? Sulk +around out here in the bush and let the Throgs claim Warlock +for one of their pirate bases without opposition?"</p> + +<p>Since that was the only future Shann had visualized, he +was ready enough to admit the truth, only some shade of +tone in the officer's voice kept him from saying so aloud.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="SORTIE" id="SORTIE"></a>4. SORTIE</h2> + + +<p>Five days later they came up from the south so that this time +Shann's view of the Terran camp was from a different angle. +At first sight there had been little change in the general scene. +He wondered if the aliens were using the Terran dome +shelters themselves. Even in the twilight it was easy to pick +out such landmarks as the com dome with the shaft of a +broadcaster spearing from its top and the greater bulk of the +supply warehouse.</p> + +<p>"Two of their small flyers down on the landing field...." +Thorvald materialized from the shadow, his voice a thread of +whisper.</p> + +<p>By Shann's side the wolverines were moving restlessly. +Since Taggi's attack on the Throg neither beast would venture +near any site where they could scent the aliens. This was the +nearest point to which the men could urge either animal, +which was a disappointment, for the wolverines would have +been an excellent addition to the surprise sortie they planned +for tonight, halving the danger for the men.</p> + +<p>Shann ran his fingers across the coarse fur on the animals' +shoulders, exerting a light pressure to signal them to wait. But +he was not sure of their obedience. The foray was a crazy +idea, and Shann wondered again why he had agreed to it. Yet +he had gone along with Thorvald, even suggested a few modifications<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> +and additions of his own, such as the contents of the +crude leaf sack now resting between his knees.</p> + +<p>Thorvald flitted away, seeking his own post to the west. +Shann was still waiting for the other's signal when there arose +from the camp a sound to chill the flesh of any listener, a wail +which could not have come from the throat of any normal +living thing, intelligent being or animal. Ululating in ear-torturing +intensity, the cry sank to a faint, ominous echo of +itself, to waver up the scale again.</p> + +<p>The wolverines went mad. Shann had witnessed their +quick kills in the wilds, but this stark ferocity of spitting, howling +rage was new. They answered that challenge from the +camp, streaking out from under his hands. Yet both animals +skidded to a stop before they passed the first dome and were +lost in the gloom. A spark glowed for an instant to his right; +Thorvald was ready to go, so Shann had no time to try and +recall the animals.</p> + +<p>He fumbled for those balls of soaked moss in his leaf bag. +The chemical smell from them blotted out that alien mustiness +which the wind brought from the campsite. Shann readied +the first sopping mess in his sling, snapped his fire sparker at +it, and had the ball awhirl for a toss almost in one continuous +movement. The moss burst into fire as it curved out and fell.</p> + +<p>To a witness it might have seemed that the missile materialized +out of the air, the effect being better than Shann had +hoped.</p> + +<p>A second ball for the sling—spark ... out ... down. The +first had smashed on the ground near the dome of the com +station, the force of impact flattening it into a round splatter +of now fiercely burning material. And his second, carefully +aimed, lit two feet beyond.</p> + +<p>Another wail tearing at the nerves. Shann made a third +throw, a fourth. He had an audience now. In the light of those +pools of fire the Throgs were scuttling back and forth, their +hunched bodies casting weird shadows on the dome walls. +They were making efforts to douse the fires, but Shann knew +from careful experimentation that once ignited the stuff<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> +he had skimmed from the lip of one of the hot springs would +go on burning as long as a fraction of its viscid substance remained +unconsumed.</p> + +<p>Now Thorvald had gone into action. A Throg suddenly +halted, struggled frantically, and toppled over into the edge +of a fire splotch, legs looped together by the coils of the curious +weapon Thorvald had put together on their first night of +partnership. Three round stones of comparable weight had +each been fastened at the end of a vine cord, and those cords +united at a center point. Thorvald had demonstrated the +effectiveness of his creation by bringing down one of the +small "deer" of the grasslands, an animal normally fleet enough +to feel safe from both human and animal pursuit. And those +weighted ropes now trapped the Throg with the same efficiency.</p> + +<p>Having shot his last fireball, Shann ran swiftly to take up a +new position, downgrade and to the east of the domes. Here +he put into action another of the primitive weapons Thorvald +had devised, a spear hurled with a throwing stick, giving it +double range and twice as forceful penetration power. The +spears themselves were hardly more than crudely shaped +lengths of wood, their points charred in the fire. Perhaps these +missiles could neither kill nor seriously wound. But more than +one thudded home in a satisfactory fashion against the curving +back carapace or the softer front parts of a Throg in a +manner which certainly shook up and bruised the target. And +one of Shann's victims went to the ground, to lie kicking in a +way which suggested he had been more than just bruised.</p> + +<p>Fireballs, spears.... Thorvald had moved too. And now +down into the somewhat frantic melee of the aroused camp +fell a shower of slim weighted reeds, each provided with a +clay-ball head. The majority of those balls broke on landing +as the Terrans had intended. So, through the beetle smell of +the aliens, spread the acrid, throat-parching fumes of the hot +spring water. Whether those fumes had the same effect upon +Throg breathing apparatus as they did upon Terran, the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> +attackers could not tell, but they hoped such a bombardment +would add to the general confusion.</p> + +<p>Shann began to space the hurling of his crude spears with +more care, trying to place them with all the precision of aim +he could muster. There was a limit to their amount of varied +ammunition, although they had dedicated every waking moment +of the past few days to manufacture and testing. Luckily +the enemy had had none of their energy beams at the domes. +And so far they had made no move to lift their flyers for +retaliation blasts.</p> + +<p>But the Throgs were pulling themselves into order. +Blaster fire cut the dusk. Most of the aliens were now flat on +the ground, sending a creeping line of fire into the perimeter +of the camp area. A dark form moved between Shann and +the nearest patch of burning moss. The Terran raised a spear +to the ready before he caught a whiff of the pungent scent +emitted by a wolverine hot with battle rage. He whistled +coaxingly. With the Throgs eager to blast any moving thing, +the animals were in danger if they prowled about the scene.</p> + +<p>That blunt head moved. Shann caught the glint of eyes in +a furred mask; it was either Taggi or his mate. Then a puff +of mixed Throng and chemical scent from the camp must have +reached the wolverine. The animal coughed and fled westward, +passing Shann.</p> + +<p>Had Thorvald had time and opportunity to make his +planned raid on the supply dome? Time during such an embroilment +was hard to measure, and Shann could not be sure. +He began to count aloud, slowly, as they had agreed. When +he reached one hundred he would begin his retreat; on two +hundred he was to run for it, his goal the river a half mile +from the camp.</p> + +<p>The stream would take the fugitives to the sea where fiords +cut the coastline into a ragged fringe offering a wealth of +hiding places. Throgs seldom explored any territory on foot. +For them to venture into that maze would be putting themselves +at the mercy of the Terrans they hunted. And their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> +flyers could comb the air above such a rocky wilderness without +result.</p> + +<p>Shann reached the count of one hundred. Twice a blaster +bolt singed ground within distance close enough to make him +wince, but most of the fire carried well above his head. All +of his spears were gone, save for one he had kept, hoping +for a last good target. One of the Throgs who appeared to be +directing the fire of the others was facing Shann's position. +And on pure chance that he might knock out that leader, +Shann chose him for his victim.</p> + +<p>The Terran had no illusions concerning his own marksmanship. +The most he could hope for, he thought, was to +have the primitive weapon thud home painfully on the other's +armored hide. Perhaps, if he were very lucky, he could knock +the other from his clawed feet. But that chance which hovers +over any battlefield turned in Shann's favor. At just the right +moment the Throg stretched his head up from the usual +hunched position where the carapace extended over his wide +shoulders to protect one of the alien's few vulnerable spots, +the soft underside of his throat. And the fire-sharpened point +of the spear went deep.</p> + +<p>Throgs were mute, or at least none of them had ever uttered +a vocal sound to be reported by Terrans. This one did not +cry out. But he staggered forward, forelimbs up, clawed +digits pulling at the wooden pin transfixing his throat just +under the mandible-equipped jaw, holding his head at an +unnatural angle. Without seeming to notice the others of his +kind, the Throg came on at a shambling run, straight at +Shann as if he could actually see through the dark and had +marked down the Terran for personal vengeance. There was +something so uncanny about that forward dash that Shann +retreated. As his hand groped for the knife at his belt his boot +heel caught in a tangle of weed and he struggled for balance. +The wounded Throg, still pulling at the spear shaft protruding +above the swelling barrel of his chest, pounded on.</p> + +<p>Shann sprawled backward and was caught in the elastic +embrace of a bush, so he did not strike the ground. He fought<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> +the grip of prickly branches and kicked to gain solid earth +under his feet. Then again he heard that piercing wail from +the camp, as chilling as it had been the first time. Spurred by +that, he won free. But he could not turn his back on the +wounded Throg, keeping rather a sidewise retreat.</p> + +<p>Already the alien had reached the dark beyond the rim of +the camp. His progress now was marked by the crashing +through low brush. Two of the Throgs back on the firing line +started up after their leader. Shann caught a whiff of their +odor as the wounded alien advanced with the single-mindedness +of a robot.</p> + +<p>It would be best to head for the river. Tall grass twisted +about the Terran's legs as he began to run. In spite of the +gloom, he hesitated to cross that open space. At night Warlock's +peculiar vegetation displayed a very alien attribute—ten ... twenty +varieties of grass, plant, and tree emitted a +wan phosphorescence, varying in degree, but affording each +an aura of light. And the path before Shann now was dotted +by splotches of that radiance, not as brilliant as the chemical-born +flames the attackers had kindled in the camp, but as +quick to betray the unwary who passed within their dim +circles. And there had never been any reason to believe that +Throg powers of sight were less than human; there was perhaps +some evidence to the contrary. Shann crouched, charting +the clumps ahead for a zigzag course which would take +him to at least momentary safety in the river bed.</p> + +<p>Perhaps a mile downstream was the transport the Terrans +had cobbled together no earlier than this afternoon, a raft +Thorvald had professed to believe would support them to the +sea which lay some fifty Terran miles to the west. But now +he had to cover that mile.</p> + +<p>The wolverines? Thorvald? There was one lure which might +draw the animals on to the rendezvous. Taggi had brought +down a "deer" just before they had left the raft. And instead +of allowing both beasts to feast at leisure, Shann had lashed +the carcass to the shaky platform of wood and brush, putting<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> +it out to swing in the current, though still moored to the bank.</p> + +<p>Wolverines always cached that part of the kill which they +did not consume at the first eating, usually burying it. He had +hoped that to leave the carcass in such a way would draw +both animals back to the raft when they were hungry. And +they had not fed particularly well that day.</p> + +<p>Thorvald? Well, the Survey officer had made it very plain +during the past five days of what Shann had come to look +upon as an uneasy partnership that he considered himself far +abler to manage in the field, while he had grave doubts of +Shann's efficiency in the direction of survival potential.</p> + +<p>The Terran started along the pattern of retreat he had laid +out to the river bed. His heart pounded as he ran, not because +of the physical effort he was expending, but because again +from the camp had come that blood-freezing howl. A lighter +line marked the lip of the cut in which the stream was set, +something he had not foreseen. He threw himself down to +crawl the last few feet, hugging the earth.</p> + +<p>That very pale luminescence was easily accounted for by +what lay below. Shann licked his lips and tasted the sting of +sap smeared on his face during his struggle with the bushes. +While the strip of meadow behind him now had been spotted +with light plants, the cut below showed an almost solid line +of them stringing willow-wise along the water's edge. To go +down at this point was simply to spotlight his presence for any +Throg on his trail. He could only continue along the upper +bank, hoping to finally find an end to the growth of luminescent +vegetation below.</p> + +<p>Shann was perhaps five yards from the point where he had +come to the river, when a commotion behind made him freeze +and turn his head cautiously. The camp was half hidden, and +the fires there must be dying. But a twisting, struggling mass +was rolling across the meadow in his general direction.</p> + +<p>Thorvald fighting off an attack? The wolverines? Shann +drew his legs under him, ready to erupt into a counter-offensive.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> +He hesitated between drawing stunner or knife. In his +brush with the injured Throg at the wreck the stunner had +had little impression on the enemy. And now he wondered if +his blade, though it was super-steel at its toughest, could +pierce any joint in the armored bodies of the aliens.</p> + +<p>There was surely a fight in progress. The whole crazily +weaving blot collapsed and rolled down upon three bright +light plants. Dull sheen of Throg casing was revealed ... +no sign of fur, or flesh, or clothing. Two of the aliens battling? +But why?</p> + +<p>One of those figures got up stiffly, bent over the huddle +still on the ground, and pulled at something. The wooden +shaft of Shann's spear was wanly visible. And the form on +the ground did not stir as that was jerked loose. The Throg +leader dead? Shann hoped so. He slid his knife back into the +sheath, tapped the hilt to make sure it was firmly in place, +and crawled on. The river, twisting here and there, was a +promising pool of dusky shadow ahead. The bank of willow-things +was coming to an end, and none too soon. For when he +glanced back again he saw another Throg run across the +meadow, and he watched them lift their fellow, carrying him +back to camp.</p> + +<p>The Throgs might seem indestructible, but he had put an +end to one, aided by luck and a very rough weapon. With +that to bolster his self-confidence to a higher notch, Shann +dropped by cautious degrees over the bank and down to the +water's edge. When his boots splashed into the oily flood he +began to tramp downstream, feeling the pull of the water, +first ankle high and then about his calves. This early in the +season they did hot have to fear floods, and hereabouts the +stream was wide and shallow, save in mid-current at the +center point.</p> + +<p>Twice more he had to skirt patches of light plants, and +once a young tree stood bathed in radiance with a pinkish +tinge instead of the usual ghostly gray. Within the haze +which tented the drooping branches, flitted small glittering,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> +flying things; and the scent of its half-open buds was heavy +on the air, neither pleasant nor unpleasant in Shann's nostrils, +merely different.</p> + +<p>He dared to whistle, a soft call he hoped would carry along +the cut between the high banks. But, though he paused and +listened until it seemed that every cell in his thin body was +occupied in that act, he heard no answering call from the +wolverines, nor any suggestion that either the animals or +Thorvald were headed in the direction of the raft.</p> + +<p>What was he going to do if none of the others joined him +downstream? Thorvald had said not to linger there past daylight. +Yet Shann knew that unless he actually sighted a Throg +patrol splashing after him he would wait until he made sure +of the others' fate. Both Taggi and Togi were as important to +him as the Survey officer. Perhaps more so, he told himself +now, because he understood them to a certain degree and +found companionship in their undemanding company which +he could not claim from the man.</p> + +<p>Why <i>did</i> Thorvald insist upon their going on to the seashore? +To Shann's mind his own first plan of holing up back in +the eastern mountains was better. Those heights had as many +hiding places as the fiord country. But Thorvald had suddenly +become so set on this westward trek that he had given +in. As much as he inwardly rebelled when he took them, he +found himself obeying the older man's orders. It was only +when he was alone, as now, that he began to question both +Thorvald's motives and his authority.</p> + +<p>Three sprigs of a light bush set in a triangle. Shann paused +and then climbed out on the bank, shaking the water from +his boots as Taggi might shake such drops from a furred limb. +This was the sign they had set to mark their rendezvous +point, but....</p> + +<p>Shann whirled, drawing his stunner. The raft was a dark +blob on the surface of the water some feet farther on. And +now it was bobbing up and down violently. That was not the +result of any normal tug of current. He heard an indignant +squeal and relaxed with a little laugh. He need not have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> +worried about the wolverines; that bait had drawn them all +right. Both of them were now engaged in eating, though they +had to conduct their feast on the rather shaky foundation of +the makeshift transport.</p> + +<p>They paid no attention as he waded out, pulling at the +anchor cord as he went. The wind must have carried his +familiar scent to them. As the water climbed to his shoulders +Shann put one hand on the outmost log of the raft. One of +the animals snarled a warning at being disturbed. Or had +that been at him?</p> + +<p>Shann stood where he was, listening intently. Yes, there +was a splashing sound from upstream. Whoever followed his +own recent trail was taking no care to keep that pursuit a +secret, and the pace of the newcomer was fast enough to spell +trouble.</p> + +<p>Throgs? Tensely the Terran waited for some reaction from +the wolverines. He was sure that if the aliens had followed +him, both animals would give warning. Save when they had +gone wild upon hearing that strange wail from the camp, +they avoided meeting the enemy.</p> + +<p>But from all sounds the animals had not stopped feeding. +So the other was no beetle-head. On the other hand, why +would Thorvald so advertise his coming, unless the need for +speed was greater than caution? Shann drew taut the mooring +cord, bringing out his knife to saw through that tough +length. A figure passed the three-sprig signal, ran onto the +raft.</p> + +<p>"Lantee?" The call came in a hoarse, demanding whisper.</p> + +<p>"Here."</p> + +<p>"Cut loose. We have to get out of here!"</p> + +<p>Thorvald flung himself forward, and together the men +scrambled up on the raft. The mangled carcass plunged into +the water, dislodged by their efforts. But before the wolverines +could follow it, the mooring vine snapped, and the river +current took them. Feeling the raft sway and begin to spin, +the wolverines whined, crouched in the middle of what +now seemed a very frail craft.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p> + +<p>Behind them, far away but too clear, sounded that eerie +howling, topping the sigh of the night wind.</p> + +<p>"I saw——" Thorvald gasped, pausing as if to catch full +lungfuls of air to back his words, "they have a 'hound!' That's +what you hear."</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="PURSUIT" id="PURSUIT"></a>5. PURSUIT</h2> + + +<p>As the raft revolved slowly it also slipped downstream at a +steadily increasing pace, for the current had them in hold. +The wolverines pressed close to Shann until the musky scent +of their fur, their animal warmth, enveloped him. One growled +deep in its throat, perhaps in answer to that wind-borne wail.</p> + +<p>"Hound?" Shann asked.</p> + +<p>Beside him in the dark Thorvald was working loose one of +the poles they had readied to help control the raft's voyaging. +The current carried them along, but there was a need for +those lengths of sapling to fend them free from rocks and +water-buried snags.</p> + +<p>"What hound?" the younger man demanded more sharply +when there came no immediate answer.</p> + +<p>"The Throgs' tracker. But why did they import one?" Thorvald's +puzzlement was plain in his tone. He added a moment +later, with some of his usual firmness, "We may be in +for bad trouble now. Use of a hound means an attempt to take +prisoners——"</p> + +<p>"Then they do not know that we are here, as Terrans, I +mean?"</p> + +<p>Thorvald seemed to be sorting out his thoughts when he +replied to that. "They could have brought a hound here just +on chance that they might miss one of us in the initial mop-up. +Or, if they believe we are natives, they could want a +specimen for study."</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't they just blast down Terrans on sight?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p> + +<p>Shann saw the dark blot which was Thorvald's head shake +in negation.</p> + +<p>"They might need a live Terran—badly and soon."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"To operate the camp call beam."</p> + +<p>Shann's momentary bewilderment vanished. He knew +enough of Survey procedure to guess the reason for such a +move on the part of the aliens.</p> + +<p>"The settler transport?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, the ship. She won't planet here without the proper +signal. And the Throgs can't give that. If they don't take her, +their time's run out before they have even made a start here."</p> + +<p>"But how could they know that the transport is nearly +due? When we intercept their calls they're pure gibberish to +us. Can they read our codes?"</p> + +<p>"The supposition is that they can't. Only, concerning +Throgs, all we know is supposition. Anyway, they do know +the routine for establishing a Terran colony, and we can't +alter that procedure except in small nonessentials," Thorvald +said grimly. "If that transport doesn't pick up the proper +signal to set down here on schedule, her captain will call in +the patrol escort ... then exit one Throg base. But if the +beetle-heads can trick the ship in and take her, then they'll +have a clear five or six more months here to consolidate their +own position. After that it would take more than just one +patrol cruiser to clear Warlock; it will require a fleet. So the +Throgs will have another world to play with, and an important +one. This lies on a direct line between the Odin and +Kulkulkan systems. A Throg base on such a trade route +could eventually cut us right out of this quarter of the galaxy."</p> + +<p>"So you think they want to capture us in order to bring +the transport in?"</p> + +<p>"By our type of reasoning, that would be a logical move—<i>if</i> +they know we are here. They haven't too many of those +hounds, and they don't risk them on petty jobs. I'd hoped +we'd covered our trail well. But we had to risk that attack +on the camp.... I needed the map case!" Again Thorvald<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> +might have been talking to himself. "Time ... and the right +maps—" he brought his fist down on the raft, making the +platform tremble—"that's what I have to have now."</p> + +<p>Another patch of light-willows stretched along the river-banks, +and as they sailed through that ribbon of ghostly +radiance they could see each other's faces. Thorvald's was +bleak, hard, his eyes on the stream behind them as if he expected +at any moment to see a Throg emerge from the surface +of the water.</p> + +<p>"Suppose that thing—" Shann pointed upstream with his +chin—"follows us? What is it anyway?" Hound suggested +Terran dog, but he couldn't stretch his imagination to believe +in a working co-operation between Throg and any mammal.</p> + +<p>"A rather spectacular combination of toad and lizard, with +a few other grisly touches, is about as close as you can get to +a general description. And that won't be too accurate, because +like the Throgs its remote ancestors must have been of +the insect family. If the thing follows us, and I think we can +be sure that it will, we'll have to take steps. There is always +this advantage—those hounds cannot be controlled from a +flyer, and the beetle-heads never take kindly to foot slogging. +So we won't have to expect any speedy chase. If it slips its +masters in rough country, we can try to ambush it." In the dim +light Thorvald was frowning. "I flew over the territory ahead +on two sweeps, and it is a queer mixture. If we can reach the +rough country bordering the sea, we'll have won the first +round. I don't believe that the Throgs will be in a hurry to +track us in there. They'll try two alternatives to chasing us +on foot. One, use their energy beams to rake any suspect +valley, and since there are hundreds of valleys all pretty +much alike, that will take some time. Or they can attempt to +shake us out with a dumdum should they have one here, +which I doubt."</p> + +<p>Shann tensed. The stories of the effects of the Throg's dumdum +weapon were anything but pretty.</p> + +<p>"And to get a dumdum," Thorvald continued as if he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> +were discussing a purely theoretical matter and not a threat +of something worse than death, "They'll have to bring in one +of their major ships. Which they will hesitate to do with a +cruiser near at hand. Our own danger spot now is the section +we should strike soon after dawn tomorrow if the rate of this +current is what I have timed it. There is a band of desert on +this side of the mountains. The river gorge deepens there and +the land is bare. Let them send a ship over and we could be +as visible as if we were sending up flares——"</p> + +<p>"How about taking cover now and going on only at +night?" suggested Shann.</p> + +<p>"Ordinarily, I'd say yes. But with time pressing us now, +no. If we keep straight on, we could reach the foothills in +about forty hours, maybe less. And we have to stay with the +river. To strike across country there without good supplies and +on foot is sheer folly."</p> + +<p>Two days. With perhaps the Throgs unleashing their +hound on land, combing from their flyers. With a desert.... +Shann put out his hands to the wolverines. The prospect certainly +didn't seem anywhere near as simple as it had the +night before when Thorvald had planned this escape. But +then the Survey officer had left out quite a few points which +were not pertinent. Was he also leaving out other essentials? +Shann wanted to ask, but somehow he could not.</p> + +<p>After a while he dozed, his head resting on his knees. He +awoke, roused out of a vivid dream, a dream so detailed and +so deeply impressed in a picture on his mind that he was confused +when he blinked at the riverbank visible in the half-light +of early dawn.</p> + +<p>Instead of that stretch of earth and ragged vegetation now +gliding past him as the raft angled along, he should have +been fronting a vast skull stark against the sky—a skull whose +outlines were oddly inhuman, from whose eyeholes issued +and returned flying things while its sharply protruding lower +jaw was lapped by water. In color that skull had been a +violent clash of blood-red and purple. Shann blinked again at +the riverbank, seeing transposed on it still that ghostly haze<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> +of bone-bare dome, cavernous eyeholes and nose slit, fanged +jaws. That skull was a mountain, or a mountain was a skull—and +it was important to him; he must locate it!</p> + +<p>He moved stiffly, his legs and arms cramped but not cold. +The wolverines stirred on either side of him. Thorvald continued +to sleep, curled up beyond, the pole still clasped in +his hands. A flat map case was slung by a strap about his neck, +its thin envelope between his arm and his body as if for safekeeping. +On the smooth flap was the Survey seal, and it was +fastened with a finger lock.</p> + +<p>Thorvald had lost some of the bright hard surface he had +shown at the spaceport where Shann had first sighted him. +There were hollows in his cheeks, sending into high relief +those bone ridges beneath his eye sockets, giving him a faint +resemblance to the skull of Shann's dream. His face was +grimed, his field uniform stained and torn. Only his hair was +as bright as ever.</p> + +<p>Shann smeared the back of his hand across his own face, +not doubting that he must present an even more disreputable +appearance. He leaned forward cautiously to look into the +water, but that surface was not quiet enough to act as a +mirror.</p> + +<p>Getting to his feet as the raft bobbed under his shift of +weight, Shann studied the territory now about them. He +could not match Thorvald's inches, just as he must have a +third less bulk than the officer, but standing, he could sight +something of what now lay beyond the rising banks of the +cut. That grass which had been so thick in the meadowlands +around the camp had thinned into separate clumps, pale +lavender in color. And the scrawniness of stem and blade suggested +dehydration and poor soil. The earth showing between +those clumps was not of the usual blue, but pallid, too, +bleached to gray, while the bushes along the stream's edge +were few and smaller. They must have crossed the line into +the desert Thorvald had promised.</p> + +<p>Shann edged around to face west. There was light enough +in the sky to sight tall black pyramids waiting. They had to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> +reach those distant mountains, mountains whose feet on the +other side were resting in sea water. He studied them carefully, +surveying each peak he could separate from its fellows.</p> + +<p>Did the skull lie among them? The conviction that the place +he had seen in his dream was real, that it was to be found on +Warlock, persisted. Not only was it a definite feature of +the landscape somewhere in the wild places of this world, but +it was also necessary for him to locate it. Why? Shann puzzled +over that, with a growing uneasiness which was not quite fear, +not yet, anyway.</p> + +<p>Thorvald moved. The raft tilted and the wolverines became +growly. Shann sat down, one hand out to the officer's +shoulder in warning. Feeling that touch Thorvald shifted, +one hand striking out blindly in a blow which Shann was just +able to avoid while with the other he pinned the map case yet +tighter to him.</p> + +<p>"Take it easy!" Shann urged.</p> + +<p>The other's eyelids flicked. He looked up, but not as if he +saw Shann at all.</p> + +<p>"The Cavern of the Veil——" he muttered. "Utgard...." +Then his eyes did focus and he sat up, gazing around him +with a frown.</p> + +<p>"We're in the desert," Shann announced.</p> + +<p>Thorvald got up, balancing on feet planted a little apart, +looking to the faded expanse of the waste spreading from the +river cut. He stared at the mountains before he squatted +down to fumble with the lock of the map case.</p> + +<p>The wolverines were growing restless, though they still did +not try to move about too freely on the raft, greeting Shann +with vocal complaint. He and Thorvald could satisfy their +hunger with a handful of concentrates from the survival kit. +But those dry tablets could not serve the animals. Shann +studied the terrain with more knowledge than he had possessed +a week earlier. This was not hunting land, but there +remained the bounty of the river.</p> + +<p>"We'll have to feed Taggi and Togi," he broke the silence<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> +abruptly. "If we don't, they'll be into the river and off on +their own."</p> + +<p>Thorvald glanced up from one of the tough, thin sheets of +map skin, again as if he had been drawn back from some +distance. His eyes moved from Shann to the unpromising +shore.</p> + +<p>"How? With what?" he wanted to know. Then the real +urgency of the situation must have penetrated his mental +isolation. "You have an idea——?"</p> + +<p>"There's those fish we found them eating back by the +mountain stream," Shann said, recalling an incident of a few +days earlier. "Rocks here, too, like those the fish were hiding +under. Maybe we can locate some of them here."</p> + +<p>He knew that Thorvald would be reluctant to work the +raft in shore, to spare time for such hunting. But there would +be no arguing with hungry wolverines, and he did not propose +to lose the animals for the officer's whim.</p> + +<p>However, Thorvald did not protest. They poled the raft +out of the main pull of the current, sending it in toward the +southern shore in the lee of a clump of light-willows. Shann +scrambled ashore, the wolverines after him, sniffling along at +his heels while he overturned likely looking rocks to unroof +some odd underwater dwellings. The fish with the rudimentary +legs were present and not agile enough even in their +native element to avoid well-clawed paws which scooped +them neatly out of the river shallows. There was also a sleek +furred creature with a broad flat head and paddle-equipped +forepaws, rather like a miniature seal, which Taggi appropriated +before Shann had a chance to examine it closely. In +fact, the wolverines wrought havoc along a half-mile +section of bank before the Terran could coax them back to +the raft.</p> + +<p>As they hunted, Shann got a better idea of the land about +the river. It was sere, the vegetation dwindling except for +some rough spikes of things pushing through the parched +ground like flayed fingers, their puffed redness in contrast to +the usual amethystine coloring of Warlock's growing things.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> +Under the climbing sun that whole stretch of country was +revealed in a stark bareness which at first repelled, and then +began to interest him.</p> + +<p>He discovered Thorvald standing on the upper bluff, looking +out toward the waiting mountains. The officer turned as +Shann urged the wolverines to the raft, and when he jumped +down the drop to join them, Shann saw he carried a map +strip unrolled in his hand.</p> + +<p>"The situation is not as good as we hoped," he told the +younger man. "Well have to leave the river to cross the +heights."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"There're rapids—bending in a falls." The officer squatted +down, spreading out the strip and making stabs at it with a +nervous finger tip. "Here we have to leave. This is all rough +ground. But lying to the south there's a gap which may be a +pass. This was made from an aerial survey."</p> + +<p>Shann knew enough to realize to what extent such a guide +could go wrong. Main features of the landscape would be +clear enough from aloft, but there might be unsurmountable +difficulties at ground level which were not distinguishable from +the air. Yet Thorvald had planned this journey as if he had +already explored their escape route and that it was as open +and easy as a stroll down Tyr's main transport way. Why was +it so necessary that they try to reach the sea? However, since +he had no objection to voice except a dislike for indefinite +information, Shann did not question the other's calm assumption +of command, not yet, anyway.</p> + +<p>As they embarked and worked back into the current, Shann +studied his companion. Thorvald had freely listed the difficulties +lying before them. Yet he did not seem in the least +worried about their being able to win through to the sea—or +if he was, his outer shell of unconcern remained uncracked. +Before their first day together had ended, the younger Terran +had learned that to Thorvald he was only another tool, to be +used by the Survey officer in some project which the other +believed of primary importance. And his resentment of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> +valuation was under control so far. He valued Thorvald's +knowledge, but the other's attitude chilled and rebuffed his +need for something more than a half partnership of work.</p> + +<p>Why had Thorvald come back to Warlock in the first place? +And why had it been necessary for him to risk his life—perhaps +more than his life if their theory was correct concerning +the Throgs' wish to capture a Terran—to get that +set of maps from the plundered camp? When he had first +talked of that raid, his promised loot had been supplies to fill +their daily needs; there had been no mention of maps. By all +signs Thorvald was engaged on some mission. And what +would happen if he, Shann, suddenly stopped being the +other's obedient underling and demanded a few explanations +here and now?</p> + +<p>Only Shann knew enough about men to also know that he +would not get any information out of Thorvald that the latter +was not ready to give, and that such a showdown, coming +prematurely, would only end in his own discomfiture. He +smiled wryly now, remembering his emotions when he had +first seen Ragnar Thorvald months ago. As if the officer ever +considered the likes, dislikes—or dreams—of one Shann Lantee. +No, reality and dreams seldom approached each other. +Dreams....</p> + +<p>"On any of those shoreline maps," he asked suddenly, "do +they have marked a mountain shaped like a skull?"</p> + +<p>Thorvald thrust with his pole. "Skull?" he repeated, a +little absently, as he so often did in answer to Shann's questions +unless they dealt with some currently important matter.</p> + +<p>"A queer sort of skull," Shann said. Just as vividly as +when he had first awakened, he could picture that skull +mountain with the flying things about its eye sockets. And +that, too, was odd; dream impressions usually faded with +the passing of waking hours. "It has a protruding lower jaw +and the waves wash that ... red-and-purple rock——"</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>He had Thorvald's complete attention now.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Where did you hear about it?" That demand followed +quickly.</p> + +<p>"I didn't hear about it. I dreamed of it last night. I stood +there right in front of it. There were birds—or things flying +like birds—going in and out of the <ins class="corr" title="Hyphen removed in line with majority usage.">eyeholes</ins>——"</p> + +<p>"What else?" Thorvald leaned across his pole, his eyes alive, +avid, as if he would pull the reply he wanted out of Shann by +force.</p> + +<p>"That was all I remember—the skull mountain." He did not +add his other impression, that he was meant to find that +skull, that he <i>must</i> find it.</p> + +<p>"Nothing...." Thorvald paused, and then spoke slowly, +with a visible reluctance. "Nothing else? No cavern with a +green veil—a wide green veil—strung across it?"</p> + +<p>Shann shook his head. "Just the skull mountain."</p> + +<p>Thorvald looked as if he didn't quite believe that, but +Shann's expression must have been convincing, for he laughed +shortly.</p> + +<p>"Well, there goes one nice neat theory up in smoke!" he +commented. "No, your skull doesn't appear on any of our +maps, and so probably my cavern does not exist either. They +may both be smoke screens——"</p> + +<p>"What——?" But Shann never finished that query.</p> + +<p>A wind was rising in the desert to blow across the slit which +held the river, carrying with it a fine shifting of sand which +coasted down into the water as a gray haze, coating men, +animals, and raft, and sighing as snow sighs when it falls.</p> + +<p>Only that did not drown out another cry, a thin cry, diluted +by the miles of land stretching behind them, but yet carrying +that long ululating howl they had heard in the Throg camp. +Thorvald grinned mirthlessly.</p> + +<p>"The hound's on trail."</p> + +<p>He bent to the pole, using it to aid the pace of the current. +Shann, chilled in spite of the sun's heat, followed his example, +wondering if time had ceased to fight on their side.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="THE_HOUND" id="THE_HOUND"></a>6. THE HOUND</h2> + + +<p>The sun was a harsh ball of heat baking the ground and then, +in some odd manner, drawing back that same fieriness. In +the coolness of the eastern mountains Shann would not have +believed that Warlock could hold such heat. The men discarded +their jackets early as they swung to dip the poles. But +they dared not strip off the rest of their clothing lest their +skin burn. And again gusts of wind now drove sand over the +edge of the cut to blanket the water.</p> + +<p>Shann wiped his eyes, pausing in his eternal push-push, +to look at the rocks which they were passing in threatening +proximity. For the slash which held the river had narrowed. +And the rock of its walls was naked of earth, save for +sheltered pockets holding the drift of sand dust, while boulders +of all sizes cut into the path of the flowing water.</p> + +<p>He had not been mistaken; they were going faster, faster +even than their efforts with the poles would account for. With +the narrowing of the bed of the stream, the current was taking +on a new swiftness. Shann said as much and Thorvald +nodded.</p> + +<p>"We're approaching the first of the rapids."</p> + +<p>"Where we get off and walk around," Shann croaked +wearily. The dust gritted between his teeth, irritated his eyes. +"Do we stay beside the river?"</p> + +<p>"As long as we can," Thorvald replied somberly. "We have +no way of transporting water."</p> + +<p>Yes, a man could live on very slim rations of food, continue +to beat his way over a bad trail if he had the concentrate +tablets they carried. But there was no going without water, +and in this heat such an effort would finish them quickly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> +Always they both listened for another cry from behind, a +cry to tell them just how near the Throg hunting party had +come.</p> + +<p>"No Throg flyers yet," Shann observed. He had expected +one of those black plates to come cruising the moment the +hound had pointed the direction for their pursuers.</p> + +<p>"Not in a storm such as this." Thorvald, without releasing +his hold on the raft pole, pointed with his chin to the swirling +haze cloaking the air above the cut walls. Here the river dug +yet deeper into the beginning of a canyon. They could +breathe better. The dust still sifted down but not as thickly as +a half hour earlier. Though over their heads the sky was now +a grayish lid, shutting out the sun, bringing a portion of coolness +to the travelers.</p> + +<p>The Survey officer glanced from side to side, watching the +banks as if hunting for some special mark or sign. At last he +used his pole as a pointer to indicate a rough pile of boulders +ahead. Some former landslide had quarter dammed the river +at that point, and the drift of seasonal floods was caught in +and among the rocky pile to form a prickly peninsula.</p> + +<p>"In there——"</p> + +<p>They brought the raft to shore, fighting the faster current. +The wolverines, who had been subdued by the heat and the +dust, flung themselves to the rocks with the eagerness of passengers +deserting a sinking ship for certain rescue. Thorvald +settled the map case more securely between his arm and side +before he took the same leap. When they were all ashore he +prodded the raft out into the stream again, pushing the platform +along until it was sucked by the current past the line +of boulders.</p> + +<p>"Listen!"</p> + +<p>But Shann had already caught that distant rumble of sound. +It was steady, beating like some giant drum. Certainly it did +not herald a Throg ship in flight and it came from ahead, +not from their back trail.</p> + +<p>"Rapids ... perhaps even the falls," Thorvald interpreted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> +that faint thunder. "Now, let's see what kind of a road we +can find here."</p> + +<p>The tongue of boulders, spiked with driftwood, was firmly +based against the wall of the cut. But it sloped up to within +a few feet of the top of that gap, more than one landslide +having contributed to its fashioning. The landing stage paralleled +the river for perhaps some fifty feet. Beyond it water +splashed a straight wall. They would have to climb and follow +the stream along the top of the embankment, maybe being +forced well away from the source of the water.</p> + +<p>By unspoken consent they both knelt and drank deeply +from their cupped hands, splashing more of the liquid over +their heads, washing the dust from their skins. Then they +began to climb the rough assent up which the wolverines had +already vanished. The murk above them was less solid, +but again the fine grit streaked their faces, embedding itself +in their hair.</p> + +<p>Shann paused to scrape a film of mud from his lips and +chin. Then he made the last pull, bracing his slight body +against the push of the wind he met there. A palm struck +hard between his shoulders, nearly sending him sprawling. +He had only wits enough left to recognize that as an order to +get on, and he staggered ahead until rock arched over him +and the sand drift was shut off.</p> + +<p>His shoulder met solid stone, and having rubbed the sand +from his eyes, Shann realized he was in a pocket in the cliff +walls. Well overhead he caught a glimpse of natural amber +sky through a slit, but here was a twilight which thickened +into complete darkness.</p> + +<p>There was no sign of wolverines. Thorvald moved along the +pocket southward, and Shann followed him. Once more +they faced a dead end. For the crevice, with the sheer descent +to the river on the right, the cliff wall at its back, came to an +abrupt stop in a drop which caught at Shann's stomach when +he ventured to look down.</p> + +<p>If some battleship of the interstellar fleet had aimed a force +beam across the mountains of Warlock, cutting down to what<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> +lay under the first envelope of planet-skin, perhaps the resulting +wound might have resembled that slash. What had caused +such a break between the height on which they stood and +the much taller peak beyond, Shann could not guess. But it +must have been a cataclysm of spectacular dimensions. There +was certainly no descending to the bottom of that cut and +reclimbing the rock face on the other side. The fugitives would +either have to return to the river with all its ominous warnings +of trouble to come, or find some other path across that gap +which now provided such an effective barrier to the west.</p> + +<p>"Down!" Just as Thorvald had pushed him out of the murk +of the dust storm into the crevice, so now did that officer jerk +Shann from his feet, forcing him to the floor of the half cave +from which they had partially emerged.</p> + +<p>A shadow moved across the bright band of sunlit sky.</p> + +<p>"Back!" Thorvald caught at Shann again, his greater +strength prevailing as he literally dragged the younger man +into the dusk of the crevice. And he did not pause, nor allow +Shann to do so, even when they were well undercover again. +At last they reached the dark hole in the southern wall which +they had passed earlier. And a push from Thorvald sent his +companion into that.</p> + +<p>Then a blow greater than any the Survey officer had aimed +at him struck Shann. He was hurled against a rough wall with +impetus enough to explode the air from his lungs, the ensuing +pain so great that he feared his ribs had given under that +thrust. Before his eyes fire lashed down the slit, searing him +into temporary blindness. That flash was the last thing he +remembered as thick darkness closed in, shutting him into the +nothingness of unconsciousness.</p> + +<p>It hurt to breathe; he was slowly aware first of that pain +and then the fact that he <i>was</i> breathing, that he had to endure +the pain for the sake of breath. His whole body was +jarred into a dull torment as a weight pressed upon his twisted +legs. Then strong animal breath puffed into his face. Shann +lifted one hand by will power, touched thick fur, felt the +rasp of a tongue laid wetly across his fingers.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p> + +<p>Something close to terror engulfed him for a second or two +when he knew that he could not see! The black about him +was colored by jagged flashes of red which he somehow +guessed were actually inside his eyes. He groped through +that fire-pierced darkness. An animal whimper from the throat +of the shaggy body pressed against him; he answered that +movement.</p> + +<p>"Taggi?"</p> + +<p>The shove against him was almost enough to pin him once +more to the wall, a painful crush on his aching ribs, as the +wolverine responded to his name. That second nudge from +the other side must be Togi's bid for attention.</p> + +<p>But what had happened? Thorvald had hurled him back +just after that shadow had swung over the ledge. That +shadow! Shann's wits quickened as he tried to make sense of +what he could remember. A Throg ship! Then that fiery lash +which had cut after them could only have resulted from one +of those energy bolts such as had wiped out the others of his +kind at the camp. But he was still alive—!</p> + +<p>"Thorvald?" He called through his personal darkness. When +there was no answer, Shann called again, more urgently. Then +he hunched forward on his hands and knees, pushing Taggi +gently aside, running his hands over projecting rocks, uneven +flooring.</p> + +<p>His fingers touched what could only be cloth, before they +met the warmth of flesh. And he half threw himself against +the supine body of the Survey officer, groping awkwardly for +heartbeat, for some sign that the other was still living.</p> + +<p>"What——?" The one word came thickly, but Shann gave +something close to a sob of relief as he caught the faint mutter. +He squatted back on his heels, pressed his forearm +against his aching eyes in a kind of fierce will to see.</p> + +<p>Perhaps that pressure did relieve some of the blackout, +for when he blinked again, the complete dark and the fiery +trails had faded to gray, and he was sure he saw dimly a +source of light to his left.</p> + +<p>The Throg ship had fired upon them. But the aliens could<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> +not have used the full force of their weapon or neither of the +Terrans would still be alive. Which meant, Shann's thoughts +began to make sense—sense which brought apprehension—the +Throgs probably intended to disable rather than kill. They +wanted prisoners, just as Thorvald had warned.</p> + +<p>How long did the Terrans have before the aliens would +come to collect them? There was no fit landing place hereabouts +for their flyer. The beetle-heads would have to set +down at the edge of the desert land and climb the mountains +on foot. And the Throgs were not good at that. So, the fugitives +still had a measure of time.</p> + +<p>Time to do what? The country itself held them securely +captive. That drop to the southwest was one barrier. To retreat +eastward would mean running straight into the hands +of the hunters. To descend again to the river, their raft gone, +was worse than useless. There was only this side pocket in +which they sheltered. And once the Throgs arrived, they +could scoop the Terrans out at their leisure, perhaps while +stunned by a controlling energy beam.</p> + +<p>"Taggi? Togi?" Shann was suddenly aware that he had +not heard the wolverines for some time.</p> + +<p>He was answered by a weirdly muffled call—from the +south! Had the animals found a new exit? Was this niche more +than just a niche? A cave of some length, or even a passage +running back into the interior of the peaks? With that faint +hope spurring him, Shann bent again over Thorvald, able +now to make out the other's huddled form. Then he drew +the torch from the inner loop of his coat and pressed the lowest +stud.</p> + +<p>His eyes smarted in answer to that light, watered until tears +patterned the grime and dust on his cheeks. But he could +make out what lay before them, a hole leading into the cliff +face, the hole which might furnish the door to escape.</p> + +<p>The Survey officer moved, levering himself up, his eyes +screwed tightly shut.</p> + +<p>"Lantee?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Here. And there's a tunnel—right behind you. The wolverines +went that way...."</p> + +<p>To his surprise there was a thin ghost of a smile on Thorvald's +usually straight-lipped mouth. "And we'd better be +away before visitors arrive?"</p> + +<p>So he, too, must have thought his way through the sequence +of past action to the same conclusion concerning the +Throg movements.</p> + +<p>"Can you see, Lantee?" The question was painfully casual, +but a note in it, almost a reaching for reassurance, cut for the +first time through the wall which had stood between them +from their chance meeting by the wrecked ship.</p> + +<p>"Better now. I couldn't when I first came to," Shann answered +quickly.</p> + +<p>Thorvald opened his eyes, but Shann guessed that he was +as blind as he himself had been, He caught at the officer's +nearer hand, drawing it to rest on his own belt.</p> + +<p>"Grab hold!" Shann was giving the orders now. "By the +look of that opening we had better try crawling. I've a torch +on at low——"</p> + +<p>"Good enough." The other's fingers fumbled on the band +about Shann's slim waist until they gripped tight at his back. +He started on into the opening, drawing Thorvald by that +hold with him.</p> + +<p>Luckily, they did not have to crawl far, for shortly past +the entrance the fault or vein they were following became +a passage high enough for even the tall Thorvald to travel +without stooping. And then only a little later he released his +hold on Shann, reporting he could now see well enough to +manage on his own.</p> + +<p>The torch beam caught on a wall and awoke from there a +glitter which hurt their eyes—a green-gold cluster of crystals. +Several feet on, there was another flash of embedded crystals. +Those might promise priceless wealth, but neither Terran +paused to examine them more closely or touch their surfaces. +From time to time Shann whistled. And always he was answered +by the wolverines, their calls coming from ahead. So<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> +the men continued to hope that they were not walking into a +trap from which the Throgs could extract them.</p> + +<p>"Snap off your torch a moment!" Thorvald ordered.</p> + +<p>Shann obeyed. The subdued light vanished. Yet there was +still light to be seen—ahead and above.</p> + +<p>"Front door," Thorvald observed. "How do we get up?"</p> + +<p>The torch showed them that, a narrow ladder of ledges +branching off when the passage they followed took a turn to +the left and east. Afterward Shann remembered that climb +with wonder that they had actually made it, though their +advance had been slow, passing the torch from one to another +to make sure of their footing.</p> + +<p>Shann was top man when a last spurt of effort enabled him +to draw himself out into the open, his hands raw, his nails +broken and torn. He sat there, stupefied with his own weariness, +to stare about.</p> + +<p>Thorvald called impatiently, and Shann reached for the +torch to hold it for the officer. Then Thorvald crawled out; +he, too, looked around in dull surprise.</p> + +<p>On either side, peaks cut high into the amber of the sky. +But this bowl in which the men had found refuge was rich in +growing things. Though the trees were stunted, the grass grew +almost as high here as it did on the meadows of the lowlands. +Quartering the pocket valley, galloped the wolverines, expressing +in that wild activity their delight in this freedom.</p> + +<p>"Good campsite."</p> + +<p>Thorvald shook his head. "We can't stay here."</p> + +<p>And, to underline that gloomy prophesy, there issued from +that hole through which they had just come, muffled and +broken, but still threatening, the howl of the Throgs' hound.</p> + +<p>The Survey officer caught the torch from Shann's hold +and knelt to flash it into the interior of the passage. As the +beam slowly circled that opening, he held out his other arm, +measuring the size of the aperture.</p> + +<p>"When that thing gets on a hot scent"—he snapped off +the beam—"the beetle-heads won't be able to control it. There +will be no reason for them to attempt to. Those hounds obey<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> +their first orders: kill—or capture. And I think this one operates +on 'capture.' So they'll loose it to run ahead of their party."</p> + +<p>"And we move to knock it out?" Shann relied now on the +other's experience.</p> + +<p>Thorvald rose. "It would need a blaster on full power to +finish off a hound. No, we can't kill it. But we can make it a +doorkeeper to our advantage." He trotted down into the valley, +Shann beside him without understanding in the least, but +aware that Thorvald did have some plan. The officer bent, +searched the ground, and began to pull from under the loose +surface dirt one of those nets of tough vines which they had +used for cords. He thrust a double handful of this hasty harvest +into Shann's hold with a single curt order: "Twist these +together and make as thick a rope as you can!"</p> + +<p>Shann twisted, discovering to his pleased surprise that +under pressure the vines exuded a sticky purple sap which not +only coated his hands, but also acted as an adhesive for the +vines themselves so that his task was not nearly as formidable +as it had first seemed. With his force ax Thorvald cut down +two of the stunted trees and stripped them of branches, wedging +the poles into the rocks about the entrance of the hole.</p> + +<p>They were working against time, but on Thorvald's part +with practiced efficiency. Twice more that cry of the hunter +arose from the depths behind them. As the westering sun, +almost down now, shone into the valley hollow Thorvald set +up the frame of his trap.</p> + +<p>"We can't knock it out, any more than we can knock out +a Throg. But a beam from a stunner ought to slow it up long +enough for this to work."</p> + +<p>Taggi burst out of the grass, approaching the hole with +purpose. And Togi was right at his heels. Both of them +stared into that opening, drooling a little, the same eagerness +in their pose as they had displayed when hunting. Shann +remembered how that first howl of the Throg hound had +drawn both animals to the edge of the occupied camp in +spite of their marked distaste for its alien masters.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span></p> + +<p>"They're after it too." He told Thorvald what he had noted +on the night of their sortie.</p> + +<p>"Maybe they can keep it occupied," the other commented. +"But we don't want them to actually mix with it; that might +be fatal."</p> + +<p>A clamor broke out in the interior passage. Taggi snarled, +backing away a few steps before he uttered his own war cry.</p> + +<p>"Ready!" Thorvald jumped to the net slung from the poles; +Shann raised his stunner.</p> + +<p>Togi underlined her mate's challenge with a series of snarls +rising in volume. There was a tearing, scrambling sound from +within. Then Shann fired at the jack-in-the-box appearance of +a monstrous head, and Thorvald released the deadfall.</p> + +<p>The thing squalled. Ropes beat, growing taut. The wolverines +backed from jaws which snapped fruitlessly. To Shann's +relief the Terran animals appeared content to bait the now +imprisoned—or collared—horror, without venturing to make +any close attack.</p> + +<p>But he reckoned that too soon. Perhaps the stunner had +slowed up the hound's reflexes, for those jaws stilled with a +last shattering snap, the toad-lizard mask—a head which was +against all nature as the Terrans knew it—was quiet in the +strangle leash of the rope, the rest of the body serving as a +cork to fill the exit hole. Taggi had been waiting only for such +a chance. He sprang, claws ready. And Togi went in after her +mate to share the battle.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="UNWELCOME_GUIDE" id="UNWELCOME_GUIDE"></a>7. UNWELCOME GUIDE</h2> + + +<p>There was a small eruption of earth and stone as the hound +came alive, fighting to reach its tormentors. The resulting din +was deafening. Shann, avoiding by a hand's breadth a snap +of jaws with power to crush his leg into bone powder and +mangled flesh, cuffed Togi across her nose and buried his +hands in the fur about Taggi's throat as he heaved the male +wolverine back from the struggling monster. He shouted orders, +and to his surprise Togi did obey, leaving him free to +yank Taggi away. Perhaps neither wolverine had expected the +full fury of the hound.</p> + +<p>Though he suffered a slash across the back of one hand, +delivered by the over-excited Taggi, in the end Shann was +able to get both animals away from the hole, now corked so +effectively by the slavering thing. Thorvald was actually +laughing as he watched his younger companion in action.</p> + +<p>"This ought to slow up the beetles! If they haul their little +doggie back, it's apt to take out some of its rage on them, and +I'd like to see them dig around it."</p> + +<p>Considering that the monstrous head was swinging from +side to side in a collar of what seemed to be immovable rocks, +Shann thought Thorvald right. He went down on his knees +beside the wolverines, soothing them with hand and voice, +trying to get them to obey his orders willingly.</p> + +<p>"Ha!" Thorvald brought his mud-stained hands together +with a clap, the sharp sound attracting the attention of both +animals.</p> + +<p>Shann scrambled up, swung out his bleeding hand in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> +simple motion which meant to hunt, being careful to signal +down the valley westward. Taggi gave a last reluctant +growl at the hound, to be answered by one of its ear-torturing +howls, and then trotted off, Togi tagging behind.</p> + +<p>Thorvald caught Shann's slashed hand, inspecting the +bleeding cut. From the aid packet at his belt he brought out +powder and a strip of protecting plasta-flesh to cleanse and +bind the wound.</p> + +<p>"You'll do," he commented. "But we'd better get out of +here before full dark."</p> + +<p>The small paradise of the valley was no safe campsite. It +could not be so long as that monstrosity on the hillside +behind them roared and howled its rage to the darkening sky. +Trailing the wolverines, the men caught up with the animals +drinking from a small spring and thankfully shared that +water. Then they pushed on, not able to forget that somewhere +in the peaks about must lurk the Throg flyer ready to +attack on sight.</p> + +<p>Only darkness could not be held off by the will of men. +Here in the open there was no chance to use the torch. As +long as they were within the valley boundaries the phosphorescent +bushes marked a path. But by the coming of +complete darkness they were once more out in a region of +bare rock.</p> + +<p>The wolverines had killed a brace of skitterers, consuming +hide and soft bones as well as the meager flesh which was +not enough to satisfy their hunger. However, to Shann's relief, +they did not wander too far ahead. And as the men stopped +at last on a ledge where a fall of rock gave them some limited +shelter both animals crowded in against the humans, adding +the heat of their bodies to the slight comfort of that cramped +resting place.</p> + +<p>From time to time Shann was startled out of a troubled +half sleep by the howl of the hound. Luckily that sound never +seemed any louder. If the Throgs had caught up with their +hunter, and certainly they must have done so by now, they +either could not, or would not free it from the trap. Shann<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> +dozed again, untroubled by any dreams, to awake hearing +the shrieks of clak-claks. But when he studied the sky he was +able to sight none of the cliff-dwelling Warlockian bats.</p> + +<p>"More likely they are paying attention to our friend back +in the valley," Thorvald said dryly, rightly reading Shann's +glance to the clouds overhead. "Ought to keep them busy."</p> + +<p>Clak-claks were meat eaters, only they preferred their +chosen prey weak and easy to attack. The imprisoned hound +would certainly attract their kind. And those shrill cries now +belling through the mountain heights ought to draw everyone +of their species within miles.</p> + +<p>"There it is!" Thorvald, pulling himself to his feet by a rock +handhold, gazed westward, his gaunt face eager.</p> + +<p>Shann, expecting no less than a cruising Throg ship, +searched for cover on their perch. Perhaps if they flattened +themselves behind the fall of stones, they might be able to +escape attention. Yet Thorvald made no move into hiding. +And so Shann followed the line of the other's fixed stare.</p> + +<p>Before and below them lay a maze of heights and valleys, +sharp drops, and saw-toothed rises. But on the far rim of that +section of badlands shone the green of a Warlockian sea +rippling on to the only dimly seen horizon. They were now +within sight of their goal.</p> + +<p>Had they had one of the exploration sky-flitters from the +overrun camp, they could have walked its beach sands within +the hour. Instead, they fought their way through a Devil-designed +country for the next two days. Twice they had +narrow escapes from the Throg ship—or ships—which continued +to sweep across the rugged line of the coast, and only +a quick dive to cover, wasting precious time cowering like +trapped animals, saved them from discovery. But at least the +hound did not bay again on the tangled trail they left, and +they hoped that the trap and the clak-claks had put that +monster permanently out of service.</p> + +<p>On the third day they came down to one of those fiords +which tongued inland, fringing the coast. There had been no +lack of hunting in the narrow valleys through which they<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> +had threaded, so both men and wolverines were well fed. +Though animal fur wore better than the now tattered uniforms +of the men.</p> + +<p>"Now where?" Shann asked.</p> + +<p>Would he now learn the purpose driving Thorvald on to +this coastland? Certainly such broken country afforded good +hiding, but no better concealment than the mountains of the +interior.</p> + +<p>The Survey officer turned slowly around on the shingle, +studying the heights behind them as well as the angle of +the inlet where the wavelets lapped almost at their battered +boot tips. Opening his treasured map case, he began a patient +checking of landmarks against several of the strips he carried. +"We'll have to get on down to the true coast."</p> + +<p>Shann leaned against the trunk of a conical branched +mountain tree, pulling absently at the shreds of wine-colored +bark being shed in seasonal change. The chill they +had known in the upper valleys was succeeded here by a +humid warmth. Spring was becoming a summer such as this +northern continent knew. Even the fresh wind, blowing in +from the outer sea, had already lost some of the bite they had +felt two days before when its salt-laden mistiness had first +struck them.</p> + +<p>"Then what do we do there?" Shann persisted.</p> + +<p>Thorvald brought over the map, his black-rimmed nail +tracing a route down one of the fiords, slanting out to indicate +a lace of islands extending in a beaded line across the sea.</p> + +<p>"We head for these."</p> + +<p>To Shann that made no sense at all. Those islands ... why, +they would offer less chance of establishing a safe base than +the broken land in which they now stood. Even the survey +scouts had given those spots of sea-encircled earth the most +cursory examination from the air.</p> + +<p>"Why?" he asked bluntly. So far he had followed orders +because they had for the most part made sense. But he was +not giving obedience to Thorvald as a matter of rank alone.</p> + +<p>"Because there is something out there, something which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> +may make all the difference now. Warlock isn't an empty +world."</p> + +<p>Shann jerked free a long thong of loose bark, rolling it +between his fingers. Had Thorvald cracked? He knew that +the officer had disagreed with the findings of the team and +had been an unconvinced minority of one who had refused +to subscribe to the report that Warlock had no native intelligent +life and therefore was ready and waiting for human +settlement because it was technically an empty world. But +to continue to cling to that belief without a single concrete +proof was certainly a sign of mental imbalance.</p> + +<p>And Thorvald was regarding him now with frowning impatience. +You were supposed to humor delusions, weren't +you? Only, could you surrender and humor a wild idea which +might mean your death? If Thorvald wanted to go island-hopping +in chance of discovering what never had existed, +Shann need not accompany him. And if the officer tried to +use force, well, Shann was armed with a stunner, and had, he +believed, more control over the wolverines. Perhaps if he +merely gave lip agreement to this project.... Only he didn't +believe, noting the light deep in those gray eyes holding on +him, that anybody could talk Thorvald out of this particular +obsession.</p> + +<p>"You don't believe me, do you?" The impatience arose hotly +in that demand.</p> + +<p>"Why shouldn't I?" Shann tried to temporize. "You've had +a lot of exploration experience; you should know about such +things. I don't pretend to be any authority."</p> + +<p>Thorvald refolded the map and placed it in the case. Then +he pulled at the sealing of his blouse, groping in an inner +secret pocket. He uncurled his fingers to display his treasure.</p> + +<p>On his palm lay a coin-shaped medallion, bone-white but +possessing an odd luster which bone would not normally +show. And it was carved. Shann put out a finger, though he +had a strange reluctance to touch the object. When he did he +experienced a sensation close to the tingle of a mild electric<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> +shock. And once he had made that contact, he was also impelled +to pick up that disk and examine it more closely.</p> + +<p>The carved pattern was very intricate and had been done +with great delicacy and skill, though the whorls, oddly shaped +knobs, ribbon tracings, made no connected design he could +determine. After a moment or two of study, Shann became +aware that his eyes, following those twists and twirls, were +"fixed," that it required a distinct effort to look away from the +thing. Feeling some of that same alarm as he had known +when he first heard the wailing of the Throg hound, he let +the disk fall back into <ins class="corr" title="Original reads 'Thorfald'">Thorvald</ins>'s hold, even more disturbed +when he discovered that to relinquish his grasp required some +exercise of will.</p> + +<p>"What is it?"</p> + +<p>Thorvald restored the coin to his hiding place.</p> + +<p>"You tell me. I can say this much, there is no listing for +anything even remotely akin to this in the Archives."</p> + +<p>Shann's eyes widened. He absently rubbed the fingers +which had held the bone coin—if it was a coin—back and +forth across the torn front of his blouse. That tingle ... did he +still feel it? Or was his imagination at work again? But an +object not listed in the exhaustive Survey Archives would +mean some totally new civilization, a new stellar race.</p> + +<p>"It is definitely a created article," the Survey officer continued. +"And it was found on the beach of one of those sea +islands."</p> + +<p>"Throg?" But Shann already knew the answer to that.</p> + +<p>"Throg work—<i>this</i>?" Thorvald was openly scornful. "Throgs +have no conception of such art. You must have seen their +metal plates—those are the beetle-heads' idea of beauty. Have +those the slightest resemblance to this?"</p> + +<p>"Then who made it?"</p> + +<p>"Either Warlock has—or once had—a native race advanced +enough in a well-established form of civilization to develop +such a sophisticated type of art, or there have been other +visitors from space here before us and the Throgs. And the +latter possibility I don't believe<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span>——"</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Because this was carved of bone or an allied substance. +We haven't been quite able to identify it in the labs, but it is +basically organic material. It was found exposed to the +weather and yet it is in perfect condition, could have been +carved any time within the past five years. It has been +handled, yes, but not roughly. And we have come across evidences +of no other star-cruising races or species save ourselves +and the Throgs. No, I say this was made here on Warlock, not +too long ago, and by intelligent beings of a very high grade +of civilization."</p> + +<p>"But they would have cities," protested Shann. "We've +been here for months, explored all over this continent. We +would have seen them or some traces of them."</p> + +<p>"An old race, maybe," Thorvald mused, "a very old race, +perhaps in decline, reduced to a remnant in numbers with +good reason to retire into hiding. No, we've discovered no +cities, no evidence of a native culture past or present. But +this—" he touched the front of his blouse—"was found on the +shore of an island. We may have been looking in the wrong +place for our natives."</p> + +<p>"The sea...." Shann glanced with new interest at the +green water surging in wavelets along the edge of the fiord.</p> + +<p>"Just so, the sea!"</p> + +<p>"But scouts have been here for more than a year, one +team or another. And nobody saw anything or found any +traces."</p> + +<p>"All four of our base camps were set inland, our explorations +along the coast were mainly carried out by flitter, except +for one party—the one which found this. And there may +be excellent local reasons why any native never showed himself +to us. For that matter, they may not be able to exist on +land at all, any more than we could live without artificial +aids in the sea."</p> + +<p>"Now——?"</p> + +<p>"Now we must make a real attempt to find them if they do<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> +exist anywhere near here. A friendly native race could make +all the difference in the world in any struggle with the +Throgs."</p> + +<p>"Then you did have more than the dreams to back you +when you argued with Fenniston!" Shann cut in.</p> + +<p>Thorvald's eyes were on him again. "When did you hear +that, Lantee?"</p> + +<p>To his great embarrassment, Shann found himself flushing. +"I heard you, the day you left for Headquarters," he admitted, +and then added in his own defense, "Probably half the +camp did, too."</p> + +<p>Thorvald's gathering frown flickered away. He gave a +snort of laughter. "Yes, I guess we did rather get to the +bellowing point that morning. The dreams——" he came back +to the subject—"Yes, the dreams were—are—important. We +had their warning from the start. Lorry was the First-In Scout +who charted Warlock, and he is a good man. I guess I can +break secret now to tell you that his ship was equipped with +a new experimental device which recorded—well, you might +call it an "emanation"—a radiation so faint its source could +not be traced. And it registered whenever Lorry had one of +those dreams. Unfortunately, the machine was very new, very +much in the untested stage, and its performance when +checked later in the lab was erratic enough so the powers-that-be +questioned all its readings. They produced a half dozen +answers to account for that tape, and Lorry only caught the +recording as long as he was on a big bay to the south.</p> + +<p>"Then when two check flights came in later, carrying perfected +machines and getting no recordings, it was all written +off as a mistake in the first experiment. A planet such as Warlock +is too big a find to throw away when there was no proof +of occupancy. And the settlement boys rushed matters right +along."</p> + +<p>Shann recalled his own vivid dream of the skull-rock set +in the lap of water—this sea? And another small point fell into +place to furnish the beginning of a pattern. "I was asleep on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> +the raft when I dreamed about that skullmountain," he said +slowly, wondering if he were making sense.</p> + +<p>Thorvald's head came up with the alert stance of Taggi +on a strong game scent.</p> + +<p>"Yes, on the raft you dreamed of a skull-rock. And I of a +cavern with a green veil. Both of us were on water—water +which had an eventual connection with the sea. Could water +be a conductor? I wonder...." Once again his hand went into +his blouse. He crossed the strip of gravel beach and dipped +fingers into the water, letting the drops fall on the carved disk +he now held in his other hand.</p> + +<p>"What are you doing?" Shann could see no purpose in that.</p> + +<p>Thorvald did not answer. He had pressed wet hand to dry +now, palm to palm, the coin cupped tightly between them. +He turned a quarter circle, to face the still distant open sea.</p> + +<p>"That way." He spoke with a new odd tonelessness.</p> + +<p>Shann stared into the other's face. All the eager alertness +of only a moment earlier had been wiped away. Thorvald was +no longer the man he had known, but in some frightening +way a husk, holding a quite different personality. The younger +Terran answered his fear with an attack from the old days of +rough in-fighting in the Dumps of Tyr. He brought his right +hand down hard in a sharp chop across the officer's wrists. +The bone coin spun to the sand and Thorvald stumbled, staggering +forward a step or two. Before he could recover balance +Shann had stamped on the medallion.</p> + +<p>Thorvald whirled, his stunner drawn with a speed for +which Shann gave him high marks. But the younger man's +own weapon was already out and ready. And he talked—fast.</p> + +<p>"That thing's dangerous! What did you do—what did it +do to you?"</p> + +<p>His demand got through to a Thorvald who was himself +again.</p> + +<p>"What was <i>I</i> doing?" came a counter demand.</p> + +<p>"You were acting like a mind-controlled."</p> + +<p>Thorvald stared at him incredulously, then with a growing +spark of interest.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The minute you dripped water on that thing you changed," +Shann continued.</p> + +<p>Thorvald reholstered his stunner. "Yes," he mused, "why +<i>did</i> I want to drip water on it? Something prompted me...." +He ran his still damp hand up the angle of his jaw, across his +forehead as if to relieve some pain there. "What else did I +do?"</p> + +<p>"Faced to the sea and said 'that way,'" Shann replied +promptly.</p> + +<p>"And why did you move in to stop me?"</p> + +<p>Shann shrugged. "When I first touched that thing I felt a +shock. And I've seen mind-controlled——" He could have bitten +his tongue for betraying that. The world of the mind-controlled +was very far from the life Thorvald and his kind knew.</p> + +<p>"Very interesting," commented the other. "For one of so +few years you seem to have seen a lot, Lantee—and apparently +remembered most of it. But I would agree that you +are right about this little plaything; it carries a danger with +it, being far less innocent than it looks." He tore off one of the +fluttering scraps of rag which now made up his sleeve. "If +you'll just remove your foot, we'll put it out of business for +now."</p> + +<p>He proceeded to wrap the disk well in his bit of cloth, +taking care not to touch it again with his bare fingers while +he stowed it away.</p> + +<p>"I don't know what we have in this—a key to unlock a +door, a trap to catch the unwary. I can't guess how or why +it works. But we can be reasonably sure it's not just some +carefree maiden's locket, nor the equivalent of a credit to +spend in the nearest bar. So it pointed me to the sea, did it? +Well, that much I am willing to allow. Maybe we'll be able +to return it to the owner, <i>after</i> we learn who—or what—that +owner is."</p> + +<p>Shann gazed down at the green water, opaque, not to be +pierced to the depths by human sight. Anything might lurk +there. Suddenly the Throgs became normal when balanced +against an unknown living in the murky depths of an aquatic<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> +world. Another attack on the Throg-held camp could be well +preferred to such exploration as Thorvald had in mind. Yet +Shann did not voice any protest as the Survey officer faced +again in the same direction as the disk had pointed him moments +before.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="UTGARD" id="UTGARD"></a>8. UTGARD</h2> + + +<p>A wind from the west sprang up an hour before sunset, lashing +waves inland until their spray was a salt mist in the air, +a mist to sodden clothing, plaster hair to the skull, leaving a +brine slime across the skin. Yet Thorvald hunted no shelter, in +spite of the promise in the rough shoreline at their backs. The +sand in which their boots slipped and slid was coarse stuff, +hardly finer than gravel, studded with nests of drift—bone-white +or grayed or pale lavender—smoothed and stored by +the seasons of low tides and high, seasonal storms and hurricanes. +A wild shore and a forbidding one, to arouse Shann's +distrust, perhaps a fitting goal for that disk's guiding.</p> + +<p>Shann had tasted loneliness in the mountains, experienced +the strange world of the river at night lighted by the +wan radiance of glowing shrubs and plants, forced the starkness +of the heights. Yet there had been through all that journeying +a general resemblance to his own past on other worlds. +A tree was a tree, whether it bore purple foliage or was red-veined. +A rock was a rock, a river a river. They were equally +hard and wet on Warlock or Tyr.</p> + +<p>But now a veil he could not describe, even in his own +thoughts, hung between him and the sand over which he +walked, between him and the sea which sent spray to wet +his torn clothing, between him and that wild wrack of long-ago +storms. He could put out his hand and touch sand, drift, +spray; yet they were a setting where something lay hidden +behind that setting—something watched, calculatingly, with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> +intelligence, and a set of emotions and values he did not, could +not share.</p> + +<p>"... storm coming." Thorvald paused in the buffeting of +wind and spray, watching the fury of the tossing sea. The sun +was still a pale smear just above the horizon. And it gave +light enough to make out that trickle of islands melting out to +obscurity.</p> + +<p>"Utgard——"</p> + +<p>"Utgard?" Shann repeated, the strange word holding no +meaning for him.</p> + +<p>"Legend of my people." Thorvald smeared spray from his +face with one hand. "Utgard, those outermost islands where +dwell the giants who are the mortal enemies of the old gods."</p> + +<p>Those dark lumps, most of them bare rock, only a few +crowned with stunted vegetation, might well harbor <i>anything</i>, +Shann decided, giants or the malignant spirits of any +race. Perhaps even the Throgs had their tales of evil things in +the night, beetle monsters to people wild, unknown lands. He +caught at Thorvald's arm and suggested a practical course of +action.</p> + +<p>"We'll need shelter before the storm strikes." To Shann's +relief the other nodded.</p> + +<p>They trailed back across the beach, their backs now to the +sea and Utgard. That harsh-sounding name did so well fit +the line of islands and islets, Shann repeated it to himself. +Here the beach was narrow, a strip of blue sand-gravel walled +by wave-worn boulders. And from that barrier of stones piled +into a breastwork by chance, interwoven with bone-bare drift, +arose the first of the cliffs. Shann studied the terrain with increasing +uneasiness. To be caught between a sea, whipped +inland by a storm wind, and that cliff would be a risk he did +not like to consider, as ignorant of field lore as he was. They +must locate some break nearer than the fiord, down which +they had come. And they must find it soon, before the daylight +was gone and the full fury of bad weather struck.</p> + +<p>In the end the wolverines discovered an exit, just as they +had found the passage through the mountain. Taggi nosed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> +into a darker line down the face of the cliff and disappeared, +Togi duplicating that feat. Shann trailed them, finding the +opening a tight squeeze.</p> + +<p>He squirmed into dimness, his outstretched hands meeting +a rough stone surface sloping upward. After gaining a point +about eight feet above the beach he was able to look back and +down through the seaward slit. Open to the sky the crevice +proved a doorway to a narrow valley, not unlike those which +housed the fiords, but provided with a thick growth of vegetation +well protected by the high walls.</p> + +<p>Working as a now well-rehearsed team, the men set up +a shelter of saplings and brush, the back to the slit through +which wind was still able to tear a way. Walled in by +stone and knowing that no Throg flyer would attempt to fly +in the face of the coming storm, they dared make a fire. The +warmth was a comfort to their bodies, just as the light of the +flames, men's age-old hearth companion, was a comfort to the +fugitives' spirits. Those dancing spears of red, for Shann at +least, burned away that veil of other-worldliness which had +enwrapped the beach, providing in the night an illusion of +the home he had never really known.</p> + +<p>But the wind and the weather did not keep truce very long. +A wailing blast around the upper peaks produced a caterwauling +to equal the voices of half a dozen Throg hounds. +And in their poor shelter the Terrans not only heard the thunderous +boom of surf, but felt the vibration of that beat pounding +through the very ground on which they lay. The sea must +have long since covered the beach over which they had +come and was now trying its strength against the rock of the +cliff barrier. They could not talk to each other over that din, +although shoulder touched shoulder.</p> + +<p>The last flush of amber vanished from the sky with the +speed of a dropped curtain. Tonight no period of twilight +divided night from day, but their portion of Warlock was +plunged abruptly into darkness. The wolverines crowded +into their small haven, whining deep in their throats. Shann +ran his hands along their furred bodies, trying to give them a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> +reassurance he himself did not feel. Never before when on +stable land had he been so aware of the unleashed terrors +nature could exert, the forces against which all mankind's +controls were as nothing.</p> + +<p>Time could no longer be measured by any set of minutes +or hours. There was only darkness, the howling winds, and +the salty rain which must be in part the breath of the sea +driven in upon them. The comforting fire vanished, chill and +dankness crept up to cramp their bodies, so that now and +again they were forced to their feet, to swing arms, stamp, +drive the blood into faster circulation.</p> + +<p>Later came a time when the wind died, no longer driving +the rain bullet-hard against and through their flimsy shelter. +Then they slept in the thick unconsciousness of exhaustion.</p> + +<p>A red-purple skull—and from its eye sockets the flying +things—kept coming ... going.... Shann trod on an unsteady +foundation which dipped under his weight as had the +raft of the river voyage. He was drawing nearer to that great +head, could see now how waves curled about the angle of +the lower jaw, slapping inward between gaps of missing teeth—which +were really broken fangs of rock—as if the skull now +and then sucked reviving moisture from the water. The aperture +marking the nose was closer to a snout, and the hole +was dark, dark as the empty eye sockets. Yet that darkness +was drawing him past any effort to escape he could summon. +And then that on which he rode so perilously was carried forward +by the waves, grated against the jawbone, while against +his own fighting will his hands arose above his head, reaching +for a hold to draw his shrinking body up the stark surface to +that snout-passage.</p> + +<p>"Lantee!" A hand jerked him back, broke that compulsion—and +the dream. Shann opened his eyes with difficulty, his +lashes seemed glued to his cheeks.</p> + +<p>He might have been surveying a submerged world. Thin +streamers of fog twined up from the earth as if they grew +from seeds planted by the storm. But there was no wind, no +sound from the peaks. Only under his stiff body Shann could<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> +still feel that vibration which was the sea battering against +the cliff wall.</p> + +<p>Thorvald was crouched beside him, his hand still urgent +on the younger man's shoulder. The officer's face was drawn +so finely that his features, sharp under the tanned skin, were +akin to the skull Shann still half saw among the ascending +pillars of fog.</p> + +<p>"Storm's over."</p> + +<p>Shann shivered as he sat up, hugging his arms to his chest, +his tattered uniform soggy under that pressure. He felt as if +he would never be warm again. When he moved sluggishly to +the pit where they had kindled their handful of fire the night +before he realized that the wolverines were missing.</p> + +<p>"Taggi——?" His voice sounded rusty in his own ears, as if +some of the moisture thick in the air about them had affected +his vocal cords.</p> + +<p>"Hunting." Thorvald's answer was clipped. He was gathering +a handful of sticks from the back of their lean-to, where +the protection of their own bodies had kept that kindling dry. +Shann snapped a length between his hands, dropped it into +the pit.</p> + +<p>When they did coax a blaze into being they stripped, +wringing out their clothing, propping it piece by steaming +piece on sticks by the warmth of the flames. The moist air bit +at their bodies and they moved briskly, striving to keep warm +by exercise. Still the fog curled, undisturbed by any shaft of +sun.</p> + +<p>"Did you dream?" Thorvald asked abruptly.</p> + +<p>"Yes." Shann did not elaborate. Disturbing as his dream +had been, the feeling that it was not to be shared was also +strong, as strong as some order.</p> + +<p>"And so did I," Thorvald said bleakly. "You saw your +skull-mountain?"</p> + +<p>"I was climbing it when you awoke me," Shann returned +unwillingly.</p> + +<p>"And I was going through my green veil when Taggi took +off and wakened me. You are sure your skull exists?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"And so am I that the cavern of the veil is somewhere on +this world. But why?" Thorvald stood up, the firelight marking +plainly the lines between his tanned arms, his brown face and +throat, and the paleness of his lean body. "Why do we dream +those particular dreams?"</p> + +<p>Shann tested the dryness of a shirt. He had no reason to +try and explain the wherefore of those dreams, only was he +certain that he would sometime, somewhere, find that skull, +and that when he did he would climb to the doorway of the +snout, pass behind to depths where the flying things might +nest—not because he wanted to make such an expedition, +but because he must.</p> + +<p>He drew his hands across his ribs, where pressure still +brought an aching reminder of the crushing force of the +energy whip the Throgs had wielded. There was no extra +flesh on his body, yet muscles slid easily under the skin, a +darker skin than Thorvald's, deepening to a warm brown +where it had been weathered. His hair, unclipped now for a +month, was beginning to curl about his head in tight dark +rings. Since he had always been the youngest or the smallest +or the weakest in the world of the Dumps, of the Service, +of the Team, Shann had very little personal vanity. He did +possess a different type of pride, born of his own stubborn +achievement in winning out over a long roster of discouragements, +failures, and adverse odds.</p> + +<p>"Why do we dream?" he repeated Thorvald's question. "No +answer, sir." He gave the traditional reply of the Service recruit. +And a little to his surprise Thorvald laughed with a +tinge of real amusement.</p> + +<p>"Where do you come from, Lantee?" He asked as if he were +honestly interested.</p> + +<p>"Tyr."</p> + +<p>"Caldon mines." The Survey officer automatically matched +planet to product. "How did you come into Survey?"</p> + +<p>Shann drew on his shirt. "Signed on as casual labor," he +returned with a spark of defiance. Thorvald had joined the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> +Service the right way as a cadet, then a Team man, finally an +officer, climbing that nice even ladder with every rung ready +for him when he was prepared to mount it. What did his kind +know about the labor Barracks where the dull-minded, the +failures, the petty criminals on the run, lived hard under a +secret social system of their own? It had taken every bit of +physical endurance and energy, every fraction of stubborn +will Shann could summon, for him to survive his first three +months in those barracks—unbroken and still eager to be +Survey. He could still wonder at the unbelievable chance +which had rescued him from that merely because Training +Center had needed another odd hand to clean cages and feed +troughs for the experimental animals.</p> + +<p>And from the center he made a Team, because when +working in a smaller group his push and attention to duty had +been noticed and had paid off. Three years it had taken, but +he <i>had</i> made Team stature. Not that that meant anything +now. Shann pulled his boots on over the legs of rough dried +coveralls and glanced up, to find Thorvald watching him with +a new, questioning directness the younger man could not +understand.</p> + +<p>Shann sealed his blouse and stood up, knowing the bite of +hunger, dull but persistent. It was a feeling he had had so +many times in the past that now he hardly gave it a second +thought.</p> + +<p>"Supplies?" He brought the subject back to the present and +the practical. What did it matter why or how one Shann +Lantee had come to Warlock in the first place?</p> + +<p>"What we have left of the concentrates we had better keep +for emergencies." Thorvald made no move to open the very +shrunken bag he had brought from the scoutship.</p> + +<p>He walked over to a rocky outcrop and tugged loose a +yellowish tuft of plant, neither moss nor fungi but sharing attributes +of both. Shann recognized it without enthusiasm as +one of the varieties of native produce which could be safely +digested by Terran stomachs. The stuff was almost tasteless +and possessed a rather unpleasant odor. Consumed in bulk it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> +would satisfy hunger for a time. Shann hoped that with the +wolverines to aid they could go back to hunting soon.</p> + +<p>However, Thorvald showed no desire to head inland where +they might expect to locate game. He disagreed with Shann's +suggestion for tracking Taggi and Togi when those two +emerged from the underbrush obviously well fed and contented +after their early morning activity.</p> + +<p>When Shann protested with some heat, the other countered: +"Didn't you ever hear of fish, Lantee? After a storm such as +last night's, we ought to discover good pickings along the +shore."</p> + +<p>But Shann was also sure that it was not only the thought +of food which drew Thorvald back to the sea.</p> + +<p>They crawled back through the bolt hole. The beach of +gravel-sand had vanished save for a narrow ribbon of land +just at the foot of the cliffs, where the water curled in white +lace about the barrier of boulders. There was no change +in the dullness of the sky; no sun broke through the thick lid +of clouds. And the green of the sea was ashened to gray which +matched that overcast until one could strain one's eyes trying +to find the horizon, unable to mark the dividing line here +between air and water.</p> + +<p>Utgard was a broken necklace, the outermost island-beads +lost, the inner ones more isolated by the rise in water, more +forbidding. Shann let out a startled hiss of breath.</p> + +<p>The top of a near-by rock detached itself, drew up into a +hunched thing of armor-plated scales and heavy wide-jawed +head. A tail cracked into the air; a double tail split into +equal forks for half-way down its length. A leg lifted as a +forefoot, webbed, clawed for a new hold. This sea beast was +the most formidable native thing he had sighted on Warlock, +approaching in its ugliness the hound of the Throgs.</p> + +<p>Breathing in labored gusts, the thing slapped its tail down +on the stones with a limpness which suggested that the raising +of that appendage had overtaxed its limited supply of strength. +The head sank forward, resting across one of the forelimbs. +Then Shann sighted the fearsome wound in the side just<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> +before one of the larger hind legs, a ragged hole through +which pumped with every one of those breaths a dark purplish +stream, licked away by the waves as it trickled slickly +down the rock.</p> + +<p>"What is that?"</p> + +<p>Thorvald shook his head. "Not on our records," he replied +absently, studying the dying creature with avid attention. +"Must have been driven in by the storm. This proves there is +more in the sea then we knew!"</p> + +<p>Again the forked tail lifted and fell, the head, raised from +the forelimb, stretching up and back until the white underfolds +of the throat were exposed as the snout pointed almost +vertically to the sky. The jaws opened and from between them +came a moaning whistle, a complaint which was drowned +out by the wash of the waves. Then, as if that was the last +effort, the webbed, clawed feet relaxed their grip of the rock +and the scaled body slid sidewise, out of their sight, into the +water. There was a feather of spume to mark the plunge and +nothing else.</p> + +<p>Shann, watching to see if the reptile would surface again, +sighted another object, a rounded shape floating on the sea, +bobbing lightly as had their river raft.</p> + +<p>"Look!"</p> + +<p>Thorvald's gaze followed his pointing finger and then before +Shann could protest, the officer leaped outward from their +perch on the cliff to the broad rock where the scaled sea +dweller had lain moments earlier. He stood there, watching +that drifting object with the closest attention, as Shann made +the same crossing in his wake.</p> + +<p>The drifting thing was oval, perhaps some six feet long and +three wide, the mid point rising in a curve from the water's +edge. As far as Shann could make out in the half-light the +color was a reddish-brown, the surface rough. And he thought +by the way that it moved that it must be flotsam of the storm, +buoyant enough to ride the waves with close to cork resiliency. +To Shann's dismay his companion began to strip.</p> + +<p>"What are you going to do?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Get that."</p> + +<p>Shann surveyed the water about the rock. The forked tail +had sunk just there. Was the Survey officer mad enough to +think he could swim unmenaced through a sea which might +be infested with more such creatures? It seemed that he was, +for Thorvald's white body arched out in a dive. Shann waited, +half crouched and tense, as though he could in some way +attack anything rising from the depths to strike at his companion.</p> + +<p>A brown arm flashed above the surface. Thorvald swam +strongly toward the floating object. He reached it, his outstretched +hand rasping across the surface. And it responded +so quickly to that touch that Shann guessed it was even +lighter and easier to handle than he had first thought.</p> + +<p>Thorvald headed back, herding the thing before him. And +when he climbed out on the rock, Shann was pulling up his +trophy. They flipped the find over, to discover it hollow. They +had, in effect, a ready-made craft not unlike a canoe with +blunted bows. But the substance was surely organic: Was it +shell? Shann speculated, running his finger tips over the irregular +surface.</p> + +<p>The Survey officer dressed. "We have our boat," he commented. +"Now for Utgard——"</p> + +<p>Use this frail thing to dare the trip to the islands? But +Shann did not protest. If the officer determined to try such a +voyage, he would do it. And neither did the younger man +doubt that he would accompany Thorvald.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="ONE_ALONE" id="ONE_ALONE"></a>9. ONE ALONE</h2> + + +<p>Once again the beach was a wide expanse of shingle, drying +fast under a sun hotter than any Shann had yet known on +Warlock. Summer had taken a big leap forward. The Terrans +worked in partial shade below a cliff <ins class="corr" title="Original reads 'overhand'">overhang</ins>, not only for +the protection against the sun's rays, but also as a precaution +against any roving Throg air patrol.</p> + +<p>Under Thorvald's direction the curious shell dragged from +the sea—if it were a shell, and the texture as well as the +general shape suggested that—was equipped with a framework +to act as a stabilizing outrigger. What resulted was +certainly an odd-looking craft, but one which obeyed the +paddles and rode the waves easily.</p> + +<p>In the full sunlight the outline of islands was clear-cut—red-and-gray-rock +above an aquamarine sea. The Terrans had +sighted no more of the sea monsters, and the major evidence +of native life along the shore was a new species of clak-claks, +roosting in cliff holes and scavenging along the sands, and +various queer fish and shelled things stranded in small tide +pools—to the delight of the wolverines, who fished eagerly up +and down the beach, ready to investigate all debris of the +storm.</p> + +<p>"That should serve." Thorvald tightened the last lashing, +straightening up, his fists resting on his hips, to regard the +craft with a measure of pride.</p> + +<p>Shann was not quite so content. He had matched the Survey +officer in industry, but the need for haste still eluded him. +So the ship—such as it was—was ready. Now they would be<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> +off to explore Thorvald's Utgard. But a small and nagging +doubt inside the younger man restrained his enthusiasm over +such a voyage. Fork-tail had come out of the section of ocean +which they must navigate in this very crude transport. And +Shann had no desire to meet an uninjured and alert fork-tail +in the latter's own territory.</p> + +<p>"Which island do we head for?" Shann kept private his +personal doubts of their success. The outmost tip of that chain +was only a distant smudge lying low on the water.</p> + +<p>"The largest ... that one with trees."</p> + +<p>Shann whistled. Since the night of the storm the wolverines +were again more amenable to the very light discipline +he tried to keep. Perhaps the fury of that elemental burst had +tightened the bond between men and animals, both alien to +this world. Now Taggi and his mate padded toward him in +answer to his summons. But would the wolverines trust the +boat? Shann dared not risk their swimming, nor would he +agree to leaving them behind.</p> + +<p>Thorvald had already stored their few provisions on board. +And now Shann steadied the craft against a rock which +served them as a wharf, while he coaxed Taggi gently. Though +the wolverine protested, he at last scrambled in, to hunch at +the bottom of the shell, the picture of apprehension. Togi <ins class="corr" title="Original reads 'look'">took</ins> +longer to make up her mind. And at length Shann picked +her up bodily, soothing her with quiet speech and stroking +hands, to put her beside her mate.</p> + +<p>The shell settled under the weight of the passengers, but +Thorvald's foresight concerning the use of the outrigger +proved right, for the craft was seaworthy. It answered readily +to the dip of their paddles as they headed in a curve, keeping +the first of the islands between them and the open sea for a +breakwater.</p> + +<p>From the air, Thorvald's course would have been a crooked +one, for he wove back and forth between the scattered islands +of the chain, using their lee calm for the protection of the +canoe. About two thirds of the group were barren rock, inhabited +only by clak-claks and creatures closer to true Terran<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> +birds in that they wore a body plumage which resembled +feathers, though their heads were naked and leathery. And, +Shann noted, the clak-claks and the birds did not roost on +the same islands, each choosing their own particular home +while the other species did not invade that territory.</p> + +<p>The first large-sized island they approached was crowned +by trees, but it had no beach, no approach from sea level. +Perhaps it might be possible to climb to the top of the cliff +walls. But Thorvald did not suggest that they try it, heading +on toward the next large outcrop of land and rock.</p> + +<p>Here white lace patterned in a ring well out from the +shore to mark a circle of reefs. They nosed their way patiently +around the outer circumference of that threatening barrier, +hunting the entrance to the lagoon. Within, there were at +least two beaches with climbable ascents to the upper reaches +inland. Though Shann noted that the vegetation showing was +certainly not luxuriant, the few trees within their range of +vision being pallid growths, rather like those they had sighted +on the fringe of the desert. Leather-headed flyers wheeled out +over their canoe, coasting on outspread wings to peer down at +the Terran invaders in a manner which suggested intelligent +curiosity.</p> + +<p>A full flock gathered to escort them as they continued +along the outer line of the reef. Thorvald impatiently dug his +paddle deeper. They had explored more than half of the +reef now without chancing on an entrance channel.</p> + +<p>"Regular fence," Shann commented. One could begin to +believe that the barrier had been deliberately reared to +frustrate visitors. Hot sunshine, reflected back from the surface +of the waves, burned their exposed skin, so they dared not +discard their ragged clothing. And the wolverines were growing +increasingly restless. Shann did not know how much +longer the animals would consent to their position as passengers +without raising active protest.</p> + +<p>"How about trying the next one?" he asked, knowing at the +same time his companion was not in any mood to accept such +a suggestion with good will.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span></p> + +<p>The officer made no reply, but continued to use his steer +paddle in a fashion which spelled out his stubborn determination +to find a passage. This was a personal thing now, +between Ragnar Thorvald of the Terran Survey and a wall of +rock, and the man's will was as strongly rooted as those +water-washed stones.</p> + +<p>On the southwestern tip of the reef they discovered a possible +opening. Shann eyed the narrow space between two +fanglike rocks dubiously. To him that width of water lane +seemed dangerously limited, the sudden slam of a wave +could dash them against either of those pillars, with disastrous +results, before they could move to save themselves. But +Thorvald pointed their blunt bow toward the passage with +seeming confidence, and Shann knew that as far as the +officer was concerned, this was their door to the lagoon.</p> + +<p>Thorvald might be stubborn, but he was not a fool. And +his training and skill in such maneuvers was proved when the +canoe rode in a rising swell in and by those rocks to gain the +safety, in seconds, of the calm lagoon. Shann sighed with relief, +but ventured no comment.</p> + +<p>Now they must paddle back along the inner side of the +reef to locate the beaches, for fronting them on this side of +the well-protected island were cliffs as formidable as those +which guarded the first of the chain at which they had aimed.</p> + +<p>Shann glanced now and then over the side of the boat, +hoping in these shallows to sight the sea bed or some of the +inhabitants of these waters. But there was no piercing that +green murk. Here and there nodules of rock projected inches +or feet above the surface, awash in the wavelets, to be avoided +by the voyagers. Shann's shoulders ached and burned, his +muscles were unaccustomed to the steady swing of the +paddles, and the fire of the sun stabbed easily through only +two layers of ragged cloth to his skin. He ran a dry tongue +over dryer lips and gazed eagerly ahead in search of the first +of the beaches.</p> + +<p>What was so important about this island that Thorvald <i>had</i> +to make a landing here? The officer's stories of a native race<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> +which they might turn against the Throgs to their own advantage +was thin, very thin indeed. Especially now, as Shann +weighed an unsupported theory against that ache in his +shoulders, the possibility of being marooned on the inhospitable +shore ahead, against the fifty probable dangers he could +total up with very little expenditure of effort. A small nagging +doubt of Thorvald's obsession began to grow in his mind. +How could Shann even be sure that that carved disk and +Thorvald's hokus-pokus with it had been on the level? On the +other hand what motive would the officer have for trying such +an act just to impress Shann?</p> + +<p>The beach at last! As they headed the canoe in that direction +the wolverines nearly brought disaster on them. The +animals' restlessness became acute as they sighted and scented +the shore and knew that they were close. Taggi reared, +plunged over the side of the craft, and Shann had just time to +fling his weight in the opposite direction as a counterbalance +when Togi followed. They splashed shoreward while Thorvald +swore fluently and Shann grabbed to save the precious +supply bag. In a shower of gravel the animals made land +and humped well up on the strand before pausing to shake +themselves and splatter far and wide the burden of moisture +transported by their shaggy fur.</p> + +<p>Ashore, the canoe became a clumsy burden and, light as +the craft was, both of the men sweated to get it up on the +beach without snagging the outrigger against stones and +brush. With the thought of a Throg patrol in mind they +worked swiftly to cover it.</p> + +<p>Taggi raised an egg-patterned snout from a hollow and +licked at the stippling of greenish yolk matting his fur. The +wolverines had wasted no time in sampling the contents of a +wealth of nesting places beginning just above the high-water +mark, cupping two to four tough-shelled eggs in each. Treading +a path among those clutches, the Terrans climbed a red-earthed +slope toward the interior of the island.</p> + +<p>They found water, not the clear running of a mountain +spring, but a stalish pool in a stone-walled depression on the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> +crest of a rise, filled by the bounty of the rain. The warm +liquid was brackish, but satisfied in part their thirst, and they +drank eagerly.</p> + +<p>The outer cliff wall of the island was just that, a wall, for +there was an inner slope to match the outer. And at the bottom +of it a showing of purple-green foliage where plants and +stunted trees fought for living space. But there was nothing +else, though they quartered that growing section with the +care of men trying to locate an enemy outpost.</p> + +<p>That night they camped in the hollow, roasted eggs in a +fire, and ate the fishy-tasting contents because it was food, +not because they relished what they swallowed. Tonight no +cloud bank hung overhead. A man, gazing up, could see the +stars. The stars and other things, for over the distant shore of +the mainland they sighted the cruising lights of a Throg ship +and waited tensely for that circle of small sparkling points +to swing out toward their own hiding hole.</p> + +<p>"They haven't given up," Shann stated what was obvious to +them both.</p> + +<p>"The settler transport," Thorvald reminded him. "If they +do not take a prisoner to talk her in and allay suspicion, then—" +he snapped his fingers—"the Patrol will be on their +tails, but quick!"</p> + +<p>So just by keeping out of Throg range, they were, in a way, +still fighting. Shann settled back, his tender shoulders resting +against a tree hole. He tried to count the number of days +and nights lying behind him now since that early morning +when he had watched the Terran camp die under the aliens' +weapons. But one day faded into another so that he could +remember only action parts clearly—the attack on the +grounded scoutship, the sortie they had made in turn on the +occupied camp, the dust storm on the river, the escape from +the Throg ship in the mountain crevice, and their meeting +with the hound. Then that storm which had driven them to +seek cover after their curious experience with the disk. And +now this day when they had safely reached the island.</p> + +<p>"Why this island?" he asked suddenly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></p> + +<p>"That carved piece was found here on the edge of this +valley," Thorvald returned matter-of-factly.</p> + +<p>"But today we found nothing at all——"</p> + +<p>"Yet this island supplies us with a starting point."</p> + +<p>A starting point for what? A detailed search of all the +islands, great and small, in the chain? And how did they +dare continue to paddle openly from one to the next with +the Throgs sweeping the skies? They would have provided an +excellent target today as they combed that reef for an hour +or more. Wearily, Shann spread out his hands in the very +faint light of their tiny fire, poked with a finger tip at smarting +points which would have been blisters had those hands +not known a toughening process in the past. More paddling +tomorrow? But that was tomorrow, and at least they need not +worry tonight about any Throg attack once they had doused +the fire, an action which was now being methodically attended +to by Thorvald. Shann pushed down on the bed of leaves he +had heaped together. The night was quiet. He could hear +only the murmur of the sea, a lulling croon of sound to make +one sleep deep, perhaps dreamlessly.</p> + +<p>Sun struck down, making a dazzle about him. Shann +turned over drowsily in that welcome heat, stretching a little +as might a cat at ease. Then he really awoke under the press +of memory, and the need for alertness rode him once more. +Beaten-down grass, the burnt-out embers of last night's fire +were beside him. But of Thorvald and the wolverines there +were no signs.</p> + +<p>Not only did he now lie alone, but he was possessed by +the feeling that he had not been deserted only momentarily, +that Taggi, Togi and the Survey officer were indeed gone. +Shann sat up, got to his feet, breathing faster, a prickle of +uneasiness spreading in him, bringing him to that inner slope, +up it to the crest from which he could see that beach where +last night they had concealed the canoe.</p> + +<p>Those lengths of brush and tufts of grass they had used +for a screen were strewn about as if tossed in haste. And not +too long before....<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span></p> + +<p>For the canoe was out in the calm waters within the reef, +the paddle blade wielded by its occupant flashing brightly +in the sun. On the shingle below, the wolverines prowled back +and forth, whining in bewilderment.</p> + +<p>"Thorvald——!"</p> + +<p>Shann put the full force of his lungs into that hail, hearing +the name ring from one of the small peaks at his back. But the +man in the boat did not turn his head; there was no change +in the speed of that paddle dip.</p> + +<p>Shann leaped down the outer slope to the beach, skidding +the last few feet, saving himself from going headfirst into the +water only by a painful wrench of his body.</p> + +<p>"Thorvald!" He tried calling again. But that head, bright +under the sun did not turn; there was no answer. Shann tore +at his clothes and kicked off his boots.</p> + +<p>He did not think of the possibility of lurking sea monsters +as he plunged into the water, swam for the canoe <ins class="corr" title="Original reads 'edgeing'">edging</ins> +along the reef, plainly bound for the sea gate to the southwest. +Shann was not a powerful swimmer. His first impetus +gave him a good start, but after that he had to fight for each +foot he gained, and the fear grew in him that the other would +reach the reef passage before he could catch up. He wasted +no more time trying to hail Thorvald, putting all his breath +and energy into the effort of overtaking the craft.</p> + +<p>And he almost made it, his hand actually slipping along +the log which furnished the balancing outrigger. As his fingers +tightened on the slimy wood he looked up, and loosed that +hold again in time perhaps to save his life.</p> + +<p>For when he ducked to let the water cover his head in an +impromptu half dive, Shann carried with him a vivid picture, +a picture so astounding that he was a little dazed.</p> + +<p>Thorvald had stopped paddling at last, because that paddle +had to be put to another use. Had Shann not released his +hold on the log and gone under water, that crudely fashioned +piece of wood might, have broken his skull. He saw only too +clearly the paddle raised in both hands as an ugly weapon,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> +and Thorvald's face, convulsed in a spasm of rage which +made it as inhuman as a Throg's.</p> + +<p>Sputtering and choking, Shann fought up to the air once +more. The paddle was back at the task for which it had been +carved, the canoe was underway again, its occupant paying +no more attention to what lay behind than if he <i>had</i> successfully +disposed of the man in the water. To follow would be +only to invite another attack, and Shann might not be so +lucky next time. He was not good enough a swimmer to try +any tricks such as oversetting the canoe, not when Thorvald +was an expert who could easily finish off a fumbling opponent.</p> + +<p>Shann swam wearily to shore where the wolverines waited, +unable yet to make sense of that attack in the lagoon. What +had happened to Thorvald? What motive had led the other +to leave Shann and the animals on this island, the island +Thorvald had called a starting point in his search for the +natives of Warlock? Or had every bit of that tall tale been +invented by the Survey officer for some obscure purpose of +his own, certainly no sane purpose? Against that logic Shann +could only set the carved disk, and he had only Thorvald's +word that that had been discovered here.</p> + +<p>He dragged himself out of the water on his hands and +knees and lay, winded and gasping. Taggi came to lick his +face, nuzzle him, making a small, bewildered whimpering. +While above, the leather-headed birds called and swooped, +fearful and angry for their disturbed nesting place. The Terran +retched, coughed up water, and then sat up to look +around.</p> + +<p>The spread of lagoon was bare. Thorvald must have +rounded the south point of land and be very close to the reef +passage, perhaps through it by now. Not stopping for his +clothes, Shann started up the slope, crawling part of the way +on his hands and knees.</p> + +<p>He reached the crest again and got to his feet. The sun +made an eye-dazzling glitter of the waves. But under the +shade of his hands Shann saw the canoe again, beyond the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> +reef, heading on out along the island chain, not back to shore +as he had expected. Thorvald was still on the hunt, but for +what? A reality which existed, or a dream in his own disturbed +brain?</p> + +<p>Shann sat down. He was very hungry, for that adventure +in the lagoon had sapped his strength. And he was a prisoner +along with the wolverines, a prisoner on an island which was +half the size of the valley which held the Survey camp. As +far as he knew, his only supply of drinkable water was that +tank of evil-smelling rain which would be speedily evaporated +by a sun such as the one now beating down on him. +And between him and the shore was the sea, a sea which +harbored such creatures as the fork-tail he had watched die.</p> + +<p>Thorvald was still steadily on course, not to the next island +in the chain, a small, bare knob, but to the one beyond that. +He could have been hurrying to a meeting. Where and with +what?</p> + +<p>Shann got to his feet, started down to the beach once more, +sure now that the officer had no intention of returning, that +he was again on his own with only his wits and strength to +keep him alive—alive and somehow free of this water-washed +prison.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="A_TRAP_FOR_A_TRAPPER" id="A_TRAP_FOR_A_TRAPPER"></a>10. A TRAP FOR A TRAPPER</h2> + + +<p>Shann took up the piece of soft chalklike stone he had found +and drew another short white mark on the rust-red of a +boulder well above tide level. That made three such marks, +three days since Thorvald had marooned him. And he was no +nearer the shore now than he had been on that first morning! +He sat where he was by the boulder, aware that he should be +up, trying to climb to the less accessible nests of the sea birds. +The prisoners, man and wolverines, had cleaned out all those +they had discovered on beach and cliffs. But at the thought +of more eggs, Shann's stomach knotted in pain and he began +to retch.</p> + +<p>There had been no sign of Thorvald since Shann had +watched him steer between the two westward islands. And +the younger Terran's faint hope that the officer would return +had died. On the shore a few feet away lay his own pitiful +attempt to solve the problem of escape.</p> + +<p>The force ax had vanished with Thorvald, along with all +the rest of the meager supplies which had been the officer's +original contribution to their joint equipment. Shann had used +his knife on brush and small trees, trying to put together some +kind of a raft. But he had not been able to discover here any +of those vines necessary for binding, and his best efforts had +all come to grief when he tried them in a lagoon launching. +So far he had achieved no form of raft which would keep +him afloat longer than five minutes, let alone support three +of them as far as the next island.</p> + +<p>Shann pulled listlessly at the framework of his latest try,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> +fully disheartened. He tried not to think of the unescapable +fact that the water in the rain tank had sunk to only an inch +or so of muddy scum. Last night he had dug in the heart of +the interior valley where the rankness of the vegetation was +a promise of moisture, to uncover damp clay and then a brackish +ooze. Far too little to satisfy both him and the animals.</p> + +<p>There were surely fish somewhere in the lagoon. Shann +wondered if the raw flesh of sea dwellers could supply the +water they needed. But lacking net, line, or hooks, how did +one fish? Yesterday, using his stunner, he had brought down +a bird, to discover the carcass so rank even the wolverines, +never dainty eaters, refused to gnaw it.</p> + +<p>The animals prowled the two beaches, and Shann guessed +they hunted shell dwellers, for at times they dug energetically +in the gravel. Togi was busied in this way now, the sand +flowing from under her pumping legs, her claws raking in +good earnest.</p> + +<p>And it was Togi's excavation which brought Shann a first +ray of hope. Her excitement was so marked that he believed +she was in quest of some worthwhile game and he +moved across to inspect the pit. A patch of brown, which +had been skimmed bare by one raking paw, made him +shout.</p> + +<p>Taggi shambled downslope, going to work beside his mate +with an eagerness as open as hers. Shann hovered at the edge +of the pit they were rapidly enlarging. The brown patch was +larger, disclosing itself as a hump doming up from the gravel. +The Terran did not need to run his hands over that rough +surface to recognize the nature of the find. This was another +shell such as had come floating in after the storm to form the +raw material of their canoe.</p> + +<p>However, as fast as the wolverines dug, they did not appear +to make correspondingly swift headway in uncovering +their find as might reasonably be expected. In fact, a witness +could guess that the shell was sinking at a pace only a +fraction slower than the burrowers were using to free it. Intrigued +by that, Shann went back to the waterline, secured<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> +one of the lengths he had been trying to weave into his failures, +and returned to use it as a makeshift shovel.</p> + +<p>Now, with three of them at the digging, the brown hump +was uncovered, and Shann pried down around its edge, trying +to lever it up and over. To his amazement, his tool was +caught and held, nearly jerked from his hands. To his retaliating +tug the obstruction below-ground gave way, and the +Terran sprawled back, the length of wood coming clear, to +show the other end smashed and splintered as if it had been +caught between mashing gears.</p> + +<p>For the first time he understood that they were dealing not +with an empty shell casing buried by drift under this small +beach, but with a shell still inhabited by the Warlockian to +whom it was a natural covering, and that that inhabitant +would fight to continue ownership. A moment's examination +of that splintered wood also suggested that the shell's present +wearer appeared well able to defend itself.</p> + +<p>Shann attempted to call off the wolverines, but they were +out of control now, digging frantically to get at this new prey. +And he knew that if he pulled them away by force, they were +apt to turn those punishing claws and snapping jaws on him.</p> + +<p>It was for their protection that he returned to digging, +though he no longer tried to pry up the shell. Taggi leaped to +the top of that dome, sweeping paws downward to clear its +surface, while Togi prowled around its circumference, pausing +now and then to send dirt and gravel spattering, but +treading warily as might one alert for a sudden attack.</p> + +<p>They had the creature almost clear now, though the shell +still rested firmly on the ground, and they had no notion of +what it might protect. It was smaller, perhaps two thirds the +size of the one which Thorvald had fashioned into a seagoing +craft. But it could provide them with transportation to the +mainland if Shann was able to repeat the feat of turning it +into an outrigger canoe.</p> + +<p>Taggi joined his mate on the ground and both wolverines +padded about the dome, obviously baffled. Now and then +they assaulted the shell with a testing paw. Claws raked and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> +did not leave any marks but shallow scratches. They could continue +that forever, as far as Shann could see, without solving +the problem in the least.</p> + +<p>He sat back on his heels and studied the scene in detail. +The excavation holding the shelled creature was some three +yards above the high-water mark, with a few more feet +separating that from the point where lazy waves now washed +the finer sand. Shann watched the slow inward slip of those +waves with growing interest. Where their combined efforts +had failed to win this odd battle, perhaps the sea itself could +now be pressed into service.</p> + +<p>Shann began his own excavation, a trough to lead from +the waterline to the pit occupied by the obstinate shell. Of +course the thing living in or under that covering might be only +too familiar with salt water. But it had placed its burrow, or +hiding place, above the reach of the waves and so might be +disconcerted by the sudden appearance of water in its bed. +However, the scheme was worth trying, and he went to +work doggedly, wishing he could make the wolverines understand +so they would help him.</p> + +<p>They still prowled about their captive, scrapping at the +sand about the shell casing. At least their efforts would keep +the half-prisoner occupied and prevent its escape. Shann put +another piece of his raft to work as a shovel, throwing up a +shower of sand and gravel while sweat dampened his tattered +blouse and was salt and sticky on his arms and face.</p> + +<p>He finished his trench, one which ran at an angle he +hoped would feed water into the pit rapidly once he knocked +away the last barrier against the waves. And, splashing out +into the green water, he did just that.</p> + +<p>His calculations proved correct. Waves lapped, then flowed +in a rapidly thickening stream, puddling out about the shell +as the wolverines drew back, snarling. Shann lashed his +knife fast to a stout length of sapling, so equipping himself +with a spear. He stood with it ready in his hand, not knowing +just what to expect. And when the answer to his water attack<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> +came, the move was so sudden that in spite of his preparation +he was caught gaping.</p> + +<p>For the shell fairly erupted out of the mess of sand and +water. A complete fringe of jointed, clawed brown limbs +churned in a forward-and-upward dash. But the water +worked to frustrate that charge. For one of the pit walls +crumbled, over-balancing the creature so that the fore end +of the shell lifted from the ground, the legs clawing wildly at +the air.</p> + +<p>Shann thrust with the spear, feeling the knife point go +home so deeply that he could not pull his improvised weapon +free. A limb snapped claws only inches away from his leg as +he pushed down on the haft with all his strength. That attack +along with the initial upset of balance did the job. The shell +flopped over, its rounded hump now embedded in the watery +sand of the pit while the frantic struggles of the creature to +right itself only buried it the deeper.</p> + +<p>The Terran stared down upon a segmented under belly +where legs were paired in riblike formation. Shann could locate +no head, no good target. But he drew his stunner and +beamed at either end of the oval, and then, for good measure, +in the middle, hoping in one of those three general blasts to +contact the thing's central nervous system. He was not to +know which of those shots did the trick, but the frantic +wiggling of the legs slowed and finally ended, as a clockwork +toy might run down for want of winding—and at last projected, +at crooked angles, completely still. The shell creature +might not be dead, but it was tamed for now.</p> + +<p>Taggi had only been waiting for a good chance to do +battle. He grabbed one of those legs, worried it, and then +leaped to tear at the under body. Unlike the outer shell, this +portion of the creature had no proper armor and the wolverine +plunged joyfully into the business of the kill, his mate following +suit.</p> + +<p>The process of butchery was a bloody, even beastly job, +and Shann was shaken before it was complete. But he kept at +his labors, determined to have that shell, his one chance of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> +escape from the Island. The wolverines feasted on the greenish-white +flesh, but he could not bring himself to sample it, climbing +to the heights in search of eggs, and making a happy find +of a niche filled with the edible moss-fungi.</p> + +<p>By late afternoon he had the shell scooped fairly clean +and the wolverines had carried away for burial such portions +as they had not been able to consume at their first eating. +Meanwhile, the leather-headed birds had grown bold enough +to snatch up the fragments he tossed out on the water, struggling +for that bounty against feeders arising from the depths +of the lagoon.</p> + +<p>At the coming of dusk Shann hauled the bloodstained, +grisly trophy well up the beach and wedged it among the +rocks, determined not to lose his treasure. Then he stripped +and washed, first his clothing and then himself, rubbing his +hands and arms with sand until his skin was tender. He was +still exultant at his luck. The drift would supply him with +materials for an outrigger. One more day's work—or maybe +two—and he could leave. He wrung out his blouse and +gazed toward the distant line of the shore. Once he had his +new canoe ready he would try to make the trip back in the +early morning while the mists were still on the sea. That +should give him cover against any Throg flight.</p> + +<p>That night Shann slept in the deep fog of bodily exhaustion. +There were no dreams, nothing but an unconsciousness +which even a Throg attack could not have pierced. He +roused in the morning with an odd feeling of guilt. The water +hole he had scooped in the valley yielded him some swallows +tasting of earth, but he had almost forgotten the flavor +of a purer liquid. Munching on a fistful of moss, he hurried +down to the shore, half fearing to find the shell gone, his luck +out once again.</p> + +<p>Not only was the shell where he had wedged it, but he +had done better than he knew when he had left it exposed in +the night. Small things scuttled away from it into hiding, and +several birds arose—scavengers had been busy lightening his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> +unwelcome task for that morning. And seeing how the clean-up +process had gone, Shann had a second inspiration.</p> + +<p>Pushing the thing down the beach, he sank it in the shallows +with several rocks to anchor it. Within a few seconds the +shell was invaded by a whole school of spiny-tailed fish, that +ate greedily. Leaving his find to their cleansing, Shann went +back to prospect the pile of raft material, choosing pieces +which could serve for an outrigger frame. He was handicapped +as he had been all along by the absence of the vines +one could use for lashings. And he had reached the point of +considering a drastic sacrifice of his clothing to get the +necessary strips when he saw Taggi dragging behind him one +of the jointed legs the wolverines had put in storage the day +before.</p> + +<p>Now and again Taggi laid his prize on the shingle, holding +it firmly pinned with his forepaws as he tried to worry +loose a section of flesh. But apparently that feat was beyond +even his notable teeth, and at length he left it lying there in +disgust while he returned to a cache for more palatable fare. +Shann went to examine more closely the triple-jointed limb.</p> + +<p>The casing was not as hard as horn or shell, he discovered +upon testing; it more resembled tough skin laid +over bone. With a knife he tried to loosen the skin—a tedious +job requiring a great deal of patience, since the tissue tore if +pulled away too fast. But with care he acquired a few thongs +perhaps a foot long. Using two of these, he made a trial binding +of one stick to another, and experimented farther, soaking +the whole construction in sea water and then exposing it to +the direct rays of the sun.</p> + +<p>When he examined his test piece an hour later, the skin +thongs had set into place with such success that the one +piece of wood might have been firmly glued to the other. +Shann shuffled his feet in a little dance of triumph as he +went on to the lagoon to inspect the water-logged shell. The +scavengers had done well. One scraping, two at the most, +would have the whole thing clean and ready to use.</p> + +<p>But that night Shann dreamed. No climbing of a skull-shaped<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> +mountain this time. Instead, he was again on the +beach, laboring under an overwhelming compulsion, building +something for an alien purpose he could not understand. And +he worked as hopelessly as a beaten slave, knowing that what +he made was to his own undoing. Yet he could not halt the +making, because just beyond the limit of his vision there +stood a dominant will which held him in bondage.</p> + +<p>And he awoke on the beach in the very early dawn, not +knowing how he had come there. His body was bathed in +sweat, as it had been during his day's labors under the sun, +and his muscles ached with fatigue.</p> + +<p>But when he saw what lay at his feet he cringed. The framework +of the outrigger, close to completion the night before, +was dismantled—smashed. All those strips of hide he had so +laboriously culled were cut—into inch-long bits which could +be of no service.</p> + +<p>Shann whirled, ran to the shell he had the night before +pulled from the water and stowed in safety. Its rounded dome +was dulled where it had been battered, but there was no +break in the surface. He ran his hands anxiously over the +curve to make sure. Then, very slowly, he came back to the +mess of broken wood and snipped hide. And he was sure, only +too sure, of one thing. He, himself, had wrought that destruction. +In his dream he had built to satisfy the whim of an enemy; +in reality he had destroyed; and that was also, he believed, +to satisfy an enemy.</p> + +<p>The dream was a part of it. But who or what could set a +man dreaming and so take over his body, make him in fact +betray himself? But then, what had made Thorvald maroon +him here? For the first time, Shann guessed a new, if wild, +explanation for the officer's desertion. Dreams—and the disk +which had worked so strangely on Thorvald. Suppose everything +the other had surmised was the truth! Then that disk +<i>had</i> been found on this very island, and here somewhere must +lie a clue to the riddle.</p> + +<p>Shann licked his lips. Suppose that Thorvald had been sent +away under just such a strong compulsion as the one which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> +had ruled Shann last night? Why was he left behind if the +other had been moved away to protect some secret? Was it that +Shann himself was wanted here, wanted so much that when +he at last found a means of escape he was set to destroy it? +That act might have been forced upon him for two reasons: to +keep him here, and to impress upon him how powerless he +was.</p> + +<p>Powerless! A flicker of stubborn will stirred to respond to +that implied challenge. All right, the mysterious <i>they</i> had made +him do this. But they had underrated him by letting him +learn, almost contemptuously, of their presence by that revelation. +So warned, he was in a manner armed; he could prepare +to fight back.</p> + +<p>He squatted by the wreckage as he thought that through, +turning over broken pieces. And, Shann realized, he must +present at the moment a satisfactory picture of despondency to +any spy. A spy, that was it! Someone or something must have +him under observation, or his activities of the day before +would not have been so summarily countered. And if there was +a spy, then there was his answer to the riddle. To trap the +trapper. Such action might be a project beyond his resources, +but it was his own counterattack.</p> + +<p>So now he had to play a role. Not only must he search the +island for the trace of his spy, but he must do it in such a +fashion that his purpose would not be plain to the enemy +he suspected. The wolverines could help. Shann arose, allowed +his shoulders to droop, slouching to the slope with all the air +of a beaten man which he could assume, whistling for Taggi +and Togi.</p> + +<p>When they came, his exploration began. Ostensibly he was +hunting for lengths of drift or suitable growing saplings to take +the place of those he had destroyed under orders. But he kept +a careful watch on the animal pair, hoping by their reactions +to pick up a clue to any hidden watcher.</p> + +<p>The larger of the two beaches marked the point where the +Terrans had first landed and where the shell thing had been +killed. The smaller was more of a narrow tongue thrust out<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> +into the lagoon, much of it choked with sizable boulders. On +earlier visits there Taggi and Togi had poked into the hollows +among these with their usual curiosity. But now both +animals remained upslope, showing no inclination to descend +to the water line.</p> + +<p>Shann caught hold of Taggi's scruff, pulling him along. The +wolverine twisted and whined, but he did not fight for freedom +as he would have upon scenting Throg. Not that the Terran +had ever believed one of those aliens was responsible for the +happenings on the island.</p> + +<p>Taggi came down under Shann's urging, but he was plainly +ill at ease. And at last he snarled a warning when the man +would have drawn him closer to two rocks which met overhead +in a crude semblance of an arch. There was a stick of +drift protruding from that hollow affording Shann a legitimate +excuse to venture closer. He dropped his hold on the wolverines, +stooped to gather in the length of wood, and at the same +time glanced into the pocket.</p> + +<p>Water lay just beyond, making this a doorway to the lagoon. +The sun had not yet penetrated into the shadow, if it +ever did. Shann reached for the wood, at the same time drawing +his finger across the flat rock which would furnish a +steppingstone for anything using that door as an entrance to +the island.</p> + +<p>Wet! Which might mean his visitor had recently arrived, +or else merely that a splotch of spray had landed there not +too long before. But in his mind Shann was convinced that he +had found the spy's entrance. Could he turn it into a trap? He +added a piece of drift to his bundle and picked up two more +before he returned to the cliff ahead.</p> + +<p>A trap.... He revolved in his mind all the traps he knew +which could be used here. He already had decided upon the +bait—his own work. And if his plans went through—and hope +does not die easily—then this time he would not waste his +labor either.</p> + +<p>So he went back to the same job he had done the day before, +making do with skin strips he had considered second-best<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> +before, smoothing, cutting. Only the trap occupied his +mind, and close to sunset he knew just what he was going to +do and how.</p> + +<p>Though the Terran did not know the nature of the unseen +opponent, he thought he could guess two weaknesses which +might deliver the other into his hands. First, the enemy was +entirely confident of success in this venture. No being who +was able to control Shann as completely and ably as had +been done the night before would credit any prey with the +power to strike back in force.</p> + +<p>Second, such a confident enemy would be unable to resist +watching the manipulation of a captive. The Terran was +certain that his opponent would be on the scene somewhere +when he was led, dreaming, to destroy his work once more.</p> + +<p>He might be wrong on both of those counts, but inwardly +he didn't believe so. However, he had to wait until the dark +to set up his own answer, one so simple he was certain the +enemy would not suspect it at all.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="THE_WITCH" id="THE_WITCH"></a>11. THE WITCH</h2> + + +<p>There were patches of light in the inner valley marking +the phosphorescent plants, some creeping at ground level, +others tall as saplings. On other nights Shann had welcomed +that wan radiance, but now he lay in as relaxed a position +as possible, marking each of those potential betrayers as he +tried to counterfeit the attitude of sleep and at the same time +plan out his route.</p> + +<p>He had purposely settled in a pool of shadow, the wolverines +beside him. And he thought that the bulk of the animal's +bodies would cover his own withdrawal when the time +came to move. One arm lying limply across his middle was in +reality clutching to him an intricate arrangement of small +hide straps which he had made by sacrificing most of the +remainder of his painfully acquired thongs. The trap must be +set in place soon!</p> + +<p>Now that he had charted a path to the crucial point avoiding +all light plants, Shann was ready to move. The Terran +pressed his hand on Taggi's head in the one imperative +command the wolverine was apt to obey—the order to stay +where he was.</p> + +<p>Shann sat up and gave the same voiceless instruction to +Togi. Then he inched out of the hollow, a worm's progress to +that narrow way along the cliff top—the path which anyone or +anything coming up from that sea gate on the beach would +have to pass in order to witness the shoreline occupied by the +half-built outrigger.</p> + +<p>So much of his plan was based upon luck and guesses,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> +but those were all Shann had. And as he worked at the +stretching of his snare, the Terran's heart pounded, and he +tensed at every sound out of the night. Having tested all the +anchoring of his net, he tugged at a last knot, and then +crouched to listen not only with his ears, but with all his +strength of mind and body.</p> + +<p>Pound of waves, whistle of wind, the sleepy complaint of +some bird.... A regular splashing! One of the fish in the +lagoon? Or what he awaited? The Terran retreated as noiselessly +as he had come, heading for the hollow where he +had bedded down.</p> + +<p>He reached there breathless, his heart pumping, his mouth +dry as if he had been racing. Taggi stirred and thrust a nose +inquiringly against Shann's arm. But the wolverine made no +sound, as if he, too, realized that some menace lay beyond +the rim of the valley. Would that other come up the path +Shann had trapped? Or had he been wrong? Was the enemy +already stalking him from the other beach? The grip of his +stunner was slippery in his damp hand; he hated this waiting.</p> + +<p>The canoe ... his work on it had been a careless botching. +Better to have the job done right. Why, it was perfectly clear +now how he had been mistaken! His whole work plan was +wrong; he could see the right way of doing things laid out +as clear as a blueprint in his mind. A picture in his mind!</p> + +<p>Shann stood up and both wolverines moved uneasily, +though neither made a sound. A picture in his mind! But +this time he wasn't asleep; he wasn't dreaming a dream—to +be used for his own defeat. Only (that other could not know +this) the pressure which had planted the idea of new work +to be done in his mind—an idea one part of him accepted as +fact—had not taken warning from his move. He was supposed +to be under control; the Terran was sure of that. All right, so +he would play that part. He must if he would entice the +trapper into his trap.</p> + +<p>He holstered his stunner, walked out into the open, paying +no heed now to the patches of light through which he must +pass on his way to the path his own feet had already worn<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> +to the boat beach. As he went, Shann tried to counterfeit +what he believed would be the gait of a man under compulsion.</p> + +<p>Now he was on the rim fronting the downslope, fighting +against his desire to turn and see for himself if anything had +climbed behind. The canoe was all wrong, a bad job which +he must make better at once so that in the morning he would +be free of this island prison.</p> + +<p>The pressure of that other's will grew stronger. And the +Terran read into that the overconfidence which he believed +would be part of the enemy's character. The one who was +sending him to destroy his own work had no suspicion that +the victim was not entirely malleable, ready to be used as he +himself would use a knife or a force ax. Shann strode steadily +downslope. With a small spurt of fear he knew that in a way +that unseen other was right; the pressure was taking over, +even though he was awake this time. The Terran tried to will +his hand to his stunner, but his fingers fell instead on the hilt +of his knife. He drew the blade as panic seethed in his head, +chilling him from within. He had underestimated the other's +power....</p> + +<p>And that panic flared into open fight, making him forget his +careful plans. Now he <i>must</i> wrench free from this control. +The knife was moving to slash a hide lashing, directed by his +hand, but not his will.</p> + +<p>A soundless gasp, a flash of dismay rocked him, but neither +was his gasp nor his dismay. That pressure snapped off; he +was free. But the other wasn't! Knife still in fist, Shann +turned and ran upslope, his torch in his other hand. He could +see a shape now writhing, fighting, outlined against a light +bush. And, fearing that the stranger might win free and disappear, +the Terran spotlighted the captive in the beam, reckless +of Throg or enemy reinforcements.</p> + +<p>The other crouched, plainly startled by the sudden burst +of light. Shann stopped abruptly. He had not really built up +any mental picture of what he had expected to find in his +snare, but this prisoner was as weirdly alien to him as a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> +Throg. The light on the torch was reflected off a skin which +glittered as if scaled, glittered with the brilliance of jewels +in bands and coils of color spreading from the throat down +the chest, spiraling about upper arms, around waist and +thighs, as if the stranger wore a treasure house of gems as +part of a living body. Except for those patterned loops, coils, +and bands, the body had no clothing, though a belt about +the slender middle supported a pair of pouches and some +odd implements held in loops.</p> + +<p>Roughly the figure was more humanoid than the Throgs. +The upper limbs were not too unlike Shann's arms, though the +hands had four digits of equal length instead of five. But the +features were nonhuman, closer to saurian in contour. It had +large eyes, blazing yellow in the dazzle of the flash, with +<ins class="corr" title="Original reads 'verticle'">vertical</ins> slits of green for pupils. A nose united with the jaw to +make a snout, and above the domed forehead a sharp V-point +of raised spiky growth extended back and down until +behind the shoulder blades it widened and expanded to resemble +a pair of wings.</p> + +<p>The captive no longer struggled, but sat quietly in the +tangle of the snare Shann had set, watching the Terran +steadily as if there were no difficulty in seeing through the +brilliance of the beam to the man who held it. And, oddly +enough, Shann experienced no repulsion toward its reptilian +appearance as he had upon first sighting the beetle-Throg. On +impulse he put down his torch on a rock and walked into the +light to face squarely the thing out of the sea.</p> + +<p>Still eying Shann, the captive raised one limb and gave +an absent-minded tug to the belt it wore. Shann, noting that +gesture, was struck by a wild surmise, leading him to study +the prisoner more narrowly. Allowing for the alien structure +of bone, the nonhuman skin; this creature was delicate, +graceful, in its way beautiful, with a fragility of limb which +backed up his suspicions. Moved by no pressure from the +other, but by his own will and sense of fitness, Shann stooped +to cut the control line of his snare.</p> + +<p>The captive continued to watch as Shann sheathed his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> +blade and then held out his hand. Yellow eyes, never blinking +since his initial appearance, regarded him, not with any trace +of fear or dismay, but with a calm measurement which was +curiosity based upon a strong belief in its own superiority. +He did not know how he knew, but Shann was certain that +the creature out of the sea was still entirely confident, that +it made no fight because it did not conceive of any possible +danger from him. And again, oddly enough, he was not irritated +by this unconscious arrogance; rather he was intrigued +and amused.</p> + +<p>"Friends?" Shann used the basic galactic speech devised +by Survey and the Free Traders, semantics which depended +upon the proper inflection of voice and tone to project meaning +when the words were foreign.</p> + +<p>The other made no sound, and the Terran began to wonder +if his captive had any audible form of speech. He withdrew +a step or two then pulled at the snare, drawing the cords +away from the creature's slender ankles. Rolling the thongs +into a ball, he tossed the crude net back over his shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Friends?" he repeated again, showing his empty hands, +trying to give that one word the proper inflection, hoping the +other could read his peaceful intent in his features if not by +his speech.</p> + +<p>In one lithe, flowing movement the alien arose. Fully erect, +the Warlockian had a frail appearance. Shann, for his breed, +was not tall. But the native was still smaller, not more than +five feet, that stiff V of head crest just topping Shann's shoulder. +Whether any of those fittings at its belt could be a weapon +the Terran had no way of telling. However, the other +made no move to draw any of them.</p> + +<p>Instead, one of the four-digit hands came up. Shann felt +the feather touch of strange finger tips on his chin, across his +lips, up his cheek, to at last press firmly on his forehead at a +spot just between the eyebrows. What followed was communication +of a sort, not in words or in any describable flow +of thoughts. There was no feeling of enmity—at least nothing +strong enough to be called that. Curiosity, yes, and then a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> +growing doubt, not of the Terran himself, but of the other's +preconceived ideas concerning him. Shann was other than the +native had judged him, and the stranger was disturbed, that +self-confidence a little ruffled. And also Shann was right in his +guess. He smiled, his amusement growing—not aimed at his +companion on this cliff top, but at himself. For he was dealing +with a woman, a very young woman, and someone as fully +feminine in her way as any human girl could be.</p> + +<p>"Friends?" he asked for the third time.</p> + +<p>But the other still exuded a wariness, a wariness mixed +with surprise. And the tenuous message which passed between +them then astounded Shann. To this Warlockian out +of the night he was not following the proper pattern of male +behaviour at all; he should have been in awe of the other +merely because of her sex. A diffidence rather than an assumption +of equality should have colored his response, judged by +her standards. At first, he caught a flash of anger at this preposterous +attitude of his; then her curiosity won, but there +was still no reply to his question.</p> + +<p>The finger tips no longer made contact between them. +Stepping back, her hands now reached for one of the pouches +at her belt. Shann watched that movement carefully. And +because he did not trust her too far, he whistled.</p> + +<p>Her head came up. She might be dumb, but plainly she +was not deaf. And she gazed down into the hollow as the wolverines +answered his summons with growls. Her profile reminded +Shann of something for an instant; but it should have +been golden-yellow instead of silver with two jeweled patterns +ringing the snout. Yes, that small plaque he had seen in +the cabin of one of the ship's officers. A very old Terran legend—"Dragon," +the officer had named the creature. Only that +one had possessed a serpent's body, a lizard's legs and wings.</p> + +<p>Shann gave a sudden start, aware his thoughts had made +him careless, or had she in some way led him into that bypath +of memory for her own purposes? Because now she held some +object in the curve of her curled fingers, regarding him with +those unblinking yellow eyes. Eyes ... eyes.... Shann dimly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> +heard the alarm cry of the wolverines. He tried to snap draw +his stunner, but it was too late.</p> + +<p>There was a haze about him hiding the rocks, the island +valley with its radiant plants, the night sky, the bright beam +of the torch. Now he moved through that haze as one walks +through a dream approaching nightmare, striding with an +effort as if wading through a deterring flood. Sound, sight—one +after another those senses were taken from him. Desperately +Shann held to one thing, his own sense of identity. +He was Shann Lantee, Terran breed, out of Tyr, of the Survey +Service. Some part of him repeated those facts with vast +urgency against an almost overwhelming force which strove +to defeat that awareness of self, making him nothing but a tool—or +a weapon—for another's use.</p> + +<p>The Terran fought, soundlessly but fiercely, on a battleground +which was within him, knowing in a detached way +that his body obeyed another's commands.</p> + +<p>"I am Shann—" he cried without audible speech. "I am myself. +I have two hands, two legs.... I think for myself! I am +a <i>man</i>——"</p> + +<p>And to that came an answer of sorts, a blow of will striking +at his resistance, a will which struggled to drown him before +ebbing, leaving behind it a faint suggestion of bewilderment, +of a dawn of concern.</p> + +<p>"I am a <i>man</i>!" he hurled that assertion as he might have +thrust deep with one of the crude spears he had used against +the Throgs. For against what he faced now his weapons were +as crude as spears fronting blasters. "I am Shann Lantee, +Terran, man...." Those were facts; no haze could sweep +them from his mind or take away that heritage.</p> + +<p>And again there was the lightening of the pressure, the +slight recoil, which could only be a prelude to another assault +upon his last stronghold. He clutched his three facts to him +as a shield, groping for others which might have afforded a +weapon of rebuttal.</p> + +<p>Dreams, these Warlockians dealt in and through dreams. +And the opposite of dreams are facts! His name, his breed,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> +his sex—these were facts. And Warlock itself was a fact. +The earth under his boots was a fact. The water which +washed around the island was a fact. The air he breathed was +a fact. Flesh, blood, bones—facts, all of them. Now he was +a struggling identity imprisoned in a rebel body. But that +body was real. He tried to feel it. Blood pumped from his +heart, his lungs filled and emptied; he struggled to feel those +processes.</p> + +<p>With a terrifying shock, the envelope which had held him +vanished. Shann was choking, struggling in water. He flailed +out with his arms, kicked his legs. One hand grated painfully +against stone. Hardly knowing what he did, but fighting for +his life, Shann caught at that rock and drew his head out of +water. Coughing and gasping, half drowned, he was weak +with the panic of his close brush with death.</p> + +<p>For a long moment he could only cling to the rock which +had saved him, retching and dazed, as the water washed about +his body, a current tugging at his trailing legs. There was +light of a sort here, patches of green which glowed with the +same subdued light as the bushes of the outer world, for he +was no longer under the night sky. A rock-roof was but +inches over his head; he must be in some cave or tunnel under +the surface of the sea. Again a gust of panic shook him +as he felt trapped.</p> + +<p>The water continued to pull at Shann, and in his weakened +condition it was a temptation to yield to that pull; the +more he fought it the more he was exhausted. At last the Terran +turned on his back, trying to float with the stream, sure +he could no longer battle it.</p> + +<p>Luckily those few inches of space above the surface of the +water continued, and he had air to breathe. But the fear of +that ending, of being swept under the surface, chewed at his +nerves. And his bodily danger burned away the last of the +spell which had held him, brought him into this place, wherever +it might be.</p> + +<p>Was it only his heightened imagination, or had the current +grown swifter? Shann tried to gauge the speed of his passage<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> +by the way the patches of green light slipped by. Now +he turned and began to swim slowly, feeling as if his arms +were leaden weights, his ribs a cage to bind his aching lungs.</p> + +<p>Another patch of light ... larger ... spreading across the +roof over head. Then, he was out! Out of the tunnel into a +cavern so vast that its arching roof was like a skydome far +above his head. But here the patches of light were brighter, +and they were arranged in odd groups which had a familiar +look to them.</p> + +<p>Only, better than freedom overhead, there was a shore +not too distant. Shann swam for that haven, summoning up +the last rags of his strength, knowing that if he could not +reach it very soon he was finished. Somehow he made it and +lay gasping, his cheek resting on sand finer than any of the +outer world, his fingers digging into it for purchase to drag his +body on. But when he collapsed, his legs were still awash in +water.</p> + +<p>No footfall could be heard on that sand. But he knew that +he was no longer alone. He braced his hands and with painful +effort levered up his body. Somehow he made it to his +knees, but he could not stand. Instead he half tumbled back, +so that he faced them from a sitting position.</p> + +<p><i>Them</i>—there were three of them—the dragon-headed ones +with their slender, jewel-set bodies glittering even in this +subdued light, their yellow eyes fastened on him with a remoteness +which did not approach any human emotion, save +perhaps that of a cold and limited wonder. But behind them +came a fourth, one he knew by the patterns on her body.</p> + +<p>Shann clasped his hands about his knees to still the trembling +of his body, and eyed them back with all the defiance he +could muster. Nor did he doubt that he had been brought +here, his body as captive to their will, as had been that of +their spy or messenger in his crude snare on the island.</p> + +<p>"Well, you have me," he said hoarsely. "Now what?"</p> + +<p>His words boomed weirdly out over the water, were echoed +from the dim outer reaches of the cavern. There was no answer. +They merely stood watching him. Shann stiffened, determined<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> +to hold to his defiance and to that identity which he +now knew was his weapon against the powers they used.</p> + +<p>The one who had somehow drawn him there moved at last, +circling around the other three with a suggestion of diffidence +in her manner. Shann jerked back his head as her hand +stretched to touch his face. And then, guessing that she +sought her peculiar form of communication, he submitted to +her finger tips, though now his skin crawled under that light +but firm pressure and he shrank from the contract.</p> + +<p>There were no sensations this time. To his amazement a +concrete inquiry shaped itself in his brain, as clear as if the +question had been asked aloud: "Who are you?"</p> + +<p>"Shann...." he began vocally, and then turned words into +thoughts. "Shann Lantee, Terran, man." He made his answer +the same which had kept him from succumbing to their complete +domination.</p> + +<p>"Name—Shann Lantee, man—yes." The other accepted +those, "Terran?" That was a question.</p> + +<p>Did these people have any notion of space travel? Could +they understand the concept of another world holding intelligent +beings?</p> + +<p>"I come from another world...." He tried to make a clean-cut +picture in his mind—a globe in space, a ship blasting +free....</p> + +<p>"Look!" The fingers still rested between his eyebrows, but +with her other hand the Warlockian was pointing up to the +dome of the cavern.</p> + +<p>Shann followed her order. He studied those patches of +light which had seemed so vaguely familiar at his first sighting, +studying them closely to know them for what they were. +A star map! A map of the heavens as they could be seen from +the outer crust of Warlock.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I come from the stars," he answered, booming with +his voice.</p> + +<p>The fingers dropped from his forehead; the scaled head +swung around to exchange glances, which were perhaps some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> +unheard communication with the other three. Then the hand +was extended again.</p> + +<p>"Come!"</p> + +<p>Fingers fell from his head to his right wrist, closing there +with surprising strength; and some of that strength together +with a new energy flowed from them into him, so that he +found and kept his feet as the other drew him up.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="THE_VEIL_OF_ILLUSION" id="THE_VEIL_OF_ILLUSION"></a>12. THE VEIL OF ILLUSION</h2> + + +<p>Perhaps his status was that of a prisoner, but Shann was too +tired to press for an explanation. He was content to be left +alone in the unusual circular, but roofless, room of the structure +to which they had brought him. There was a thick mat-like +pallet in one corner, short for the length of his body, but +softer than any bed he had rested on since he had left the +Terran camp before the coming of the Throgs. Above him +glimmered those patches of light symbolizing the lost stars. +He blinked at them until they all ran together in bands +like the jeweled coils on Warlockian bodies; then he slept—dreamlessly.</p> + +<p>The Terran awoke with all his senses alert; some silent +alarm might have triggered that instant awareness of himself +and his surroundings. There had been no change in the star +pattern still overhead; no one had entered the round chamber. +Shann rolled over on his mat bed, conscious that all his +aches had vanished. Just as his mind was clearly active, so did +his body also respond effortlessly to his demands. He was not +aware of any hunger or thirst, though a considerable length +of time must have passed since he had made his mysteriously +contrived exit from the outer world.</p> + +<p>In spite of the humidity of the air, his ragged garments had +dried on his body. Shann got to his feet, trying to order the +sorry remnants of his uniform, eager to be on the move. +Though to where and for what purpose he could not have +answered.</p> + +<p>The door through which he had entered remained closed,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> +refusing to yield to his push. Shann stepped back, eyeing the +distance to the top of the partition between the roofless rooms. +The walls were smooth with the gloss of a sea shell's interior, +but the exuberant confidence which had been with him since +his awakening refused to accept such a minor obstacle.</p> + +<p>He made two test leaps, both times his fingers striking +the wall well below the top of the partition. Shann gathered +himself together as might a cat and tried the third time, putting +into that effort every last ounce of strength, determination +and will. He made it, though his arms jerked as the weight +of his body hung from his hands. Then a scramble, a knee +hooked over the top, and he was perched on the wall, able to +study the rest of the building.</p> + +<p>In shape, the structure was unlike anything he had seen on +his home world or reproduced in any of the tri-dee records +of Survey accessible to him. The rooms were either circular +or oval, each separated from the next by a short passage, so +that the overall impression was that of ten strings of beads +radiating from a central knot of one large chamber, all with +the uniform nacre walls and a limited amount of furnishings.</p> + +<p>As he balanced on the narrow perch, Shann could sight +no other movement in the nearest line of rooms, those connected +by corridors with his own. He got to his feet to walk +the tightrope of the upper walls toward that inner chamber +which was the heart of the Warlockian—palace? town? +apartment dwelling? At least it was the only structure on the +island, for he could see the outer rim of that smooth soft sand +ringing it about. The island itself was curiously symmetrical, +a perfect oval, too perfect to be a natural outcrop of sand and +rock.</p> + +<p>There was no day or night here in the cavern. The light +from the roof patches remained constantly the same, and +that flow was abetted within the building by a soft radiation +from the walls. Shann reached the next room in line, hunkering +down to see within it. To all appearances the chamber +was exactly the same as the one he had just left; there were +the same unadorned walls, a thick mat bed against the far<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> +side, and no indication whether it was in use or had not been +entered for days.</p> + +<p>He was on the next section of corridor wall when he caught +that faint taint in the air, the very familiar scent of wolverines. +Now it provided Shann with a guide as well as a promise +of allies.</p> + +<p>The next bead-room gave him what he wanted. Below +him Taggi and Togi paced back and forth. They had already +torn to bits the sleeping mat which had been the +chamber's single furnishing, and their temper was none too +certain. As Shann squatted well above their range of vision, +Taggi reared against the opposite wall, his claws finding no +hold on the smooth coating of its surface. They were as competently +imprisoned as if they had been dropped into a huge +fishbowl, and they were not taking to it kindly.</p> + +<p>How had the animals been brought here? Down that water +tunnel by the same unknown method he himself had been +transported until that almost disastrous awakening in the center +of the flood? The Terran did not doubt that the doors +of the room were as securely fastened as those of his own +further down the corridor. For the moment the wolverines +were safe; he could not free them. And he was growing +increasingly certain that if he found any of his native jailers, +it would be at the center of that wheel of rooms and corridors.</p> + +<p>Shann made no attempt to attract the animals' attention, +but kept on along his tightrope path. He passed two more +rooms, both empty, both differing in no way from those he +had already inspected; and then he came to the central +chamber, four times as big as any of the rest and with a +much brighter wall light.</p> + +<p>The Terran crouched, one hand on the surface of the +partition top as an additional balance, the other gripping his +stunner. For some reason his captors had not disarmed him. +Perhaps they believed they had no necessity to fear his off-world +weapon.</p> + +<p>"Have you grown wings?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span></p> + +<p>The words formed in his brain, bringing with them a sense +of calm amusement to reduce all his bold exploration to the +level of a child's first staggering steps. Shann fought his first +answering flare of pure irritation. To lose even a fraction of +control was to open a door for them. He remained where he +was as if he had never "heard" that question, surveying the +room below with all the impassiveness he could summon.</p> + +<p>Here the walls were no smooth barrier, but honeycombed +with niches in a regular pattern. And in each of the +niches rested a polished skull, a nonhuman skull. Only the +outlines of those ranked bones were familiar; for just so had +looked the great purple-red rock where the wheeling flyers +issued from the eye sockets. A rock island had been fashioned +into a skull—by design or nature?</p> + +<p>And upon closer observation the Terran could see that +there was a difference among these ranked skulls, a mutation +of coloring from row to row, a softening of outline, perhaps +by the wearing of time.</p> + +<p>There was also a table of dull black, rising from the flooring +on legs which were not more than a very few inches high, +so that from his present perch the board appeared to rest on +the pavement itself. Behind the table in a row, as shopkeepers +might await a customer, three of the Warlockians, seated +cross-legged on mats, their hands folded primly before them. +And at the side a fourth, the one whom he had trapped on +the island.</p> + +<p>Not one of those spiked heads rose to view him. But they +knew that he was there; perhaps they had known the very +instant he had left the room or cell in which they had shut +him. And they were so very sure of themselves.... Once +again Shann subdued a spark of anger. That same patience +with its core of stubborn determination which had brought +him to Warlock backed his moves now. The Terran swung +down, landing lightly on his feet, facing the three behind the +table, towering well over them as he stood erect, yet gaining +no sense of satisfaction from that merely physical fact.</p> + +<p>"You have come." The words sounded as if they might<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> +be a part of some polite formula. So he replied in kind and +aloud.</p> + +<p>"I have come." Without waiting for their bidding, he +dropped into the same cross-legged pose, fronting them now +on a more equal level across their dead black table.</p> + +<p>"And why have you come, star voyager?" That thought +seemed to be a concentrated effort from all three rather than +any individual questioning.</p> + +<p>"And why did you bring me?" He hesitated, trying to +think of some polite form of address. Those he knew which +were appropriate to their sex on other worlds seemed incongruous +when applied to the bizarre figures now facing him. +"Wise ones," he finally chose.</p> + +<p>Those unblinking yellow eyes conveyed no emotion; certainly +his human gaze could detect no change of expression +on their nonhuman faces.</p> + +<p>"You are a male."</p> + +<p>"I am," he agreed, not seeing just what that fact had to do +with either diplomatic fencing or his experiences of the immediate +past.</p> + +<p>"Where then is your thoughtguider?"</p> + +<p>Shann puzzled over that conception, guessed at its meaning.</p> + +<p>"I am my own thoughtguider," he returned stoutly, with +all the conviction he could manage to put into that reply.</p> + +<p>Again he met a yellow-green stare, but he sensed a change +in them. Some of their complacency had ebbed; his reply had +been as a stone dropped into a quiet pool, sending ripples out +afar to disturb the customary mirror surface of smooth +serenity.</p> + +<p>"The star-born one speaks the truth!" That came from the +Warlockian who had been his <ins class="corr" title="Original reads 'fist'">first</ins> contact.</p> + +<p>"It would appear that he does." The agreement was +measured, and Shann knew that he was meant to "overhear" +that.</p> + +<p>"It would seem, Readers-of-the-rods"—the middle one of +the triumvirate at the table spoke now—"that all living things<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> +do not follow our pattern of life. But that is possible. A male +who thinks for himself ... unguided, who dreams perhaps! +Or who can understand the truth of dreaming! Strange indeed +must be his people. Sharers-of-my-visions, let us consult +the Old Ones concerning this." For the first time one of those +crested heads moved, the gaze shifted from Shann to the +ranks of the skulls, pausing at one.</p> + +<p>Shann, ready for any wonder, did not betray his amazement +when the ivory inhabitant of that particular niche +moved, lifted from its small compartment, and drifted buoyantly +through the air to settle at the right-hand corner of the +table. Only when it had safely grounded did the eyes of +the Warlockian move to another niche on the other side of the +curving room, this time bringing up from close to floor level +a time-darkened skull to occupy the left corner of the table.</p> + +<p>There was a third shifting from the weird storehouse, a last +skull to place between the other two. And now the youngest +native arose from her mat to bring a bowl of green crystal. +One of her seniors took it in both hands, making a gesture of +offering it to all three skulls, and then gazed over its rim at +the Terran.</p> + +<p>"We shall cast the rods, man-who-thinks-without-a-guide. +Perhaps then we shall see how strong <i>your</i> dreams are—to be +bent to your using, or to break you for your impudence."</p> + +<p>Her hands swayed the bowl from side to side, and there +was an answering whisper from its interior as if the contents +slid loosely there. Then one of her companions reached forward +and gave a quick tap to the bottom of that container, +spilling out upon the table a shower of brightly colored +slivers each an inch or so long.</p> + +<p>Shann, staring at the display in bewilderment, saw that in +spite of the seeming carelessness of that toss the small needles +had spread out on the blank surface to form a design in arrangement +and color. And he wondered how that skillful +trick had been accomplished.</p> + +<p>All three of the Warlockians bent their heads to study the +grouping of the tiny sticks, their young subordinate leaning<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> +forward also, her eagerness less well controlled than her elders'. +And now it was as if a curtain had fallen between the +Terran and the aliens, all sense of communication which had +been with him since he had entered the skull-lined chamber +was summarily cut off.</p> + +<p>A hand moved, making the jeweled pattern—braceleting +wrist and extending up the arm—flash subdued fire. Fingers +swept the sticks back into the bowl; four pairs of yellow +eyes raised to regard Shann once more, but the blanket of +their withdrawal still held.</p> + +<p>The youngest Warlockian took the bowl from the elder +who held it, stood for a long moment with it resting between +her palms, fixing Shann with an unreadable stare. Then she +came toward him. One of those at the table put out a restraining +hand.</p> + +<p>This time Shann did <i>not</i> master his start as he heard the +first audible voice which had not been his own. The skull at +the left hand on the table, by its yellowed color the oldest +of those summoned from the niches, was moving, moving because +its jaws gaped and then snapped, emitting a faint +bleat which might have been a word or two.</p> + +<p>She who would have halted the young Warlockian's advance, +withdrew her hand. Then her fingers curled in an unmistakable +beckoning gesture. Shann came to the table, but +he could not quite force himself near that chattering skull, +even though it had stopped its jig of speech.</p> + +<p>The bowl of sticks was offered to him. Still no message +from mind to mind, but he could guess at what they wanted +of him. The crystal substance was not cool to the touch as he +had expected; rather it was warm, as living flesh might feel. +And the colored sticks filled about two thirds of the interior, +lying all mixed together without any order.</p> + +<p>Shann concentrated on recalling the <ins class="corr" title="Original reads 'ceremoney'">ceremony</ins> the Warlockian +had used before the first toss. She had offered the +bowl to the skulls in turn. The skulls! But he was no consulter +of skulls. Still holding the bowl close to his chest, Shann +looked up over the roofless walls at the star map on the roof<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> +of the cavern. There, that was Rama; and to its left, just a +little above, was Tyr's system where swung the stark world of +his birth, and of which he had only few good memories, but +of which he was a part. The Terran raised the bowl to that +spot of light which marked Tyr's pale sun.</p> + +<p>Smiling with a wry twist, he lowered the bowl, and on impulse +of pure defiance he offered it to the skull that had +chattered. Immediately he realized that the move had had +an electric effect upon the aliens. Slowly at first, and then +faster, he began to swing the bowl from side to side, the +needles slipping, mixing within. And as he swung it, Shann +held it out over the expanse of the table.</p> + +<p>The Warlockian who had given him the bowl was the one +who struck it on the bottom, causing a rain of splinters. To +Shann's astonishment, mixed as they had been in the container, +they once more formed a pattern, and not the same +pattern the Warlockians had consulted earlier. The dampening +curtain between them vanished; he was in touch mind to +mind once again.</p> + +<p>"So be it." The center Warlockian spread out her four-fingered +thumbless hands above the scattered needles. "What +is read, is read."</p> + +<p>Again a formula. He caught a chorus of answer from the +others.</p> + +<p>"What is read, is read. To the dreamer the dream. Let the +dream be known for what it is, and there is life. Let the +dream encompass the dreamer falsely, and all is lost."</p> + +<p>"Who can question the wisdom of the Old Ones?" asked +their leader. "We are those who read the messages they send, +out of their mercy. This is a strange thing they bid us do, +man—open for you our own initiates' road to the veil of illusion. +That way has never been for males, who dream without +set purpose and have not the ability to know true from false, +have not the courage to face their dreams to the truth. Do +so—if you can!" There was a flash of mockery in that, combined +with something else—stronger than distaste, not as strong +as hatred, but certainly not friendly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></p> + +<p>She held out her hands and Shann saw now, lying on a +slowly closing palm, a disk such as the one Thorvald had +shown him. The Terran had only one moment of fear and then +came blackness, more absolute than the dark of any night he +had ever known.</p> + +<p>Light once more, green light with an odd shimmering +quality to it. The skull-lined walls were gone; there were no +walls, no building held him. Shann strode forward, and +his boots sank in sand, that smooth, satin sand which had +ringed the island in the cavern. But he was certain he was +no longer on that island, even within that cavern, though far +above him there was still a dome of roof.</p> + +<p>The source of the green shimmer lay to his left. Somehow +he found himself reluctant to turn and face it. That would +commit him to action. But Shann turned.</p> + +<p>A veil, a veil of rippling green. Material? No, rather mist +or light. A veil depending from some source so far over his +head that its origin was hidden in the upper gloom, a veil +which was a barrier he must cross.</p> + +<p>With every nerve protesting, Shann walked forward, unable +to keep back. He flung up his arm to protect his face as +he marched into that stuff. It was warm, and the gas—if +gas it was—left no slick of moisture on his skin in spite of its +foggy consistency. And it was no veil or curtain, for although +he was already well into the murk, he saw no end to it. +Blindly he trudged on, unable to sight anything but the rolling +billows of green, pausing now and again to go down on +one knee and pat the sand underfoot, reassured at the reality +of that footing.</p> + +<p>And when he met nothing menacing, Shann began to relax. +His heart no longer labored; he made no move to draw +the stunner or knife. Where he was and for what purpose, +he had no idea. But there <i>was</i> a purpose in this and that the +Warlockians were behind it, he did not doubt. The "initiates' +road," the leader had said, and the conviction was steady in +his mind that he faced some test of alien devising.</p> + +<p>A cavern with a green veil—his memory awoke. Thorvald's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> +dream! Shann paused, trying to remember how the other had +described this place. So he was enacting Thorvald's dream! +And could the Survey officer now be caught in Shann's +dream in turn, climbing up somewhere into the nose slit of a +skull-shaped mountain?</p> + +<p>Green fog without end, and Shann lost in it. How long had +he been here? Shann tried to reckon time, the time since his +coming into the water-world of the starred cavern. He realized +that he had not eaten, nor drank, nor desired to do so +either—nor did he now. Yet he was not weak; in fact, he +had never felt such tireless energy as possessed his spare body.</p> + +<p>Was this <i>all</i> a dream? His threatened drowning in the underground +stream a nightmare? Yet there was a pattern in +this, just as there had been a pattern in the needles he had +spilled across the table. One even led to another with +discernible logic; because he had tossed that particular pattern +he had come here.</p> + +<p>According to the ambiguous instructions or warnings of the +Warlockian witch, his safety in this place would depend +upon his ability to tell true dreams from false. But how ... +why? So far he had done nothing except walk through a +green fog, and for all he knew, he might well be traveling in +circles.</p> + +<p>Because there was nothing else to do, Shann walked on, his +boots pressing sand, rising from each step with a small +sucking sound. Then, as he stooped to search for some indication +of a path or road which might guide him, his ears +caught the slightest of noises—other small sucking whispers. +He was not the only wayfarer in this place!</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="HE_WHO_DREAMS" id="HE_WHO_DREAMS"></a>13. HE WHO DREAMS....</h2> + + +<p>The mist was not a quiet thing; it billowed and curled until +it appeared to half-conceal darker shadows, any one of +which could be an enemy. Shann remained hunkered on the +sand, every sense abnormally alert, watching the fog. He was +still sure he could hear sounds which marked the progress +of another. What other? One of the Warlockians tracking +him to spy? Or was there some prisoner like himself lost out +there in the murk? Could it be Thorvald?</p> + +<p>Now the sound had ceased. He was not even sure from +what direction it had first come. Perhaps that other was listening +now, as intent upon locating him. Shann ran his +tongue over dry lips. The impulse to call out, to try and contact +any fellow traveler here, was strong. Only hard-learned +caution kept him silent. He got to his hands and knees, uncertain +as to his previous direction.</p> + +<p>Shann crept. Someone expecting a man walking erect +might be suitably distracted by the arrival of a half-seen figure +on all fours. He halted again to listen.</p> + +<p>He had been right! The sound of a very muffled footfall +or footfalls, carried to his ears. He was sure that the sound +was louder, that the unknown was approaching. Shann +stood, his hand close to his stunner. He was almost tempted +to spray that beam blindly before him, hoping to hit the unseen +by chance.</p> + +<p>A shadow—something more swift than a shadow, more +than one of the tricks the curling fog played on eyes—was +moving with purpose and straight for him. Still, prudence +restrained Shann from calling out.</p> + +<p>The figure grew clearer. A Terran! It could be Thorvald! +But remembering how they had last parted, Shann did not +hurry to meet him.</p> + +<p>That shadow-shape stretched out a long arm in a sweep +as if to pull aside some of the vapor concealing them from each<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> +other. Then Shann shivered as if that fog had suddenly turned +into the drive of frigid snow. For the mist did roll back so +that the two of them stood in an irregular clearing in its +midst.</p> + +<p>And he did not front Thorvald.</p> + +<p>Shann was caught up in the ice grip of an old fear, frozen +by it, but somehow clinging to a hope that he did not see +the unbelievable.</p> + +<p>Those hands drawing the lash of a whip back into striking +readiness ... a brutal nose broken askew, a blaster burn +puckering across cheek to misshapen ear ... that, evil, gloating +grin of anticipation. Flick, flick, the slight dance of the +lash in a master's hand as those thick fingers tightened about +the stock of the whip. In a moment it would whirl up to lay +a ribbon of fire about Shann's defenceless shoulders. Then +Logally would laugh and laugh, his sadistic mirth echoed by +those other men who played jackals to his rogue lion.</p> + +<p>Other men.... Shann shook his head dazedly. But he did +not stand again in the Dump-size bar of the Big Strike. And +he was no longer a terrorized youngster, fit meat for Logally's +amusement. Only the whip rose, the lash curled out, +catching Shann just as it had that time years ago, delivering +a red slash of pure agony. But Logally was dead, Shann's +mind screamed, fighting frantically against the evidence of +his eyes, of that pain in his chest and shoulder. The Dump +bully had been spaced by off-world miners, now also dead, +whose claims he had tried to jump out in the Ajax system.</p> + +<p>Logally drew back the lash, preparing to strike again. Shann +faced a man five years dead who walked and fought. Or, +Shann bit hard upon his lower lip, holding desperately to +sane reasoning—did he indeed face anything? Logally was +the ancient devil of his boyhood produced anew by the +witchery of Warlock. Or had Shann himself been led to recreate +both the man and the circumstances of their first meeting +with fear as a weapon to pull the creator down? Dream +true or false. Logally <i>was</i> dead; therefore, this dream was +false, it had to be.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span></p> + +<p>The Terran began to walk toward that grinning ogre rising +out of his old nightmares. His hand was no longer on the +butt of his stunner, but swung loosely at his side. He saw +the coming lash, the wicked promise in those small narrowed +eyes. This was Logally at the acme of his strength, when he +was most to be feared, as he had continued to exist over the +years in the depths of a boy-child's memory. But Logally was +<i>not</i> alive; only in a dream could he be.</p> + +<p>For the second time the lash bit at Shann, curling about his +body, to dissolve. There was no alteration in Logally's grin, +His muscular arm drew back as he aimed a third blow. Shann +continued to walk forward, bringing up one hand, not to +strike at that sweating, bristly jaw, but as if to push the other +out of his path. And in his mind he held one thought: this +was not Logally; it could not be. Ten years had passed since +they had met. And for five of those years Logally had been +dead. Here was Warlockian witchery, to be met by sane +Terran reasoning.</p> + +<p>Shann was alone. The mist, which had formed walls, enclosed +him again. But still there was a smarting brand across +his shoulder. Shann drew aside the rags of his uniform +blouse to discover a welt, raw and red. And seeing that, his +unbelief was shaken.</p> + +<p>When he had believed in Logally and in Logally's weapon, +the other had had reality enough to strike that blow, make +the lash cut deep. But when the Terran had faced the phantom +with the truth, then neither Logally nor his lash existed, +Shann shivered, trying not to think what might lie before +him. Visions out of nightmares which could put on substance! +He had dreamed of Logally in the past, many times. +And he had had other dreams, just as frightening. Must <ins class="corr" title="Original reads 'be'">he</ins> +front those nightmares, all of them—? Why? To amuse his +captors, or to prove <ins class="corr" title="Original reads 'then'">their</ins> contention that he was a fool to +challenge the powers of such mistresses of illusion?</p> + +<p>How did they know just what dreams to use in order to +break him? Or did he himself furnish the actors and the +action, projecting old terrors in this mist as a <ins class="corr" title="Original reads 'trid-ee'">tri-dee</ins> tape<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> +projected a story in three dimensions for the amusement of +the viewer?</p> + +<p>Dream true—was this progress through the mist also a +dream? Dreams within dreams.... Shann put his hand to +his head, uncertain, badly shaken. But that stubborn core of +determination within him was still holding. Next time he +would be prepared at once to face down any resurrected +memory.</p> + +<p>Walking slowly, pausing to listen for the slightest sound +which might herald the coming of a new illusion, Shann tried +to guess which of his nightmares might come to face him. But +he was to learn that there was more than one kind of dream. +Steeled against old fears, he was met by another emotion +altogether.</p> + +<p>There was a fluttering in the air, a little crooning cry +which pulled at his heart. Without any conscious thought, +Shann held out his hands, whistling on two notes a call which +his lips appeared to remember more quickly than his mind. +The shape which winged through the fog came straight to +his waiting hold, tore at long-walled-away hurt with its once +familiar beauty. It flew with a list; one of the delicately +tinted wings was injured, had never <ins class="corr" title="Original reads 'heeled'">healed</ins> straight. But +the seraph nestled into the hollow of Shann's two palms +and looked up at him with all the old liquid trust.</p> + +<p>"Trav! Trav!" He cradled the tiny creature carefully, regarded +with joy its feathered body, the curled plumes on its +proudly held head, felt the silken patting of those infinitesimal +claws against his protecting fingers.</p> + +<p>Shann sat down in the sand, hardly daring to breathe. +Trav—again! The wonder of this never-to-be-hoped-for return +filled him with a surge of happiness almost too great to +bear, which hurt in its way with as great a pain as Logally's +lash; it was a pain rooted in love, not fear and hate.</p> + +<p>Logally's lash....</p> + +<p>Shann trembled. Trav raised one of those small claws toward +the Terran's face, crooning a soft caressing cry for recognition,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> +for protection, trying to be a part of Shann's life +once more.</p> + +<p>Trav! How could he bear to will Trav into nothingness, to +bear to summon up another harsh memory which would +sweep Trav away? Trav was the only thing Shann had +ever known which he could love wholeheartedly, that had +answered his love with a return gift of affection so much +greater than the light body he now held.</p> + +<p>"Trav!" he whispered softly. Then he made his great effort +<ins class="corr" title="Original reads 'again'">against</ins> this second and far more subtle attack. With the same +agony which he had known years earlier, he resolutely summoned +a bitter memory, sat nursing once more a broken +thing which died in pain he could not ease, aware himself +of every moment of that pain. And what was worse, this +time there clung that nagging little doubt. What if he had +not forced the memory? Perhaps he could have taken Trav +with him unhurt, alive, at least for a while.</p> + +<p>Shann covered his face with his now empty hands. To +see a nightmare flicker out after facing squarely up to its +terror, that was no great task. To give up a dream which was +part of a lost heaven, that cut cruelly deep. The Terran +dragged himself to his feet, drained and weary, stumbling +on.</p> + +<p>Was there no end to this aimless circling through a world +of green smoke? He shambled ahead, moving his feet leadenly. +How long had he been here? There was no division in +time, just the unchanging light which was a part of the fog +through which he plodded.</p> + +<p>Then he heard more than any shuffle of foot across sand, +any crooning of a long dead seraph, the rising and falling of +a voice: a human voice—not quite singing or reciting, but +something between the two. Shann paused, searching his +memory, a memory which seemed bruised, for the proper +answer to match that sound.</p> + +<p>But, though he recalled scene after scene out of the years, +that voice did not trigger any return from his past. He +turned toward its source, dully determined to get over quickly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> +the meeting which lay behind that signal. Only, though he +walked on and on, Shann did not appear any closer to the +man behind the voice, nor was he able to make out separate +words composing that chant, a chant broken now and then +by pauses, so that the Terran grew aware of the distress of +his fellow prisoner. For the impression that he sought another +captive came out of nowhere and grew as he cast +wider and wider in his quest.</p> + +<p>Then he might have turned some invisible corner in the +<ins class="corr" title="Original reads 'midst'">mist</ins>, for the chant broke out anew in stronger volume, and +now he was able to distinguish words he knew.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"... where blow the winds between the worlds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hang the suns in dark of space.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Power is given a man to use.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let him do so well before the last accounting—"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The voice was hoarse, cracked, the words spaced with uneven +catches of breath, as if they had been repeated many, +many times to provide an anchor against madness, form a +tie to reality. And hearing that note, Shann slowed his pace. +This was out of no memory of his; he was sure of that.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"... blow the winds between the worlds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hang the suns in ... dark—of—of—"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>That harsh croak of voice was running down, as a clock +runs down for lack of winding. Shann sped on, reacting to a +plea which did not lay in the words themselves.</p> + +<p>Once more the mist curled back, provided him with an +open space. A man sat on the sand, his fists buried wrist deep +in the smooth grains on either side of his body, his eyes set, +red-rimmed, glazed, his body rocking back and forth in time +to his labored chant.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"... the dark of space—"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"Thorvald!" Shann skidded in the sand, went down on his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> +knees. The manner of their last parting was forgotten as he +took in the officer's condition.</p> + +<p>The other did not stop his swaying, but his head turned +with a stiff jerk, the gray eyes making a visible effort to focus +on Shann. Then some of the strain smoothed out of the gaunt +features and Thorvald laughed softly.</p> + +<p>"Garth!"</p> + +<p>Shann stiffened but had no chance to protest that mistaken +identification as the other continued: "So you made class +one status, boy! I always knew you could if you'd work for +it. A couple of black marks on your record, sure. But those +can be rubbed out, boy, when you're willing to try. Thorvalds +always have been Survey. Our father would have been +proud."</p> + +<p>Thorvald's voice flattened, his smile faded, there was a +growing spark of some emotion in those gray eyes. Unexpectedly, +he hurled himself forward, his hands clawing for +Shann's throat. He bore the younger man down under him to +the sand where Lantee found himself fighting desperately for +his life against a man who could only be mad.</p> + +<p>Shann used a trick learned on the Dumps, and his opponent +doubled up with a gasp of agony to let the younger +man break free. He planted a knee on the small of Thorvald's +back, digging the officer into the sand, pinning down +his arms in spite of the other's struggles. Regaining his own +breath in gulps, Shann tried to appeal to some spark of +reason in the other.</p> + +<p>"Thorvald! This is Lantee—Lantee——" His name echoed in +the mist-walled void like an unhuman wail.</p> + +<p>"Lantee——? No, Throg! Lantee—Throg—killed my brother!"</p> + +<p>Sand puffed out with the breath, which expelled that indictment. +But Thorvald no longer fought, and Shann believed +him close to collapse.</p> + +<p>Shann relaxed his hold, rolling the other man over. Thorvald +obeyed his pull limply, lying face upward, sand in his +hair and eyebrows, crusting his slack lips. The younger man +brushed the dirt away gently as the other opened his eyes to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> +regard Shann with his old impersonal stare.</p> + +<p>"You're alive," Thorvald stated bleakly. "Garth's dead. You +ought to be dead too."</p> + +<p>Shann drew back, rubbed sand from his hands, his concern +dampened by the other's patent hostility. Only that angry +accusation vanished in a blink of those gray eyes. Then +there was a warmer recognition in Thorvald's expression.</p> + +<p>"Lantee!" The younger man might just have come into +sight. "What are you doing here?"</p> + +<p>Shann tightened his belt. "Just about what you are." He +was still aloof, giving no acknowledgment of difference in +rank now. "Running around in this fog hunting the way out."</p> + +<p>Thorvald sat up, surveying the billowing walls of the hole +which contained them. Then he reached out a hand to draw +fingers down Shann's forearm.</p> + +<p>"You <i>are</i> real," he observed simply, and his voice was +warm, welcoming.</p> + +<p>"Don't bet on it," Shann snapped. "The unreal can be +mighty real—here." His hand went up to the smarting brand +on his shoulder.</p> + +<p>Thorvald nodded. "Masters of illusion," he murmured.</p> + +<p>"Mistresses," Shann corrected. "This place is run by a gang +of pretty smart witches."</p> + +<p>"Witches? You've seen them? Where? And what—who +are they?" Thorvald pounced with a return of his old-time +sharpness.</p> + +<p>"They're females right enough, and they can make the impossible +happen. I'd say that classifies them as witches. One of +them tried to take me over back on the island. I set a trap +and caught her; then somehow she transported me——" Swiftly +he outlined the chain of events leading from his sudden +awakening in the river tunnel to his present penetration of +this fog-world.</p> + +<p>Thorvald listened eagerly. When the story was finished, he +rubbed his hands across his drawn face, smearing away the +last of the sand. "At least you have some idea of who they are +and a suggestion of how you got here. I don't remember that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> +much about my own arrival. As far as I can remember I +went to sleep on the Island and woke up here!"</p> + +<p>Shann studied him and knew that Thorvald was telling +the truth. He could remember nothing of his departure in +the outrigger, the way he had fought Shann in the lagoon. +The Survey officer must have been under the control of +the Warlockians then. Quickly he gave the older man his +version of the other's actions in the outer world and Thorvald +was clearly astounded, though he did not question the facts +Shann presented.</p> + +<p>"They just <i>took</i> me!" Thorvald said in a husky half whisper. +"But why? And why are we here? Is this a prison?"</p> + +<p>Shann shook his head. "I think all this"—a wave of his +hand encompassed the green wall, what lay beyond it, and +in it—"is a test of some kind. This dream business.... A little +while ago I got to thinking that I wasn't here at all, that +I might be dreaming it all. Then I met you."</p> + +<p>Thorvald understood. "Yes, but this <i>could</i> be a dream +meeting. How can we tell?" He hesitated, almost diffidently, +before he asked: "Have you met anyone else here?"</p> + +<p>"Yes." Shann had no desire to go into that.</p> + +<p>"People out of your past life?"</p> + +<p>"Yes." Again he did not elaborate.</p> + +<p>"So did I." Thorvald's expression was bleak; his encounters +in the fog must have proved no more pleasant than Shann's. +"That suggests that we do trigger the hallucinations ourselves. +But maybe we can really lick it now."</p> + +<p>"How?"</p> + +<p>"Well, if these phantoms are born of our memories there +are about only two or three we could see together—maybe +a Throg on the rampage, or that hound we left back in the +mountains. And if we do sight anything like that, we'll know +what it is. On the other hand, if we stick together and one of +us sees something that the other can't ... well, that fact +alone will explode the ghost."</p> + +<p>There was sense in what he said. Shann aided the officer +to his feet.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I must be a better subject for their experiments than you," +the older man remarked ruefully. "They took me over completely +at the first."</p> + +<p>"You were carrying that disk," Shann pointed out. "Maybe +that acted as a focusing lens for whatever power they use to +make us play trained animals."</p> + +<p>"Could be!" Thorvald brought out the cloth-wrapped bone +coin. "I still have it." But he made no move to pull off the bit +of rag about it. "Now"—he gazed at the wall of green—"which +way?"</p> + +<p>Shann shrugged. Long ago he had lost any idea of keeping +a straight course through the murk. He might have turned +around any number of times since he first walked blindly into +this place. Then he pointed to the packet Thorvald held.</p> + +<p>"Why not flip that?" he asked. "Heads, we go that way—" +he indicated the direction in which they were facing—"tails, +we do a rightabout-face."</p> + +<p>There was an answering grin on Thorvald's lips. "As good +a guide as any we're likely to find here. We'll do it." He +pulled away the twist of cloth and with a swift snap, reminiscent +of that used by the Warlockian witch to empty the +bowl of sticks, he tossed the disk into the air.</p> + +<p>It spun, whirled, but—to their open-jawed amazement—it +did not fall to the sand. Instead it spun until it looked like +a small globe instead of a disk. And it lost its dead white for +a glow of green. When that glow became dazzling for Terran +eyes the miniature sun swung out, not in orbit but in straight +line of flight, heading to their right.</p> + +<p>With a muffled cry, Thorvald started in pursuit, Shann +running beside him. They were in a tunnel of the fog now, +and the pace set by the spinning coin was swift. The Terrans +continued to follow it at the best pace they could summon, +having no idea of where they were headed, but each with +the hope that they finally did have a guide to lead them +through this place of confusion and into a sane world where +they could face on more equal terms those who had sent them +there.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="ESCAPE" id="ESCAPE"></a>14. ESCAPE</h2> + + +<p>"Something ahead!" Thorvald did not slacken the pace set +by the brilliant spot of green they trailed. Both of the Terrans +feared to fall behind, to lose touch with that guide. Their +belief that somehow the traveling disk would bring them to +the end of the mist and its attendant illusions had grown firmer +with every foot of ground they traversed.</p> + +<p>A dark, fixed point, now partly veiled by mist, lay beyond, +and it was toward that looming half-shadow that the spinning +disk hurtled. Now the mist curled away to display its +bulk—larger, blacker and four or five times Thorvald's height. +Both men stopped short, for the disk no longer played pathfinder. +It still whirled on its axis in the air, faster and faster, +until it appeared to be throwing off sparks, but the sparks +faded against a monolith of dark rock unlike the native stone +they had seen elsewhere. For it was neither red nor warmly +brown, but a dull, dead black. It could have been a huge +stone slab, trimmed, smoothed, set up on end as a monument +or marker, except that only infinite labor could have accomplished +such a task, and there was no valid reason for such +toil as far as the Terrans could perceive.</p> + +<p>"This is it." Thorvald moved closer.</p> + +<p>By the disk's action, they deduced that their guide had +drawn them to this featureless black steel with the precision +of a beam-controlled ship. However, the purpose still eluded +them. They had hoped for some exit from the territory of the +veil, but now they faced a solid slab of dark stone, neither a +conventional exit or entrance, as they proved by circling its<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> +base. Beneath their boots was the eternal sand, around them +the fog.</p> + +<p>"Now what?" Shann asked. They had made their trip +about the slab and were back again where the disk whirled +with unceasing vigor in a shower of emerald sparks.</p> + +<p>Thorvald shook his head, scanning the rock face before +them glumly. The eagerness had gone out of his expression, +a vast weariness replacing it.</p> + +<p>"There must have been some purpose in coming here," he +replied, but his tone had lost the assurance of moments earlier.</p> + +<p>"Well, if we strike away from here, we'll just get right back +in again." Shann waved a hand toward the mist, waiting as if +with a hunter's watch upon them. "And we certainly can't +go down." He dug a boot toe into the sand to demonstrate +the folly of that. "So, what about up?"</p> + +<p>He ducked under the spinning disk to lay his hands +against the surface of the giant slab. And in so doing he +made a discovery, revealed to his touch although hidden from +sight. For his fingers, running aimlessly across the cold, +slightly uneven surface of the stone, slipped into a hollow, +quite a deep hollow.</p> + +<p>Excited, half fearing that his sudden guess might be wrong, +Shann slid his hand higher in line with that hollow, to discover +a second. The first had been level with his chest, the +second perhaps eighteen inches or so above. He jumped, to +draw his fingers down the rock, with damage to his nails but +getting his proof. There <i>was</i> a third niche, deep enough to +hold more than just the toe of a boot, and a fourth above +that....</p> + +<p>"We've a ladder of sorts here," he reported. Without waiting +for any answer from Thorvald, Shann began to climb. +The holds were so well matched in shape and size that he +was sure they could not be natural; they had been bored +there for use—the use to which he was now putting them—a +ladder to the top of the slab. Though what he might find +there was beyond his power to imagine.</p> + +<p>The disk did not rise. Shann passed that core of light,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> +climbing above it into the greater gloom. But the holes did +not fail him; each was waiting in a direct line with its companion. +And to an active man the scramble was not difficult. +He reached the summit, glanced around, and made a quick +grab for a secure handhold.</p> + +<p>Waiting for him was no level platform such as he had confidently +expected to find. The surface up which he had just +made his way fly-fashion was the outer wall of a well or +chimney. He looked down now into a pit where black nothingness +began within a yard of the top, for the radiance of +the mist did not penetrate far into that descent.</p> + +<p>Shann fought an attack of giddiness. It would be very easy +to lose control, to tumble over and be swallowed up in what +might well be a bottomless chasm. And what was the purpose +of this well? Was it a trap to entice a prisoner into an unwary +climb and then let gravity drag him over? The whole setup +was meaningless. Perhaps meaningless only to him, Shann +conceded, with a flash of level thinking. The situation could +be quite different as far as the natives were concerned. This +structure did have a reason, or it would never have been +erected in the first place.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?" Thorvald's voice was rough with +impatience.</p> + +<p>"This thing's a well." Shann edged about a fraction to +call back. "The inside is open and—as far as I can tell—goes +clear to the planet's core."</p> + +<p>"Ladder on the inside too?"</p> + +<p>Shann squirmed. That was, of course, a very obvious supposition. +He kept a tight hold with his left hand, and with +the other, he did some exploring. Yes, here was a hollow +right enough, twin to those on the outside. But to swing over +that narrow edge of safety and begin a descent into the +black of the well was far harder than any action he had +taken since the morning the Throgs had raided the camp. +The green mist could hold no terrors greater than those +with which his imagination peopled the depths now waiting<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> +to engulf him. But Shann swung over, fitted his boot into the +first hollow, and started down.</p> + +<p>The only encouragement he gained during that nightmare +ordeal was that those holes were regularly spaced. But somehow +his confidence did not feed on that fact. There always +remained the nagging fear that when he searched for the +next it would not be there and he would cling to his perch +lacking the needful strength in aching arms and legs to reclimb +the inside ladder.</p> + +<p>He was fast losing that sense of well being which had been +his during his travels through the fog; a fatigue tugged at his +arms and weighed leaden on his shoulders. Mechanically he +prospected for the next hold, and then the next. Above, the +oblong of half-light grew smaller and smaller, sometimes half +blotted out by the movements of Thorvald's body as the +other followed him down that interior way.</p> + +<p>How far <i>was</i> down? Shann giggled lightheadedly at the +humor of that, or what seemed to be humor at the moment. +He was certain that they were now below the level of the +sand floor outside the slab. And yet no end had come to the +well hollow.</p> + +<p>No break of light down here; he might have been sightless. +But just as the blind develop an extra perceptive sense of +unseen obstacles, so did Shann now find that he was aware +of a change in the nature of the space about him. His weary +arms and legs held him against the solidity of a wall, yet +the impression that there was no longer another wall at his +back grew stronger with every niche which swung him +downward. And he was as sure as if he could see it, that he +was now in a wide-open space, another cavern; perhaps, but +this one totally dark.</p> + +<p>Deprived of sight, he relied upon his ears. And there was +a sound, faint, distorted perhaps by the acoustics of this +place, but keeping up a continuous murmur. Water! Not the +wash of waves with their persistent beat, but rather the +rippling of a running stream. Water must lie below!</p> + +<p>And just as his weariness had grown with his leaving behind<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> +the fog, so now did both hunger and thirst gnaw at +Shann, all the sharper for the delay. The Terran wanted to +reach that water, could picture it in his mind, putting away +the possibility—the probability—that it might be sea-born +and salt, and so unfit to drink.</p> + +<p>The upper opening to the cavern of the fog was now so +far above him that he had to strain to see it. And that warmth +which had been there was gone. A dank chill wrapped him +here, dampened the holds to which he clung until he was +afraid of slipping. While the murmur of the water grew +louder, until its <i>slap-slap</i> sounded within arms' distance. His +boot toe skidded from a niche. Shann fought to hold on +with numbed fingers. The other foot went. He swung by his +hands, kicking vainly to regain a measure of footing.</p> + +<p>Then his arms could no longer support him, and he cried +out as he fell. Water closed about him with an icy shock +which for a moment paralyzed him. He flailed out, fighting +the flood to get his head above the surface where he could +gasp in precious gulps of air.</p> + +<p>There was a current here, a swiftly running one. Shann +remembered the one which had carried him into that cavern +in which the Warlockians had their strange dwelling. Although +there were no clusters of crystals in this tunnel to +supply him with light, the Terran began to nourish a faint +hope that he was again in that same stream, that those light +crystals would appear, and that he might eventually return +to the starting point of this meaningless journey.</p> + +<p>So he strove only to keep his head above water. Hearing +a splashing behind him, he called out: "Thorvald?"</p> + +<p>"Lantee?" The answer came back at once; the splashing +grew louder as the other swam to catch up.</p> + +<p>Shann swallowed a mouthful of the water lapping against +his chin. The taste was brackish, but not entirely salt, and +though it stung his lips, the liquid relieved a measure of his +thirst.</p> + +<p>Only no glowing crystals appeared to stud these walls, and +Shann's hope that they were on their way to the cavern of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> +the island faded. The current grew swifter, and he had to +fight to keep his head above water, his tired body reacting +sluggishly to commands.</p> + +<p>The murmur of the racing flood drummed louder in his +ears, or was that sound the same? He could no longer be +sure. Shann only knew that it was close to impossible to +snatch the necessary breath as he was rolled over and over +in the hurrying flood.</p> + +<p>In the end he was ejected into blazing, blinding light, into +a suffocation of wild water as the bullet in an ancient Terran +rifle might have been fired at no specific target. Gasping, +beaten, more than half-drowned, Shann was pummeled +by waves, literally driven up on a rocky surface which +skinned his body cruelly. He lay there, his arms moving +feebly until he contrived to raise himself in time to be +wretchedly sick. Somehow he crawled on a few feet farther +before he subsided again, blinded by the light, flinching +from the heat of the rocks on which he lay, but unable to do +more for himself.</p> + +<p>His first coherent thought was that his speculation concerning +the reality of this experience was at last resolved. This +could not possibly be an hallucination; at least this particular +sequence of events was not. And he was still hazily considering +that when a hand fell on his shoulder, fingers biting into +his raw flesh.</p> + +<p>Shann snarled, rolled over on his side. Thorvald, water +dripping from his rags—or rather steaming from them—his +shaggy hair plastered to his skull, sat there.</p> + +<p>"You all right?"</p> + +<p><ins class="corr" title="Original reads 'Shan'">Shann</ins> sat up in turn, shielding his smarting eyes. He was +bruised, battered badly enough, but he could claim no +major injuries.</p> + +<p>"I think so. Where are we?"</p> + +<p>Thorvald's lips stretched across his teeth in what was more +a grimace than a smile. "Right off the map, any map I know. +Take a look."</p> + +<p>They were on a scrap of beach—beach which was more<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> +like a reef, for it lacked any covering comparable to sand +except for some cupfuls of coarse gravel locked in rock depressions. +Rocks, red as the rust of dried blood, rose in fantastic +water-sculptured shapes around the small semi-level +space they had somehow won.</p> + +<p>This space was V-shaped, washed by equal streams on +either side of the prong of rock by water which spouted from +the face of a sheer cliff not too far away, with force enough +to spray several feet beyond its exit point. Shann seeing +that and guessing at its significance, drew a deep breath, +and heard the ghost of an answering chuckle from his companion.</p> + +<p>"Yes, that's where we came out, boy. Like to make a return +trip?"</p> + +<p>Shann shook his head, and then wished that he had not +so rashly made that move, for the world swung in a dizzy +whirl. Things had happened too fast. For the moment it was +enough that they were out of the underground ways, back +under the amber sky, feeling the bite of Warlock's sun.</p> + +<p>Steadying his head with both hands, Shann turned slowly, +to survey what might lie at their backs. The water, pouring +by on either side, suggested that they were again on an +island. Warlock, he thought gloomily, seemed to be for Terrans +a succession of islands, all hard to escape.</p> + +<p>The tangle of rocks did not encourage any exploration. +Just gazing at them added to his weariness. They rose, tier +by tier, to a ragged crown against the sky. Shann continued to +sit staring at them.</p> + +<p>"To climb that...." His voice trailed into the silence of +complete discouragement.</p> + +<p>"You climb—or swim," Thorvald stated. But, Shann noted, +the Survey officer was not in a hurry to make either move.</p> + +<p>Nowhere in that wilderness of rock was there the least +relieving bit of purple foliage. Nor did any clak-claks or +leather-headed birds tour the sky over their heads. Shann's +thirst might have been partially <ins class="corr" title="Original reads 'assauged'">assuaged</ins>, but his hunger remained. +And it was that need which forced him at last into<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> +action. The barren heights promised nothing in the way of +food, but remembering the harvest the wolverines had taken +from under the rocks along the river, he got to his feet and +lurched out on the reef which had been their salvation, +hunting some pool which might hold an edible captive or +two.</p> + +<p>So it was that Shann made the discovery of a possible +path consisting of a ledge running toward the other end of +the island, if this were an island where they had taken +refuge. The spray of the water drenched that way, feeding +small pools in the uneven surface, and strips of yellow weed +trailed in slimy ribbons back below the surface of the waves.</p> + +<p>He called to Thorvald and gestured to his find. And then, +close together, linking hands when the going became hazardous, +the men followed the path. Twice they made finds +in the pools, finned or clawed grotesque creatures, which they +killed and ate, wolfing down the few fragments of odd-tasting +flesh. Then, in a small crevice, which could hardly be +dignified by the designation of "cave," Thorvald chanced +upon a quite exciting discovery—a clutch of four greenish +eggs, each as large as his doubled fist.</p> + +<p>Their outer covering was more like tough membrane than +true shell, and the Terrans worried it open with difficulty. +Shann shut his eyes, trying not to think of what he mouthed +as he sucked his share dry. At least that semi-liquid stayed +put in his middle, though he expected disastrous results from +the experiment.</p> + +<p>More than a little heartened by this piece of luck, they +kept on, though the ledge changed from a reasonably level +surface to a series of rising, unequal steps, drawing them +away from the water. At long last they came to the end of +that path. Shann leaned back against a convenient spur of +rock.</p> + +<p>"Company!" he alerted Thorvald.</p> + +<p>The Survey officer joined him to share an outcrop of rock +from which they were provided with an excellent view of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> +the scene below, and it was a scene to hold their full attention.</p> + +<p>That soft sweep of sand which had floored the cavern of +the fog lay here also, a gray-blue carpet sloping gently out +of the sea. For Shann had no doubt that the wide stretch of +water before them was the western ocean. Walling the beach +on either side, and extending well out into the water so that +the farthest piles were awash except for their crowns, were +pillars of stone, shaped with the same finish as that slab +which had provided them a ladder of escape. And because of +the regularity of their spacing, Shann did not believe them +works of nature.</p> + +<p>Grouped between them now were the players of the +drama. One of the Warlockian witches, her gem body patterns +glittering in the sunlight, was walking backward out +of the sea, her hands held palms together, breast high, in a +Terran attitude of prayer. And following her something swam +in the water, clearly not another of her own species. But her +actions suggested that by some invisible means she was +drawing that water dweller after her. Waiting on shore were +two others of her kind, viewing her actions with close attention, +the attention of scholars for an instructor.</p> + +<p>"Wyverns!"</p> + +<p>Shann looked inquiringly at his companion. Thorvald +added a whisper of explanation. "A legend of Terra—they +were supposed to have a snake's tail instead of hind legs, but +the heads.... They're Wyverns!"</p> + +<p>Wyverns. Shann liked the sound of that word; to his +mind it well fitted the Warlockian witches. And the one they +were watching in action continued her steady backward retreat, +rolling her bemused captive out of the water. What +emerged into the blaze of sunlight was one of those fork-tailed +sea dwellers such as the Terrans had seen die after the +storm. The thing crawled out of the shallows, its eyes focused +in a blind stare on the praying hands of the Wyvern.</p> + +<p>She halted, well up on the sand, when the body of her +victim or prisoner—Shann was certain that the fork-tail was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> +one or the other—was completely out of the water. Then, +with lightning speed, she dropped her hands.</p> + +<p>Instantly fork-tail came to life. Fanged jaws snapped. +Aroused, the beast was the incarnation of evil rage, a rage +which had a measure of intelligence to direct it into deadly +action. And facing it, seemingly unarmed and defenseless, +were the slender, fragile Wyverns.</p> + +<p>Yet none of the small group of natives made any attempt +to escape. Shann thought them suicidal in their indifference +as fork-tail, short legs sending the fine sand flying in a dust +cloud, made a rush toward its enemies.</p> + +<p>The Wyvern who had led the beast ashore did not move. +But one of her companions swung up a hand, as if negligently +waving the monster to a stop. Between her first two +digits was a disk. Thorvald caught at Shann's arm.</p> + +<p>"See that! It's a copy of the one I had; it must be!"</p> + +<p>They were too far away to be sure it was a duplicate, but +It was coin-shaped and bone-white. And now the Wyvern +swung it back and forth in a metronome sweep. Fork-tail +skidded to a stop, its head beginning—reluctantly at first, +and then, with increasing speed—to echo that left-right +sweep. This Wyvern had the sea beast under control, even +as her companion had earlier held it.</p> + +<p>Chance dictated what happened next. As had her sister +charmer, the Wyvern began a backward withdrawal up the +length of the beach, drawing the sea thing in her wake. They +were very close to the foot of the drop above which the +Terrans stood, fascinated, when the sand betrayed the witch. +Her foot slipped into a hole and she was thrown backward, +her control disk spinning out of her fingers.</p> + +<p>At once the monster she had charmed shot forth its head, +snapped at that spinning trifle—and swallowed it. Then the +fork-tail hunched in a posture Shann had seen the wolverines +use when they were about to spring. The weaponless +Wyvern was the prey, and both her companions were too far +away to interfere.</p> + +<p>Why he moved he could not have explained. There was no<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> +reason for him to go to the aid of the Warlockian, one of the +same breed who had ruled him against his will. But Shann +sprang, landing in the sand on his hands and knees.</p> + +<p>The sea thing whipped around, undecided between two +possible victims. Shann had his knife free, was on his feet, +his eyes on the beast's, knowing that he had appointed himself +dragon slayer for no good reason.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="DRAGON_SLAYER" id="DRAGON_SLAYER"></a>15. DRAGON SLAYER</h2> + + +<p>"Ayeeee!" Sheer defiance, not only of the beast he fronted, +but of the Wyverns as well, brought that old rallying cry to +his lips—the call used on the Dumps of Tyr to summon +gang aid against outsiders. Fork-tail had crouched again +for a spring, but that throat-crackling blast appeared to +startle it.</p> + +<p>Shann, blade ready, took a dancing step to the right. The +thing was scaled, perhaps as well armored against frontal +attack as was the shell-creature he had fought with the aid +of the wolverines. He wished he had the Terran animals +now—with Taggi and his mate to tease and feint about the +monster, as they had done with the Throg hound—for he +would have a better chance. If only the animals were here!</p> + +<p>Those eyes—red-pitted eyes in a gargoyle head following +his every movement—perhaps those were the only vulnerable +points.</p> + +<p>Muscles tensed beneath that scaled hide. The Terran +readied himself for a sidewise leap, his knife hand raised to +rake at those eyes. A brown shape with a V of lighter fur +banding its back crossed the far range of Shann's vision. He +could not believe what he saw, not even when a snarling +animal, slavering with rage, came at a lumbering gallop to +stand beside him, a second animal on its heels.</p> + +<p>Uttering his own battle cry, Taggi attacked. The fork-tail's +head swung, imitating the movements of the wolverine +as it had earlier mimicked the swaying of the disk in the +Wyvern's hand. Togi came in from the other side. They<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> +might have been hounds keeping a bull in play. And never +had they shown such perfect team work, almost as if they +could sense what Shann desired of them.</p> + +<p>That forked tail lashed viciously, a formidable weapon. +Bone, muscles, scaled flesh, half buried in the sand, swept +up a cloud of grit into the face of the man and the animals. +Shann fell back, pawing with his free hand at his eyes. The +wolverines circled warily, trying for the attack they favored—the +spring to the shoulders, the usually fatal assault on the +spine behind the neck. But the armored head of the fork-tail, +slung low, warned them off. Again the tail lashed, and +this time Taggi was caught and hurled across the beach.</p> + +<p>Togi uttered a challenge, made a reckless dash, and +raked down the length of the fork-tail's body, fastening on +that tail, weighing it to earth with her own poundage +while the sea creature fought to dislodge her. Shann, his +eyes watering from the sand, but able to see, watched that +battle for a long second, judging that fork-tail was completely +engaged in trying to free its best weapon from the +grip of the wolverine. The latter clawed and bit with a fury +which suggested Togi intended to immobilize that weapon +by tearing it to shreds.</p> + +<p>Fork-tail wrenched its body, striving to reach its tormentor +with fangs or clawed feet. And in that struggle to +achieve an impossible position, its head slued far about, uncovering +the unprotected area behind the skull base which usually +lay under the spiny collar about its shoulders.</p> + +<p>Shann went in. With one hand he gripped the edge of +that collar—its serrations tearing his flesh—and at the same +time he drove his knife blade deep into the soft underfolds, +ripping on toward the spinal column. The blade nicked +against bone as the fork-tail's head slammed back, catching +Shann's hand and knife together in a trap. The Terran was +jerked from his feet, and flung to one side with the force of +the beast's reaction.</p> + +<p>Blood spurted up, his own blood mingled with that of +the monster. Only Togi's riding of the tail prevented Shann's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> +being beaten to death. The armored snout pointed skyward +as the creature ground the sharp edge of its collar down on +the Terran's arm. Shann, frantic with pain, drove his free fist +into one of those eyes.</p> + +<p>Fork-tail jerked convulsively; its head snapped down again +and Shann was free. The Terran threw himself back, keeping +his feet with an effort. Fork-tail was writhing, churning up +the sand in a cloud. But it could not rid itself of the knife +Shann had planted with all his strength, and which the +blows of its own armored collar were now driving deeper +and deeper into its back.</p> + +<p>It howled thinly, with an abnormal shrilling. Shann, +nursing his bleeding forearm against his chest, rolled free +from the waves of sand it threw about, bringing up against +one of the rock pillars. With that to steady him, he somehow +found his feet, and stood weaving, trying to see through the +rain of dust.</p> + +<p>The convulsions which churned up that concealing cloud +were growing more feeble. Then Shann heard the triumphant +squall from Togi, saw her brown body still on the +torn tail just above the forking. The wolverine used her +claws to hitch her way up the spine of the sea monster, +heading for the mountain of blood spouting from behind +the head. Fork-tail fought to raise that head once more; +then the massive jaw thudded into the sand, teeth snapping +fruitlessly as a flood of grit overrode the tongue, packed into +the gaping mouth.</p> + +<p>How long had it taken—that frenzy of battle on the +bloodstained beach? Shann could have set no limit in +clock-ruled time. He pressed his wounded arm tighter to him, +lurched past the still twitching sea thing to that splotch of +brown fur on the sand, shaping the wolverine's whistle with +dry lips. Togi was still busy with the kill, but Taggi lay +where that murderous tail had thrown him.</p> + +<p>Shann fell on his knees, as the beach around him developed +a curious tendency to sway. He put his good hand +to the ruffled back fur of the motionless wolverine.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Taggi!"</p> + +<p>A slight quiver answered. Shann tried awkwardly to raise +the animal's head with his own hand. As far as he could see, +there were no open wounds; but there might be broken +bones, internal injuries he did not have the skill to heal.</p> + +<p>"Taggi?" He called again gently, striving to bring that +heavy head up on his knee.</p> + +<p>"The furred one is not dead."</p> + +<p>For a moment Shann was not aware that those words had +formed in his mind, had not been heard by his ears. He +looked up, eyes blazing at the Wyvern coming toward him +in a graceful glide across the crimsoned sand. And in a space +of heartbeats his thrust of anger cooled into a stubborn +enmity.</p> + +<p>"No thanks to you," he said deliberately aloud. If the +Wyvern witch wanted to understand him, let her make the +effort; he did not try to touch her thoughts with his.</p> + +<p>Taggi stirred again, and Shann glanced down quickly. The +wolverine gasped, opened his eyes, shook his miniature bear +head, scattering pellets of sand. He sniffed at a dollop of +blood, the dark, alien blood, spattered on Shann's breeches, +and then his head came up with a reassuring alertness as he +looked to where his mate was still worrying the now quiet +fork-tail.</p> + +<p>With an effort, Taggi got to his feet, Shann aiding him. +The man ran his hand down over ribs, seeking any broken +bones. Taggi growled a warning once when that examination +brought pain in its wake, but Shann could detect no real +damage. As might a cat, the wolverine must have met the +shock of that whip-tail stroke relaxed enough to escape +serious injury. Taggi had been knocked out, but now he was +able to navigate again. He pulled free from Shann's grip, +lumbering across the sand to the kill.</p> + +<p>Someone else was crossing that strip of beach. Passing the +Wyvern as if he did not see them, Thorvald came directly to +Shann. A few seconds later he had the torn arm stretched +across his own bent knee, examining the still bleeding hurt.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span></p> + +<p>"That's a nasty one," he commented.</p> + +<p>Shann heard the words and they made sense, but the instability +of his surroundings was increasing, while Thorvald's +handling sent sharp stabs of pain up his arm and +somehow into his head, where they ended in red bursts to +cloud his sight.</p> + +<p>Out of the reddish mist which had fogged most of the landscape +there emerged a single object, a round white disk. And +in Shann's clouded mind a well-rooted apprehension stirred. +He struck out with his one hand, and through luck connected. +The disk flew out of sight. His vision cleared enough +so he could sight the Wyvern who had been leaning over +Thorvald's shoulder centering her weird weapon on him. Making +a great effort, Shann got out the words, words which he +also shaped in his mind as he said them aloud: "You're not +taking me over—again!"</p> + +<p>There was no emotion to be read on that jewel-banded +face or in her unblinking eyes. He caught at Thorvald, determined +to get across his warning.</p> + +<p>"Don't let them use those disks on us!"</p> + +<p>"I'll do my best."</p> + +<p>Only the haze had taken Thorvald again. Did one of the +Wyverns have a disk focused on them? Were they being +pulled into one of those blank periods, to awaken as prisoners +once more—say, in the cavern of the veil? The Terran fought +with every ounce of will power to escape unconsciousness, +but he failed.</p> + +<p>This time he did not awaken half-drowning in an underground +stream or facing a green mist. And there was an +ache in his arm which was somehow reassuring with the very +insistence of pain. Before opening his eyes, his fingers crossed +the smooth slick of a bandage there, went on to investigate +by touch a sleep mat such as he had found in the cavern +structure. Was he back in that web of rooms and corridors?</p> + +<p>Shann delayed opening his eyes until a kind of shame +drove him to it. He first saw an oval opening almost the +length of his body as it was stretched only a foot of two below<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> +the sill of that window. And through its transparent surface +came the golden light of the sun—no green mist, no crystals +mocking the stars.</p> + +<p>The room in which he lay was small with smooth walls, +much like that in which he had been imprisoned on the island. +And there were no other furnishings save the mat on which +he rested. Over him was a light cover netted of fibers resembling +yarn, with feathers knotted into it to provide a downy +upper surface. His clothing was gone, but the single covering +was too warm and he pushed it away from his shoulders and +chest as he wriggled up to see the view beyond the window.</p> + +<p>His torn arm came into full view. From wrist to elbow it +was encased in an opaque skin sheath, unlike any bandage of +his own world. Surely that had not come out of any Survey +aid pack. Shann gazed toward the window, but beyond lay +only a reach of sky. Except for a lemon cloud or two ruffled +high above the horizon, nothing broke that soft amber curtain. +He might be quartered in a tower well above ground +level, which did not match his former experience with Wyvern +accommodations.</p> + +<p>"Back with us again?" Thorvald, one hand lifting a door +panel, came in. His ragged uniform was gone, and he wore +only breeches of a sleek green material and his own scuffed-and-battered +boots.</p> + +<p>Shann settled back on the mat. "Where are we?"</p> + +<p>"I think you might term this the capital city," Thorvald answered. +"In relation to the mainland, we're on an island +well out to sea—westward."</p> + +<p>"How did we get here?" That climb in the slab, the stream +underground.... Had it been an interior river running under +the bed of the sea? But Shann was not prepared for the +other's reply.</p> + +<p>"By wishing."</p> + +<p>"By <i>what</i>?"</p> + +<p>Thorvald nodded, his expression serious. "They wished us +here. Listen, Lantee, when you jumped down to mix it with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> +that fork-tailed thing, did you wish you had the wolverines +with you?"</p> + +<p>Shann thought back; his memories of what had <ins class="corr" title="Original reads 'occured'">occurred</ins> +before that battle were none too clear. But, yes, he had +wished Taggi and Togi present at that moment to distract +the enraged beast.</p> + +<p>"You mean I wished them?" The whole idea was probably +a part of the Wyvern jargon of dreaming and he added, +"Or did I just dream everything?" There was the bandage +on his arm, the soreness under that bandage. But also there +had been Logally's lash brand back in the cavern, which had +bitten into his flesh with the pain of a real blow.</p> + +<p>"No, you weren't dreaming. You happened to be tuned +in one of those handy little gadgets our lady friends here +use. And, so tuned in, your desire for the wolverines being +pretty powerful just then, they came."</p> + +<p>Shann grimaced. This was unbelievable. Yet there were +his meetings with Logally and Trav. How could anyone rationally +explain them? And how had he, in the beginning, +been jumped from the top of the cliff on the island of his +marooning into the midst of an underground flood without +any conscious memory of an intermediate journey?</p> + +<p>"How does it work?" he asked simply.</p> + +<p>Thorvald laughed. "You tell me. They have these disks, +one to a Wyvern, and they control forces with them. Back +there on the beach we interrupted a class in such control; +they were the novices learning their trade. We've stumbled on +something here which can't be defined or understood by any +of our previous standards of comparison. It's frankly magic, +judged by our terms."</p> + +<p>"Are we prisoners?" Shann wanted to know.</p> + +<p>"Ask me something I'm sure of. I've been free to come +and go within limits. No one's exhibited any signs of hostility; +most of them simply ignore me. I've had two interviews, via +this mind-reading act of theirs, with their rulers, or elders, +or chief sorceresses—all three titles seem to apply. They ask +questions, I answer as best I can, but sometimes we appear<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> +to have no common meeting ground. Then I ask some questions, +they evade gracefully, or reply in a kind of unintelligible +double-talk, and that's as far as our communication has progressed +so far."</p> + +<p>"Taggi and Togi?"</p> + +<p>"Have a run of their own and as far as I can tell are +better satisfied with life than I am. Oddly enough, they respond +more quickly and more intelligently to orders. Perhaps +this business of being shunted around by the disks has +conditioned them in some way."</p> + +<p>"What about these Wyverns? Are they all female?"</p> + +<p>"No, but their tribal system is strictly matriarchal, which +follows a pattern even Terra once knew: the fertile earth +mother and her priestesses, who became the witches when +the gods overruled the goddesses. The males are few in +number and lack the power to activate the disks. In fact," +Thorvald laughed ruefully, "one gathers that in this civilization +our opposite numbers have, more or less, the status +of pets at the best, and necessary evils at the worst. Which +put <i>us</i> at a disadvantage from the start."</p> + +<p>"You think that they won't take us seriously because we +are males?"</p> + +<p>"Might just work out that way. I've tried to get through +to them about danger from the Throgs, telling them what it +would mean to them to have the beetle-heads settle in here +for good. They just brush aside the whole idea."</p> + +<p>"Can't you argue that the Throgs are males, too? Or +aren't they?"</p> + +<p>The Survey officer shook his head. "That's a point no +human can answer. We've been sparring with Throgs for +years and there have been libraries of reports written about +them and their behavior patterns, all of which add up to +about two paragraphs of proven facts and hundreds of surmises +beginning with the probable and skimming out into +the wild fantastic. You can claim anything about a Throg +and find a lot of very intelligent souls ready to believe you. +But whether those beetle-heads squatting over on the mainland<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> +are able to answer to 'he,' 'she,' or 'it,' your solution is +just as good as mine. We've always considered the ones +we fight to be males, but they might just as possibly be amazons. +Frankly, these Wyverns couldn't care less either; at +least that's the impression they give."</p> + +<p>"But anyway," Shann observed, "it hasn't come to 'we're +all girls together' either."</p> + +<p>Thorvald laughed again. "Not so you can notice. We're +not the only unwilling visitor in the vicinity."</p> + +<p>Shann sat up. "A Throg?"</p> + +<p>"A something. Non-Warlockian, or non-Wyvern. And perhaps +trouble for us."</p> + +<p>"You haven't seen this other?"</p> + +<p>Thorvald sat down cross-legged. The amber light from the +window made red-gold of his hair, added ruddiness to his +less-gaunt features.</p> + +<p>"No, I haven't. As far as I can tell, the stranger's not right +here. I caught stray thought beams twice—surprise expressed +by newly arrived Wyverns who met me and apparently expected +to be fronted by something quite physically different."</p> + +<p>"Another Terran scout?"</p> + +<p>"No. I imagine that to the Wyverns we must look a lot +alike. Just as we couldn't tell one of them from her sister if +their body patterns didn't differ. Discovered one thing about +those patterns—the more intricate they run, the higher the +'power,' not of the immediate wearer, but of her ancestors. +They're marked when they qualify for their disk and presented +with the rating of the greatest witch in their family line +as an inducement to live up to those deeds and surpass them +if possible. Quite a bit of logic to that. Given the right conditioning, +such a system might even work in our service.</p> + +<p>That nugget of information was the stuff from which Survey +reports were made. But at the moment the information concerning +the other captive was of more value to Shann. He +steadied his body against the wall with his good hand and +got to his feet. Thorvald watched him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I take it you have visions of action. Tell me, Lantee, why +<i>did</i> you take that header off the cliff to mix it with fork-tail?"</p> + +<p>Shann wondered himself. He had no reason for that impulsive +act. "I don't know——"</p> + +<p>"Chivalry? Fair Wyvern in distress?" the other prodded. +"Or did the back lash from one of those disks draw you +in?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know——"</p> + +<p>"And why did you use your knife instead of your stunner?"</p> + +<p>Shann was startled. For the first time he realized that he +had fronted the greatest native menace they had discovered +on Warlock with the more primitive of his weapons. Why +had he not tried the stunner on the beast? He had just never +thought of it when he had taken that leap into the role of +dragon slayer.</p> + +<p>"Not that it would have done you any good to try the ray; +it has no effect on fork-tail."</p> + +<p>"You tried it?"</p> + +<p>"Naturally. But you didn't know that, or did you pick +up that information earlier?"</p> + +<p>"No," answer Shann slowly. "No, I don't know why I used +the knife. The stunner would have been more natural." +Suddenly he shivered, and the face he turned to Thorvald +was very sober.</p> + +<p>"How much do they control us?" he asked, his voice +dropping to a half whisper as if the walls about them could +pick up those words and relay them to other ears. "What +can they do?"</p> + +<p>"A good question." Thorvald lost his light tone. "Yes, +what can they feed into our minds without our knowing? +Perhaps those disks are only window dressing, and they can +work without them. A great deal will depend upon the impression +we can make on these witches." He began to smile +again, more wryly. "The name we gave this planet is certainly +a misnomer. A warlock is a male sorcerer, not a witch."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span></p> + +<p>"And what are the chances of our becoming warlocks ourselves?"</p> + +<p>Again Thorvald's smile faded, but he gave a curt little nod +to Shann as if approving that thought. "That is something +we are going to look into, and now! If we have to convince +some stubborn females, as well as fight Throgs, well"—he +shrugged—"we'll have a busy, busy, time."</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="THIRD_PRISONER" id="THIRD_PRISONER"></a>16. THIRD PRISONER</h2> + + +<p>"Well, it works as good as new." Shann held his hand and +arm out into the full path of the sun. He had just stripped off +the skin-case bandage, to show the raw seam of a half-healed +scar, but as he flexed muscles, bent and twisted his +arm, there was only a small residue of soreness left.</p> + +<p>"Now what, or where?" he asked Thorvald with some +eagerness. Several days' imprisonment in this room had +made him impatient for the outer world again. Like the +officer, he now wore breeches of the green fabric, the only +material known to the Wyverns, and his own badly worn +boots. Oddly enough, the Terrans' weapons, stunner and +knife, had been left to them, a point which made them uneasy, +since it suggested that the Wyverns believed they had +nothing to fear from clumsy alien arms.</p> + +<p>"Your guess is as good as mine," Thorvald answered that +double question. "But it is you they want to see; they insisted +upon it, rather emphatically in fact."</p> + +<p>The Wyvern city existed as a series of cell-like hollows +in the interior of a rock-walled island. Outside there had +been no tampering with the natural rugged features of the +escarpment, and within, the silence was almost complete. +For all the Terrans could learn, the population of the stone-walled +hive might have been several thousand, or just the +handful that they had seen with their own eyes along the +passages which had been declared open territory for them.</p> + +<p>Shann half expected to find again a skull-walled chamber +where witches tossed colored sticks to determine his +future. But he came with Thorvald into an oval room in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> +which most of the outer wall was a window. And seeing +what lay framed in that, Shann halted, again uncertain as +to whether he actually saw that, or whether he was willed +into visualizing a scene by the choice of his hostesses.</p> + +<p>They were lower now than the room in which he had +nursed his wound, not far above water level. And this window +faced the sea. Across a stretch of green water was his +red-purple skull, the waves lapping its lower jaw, spreading +their foam in between the gaping rock-fringe which formed +its teeth. And from the eye hollows flapped the clak-claks +of the sea coast, coming and going as if they carried to some +imprisoned brain within that giant bone case messages +from the outer world.</p> + +<p>"My dream——" Shann said.</p> + +<p>"Your dream." Thorvald had not echoed that; the answer +had come in his brain.</p> + +<p>Shann turned his head and surveyed the Wyvern awaiting +them with a concentration which was close to the rudeness +of an outright stare, a stare which held no friendship. +For by her skin patterns he knew her for the one who had +led that triumvir who had sent him into the cavern of the +mist. And with her was the younger witch he had trapped +on the night that all this baffling action had begun.</p> + +<p>"We meet again," he said slowly. "To what purpose?"</p> + +<p>"To our purpose ... and yours——"</p> + +<p>"I do not doubt that it is to yours." The Terran's thoughts +fell easily now into a formal pattern he would not have used +with one of his own kind. "But I do not expect any good to +me...."</p> + +<p>There was no readable expression on her face; he did +not expect to see any. But in their uneven mind touch he +caught a fleeting suggestion of bewilderment on her part, +as if she found his mental processes as hard to understand +as a puzzle with few leading clues.</p> + +<p>"We mean you no ill, star voyager. You are far more than +we first thought you, for you have dreamed false and have +known. Now dream true, and know it also."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yet," he challenged, "you would set me a task without +my consent."</p> + +<p>"We have a task for you, but already it was set in the +pattern of your true dreaming. And we do not set such patterns, +star man; that is done by the Greatest Power of all. +Each lives within her appointed pattern from the First +Awakening to the Final Dream. So we do not ask of you any +more than that which is already laid for your doing."</p> + +<p>She arose with that languid grace which was a part of +their delicate jeweled bodies and came to stand beside him, +a child in size, making his Terran flesh and bones awkward, +clodlike in contrast. She stretched out her four-digit hand, +her slender arm ringed with gemmed circles and bands, +measuring it beside his own, bearing that livid scar.</p> + +<p>"We are different, star man, yet still are we both dreamers. +And dreams hold power. Your dreams brought you across +the dark which lies between sun and distant sun. Our dreams +carry us on even stranger roads. And yonder"—one of her +fingers stiffened to a point, indicating the skull—"there is +another who dreams with power, a power which will destroy +us all unless the pattern is broken speedily."</p> + +<p>"And I must go to seek this dreamer?" His vision of climbing +through that nose hole was to be realized then.</p> + +<p>"You go."</p> + +<p>Thorvald stirred and the Wyvern turned her head to him. +"Alone," she added. "For this is your dream only, as it has +been from the beginning. There is for each his own dream, +and another cannot walk through it to alter the pattern, +even to save a life."</p> + +<p>Shann grinned crookedly, without humor. "It seems that +I'm elected," he said as much to himself as to Thorvald. +"But what do I do with this other dreamer?"</p> + +<p>"What your pattern moves you to do. Save that you do +not slay him——"</p> + +<p>"Throg!" Thorvald started forward. "You can't just walk +in on a Throg barehanded and be bound by orders such as +that!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span></p> + +<p>The Wyvern must have caught the sense of that vocal +protest, for her communication touched them both. "We +cannot deal with that one as his mind is closed to us. Yet +he is an elder among his kind and his people have been +searching land and sea for him since his air rider broke upon +the rocks and he entered into hiding over there. Make +your peace with him if you can, and also take him hence, +for his dreams are not ours, and he brings confusion to the +Reachers when they retire to run the Trails of Seeking."</p> + +<p>"Must be an important Throg," Shann deduced. "They +could have an officer of the beetle-heads under wraps over +there. Could we use him to bargain with the rest?"</p> + +<p>Thorvald's frown did not lighten. "We've never been able +to establish any form of contact in the past, though our best +qualified minds, reinforced by training, have tried...."</p> + +<p>Shann did not take fire at that rather delicate estimate of +his own lack of preparation for the carrying out of diplomatic +negotiations with the enemy; he knew it was true. But +there was one thing he could try—if the Wyverns permitted.</p> + +<p>"Will you give a disk of power to this star man?" He +pointed to Thorvald. "For he is my Elder One and a Reacher +for Knowledge. With such a focus his dream could march +with mine when I go to the Throg, and perhaps that can +aid in my doing what I could not accomplish alone. For that +is the secret of <i>my</i> people, Elder One. We link our powers +together to make a shield against our enemies, a common tool +for the work we must do."</p> + +<p>"And so it is with us also, star voyager. We are not so +unlike as the foolish might think. We learned much of you +while you both wandered in the Place of False Dreams. But +our power disks are our own and can not be given to a +stranger while their owners live. However...." She turned +again with an abruptness foreign to the usual Wyvern manner +and faced the older Terran.</p> + +<p>The officer might have been obeying an unvoiced order +as he put out his hands and laid them palm to palm on those +she held up to him, bending his head so gray eyes met<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> +golden ones. The web of communication which had held all +three of them snapped. Thorvald and the Wyvern were +linked in a tight circuit which excluded Shann.</p> + +<p>Then the latter became conscious of movement beside +him. The younger Wyvern had joined him to watch the +clak-claks in their circling of the bare dome of the skull +island.</p> + +<p>"Why do they fly so?" Shann asked her.</p> + +<p>"Within they nest, care for their young. Also they hunt +the rock creatures that swarm in the lower darkness."</p> + +<p>"The rock creatures?" If the skull's interior was infested +by some other native fauna, he wanted to know it.</p> + +<p>By some method of her own the young Wyvern conveyed +a strong impression of revulsion, which was her personal +reaction to the "rock creatures."</p> + +<p>"Yet you imprison the Throg there——" he remarked.</p> + +<p>"Not so!" Her denial was instantaneous and vehement. +"The other worlder fled into that place in spite of our calling. +There he stays in hiding. Once we drew him out to the +sea, but he broke the power and fled inside again."</p> + +<p>"Broke free—" Shann pounced upon that. "From disk control?"</p> + +<p>"But surely." Her reply held something of wonder. "Why +do you ask, star voyager? Did you not also break free from +the power of the disk when I led you by the underground +ways, awaking in the river? Do you then rate this other one +as less than your own breed that you think him incapable +of the same action?"</p> + +<p>"Of Throgs I know as much as this...." He held up his +hand, measuring off a fraction of space between thumb and +forefinger.</p> + +<p>"Yet you knew them before you came to this world."</p> + +<p>"My people have known them for long. We have met and +fought many times among the stars."</p> + +<p>"And never have you talked mind to mind?"</p> + +<p>"Never. We have sought for that, but there has been no +communication between us, neither of mind nor of voice."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span></p> + +<p>"This one you name Throg is truly not as you," she assented. +"And we are not as you, being alien and female. +Yet, star man, you and I have shared a dream."</p> + +<p>Shann stared at her, startled, not so much by what she +said as the human shading of those words in his mind. Or +had that also been illusion?</p> + +<p>"In the veil ...that creature which came to you on wings +when you remembered that. A good dream, though it came +out of the past and so was false in the present. But I have +gathered it into my own store: such a fine dream, one that +you have cherished."</p> + +<p>"Trav was to be cherished," he agreed soberly. "I found +her in a broken sleep cage at a spaceport when I was a +child. We were both cold and hungry, alone and hurt. So +I stole and was glad that I stole Trav. For a little space we +both were very happy...." Forcibly he stifled memory.</p> + +<p>"So, though we are unlike in body and in mind, yet we +find beauty together if only in a dream. Therefore, between +your people and mine there can <i>be</i> a common speech. And +I may show you my dream store for your enjoyment, star +voyager."</p> + +<p>A flickering of pictures, some weird, some beautiful, all +a little distorted—not only by haste, but also by the haze of +alienness which was a part of her memory pattern—crossed +Shann's mind.</p> + +<p>"Such a sharing would be a rich feast," he agreed.</p> + +<p>"All right!" Those crisp words in his own tongue brought +Shann away from the window to Thorvald. The Survey officer +was no longer locked hand to hand with the Wyvern +witch, but his features were alive with a new eagerness.</p> + +<p>"We are going to try your idea, Lantee. They'll provide +me with a new, unmarked disk, show me how to use it. And +I'll do what I can to back you with it. But they insist that +you go today."</p> + +<p>"What do they really want me to do? Just <ins class="corr" title="Original reads 'route'">rout</ins> out that +Throg? Or try to talk him into being a go-between with his +people? That <i>does</i> come under the heading of dreaming!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span></p> + +<p>"They want him out of there, back with his own kind if +possible. Apparently he's a disruptive influence for them; +he causes some kind of a mental foul up which interferes +drastically with their 'power.' They haven't been able to get +him to make any contact with them. This Elder One is firm +about your being the one ordained for the job, and that you'll +know what action to take when you get there."</p> + +<p>"Must have thrown the sticks for me again," Shann commented.</p> + +<p>"Well, they've definitely picked you to smoke out the +Throg, and they can't be talked into changing their minds +about that."</p> + +<p>"I'll be the smoked one if he has a blaster."</p> + +<p>"They say he's unarmed——"</p> + +<p>"What do they know about our weapons or a Throg's?"</p> + +<p>"The other one has no arms." Wyvern words in his mind +again. "This fact gives him great fear. That which he has +depended upon is broken. And since he has no weapon, he +is shut into a prison of his own terrors."</p> + +<p>But an adult Throg, even unarmed, was not to be considered +easy meat, Shann thought. Armored with horny +skin, armed with claws and those crushing mandibles of +the beetle mouth ... a third again as tall as he himself was. +No, even unarmed, the Throg had to be considered a menace.</p> + +<p>Shann was still thinking along that line as he splashed +through the surf which broke about the lower jaw of the +skull island, climbed up one of the pointed rocks which +masqueraded as a tooth, and reached for a higher hold to +lead him to the nose slit, the gateway to the alien's hiding +place.</p> + +<p>The clak-claks screamed and dived about him, highly resentful +of his intrusion. And when they grew so bold as to +buffet him with their wings, threaten him with their tearing +beaks, he was glad to reach the broken rock edging his +chosen door and duck inside. Once there, Shann looked +back. There was no sighting the cliff window where Thorvald<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> +stood, nor was he aware in any way of mental contact +with the Survey officer; their hope of such a linkage might +be futile.</p> + +<p>Shann was reluctant to venture farther. His eyes had sufficiently +adjusted to the limited supply of light, and now the +Terran brought out the one aid the Wyverns had granted +him, a green crystal such as those which had played the <ins class="corr" title="Original reads 'roll'">role</ins> +of stars on the cavern roof. He clipped its simple loop setting +to the front of his belt, leaving his hands free. Then, +having filled his lungs for the last time with clean, sea-washed +air, he started into the dome of the skull.</p> + +<p>There was a fetid thickness to this air only a few feet +away from the outer world. The odor of clak-clak droppings +and refuse from their nests was strong, but there was an +added staleness, as if no breeze ever scooped out the old +atmosphere to replace it with new. Fragile bones crunched +under Shann's boots, but as he drew away from the entrance, +the pale glow of the crystal increased its radiance, emitting +a light not unlike that of the phosphorescent bushes, so +that he was not swallowed up by dark.</p> + +<p>The cave behind the nose hole narrowed quickly into +a cleft, a narrow cleft which pierced into the bowl of the +skull. Shann proceeded with caution, pausing every few +steps. There came a murmur rising now and again to a +shriek, issuing, he guessed, from the clak-clak rookery above. +And the pound of sea waves was also a vibration carrying +through the rock. He was listening for something else, at the +same time testing the ill-smelling air for that betraying +muskiness which spelled Throg.</p> + +<p>When a twist in the narrow passage cut off the splotch +of daylight, Shann drew his stunner. The strongest bolt from +that could not jolt a Throg into complete paralysis, but it +would slow up any attack.</p> + +<p>Red—pinpoints of red—were edging a break in the rock +wall. They were gone in a flash. Eyes? Perhaps of the rock +dwellers which the Wyverns hated? More red dots, farther +ahead. Shann listened for a sound he could identify.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span></p> + +<p>But smell came before sound. That trace of effluvia which +in force could sicken a Terran, was his guide. The cleft +ended in a space to which the limited gleam of the crystal +could not provide a far wall. But that faint light did show +him his quarry.</p> + +<p>The Throg was not on his feet, ready for trouble, but +hunched close to the wall. And the alien did not move at +Shann's coming. Did the beetle-head sight him? Shann wondered. +He moved cautiously. And the round head, with its +bulbous eyes, turned a fraction; the mandibles about the +the ugly mouth opening quivered. Yes, the Throg could +see him.</p> + +<p>But still the alien made no move to rise out of his crouch, +to come at the Terran. Then Shann saw the fall of rock, the +stone which pinned a double-kneed leg to the floor. And in +a circle about the prisoner were the small, crushed, furred +things which had come to prey on the helpless to be slain +themselves by the well-aimed stones which were the Throg's +only weapons of defense.</p> + +<p>Shann sheathed his stunner. It was plain the Throg was +helpless and could not reach him. He tried to concentrate +mentally on a picture of the scene before him, hoping that +Thorvald or one of the Wyverns could pick it up. There +was no answer, no direction. Choice of action remained +solely his.</p> + +<p>The Terran made the oldest friendly gesture of his kind; +his empty hands held up, palm out. There was no answering +move from the Throg. Neither of the other's upper limbs +stirred, their claws still gripping the small rocks in readiness +for throwing. All Shann's knowledge of the alien's history +argued against an unarmed advance. The Throg's marksmanship, +as borne out by the circle of small bodies, was +excellent. And one of those rocks might well thud against +his own head, with fatal results. Yet he had been sent there +to get the Throg free and out of Wyvern territory.</p> + +<p>So rank was the beetle smell of the other that Shann +coughed. What he needed now was the aid of the wolverines,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> +a diversion to keep the alien busy. But this time there +was no disk working to produce Taggi and Togi out of thin +air. And he could not continue to just stand there staring at +the Throg. There remained the stunner. Life on the +Dumps tended to make a man a fast draw, a matter of survival +for the fastest and most accurate marksman. And now +one of Shann's hands swept down with a speed which, learned +early, was never really to be forgotten.</p> + +<p>He had the rod out and was spraying on tight beam straight +at the Throg's head before the first stone struck his shoulder +and his weapon fell from a numbed hand. But a second +stone tumbled out of the Throg's claw. The alien tried to +reach for it, his movements slow, uncertain.</p> + +<p>Shann, his arm dangling, went in fast, bracing his good +shoulder against the boulder which pinned the Throg. The +alien aimed a blow at the Terran's head, but again so slowly +Shann had no difficulty in evading it. The boulder gave, +rolled, and <ins class="corr" title="Original reads 'Shanned'">Shann</ins> cleared out of range, back to the opening +of the cleft, pausing only to scoop up his stunner.</p> + +<p>For a long moment the Throg made no move; his dazed +wits must have been working at very slow speed. Then the +alien heaved up his body to stand erect, favoring the leg +which had been trapped. Shann tensed, waiting for a rush. +What now? Would the Throg refuse to move? If so, what +could he do about it?</p> + +<p>With the impact of a blow, the message Shann had hoped +for struck into his mind. But his initial joy at that contact +was wiped out with the same speed.</p> + +<p>"Throg ship ... overhead."</p> + +<p>The Throg stood away from the wall, limped out, heading +for Shann, or perhaps only the cleft in which he stood. +Swinging the stunner awkwardly in his left hand, the Terran +retreated, mentally trying to contact Thorvald once +more. There was no answer. He was well up into the cleft, +moving crabwise, unwilling to turn his back on the Throg. +The alien was coming as steadily as his injured limb would +allow, trying for the exit to the outer world.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span></p> + +<p>A Throg ship overhead.... Had the castaway somehow +managed to call his own kind? And what if he, Shann Lantee, +were to be trapped between the alien and a landing +party from the flyer? He did not expect any assistance from +the Wyverns, and what could Thorvald possibly do? From +behind him, at the entrance of the nose slit, he heard a sound—a +sound which was neither the scolding of a clak-clak nor +the eternal growl of the sea.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="THROG_JUSTICE" id="THROG_JUSTICE"></a>17. THROG JUSTICE</h2> + + +<p>The musty stench was so strong that Shann could no longer +fight the demands of his outraged stomach. He rolled on his +side, retching violently until the sour smell of his illness +battled the foul odor of the ship. His memories of how he +had come into this place were vague; his body was a mass +of dull pain, as if he had been scorched. Scorched! Had the +Throgs used one of their energy whips to subdue him? The +last clear thing he could recall was that slow withdrawal +down the cleft inside the skull rock, the Throg not too far +away—the sound from the entrance.</p> + +<p>A Throg prisoner! Through the pain and the sickness the +horror of that bit doubly deep. Terrans did not fall alive into +Throg hands, not if they had the means of ending their existence +within reach. But his hands and arms were caught +behind him in an unbreakable lock, some gadget not unlike +the Terran force bar used to restrain criminals, he decided +groggily.</p> + +<p>The cubby in which he lay was black-dark. But the quivering +of the deck and the bulkheads about him told Shann +that the ship was in flight. And there could be but two destinations, +either the camp where the Throg force had taken +over the Terran installations or the mother ship of the raiders. +If Thorvald's earlier surmise was true and the aliens +were hunting a Terran to talk in the transport, then they +were heading for the camp.</p> + +<p>And because a man who still lives and who is not yet +broken can also hope, Shann began to think ahead to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> +camp—the camp and a faint, thin chance of escape. For on +the surface of Warlock there was a thin chance; in the +mother ship of the Throgs none at all.</p> + +<p>Thorvald—and the Wyverns! Could he hope for any help +from them? Shann closed his eyes against the thick darkness +and tried to reach out to touch, somewhere, Thorvald with +his disk—or perhaps the Wyvern who had talked of Trav +and shared dreams. Shann focused his thoughts on the young +Wyvern witch, visualizing with all the detail he could summon +out of memory the brilliant patterns about her slender +arms, her thin, fragile wrists, those other designs overlaying +her features. He could see her in his mind, but she was only +a puppet, without life, certainly without power.</p> + +<p>Thorvald.... Now Shann fought to build a mental picture +of the Survey officer, making his stand at that window, +grasping his disk, with the sun bringing gold to his hair and +showing the bronze of his skin. Those gray eyes which could +be ice, that jaw with the tight set of a trap upon occasion....</p> + +<p>And Shann made contact! He touched something, a flickering +like a badly tuned tri-dee—far more fuzzy than the +mind pictures the Wyvern had paraded for him. But he had +touched! And Thorvald, too, had been aware of his contact.</p> + +<p>Shann fought to find that thread of awareness again. Patiently +he once more created his vision of Thorvald, adding +every detail he could recall, small things about the other +which he had not known that he had noticed—the tiny arrow-shaped +scar near the base of the officer's throat, the +way his growing hair curled at the ends, the look of one +eyebrow slanting abruptly toward his hairline when he was +dubious about something. Shann strove to make a figure as +vividly as Logally and Trav had been in the mist of the illusion.</p> + +<p>"... where?"</p> + +<p>This time Shann was prepared; he did not let that mind +image dissolve in his excitement at recapturing the link.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> +"Throg ship," he said the words aloud, over and over, but +still he held to his picture of Thorvald.</p> + +<p>"... will...."</p> + +<p>Only that one word! The thread between them snapped +again. Only then did Shann become conscious of a change +in the ship's vibration. Were they setting down? And where? +Let it be at the camp! It must be the camp!</p> + +<p>There was no jar at that landing, just that one second +the vibration told him the ship was alive and air-borne, and +the next a dead quiet testified that they had landed. Shann, +his sore body stiff with tension, waited for the next move +on the part of his captors.</p> + +<p>He continued to lie in the dark, still queasy from the +stench of the cell, too keyed up to try to reach Thorvald. +There was a dull grating over his head, and he looked up +eagerly—to be blinded by a strong beam of light. Claws +hooked painfully under his arms and he was manhandled +up and out, dragged along a short passage and pitched free +of the ship, falling hard upon trodden earth and rolling +over gasping as the seared skin of his body was rasped and +abraded.</p> + +<p>The Terran lay face up now, and as his eyes adjusted +to the light, he saw a ring of Throg heads blotting out the +sky as they inspected their catch impassively. The mouth +mandibles of one moved with a faint clicking. Again claws +fastened in his armpits, brought Shann to his feet, holding +him erect.</p> + +<p>Then the Throg who had given that order moved closer. +His hand-claws clasped a small metal plate surmounted by +a hoop of thin wire over which was stretched a web of +threads glistening in the sun. Holding that hoop on a level +with his mouth, the alien clicked his mandibles, and those +sounds became barely distinguishable basic galactic words.</p> + +<p>"You Throg meat!"</p> + +<p>For a moment Shann wondered if the alien meant that +statement literally. Or was it a conventional expression for +a prisoner among their land.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Do as told!"</p> + +<p>That was clear enough, and for the moment the Terran +did not see that he had any choice in the matter. But Shann +refused to make any sign of agreement to either of those +two limited statements. Perhaps the beetle-heads did not +expect any. The alien who had pulled him to his feet continued +to hold him erect, but the attention of the Throg with +the translator switched elsewhere.</p> + +<p>From the alien ship emerged a second party. The Throg +in their midst was unarmed and limping. Although to Terran +eyes one alien was the exact counterpart of the other, +Shann thought that this one was the prisoner in the skull +cave. Yet the indications now suggested that he had only +changed one captivity for another and was in disgrace +among his kind. Why?</p> + +<p>The Throg limped up to front the leader with the translator, +and his guards fell back. Again mandibles clicked, +were answered, though the sense of that exchange eluded +Shann. At one point in the report—if report it was—he himself +appeared to be under discussion, for the injured Throg +waved a hand-claw in the Terran's direction. But the end +to the conference came quickly enough and in a manner +which Shann found shocking.</p> + +<p>Two of the guards stepped forward, caught at the injured +Throg's arms and drew him away, leading him out +into a space beyond the grounded ship. They dropped their +hold on him, returning at a trot. The officer clicked an order. +Blasters were unholstered, and the Throg in the field shriveled +under a vicious concentration of cross bolts. Shann gasped. +He certainly had no liking for Throgs, but this execution +carried overtones of a cold-blooded ferocity which transcended +anything he had known, even in the callous brutality +of the Dumps.</p> + +<p>Limp, and more than a little sick again, he watched the +Throg officer turn away. And a moment later he was forced +along in the other's wake to the domes of the once Terran +camp. Not just to the camp in general, he discovered a minute<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> +later, but to that structure which had housed the com +unit linking them with ships cruising the solar lanes and with +the patrol. So Thorvald had been right; they needed a Terran +to broadcast—to cover their tracks here and lay a trap +for the transport.</p> + +<p>Shann had no idea how much time he had passed among +the Wyverns; the transport with its load of unsuspecting +settlers might already be in the system of Circe, plotting a +landing orbit around Warlock, broadcasting her recognition +signal and a demand for a beam to ride her in. Only, this +time the Throgs were out of luck. They had picked up one +prisoner who could not help them, even if he wanted to do +so. The mysteries of the highly technical installations in this +dome were just that to Shann Lantee—complete mysteries. +He had not the slightest idea of how to activate the machines, +let alone broadcast in the proper code.</p> + +<p>A cold spot of terror gathered in his middle, spreading +outward through his smarting body. For he was certain +that the Throgs would not believe that. They would consider +his protestations of ignorance as a stubborn refusal to +co-operate. And what would happen to him then would be +beyond human endurance. Could he bluff—play for time? +But what would that time buy him except to delay the inevitable? +In the end, that small hope based on his momentary +contact with Thorvald made him decide to try that +bluff.</p> + +<p>There had been changes in the com dome since the capture +of the cap. A squat box on the floor sprouted a collection of +tubes from its upper surface. Perhaps that was some Throg +equivalent of Terran equipment in place on the wide table +facing the door.</p> + +<p>The Throg leader clicked into his translator: "You call +ship!"</p> + +<p>Shann was thrust down into the operator's chair, his +bound arms still twisted behind him so that he had to lean +forward to keep on the seat at all. Then the Throg who<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> +had pushed him there, roughly forced a set of com earphones +and speech mike onto his head.</p> + +<p>"Call ship!" clicked the alien officer.</p> + +<p>So time must be running out. Now was the moment to +bluff. Shann shook his head, hoping that the gesture of negation +was common to both their species.</p> + +<p>"I don't know the code," he said aloud.</p> + +<p>The Throg's bulbous eyes gazed, at his moving lips. Then +the translator was held before the Terran's mouth. Shann +repeated his words, heard them reissue as a series of clicks, +and waited. So much depended now on the reaction of the +beetle-head officer. Would he summarily apply pressure to +enforce his order, or would he realize that it was possible +that all Terrans did not know that code, and so he could +not produce in a captive's head any knowledge that had +never been there—with or without physical coercion?</p> + +<p>Apparently the latter logic prevailed for the present. The +Throg drew the translator back to his mandibles.</p> + +<p>"When ship call—you answer—make lip talk your words! +Say bad sickness here—need help. Code man dead—you +talk in his place. I listen. You say wrong, you die—you die +a long time. Hurt bad all that time——"</p> + +<p>Clear enough. So he had been able to buy a little time! +But how soon before the incoming ship would call? The +Throgs seemed to expect it. Shann licked his blistered lips. +He was sure that the Throg officer meant exactly what he +said in that last grisly threat. Only, would anyone—Throg +or human—live very long in this camp if Shann got his warning +through? The transport would have been accompanied +on the big jump by a patrol cruiser, especially now with +Throgs littering deep space the way they were in this sector. +Let Shann alert the ship, and the cruiser would know; +swift punitive action would be visited on the camp. Throgs +could begin to make their helpless prisoner regret his rashness; +then all of them would be blotted out together, prisoner +and captors alike, when the cruiser came in.</p> + +<p>If that was his last chance, he'd play it that way. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> +Throgs would kill him anyhow, he hadn't the least doubt +of that. They kept no long-term Terran prisoners and never +had. And at least he could take this nest of devil beetles +along with him. Not that the thought did anything to dampen +the fear which made him weak and dizzy. Shann Lantee +might be tough enough to fight his way out of the Dumps, +but to stand up and defy Throgs face-to-face like a video +hero was something else. He knew that he could not do any +spectacular act; if he could hold out to the end without +cracking he would be satisfied.</p> + +<p>Two more Throgs entered the dome. They stalked to +the far end of the table which held the com equipment, +and frequently pausing to consult a Terran work tape set in +a reader, they made adjustments to the spotter beam broadcaster. +They worked slowly but competently, testing each +circuit. Preparing to draw in the Terran transport, holding +the large ship until they had it helpless on the ground. The +Terran began to wonder how they proposed to take the +ship over once they did have it on planet.</p> + +<p>Transports were armed for ground fighting. Although they +rode in on a beam broadcast from a camp, they were prepared +for unpleasant surprises on a planet's surface; such +were certainly not unknown in the history of Survey. Which +meant that the Throgs had in turn some assault weapon +they believed superior, for they radiated confidence now. +But could they handle a patrol cruiser ready to fight?</p> + +<p>The Throg technicians made a last check of the beam, +reporting in clicks to the officer. The alien gave an order +to Shann's guard before following them out. A loop of wire +rope dropped over the Terran's head, tightened about his +chest, dragging him back against the chair until he grunted +with pain. Two more loops made him secure in a most uncomfortable +posture, and then he was left alone in the com +dome.</p> + +<p>An abortive struggle against the wire rope taught him +the folly of such an effort. He was in deep freeze as far +as any bodily movement was concerned. Shann closed his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> +eyes, settled to that same concentration he had labored to +acquire on the Throg ship. If there was any chance of the +Wyvern communication working again, here and now was +the time for it!</p> + +<p>Again he built his mental picture of Thorvald, as detailed +as he had made it in the Throg ship. And with that to the +forefront of his mind, Shann strove to pick up the thread +which could link them. Was the distance between this camp +and the seagirt city of the Wyverns too great? Did the +Throgs unconsciously dampen out that mental reaching as +the Wyverns had said they did when they had sent him to +free the captive in the skull?</p> + +<p>Drops gathered in the unkempt tight curls on his head, +trickled down to sting on his tender skin. He was bathed +in the moisture summoned by an effort as prolonged and +severe as if he labored physically under a hot sun at the +top speed of which his body was capable.</p> + +<p>Thorvald—</p> + +<p>Thorvald! But not standing by the window in the Wyvern +stronghold! Thorvald with the amethyst of heavy Warlockian +foliage at his back. So clear was the new picture that Shann +might have stood only a few feet away. Thorvald there, +with the wolverines at his side. And behind him sun glinted +on the gem-patterned skin of more than one Wyvern.</p> + +<p>"Where?"</p> + +<p>That demand from the Survey officer, curt, clear—so perfect +the word might have rung audibly through the dome.</p> + +<p>"The camp!" Shann hurled that back, frantic with fear +than once again their contact might fail.</p> + +<p>"They want me to call in the transport." He added that.</p> + +<p>"How soon?"</p> + +<p>"Don't know. They have the guide beam set. I'm to say +there's illness here; they know I can't code."</p> + +<p>All he could see now was Thorvald's face, intent, the +officer's eyes cold sparks of steel, bearing the impress of a +will as implacable as a Throg's. Shann added his own decision.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'll warn the ship off; they'll send in the patrol."</p> + +<p>There was no change in Thorvald's expression. "Hold +out as long as you can!"</p> + +<p>Cold enough, no promise of help, nothing on which to +build hope. Yet the fact that Thorvald was on the move, +away from the Wyvern city, meant something. And Shann +was sure that thick vegetation could be found only on the +mainland. Not only was Thorvald ashore, but there were +Wyverns with him. Could the officer have persuaded the +witches of Warlock to foresake their hands-off policy and +join him in an attack on the Throg camp? No promise, not +even a suggestion that the party Shann had envisioned was +moving in his direction. Yet somehow he believed that they +were.</p> + +<p>There was a sound from the doorway of the dome. Shann +opened his eyes. There were Throgs entering, one to go to +the guide beam, two heading for his chair. He closed his eyes +again in a last attempt, backed by every remaining ounce of +his energy and will.</p> + +<p>"Ship's in range. Throgs here."</p> + +<p>Thorvald's face, dimmer now, snapped out while a blow +on Shann's jaw rocked his head cruelly, made his ears sing, +his eyes water. He saw Throgs—Throgs only. And one held +the translator.</p> + +<p>"You talk!"</p> + +<p>A tri-jointed arm reached across his shoulder, triggered a +lever, pressed a button. The head set cramping his ear let +out a sudden growl of sound—the com was <ins class="corr" title="Original reads 'activited'">activated</ins>. A claw +jammed the mike closer to Shann's lips, but also slid in range +the webbed loop of the translator.</p> + +<p>Shann shook his head at the incoming rattle of code. The +Throg with the translator was holding the other head set close +to his own ear pit. And the claws of the guard came down on +Shann's shoulders in a cruel grip, a threat of future brutality.</p> + +<p>The rattle of code continued while Shann thought <ins class="corr" title="Original reads 'furiuosly'">furiously</ins>. +This was it! He had to give a warning, and then the aliens +would do to him just what the officer had threatened. Shann<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> +could not seem to think clearly. It was as if in his efforts to +contact Thorvald, he had exhausted some part of his brain, +so that now he was dazed just when he needed quick wits +the most!</p> + +<p>This whole scene had a weird unreality. He had seen its +like a thousand times on fiction tapes—the Terran hero menaced +by aliens intent on saving ... saving....</p> + +<p>Was it out of one of those fiction tapes he had devoured +in the past that Shann recalled that scrap of almost forgotten +information?</p> + +<p>The Terran began to speak into the mike, for there had +come a pause in the rattle of code. He used Terran, not basic, +and he shaped the words slowly.</p> + +<p>"Warlock calling—trouble—sickness here—com officer dead."</p> + +<p>He was interrupted by another burst of code. The claws +of his guard twisted into the naked flesh of his shoulders in +vicious warning.</p> + +<p>"Warlock calling—" he repeated. "Need help——"</p> + +<p>"Who are you?"</p> + +<p>The demand came in basic. On board the transport they +would have a list of every member of the Survey team.</p> + +<p>"Lantee." Shann drew a deep breath. He was so conscious +of those claws on his shoulders, of what would follow.</p> + +<p>"This is Mayday!" he said distinctly, hoping desperately +that someone in the control cabin of the ship now in orbit +would catch the true meaning of that ancient call of complete +disaster. "Mayday—beetles—over and out!"</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="STORMS_ENDING" id="STORMS_ENDING"></a>18. STORM'S ENDING</h2> + + +<p>Shann had no answer from the transport, only the continuing +hum of a contact still open between the dome and the control +cabin miles above Warlock. The Terran breathed slowly, +deeply, felt the claws of the Throg bite his flesh as his chest +expanded. Then, as if a knife slashed, the hum of that contact +was gone. He had time to know a small flash of triumph. +He had done it; he had aroused suspicion in the transport.</p> + +<p>When the Throg officer clicked to the alien manning the +landing beam, Shann's exultation grew. The <ins class="corr" title="Hyphenated in line with majority usage.">beetle-head</ins> must +have accepted that cut in communication as normal; he was +still expecting the Terran ship to drop neatly into his claws.</p> + +<p>But Shann's respite was to be very short, only timed by +a few breaths. The Throg at the riding beam was watching +the indicators. Now he reported to his superior, who swung +back to face the prisoner. Although Shann could read no expression +on the beetle's face, he did not need any clue to the +other's probable emotions. Knowing that his captive had somehow +tricked him, the alien would now proceed relentlessly to +put into effect the measures he had threatened.</p> + +<p>How long before the patrol cruiser would planet? That +crew was used to alarms, and their speed was three or four +times greater than that of the bulkier transports. If the Throgs +didn't scatter now, before they could be caught in one attack....</p> + +<p>The wire rope which held Shann clamped to the chair was +loosened, and he set his teeth against the pain of restored +circulation, This was nothing compared to what he faced; he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> +knew that. They jerked him to his feet, faced him toward +the outer door, and propelled him through it with a speed +and roughness indicative of their feelings.</p> + +<p>The hour was close to dusk and Shann glanced wistfully +at promising shadows, though he had given up hope of rescue +by now. If he could just get free of his guards, he could +at least give the beetle-heads a good run.</p> + +<p>He saw that the camp was deserted. There was no sign +about the domes that any Throgs sheltered there. In fact, +Shann saw no aliens at all except those who had come from +the com dome with him. Of course! The rest must be in ambush, +waiting for the transport to planet. What about the +Throg ship or ships? Those must have been hidden also. And +the only hiding place for them would be aloft. There was a +chance that the Throgs had so flung away their chance for +any quick retreat.</p> + +<p>Yes; the aliens could scatter over the countryside and so +escape the first blast from the cruiser. But they would simply +maroon themselves to be hunted down by patrol landing +parties who would comb the territory. The beetles could so +prolong their lives for a few hours, maybe a few days, but +they were really ended on that moment when the transport +cut communication. Shann was sure that the officer, at least, +understood that.</p> + +<p>The Terran was dragged away from the domes toward +the river down which he and Thorvald had once escaped. +Moving through the dusk in parallel lines, he caught sight of +other Throg squads, well armed, marching in order to suggest +that they were not yet alarmed. However, he had been +right about the ships—there were no flyers grounded on the +improvised field.</p> + +<p>Shann made himself as much of a burden as he could. At +the best, he could so delay the guards entrusted with his +safekeeping; at the worst, he could earn for himself a quick +ending by blaster which would be better than the one they +had for him. He went limp, falling forward into the trampled +grass. There was an exasperated click from the Throg who<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> +had been herding him, and the Terran tried not to flinch +from a sharp kick delivered by a clawed foot.</p> + +<p>Feigning unconsciousness, the Terran listened to the unintelligible +clicks exchanged by Throgs standing over him. +His future depended now on how deep lay the alien officer's +anger. If the beetle-head wanted to carry out his earlier +threats, he would have to order Shann's transportation by the +fleeing force. Otherwise his life might well end here and now.</p> + +<p>Claws hooked once more on Shann. He was boosted up +on the horny carapace of a guard, the bonds on his arms taken +off and his numbed hands brought forward, to be held by his +captor so that he lay helpless, a cloak over the other's hunched +shoulders.</p> + +<p>The ghost flares of bushes and plants blooming in the gathering +twilight gave a limited light to the scene. There was +no way of counting the number of Throgs on the move. But +Shann was sure that all the enemy ships must have been emptied +except for skeleton crews, and perhaps others had been +ferried in from their hidden base somewhere in Circe's system.</p> + +<p>He could only see a little from his position on the Throg's +back, but ahead a ripple of beetle bodies slipped over the +bank of the river cut. The aliens were working their way into +cover, fitting into the dapple shadows with a skill which argued +a long practice in such elusive maneuvers. Did they plan +to try to fight off a cruiser attack? That was pure madness. +Or, Shann wondered, did they intend to have the Terrans +met by one of their own major ships somewhere well above +the surface of Warlock?</p> + +<p>His bearer turned away from the stream cut, carrying +Shann out into that field which had first served the Terrans +as a landing strip, then offered the same service to the Throgs. +They passed two more parties of aliens on the move, manhandling +with them bulky objects the Terran could not identify. +Then he was dumped unceremoniously to the hard earth, +only to lie there a few seconds before he was flopped over on +a framework which grated unpleasantly against his raw<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> +shoulders, his wrists and ankles being made fast so that his +body was spread-eagled. There was a click of orders; the +frame was raised and dropped with a jarring movement into +a base, and he was held erect, once more facing the Throg +with the translator. This was it! Shann began to regret every +small chance he had had to end more cleanly. If he had attacked +one of the guards, even with his hands bound, he might +have flustered the Throg into retaliatory blaster fire.</p> + +<p>Fear made a thicker fog about him than the green mist +of the illusion. Only this was no illusion. Shann stared at the +Throg officer with sick eyes, knowing that no one ever quite +believes that a last evil will strike at him, that he had clung +to a hope which had no existence.</p> + +<p>"Lantee!"</p> + +<p>The call burst in his head with a painful force. His dazed +attention was outwardly on the alien with the translator, but +that inner demand had given him a shock.</p> + +<p>"Here! Thorvald? Where?"</p> + +<p>The other struck in again with an urgent demand singing +through Shann's brain.</p> + +<p>"Give us a fix point—away from camp but not too far. +Quick!"</p> + +<p>A fix point—what did the Survey officer mean? A fix point.... +For some reason Shann thought of the ledge on which +he had lain to watch the first Throg attack. And the picture +of it was etched on his mind as clearly as memory could paint +it.</p> + +<p>"Thorvald——" Again his voice and his mind call were echoes +of each other. But this time he had no answer. Had that demand +meant Thorvald and the Wyverns were moving in, +putting to use the strange distance-erasing power the witches +of Warlock could use by desire? But why had they not come +sooner? And what could they hope to accomplish against +the now scattered but certainly unbroken enemy forces? The +Wyverns had not been able to turn their power against one +injured Throg—by their own accounting—how could they possibly +cope with well-armed and alert aliens in the field?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You die—slow——" The Throg officer clicked, and the emotionless, +toneless translation was all the more daunting for +that lack of color. "Your people come—see——"</p> + +<p>So that was the reason they had brought him to the landing +field. He was to furnish a grisly warning to the crew of +the cruiser. However, there the Throgs were making a bad +mistake if they believed that his death by any ingenious method +could scare off Terran retaliation.</p> + +<p>"I die—you follow——" Shann tried to make that promise emphatic.</p> + +<p>Did the Throg officer expect the Terran to beg for his life +or a quick death? Again he made his threat—straight into +the web, hearing it split into clicks.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," the Throg returned. "But you die the first."</p> + +<p>"Get to it!" Shann's voice scaled up. He was close to the +ragged edge, and the last push toward the breaking point +had not been the Throg speech, but that message from Thorvald. +If the Survey officer was going to make any move in the +mottled dusk, it would have to be soon.</p> + +<p>Mottled dusk.... The Throgs had moved a little away +from him. Shann looked beyond them to the perimeter of +the cleared field, not really because he expected to see any +rescuers break from cover there. And when he did see a +change, Shann thought his own sight was at fault.</p> + +<p>Those splotches of waxy light which marked certain trees, +bushes, and scrubby ground-hugging plants were spreading, +running together in pools. And from those center cores of +concentrated glow, tendrils of mist lazily curled out, as a +many-armed creature of the sea might allow its appendages +to float in the water which supported it. Tendrils crossed, +met, and thickened. There was a growing river of eerie light +which spread, again resembling a sea wave licking out onto +the field. And where it touched, unlike the wave, it did not +retreat, but lapped on. Was he actually seeing that? Shann +could not be sure.</p> + +<p>Only the gray light continued to build, faster now, its speed +of advance matching its increase in bulk. Shann somehow connected<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> +it with the veil of illusion. If it was real, there was a +purpose behind it.</p> + +<p>There was an aroused clicking from the Throgs. A blaster +bolt cracked, its spiteful, sickly yellow slicing into the nearest +tongue of gray. But that luminous fog engulfed the blast +and was not dispelled. Shann forced his head around against +the support which held him. The mist crept across the field +from all quarters, walling them in.</p> + +<p>Running at the ungainly lope which was their best effort at +speed were half a dozen Throgs emerging from the river +section. Their attitude suggested panic-stricken flight, and +when one tripped on some unseen obstruction and went down—to +fall beneath a descending tongue of phosphorescence—he +uttered a strange high-pitched squeal, thin and faint, but +still a note of complete, mindless terror.</p> + +<p>The Throgs surrounding Shann were firing at the fog, first +with precision, then raggedly, as their bolts did nothing to +cut that opaque curtain drawing in about them. From inside +that mist came other sounds—noises, calls, and cries all alien +to him, and perhaps also to the Throgs. There were shapes +barely to be discerned through the swirls; perhaps some were +Throgs in flight. But certainly others were non-Throg in outline. +And the Terran was sure that at least three of those +shapes, all different, had been in pursuit of one fleeing Throg, +heading him off from that small open area still holding about +Shann.</p> + +<p>For the Throgs were being herded in from all sides—the +handful who had come from the river, the others who had +brought Shann there. And the action of the mist was pushing +them into a tight knot. Would they eventually turn on him, +wanting to make sure of their prisoner before they made a +last stand against whatever lurked in the fog? To Shann's +continued relief the aliens seemed to have forgotten him. +Even when one cowered back against the very edge of the +frame on which the Terran was bound, the beetle-head did +not look at this helpless prey.</p> + +<p>They were firing wildly, with desperation in every heavy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> +thrust of bolt. Then one Throg threw down his blaster, raised +his arms over his head, and voicing the same high wail uttered +by his comrade-in-arms earlier, he ran straight into the +mist where a shape materialized, closed in behind him, cutting +him off from his fellows.</p> + +<p>That break demoralized the others. The Throg commander +burned down two of his company with his blaster, but three +more broke past him to the fog. One of the remaining party +reversed his blaster, swung the stock against the officer's carapace, +beating him to his knees, before the attacker raced on +into the billows of the mist. Another threw himself on the +ground and lay there, pounding his claws against the baked +earth. While a remaining two continued with stolid precision +to fire at the lurking shapes which could only be half seen; +and a third helped the officer to his feet.</p> + +<p>The Throg commander reeled back against the frame, his +musky body scent filling Shann's nostrils. But he, too, paid +no attention to the Terran, though his horny arms scraped +across Shann's. Holding both of his claws to his head, he +staggered on, to be engulfed by a new arm of the fog.</p> + +<p>Then, as if the swallowing of the officer had given the +mist a fresh appetite, the wan light waved in a last vast billow +over the clear area about the frame. Shann felt its substance +cold, slimy, on his skin. This was a deadly breath of +un-life.</p> + +<p>He was weakened, sapped of strength, so that he hung in +his bounds, his head lolling forward on his breast. Warmth +pressed against him, a warm wet touch on his cold skin, a +sensation of friendly concern in his mind. Shann gasped, found +that he was no longer filling his lungs with that chill staleness +which was the breath of the fog. He opened his eyes, struggling +to raise his head. The gray light had retreated, but +though a Throg blaster lay close to his feet, another only a +yard beyond, there was no sign of the aliens.</p> + +<p>Instead, standing on their hind feet to press against him +in a demand for his attention, were the wolverines. And seeing<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> +them, Shann dared to believe that the impossible could +be true; somehow he was safe.</p> + +<p>He spoke. And Taggi and Togi answered with eager +whines. The mist was withdrawing more slowly than it had +come. Here and there things lay very still on the ground.</p> + +<p>"Lantee!"</p> + +<p>This time the call came not into his mind but out of the +air. Shann made an effort at reply which was close to a croak.</p> + +<p>"Over here!"</p> + +<p>A new shape in the fog was moving with purpose toward +him. Thorvald strode into the open, sighted Shann, and began +to run.</p> + +<p>"What did they——?" he began.</p> + +<p>Shann wanted to laugh, but the sound which issued from +his dry throat was very little like mirth. He struggled helplessly +until he managed to get out some words which made +sense.</p> + +<p>"... hadn't started in on me yet. You were just in time."</p> + +<p>Thorvald loosened the wires which held the younger man +to the frame and stood ready to catch him as he slumped forward. +And the officer's hold wiped away the last clammy residue +of the mist. Though he did not seem able to keep on his +feet, Shann's mind was clear.</p> + +<p>"What happened?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>"The power." Thorvald was examining him hastily but with +attention for every cut and bruise. "The beetle-heads didn't +really get to work on you——"</p> + +<p>"Told you that," Shann said impatiently. "But what brought +that fog and got the Throgs?"</p> + +<p>Thorvald smiled grimly. The ghostly light was fading as +the fog retreated, but Shann could see well enough to note +that around the other's neck hung one of the Wyvern disks.</p> + +<p>"It was a variation of the veil of illusion. You faced your +memories under the influence of that; so did I. But it would +seem that the Throgs had ones worse than either of us could +produce. You can't play the role of thug all over the galaxy +and not store up in the subconscious a fine line of private fears<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> +and remembered enemies. We provided the means for releasing +those, and they simply raised their own devils to order. +Neatest justice ever rendered. It seems that the 'power' has +a big kick—in a different way—when a Terran will manages +to spark it."</p> + +<p>"And you did?"</p> + +<p>"I made a small beginning. Also I had the full backing of +the Elders, and a general staff of Wyverns in support. In a +way I helped to provide a channel for their concentration. +Alone they can work 'magic'; with us they can spread out +into new fields. Tonight we hunted Throgs as a united team—most +successfully."</p> + +<p>"But they wouldn't go after the one in the skull."</p> + +<p>"No. Direct contact with a Throg mind appears to short-circuit +them. I did the contacting; they fed me what I needed. +We have the answer to the Throgs now—one answer." Thorvald +looked back over the field where those bodies lay so +still. "We can kill Throgs. Maybe someday we can learn another +trick—how to live with them." He returned abruptly to +the present. "You did contact the transport?"</p> + +<p>Shann explained what had happened in the com dome. "I +think when the ship broke contact that way they understood."</p> + +<p>"We'll take it that they did, and be on the move." Thorvald +helped Shann to his feet. "If a cruiser berths here shortly, +I don't propose to be under its tail flames when it sets down."</p> + +<p>The cruiser came. And a mop-up squad patrolled outward +from the reclaimed camp, picked up two living Throgs, both +wandering witlessly. But Shann only heard of that later. He +slept, so deep and dreamlessly that when he roused he was +momentarily dazed.</p> + +<p>A Survey uniform—with a cadet's badges—lay across the +wall seat facing his bunk in the barracks he had left ... how +many days or weeks before? The garments fitted well enough, +but he removed the insignia to which he was not entitled. +When he ventured out he saw half a dozen troopers of the +patrol, together with Thorvald, watching the cruiser lift again +into the morning sky.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span></p> + +<p>Taggi and Togi, trailing leashes, galloped out of nowhere +to hurl themselves at him in uproarious welcome. And Thorvald +must have heard their eager whines even through the +blast of the ship, for he turned and waved Shann to join +him.</p> + +<p>"Where is the cruiser going?"</p> + +<p>"To punch a Throg base out of this system," Thorvald answered. +"They located it—on Witch."</p> + +<p>"But we're staying on here?"</p> + +<p>Thorvald glanced at him oddly. "There won't be any settlement +now. But we have to establish a conditional embassy +post. And the patrol has left a guard."</p> + +<p>Embassy post. Shann digested that. Yes, of course, Thorvald, +because of his close contact with the Wyverns, would +be left here for the present to act as liaison officer-in-charge.</p> + +<p>"We don't propose," the other was continuing, "to allow +to lapse any contact with the one intelligent alien race we +have discovered who can furnish us with full-time partnership +to our mutual benefit. And there mustn't be any bungling +here!"</p> + +<p>Shann nodded. That made sense. As soon as possible Warlock +would witness the arrival of another team, one slanted +this time to the cultivation of an alien friendship and alliance, +rather than preparation for Terran colonists. Would they keep +him on? He supposed not; the wolverines' usefulness was no +longer apparent.</p> + +<p>"Don't you know your regulations?" There was a snap in +Thorvald's demand which startled Shann. He glanced up, +discovered the other surveying him critically. "You're not in +uniform——"</p> + +<p>"No, sir," he admitted. "I couldn't find my own kit."</p> + +<p>"Where are your badges?"</p> + +<p>Shann's hand went up to the marks left when he had so +carefully ripped off the insignia.</p> + +<p>"My badges? I have no rank," he replied, bewildered.</p> + +<p>"Every team carries at least one cadet on strength."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span></p> + +<p>Shann flushed. There had been one cadet on this team; +why did Thorvald want to remember that?</p> + +<p>"Also," the other's voice sounded remote, "there can be +appointments made in the field—for cause. Those appointments +are left to the discretion of the officer-in-charge, and +they are never questioned. I repeat, you are not in uniform, +Lantee. You will make the necessary alteration and report +to me at headquarters dome. As sole representatives of Terra +here we have a matter of protocol to be discussed with our +witches, and they have a right to expect punctuality from a +pair of warlocks, so get going!"</p> + +<p>Shann still stood, staring incredulously at the officer. Then +Thorvald's official severity vanished in a smile which was +warm and real.</p> + +<p>"Get going," he ordered once more, "before I have to log +you for inattention to orders."</p> + +<p>Shann turned, nearly stumbling over Taggi, and then ran +back to the barracks in quest of some very important bits of +braid he hoped he could find in a hurry.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 131px;"> +<img src="images/illus-back.jpg" width="131" height="600" alt="" title="" /> +</div> +<p class="center" style="font-size:larger; font-weight:bold;">STORM OVER WARLOCK</p> + +<p>"A satisfying and mature novel +which readers will seize upon if +they want to enjoy a good adventure +story.</p> + +<p>"A survey base on a remote +planet is wiped out by a raid of +Earth's enemies, the Throgs; the +only survivor must face the perils +of an unexplored planet while trying +somehow to strike back at the +enemy....</p> + +<p>"As always Norton creates both +human and alien beings well, and +tells a story that you can't stop +reading."</p> + +<p><span class="ralign">—<i>New York Herald Tribune</i></span><br /><br /></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> +<p class="center" style="font-size:larger; font-weight:bold;">"UP TO NORTON'S BEST STANDARDS."</p> + +<p><span class="ralign">—<i>Library Journal</i></span><br /></p> + +<p>The Throg task force struck the Terran survey camp +a few minutes after dawn, without warning, and with a +deadly precision which argued that the aliens had fully +reconnoitered and prepared that attack. Eye-searing +lances of energy lashed back and forth across the base +with methodical accuracy. And a single cowering witness, +flattened on a ledge in the heights above, knew +that when the last of those yellow-red bolts fell, nothing +human would be left alive down there.</p> + +<p>And so Shann Lantee, most menial of the Terrans +attached to the camp on the planet Warlock, was left +alone and weaponless in the strange, hostile world, the +human prey of the aliens from space and the aliens on +the ground alike.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span></p> + +<p>ANDRE NORTON has become one of the highest rated +authors of science-fiction adventure now writing. A +native of Cleveland, Ohio, a book collector, and s-f fan, +Ace Books have had the pleasure of presenting her best +novels in newsstand editions.</p> + +<p>A checklist of available Andre Norton books:</p> + +<ul class="off"><li>STAR GUARD (D-199)</li> +<li>SARGASSO OF SPACE (D-249)</li> +<li>STAR BORN (D-299)</li> +<li>PLAGUE SHIP (D-345)</li> +<li>VOODOO PLANET (D-345)</li> +<li>SECRET OF THE LOST RACE (D-381)</li> +<li>THE SIOUX SPACEMAN (D-437)</li> +<li>THE TIME TRADERS (D-461)</li> +<li>GALACTIC DERELICT (D-498)</li> +<li>STAR HUNTER (D-509)</li> +<li>THE BEAST MASTER (D-509)</li> +</ul> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="bbox"> +<h4 style="margin-top:0">Transcriber's Notes & Errata</h4> +<ul> +<li>'nonhuman' is used as an adjective. 'non-human' is used as a noun.</li> +<li>'skullmountain' and 'skull-mountain' are used once each.</li> +</ul> + +<p>The following typographical errors have been corrected.</p> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr style="font-weight:bold"><td align='left'>Page</td><td align='left'>Error</td><td align='left'>Correction</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>11</td><td align='left'>gods</td><td align='left'>gobs</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>17</td><td align='left'>of world</td><td align='left'>of the world</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>26</td><td align='left'>beetlehead</td><td align='left'>beetle-head</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>29</td><td align='left'>beetleheads</td><td align='left'>beetle-heads</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>55</td><td align='left'>eye-holes</td><td align='left'>eyeholes</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>71</td><td align='left'>Thorfald's</td><td align='left'>Thorvald's</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>87</td><td align='left'>overhand</td><td align='left'>overhang</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>88</td><td align='left'>look</td><td align='left'>took</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>94</td><td align='left'>edgeing</td><td align='left'>edging</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>111</td><td align='left'>verticle</td><td align='left'>vertical</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>123</td><td align='left'>fist</td><td align='left'>first</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>125</td><td align='left'>ceremoney</td><td align='left'>ceremony</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>131</td><td align='left'>be</td><td align='left'>he</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>131</td><td align='left'>then</td><td align='left'>their</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>131</td><td align='left'>trid-ee</td><td align='left'>tri-dee</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>132</td><td align='left'>heeled</td><td align='left'>healed</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>133</td><td align='left'>again</td><td align='left'>against</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>134</td><td align='left'>midst</td><td align='left'>mist</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>144</td><td align='left'>Shan</td><td align='left'>Shann</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>145</td><td align='left'>assauged</td><td align='left'>assuaged</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>156</td><td align='left'>occurred</td><td align='left'>occurred</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>156</td><td align='left'>one one</td><td align='left'>one</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>164</td><td align='left'>and and</td><td align='left'>and</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>166</td><td align='left'>route</td><td align='left'>rout</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>168</td><td align='left'>roll</td><td align='left'>role</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>170</td><td align='left'>Shanned</td><td align='left'>Shann</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>180</td><td align='left'>activited</td><td align='left'>activated</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>180</td><td align='left'>furiuosly</td><td align='left'>furiously</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>182</td><td align='left'>beetlehead</td><td align='left'>beetle-head</td></tr> +</table></div> +</div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Storm Over Warlock, by Andre Norton + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STORM OVER WARLOCK *** + +***** This file should be named 20788-h.htm or 20788-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/7/8/20788/ + +Produced by LN Yaddanapudi, Greg Weeks and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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