A man in tweed suit that hung in tatters from bulky shoulders whirled
and stared. His hair was pale blond, and his eyes were icy blue. Thor
didn't need his, "Jove, you are!" to tell he was from England.
"Thor Masterson," he said, putting out a hand.
The Englishman chuckled, "Peter Gordon. I'm a gentleman farmer--or was,
you know--from Devon. When did you get into this place?"
"A few weeks ago. How long've you been here?"
"Seven years, near as I can make it. How--how are things back--back
there?"
Thor told him. Gordon opened wide eyes at news of the war. He shook
his head, smiling, "It seems so far away, when you've lived here for a
while. It's as though you knew no other life, Jove! War. Well, we fight
a war here all the time. With the Black Priest. He and his men raid our
little settlements. For women, you know. Have to raid back, naturally.
Got to have women to breed kids to fight the Flame."
Gordon led Thor forward toward a group of three. One was the
white-haired ape. When Thor looked into his eyes, he saw keen
intelligence blazing out of black eyes. Another was a lavender-tinted
man clad in broad leathern belt and kilt of dark maroon. He was from
a planet named Zarathza. The third man was a giant in a black fur
mantle, who carried a spear that looked like a small Oregon pine.
"We must attack that low-walled building over there," said the
Zarathzan, whose name was Tor Kan. "They keep the women in there. We
don't have many weapons, as you can see. We'll lose a lot of men."
Thor thought of the robots he had fought. They didn't seem like such
brilliant warriors. He said so.
The giant in the black fur grunted, "A frontal attack is always costly,
even if you fought against women."
"Why attack frontally? Create a diversion, with a false attack. Then
slip through the walls--"
"Through the walls? You sound like a bally ghost," smiled Gordon.
Thor lifted the ruby from his pocket and showed it to them. Their eyes
bulged in awe, looking at it. "A gatestone!" whispered the Zarathzan,
licking his lips. "With that we could go anywhere."
The white ape, whom Thor later learned was from Fomalhaut's fifth
planet and called Yorg, drew back his lips from his big fangs. He
rumbled, "Let the American hie himself and his red dwarf through the
walls with a few of us. Others will storm the gates of the compound.
The American can open the gates when he is inside. If," he added
wistfully, "he could get us a few of the robots' weapons--"
Thor grinned, "Come on, Yorg. You and Slag and I will turn ourselves
into an ordnance crew. We'll get the weapons."
They joined hands and turned the ruby.
The red grasslands were back, blowing in the breeze. The three ran
swiftly forward. Yorg, who knew the compound almost as he did his own
settlement, called to them to halt.
"Now turn the gatestone."
When the blackness of the dimensional barrier faded, Thor found himself
in a room that was formed by a circle of grey stones. From wooden racks
inset in the stone hung swords and spears, tall bows and metal-tipped
arrows.
Yorg whispered, "There is almost no metal on this planet. That
partially accounts for the reason that we fight with bows and arrows.
To make weapons that are any more powerful you need steel and other
iron alloys. And besides, I often think that Aava only trusts his
androids as far as he can see them.
"The magnetic current of the planet that drags men and women and
anything it touches onto its surface must at some time or other have
taken potent weapons. But if there are any, only Aava knows where they
are hidden. Then too, you need intelligence to use complicated weapons.
The androids possess only a pseudo-intellect."
Trip after trip the trio made, their heavily muscled arms laden with
every weapon in the arsenal. Once Yorg said grimly, "If ever we had a
gatestone in our possession before, things would be different today."
He looked at Thor and added, "The man who owns a gatestone could rule
the settlements."
"I don't want to rule anything," growled Thor. "I just want to find my
woman--and have another go at Aava."
* * * * *
Yorg had been slashing air with a sword, testing its balance. Now he
lowered the point and popped black eyes at Thor, in amazement. "Another
go? Have you seen Aava? And you live?"
As they carted the weapons back across the grasslands, Thor told him
of his experience with the Discoverer. York listened in silence, then
dropped a gigantic paw to his naked shoulder.
"Forget Aava," he counselled. "Aava is too powerful. Nothing can defeat
him."
"I'm a funny guy," replied Thor. "The longer the odds, the better I
fight. It's a sort of tradition in my country. The Alamo. Custer and
his last stand. Bataan. Wake Island. Yeah, I'd like another try at
Aava. Some of these days, I'll get around to it."
Tor Kan crooned in his throat when he fitted his palm around the hilt
of a sword. Morlon, the giant in the black fur pulled his lips back
from white teeth in delight as he hefted a huge bow. Peter Gordon
twanged a bowstring, with, "I used to do a bit of archery in Devon. For
fun, you know. I haven't forgotten how to feather a shaft."
In the shadows, the other weapons were handed out to eager hands while
throats whined in battle lust.
They turned to Thor then, and stood waiting. He drew a deep breath.
"The best archers among you, do you know them? Good. You're the
artillery. You stand in the shadows and shoot at any who show
themselves on that wall. You others--swordsmen and spearmen--follow Tor
Kan and Yorg. They'll charge for the gates. Slag and I will get inside
the compound walls and open them for you.
"Listen, all of you. Listen well.
"I don't know whether any of us will ever go back to what we used to
call home. Maybe there isn't any need for that. We have a world all our
own, now. We can make it what we will.
"But we have to defeat Aava. Don't flinch at his name. He has you
licked already if you do that. By fighting his robots, you're fighting
him. They're his arms and legs. Take them away and Aava isn't anything!"
Their voices growled angry reassurances in the shadows. Weapons glinted
as they were swung, shimmery in the moonrays.
"Come, Slag."
The purple light deep inside the ruby seemed to flare in mad anger as
Thor held the jewel in his palm, looking down at it. Turn it slowly,
turn it gently. Go into the darkness and the nothingness, to--
Thor stood inside the walls. Ahead of him was the great gate with
rusted bolt, looming in the white walls like a gap between bright
teeth. He leaped for the bolt and wrenched at it.
Slag came to help him. Between them they broke the rust of years,
watching reddish flakes fly as the barrel-bolt turned in its groove.
An arrow plunked into the wooden door, an inch from Thor's brown hair
where it hung to his big shoulders. He whirled and deflected its fellow
with his sword as Slag threw wide the gates.
A horde of furred and savage fighters came roaring into the compound,
swords and warclubs in their hands. Thor saw the androids swarming
from the far side of the enclosure, racing to meet the invaders. Yorg
grasped his arm and swung him around.
"The women," he gasped. "Hurry! We won't have much time. Those androids
can only be stopped by smashing the machinery inside their skulls."
Thor ran with the white ape across the hard flooring of the pavilion.
He could hear the screams and excited cries of women beyond the inner
battlements.
He hit the lock a blow that crumpled the cup-guard of his blade, but
the lock broke. Yorg threw open the doors.
"Come! All you women, come!"
Thor pressed against the open gate, staring at women in rags, women
naked, women in torn silks and satins. There were red heads, and
brunettes, and girls with hair the colour of old amber. Some were
lovely, some ugly, some were furred like Yorg. They ran silently,
scenting freedom.
Thor was a tall man. Standing, he looked over those tossing heads,
seeking Karola. He saw her in the press, clothes almost ripped entirely
away. He bellowed and shook his battered sword above his head.
He clove a path to her, swung her up on his hip, and ran.