as he could, knowing only that he must head inland. Under his feet the
ground was rising, and he recalled the nature of this territory as
Torgul and Jazia had pictured it for him. This had to be part of the
ridge wall of the valley in which lay the buildings of the fairing. In
these heights was the Shrine of Phutka where Jazia had hidden out. To
the west now lay the Rover village, so he had to work his way left,
downhill, in order to reach the hole where the Baldies had gone to
ground. Ross made that progress with the stealth of a trained scout.
Hawaika's moon, triple in size to Terra's companion, was up, and the
landscape was sharply clear, with shadows well defined. The glow, weird
to Terran eyes, added to the effect of being abroad in a nightmare, and
the bellowing of the grounded salkars continued a devils' chorus.
When the Rovers had put up the buildings of their fairing, they had
cleared a series of small fields radiating outward from those
structures. All of these were now covered with crops almost ready to
harvest. The grain, if that Terran term could be applied to this
Hawaikan product, was housed in long pods which dipped from
shoulder-high bushes. And the pods were well equipped with horny
projections which tore. A single try at making his way into one of those
fields convinced Ross of the folly of such an advance. He sat back to
nurse his scratched hands and survey the landscape.
To go down a very tempting lane would be making himself a clear target
for anyone in those buildings ahead. He had seen the flamers of the
Baldies fail on the beach, but that did not mean the aliens were now
weaponless.
His best chance, Ross decided, was to circle north, come back down along
the bed of a stream. And he was at the edge of that watercourse when a
faint sound brought him to a frozen halt, weapon ready.
"Rosss--"
"Loketh!"
"And Torgul and Vistur."
This was the party from the opposite side of the island, gone expertly
to earth. In the moonlight Ross could detect no sign of their presence,
yet their voices sounded almost beside him.
"They are in there, in the great hall." That was Torgul. "But no longer
are there any lights."
"Now--" An urgent exclamation drew their attention.
Light below. But not the glow of the rods Ross had seen on the beach.
This was the warm yellow-red of honest fire, bursting up, the flames
growing higher as if being fed with frantic haste.
Three figures were moving down there. Ross began to believe that there
were only this trio ashore. He could sight no weapons in their hands,
which did not necessarily mean they were unarmed. But the stream ran
close behind the rear wall of one of the buildings, and Ross thought its
bed could provide cover for a man who knew what he was doing. He pointed
out as much to Torgul.
"And if their magic works and you are drawn out to be killed?" The Rover
captain came directly to the point.
"That is a chance to be taken. But remember ... the magic of the Foanna
at the sea gate did not work against me. Perhaps this won't either.
Once, earlier, I won against it."
"Have you then another hand to give to the fire as your defense?" That
was Vistur. "But no man has the right to order another's battle
challenge."
"Just so," returned Ross sharply. "And this is a thing I have long been
trained to do."
He slid down into the stream bed. Approaching from this angle, the
structures of the fairing were between him and the fire. So screened he
reached a log wall, got to his feet, and edged along it. Then he
witnessed a wild scene. The fire raged in great, sky-touching tongues.
And already the roof of one of the Rover buildings smoldered. Why the
aliens had built up such a conflagration, Ross could not guess. A signal
designed to reach some distance?
He did not doubt there was some urgent purpose. For the three were
dragging in fuel with almost frenzied haste, bringing out of the Rover
buildings bales of cloth to be ripped apart and whirled into the
devouring flames, furniture, everything movable which would burn.
There was one satisfaction. The Baldies were so intent upon this
destruction that they kept no watch save that now and then one of them
would run to the head of the path leading to the lagoon and listen as if
he expected a salkar to come pounding up the slope.
"They're ... they're rattled!" Ross could hardly believe it. The Baldies
who had always occupied his mind and memory as practically invincible
supermen were acting like badly frightened primitives! And when the
enemy was so off balance you pushed--you pushed hard.
Ross thumbed the button on the grip of the strange weapon. He sighted
with deliberation and fired. The blue figure at the top of the path
wilted, and for a long moment neither of his companions noted his
collapse. Then one of them whirled and started for the limp body, his
colleague running after him. Ross allowed them to reach his first victim
before he fired the second and third time.
All three lay quiet, but still Ross did not venture forth until he had
counted off a dozen Terran seconds. Then he slipped forward keeping to
cover until he came up to the bodies.
The blue-clad shoulder had a flaccid feel under his hand as if the
muscles could not control the flesh about them. Ross rolled the alien
over, looked down in the bright light of the fire into the Baldy's
wide-open eyes. Amazement--the Terran thought he could read that in the
dead stare which answered his intent gaze--and then anger, a cold and
deadly anger which chilled into ice.
"Kill!"
Ross slewed around, still down on one knee, to face the charge of a
Rover. In the firelight the Hawaikan's eyes were blazing with fanatical
hatred. He had his hooked sword ready to deliver a finishing stroke. The
Terran blocked with a shoulder to meet the Rover's knees, threw him
back. Then Ross landed on top of the fighting crewman, trying to pin the
fellow to earth and avoid that recklessly slashing blade.
"Loketh! Vistur!" Ross shouted as he struggled.
More of the Rovers appeared from between the buildings, bearing down on
the limp aliens and the two fighting men. Ross recognized the limping
gait of Loketh using a branch to aid him into a running scuttle across
the open.
"Loketh--here!"
The Hawaikan covered the last few feet in a dive which carried him into
Ross and the Rover. "Hold him," the Terran ordered and had just time
enough to throw himself between the Baldies and the rest of the crew.
There was a snarling from the Rovers; and Ross, knowing their temper,
was afraid he could not save the captives which they considered, fairly,
their legitimate prey. He must depend upon the hope that there were one
or two cooler heads among them with enough authority to restrain the
would-be avengers. Otherwise he would have to beam them into
helplessness.
"Torgul!" he shouted.
There was a break in the line of runners speeding for him. The big man
lunging straight across could only be Vistur; the other, yelling orders,
was Torgul. It would depend upon how much control the Captain had over
his men. Ross scrambled to his feet. He had clicked on the beamer to its
lowest frequency. It would not kill, but would render its victim
temporarily paralyzed; and how long that state would continue Ross had
no way of knowing. Tried on Terran laboratory animals, the time had
varied from days to weeks.
Vistur used the flat side of his war ax, clapping it against the
foremost runners, setting his own bulk to impose a barrier. And now
Torgul's orders appeared to be getting through, more and more of the men
slacked, leaving a trio of hotheads, two of whom Vistur sent reeling
with his fists.
The Captain came up to Ross. "They are alive then?" He leaned over to
inspect the Baldy the Terran had rolled on his back, assessing the
alien's frozen stare with thoughtful measurement.
"Yes, but they can not move."
"Well enough." Torgul nodded. "They shall meet the Justice of Phutka
after the Law. I think they will wish that they had been left to the
boarding axes of angry men."
"They are worth more alive than dead, Captain. Do you not wish to know
why they have carried war to your people, how many of them there may yet
be to attack--and other things? Also--" Ross nodded at the fire now
catching the second building, "why have they built up that blaze? Is it
a signal to others of their kind?"
"Very well said. Yes, it would be well for us to learn such things. Nor
will Phutka be jealous of the time we take to ask questions and get
answers, many answers." He prodded the Baldy with the toe of his sea
boot.
"How long will they remain so? Your magic has a bite in it."
Ross smiled. "Not my magic, Captain. This weapon was taken from one of
their own ships. As to how long they will remain so--that I do not
know."
"Very well, we can take precautions." Under Torgul's orders the aliens
were draped with capture nets like those Ross and Loketh had worn. The
sea-grown plant adhered instantly, wet strands knitting in perfect
restrainers as long as it was uncut.
Having seen to that, Torgul ordered the excavation of Kyn Add.
"As you say," he remarked to Ross, "that fire may well be a signal to
bring down more of their kind. I think we have had the Favor of Phutka
in this matter, but the prudent man stretches no favor of that kind too
far. Also," he looked about him--"we have given to Phutka and the Shades
our dead; there is nothing for us here now but hate and sorrow. In one
day we have been broken from a clan of pride and ships to a handful of
standardless men."
"You will join some other clan?" Karara had come with Jazia to stand on
the stone ledge chipped to form a base for a column bearing a strange,
brooding-eyed head looking seaward. The Rover woman was superintending
the freeing of the head from the column.
At the Terran girl's question the Captain gazed down into the dreadful
chaos of the valley. They could yet hear the roars of the dying salkars.
The reptiles that had made their way to land had not withdrawn but still
lay, some dead now, some with weaving heads reaching inland. And the
whole of the fairing was ablaze with fire.
"We are now blood-sworn men, Sea Maid. For such there is no clan. There
is only the hunting and the kill. With the magic of Phutka perhaps we
shall have a short hunt and a good kill."
"There ... now ... so...." Jazia stepped back. The head which had faced
the sea was lowered carefully to a wide strip of crimson-and-gold stuff
she had brought from Torgul's ship. With her one usable hand the Rover
woman drew the fabric about the carving, muffling it except for the
eyes. Those were large ovals deeply carved, and in them Ross saw a
glitter. Jewels set there? Yet, he had a queer, shivery feeling that
something more than gems occupied those sockets--that he had actually
been regarded for an instant of time, assessed and dismissed.
"We go now." Jazia waved and Torgul sent men forward. They lifted the
wrapped carving to a board carried between them and started downslope.
Karara cried out and Ross looked around.
The pillar which had supported the head was crumbling away, breaking
into a rubble which cascaded across the stone ledge. Ross blinked--this
must be an illusion, but he was too tired to be more than dully amazed
as he became one of the procession returning to the ships.
13
The Sea Gate of the Foanna
Ross raised a shell cup to his lips but hardly sipped the fiery brew it
contained. This was a gesture of ceremony, but he wanted a steady head
and a quick tongue for any coming argument. Torgul, Afrukta, Ongal--the
three commanders of the Rover cruisers; Jazia, who represented the
mysterious Power of Phutka; Vistur and some other subordinate officers;
Karara; himself, with Loketh hovering behind: a council of war. But
summoned against whom?
The Terran had come too far afield from his own purpose--to reach Ashe
in the Foanna keep. And to further his own plans was a task he doubted
his ability to perform. His attack on the Baldies had made him too
important to the Rovers for them to allow him willingly to leave them on
a quest of his own.
"These star men"--Ross set down the cup, tried to choose the most
telling words in his limited Hawaikan vocabulary--"possess weapons and
powers you can not dream of, that you have no defense against. Back at
Kyn Add we were lucky. The salkars attacked their sub and halted the
broadcast powering their flamers. Otherwise we could not have taken
them, even though we were many against their few. Now you talk of
hunting them in their own territory--on land and in the mountains where
they have their base. That would be folly akin to swimming barehanded to
front a salkar."
"So--then we must sit and wait for them to eat us up?" flared Ongal. "I
say it is better to die fighting with one's blade wet!"
"Do you not also wish to take at least one of the enemy with you when
you fight to that finish?" Ross countered. "These could kill you before
you came in blade range."
"You had no trouble with that weapon of yours," Afrukta spoke up.
"I have told you--this weapon was stolen from them. I have only one and
I do not know how long it will continue to serve me, or whether they
have a defense against it. Those we took were naked to any force, for
their broadcast had failed them. But to smash blindly against their main
base would be the act of madmen."
"The salkars opened a way for us--" That was Torgul.
"But we can not move a pack of those inland to the mountains," Vistur
pointed out reasonably.
Ross studied the Captain. That Torgul was groping for a plan and that it
had to be a shrewd one, the Terran guessed. His respect for the Rover
commander had been growing steadily since their first meeting. The
cruiser-raiders had always been captained by the most daring men of the
Rover clans. But Ross was also certain that a successful cruiser
commander must possess a level-headed leaven of intelligence and be a
strategist of parts.
The Hawaikan force needed a key which would open the Baldy base as the
salkars had opened the lagoon. And all they had to aid them was a
handful of facts gained from their prisoners.
Oddly enough the picklock to the captives' minds had been produced by
the dolphins. Just as Tino-rau and Taua had formed a bridge of
communication between the Terran and Loketh, so did they read and
translate the thoughts of the galactic invaders. For the Baldies, among
their own kind, were telepathic, vocalizing only to give orders to
inferiors.
Their capture by these primitive "inferiors" had delivered the first
shock, and the mind-probes of the dolphins had sent the "supermen" close
to the edge of sanity. To accept an animal form as an equal had been
shattering.
But the star men's thoughts and memories had been winnowed at last and
the result spread before this impromptu council. Rovers and Terrans were
briefed on the invaders' master plan for taking over a world. Why they
desired to do so even the dolphins had not been able to discover;
perhaps they themselves had not been told by their superiors.
It was a plan almost contemptuous in its simplicity, as if the galactic
force had no reason to fear effective opposition. Except in one
direction--one single direction.
Ross's fingers tightened on the shell cup. Had Torgul reached that
conclusion yet, the belief that the Foanna could be their key? If so,
they might be able to achieve their separate purposes in one action.
"It would seem that they are wary of the Foanna," he suggested, alert to
any telltale response from Torgul. But it was Jazia who answered the
Terran's half question.
"The Foanna have a powerful magic; they can order wind and wave, man and
creature--if so be their will. Well might these killers fear the
Foanna!"
"Yet now they move against them," Ross pointed out, still eyeing Torgul.
The Captain's reply was a small, quiet smile.
"Not directly, as you have heard. It is all a part of their plan to set
one of us against the other, letting us fight many small wars and so use
up our men while they take no risks. They wait the day when we shall be
exhausted and then they will reveal themselves to claim all they wish.
So today they stir up trouble between the Wreckers and the Foanna,
knowing that the Foanna are few. Also they strive in turn to anger us by
raids, allowing us to believe that either the Wreckers or Foanna have
attacked. Thus--" he held up his left thumb, made a pincers of right
thumb and forefinger to close upon it, "they hope to catch the Foanna,
between Wreckers and Rovers. Because the Foanna are those they reckon
the most dangerous they move against them now, using us and weakening
our forces into the bargain. A plan which is clever, but the plan of men
who do not like to fight with their own blades."
"They are worse than the coast scum, these cowards!" Ongal spat.
Torgul smiled again. "That is what they believe we will say, kinsman,
and so underrate them. By our customs, yes, they are cowards. But what
care they for our judgments? Did we think of the salkars when we used
them to force the lagoon? No, they were only beasts to be our tools.
So now it is the same with us, except that we know what they intend.
And we shall not be such obedient tools. If the Foanna are our answer,
then--" He paused, gazing into his cup as if he could read some shadowy
future there.
"If the Foanna are the answer, then what?" Ross pushed.
"Instead of fighting the Foanna, we must warm, cherish, try to ally
ourselves with them. And do all that while we still have time!"
"Just how do we do these things?" demanded Ongal. "The Foanna you would
warn, cherish, claim as allies, are already our enemies. Were we not on
the way to force their sea gate only days ago? There is no chance of
seeking peace now. And have the finned ones not learned from the
women-killers that already there is an army of Wreckers camped about the
citadel to which these sons of the Shadow plan to lend certain weapons?
Do we throw away three cruisers--all we have left--in a hopeless fight?
Such is the council of one struck by loss of wits."
"There is a way--my way," Ross seized the opening. "In the Foanna
citadel is my sword-lord, to whose service I am vowed. We were on our
way to attempt his freeing when your ship picked us out of the waves. He
is learned beyond me in the dealing with strange peoples, and if the
Foanna are as clever as you say, they will already have discovered that
he is not just a slave they claimed from Lord Zahur."
There it was in the open, his own somewhat tattered hope that Ashe had
been able to impress his captors with his knowledge and potential.
Trained to act as contact man with other races, there was a chance that
Gordon had saved himself from whatever fate had been planned for the
prisoners the Foanna had claimed. If that happened, Ashe could be their
opening wedge in the Foanna stronghold.
"This also I know: That which guards the gate--which turns your minds
whirling and sent you back from your raid--does not affect me. I may be
able to win inside and find my clansman, and in that doing treat with
the Foanna."
The Baldy prisoners had not underestimated the attack on the Foanna
citadel. As the Rover cruisers beat in under the cover of night the
fires and torches of both besieged and besiegers made a wild glow across
the sky. Only on the sea side of the fortress there was no sign of
involvement. Whatever guarded the gate must still be in force.
Ross stood with his feet well apart to balance his body against the
swing of the deck. His suggestion had been argued over, protested, but
at last carried with the support of Torgul and Jazia, and now he was to
make his try. The sum of the Rovers' and Loketh's knowledge of the sea
gate had been added for his benefit, but he knew that this venture must
depend upon himself alone. Karara, the dolphins, the Hawaikans, were all
too sensitive to the barrier.
Torgul moved in the faint light. "We are close; our power is ebbing. If
we advance, we shall be drifting soon."
"It is time then." Ross crossed to the rope ladder, but another was
there before him. Karara perched on the rail. He regarded her angrily.
"You can't go."
"I know. But we are still safe here. Just because you are free of one
defense of the gate, Ross, do not believe that makes it easy."
He was stung by her assumption that he could be so self-assured.
"I know my business."
Ross pushed past her, swinging down the rope ladder, pausing only above
water level to snap on flippers, make sure of the set of his weighted
belt, and slide his gill-mask over his face. There was a splash beside
him as the net containing spare belt, flippers, and mask hit the water
and he caught at it. These could provide Ashe's escape from the
fortress.
The lights on the shore made a wide arc of radiance across the sea. As
Ross headed toward the wave-washed coast he began to hear shouting and
other sounds which made him believe that the besiegers were in the midst
of an all-out assault. Yet those distant fires and rocketlike blasts
into the sky had a wavery blur. And Ross, making his way with the
effortless water cleaving of the diver, surfaced now and then to spot
film curling up from the surface of the sea between the two standing
rock pillars which marked the sea gate.
He was startled by a thunderous crack, rending the air above the small
bay. Ross pulled to one of the pillars, steadied himself with one hand
against it. Those twists of film rising from the surging surface were
thickening. More tendrils grew out from parent stems to creep along
above the waves, raising up sprouts and branches in turn. A wall of mist
was building between gate and shore.
Again a thunderclap overhead. Involuntarily the Terran ducked. Then he
turned his face up to the sky, striving to see any evidence of storm.
What hung there sped the growth of the fog on the water. Yet where the
fog was gray-white, it was a darkness spouting from the highest point of
the citadel. Ross could not explain how he was able to see one shade of
darkness against equal dusk, but he did--or did he only sense it? He
shook his head, willing himself to look away from the finger. Only it
was a finger no longer; now it was a fist aimed at the stars it was fast
blotting out. A fist rising to the heavens before it curled back,
descended to press the fortress and its surroundings into rock and
earth.
Fog curled about Ross, spilled outward through the sea gates. He loosed
his grip on the pillar and dived, swimming on through the gap with the
fortress of the Foanna before him.
There was a jetty somewhere ahead; that much he knew from Torgul's
description. Those who served the Foanna sometimes took sea roads and
they had slim, fast cutters for such coastwise travel. Ross surfaced
cautiously, to discover there was no visibility to wave level. Here the
mist was thick, a smothering cover so bewildering he was confused as to
direction. He ducked below again and flippered on.
Was his confusion born of the fog, or was it also in his head? Did he,
after all, have this much reaction to the gate defense? Ross ducked that
suspicion as he had ducked the moist blanket on the surface. He had come
from the gate, which meant that the jetty must lie--there!
A few moments later Ross had proof that his sense of direction had not
altogether failed him, when his shoulder grazed against a solid
obstruction in the water and his exploring touch told him that he had
found one of the jetty piles. He surfaced again and this time he heard
not a thunder roll but the singsong chanting of the Foanna.
It was loud, almost directly above his head, but since the cotton mist
held he was not afraid of being sighted. The chanter must be on the
jetty. And to Ross's right was a dark bulk which he thought was one of
the cutters. Was a sortie by the besieged being planned?
Then, out of the night, came a dazzling beam, well above the level of
Ross's head where he clung to the piling. It centered on the cutter,
slicing into the substance of the vessel with the ease of steel piercing
clay. The chanting stopped on mid-note, broken by cries of surprise and
alarm. Ross, pressing against the pile, received a jolt from his belt
sonic.
There must be a Baldy sub in the basin inside the gate. Perhaps the
flame beam now destroying the cutter was to be turned on the walls of
the keep in turn.