The Mink he seeks the gentrylass;
He eyes the gods above;
He laughs their might to scorn, the while
He hunts his highborn love.
A fearsome lion bars the way,
The Mink he cannot pass;
He lifts his pick with fearful rage,
And blood besmears the grass!
--Ruck's Ballad of the Mink
Revel was plowing through the brush like a wound-crazed bear. Jerran
came behind, shouting directions, for Revel's impatience would not be
stilled enough for him to follow anyone, especially the small Jerran,
whose head rang, he said, from the skull-cracking blow he'd been given
by Rack, and who was slowed as a consequence.
Revel got farther and farther in advance, tearing with his pick at vines
and creepers, trampling small trees, making enough noise for seven men.
Dimly he remembered much of the trail hereabouts, and at last he was so
far ahead of Jerran that he couldn't hear him.
He came into a tiny glade, ceilinged with branches of the oaks. Across
its width, some twenty feet from him, a huge woods lion lay above the
torn corpse of a man. One of the rebels from the meeting, thought Revel,
who wasn't so lucky as most. The lion looked up and growled.
Its mane was long and bur-tangled, black as sin; its body seven hundred
pounds of muscle and bone, was longer than Revel was tall. He greeted it
joyously, a foe to grapple with at last!
It came to its feet, challenge on challenge rumbling in its massive
chest. He drew a gun, then stuck it back. His hands ached for work, more
work than the pulling of a trigger. He ported his pickax. "Come along,
old monster," he said. "We'll see how a mink and a lion can mix it!"
It stalked two steps, gathered itself for a leap; he didn't wait, but
sprang forward to meet it. The lion rose, checking its pounce with
surprise, for surely no man had ever charged _it_ before. The pick swung
down as it struck sideways at Revel, catching it in one shoulder,
tearing the flesh like dough. It screeched, clawing for him.
One of the scimitar claws caught his side, gashing shirt and skin. Revel
whirled, yelling, flung himself on the animal's back, grabbed a handful
of mane with his left hand, and buried the pick in the center of the
woods lion's skull. The carcass lost its stiffness, sagged and fell, leg
bones cracking like gun shots as the tremendous body came down upon
them. Revel sprang to one side, lighting on his feet.
"Not bad," said Jerran drily, coming into the glade. "If you're quite
through, Revel, we might be going along?"
"I had to find out if I'm really the Mink," explained Revel, retrieving
his pick from the splintered bone of the lion's head. "The Mink could
slay a woods lion with one blow, it says in the ballads. This fellow
took me two blows."
Jerran said, his face twisted, "Damn you, don't get cocky on me! You're
important now, no dirty miner, but a leader! If you haven't got the
brains to lead, at least keep still, follow my orders, and be a
figurehead. But don't take chances for the fun of it, because your lousy
hulk may be the salvation of man, despite yourself!"
Revel hung his head. Jerran looked at him a moment. "Nerves, that's it,
and excitement, and eagerness to do something with your big hands.
You're young, and I shouldn't expect strict attention to duty of you.
But I _do_, blast it! Now march!"
When they had traversed the forest, they emerged a little west of
Dolfya, on a stretch of dirt road bordered by maples. The lane seemed
deserted. Here and there in the buttoned sky were the bright dots of
gods passing back and forth between their abodes. Jerran led him
purposefully down the road.
* * * * *
Suddenly a man came bursting out from the maples and ran headlong into
them, knocking the small man back into Revel's arms. It was Dawvys,
clothing disheveled, mouth agape with running. "They are after me!" he
panted. "Ewyo sentenced me to the hounds. I ran, but they're after me!"
Revel hauled out his pick. "Look there," he said, jerking his head
upward. "Concentration of orbs above us."
"They point the way for the squires," grunted Jerran. "I don't hear the
dogs, though."
"Ewyo wants me alive."
"He won't get you!"
"Will I not?" Ewyo himself had stepped quietly out from the trees,
directly in their path. In puce velvet, a great trumpet-mouthed gun in
his hands, he stood beefy and menacing before them. "Do you tell me I
won't, Revel the Mink?" He chuckled icily at the looks of amazement.
"D'you think I wouldn't have rucker spies? D'you think we don't know
about your foolish hideaway in the forest, and couldn't clap our hands
down on all of you in an hour if we wished to?" Two more squires, tall
and red-faced and prominently armed, came out behind him, "Gentles,"
said Ewyo with mock politeness, "I give you Revel, the Mink, and two
minor henchmen."
Revel lifted his pick and came forward, roaring defiance. Ewyo's gun
thrust out at his belly. "Don't die now," said the big squire
pleadingly. "I want you for a fox, Revel."
Jerran snatched a handgun from his belt. One of the squires loosed off
at him instantly, the slug striking the handgun more by accident than
design, sending it spinning as Jerran howled and gripped his numbed
fingers.
"Nice shooting, Rosk," said Ewyo. Revel still stood with his pick
raised, wondering what his chances of a swipe at Ewyo would be. "Put it
down," said the squire. "Drop it!"
"Drop it, Revel," said Jerran. The Mink did so, and Rosk picked it up.
"Come along," said Ewyo then. "I have some excellent torture rooms I'd
like you to inspect. Personally!" With a grin like a weasel's, he
motioned them through the maples. Several others of the gentry came up,
and the three rebels were surrounded and marched off to the great house
of Ewyo of Dolfya.
* * * * *
The room was large, of field stone, set below the house like a mole's
den; portions of the walls were black with age-old soot, from what
hellish fires Revel did not like to guess, and the rafters were grimed
and looked like axe-blades, darkened with dry blood, ready to fall upon
him. One wall had thongs hanging from it, beside a nine-lashed whip
hanging on a post. Candles illumined other instruments, the purpose of
all of which was torture.
"Strap him to the wall," said Ewyo. Two of his servants did so; they
were evil-faced ruckers, fat with good living in the squire's huts.
Rosk, the lean-jawed, red-cheeked squire who was Ewyo's closest friend,
said, "Shall I flay a part of him? The left hand, say, or one foot so
he'll be slow in the hunt?"
"No. I want him hale and hearty." Revel breathed easier. "The gods want
to do something, though. I'm not sure what. I have my orders." Ewyo took
a seat by the wall, gestured his servants out. As the door closed behind
them, a hideous yell echoed in the vault.
Ewyo said comfortably, "They are taking the hide off the back of Dawvys,
in the next chamber. They'll split his fingernails, too, and perhaps
take off an ear. He's the least important of you upstarts, and I don't
care if he's as slow as a slug tomorrow."
Revel thrashed impotently in the leather straps.
Rosk studied the face of the Mink. He opened his gash of a mouth to say
something, and Revel spat accurately into it. "I wish it were my pick,"
he said, as the squire sputtered and backed off.
"Let be, Rosk," said Ewyo, smiling a little. "He'll pay for it
tomorrow." Rosk wiped his lips as the burly squire cocked his head,
listening to an unseen command. Then he walked over, opened the door,
and let in another yelp of agony, followed by a pair of golden orbs,
with their attendant zanphs.
The globes floated down to the level of the Mink's face, and his skin
prickled at the nearness of the energy aura. What now? The long feelers
came darting out, touching his eyelids, his cheeks, and Revel winced,
expecting a searing burn. There was only the tingle. They could regulate
the energy, then, burning an opponent only when necessary. But how
loathsome their nearness was, to a sane and enlightened man who had
discarded the creed of their god-hood!
* * * * *
Now their minds came probing into his. Automatically he erected the
rampart of innocuous thoughts. Yet the probing continued; he could feel
it as a tangible finger of force, needling here, thrusting in there,
pressing aside the thoughts that meant nothing, feeling out not only his
true thoughts, but his memories, his unconscious hopes, the very traits
of character which made him what he was and of which he was scarcely
aware.
[Illustration]
This was no casually suspicious probing, such as an orb might give a man
as it passed him in the mine. This was a brutal wrenching of brain-stuff
that would not be denied. He felt it go into his rebellious brain, poke
and pry, ferret out all he remembered and believed. All the conceit
washed out of Revel the Mink. All the scorn he had felt for these
creatures turned to fear, and the bitter hatred increased a
thousandfold. And he knew that they felt it as it happened.
At last the feelers drew back, and the orbs lifted toward the rafters.
Their zanphs lay watching them, and the two squires stood up
uncertainly. Then Rosk said in a hollow, unreal voice, "This man is to
be guarded closely. He must not be allowed to escape. It would be better
if he were killed now, rather than kept for the hunt. He is the most
dangerous rebel we have ever found."
The Mink realized that the gods were using Rosk as a dummy, speaking
through his lips.
Ewyo said, looking at the globes, that burnt with a dull golden radiance
in the upper gloom, "It would be better if he were hunted down. He is
the 'Savior' the ruck has been waiting for all these years, they think,
and if we slew him in this chamber, his death would never be believed.
He should be hunted before the whole town, and torn to pieces by the
dogs."
The globes, through Rosk's lips, said, "That is so. Hunt him, then; but
if he escapes, you die and your family's status is reduced to that of
the lowest rucker's." They floated toward the door, which Ewyo hastened
to open for them. The sound of Dawvys' groans came in, and Revel
strained again at his bonds.
* * * * *
Ewyo's pale eyes darted toward him. "What a fox you'll make," he
gloated. "We'll run you in my own lands, which are the best for the game
in all this country. We'll run you naked, I think, and allow the ruck to
gather on the hills and watch you scuttle from afar. Their precious
savior! A naked, frightened, harried rabbit, instead of a bold fighting
mink! How'll they like _that_? How much talk of treason will there be
for the next ten years, after _that_? Precious little, Revel of the
Ruck!"
He called his servants. "Take him and bind him with two dozen thick
thongs, and have twenty men sit in a circle round him all night. Give
him plenty of food and water--by Orbs, give him a beaker of my wine!
We'll have a fox tomorrow to remember for a lifetime!"