Orbit 2

Where was Kruger vulnerable? What force could he align against Kruger? He had touched Kruger once only, and that was by a refusal to act. That was negative. Now what was the positive side? What act, what unthinking, nameless act. . and the fit stole over him and he took up the pigeons and left the house and walked through the dark grove to the cairn where Silva moaned in sleep and did what there was to do and returned and slept, to wake unremembering.

Day was advanced when Kinross came out of his house. He walked up the valley, crossing over the little stream to avoid the village, and picked two overripe mangoes, which he carried through the grove to the cairn. Silva was rocking and wailing thinly in an extremity of woe. To the right a knot of silent villagers clustered.

On the cairn he saw the headless pigeons with blood-dabbled feathers and the black, sticky blood on the stones. Fingers tugged at his memory and he frowned, refusing to think what this strange thing might mean. He flung down his mangoes into the blood spots with force enough to burst them and said aloud, “For you, Mary.” Then he stared arrogantly at the knot of villagers and strode away. But he was reluctant to emerge from the grove, prowling its tangled shades far from path and stream for upwards of an hour. Then he walked back toward the village.

A strange silence held the land. No air moved. The villagers were drifting toward the grove in small groups, without the customary singing and talking. He heard no birdcalls. Then, as he neared the village, he heard a woman’s voice strident with grief and anger. It was Mary.

“What kind of Kelly rules do you keep here, you and your Kruger, you smooth-faced blood drinker?”

Then von Lankenau’s voice, soothing and indistinct behind the huts, and then Mary again, agonized, “Oh, my lovely white sea pigeons! Poor dears, poor dears, I’ll take them all away with me. You’ll pay! You’ll pay!”

She broke into a loud humming and came into view, running toward the hillside. Her long hair streamed behind her and her once lovely face was frightfully twisted and gaping with menace. Kinross noticed with another start that the black grotesques from the hillside had invaded the valley floor and were all about the village. They gave way before the infuriated woman and all at once the birds became vocal, deafeningly so, clouds of them swooping at the black things with squawks and screeches.

Kinross stood in vagueness, looking around. Never had he seen the sun of Krugerworld more warm and smiling, the flowers more voluptuous, the trees more heavily laden with bright fruit. At his feet earth tilted and crumbled and a red-capped mushroom emerged, visibly rising and unfolding. Von Lankenau, his shaven face set in grave lines, came toward Kinross from out of the cluster of huts. Before he could speak, Garcia shouted from the direction of the grove and they saw him running toward them.

“Something’s haywire with the villagers,” he told von Lankenau, panting. “They won’t follow ritual. They won’t obey me.”

“What are they doing?” von Lankenau asked.

“Nothing. Just standing still. But I don’t like the feeling of things in there, don’t ask me why.”

“Something of truly enormous significance has happened, Joe. I do not know what… I was about to ask Mr. Kinross for his ideas. Those pigeons. . but you are right, we must get the villagers back to their huts and to the fruit groves. Perhaps Mr. Kinross will help us.”

“How do you know I won’t play Pied Piper and lead them clear out of Krugerworld?” Kinross asked, his thoughts beginning to mesh again.

“Perhaps, now, that would be merciful. I truly do not know, Mr. Kinross. But let us see what may be done.”

A distant scream came out of the dark grove, repeated, a volley of screams.

“Silva’s voice!” Garcia exclaimed. “For Dios, what now?”

He started running back toward the grove. Kinross and von Lankenau ran after him. The screaming ceased abruptly.

In the clearing, villagers stood in silent groups on either side of the stone platform and in small groups elsewhere. On the cairn lay the body of the old Portygee, looking fragile and collapsed. His head was crushed horribly.

Garcia swore softly in Spanish. Von Lankenau said musingly, “Now, for as long as Krugerworld shall last. . I must manage to understand. I must!” A dark memory itched in Kinross’ fingers.

“Kinross,” came a whisper from close behind their heads. The men whirled as one, to see nothing.

The whisper continued, still behind their heads so that they whirled again, vainly. “Thank you, Kinross, for teaching me how to relieve my thirst. My terrible thirst. I will purge my world of thirst, Kinross, with your service.”

Von Lankenau gripped Kinross’ arm with iron fingers. “What have you done, Kinross?” he pleaded. “Tell me. I must know. What have you done?”

“You’ll never know,” Kinross said harshly. “Look behind us.”

The three men turned round again. The villagers had compacted into a mob with a concave front that was slowly closing in on them. Von Lankenau ordered them back in whiplash tones, to no effect. He turned to Kinross, his face pale and grim.

“Command them under the name of the Herr Kruger, if you can, Mr. Kinross. We have no other chance.”

“Stop, damn you, in the name of Kruger!” Kinross shouted. His hands were sweating and his heart was in his throat.

They did not stop. The horns of the crescent met on the far side of the cairn. The solid front of the villagers, coming on in a slow amoeboid shuffle of hundreds of feet, was ten yards away. Kinross saw the girl Milagros, teeth bared. They had seconds only before, as Kinross somehow knew, they would join Silva on the bloody stones.

“Quickly, Kinross,” von Lankenau said. “Tell me while there is time. What have you done?”

“Heart’s truth,” Kinross whispered, “I don’t know. I don't know!”

“Let’s give ’em a fight,” Garcia growled, then, “Hey! They’ve stopped!”

A cloud of birds came over the clearing, flashing in many colors, circling and shrieking. Brush crackled and water splashed in the dark grove. Then something went wrong at the back of the mob of villagers. It shuddered and broke into fragments which crept rapidly to either side, opening an aisle through its midst.

It was Kerbeck, floating hair and beard ablaze with sunlight. Rags of clothing fluttered on the great, bronzed limbs. Sweeps of his massive arms knocked villagers a dozen feet through the air. Booming and buzzing, wide blue eyes two-dimensional and unknowing, he passed the three wonder-stricken men. In his wake ran Mary Chadwick, birds about her head.

“He’s going in to kill Kruger’s body,” she told them, coming to a halt. The frightful malevolence still rode in her features and Kinross’ fear was not wholly relieved.

“Madre de Dios!” Garcia gasped.

They watched the giant Swede round the stone platform and head for the cave. From the darkness floated a gobbling howl that sent a hair-bristling shudder down Kinross’ back. The great form of Bo Bo emerged to block the entrance.

Kerbeck ran forward with a shout. The Negro ran to meet him with his bubbling squall. The two massive figures shocked together and the world seemed to tremble. They swayed, stumbling back and forth, locked in furious embrace, and a great sighing moan went up from the fragmented mob of villagers. Kinross felt a hand on his arm and glimpsed von Lankenau’s white, rapt face beside him.

Black giant with white strove and roared and howled and stumbled. They cannoned into the cairn and destroyed it, scattering and treading the stones underfoot like pebbles. They splashed into the creek and out of it, roiling the clear water to dark turbidity. Both giants were increasing in stature, to Kinross’ eyes, clearly superhuman now. The force of their roaring and howling beat down on him with physical pressure. He saw Mary Chadwick on his right, blue-violet fire blazing in her eyes, fierce red lips parted eagerly.