Jo Clayton - Fire in the Sky

Shadith stopped Brйou, waited for Maorgan to ride up beside her.

“How long is this Pass?”

“Over a day’s ride. We’ll reach watchtower in about an hour. There’s water and shelter. We’ll camp there and start on again tomorrow morning.”

“Watchtower? That mean guards from the Vale?”

He rubbed at his eyes, gave her a weary smile. “Yes.”

By the time the sun was low in the west, the wind sweeping down from the peaks was cold and piercing, crawling in every crevice in Shadith’s clothing, biting to the bone. Her body was born to a warmer climate, hot and humid with few cold days. Despite the thermal underwear, she was shivering and unhappy by the time the track leveled and they moved into the mouth of the Pass.

Some distance ahead she saw a massive tower built into the side of the mountain. The narrow window slits were a pale yellow against the dark granite of the walls; she brushed at the tower with, the mind touch. Two lives in there. The guards Maorgan mentioned. She sighed with relief, closed her eyes and slumped in the saddle. Just a little longer and we can rest.

After a moment, though, she straightened. Can’t let down too soon. Right, let’s see who’s with us… She swept the mountainsides, reached as high in the air as she could.

No sign of the spy. The blob was behind them now, still too far to count the individuals in it. She swept the mindtouch across the tower again, more energy in it this time, got a clearer picture of those inside…

Without stopping or looking around, she said, “Maorgan, is there any way out of this defile?”

He slipped off the caцpa’s back, tossed the reins to Danor and strode forward to walk at her knee. He looked up at her, one brow raised. “Not that I know of. Why?”

“We’ve got a problem. Ambush. Them in the tower, they’re choreks, not Vale guards. Keep looking at me, hm? I don’t want them getting itchy. They’re that pair who’ve been riding ahead of us.”

“You sure?”

She bit back the snarl, said, “Yes. I’m sure. Waiting for us in the tower because they knew I’d expect someone to be there and not get bothered by it.” She wiped her hand across her face. “We need time…” Still carefully facing forward, she called, “Danor!”

There was silence a moment, then he said wearily, “What?”

“Ambush ahead, they’re watching us, we need an excuse to stop. Throw a fit, scream, whatever you think will do it.”

Silence. The scrape/clop of the caцpas’ hooves on the gritty track, the whuff of their breathing. A hoarse cry filled with pain and fear.

Shadith gulped though she’d been expecting something, then she swung from the saddle and ran with Maorgan to Danor’s side.

The old man was swaying in the saddle, his mouth stretched wide, his trained voice producing a tortured sound that filled the hollow between the mountains and bounced off the peaks.

Maorgan cut the ropes that bound Danor to the saddle. He and Shadith got the old man down and stretched out on the road.

Shadith squatted beside him, touched his face. “You all right?”

Danor grinned up at her, the first time she’d seen his face lighting with laughter. “You wanted a fuss.”

She grinned back. “Well, I must say it was a noble fuss.” She took the cup Maorgan handed her, held it out. “You can sit up on your own. The caцpas block their view.”

He pushed up, wincing, his face paling at the pain and the pull of his weakness. “You’re sure, Shadowsong?”

“Like a pup knows his mama’s scent. They’ve been with us too many days for me to mistake them. A moment. _I want to check something.”

She reached back along the road, brushed across the blur. It wasn’t a blur any more. A band of men. Mounted. Getting closer. She teased out the different life fires. Ten… fifteen… twenty. Twenty! Gods! And moving up fast. We’ve got an hour. Maybe.

“Those men I told you about? They’ve stopped hovering and are coming at a trot. They’ll have pellet guns and cutters. Both of which outreach my stunner.” She glanced from Maorgan to Danor and saw they were waiting for her to tell them what to do. They were musicians, used to being welcome wherever they went. It was something she’d noted before; ordinarily there’d be a lot to admire about this Eolt and Ard managed peace. Right now, however…

She looked around. The pass had high steep walls. There was a lot of scree right here and some scrubby brush that grew in lines and patches wherever it could get a foothold. That gave her an idea.

“Maorgan,, unpack one of the tents, start putting it up. Danor, start yelling again, throw in a few loud groans, go quiet and repeat.”

“And you?”

“While you’re holding their attention, I’m going to try wiggling through those bits of brush till I’m in stunner range of the tower. I’ll try to take out those choreks so we can get in there alive. The walls will give us some protection from the cutters, especially if they have to stay back, and they’ll-make the pellet guns close to useless. I figure we can hole up there until Medon Vale wakes up and sends help. All right. Let’s get started.” She bent and began pulling off her boots.

Maorgan grimaced. “Your puppets hear and obey.” He began working on the ropes.

Danor gulped at the water in the cup, cleared his throat and yelled again, pain and anger and endless sorrow embedded in the ululating cry.

The sound sent shudders along Shadith’s spine as she shifted the stunner around to the middle of her back and crept away from the road, keeping larger boulders between her and the tower when she could, slipping along in the shadow of the brush.

A fold in the cliff occluded the tower. She got to her feet and moved as quickly and lightly as she could, stepping from boulder to boulder in the long slanting landfall. Pebbles and coarse sand slipped into new slides or bounced down the steep slope. She tried to ignore them since there was nothing she could do about them. When she reached the edge of the outthrust; she dropped to her stomach and eased her head around it. There was a patch of brush in a damp spot snuggled up against a vertical section of mother stone. She snaked round the fold, crouched in the shadow, and scowled at the tower.

The window slits told the tale all too clearly. Thick walls., A good four feet through. She closed her eyes. Two heat sources. No change there. Sense of impatience mixed with gloating. No puzzlement or alarm. Good. That meant they didn’t notice me leaving.

She chewed on her lip a moment, decided she wasn’t close enough. Dropping onto hands and knees, she began edging forward again, moving more carefully now because she had neither distance nor a fold of stone to protect her. Behind her, she could hear Danor creating his noise. He was enjoying himself, but dropping into too much of a pattern. She ground her teeth and tried to hurry. The choreks were bound to see through that any time now.

She set her foot carelessly, shoved against a stone sitting in precarious balance on a smaller stone and sent it rumbling and bouncing down the slope, knocking other stones loose. She swore under her breath and crawled on, hurrying hurrying knocking more stones loose hurrying to get close enough…

A spear of light flashed from a window slit, hit the heartrock just behind her, sending drops of melted granite flying. A drop landed on her leg, she shook it off and scrambled on. The brush behind her started smoking, she could hear flames crackle and pop.

The next try was closer, and the chorek had figured out that he didn’t need to take his finger off the sensor, just wave the rod back and forth. She stayed ahead of the sweep, but just barely, dived behind the largest boulder she could find and brought the stunner around.