for this one. That experience was giving him an edge now.
It ended abruptly. Ashe gained the hold he sought. There was a strange,
sharp crack, and the Baldy's large-domed head lolled to one side with a
grotesque freedom that proclaimed the spinal column was broken.
The archeologist remained where he was, breathing heavily. Murdock
reached him in a moment. "Gordon?" he asked anxiously.
The other looked up. "I'm all right." He came to his feet, then turned to
seek their companions.
Eveleen Riordan had emerged from the cover surrounding the clearing,
bringing their ashen-faced prisoner with her. She herself was starkly
white, her face a strained mask, but she knelt at once beside the nearest of
the aliens, then straightened and moved to the next.
She stiffened. "Rossin! Gordon! This one's alive!"
Both men hurried over to her. She glanced up at them. "I don't think
he'll hold on much longer."
Ashe nodded grimly. The arrow, Gordon's own, which had felled the
spacer, protruded from his chest. It had been well placed and had
penetrated deeply. Blood, or the Baldy's equivalent, bubbled on his lips. It
was red, logical enough in an oxygen-breathing being, the archeologist
supposed, but something more exotic would have seemed more
appropriate, a green or black fluid, or perhaps a colorless ichor.
While he was noting these details and his patient's labored breathing,
he worked to free the unfamiliar fastenings holding the tunic closed prior
to attempting to cut away the incredibly tough material.
The Baldy's eyes opened. They focused for a moment. There was no
anger in them or in the weak emotion field the dying starman broadcast,
no fear or hate or bitterness, just contempt, one vast sea of it. The eyes
dulled then, and the last ragged effort to breathe shuddered to a stop.
29
ROSS'S FINGERS CLOSED gently on Eveleen's arm. "Thanks." She only
nodded numbly, and his grip tightened. "Did they hurt you?"
The woman took hold of herself. "No, not permanently, just while it was
going on."
"What happened? What did you do?"
"I don't know, not to be able to explain it." She paused, then went on,
choosing her words carefully. "I knew what those bastards were trying to
do, of course, and I was terrified. Then suddenly, I got red, flaming mad
and just fought back. When I realized I had not only eased the pressure on
us but was actually getting to them, I kept it up. They drove me back fast,
but I'd held out long enough to buy you and Gordon time to jump back
into the war."
That they had won was still a near miracle, Murdock thought. Eveleen
had given them their opening, but luck had been with them, or, rather, a
weakness of the Baldies themselves had been, a weakness his kind might
be able to exploit again. The spacers apparently drew upon their mental
abilities as their weapons of choice. Had they gone for their lasers first,
the story would probably have had a different end. Of a certainty, all four
humans would not be in one piece at this point. The noble barbarian
generally did not fare well when trying to set his sword and bow against
the arms of a vastly technologically superior foe.
Ross bent over the spacer's body and unfastened the loaded utility belt,
which he carefully worked free of the body. "The brain boys will love to get
their hooks on this stuff."
Ross tried to put it around his own waist, but slender as he was, it
would not close on him. Giving up, he clasped it about his wife.
Tarlroc watched them. He had not spoken before, but now he touched
the dead Baldy with the toe of his boot. "So demons are flesh and blood
after all."
His eyes fixed the Terrans. "You are demons yourselves. You beat them
with their own weapon." The Dominionite shuddered. "I know now that
they had never truly tried with me before…"
"We're humans who fought to remain human," Ross responded quickly
to cut off that potentially dangerous line of thought.
"Rossin, come over here, will you?"
Ross glanced in the direction of the archeologist. His voice dropped.
"Eveleen, keep an eye on this pup while I find out what Gordon wants. I
trust him about as far as a three-year-old could toss him." All I Zanthor
had to do was slip away, drive off their deer, and head back to his own
without supplies or support deep in Condor Hall territory.
"Will do," she responded. "I'm not inclined to turn my back on him,
either."
Gordon Ashe was crouched beside the nearer of the two fallen pillars.
"Take a look at this," he told the younger man.
Murdock whistled softly. A lot of repair and replacement work still
remained to be done, but enough had been completed for him to identify
what he was seeing. "The makings of an old Model IB time grid!"
His partner nodded. "They must've copied it straight from that
installation they wrecked. No wonder they ran into trouble. That was set
specifically for Terran conditions with each level leading directly to the
next in our own history. It's almost incredible that they managed to bring
as much through as they did before the whole thing blew up on them."
"That explains why they failed to act when things started to go badly
for Zanthor. They didn't have the gear to take on a more active role, and
he wouldn't give them the materials they needed to reestablish contact
with their own time."
"That's the way I figure it."
"Why didn't their people come for them?"
"They still might, or maybe this was some sort of do-or-die experiment.
I'd guess the latter since they were left to their own devices for so long."
"They never seemed to take an interest in time travel," Ross ventured,
"otherwise they'd have done it long before we got into the act and
probably made sure that we wouldn't."
"Let's hope that doesn't change…"
"Down!"
Murdock dove behind the pillar, dragging his partner with him, as a
fury of blue light ripped through the space the two Terrans had occupied a
moment before.
The partisan leader swore. The fifth Baldy! Like a damn fool, he had
forgotten him, and now they would all pay for his failure. This one seemed
to recognize his associates' error. He had come in with his laser, and the
humans were no more than fixed targets in this open place. The spacer
was not even bothering to conceal himself. He knew he would fry them all
before they could so much as raise their bows.
Suddenly, Tarlroc I Zanthor sprang. The laser discharged, caught him
squarely in the trunk, but momentum carried him forward. The
Dominionite struck the blue-clad figure, his hands closing over the
starman's throat even as he bore him to the ground.
The weapon fired again, striking at point-blank range. I Zanthor's body
jerked and stiffened, but his fingers only tightened under the lash of the
shock.
It was over by the time the Terrans reached the pair. Even then,
Tarlroc's hands retained their hold. Ross turned him clumsi
ly despite that,
endeavoring to be as gentle as possible.
The Dominionite's eyes flickered open. Murdock felt sick. There seemed
to be nothing left of him, and he was still alive…
"The demon?" I Zanthor's lips formed the words. No sound came.
"Dead. You got him."
A grotesque shadow of a smile. "I avenged…"
He was gone. The Time Agent wrenched himself to his feet and quickly
crossed the clearing to distance himself from his comrades.
They left him be for a few moments, then Ashe joined him. "Ross?"
"A brave devil in the end."
"Yes."
Murdock turned to look at the most recent scene of carnage on the
battlefield. His mouth twisted. "He was me," he said tightly. "If the Project
hadn't grabbed me, or if I'd made a few wrong decisions at the start…"
Gordon looked closely at him. He took a deep breath. "Don't flatter
yourself, my friend. You were a real little punk, right enough, and far too
smart for your own good, but as a budding villain, you were never even in
the same universe as I Zanthor. He lacked the experience and maybe the
talent to put his potential into action, but otherwise he was of one cut
with his father. You're capable of hate, but not indifference, nor, I think, of
cruelty."
The younger man gripped himself. The Baldies were finished, for this
alone in enemy country. "Are we about done here?"
"I'd like to check out these domes. After that, we'll have to grab
whatever we can carry and torch the rest." The archeologist sighed. "A lot
of folks back on the Project are going to be very disappointed, but we can't
risk leaving anything that might be of use either to our star-roving
acquaintances or to Condor Hall."
30
THE WAR DID not end immediately, but Condor Hall's fall was assured
by the slaying of its Ton. Neither of Zanthor I Yoroc's remaining sons nor
any of the mercenary commanders he had hired had the force of
personality necessary to bind the rest to him, and none was strong enough
to seize control by force of arms, thus reducing the invading front to
several small, distinct armies, each only uncertainly bound to the others.
They continued to stand together, for only thus could they hope, as they
at first did, to salvage anything out of what would otherwise be a totally
disastrous campaign, but the sense of disorganization in their leadership
did nothing to reassure or inspire troops already worn and discouraged
after a winter of great cold and lean supplies, and the hard-pressing
Confederates gained steadily against them.
The partisans continued to ride and fight, albeit not so frequently now,
for while the front was still situated beyond the Corridor, there would be
enemy activity in the lowlands.
That need would soon be lifted from them. It was but a matter of time,
a few weeks at most, before Condor Hall itself became the battlefield,
bringing home at last some of the horror its legions had carried to so
many of its erstwhile neighbors.
Eveleen perched herself on the end of Ross's desk. "Luroc reports that
the Tons are hotly discussing the division of spoil," she said to draw him
out, although he, of course, was better aware of that fact than was she.
"They'd do better to wait until it's won."
She smiled. That was the response she should have expected from him.
Her eyes darkened. "Do you believe they'll honor their promises to us?"
she asked him abruptly. "We're numerically much weaker than the least of
them."
"They'll give us our due. Ton I Carlroc and most of those with him
aren't men to violate their word, given or implied, and we have firm oaths
from them."
"Most, but not all," the woman observed. "According to you, I Loran
doesn't trust some of them."
"Probably with excellent reason from what I've seen of them, but don't
worry. They'll walk the line. They know that Jeran A Murdoc'll squash
them otherwise, even if their compatriots don't. Mercenaries take a very
dim view of having any of their own kind cheated out of rightly won spoil
since that would be a rather bad precedent to have established. Luroc's
made it clear more than once that I'm to come into a good part of
anything Sapphirehold gains."
The woman sighed in relief. "I'm glad to hear that. I was afraid we'd
have to face further danger at the hands of our present allies once Condor
Hall at last yields."
"Don't you trust anyone, Eveleeni EA Riordan?" Ross asked in some
amusement.
"Given Terra's history, no, I don't," she responded curtly.
Eveleen smiled softly, her former humor forgotten even as it had been
vented. "Plans are already being made for rebuilding the village and then
the keep. That'll be both strong and fair when it's complete, better than
the old one was and lots more comfortable."
"A joy to behold, I'm sure," he responded sarcastically.
His voice had become rough, almost angry. She looked at him in
surprise, but the man made no answer to her unspoken question. He came
to his feet and strode away from the desk to stand staring out the window.
She went to him. "Ross, don't you want to see a normal lifeway resumed
here?"
"Of course, I do. You know that."
"What's wrong, then?" she pleaded. "You've been shadowed so often
these last weeks, when the rest of us are growing ever more hopeful."
He looked at her, through her. "A failure of nerve, Lieutenant," he
responded at last. "Only that."
Suddenly, he whirled toward the door. "Ride with me!"
The woman followed him. The partisans always kept springdeer
saddled and at ready, and she raced for the place where hers was tethered,
whispering a prayer of gratitude that it was yet early enough in the day
that Spark would be her mount. No other had a hope of keeping pace with
Firehand's doe if he drove her hard. Murdock was waiting for her now at
the edge of the camp, but she doubted he would continue to do so once she
was actually mounted.
Ashe had seen his partner cast himself into the saddle and hurried
toward him. That some deep trouble was on him would have been patent
even to one knowing him far less well.
Eveleen stopped him with a firm shake of her head as she swung herself
onto her buck's back. Ross would never speak if two of them were present.
She was unsure of her own ability to win confidence from him, although
he had asked her to come with him and she could already make a pretty
good guess as to the whip lashing him. Ross Murdock had to decide, and
decide soon, whether to cast his lot with this Dominion of the past where
he had proven he could work and rise far or return to Terra and the
Project. This was not Karara's case. Murdock had not been altered. He
had merely expanded, become aware of new potential, but the difficulty of
the choice he faced was in no way lessened by that growth in self and
knowledge.
Once he saw that his wife was mounted and prepared to follow him,
Ross turned
Lady Gay toward the trees and gave her the command for
speed, as if flight could free him of that which was driving him, sunder his
weakness from him.
The man did not draw rein or slacken pace until he came to that high
place where he and Eveleen had stood together so many months before. He
dismounted there and waited for her on the crest.
The world below and around him was wonderful with the gentle
sunlight and soft, pale greens of a still young spring, but no trace of its joy
touched him.
He heard the weapons expert's buck approach and halt near Lady Gay
but did not turn to watch her.
He felt rather than saw her come up beside him.
Eveleen waited quietly for some seconds to give him an opportunity to
collect himself, but he seemed unable to begin.
"Ross," she said softly in the end, "please let me try to help. I can't bear
to see you torturing yourself like this."
He did not respond at first but finally shrugged. "As I told you before, I
thought I had a proper spine. It appears I don't."
"Ross…"
He turned to her. "When we were here the last time, I asked you to stay
with me."
"Yes. Now you don't want to remain?"
His eyes closed. "Heart, mind, and soul!" He pressed the fingers of his
hands against the lids until the pressure became painful. "It's
Sapphirehold that I want, Eveleen, and I can't have that. What I said to
Allran was right. I am a mercenary, and soon there'll be nothing more for
me to do here, no place for me."
Suddenly, the too-bright eyes fixed on her. "You knew it'd be like this,
or Gordon did?"
Her head lowered. "If it was Sapphirehold itself and not Dominion in
general that was drawing you, yes. We were hoping for the last, Ross. Both
of us wanted you to be spared learning that part of a mercenary's
existence, at least for a while."
Her eyes raised again and met his. "You can still make it in that work.
You're good, and with any kind of luck at all, you'd win a Commandant's
rank in a very few years."
His mouth twisted. "I find something basically unappealing about
battering my fellow creatures for fun and profit." He scowled. "I seem to
require a genuine purpose for what I do."
Murdock shrugged. "I couldn't stay anyway. I blew it, or we blew it,
here, where folks were sympathetic to us. It'd happen again, and maybe
Terra'd get wiped out as a result. We'd most likely disappear ourselves at