Eloise Page 15

  "The units!" The door of the store was open wide, Arbush delving inside where compact mechanisms hung on brackets; smoothly rounded and shaped metal fitted with an elaborate harness. "We've got them-but there's no time."

  Dumarest thrust him aside. In a row, held in clips, stood a line of squat cylinders fitted with grips, a movable projection. He snatched one, saw the orifice at one end, the sights on the barrel and found the release. A weapon which, of necessity, would be rendered harmless before being stored. Unloaded, perhaps, certainly uncocked. He dragged at the projection, felt it slide, heard a soft click.

  "Down!" he shouted. "All of you, down!"

  He hit the floor as they obeyed, cradling the weapon, aiming it at the Monitor who had fallen and was now regaining its feet; closing his finger on the trigger as the sights came into line. A thread of fire spat from the muzzle reaching towards the torso, to dissolve in a gush of flame, a roaring explosion.

  A second shot and the other Monitor joined the first, lying in broken wreckage; shattered plates blasted open to reveal inner mechanisms, the freed liquids of a crystal container, the pulped mass of the residual brain.

  "God!" Eloise rose, hands clamped to her ears, a bit of blood showing at one nostril. "That was close, Earl. You damned near burst my eardrums."

  "You'll live. Get into one of the units."

  "What?" She had forgotten the hands at her ears. Dropping them, she came towards him. Irritably Dumarest gestured her aside.

  "Don't stand in the line of fire. It won't take long for more Monitors to get here. Now get into one of those flying units. Adara! You know how they are used. Instruct us."

  Basically they were simple; a power-pack activating anti-gravity plates, straps which went over the shoulders, around the torso, up between the thighs. The lift was from the base of the pack, controlled by a simple switch. Direction was governed by movements of the body.

  "First you lift," said Adara. "When you get high enough, you throw your head and upper body forward. There are automatic compensating plates so that you don't fall. If you can manage to remain straight, with your head in the direction you want to go, you'll get maximum velocity."

  "And if you want to twist, face back in the direction from which you came?"

  "You can do it, Earl. You'll have to adjust the lift, of course; otherwise you'll keep rising." Adara made a helpless gesture. "Mostly it's a matter of practice."

  Which the Monitors had and they did not. And there was no time to do more than test, to see if the units held power.

  Already the Monitors were arriving, tall shapes glinting as they strode down the corridors leading to the gate. From the store Dumarest handed each one a gun, tucking another beneath his harness. Adara looked blankly at the one in his hands.

  "What do I do with it, Earl?"

  "You cock it, so. Then you point it at what you want to hit and squeeze that trigger. Now outside, all of you!"

  The last to go, he paused at the door; turning, the weapon leveled in his hands. The Monitors were close; fragments whined, striking the wall to one side, smoke and flame tainting the air as he blasted them to ruin. Again he fired, sending missiles into the open store, filling it with destruction; explosions occurred as the contents erupted in a burst of energy which sent metal running in a molten tide.

  The other units ruined, the weapons; time gained as they got away.

  Outside the cold struck like a knife, numbing exposed cheeks, hands and fingers. Dumarest donned thick gloves and hit the control, rising with the others, passing them, slowing as he made an adjustment.

  "Arbush, stay close!"

  The minstrel was high and drifting to one side. With a jerk he twisted in mid-air, legs lifting as he leveled out in an upward-sloping glide. Eloise, with her dancer's agility, had quickly mastered the elementary system of control. She reached for the plump shape, caught at a strap and brought him into line. Adara was far to the south.

  "Catch him!" Dumarest caught up with the others and gripped the woman's arm, nodding towards Adara. "Keep up with him. Hold his hand, but don't let him get away. We have to stay together."

  She twisted, smiling.

  "Let him go, Earl. We don't need him."

  "He needs us."

  "I didn't mean forget him. We just don't need what he can teach us. These things are easy to handle."

  For her, perhaps, but not for the minstrel. He darted from side to side; over-compensating, dipping to rise, to twist. Dumarest passed over him, gripped his other arm.

  "We'll hold him between us, Eloise. Now let's get Adara."

  He had slowed and was waiting. Together, like a flock of ungainly birds, hands clasped for mutual aid, they rose up and flew away from the city.

  Eloise laughed as she saw it shrink, to dwindle and lose itself in the wilderness.

  "The end, Earl. Five years of hell and now I'm free. Free. And I owe it all to you."

  "We're not clear yet, Eloise."

  "We will be," she said confidently. "And when we are, I'll show you what gratitude really means. What a woman in love can do for her man. When we're alone I'll-"

  A gust of wind drowned the rest of her words and Dumarest was glad of it. Adara would be listening, but more important was the woman's attitude of mind. While she dreamed of the future, she would tend to ignore the dangers of the present.

  Releasing his grip Dumarest turned and looked towards the rear, seeing nothing. As he resumed his former position Arbush muttered, "Earl, it's damned cold."

  It was freezing. The wind was against them, a frigid blast which robbed their bodies of heat. Flying took little physical effort and they were inviting hypothermia, despite the muffling garments.

  "Well land after a while," said Dumarest. "Walk on for a time and warm ourselves up."

  "When?"

  "Soon." It would have to be soon. Adara was hunched, trembling; Eloise now silent, her face a deathly white. Softened by the city, they were ill-suited to rigor. "In an hour."

  An hour of flight; then twenty minutes in which they stumbled over the ice, beating numbed hands, generating heat by the activity of their bodies; then into the air again always into the wind, always heading towards the south.

  And, at dusk, came the snow.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Arbush chuckled, rubbing his hands over the smoking glow of burning rag smeared with oil, the light dancing on his face, the thrown-back hood.

  "Remember the last time we camped like this, Earl? Hurt, you nearly dead, down to the last drop of brandy? We found a cave then and had a candle of sorts. Now we've got luxury."

  Eloise said, "You must be joking."

  "No, I mean it. A dry cave, no wind to speak of, food, a fire, some wine, good clothes; what else do you need?"

  "A song."

  "Sleep. We've had a hard day." Dumarest glanced to where Adara lay slumped on the floor. He was breathing deeply, his eyelids jerking as if he dreamed. Lifting his boot Dumarest poised the heel over the fire, then changed his mind. The glow was small, the mouth of the cave blocked with the units and packs; the light would not show outside. And it would be a convenience if they had to move fast, a comfort for anyone if they woke.

  Eloise, perhaps. Adara. The man had remained silent as they ate, nursing his food, his wine; a man lost in the maze of unpleasant thoughts. Brooding over what he had heard, or anticipating what was to come, the new life he would have to lead. Well, he would learn to survive or he would succumb.

  And there were other things to worry about. The flying units-Dumarest had no idea how long they would last. With the wind against them, they had made small progress and the units could fail. A fact which he had recognized, but had been forced to accept. As he had been forced to lose the opportunity of questioning Camolsaer, which he would have liked.

  To ask if it had known the whereabouts of Earth.

  It could, possibly, have known. Those who had built it long ago might have fed the knowledge to its banks. A few more minutes and the answer coul
d have been his. But those few minutes might have cost him his life. Monitors had been in the lower region. Special units which had ignored the imposed directive, if the directive had been imposed at all. Machine or not, Camolsaer would have obeyed the dictates of survival.

  He jerked, suddenly aware that he had dozed; aware too of something beside him, of the warm pressure of lips on his cheek.

  "Earl! Earl, my darling! Earl!"

  Eloise, awake, her breath warm. A whisper which he matched.

  "What do you want?"

  "You, my darling. You. Earl, how long must I wait?"

  Her cheeks were flushed, the skin febrile, the eyes liquid with passion.

  "Earl, I love you. You know that."

  "So?"

  "I need you." She saw the glance of his eyes and thrust her face before his own. "The others? What the hell does it matter? Anyway they are asleep. Even if they weren't, I wouldn't care."

  "Maybe not," he said gently. "But I would."

  "Why? Are you ashamed? No, you've never been ashamed of anything. Shy then? No, not that. Then what, Earl? Don't you want me?"

  "What I want isn't too important. Not just now. The thing is we're a group and we have to help each other to survive. This is no way to do it."

  "Because of Adara? Are you afraid of him, Earl?"

  "And if I said that I was?"

  "You'd be lying." Her voice strengthened a little. "You're not afraid of anything that walks or talks or lives, on any world anywhere. You don't know the meaning of fear. You can't. You're that kind of a man."

  "If you think that then you're a fool," he said harshly. "You're not talking about bravery, but stupidity. There are a lot of things I'm afraid of. One of them is flying close to a man with a grudge against me and a deranged mind. A man with a gun, which he might decide to use at any moment without warning."

  "Then take it from him."

  "And demean his pride?" He added, as she made no answer. "A man doesn't need a gun to kill, Eloise. And his target needn't be myself."

  "You're thinking of me," she said quickly. "That means you care for me. Then why not leave him, Earl? Get rid of the danger? Kill him if you have to. You could do it."

  "Yes," he admitted. "I could do it if I had to. And if he was hurt, dying and in pain I would. But tell me, Eloise, just what has he done to you that you want to see him dead?"

  "Done? Why nothing, Earl. He-"

  "Saved your life." Dumarest glanced to where he lay. Quietly he added, "When you think about it, Eloise, it seems a poor reward."

  * * * * *

  Adara had been dreaming; a nightmare in which he ran from something terrible, straining every muscle and yet making no progress. And faces had watched him as he ran, laughing faces which had turned and kissed, to face him again with cynical amusement.

  Eloise, whom he had lost.

  Dumarest, who had won her affection.

  He stirred and opened his eyes. The fire was a bare glow in the darkness, an ember which threw a low, ruddy light in which shapes rested, shadows thick around and between. Two of them seemed to be lying close together, too close; and with sudden jealousy he added fuel to the ember, blowing it to life, turning to verify his suspicions.

  He had been mistaken. Dumarest was alone; the impression that another lay at his side was a trick of the light. And yet surely there had been the murmur of voices, the rustle of movement? Or had that been, like the smiles and kisses, a part of his dream?

  Tiredly he looked around. Arbush was a mound, his face a blur. Eloise was another, her back towards him, a tangle of hair falling over her hood. He looked again at Dumarest; the stranger who had come to ruin his life, the violent man whom the woman had chosen.

  Violence, why did she love it so much?

  And, if she did, and he should prove to be the more violent of both men, would she again turn to him with love in her eyes?

  If he should kill Dumarest?

  He felt himself tense at the alien concept and fought the ingrained conditioning of the past. Old habits had been replaced by new, and the man himself had told him that he had nothing to lose. To kill then, to strike and prove himself the master; to take the fruits of victory, the love he had known.

  And the man himself had provided the means. He turned and reached for one of the weapons; lifting it to stare along the barrel at the hard face, hard even in sleep. A simple pressure and it would be done. But he had seen the thing work, the destruction it caused. To fire it in this confined space would be to kill them all.

  Carefully he placed it aside and again studied the sleeping man.

  The eyes, perhaps; his fingers gouging, blinding, gaining time in which to kill at his leisure. He sweated at the thought of it; how could he ever rob another of his vision? The throat then; his fingers tightening, stopping the breath. Or the gun, not fired, but used as a club. His hand crept towards it.

  "Try it," said Arbush quietly, "and you'll be dead before you know it."

  "You know?"

  "I saw."

  "But the gun? I-"

  "You hadn't cocked it. If you had, the noise would have woken Earl at once." The minstrel rose from where he lay, hunching as he warmed his hands at the fire. "He looks asleep, and he is, but only as an animal sleeps. One move towards him, a touch, and he will waken ready to kill. I recognize the signs."

  "Does he always sleep like that?"

  "Not always, he's a man, not a beast; but he's learned to survive. And you worry him. Did you know that the woman wanted to leave you behind?"

  "No! She couldn't. She-"

  "She's in love with Earl. A woman in love is rarely sane and never to be blamed. A man either. Earl knows that, which is why you are here."

  "He promised me that he wouldn't take her." Adara looked from one to the other. "He swore to me that he would leave her."

  "And he will. Earl isn't looking for a woman. He is searching for something more important than that."

  "Earth, she told me."

  "Earth." Arbush sighed. "A dream, perhaps, but one which rules his life. Which gives him the reason for living, perhaps; we should all have a reason for that. Once I thought I had it, but for me the dream didn't last I had the gift of music and the ability to make a song. Small things some would say; to me they were the gate to adventure, the means to achieve paradise. In a way I found it. For a few weeks it was real. In the city was everything I had ever longed for. I tasted it, reveled in it; now it is gone. But, my friend, such is life."

  "Endless disappointment?"

  "In a way, as women are. Each offers untold joys and each, somehow, fails to deliver what we expect. And always there are surprises. The plain one who is passed by at a glance can, when passion rules her, dominate the universe of a man's being. The one who is lovely to look at can be as cold as the ice around us. And, after all, what is a woman? Surely she is something which can be shared? Once you had her, now she yearns for another, but have you lost all? Once Earl has gone, what then? She will still remain."

  Adara said, slowly, "I wanted to kill him."

  "You are not the first."

  "I wanted to take his life because of Eloise." Adara shook his head, baffled. Too much had happened too fast. "Tell me, am I mad?"

  "You are tired," said the minstrel. "And maybe a little feverish. At such times, thoughts are rarely clear. What you need is some wine." He reached for the bottle which he had warmed against his bulk. "Drink, my friend, and relax. All will be well."

  * * * * *

  They left at dawn, rising into air which was clear and crisp; the snow which had fallen during the night a soft blanket of whiteness over the rough terrain. The wind had changed, now blowing from the north in a steady stream; a shift to their advantage. As was the practice they had now gained. No longer was it necessary to lock their hands.

  An added advantage for Dumarest who often rose high above the others, to turn and search the empty wastes behind; to dive, gaining speed as he caught up.

  "You're worried."
Eloise glided to his side, one hand reaching out to grip his arm, a lever to draw her close. "You keep looking back. Why, Earl?"

  "A precaution."

  "You think we could be followed?" It was something she had never considered. "But how, Earl, and why? The Monitors wouldn't move without orders from Camolsaer and you wrecked it."

  "I damaged it," be corrected. "And it was minor damage, at best."

  Destruction easily repaired and the machine could have rerouted information channels; cut the destroyed mechanisms from its operational circuits.

  She said, "I know more about it than you do, Earl. I lived with it longer. Camolsaer takes no interest in anything beyond the city. We are well beyond it and so it will ignore us. The Monitors too."

  "Perhaps. I hope so."

  "But you aren't sure?" She twisted her head and looked back, seeing nothing but the endless expanse of ice and snow over which they flew. "You're thinking of it as a man," she decided. "A living thing wanting revenge, but we're talking about a machine. At first, maybe, it would have tried to get us; but not now. We're too far away."

  A comfort he couldn't share. To survive, the city had to remain in isolation; the reason the Monitors hunted any Krim who came too near. They had made slow progress yesterday and had rested during the night. Monitors were not hampered by the limitations of flesh.

  "Earl," she said abruptly. "About last night. What you said. I guess I was wrong."

  "About what?"

  "You know." She pointed to where Adara flew, a little to the front. "But I didn't mean what you thought I did. I was just worried about you, that's all."

  "Not him?"

  "Not then. I didn't think. But this morning he was acting strange. He kept looking at me and didn't smile and barely ate. Could he be sick, Earl?"

  "Maybe. Go over to him and keep him company. Try and cheer him up." Dumarest glanced back and down, as the minstrel called to him. "Don't get too far ahead."

  Arbush was in trouble. He writhed in his harness, sweating as he manipulated his body, plump hands at the switch.

  "The damned thing's failing, Earl. I've got it on full lift, but I can't keep up."

  Dumarest looked down. The terrain had leveled, broken ground lying ahead, the blanket of snow thinning; it was broken by ice-capped teeth, bare rock showing like grey scabs. A bad place to land.