by Andre Norton
13
The rasp of something wet and rough, persistent against his cheek;Travis tried to turn his head to avoid the contact and was answered by aburst of pain which trailed off into a giddiness, making him fearanother move, no matter how minor. He opened his eyes and saw thepointed ears, the outline of a coyote head between him and a dull graysky, was able to recognize Nalik'ideyu.
A wetness other than that from the coyote's tongue slid down hisforehead now. The dull clouds overhead had released the first heavy rainTravis had experienced since their landing on Topaz. He shivered as thechill damp of his clothes made him aware that he must have been lyingout in the full force of the downpour for some time.
It was a struggle to get to his knees, but Nalik'ideyu mouthed a hold onhis shirt, tugging and pulling so that somehow he crept into a hollowbeneath the branches of a tree where the spouting water was lessened toa few pattering drops.
There the Apache's strength deserted him again and he could only hunchover, his bent knees against his chest, trying to endure the throbbingmisery in his head, the awful floating sensation which followed anymovement. Fighting against that, he tried to remember just what hadhappened.
The meeting with Deklay and at least four or five others ... then theApache accusation of witchcraft, a serious thing in the old days. Olddays! To Deklay and his fellows, these _were_ the old days! And thethreat that Deklay or some other had shouted at him--"_Do ne'ilkada'_"--meant literally: "It won't dawn for you--death!"
Stones, the last thing Travis remembered were the stones. Slowly hishands went out to explore his body. There was more than one bruised areaon his shoulders and ribs, even on his thighs. He must still have been atarget after he had fallen under the stone which had knocked himunconscious. Stoned ... outlawed! But why? Surely Deklay's hostilitycould not have swept Buck, Jil-Lee, Tsoay, even Nolan, into agreeing tothat? Now he could not think straight.
Travis became aware of warmth, not only of warmth and the soft touch ofa furred body by his side, but a comforting communication of mind, afeeling he had no words to describe adequately. Nalik'ideyu was sittingcrowded against him, her nose thrust up to rest on his shoulder. Shebreathed in soft puffs which stirred the loose locks of his rain-damphair. And now he flung one arm about her, a gesture which brought awhisper of answering whine.
He was past wondering about the actions of the coyotes, only supremelythankful for Nalik'ideyu's present companionship. And a moment laterwhen her mate squeezed under the low loop of a branch and joined themin this natural wickiup, Travis held out his other hand, drew itlovingly across Naginlta's wet hide.
"Now what?" he asked aloud. Deklay could only have taken such a drasticaction with the majority of the clan solidly behind him. It could wellbe that this reactionary was the new chief, this act of Travis'expulsion merely adding to Deklay's growing prestige.
The shivering which had begun when Travis recovered consciousness, stillshook him at intervals. Back on Terra, like all the others in the team,he had had every inoculation known to the space physicians, includingseveral experimental ones. But the cold virus could still practicallyimmobilize a man, and this was no time to give body room to chills andfever.
Catching his breath as his movements touched to life the pain in onebruise after another, Travis peeled off his soaked clothing, rubbed hisbody dry with handfuls of last year's leaves culled from the thickcarpet under him, knowing there was nothing he could do until thewhirling in his head disappeared. So he burrowed into the leaves untilonly his head was uncovered, and tried to sleep, the coyotes curling upone on either side of his nest.
He dreamed but later could not remember any incident from those dreams,save a certain frustration and fear. When he awoke, again to the soundof steady rain, it was dark. He reached out--both coyotes were gone. Hishead was clearer and suddenly he knew what must be done. As soon as hisbody was strong enough, he, too, would return to instincts and customsof the past. This situation was desperate enough for him to challengeDeklay.
In the dark Travis frowned. He was slightly taller, and three or fouryears younger than his enemy. But Deklay had the advantage in a stouterbuild and longer reach. However, Travis was sure that in his presentlife Deklay had never fought a duel--Apache fashion. And an Apache duelwas not a meeting anyone entered into lightly. Travis had the right toenter the rancheria and deliver such a challenge. Then Deklay must meethim or admit himself in the wrong. That part of it was simple.
But in the past such duels had just one end, a fatal one for at leastone of the fighters. If Travis took this trail, he must be prepared togo the limit. And he didn't want to kill Deklay! There were too few ofthem here on Topaz to make any loss less than a real catastrophe. Whilehe had no liking for Deklay, neither did he nurse any hatred. However,he must challenge the other or remain a tribal outcast; and Travis hadno right to gamble with time and the future, not after what he hadlearned in the tower. It might be his life and skill, or Deklay's,against the blotting out of them all--and their home world into thebargain.
First, he must locate the present camp of the clan. If Nolan's argumentshad counted, they would be heading south away from the pass. And tofollow would draw him farther from the tower valley. Travis' batteredface ached as he grinned bitterly. This was another time when a mancould wish he were two people, a scout on sentry duty at the valley, thefighter heading in the opposite direction to have it out with Deklay.But since he was merely one man he would have to gamble on time, one ofthe trickiest risks of all.
Before dawn Nalik'ideyu returned, carrying with her a bird--or at leastbirds must have been somewhere in the creature's ancestry, but thepresent representative of its kind had only vestigial remnants of wings,its trailing feet and legs well developed and far more powerful.
Travis skinned the corpse, automatically putting aside some spine quillsto feather future arrows. Then he ate slivers of dusky meat raw,throwing the bones to Nalik'ideyu.
Though he was still stiff and sore, Travis was determined to be on hisway. He tried mind contact with the coyote, picturing the Apaches,notably Deklay, as sharply as he could by mental image. And her assentwas clear in return. She and her mate were willing to lead him to thetribe. He gave a light sigh of relief.
As he slogged on through the depressing drizzle, the Apache wonderedagain why the coyotes had left him before and waited in the towervalley. What link was there between the animals of Terra and the remainsof the long-ago empire of the stars? For he was certain it was not bychance that Nalik'ideyu and Naginlta had lingered in that misty place.He longed to communicate with them directly, to ask questions and beanswered.
Without their aid, Travis would never have been able to track the clan.The drizzle alternated with slashing bursts of rain, torrential enoughto drive the trackers to the nearest cover. Overhead the sky was eitherdull bronze or night black. Even the coyotes paced nose to ground, oftenmaking wide casts for the trail while Travis waited.
The rain lasted for three days and nights, filling watercourses withrapidly rising streams. Travis could only hope that the others werehaving the same difficulty traveling that he was, perhaps the more sosince they were burdened with packs. The fact that they kept on meantthat they were determined to get as far from the northern mountains asthey could.
On the fourth morning the bronze of the clouds slowly thinned into theusual gold, and the sun struck across hills where mist curled like steamfrom a hundred bubbling pots. Travis relaxed in the welcome warmth,feeling his shirt dry on his shoulders. It was still a waterloggedterrain ahead which should continue to slow the clan. He had highexpectations of catching up with them soon, and now the worst of hisbruises had faded. His muscles were limber, and he had worked out hisplan as best he could.
Two hours later he sat in ambush, waiting for the scout who was walkinginto his hands. Under the direction of the coyotes, Travis had circledthe line of march, come in ahead of the clan. Now he needed an emissaryto state his challenge, and the fact that the scout he was about to jumpwas Manulit
o, one of Deklay's supporters, suited Travis' purposeperfectly. He gathered his feet under him as the other came opposite,and sprang.
The rush carried Manulito off his feet and face down on the sod whileTravis made the best of his advantage and pinned the wildly fighting manunder him. Had it been one of the older braves he might not have been sosuccessful, but Manulito was still a boy by Apache standards.
"Lie still!" Travis ordered. "Listen well--so you can say to Deklay thewords of the Fox!"
The frenzied struggles ceased. Manulito managed to wrench his head tothe left so he could see his captor. Travis loosened his grip, got tohis feet. Manulito sat up, his face darkly sullen, but he did not reachfor his knife.
"You will say this to Deklay: The Fox says he is a man of little senseand less courage, preferring to throw stones rather than meet knife toknife as does a warrior. If he thinks as a warrior, let him proveit--his strength against my strength--after the ways of the People!"
Some of the sullenness left Manulito's expression. He was eager,excited.
"You would duel with Deklay after the old custom?"
"I would. Say this to Deklay, openly so that all men may hear. ThenDeklay must also give answer openly."
Manulito flushed at that implication concerning his leader's courage,and Travis knew that he would deliver the challenge openly. To keep hishold on the clan the latter must accept it, and there would be anaudience of his people to witness the success or defeat of their newchief and his policies.
As Manulito disappeared Travis summoned the coyotes, putting full effortinto getting across one message. Any tribe led by Deklay would behostile to the mutant animals. They must go into hiding, run free in thewilderness if the gamble failed Travis. Now they withdrew into thebushes but not out of reach of his mind.
He did not have too long to wait. First came Jil-Lee, Buck, Nolan,Tsoay, Lupe--those who had been with him on the northern scout. Then theothers, the warriors first, the women making a half circle behind,leaving a free space in which Deklay walked.
"I am the Fox," Travis stated. "And this one has named me witch and_natdahe_, outlaw of the mountains. Therefore do I come to name names inmy turn. Hear me, People: This Deklay--he would walk among you as_'izesnantan_, a great chief--but he does not have the _go'ndi_, theholy power of a chief. For this Deklay is a fool, with a head filled bynothing but his own wishes, not caring for his clan brothers. He says heleads you into safety; I say he leads you into the worst danger anyliving man can imagine--even in peyote dreams! He is one twisted in histhoughts, and he would make you twisted also----"
Buck cut in sharply, hushing the murmur of the massed clan.
"These are bold words, Fox. Will you back them?"
Travis' hands were already peeling off his shirt. "I will back them," hestated between set teeth. He had known since his awakening after thestoning that this next move was the only one left for him to make. Butnow that the testing of his action came, he could not be certain of theoutcome, of anything save that the final decision of this battle mightaffect more than the fate of two men. He stripped, noting that Deklaywas doing the same.
Having stepped into the center of the glade, Nolan was using the pointof his knife to score a deep-ridged circle there. Naked except for hismoccasins, with only his knife in his hand, Travis took the two strideswhich put him in the circle facing Deklay. He surveyed his opponent'sfinely muscled body, realizing that his earlier estimate of Deklay'sprobable advantages were close to the mark. In sheer strength the otheroutmatched him. Whether Deklay was skillful with his knife was anotherquestion, one which Travis would soon be able to answer.
They circled, eyes intent upon each move, striving to weigh and measureeach other's strengths and weaknesses. Knife dueling among thePinda-lick-o-yi, Travis remembered, had once been an art close tofinished swordplay, with two evenly matched fighters able to engage fora long time without seriously marking each other. But this was a farrougher and more deadly game, with none of the niceties of such ameeting.
He evaded a vicious thrust from Deklay.
"The bull charges," he laughed. "And the Fox snaps!" By some incrediblestroke of good fortune, the point of his weapon actually grazed Deklay'sarm, drawing a thin, red inch-long line across the skin.
"Charge again, bull. Feel once more the Fox's teeth!"
He strove to goad Deklay into a crippling loss of temper, knowing howthe other could explode into violent rage. It was dangerous, that rage,but it could also make a man blindly careless.
There was an inarticulate sound from Deklay, a dusky swelling in theman's face. He spat, as might an enraged puma, and rushed at Travis whodid not quite manage to avoid the lunge, falling back with a smartingslash across the ribs.
"The bull gores!" Deklay bellowed. "Horns toss the Fox!"
He rushed again, elated by the sight of the trickling wound on Travis'side. But the slighter man slipped away.
Travis knew he must be careful in such evasions. One foot across theridged circle and he was finished as much as if Deklay's blade had foundits mark. Travis tried a thrust of his own, and his foot came down hardon a sharp pebble. Through the sole of his moccasin pain shot upward,caused him to stumble. Again the scarlet flame of a wound, down hisshoulder and forearm this time.
Well, there was one trick, he knew. Travis tossed the knife into theair, caught it with his left hand. Deklay was now facing a left-handedfighter and must adjust to that.
"Paw, bull, rattle your horns!" Travis cried. "The Fox still shows histeeth!"
Deklay recovered from his instant of surprise. With a cry which wasindeed like the bellow of an old range bull, he rushed into grapple,sure of his superior strength against a younger and already wounded man.
Travis ducked, one knee thumping the ground. He groped out with hisright hand, caught up a handful of earth, and flung it into the duskybrown face. Again it seemed that luck was on his side. That handfulcould not be as blinding as sand, but some bit of the shower landed inDeklay's eye.
For a space of seconds Deklay was wide open--open for a blow which wouldrip him up the middle, the blow Travis could not and would not deliver.
Instead, he took the offensive recklessly, springing straight for hisopponent. As the earth-grimed fingers of one hand clawed into Deklay'sface, he struck with the other, not with the point of the knife but withits shaft. But Deklay, already only half conscious from the blow, hadhis own chance. He fell to the ground, leaving his knife behind, twoinches of steel between Travis' ribs.
Somehow--he didn't know from where he drew that strength--Travis kepthis feet and took one step and then another, out of the circle until thecomforting brace of a tree trunk was against his bare back. Was hefinished--?
He fought to nurse his rags of consciousness. Had he summoned Buck withhis eyes? Or had the urgency of what he had to say reached somehow frommind to mind? The other was at his side, but Travis put out a hand toward him off.
"Towers--" He struggled to keep his wits through the pain and billowingweakness beginning to creep through him. "Reds mustn't get to thetowers! Worse than the bomb ... end us all!"
He had a hazy glimpse of Nolan and Jil-Lee closing in about him. Thedesire to cough tore at him, but they had to know, to believe....
"Reds get to the towers--everything finished. Not only here ... maybeback home too...."
Did he read comprehension on Buck's face? Would Nolan and Jil-Lee andthe rest believe him? Travis could not suppress the cough any longer,and the ripping pain which followed was the worst he had everexperienced. But still he kept his feet, tried to make them understand.
"Don't let them get to the towers. Find that storehouse!"
Travis stood away from the tree, reached out to Buck his earth andbloodstained hand. "I swear ... truth ... this must be done!"
He was going down, and he had a queer thought that once he reached theground everything would end, not only for him but also for his mission.Trying to see the faces of the men about him was like attempting toidentify the peop
le in a dream.
"Towers!" He had meant to shout it, but he could not even hear forhimself that last word as he fell.
