Storm Over Warlock

by Andre Norton

  6. THE HOUND

  The sun was a harsh ball of heat baking the ground and then, in some oddmanner, drawing back that same fieriness. In the coolness of the easternmountains Shann would not have believed that Warlock could hold suchheat. The men discarded their jackets early as they swung to dip thepoles. But they dared not strip off the rest of their clothing lesttheir skin burn. And again gusts of wind now drove sand over the edge ofthe cut to blanket the water.

  Shann wiped his eyes, pausing in his eternal push-push, to look at therocks which they were passing in threatening proximity. For the slashwhich held the river had narrowed. And the rock of its walls was nakedof earth, save for sheltered pockets holding the drift of sand dust,while boulders of all sizes cut into the path of the flowing water.

  He had not been mistaken; they were going faster, faster even than theirefforts with the poles would account for. With the narrowing of the bedof the stream, the current was taking on a new swiftness. Shann said asmuch and Thorvald nodded.

  "We're approaching the first of the rapids."

  "Where we get off and walk around," Shann croaked wearily. The dustgritted between his teeth, irritated his eyes. "Do we stay beside theriver?"

  "As long as we can," Thorvald replied somberly. "We have no way oftransporting water."

  Yes, a man could live on very slim rations of food, continue to beat hisway over a bad trail if he had the concentrate tablets they carried. Butthere was no going without water, and in this heat such an effort wouldfinish them quickly. Always they both listened for another cry frombehind, a cry to tell them just how near the Throg hunting party hadcome.

  "No Throg flyers yet," Shann observed. He had expected one of thoseblack plates to come cruising the moment the hound had pointed thedirection for their pursuers.

  "Not in a storm such as this." Thorvald, without releasing his hold onthe raft pole, pointed with his chin to the swirling haze cloaking theair above the cut walls. Here the river dug yet deeper into thebeginning of a canyon. They could breathe better. The dust still sifteddown but not as thickly as a half hour earlier. Though over their headsthe sky was now a grayish lid, shutting out the sun, bringing a portionof coolness to the travelers.

  The Survey officer glanced from side to side, watching the banks as ifhunting for some special mark or sign. At last he used his pole as apointer to indicate a rough pile of boulders ahead. Some formerlandslide had quarter dammed the river at that point, and the drift ofseasonal floods was caught in and among the rocky pile to form a pricklypeninsula.

  "In there----"

  They brought the raft to shore, fighting the faster current. Thewolverines, who had been subdued by the heat and the dust, flungthemselves to the rocks with the eagerness of passengers deserting asinking ship for certain rescue. Thorvald settled the map case moresecurely between his arm and side before he took the same leap. Whenthey were all ashore he prodded the raft out into the stream again,pushing the platform along until it was sucked by the current past theline of boulders.

  "Listen!"

  But Shann had already caught that distant rumble of sound. It wassteady, beating like some giant drum. Certainly it did not herald aThrog ship in flight and it came from ahead, not from their back trail.

  "Rapids ... perhaps even the falls," Thorvald interpreted that faintthunder. "Now, let's see what kind of a road we can find here."

  The tongue of boulders, spiked with driftwood, was firmly based againstthe wall of the cut. But it sloped up to within a few feet of the top ofthat gap, more than one landslide having contributed to its fashioning.The landing stage paralleled the river for perhaps some fifty feet.Beyond it water splashed a straight wall. They would have to climb andfollow the stream along the top of the embankment, maybe being forcedwell away from the source of the water.

  By unspoken consent they both knelt and drank deeply from their cuppedhands, splashing more of the liquid over their heads, washing the dustfrom their skins. Then they began to climb the rough assent up which thewolverines had already vanished. The murk above them was less solid, butagain the fine grit streaked their faces, embedding itself in theirhair.

  Shann paused to scrape a film of mud from his lips and chin. Then hemade the last pull, bracing his slight body against the push of the windhe met there. A palm struck hard between his shoulders, nearly sendinghim sprawling. He had only wits enough left to recognize that as anorder to get on, and he staggered ahead until rock arched over him andthe sand drift was shut off.

  His shoulder met solid stone, and having rubbed the sand from his eyes,Shann realized he was in a pocket in the cliff walls. Well overhead hecaught a glimpse of natural amber sky through a slit, but here was atwilight which thickened into complete darkness.

  There was no sign of wolverines. Thorvald moved along the pocketsouthward, and Shann followed him. Once more they faced a dead end. Forthe crevice, with the sheer descent to the river on the right, the cliffwall at its back, came to an abrupt stop in a drop which caught atShann's stomach when he ventured to look down.

  If some battleship of the interstellar fleet had aimed a force beamacross the mountains of Warlock, cutting down to what lay under thefirst envelope of planet-skin, perhaps the resulting wound might haveresembled that slash. What had caused such a break between the height onwhich they stood and the much taller peak beyond, Shann could not guess.But it must have been a cataclysm of spectacular dimensions. There wascertainly no descending to the bottom of that cut and reclimbing therock face on the other side. The fugitives would either have to returnto the river with all its ominous warnings of trouble to come, or findsome other path across that gap which now provided such an effectivebarrier to the west.

  "Down!" Just as Thorvald had pushed him out of the murk of the duststorm into the crevice, so now did that officer jerk Shann from hisfeet, forcing him to the floor of the half cave from which they hadpartially emerged.

  A shadow moved across the bright band of sunlit sky.

  "Back!" Thorvald caught at Shann again, his greater strength prevailingas he literally dragged the younger man into the dusk of the crevice.And he did not pause, nor allow Shann to do so, even when they were wellundercover again. At last they reached the dark hole in the southernwall which they had passed earlier. And a push from Thorvald sent hiscompanion into that.

  Then a blow greater than any the Survey officer had aimed at him struckShann. He was hurled against a rough wall with impetus enough to explodethe air from his lungs, the ensuing pain so great that he feared hisribs had given under that thrust. Before his eyes fire lashed down theslit, searing him into temporary blindness. That flash was the lastthing he remembered as thick darkness closed in, shutting him into thenothingness of unconsciousness.

  It hurt to breathe; he was slowly aware first of that pain and then thefact that he _was_ breathing, that he had to endure the pain for thesake of breath. His whole body was jarred into a dull torment as aweight pressed upon his twisted legs. Then strong animal breath puffedinto his face. Shann lifted one hand by will power, touched thick fur,felt the rasp of a tongue laid wetly across his fingers.

  Something close to terror engulfed him for a second or two when he knewthat he could not see! The black about him was colored by jagged flashesof red which he somehow guessed were actually inside his eyes. He gropedthrough that fire-pierced darkness. An animal whimper from the throat ofthe shaggy body pressed against him; he answered that movement.

  "Taggi?"

  The shove against him was almost enough to pin him once more to thewall, a painful crush on his aching ribs, as the wolverine responded tohis name. That second nudge from the other side must be Togi's bid forattention.

  But what had happened? Thorvald had hurled him back just after thatshadow had swung over the ledge. That shadow! Shann's wits quickened ashe tried to make sense of what he could remember. A Throg ship! Thenthat fiery lash which had cut after them could only have resulted fromone of those energy bolts such as had wiped out the others of his kindat the camp. But
he was still alive----!

  "Thorvald?" He called through his personal darkness. When there was noanswer, Shann called again, more urgently. Then he hunched forward onhis hands and knees, pushing Taggi gently aside, running his hands overprojecting rocks, uneven flooring.

  His fingers touched what could only be cloth, before they met the warmthof flesh. And he half threw himself against the supine body of theSurvey officer, groping awkwardly for heartbeat, for some sign that theother was still living.

  "What----?" The one word came thickly, but Shann gave something close to asob of relief as he caught the faint mutter. He squatted back on hisheels, pressed his forearm against his aching eyes in a kind of fiercewill to see.

  Perhaps that pressure did relieve some of the blackout, for when heblinked again, the complete dark and the fiery trails had faded to gray,and he was sure he saw dimly a source of light to his left.

  The Throg ship had fired upon them. But the aliens could not have usedthe full force of their weapon or neither of the Terrans would still bealive. Which meant, Shann's thoughts began to make sense--sense whichbrought apprehension--the Throgs probably intended to disable ratherthan kill. They wanted prisoners, just as Thorvald had warned.

  How long did the Terrans have before the aliens would come to collectthem? There was no fit landing place hereabouts for their flyer. Thebeetle-heads would have to set down at the edge of the desert land andclimb the mountains on foot. And the Throgs were not good at that. So,the fugitives still had a measure of time.

  Time to do what? The country itself held them securely captive. Thatdrop to the southwest was one barrier. To retreat eastward would meanrunning straight into the hands of the hunters. To descend again to theriver, their raft gone, was worse than useless. There was only this sidepocket in which they sheltered. And once the Throgs arrived, they couldscoop the Terrans out at their leisure, perhaps while stunned by acontrolling energy beam.

  "Taggi? Togi?" Shann was suddenly aware that he had not heard thewolverines for some time.

  He was answered by a weirdly muffled call--from the south! Had theanimals found a new exit? Was this niche more than just a niche? A caveof some length, or even a passage running back into the interior of thepeaks? With that faint hope spurring him, Shann bent again overThorvald, able now to make out the other's huddled form. Then he drewthe torch from the inner loop of his coat and pressed the lowest stud.

  His eyes smarted in answer to that light, watered until tears patternedthe grime and dust on his cheeks. But he could make out what lay beforethem, a hole leading into the cliff face, the hole which might furnishthe door to escape.

  The Survey officer moved, levering himself up, his eyes screwed tightlyshut.

  "Lantee?"

  "Here. And there's a tunnel--right behind you. The wolverines went thatway...."

  To his surprise there was a thin ghost of a smile on Thorvald's usuallystraight-lipped mouth. "And we'd better be away before visitors arrive?"

  So he, too, must have thought his way through the sequence of pastaction to the same conclusion concerning the Throg movements.

  "Can you see, Lantee?" The question was painfully casual, but a note init, almost a reaching for reassurance, cut for the first time throughthe wall which had stood between them from their chance meeting by thewrecked ship.

  "Better now. I couldn't when I first came to," Shann answered quickly.

  Thorvald opened his eyes, but Shann guessed that he was as blind as hehimself had been, He caught at the officer's nearer hand, drawing it torest on his own belt.

  "Grab hold!" Shann was giving the orders now. "By the look of thatopening we had better try crawling. I've a torch on at low----"

  "Good enough." The other's fingers fumbled on the band about Shann'sslim waist until they gripped tight at his back. He started on into theopening, drawing Thorvald by that hold with him.

  Luckily, they did not have to crawl far, for shortly past the entrancethe fault or vein they were following became a passage high enough foreven the tall Thorvald to travel without stooping. And then only alittle later he released his hold on Shann, reporting he could now seewell enough to manage on his own.

  The torch beam caught on a wall and awoke from there a glitter whichhurt their eyes--a green-gold cluster of crystals. Several feet on,there was another flash of embedded crystals. Those might promisepriceless wealth, but neither Terran paused to examine them more closelyor touch their surfaces. From time to time Shann whistled. And always hewas answered by the wolverines, their calls coming from ahead. So themen continued to hope that they were not walking into a trap from whichthe Throgs could extract them.

  "Snap off your torch a moment!" Thorvald ordered.

  Shann obeyed. The subdued light vanished. Yet there was still light tobe seen--ahead and above.

  "Front door," Thorvald observed. "How do we get up?"

  The torch showed them that, a narrow ladder of ledges branching off whenthe passage they followed took a turn to the left and east. AfterwardShann remembered that climb with wonder that they had actually made it,though their advance had been slow, passing the torch from one toanother to make sure of their footing.

  Shann was top man when a last spurt of effort enabled him to drawhimself out into the open, his hands raw, his nails broken and torn. Hesat there, stupefied with his own weariness, to stare about.

  Thorvald called impatiently, and Shann reached for the torch to hold itfor the officer. Then Thorvald crawled out; he, too, looked around indull surprise.

  On either side, peaks cut high into the amber of the sky. But this bowlin which the men had found refuge was rich in growing things. Though thetrees were stunted, the grass grew almost as high here as it did on themeadows of the lowlands. Quartering the pocket valley, galloped thewolverines, expressing in that wild activity their delight in thisfreedom.

  "Good campsite."

  Thorvald shook his head. "We can't stay here."

  And, to underline that gloomy prophesy, there issued from that holethrough which they had just come, muffled and broken, but stillthreatening, the howl of the Throgs' hound.

  The Survey officer caught the torch from Shann's hold and knelt to flashit into the interior of the passage. As the beam slowly circled thatopening, he held out his other arm, measuring the size of the aperture.

  "When that thing gets on a hot scent"--he snapped off the beam--"thebeetle-heads won't be able to control it. There will be no reason forthem to attempt to. Those hounds obey their first orders: kill--orcapture. And I think this one operates on 'capture.' So they'll loose itto run ahead of their party."

  "And we move to knock it out?" Shann relied now on the other'sexperience.

  Thorvald rose. "It would need a blaster on full power to finish off ahound. No, we can't kill it. But we can make it a doorkeeper to ouradvantage." He trotted down into the valley, Shann beside him withoutunderstanding in the least, but aware that Thorvald did have some plan.The officer bent, searched the ground, and began to pull from under theloose surface dirt one of those nets of tough vines which they had usedfor cords. He thrust a double handful of this hasty harvest into Shann'shold with a single curt order: "Twist these together and make as thick arope as you can!"

  Shann twisted, discovering to his pleased surprise that under pressurethe vines exuded a sticky purple sap which not only coated his hands,but also acted as an adhesive for the vines themselves so that his taskwas not nearly as formidable as it had first seemed. With his force axThorvald cut down two of the stunted trees and stripped them ofbranches, wedging the poles into the rocks about the entrance of thehole.

  They were working against time, but on Thorvald's part with practicedefficiency. Twice more that cry of the hunter arose from the depthsbehind them. As the westering sun, almost down now, shone into thevalley hollow Thorvald set up the frame of his trap.

  "We can't knock it out, any more than we can knock out a Throg. But abeam from a stunner ought to slow it up long enough for this to work."


  Taggi burst out of the grass, approaching the hole with purpose. AndTogi was right at his heels. Both of them stared into that opening,drooling a little, the same eagerness in their pose as they haddisplayed when hunting. Shann remembered how that first howl of theThrog hound had drawn both animals to the edge of the occupied camp inspite of their marked distaste for its alien masters.

  "They're after it too." He told Thorvald what he had noted on the nightof their sortie.

  "Maybe they can keep it occupied," the other commented. "But we don'twant them to actually mix with it; that might be fatal."

  A clamor broke out in the interior passage. Taggi snarled, backing awaya few steps before he uttered his own war cry.

  "Ready!" Thorvald jumped to the net slung from the poles; Shann raisedhis stunner.

  Togi underlined her mate's challenge with a series of snarls rising involume. There was a tearing, scrambling sound from within. Then Shannfired at the jack-in-the-box appearance of a monstrous head, andThorvald released the deadfall.

  The thing squalled. Ropes beat, growing taut. The wolverines backed fromjaws which snapped fruitlessly. To Shann's relief the Terran animalsappeared content to bait the now imprisoned--or collared--horror,without venturing to make any close attack.

  But he reckoned that too soon. Perhaps the stunner had slowed up thehound's reflexes, for those jaws stilled with a last shattering snap,the toad-lizard mask--a head which was against all nature as the Terransknew it--was quiet in the strangle leash of the rope, the rest of thebody serving as a cork to fill the exit hole. Taggi had been waitingonly for such a chance. He sprang, claws ready. And Togi went in afterher mate to share the battle.