by Andre Norton
“Just ahead now. I had better turn this off.” Hadlett pushed off the flash button. There was instant and smothering darkness, and Nick began a protest, but the Vicar was continuing:
“Wait until our eyes adjust. It is night out there but there should be some light—moon—”
“Let me lead now.” Nick did not want to do that, but he certainly was not going to stand behind two women and an older man. Something brushed past him and he nearly cried out. Then he knew it was Jeremiah.
Nick bumped into a solid surface with considerable force and realized there was a turn in the passage. Feeling his way with one hand, the knife in the other, he made the turn and indeed did see a pale spot ahead.
“Wait,” he whispered, “until I make sure.”
“Well enough,” Hadlett agreed.
Nick took it very slowly. There was too much chance of tripping, or making some noise. If those who had besieged the other entrance to the cave had an outpost here they could be waiting.
That short advance was one of the hardest things Nick had ever forced himself to do. But at last he felt the cool night air, saw moonlight. He crouched and listened, wishing with all his might he knew what were the natural sounds one should expect to hear—and those that would mean trouble.
Then Nick sighted Jeremiah. The cat was in the open, his gray fur hardly distinguishable. And from him Nick gained one of those thought messages. There was no one threatening nearby—they had gotten free of the Dark Ones—for now.
Nick crept back to the turn and whispered the good news. The waiting three followed him. A moment or so and they were out of the slit into the night, standing under the stars, seeing the silver of the moon.
“Which way do we go now?” Linda wanted to know. She carried Lung, and Nick thought she did not trust the Peke not to run into some waiting danger.
“Ahead I would say.” Hadlett held Nick’s compass. “We should go east for a space before we turn south. Thus perhaps we can outflank those by the cave.”
“If they are still there,” Nick commented.
Having three prisoners, would they be waiting for the rest? He thought it more in keeping that they would only leave a token force and be on their way with their captives. If they were captives still and not—
He refused to accept what his imagination supplied. Not yet, not until they had proof, would he believe the others dead. They might lose time by following the Vicar’s suggestion, but it was a sensible one. And the more they could avoid the ghastly crew he had seen the better.
Rita—had she returned to the city? She made it clear she would not come to their aid again. But that was only just. They had refused what she had to offer. And what had they gained in return—the loss of half their company.
“Nicholas.” He turned toward that half-seen form that was Hadlett, now hand-linked to Mrs. Clapp, who had admitted her night sight was poor.
“What is it?”
“We are no longer alone.” That was the chilling information Nick had feared ever since they had emerged from the cave’s back door.
17
Nick sensed it also—the presence, or presences—but not the evil that had been such a foul emanation from the Dark Ones. He heard a mewling cry from Jeremiah.
Then once more he saw the cat. With him was Lung who must have escaped from Linda. The animals stood together and before them was one of the weird forest beasts, larger than either, but bending its head to touch noses with first the cat and then the Peke.
It was the one—or like it—that Nick had seen with the Green Man—the creature Hadlett had named “enfield.” In color this had a golden sheen, misted as the Herald and the People appeared. And that radiance made clear its fox head, greyhound body, the taloned, eaglelike forefeet, the canine hindquarters and wolf tail.
What manner of exchange passed between the animals they had no way of knowing. However, the enfield raised its sharp-eared head and gave a cry that was neither bay nor bark, closer to song. It was answered from the darkness about in various notes and tones, as if the human party was now ringed by strange and alien creatures.
The enfield turned its head to eye them. In its skull its eyes were small yellow flames. For a second out of time it studied them. Then once more it voiced the call. When it was answered, it was gone, winked out as might be the flame of a candle caught by a puff of breeze.
“What—?” Linda began shakily.
But Nick knew, without words he knew.
“We have nothing to fear—from them,” he said.
“The freedom of the woodlands,” Hadlett added. “Perhaps we have not been given full seizing, that ancient right to estate under formal rule. But this much—”
“I don’t know what you are talking about!” Linda burst out. “What was that—that thing? And, Nick, from the sound, they’re all around us. What if—”
“We have nothing to fear,” he repeated. “Not from them.”
Could they dare to hope they had acquired an escort? Or would the unseen company of beasts merely remain neutral? He knew they were still there, though he did not sight them. And with the vanishing of the light radiating from the enfield he could no longer see either Jeremiah or Lung.
“We’d better get on,” Nick added. What he did not say was that he wanted to see if other company would move with them.
“Yes!” Linda was eager to push ahead. Undoubtedly she wanted to leave the unseen behind. “Lung,” she called softly. “Here, Lung!”
The Peke came to her readily and she scooped him up, holding him as if she feared he might be snatched from her at any moment. Then Nick felt the push of a furred body against his legs, stooped and gathered up Jeremiah. The cat wriggled up, draped his body about Nick’s shoulders stole-fashion. The American was a little uncomfortable under the weight, but knew that he must be content with Jeremiah’s choice.
Guided by the compass, they went east, skirting the open where there was need. But their pace slowed. Nick knew without seeing or being told that Mrs. Clapp was lagging, and he suspected it was little better with the Vicar. They would have to rest.
When he suggested a halt there was no objection, and, using a bush growth for cover, they dropped to the ground. Jeremiah leaped from Nick’s shoulders to disappear. There was no measuring how far they had come, but Nick wondered if they should not now turn south, strive to cut across the trail of the missing.
Morning light would be better for a tracking attempt and he pointed this out. To his surprise, the Vicar agreed. They planned to keep watch, the three of them, allowing Mrs. Clapp full rest, turn about.
Nick volunteered for the first sentry go. The moonlight somehow appeared dimmer and he had to depend more on his ears than his sight. He stuck the knife point down between his knees, resting one hand on its hilt, and tried to think.
There was, he believed, very little chance of them being able to rescue the others. But that fact they would have to prove to themselves. Afterward—what could they do? Would it be possible to slowly work their way back through a now totally hostile world to the place they had left the jeep and there try Linda’s suggestion of opening a return door? Nick thought they might try, but the chances for success were close to nonexistent. What would remain then? A harried, ever-endangered existence as the prey of either the Dark Ones or the saucers. Perhaps they could get as far as that farmhouse again. But there was the matter of food—And life in a continual state of apprehension was no life at all.
The English had known that at home with the air raids, the constant threat of invasion. Nick had read about it, but that was all very far away and long ago. You could not understand such fear until you, yourself, were forced to live with it. And he and Linda, though the world they knew also had its violence, had not had to deal directly with it before.
The best answer was still the city. But if the Vicar and Mrs. Clapp continued to refuse—what then?
Nick tensed, jerking the knife free. He had heard nothing, he saw nothing—but there was somet
hing out there now. One of the alien animals? They had had no escort from that meeting, of that Nick was fully convinced.
Now he heard a small whine. Lung came from where Linda lay. His small body, when Nick laid hand on it, quivered as if he wished to run forth in greeting. Nick could sense no fear, only excitement.
There was a faint penciling of light in the air, outlining a figure. Nick arose to face who—or what—stood there. The light grew stronger, that figure more solid. Nick expected Avalon. But this was Rita!
“You! But—”
Then anger rose in him. “You gave us a very dramatic good-bye. Why return now?”
Her porcelain face was without expression. “For your purpose it will be enough that I have come at all. Those you seek have been taken by the flyers, not the Dark Ones. If you would have them forth, seek the sky hunters.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Nick demanded. “By your own words you are apart from us, and Avalon cares nothing for us.”
“True.” Now there was a faint troubling of her expression. “But if you seek among the Dark Ones—then you shall be totally lost. I would have you save yourselves.”
“And the others?”
Rita shook her head. “How can you save them? For those who have taken them are mightier than you can hope to be. They have weapons that are as far beyond those you have known as yours are beyond bow, sword, and spear. Those they take are gone, accept that.”
Nick’s anger, aroused by what he could not analyze, remained steady. At this point had Rita said the sun was bright, he would have denied it. At first he thought her information might be a trick. Then he was sure it was true.
“Was that sound one of their weapons?”
“”Yes. It compels—draws—’’
“Then why did it not take us all?”
“I told you—you are different. The Great Power touched you. Also he—and Maude—and the girl—they, too, believe, though they deny it. Maude and Adrian Hadlett have the old belief in their blood, their past. The girl—her dog has given her the open door. You each had a small defense against that weapon, and Lung and Jeremiah were fully armed. They are of Avalon in their own way.”
He saw now by the glow of light about her that the cat and the Peke were seated at her feet, gazing up at her as if entranced. She stooped to touch fingertip to each furred head.
“Wise in their time are these,” she said.
“Wiser than we?”
“Ask that of yourself, not me.”
Her glow was fading, drawing about her. Nick moved.
“Wait!”
But she made no answer. Rita was gone.
“That’s a good act.” Linda was beside him. “Do you believe a word she says?”
“Yes.”
“The trouble is, though I don’t like her—in fact, if you want the absolute, down-to-earth truth, I think I hate her—I believe her, too. Which means what, Nick? Can we possibly help the others if the saucer people have them? I don’t see any chance of doing that.”
“Right now I don’t either,” he confessed. “They could have taken them anywhere.”
“It is not as hopeless as it would seem.” They were both startled by the Vicar’s voice out of the dark. “Yes, I have been awake, saw and heard our visitor. And I also believe her. But, remember, we were brought to this continent as prisoners of the saucer people. They had then a headquarters here, not too far from where we were wrecked and freed. Surely any prisoners they take will be found there.”
“But we haven’t a chance of getting in,” Nick protested. “Rita was right, you know. They do have weapons beyond anything we know. They stunned those men we saw netted. And that sound—the rays they turned on the Herald. We have no protection against such. It’s crazy to think we can get them away.” But even as he protested, Nick knew that Hadlett would remain unconvinced, determined to rescue the others, be that possible or impossible.
“We seem to have a partial defense against the sound.” It was as if the Vicar had heard nothing Nick said. “What was it that Rita told you—Maude and I, through our blood and the past—now what did she mean?” Nick thought he asked that question of himself rather than his listeners. “Maude is of Sussex, very old Sussex. She was a Boorde before her marriage. And you heard her speak of her great-great-aunt who had the Sight and the powers of healing. As for me—we have been ten generations in Minton Parva, squires or churchmen, and I know the old ways—
“The old ways,” he repeated. “Yes, Avalon, and the People, I have long heard of them. Iron and the Church drove them out, but they lingered for a space. Perhaps in England they were in exile, perhaps they were colonists. ‘The Gentry’ some called them—because they were indeed ‘gentle folk’ in the old meaning of the word, fair to look on, courteous, sometimes helpful to man.”
“They had their faults, too, sir.” Mrs. Clapp had been roused. “They disliked those who spied on ’em, an’ there were them as made trouble. But they was known, leastways to the old folks. These here flyin’ people, they’re different, not like us at all. If they’ve got ’em—Lady Diana, Barry, Sam, Miss Jean—then how are we goin’ to get them back, sir?”
It was as if her brisk question roused the Vicar from his thoughts.
“That will take some consideration, Maude.”
“It will take more than consideration.” Hadlett was not a man with whom to be brusque, Nick had known that from his first meeting with the Vicar. But he would not accept some unworkable scheme now. He worried too much about the powers of the saucers. Perhaps, in a way, he could understand those better so he really dreaded them more than the monsters he thought might be illusions, horrible as those were.
“You are right, Nicholas,” the Vicar agreed.
“But,” he continued, “we now know where we must search—to the north, not the south.”
That he was going to be able to argue the English out of abandoning the search Nick already guessed was impossible. And to leave them—that he could not. It would be up to him to try to think up some telling argument, but at present his mind was a blank.
What he did do was question Hadlett methodically to learn all he could of what the Vicar had observed during their captivity in the saucer. That the flyers could stun their prey was the truth. Rendered completely helpless such prisoners were loaded into the saucers and it was some time before that effect wore off. When it did, they were locked into compartments meant to be prisons.
The escape of the English party had been a fluke which might happen perhaps once in a thousand times. Some motive power of the saucer had failed and it crash-landed.
The door to their cell had been sprung and the English had found at least two of their captors dead.
“Their helmets were shattered,” Hadlett explained. “It is evident that they cannot breathe this air without the protection of the snout-masks that are part of their headgear. That is one advantage for us—”
A very small one, was Nick’s conclusion. How were they going to break helmets in any battle when the enemy could stand off and ray them down? The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced this was a suicide mission.
“Were they all killed?” Nick asked.
“Yes. Barry and Sam went back to the ship—Barry had some hope of learning their method of flight. But all he could discover was that the ship was locked onto some homing device. What had caused it to crash he could not discover. But the crew were all dead. They were very small—dwarfish—and their skins blue. Barry and Sam did not have time to learn much, for they found another machine broadcasting what Barry thought was a distress signal. We hurried away, which was prudent, for we saw in the distance later another saucer—perhaps hunting the wreck.”
“Locked into a homing device,” Nick repeated. Then if one had access to a saucer it would take one to their headquarters—perhaps.
“That has some meaning for you?” the Vicar began and then added excitedly, “But, of course, it would be the perfect way, would it not,
to enter the enemy stronghold undetected.”
“The perfect way,” Nick reminded him, “to walk straight into a prison and whatever the saucer people have ready for those they capture.”
“Perhaps, perhaps not. It is a point to consider, Nicholas. Yes, an excellent point to consider. Think of it this way, my boy—if we were not altogether affected by their sound weapon, then it could just be we could allow ourselves to be apparently captured, to turn the tables—as the old saying goes—on our captors.”
Fantastic! Did he really think that? It was the wildest suggestion yet. Nick’s penetration into the city was as nothing beside this.
“Could we do it?”
Nick nearly rounded on Linda hotly. Somehow he had unconsciously expected her to support him in any trial of wills in their small party, but listen to her now. “Could we use illusions for bait?” she continued.
Nick’s annoyance faded. Though her face was only a blur in the dark he stared at her! An illusion for bait? Then perhaps an ambush of the saucer? No, it would not work—they had no weapons except their knives—
“Now that, m’ dear, is right smart thinkin’. I do believe, sir, that Miss Linda has an idea that might just work—”
“And how do we jump them when they come down with the net?” Nick raised his voice in protest. Pressure—a sharp pricking against his leg. He exclaimed. Jeremiah had hooked his claws well into Nick, demanding attention.
“Jeremiah.” Nick went to one knee, stroking the cat. “What is it?”
Foggy—like trying to see a picture through a dense mist—outlines that wavered back and forth, on which Nick tried to focus. Even when he concentrated, the pictures were odd, as if he saw through eyes that were not normal, having other qualities than his own. Lung—certainly that bouncing creature was Lung at his most exuberant. And there was the enfield, and behind it other weird, mixed things. The beasts of Avalon. Was Jeremiah promising now their help?
