The Iron Breed

by Andre Norton

  A strange sound from the field—the bridge into the sky-ship was now dropping from the open hatch in its side. The Demon need only to run up that to be safe. Furtig was not sure any of them could use the strange weapons quickly enough to cut her down.

  Liliha held to her ear one of the coms—as the Demon called them. Through that she could hear what the Demon said to her own kind. And she was not running, not moving at all. For some very long moments nothing happened. No one appeared in the hatch. All through those dragging minutes Furtig fully expected some awesome weapon to come into action, to their finish.

  However, it would seem Liliha was right about the female Demon keeping to her word. At length a figure appeared on the ship's bridge, advancing slowly. It was muffled in clumsy wrappings so it hardly looked like a living thing, more like one of the unreliable lair servants.

  It tramped down the ramp, strode ponderously toward the waiting Demon. While it was still some paces away, its thick-fingered hands, almost as clumsy as Furtig's own when he tried to use some delicate lair tool, thumbed something at throat level. The head covering rose and flopped back on its shoulders.

  “That is the other female,” Liliha reported. “The one Ayana calls Massa—”

  Furtig supposed that among themselves the Demons had names as did the People, the Barkers, even the Rattons. But he had never thought of the enemy as living normal, peaceful lives—only as the evil creatures of the old tales.

  Dolar was beyond Liliha. “What do they say?” he rasped.

  “The one from the ship asks questions—Where has Ayana been, what happens here. Now Ayana tells her there is much danger, they must talk. She asks about the other Demon—Jacel. Massa is angry. She says that he is ill, that Ayana must come and see to his illness. She asks where is Tan—there is anger in that. Now she says that Tan is the one who allowed the Rattons to wound her mate. That he must be wrong in his head—”

  “Twist-minded like the Demons of old,” cut in Dolar. “Mad—then dead. We must see to it that this time we are not also caught in that death! What say they now?”

  “Ayana tells Massa that there is great danger, that Tan will bring death unless he is stopped. Massa says let Tan do as he will here, let them get on the ship and raise it into the sky, return to their own world—”

  How easy that would be! Furtig growled, heard a similar sound from Dolar. Easy enough for these Demons to lift, leaving the evil one to finish here. And how could any of the People stop him? Oh, they might be able to blast these two females now. Then the one left in the ship—if he were sick perhaps he was also twist-minded—might join the one in the lairs in loosing the weapons the ship carried—

  “Ayana says ‘no,'” Liliha's voice quickened with excitement. “She says that the one called Tan must be stopped. That they can never learn what they came for—”

  “And what is that?” demanded one of the warriors crouched behind them.

  “They came here—Ayana spoke with Gammage of it this morning,” Furtig answered, as Liliha was plainly intent on the com to her ear, “hunting two things—the reason their Ancestors quit this world, and an answer to an evil now destroying their new home among the stars. Gammage has promised that when we have beaten the Rattons she may seek such knowledge.”

  “When we beat the Rattons—say rather if we beat the Rattons!” commented someone else. Furtig saw that speaker was Fal-Kan.

  “Be that as it may, there is knowledge here that they seek,” Furtig answered with not quite the deference due an Elder. “Gammage made a bargain with this Demon. But she must persuade those in the ship to honor it.”

  “The one called Massa”—Liliha signaled for silence—“says she will do nothing until Ayana aids the sickness of her mate. If he is helped, then she will think of this.”

  “If the Demon goes inside the ship we shall have no way to watch her!” Dolar instantly objected.

  “She will not go alone.” Liliha arose. “I go with her.”

  Into the private lair of the Demons? Furtig moved. He had already slipped his left hand into his fighting claws. And in the other he had the lightning thrower.

  “Not alone!” He thought his tone was not his usual one, but no one seemed to notice. Dolar twitched tail in assent.

  Liliha handed the second com to the tough old Elder. “Set it so.” She fitted it into his ear. “I do not know whether it will reach into the ship for you to hear. We can only hope it does.”

  Without glancing at Furtig, she stepped gracefully out of the doorway, her tail curled upward a little as if she went with pleasure. Pride brought him level with her, trying to assume the same appearance of unconcern.

  The Demon Massa saw them first, gave a cry, and Ayana turned her head. Liliha, having no interpreter box, pointed to her, the ship, and used hand language.

  Ayana nodded her head. Furtig, with the other interpreter, caught fragments of speech. She spoke much faster than she did with the People, and so was difficult to understand.

  “We will go to Jacel.”

  Massa turned, all those extra layers of loose skin making her move slowly. Ayana walked behind her, Liliha and Furtig keeping pace. So they climbed the ramp to the ship.

  Furtig's nostrils expanded, took in the many odors, most of them new, some disagreeable. There were strange pole steps one must climb. He set the lightning thrower between his jaws, for he must use all four limbs here. He hated the closed-in feeling of a trap which the cramped interior gave him.

  Yet he stared carefully about him, intent on making good use of this chance to see the marvels of the Demons, wishing he could understand it all better.

  In the small side chamber where the other male Demon lay in a niche within the wall, there was room for only the two females. But Furtig and Liliha could watch through the doorway. The Demon's face was flushed, his head turned restlessly from side to side, his eyes were half-open. But, though they rested on Furtig, there was no sign that the Demon really saw the warrior.

  Ayana was busy. She used a box from which wires ran to pads she held against the Demon's head, against his chest, watching the top of the machine where there sounded a steady clicking. Then she took up two small rods, opened them to slide in even thinner tubes in which liquid moved as she turned them. The ends of the outer rods she pressed to the bare skin of the Demon, on his arm, on his chest, at one point on his throat.

  Before she had finished, his head no longer rolled, but lay quiet, his eyes closed. Then she spoke to Massa, slowly, as if she wanted the People to hear and understand.

  “He will sleep, and wake all right. It is an infection from his wound, but not serious. This place is poisonous in more ways than one, Massa.”

  Massa had settled down beside the sleeping male, her hand over his, watching his face intently.

  “Tan—Tan did this to him,” she said. “What happened to Tan?”

  “The same thing which destroyed those who remained here.” Ayana put away the instruments. “Madness. And now Tan is about to destroy even more. You will have to help stop him, Massa, help us—”

  “Us? Us, Ayana? You are helping these—these animals?” The Demon Massa looked to Furtig and Liliha, and there was fear in her eyes.

  “Not animals, Massa—people—the People. This is Liliha, Furtig.” She motioned from one to the other. “They have their lives and more than their lives at stake here. Our ancestors made them—”

  “Robos?”

  Ayana shook her head at that queer word. “No. Remember the old learning tapes, Massa? Remember ‘cat' and ‘dog' and ‘rat'—and Putti, a dear friend?”

  Furtig saw a little of the fear fade from the other's eyes, a wonderment take its place.

  “But those were animals!”

  “Were once. Just as we were once also. I do not know what really happened here, besides the spread of a madness which wrecked a whole species and altered others past recognition. But whatever our ancestors loosed, or tried to do deliberately, out of it grew the People who were cats,
the Barkers who were dogs, and the Rattons—rats. And it is the latter Tan deals with—the filthy, merciless, torturing latter! He uses their aid to start old war machines, planning to wreck this world. Our ancestors left the company of those who began this grim wastage; we must stop it now.”

  “I do not know how you have learned all this.” Massa raised the hand of the sleeping Demon and held it to her cheek. “But Tan—he turned those evil Rattons on Jacel. I owe him for that!”

  Beside Furtig, Liliha stirred. She spoke in a small whisper. “This one did not have a mate chosen for her, or if she did, then her choice was the same. She will join us, I think, because she hates the ones who harmed him.”

  Thus when they came forth from the ship again they were not three but four. And all of them carried boxes and containers Ayana and Massa had chosen from supplies. They transported these to that place where Gammage had gathered his battle leaders. Not only were Elders of the Barkers there, keeping to themselves, watching the People from eye corners (as the People surveyed them in return), but also Broken Nose brought in the pick of his warriors and they stood snuffling and grunting in one corner, their heavy-tusked leader in the circle about Gammage.

  While the Ancestor made hand and speech talk, deft-fingered In-born moved small blocks here and there on the floor.

  “The passages run so.” Gammage gestured to the collection of blocks. “Walls stand thus. They can bring out the war machines only here, and here. We have scouts at each exit to warn of their coming—”

  “But will we have time for such a message to reach us?” The Barker Elder's hand signs were awkward by the People's standard but effective enough to be understood.

  “Yes—he will do it.” Gammage pointed to Furtig.

  “He is here—the scouts are there—” The gestures of the Barker were impatient.

  “He can see—in his head—”

  Furtig only hoped that Gammage was right, that his ability to contact the scouts would work. Foskatt was one, having with him the box to step up their communication. A second warrior, a small, very agile follower from Ku-La's tribe, had tested out well in box-Furtig contact too. It was the best they could do, for Foskatt could not cover both exits at once.

  The Barker chief stared at Furtig. If he did not believe Gammage, at least he did not say so. Perhaps he had been shown enough inside the lairs to lead him to accept any wild statement.

  “Only two ways for them to come,” Gammage continued vocally for his own people and the Demon females. “And it is near to those that they must be stopped. We have taken all the servant machines and set them at the beginning of each way, ready to put into action. Though those will only cause a little delay. And with such fire shooters”—he looked now to Ayana—“as you say those are, perhaps the delay will be a very short one.”

  “Massa?” Ayana spoke the name of her sister Demon like a question.

  The other was studying a picture projected on the wall, the one showing the details of what Tan and the Rattons were doing. “Those are storage-powered.” Her words made little sense to Furtig. “If the power could be shorted, or stepped up by feed radiation—”

  “They would blow themselves up!” Ayana joined her. “Could we do that?”

  “With a strong enough transmitter hook-up. But to do it underground—The backlash would be so powerful—there is no way of measuring what might happen.”

  “Yet if they bring those out—use them—”

  Massa looked from Ayana to the mixed company of allies. “To whom here do we owe a debt? And remember, Tan would be lost, too.”

  Ayana turned her head also, looked from Liliha to Furtig, to Gammage, old Broken Nose, the people of Ku-La, those of the lair, the caves, the Barkers. It was as if she studied them all to make sure she knew them.

  “Tan has already made his choice,” she said slowly. “The debt is owed to all these. It is an old debt. Those of our blood started them on the road which they now travel. Our blood did ill here, and if we do not halt Tan, it shall do worse. Since we were responsible, these must have their chance. There is our old madness—and here is new life beginning. If we allow this war to break loose, we shall have to face a second failure for our kind. We must do what we can here and now.”

  “You then accept the full consequences of what will happen?” Massa spoke solemnly like one giving a challenge to battle.

  “I accept.”

  “So be it.”

  Under the guidance of Massa, who went through the storerooms of the In-born (pausing sometimes with exclamations of one finding treasures until she was hurried on by Ayana), the lair defenders drew out many things they did not understand, placed those on carts which could be driven down into the lower levels.

  They finally chose a single point, where the attackers must pass if they would reach the key entrance to Gammage's territory, and there they erected the barricade. Massa crawled in and out laying wires, placing boxes, those she had brought from the ship, others from the stores.

  Furtig saw none of this. Against his will he sat in Gammage's headquarters, trying to keep his mind receptive to scout reports. Squatting on their heels before him were two younglings selected for their swift running, ready to carry warning to those who set up the final line of defense.

  Meanwhile, out of this section of the lairs in which Gammage's people had so long sheltered, that tribe and the more recently joined kinsmen were moving not only their families and personal belongings, but load after load of the highly useful discoveries. For Massa had warned that when attack came, and if the counteraction she planned worked, there might even be an end to the buildings themselves.

  Warriors, shaking with weariness, started appearing from below, stopped to pick up and stagger on with some last loads of discoveries. At last came the final party of all, Gammage, Dolar, the two Demons, three of the People, and two Barkers.

  “We go—” Gammage staggered. He looked very thin and frail and old, as if all his years had fallen on him at once. Dolar was supporting him as he went. “The Demon says this is a distance weapon, released by what she has in her hand—”

  Furtig did not rise. “I cannot receive the alarm from below at any greater distance than this.” As he said that a hollow emptiness was in him as if he hungered—but not for food, rather for the hope of life. He had tested the limits of the mind-send—and had accepted the fact that he could not retreat with the rest, any more than could Foskatt or the young scout of Ku-La's band, who were at their posts below.

  “But—” Ayana paused after that one word.

  Slowly Dolar made an assenting tail sweep.

  “How long”—Furtig hoped his voice was reasonably steady, the proper tone for a warrior about to lead into battle—“must you know before you use this machine of yours?” He was using the interpreter and spoke directly to the Demon.

  Ayana pulled at her wrist, loosening a band holding a round thing with black markings. One of those markings moved steadily.

  “When this mark moves from here to here—that long do we have between alarm and when we use the weapon.”

  She slipped the band off, gestured for Furtig to take it.

  Furtig turned now to Gammage. “How long before the Demon war machines can reach the place of the trap after they are sighted coming forth?”

  The Ancestor bit at claw tip and then went to look at the blocks which stood for the level ways. “If the war machines go no faster than rumblers, and if those we have put in place do hold them back for a space—” He broke off as Liliha came running lightly across the chamber. In her hands was a wide dish of metal and in its center a cone. Furtig recognized it as what the In-born used to measure time. Gammage took it and spanned the cone with two claws.

  “Light this at your first warning. Let it burn as far as I have marked it—then give us your signal.”

  So at both ends there was a small length of time—time for Foskatt and the scout below—time for himself.

  “These go with you.” Furtig pointed to
his messengers. He caught up the covering on the divan, ripped it apart, and went to a window.

  “See, when the scouts' signal comes that they move out below, and this burns to the line—I shall fire this with the lightning thrower. It will blaze in the window, and you, seeing it, can set off your weapon.”

  He hoped it would work. At least the arrangement gave him a small chance. The others left, taking the last of the bundles with them. If Massa was right—how much of the lairs would be lost? But better lose all than their lives and have the Demon and Rattons rule.

  Furtig went back to the divan and sat down. Now he must concentrate on the messages. His skin itched as if small bugs crawled over his body. He licked his lips, found that now and then his hands jerked. With all his might he strove to control his body, to think only of Foskatt and the other scout—think—and wait.

  It had been two days since the Demons had agreed to aid them. What had the Rattons and the other Demon been doing all that time? Putting machines to work—? All the pictures the hidden scout had taken were essentially the same. Apparently some machines had been discarded—others chosen—

  How much longer—a night, another day? The longer the better as far as the rest of the People and their allies were concerned. They would be on the move away, back from this whole section of lair which was now a trap. Only the Demons and the war leaders would stay with the power broadcaster.

  Periodically Furtig contacted the scouts. Each time the report was the same—no sign of any attack. Night came. Furtig ate and drank, walked up and down to keep mind and body alert.

  He had returned to the divan when the long-awaited signal came—from Foskatt.

  Instantly Furtig ordered the other scout to withdraw, then touched the cone on the plate with a drop of liquid. There was a burst of blue flame, followed by a steady burning. Furtig drew the lightning weapon, hurried to the doorway, his attention divided between the cone and the bundle of stuff in the window.

  Longer than he had thought! Had he mistaken the markings Gammage had made on the cone? He held the dish—no, there was the line clear to be seen. Now he looked at that other measure which Ayana had given him, ready to depend upon it when the dish light marked the time.