The Amtrak Wars: Blood River

by Patrick Tilley

  ‘She says she can’t but … I take your point.’

  ‘From the conversations I’ve had with our shrinks over at The Farm, they seemed to think they could keep Clearwater damped down with drugs.’

  ‘Assuming she’s obliging enough to let someone stick a needle in her arm …’

  ‘Yes, well, there are other ways. Isn’t that why Brickman has gone to such lengths to worm his way into her confidence?’

  ‘Above and beyond the call of duty,’ laughed Karlstrom. ‘Nevertheless, he’s a worried man. And after what’s alleged to have happened at the Heron Pool, he has every reason to be.’

  The President-General scrolled quickly through several blocks of text on the VDU screen. ‘Which brings us back to Roz …’

  ‘Yes. She says she can neutralize Clearwater’s powers. If she can get close enough.’

  ‘Face to face … Is it possible?’

  Karlstrom shrugged. ‘Since we don’t have a tame summoner for her to practise on, we won’t know until she tries. But the motivation’s there. Every time she picks up an image of Brickman with Clearwater she practically has a fit. The problem is we have to take her claim to be able to do this on trust. She can’t explain the mechanics of how she’s going to defuse this Mute bitch. She just has this gut feeling she can.’

  ‘Not exactly an ideal basis on which to mount an operation of this importance …’

  ‘I agree, but we don’t have a lot of choice in the matter.’

  ‘But you are sure she’s totally committed to us …’

  ‘Absolutely. She can’t bear the idea of her kin-brother shacking up with a Mute. She’s ready to draw blood.’

  ‘Hell hath no fury like a woman wronged’, observed the P-G, paraphrasing an ancient saying. ‘And that’s as true now as it ever was.’

  ‘You should know …’

  The President-General let this allusion to his private life pass without comment. Few other people could have gotten away with such impertinence – or even dared contemplate making such a remark. ‘So what’s the plan?’

  ‘Roz claims that she and Brickman are equally gifted. He’s got the mental power to put the blocks on Clearwater – if only he would open up that side of his brain. The trouble is, the normality aspect of his conditioning is so deep-rooted, he’s doing his utmost to keep it shut down.’

  ‘Maybe that’s because he’s reverted and he doesn’t want us to find out …’

  Karlstrom shook his head. ‘Roz says he’s still with us. He’s always known he had this gift but he’s frightened of it. Being Brickman, he gets a high out of being different but he doesn’t want anyone to know about it. In a society like ours, which is based on confirmity and has outlawed all talk of magic, there’s absolutely no joy to be had by revealing you’re a telepath. But Brickman’s real problem is that he doesn’t like the idea of anyone getting inside his head. Not even Roz. Our golden boy likes to be in total control.’

  ‘I know the feeling,’ said Jefferson.

  Karlstrom didn’t rise to the bait. That rejoinder was part of the P-G’s ‘I’m just one of the boys’ routine’.

  He picked up the thread of the conversation. ‘We now have a clearer view of Brickman’s intentions. I’ve touched upon his basic concern – the possible danger to the Federation. His thoughts are now focused on ways and means of getting Clearwater and Cadillac safely to Wyoming. And by doing so, in spite of our efforts to intercept him, he hopes to win their total trust – and prove to Mr Snow that he’s a man of his word.’

  ‘And then …?’

  ‘He’s going to lay a trap for all three. Which was his original assignment. He’ll have crossed the continent to do it but … Mr Brickman is one of those young men who likes to follow through.’

  ‘I knew we’d made the right choice. Didn’t I tell you things would work out just fine?’

  ‘You did,’ admitted Karlstrom. ‘You also told me to watch him “like a fucking hawk”.’

  ‘Ahh, no … they were your words, Ben, not mine. But to be fair, they did describe the kind of thing I had in mind. Vigilance does not imply a lack of trust. In these troubled times it’s merely a sensible precaution.’

  ‘I agree. Anyway … here’s how it plays. Roz is going to maintain contact with Brickman. He’s planning to move west next spring. She’ll track him when he does, and with the snow gone she should be able to get an accurate fix on his position. In Ne-Issan, it worked like a dream. We were able to alert Side-Winder to the possibility of a rendezvous and – hey, presto – in walks Brickman, dressed as a road-runner, just like she said!’

  ‘Yes … it’s frightening.’

  Karlstrom threw up his hands. ‘I’m as unhappy about it as you are. But whatever it says in the Book, we both know that Mute magic is for real. The only way we’re going to get a handle on it is to fight fire with fire. I haven’t been allowed access to their full bio-data – despite the fact I’m working with these two kids – but isn’t this why they were raised? Why else would they be on the Special Treatment List?’

  ‘Good question.’ But it wasn’t one the President-General was ready to answer. ‘Okay … what happens in Wyoming?’

  ‘Two things. Neither of them had been worked out in detail.’ Karlstrom listed them on his fingertips. ‘First, Brickman will renew his acquaintance with High-Sierra. And second, he’ll discover that his kin-sister is on board a wagon-train. She’ll be shipping out as part of the medical team aboard Big Red One.’

  Jefferson’s eyes narrowed. ‘That’s an intriguing idea. Did she suggest that?’

  Karlstrom was tempted to take the credit but decided to play it straight instead. ‘Yes. She explained it like this. Clearwater’s able to get inside people’s heads and make them do things –’

  ‘Sort of like post-hypnotic suggestion …’

  ‘Yes. That kind of thing. She’s done a number on Brickman. Nothing drastic. Fortunately, from the mental point of view, he’s a tough nut to crack. But she’s been able to create a conflict of interests. Roz says she needs to get as close as possible in order to blast away the emotional garbage that’s clogging his brain. Being aboard Red River puts her close to the action but at the same time she remains totally secure.’

  ‘I hope so. I’d hate for us to end up losing both of them.’

  ‘No chance.’ said Karlstrom. ‘If it goes according to plan and Brickman does his stuff, our boys will be rolling home with all three lumps in the bag.’ He rose to his feet and gave Jefferson a brief outline of the projected operation, pacing up and down as he did so.

  The President-General listened intently. He also watched Karlstrom’s hands. The incisiveness of his gestures was a measure of the confidence he had in whatever plan he was proposing. When the presentation was concluded, Jefferson swivelled his chair gently to the right and gazed out of the windows at the snow-covered peaks of the Rockies set against a cloud-flecked sky of the purest, deepest blue. The definition and colour fidelity of the computer-generated image projected on the huge curved screen was amazing. The next best thing to being there.

  Karlstrom waited expectantly.

  After several minutes of silent contemplation, during which time the P-G gnawed at, and closely inspected his left thumb, he returned to face his cousin. ‘Sounds good, Ben. Let’s go for it.’

  Chapter Nine

  As spring approached, and the snow melt filled the high rock gullies with cold, sparkling water, Mr Snow’s thoughts turned once again to the fate of Cadillac and Clearwater and the cloud-warrior who had promised to rescue them. Despite the fact that no Mute had ever escaped from the Fire Pits of Beth-Lem he had no doubt that, one day, they would return. But would he be there to greet them?

  Some time before his journey to the Eastern Lands, Cadillac had drawn images of his teacher’s death from a seeing-stone. The event, news of which Mr Snow had accepted with as much good humour as he could muster, was to have taken place during The Yellowing of the previous year. But the season had come and g
one and his old bones had weathered yet another winter. The White Death had begun to relinquish its icy grip on the land and here he was, alive and well – and with no plans to return to the place by the two rivers where the stone had been found.

  Had Cadillac misread the images in the stone, or had he quite simply fixed upon the wrong year? Prior to the battle with the iron snake he had given ample proof of his powers as a seer but he was, nevertheless, still a relative novice. Both past and future events were recorded in the stones and it was often hard to tell which was which. But even when the seer recognized the shape of things to come, it was extremely difficult to establish, with any degree of accuracy, when a future event would take place.

  The white-haired wordsmith did not fear death. The Path was drawn. The Wheel turned. When it was time to go to the High Ground he would leave the world content in the knowledge that his two pupils would survive the perils ahead until they fulfilled their joint destinies. What irked him was the thought of being removed from the scene just when things were beginning to get interesting.

  Cadillac and Clearwater were the Sword and Shield of Talisman. The Sky Voices had made this clear on a number of occasions, and they had also spoken of Brickman, the cloud-warrior whose presence had been detected in the stones lying beneath the path of the iron snake. Brickman had an equally important part to play, along with the young female he thought of as his kin-sister.

  These four, who had yet to discover their true relationship with one another, were The Chosen. That much he knew. But the precious gift of this knowledge did not ease his growing frustration at the lack of precision concerning the time and place of his own demise. In Cadillac’s reading it had been linked with scenes of unparalleled carnage. Scenes which seemed to presage the total destruction of the clan. Some days later, when he and his two young charges had watched the cloud-warrior rise into the sky on blue-mirrored wings that glinted like sharp iron in the dawn rays of the sun, Cadillac had spoken more directly: ‘the cloud-warrior would return in the guise of a friend with Death hiding in his shadow’ and carry Clearwater away ‘on a river of blood’.

  Well, the cloud-warrior had returned in the guise of a friend and had offered to rescue Clearwater and Cadillac from the clutches of the Iron Masters. Since they had been chosen to prepare the way for Talisman, Mr Snow was convinced that they would be returned unharmed to the Plainfolk. But if Cadillac had got the date of his own teacher’s death wrong by at least a year, perhaps he had misread everything else. The Great Dying – the bitter conflict which presaged the birth of Talisman and would demand massive sacrifices by the Plainfolk might prove even more costly to their enemies: the sand-burrowers and the dead-faces. The ‘river of blood’, for example, instead of flowing from the bodies of M’Call warriors, might spring from the veins of the Iron Masters when Cadillac, Clearwater and the cloud-warrior made their escape.

  And what if Cadillac’s words had been tainted by jealousy and unwarranted feelings of inadequacy? Brickman’s return ‘in the guise of a friend with Death hiding in his shadow’ suggested he harboured murderous thoughts against those who had saved his life and made him welcome. But would he remain an enemy when he learned his true identity? Mr Snow planned to tell him upon his return – but when would that be?

  Drawing his fur cloak closely around his body, Mr Snow laid a talking mat on one of his favourite rocks high above the settlement. Squatting down cross-legged, he turned his closed eyes upwards and directed his mind towards the spirit world beyond the sky. An hour later, his sole reward was a frozen backside. The Sky Voices, like all cosmic intelligences which have guided the faltering steps of humankind since the dawn of Creation only communicated what they wished to make known; they were not running a citizen’s advice bureau.

  Eleven hundred miles to the east, Carnegie-Hall, the word-smith of the Clan Kojak, and his allies on the council of elders were considering seeking advice from the same source in the hope of resolving the dilemma that now faced them.

  The story of the ‘Chosen Ones’ was something that Carnegie had concocted based on the background information provided by the Iron Master, Izo Wantanabe. The dead-face, who spoke from behind a fearsome mask, had crossed the Great River to seek the aid of the Clan Kojak just after the first onslaught of the White Death. The deal they had struck involved a massive search operation well beyond the southern edge of the Kojak’s turf for five ‘travellers’. If found, they were to be lured into ‘protective custody’ with a well-nigh irresistible offer of food and shelter for the winter. And without arousing their suspicions, their departure was to be progressively delayed until early spring when Izo’s masters would send a strong force of warriors to seize them.

  If all were captured alive, the Kojak would be richly rewarded with tools, cloth and other materials, and powerful sharp iron. And the dead-face had left caged birds that were to be released at specific moments. Izo had given the word-smith short lengths of various coloured ribbons that were to be tied around one of the bird’s legs before release. The colours represented various simple messages and Carnegie-Hall had already released one bearing a white ribbon, knotted in five places to indicate the number of ‘travellers’ that had fallen into their hands. A drop of blood placed on both sides of the fifth knot indicated that one of the ‘travellers’ Izo sought was badly injured.

  It was with this detail that Carnegie’s problems had begun for in his eagerness to make trade with the Iron Masters, and thereby gain an advantage over his neighbours, he had launched the plump messenger bird soon after his warriors had returned with the first pair of travellers but before he learned that his guests were a wordsmith and a summoner, plus a third whose powers were, as yet, unknown. Singly or jointly, in a terrifying demonstration of power, they had succeeded in destroying four arrowheads, and their two companions had sacrificed their lives, shattering the body of one of the feared iron snakes with sky-fire and earth-thunder.

  Its forced withdrawal had increased the standing of the Clan Kojak in the eyes of its neighbours but it had given Carnegie-Hall little cause for satisfaction. The wordsmith now realized that the story he thought he had plucked out of the air had been placed on his lips by Talisman. By their actions, the three smooth-boned Mutes had proved beyond doubt they really were The Chosen and he was now faced with having to choose between two, equally unpleasant courses of action.

  What was he to do? Should he conceal his lies behind an increasingly nervous smile and risk the wrath of Talisman? If The Chosen discovered they had been betrayed, the terrible power that Clearwater was able to summon could destroy not only him but the whole clan! The alternative was to throw himself on their mercy, confess all, and expose the clan to the murderous wrath of the Iron Masters when they landed in the spring and found that two of the five were dead and the other three had been allowed to escape!

  Steve, Clearwater and Cadillac had also been pondering the future. Only in their case, it was not the metaphysical connection with Talisman that concerned them, but the simple down-to-earth mechanics of getting from A to B. The distances involved were enormous but what worried them most was the realization that the journey from Lake Michigan to the high plains of Wyoming would take them across an unknown number of hostile turfs, jealously defended by clans from the bloodlines of the D’Troit and C’Natti – sworn enemies of the She-Kargo.

  ‘I don’t know why you can’t bring yourself to admit that I’ve come up with the ideal solution,’ said Cadillac, when they met for the umpteenth time to discuss their next move. ‘Even Clearwater agrees that it makes sense. We stay here until it’s time for the Plainfolk to walk on the water, then we go north with the Kojak delegation to the trading post, join up with our own people – who’ll probably be led by Mr Snow – and when it’s all over, go home with them to Wyoming. The truce will cover us all the way. What could be simpler?’

  ‘Nothing,’ replied Steve. ‘It’s a brilliant idea. In fact, I wish I’d thought of it myself.’

  ‘I wish you had,’ g
rumped Cadillac. ‘Because I would’ve agreed and that would’ve put an end to all these pointless arguments!’

  ‘There’s just one thing wrong with it. If we do it your way, it means hanging around until the end of May. Towards the end of the period you call the New Earth.’

  ‘So …?’

  ‘A lot can happen in three months.’

  ‘Brickman. How many times do I have to tell you this. Nothing is going to happen to us.’

  ‘So why wait? Why don’t we just head on out and take whatever comes our way?’

  Cadillac answered with a tired sigh. ‘Because there’s no point in tempting fate.’ He raised a hand to silence Steve. ‘Yes, I know what you’re going to say, but my view on the importance of our role in the overall scheme of things are not rendered invalid by a desire to take sensible precautions.’

  Steve turned to Clearwater. ‘And this is the guy who accused me of being sinuous …’

  ‘I’m not being sinuous. I’m merely stating a fact.’

  ‘Of course. Okay. If there’s any room inside that fat head of yours for any original ideas, hang on to this. Maybe the three of us were born in the shadow of Talisman – although why he should pick on me is something of a mystery – and maybe that explains why we’ve gotten this far. Perhaps we have been put here to accomplish something, but as far as I know, nobody’s explained what that something is.

  ‘The point is this. Here you are, strutting around thinking you’re fireproof but has it occurred to you that we might have already done what was required of us? If so, what happens then? Do we become surplus to requirements? Does your big friend in the sky withdraw his protection?’ Steve was deadly serious but it was worth it just to see Cadillac’s face. Denting the Mute’s new-found authority gave him great satisfaction. ‘Think about that …’

  ‘I will. But you just shot yourself in the foot. What you’ve just said is the best argument I’ve yet heard for taking the safest road home. Via the trading post. In three months’ time.’