Deathsport

by William Hughes

  He moved one pace within their reach and Kaz reached out behind him, grabbing him by the neck and forcing his head back so that if he struggled he would not be able to inflict a poisonous bite on his captor.

  The moment the little Mutant was attacked, he went rigid with fear and his mouth opened, revealing the twin rows of razor-sharp teeth and the poison dribbling from them and down his chin. It whimpered in its throat and even Marcus, who had never seen a Mutant, only heard of the horror of them, could no longer think of it as a human being.

  He blurted, “God, it’s disgusting.”

  Deneer gasped!

  “Be careful, Kaz. It drips a poison that even we do not have a cure for. It is beyond even the power of the consciousness.”

  But Kaz held the monster solidly, its chin up so that it was unable to move its head. Now with his free hand, he brought up his Whistler and held the sharp blade under the Mutant’s chin, so that it touched the blue skin, rough and damp.

  Kaz asked roughly, “Where is the one of ours? The little one. The one your people took yesterday. Where?”

  The Mutant braced himself again, making no response and, without hesitation, Kaz Oshay pushed the sharp blade of the Whistler against his captive’s throat, not hard enough to kill it, but enough to cut the skin so that its weak blood ran down the blade like a tiny river.

  Kaz clenched his teeth as he asked again: “Where?”

  This time the little creature began to twitter and point down the passageway. Still with his teeth clenched and holding the Whistler at his victim’s throat, he spoke even more urgently.

  “Show me, Mutant. And do not lead me astray, or I will carve you before I kill you.”

  He pressed his Whistler to the Mutant’s throat once more as a reminder of his power over his captive enemy, then relaxed slightly. The little creature wheezed and began to nod its head frantically, terrified out of its mind.

  Kaz took the opportunity to change his grip, withdrawing his arm, then catching the little creature round the back of its neck, so that it could not turn and bite him.

  He started to move forward, the little creature making its small shuffling paces in front of him, still wheezing with fear. Deneer turned to Marcus, her eyes shining.

  “She’s still alive!”

  Marcus frowned and whispered back:

  “How do you know?”

  “I understand a little of their language. He has told us. He is leading us to her.”

  Marcus nodded. It was not the time to disillusion her, but he thought that it was more likely that they were walking into a trap.

  They went further and further down the twisting shaft, the foetid smell getting thicker, the atmosphere hotter. Marcus began to think that he would rather be outside in the Flash Wind than here in this thickening air.

  The little Mutant led them abruptly off the main shaft and into another one that went down at an even more perilous angle. This shaft was less well-lit than the one they had just left and Kaz, suspicious of where he was being led, jerked the Mutant to a halt, re-introducing him to the Whistler by pressing it against his throat afresh and asking in urgent whispered tones:

  “Where? Where is she?”

  Almost so frightened that it could not stand up, the Mutant pointed frantically down the shaft. Reassured, Kaz withdrew the Whistler and the group pressed on down.

  Marcus retched drily in his throat and gasped: “I think I’m going to be sick.”

  Deneer turned and grabbed him. Unexpectedly, she slapped him hard round the face, snapping him out of his distress.

  “You must be quiet, we are all in great danger.”

  The tunnel was beginning to flatten out. They were coming down to a level and, as they turned another bend in the route, the passage opened out into a huge cavern. From the noises that came from the darkened interior, they guessed it contained a large number of Mutants and was obviously their communal sleeping quarters.

  The opening out was only a few yards ahead of them and the smell was beyond imagination. Kaz smashed the Mutant against the wall and held up the Whistler once more.

  “Where is she?” He shook the creature again and snapped: “How much further is it?”

  Frantic with fear and pain, the little creature gesticulated wildly, even Marcus being able to read from the signals that he was telling them that the girl was just beyond this chamber, in the further recesses of the darkness.

  Kaz listened to his wheezing, then turned to Deneer.

  “That’s a sleeping chamber just ahead of us. She’s being held on the far side.”

  Deneer looked into his eyes, nodded and turned round to Marcus, who was straining against the desire to retch again.

  “Wait for us here in the shadow, out of the way.”

  He was indignant.

  “I want to go with you.”

  “You look all in already. You will be safer staying here and waiting for us.”

  She turned to follow Kaz and his prisoner, but Marcus, panicking, grabbed her arm.

  “Wait! What if you don’t come back?”

  Deneer looked down. “You have your blaster. Run with it.”

  “But I couldn’t just leave you.”

  She smiled at him.

  “That’s just if we don’t come back. Till then you wait for us and pray to your gods. They may bring us luck.”

  With that, she turned and started after Kaz, across the chamber of sleeping Mutants and into the gloom beyond.

  Marcus grasped his blaster in both hands and faded back into the shadows, his mind thick with “ifs”.

  Kaz held his Whistler at the throat of the little man as they started across the sleeping chamber. On both sides of the silent party, Mutants lay sleeping, making strange snuffling noises and letting off an odour of body heat that both Kaz and Deneer knew would finally have overcome the Stateman stomach and lungs of Marcus.

  After what seemed like an eternity of special foot-placing, they reached the far side of the chamber, where the tunnel narrowed once more. The passage was again lit and Kaz lifted the hostage Mutant off his feet as they sped silently down it. There was another chamber off the passage, a little way beyond the sleeping chamber and the Mutant pointed frantically for them to enter it.

  Inside was a pile of metal cages, the legacy of some long ago looting by the Mutants. There was a figure lying in one of the upper cages. The door was hanging open but it was too high up for the occupant to climb down.

  Kaz held the Mutant by the entrance to the cave, while Deneer, once she had made sure that there were no other occupants, rushed forward and woke the small figure who was lying in the cage.

  The little girl came straight into her arms and, as she took her down, Deneer whispered urgently:

  “Ssshhh . . . don’t make a sound.”

  Overjoyed, but stifling her excitement, little Karissa put her arms round the Guide girl and hugged her close as she was lifted out of her miserable prison. She whispered, “Deneer . . . I love you.”

  “And I love you.”

  Karissa said tightly: “Adriann is dead.”

  Deneer tried to comfort her as she carried her back to where Kaz was waiting with their prisoner.

  “Don’t worry. We take care of our own.”

  They paused and Kaz too smiled on the little girl.

  “We still have a long way to go. Stay close to us. Quickly now, we must go before they wake.”

  They turned out of the chamber and back up the corridor towards the Mutant’s sleeping quarters. For a while it looked as if they would be lucky. Then the worst happened.

  Two of the Mutants had wakened and were now making their way across the chamber towards them. The captured man gave an involuntary scream of warning. In one second he was dead as the Whistler cut his throat and Kaz threw him down, then shouted, “Run. Run for your lives!”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  A moment after the first cry of warning from the captive Mutant, the sleeping cave through which Kaz Oshay and Deneer ha
d to pass became a bedlam of twittering panic, as the sleeping creatures snapped into wakefulness and peered around in the darkness to find their enemies.

  Deneer grabbed the rescued Karissa in her arms and charged through the sleeping cave, praying that speed and surprise would defend her from the sharp double rows of teeth and the poison that infused their victims when they struck. Kaz, after dropping the dead body of his captive, followed behind, using his Whistler like a flail to keep the Mutants away from their path.

  Hidden in the darkness, on the far side of the cave, Marcus went rigid with fear as the noises came. He heard Kaz’s order for Deneer and the girl to run and, at the same moment, there came a flurry of sound behind him. Mutants were coming down their only escape route.

  He spun round and saw two of the little creatures shuffling round the corner, their mouths open, ready to attack. He went down on one knee and fired with the professionalism of an expert, a purely reflex action, a copy of what he had seen Kaz do.

  The two Mutants disappeared in a green flash of anti-matter and, a moment later, Deneer was at his side. She had managed to bundle Karissa under one arm and with her free hand she drew her Whistler. She went past him, shouting, “Run for your life!”

  He was galvanised into action and started after her. Kaz had stopped at the start of the ramped tunnel and had turned. Now his blade whistled through the foetid air and he cut down the first of their enemies who charged, causing the others to pause in terror for a moment. Now he ran after the others, and, after only a moment of pause, the Mutants began to charge up the tunnel after them.

  Marcus caught up with Deneer and shouted an apology.

  “I’m sorry. I had to use my blaster.”

  Behind him, Kaz gave a breathless laugh.

  “Sorry? Why be sorry? Use it liberally, use it well!”

  Ahead of them, Deneer had other things on which to concentrate. At the head of the column she had to find the way out.

  “Which way?”

  From behind Marcus, Kaz shouted, “Bear right, always right.”

  They raced on up the shaft, mindless of banging into the wall, intent only on getting to the surface and away from their pursuers. Suddenly the pack in full twittering cry behind them ceased to be their only problem. A group of six wailing, chanting creatures charged down on them out of the darkness ahead.

  Kaz pushed past Marcus.

  “Put a blast down the tunnel to hold them back.”

  A moment later he was side by side with Deneer, ready to take on these new attackers. Both Guides gave their terrible war cry and began to repel the attack. Deneer dropped Karissa, who stood behind them, next to Marcus, crouched waiting for the attack from the rear. Even in the confined space, the two Guides wielded their Whistlers like the experts they were. They whistled through the air, destroying Mutant after Mutant as they charged in, but never once did the flashing blade of one Guide come within inches of the other.

  Kaz, exhilarated by the fight, shouted to Deneer:

  “You wield a fast blade, woman.”

  She laughed.

  “No faster than yours, man.”

  Marcus put a second blast of anti-matter down the tunnel. It was not quite straight and gouged great slivers out of the rock that did as much damage to the oncoming enemy as did the direct hit which annihilated two of them. Kaz and Deneer had eliminated the charging men and Kaz shouted over his shoulder, “Run! Both of you.”

  Karissa and Marcus followed in the wake of the two Guides. They turned out of the ramped tunnel into the main corridor, to the right, always to the right.

  Nervous that they would get trapped in the caves until they were overwhelmed, Marcus shouted, “Are you sure that’s the right way?”

  Kaz called back, brief and callous.

  “If you don’t believe me—don’t follow me.”

  Up and on they ran until they could see the first glimmerings of daylight ahead.

  Running as fast as he could, Marcus could still not keep up with the special speeds of either Kaz and Deneer or even the tiny Karissa, for, while she was a child, she was also a child of the Guides. He was trailing badly as they passed the last cross-shaft and, as he went past it, he saw that the other three had reached the mouth of the cave and daylight—the Flash Wind having apparently rolled by.

  At the moment he passed the entrance to the cross-shaft, a Mutant leapt out of the darkness at him, knocking into him and throwing him down on the stone floor of the cave tunnel.

  Marcus cried out in his panic as he began to fight for his life. He saw a flash of the teeth, the dreadful double rows of sharp pointed teeth and the awful foaming mouth, dripping its foul poisonous saliva, and he rolled over trying to keep it out of contact with his body. In that movement the blaster was knocked from his grip and rolled away from him. He was dazed as his head came into contact with the rock.

  He struggled bravely, flailing out with his arms, one fist catching the dreadful creature full in the face and knocking it back. Marcus took the opportunity to dive for his blaster. He grabbed it up, but the Mutant had already recovered himself. The little creature fell on Marcus’s right leg and bit on it hard.

  As Marcus screamed in agony, Kaz was at his side and his attacker fell dead, cut in half by the dreadful blade of the Whistler.

  With one swift move, Kaz grabbed Marcus and pulled him on to his feet. They could hear the sound of the main group of Mutants pounding up the shaft after them. He let go of Marcus, who nearly fell, his wounded right leg taking none of his weight.

  Kaz moved quickly, scooping him up under the armpits.

  “Get on my back. I will carry you.”

  In his terror, Marcus gave immediate obedience to the order. As the Guide bent, he got on his back and hung on with all his ebbing strength, sobbing in agony. As fast as only he could go, Kaz Oshay raced for the entrance and the waiting Deneer and Karissa.

  Outside the sky was clear, the sun beating down. The Flash Wind had truly gone by. Deneer, seeing that Kaz was right behind her with his load, started down the slope towards their parked Death Machines. There was a new problem now. Ankar Moor and his men had already mounted their machines and an oncoming cloud of dust told the fugitives that their enemies were charging down on them.

  Marcus’s arms were beginning to weaken and Kaz had to shout at him.

  “Try to hang on! Not long now.”

  Marcus screamed, “My leg! I can’t feel anything in my leg!”

  They arrived on the flat and raced across the intervening space to their machines. Deneer was already mounted up, revving and waiting, with Karissa ahead of her, straddling the console between her and the handlebars.

  Kaz came to a halt and bent to let Marcus down. The latter managed to groan, “I won’t be able to drive my machine like this. The whole of my right leg is numb.”

  Deneer called across, “Ride behind me. I know that they have medicine for the poison in the Triton City.”

  With Kaz helping him, Marcus limped across to her machine and climbed gratefully across the back of it, hanging on to her, his arms round her waist.

  Kaz raced to his own machine, leapt on and started up. Ankar Moor and his men were closing fast. The Mutants had reached the mouth of the cave but had not come forward, pushed back by the sight of more enemies and the bright daylight that hurt their huge eyes and placed them at a definite disadvantage. They were no longer a problem.

  Kaz glanced at Deneer and managed a tight smile to buoy her courage up:

  “Go now, Deneer.”

  “But Kaz—”

  “I will divert them.”

  For a moment their eyes locked and she tried to put all her strength into him, afraid for him, going out against Ankar Moor and his men alone, afraid that she would never see him alive again.

  As he revved up his machine, she shouted across the space that separated them: “Be powerful, Kaz!”

  “I will be powerful, woman.”

  “I will be waiting for you in Triton if you show.
I will see you on the other side if you do not. Our Union is strong.”

  Kaz stared back, his mind assured.

  “I will see you in Triton, Deneer.”

  Their eyes dropped from one another. As one, they turned their machines in opposite directions and Deneer then sped away, skirting the edge of the sandstone cliffs, weaving around boulders that were at the side of the canyon, trying to stay, as much as possible, out of the view of Ankar Moor’s men as she gained speed for the run towards Triton.

  Kaz raced straight out from the cliffside, straight at the oncoming Ankar Moor and his Death Machine riders as they raced across the canyon, four abreast.

  Ankar Moor was in the centre of the avenging group of Enforcers and, as he saw Kaz Oshay, the son of Oshay, coming towards him, he shouted into his microphone: “Don’t try to hit him straight on. Fan out and flank him—move now, quickly!”

  As the line ahead of him fanned out, Kaz had to choose which of them to go for first. He decided to go for the man who was moving to his far left, on the end of the flanking movement. Exhilarated by the feeling of freedom, of fresh air pushing back the hair on his uncovered head, he shouted, more to himself than his enemy:

  “All right, you fool. Let us see how good you are.”

  Breaking to the left yet again, he went full throttle towards the sandstone cliffs, as if going for an “end” run. Ankar Moor called urgently through the microphone: “Cut him off. Dammit. Cut him off.”

  Kaz had easily cleared and avoided the end man. Now he ran into an area of scrub bush and a maze of huge boulders which bordered the sandstone cliffs, arriving in that area just a few yards ahead of the panicking Enforcer. This man was alarmed to find himself now in the forefront of Ankar Moor’s attack but, more afraid of his master than the enemy, he pressed relentlessly on.

  Tn and around the scrub, up and over boulders and round screes they flew, defying catastrophe, neither of them in position for long enough to go for the kill of destruction, each manoeuvre a little more difficult to sustain and see through to the end than the one before.

  At length, Kaz Oshay found himself zooming up a tiny, straight path, a huge mound at the end of it. At the very top, he cut his throttle with a sudden movement. Then, braking, he slid over the lip and a small way down the far side, pushing the machine off-balance and on to its side as he went down in the dirt. When it stopped, he lay it flat against the ground, swivelling it around so that the blaster pods faced up the dirt to the exact top of the mound. He flattened himself down next to it, his finger on the blaster button, waiting tensely. If any of his followers had seen the trick, he would be a dead Guide before another minute had passed.