Or rather, Coransee injured all three Clayarks.
Surprisingly, he fought Clayarks in the way Teray had before he’d learned Amber’s way. He killed by imitating the action of a bullet and damaging Clayarks’ vital organs. But he did it with blinding speed. He jumped from one mortally wounded Clayark to another, working as quickly in his way as Teray or Amber could have in theirs. Coransee’s Clayarks took several seconds or even several minutes to die. But once he wounded them, they were helpless. His method denied the merciful quick death of Amber’s, but it was just as effective.
The Clayarks apparently took Coransee’s kill as a warning. No more of them came into range. They stayed well back and made noise. There seemed to be more of them now, shooting their guns at odd moments, sometimes singly, and sometimes in such large numbers that they sounded like a battle in progress all by themselves.
The Patternists’ horses were skittish and had to be controlled more closely than usual. The Patternists themselves were skittish, first wearing themselves out seeking what was beyond their reach, then resolving to be content with what they could reach and assume that they were safe. But of course they were not safe. They could not know when the next Clayark with a special rifle would announce himself by killing someone.
The land around Forsyth had once contained a huge population of mutes. Mutes who had lived packed together in great cities. Clusters of the buildings left over from those cities still stood, in spite of centuries of Patternist demolition efforts. Nowadays, as Rayal conserved his power and kept himself alive, Clayarks did not just frequent these ruins. They gave up their wandering and lived in them full time. The Clayarks who had been harassing Coransee’s party picked up local support. A young outsider named Goran—who happened to be riding directly behind Teray—had his horse shot from under him. Another special rifle. The sniper got away.
Amber could have saved the horse, but Coransee ordered it abandoned. He was in a hurry. He ordered Goran to ride with Lias, the woman with whom Goran usually paired.
As the group rode on, Teray saw Amber turn and look back. He realized that she had reached back and killed the wounded horse. He found himself wondering whether Coransee would have abandoned a wounded Patternist as easily as he had abandoned the horse. Why not?
The thought bothered Teray enough so that amid a nerve-shattering but otherwise ineffective volley of shots, he rode close to Amber and spoke to her.
“Keep your eyes open. I have a feeling we’re going to have to take shelter sooner or later. And we’re not going to have time to look around for it when we need it.”
She nodded. “You think they’re going to try to pin us down, then?”
“I’m sure they are. They know by now that we’re not a linked group. We can’t just reach out and send all of them to the hell they believe in. They want Coransee and me.” He had told her about his talk with the Clayark. “And they know they’re numerous enough now to take us—along with any other Patternists they can reach, of course.”
“If you’re right, they must have an ambush planned somewhere ahead.”
“Either that or they’re just trying to work up enough nerve to come and get us. It won’t be easy for them even though we aren’t linked. An awful lot of them will die whether they get us or not.”
She said nothing for a long moment. Then finally, “There are some ruined buildings ahead. Just around the bend. No Clayarks inside—no sign of their having been inside recently.”
Teray probed ahead and found the ruins. “Good. That’s the kind of thing we’ll need. I’ll look too. It might be better to use your eyes, though. You’ll need all the rest of your awareness for the Clayarks.”
“I can manage both.”
He glanced at her. She probably could with her healer’s propensity for poking around inside and outside of things. Fine.
A moment later, as they rounded a bend, they came within sight of the ruins Amber had spotted. These were just the shells of a cluster of buildings. They were ahead of the Patternists and farther inland, away from the trail. Roofless and half demolished as they were, they could provide shelter.
The shooting had died down a little now. Most of it seemed to come from behind them, where there were hills and trees for cover. Most of the land before them now was flat and empty, covered only by tall, slowly dying grass and an occasional tree. The territory around Forsyth was semiarid. Redhill was lush and green all year, but now, in late spring, this land was turning brown.
A few yards away from the Patternists on one side was a sheer drop of about five meters. Beyond that was a slender ribbon of sand, and the ocean. The Clayarks could not shoot from that direction. In front of the Patternists and to their other side there was little cover beyond the dying grass—and the buildings, of course. But they were definitely empty. It looked as though the Clayarks would have to wait until the Patternists turned inland toward Forsyth. Not until then would there be more hills—the low hills that surrounded the sector itself. Teray could feel a general relaxation in the group.
The shot caught everyone off guard. Coransee’s horse stumbled and went down. Amber’s horse reared, out of control for a second, and the next shot went through Amber’s left hand. Teray, fearful that she would be shot again, ignored the fallen Coransee and whipped out in search of the sniper. He could not find the creature, but he did discover the place from which the Clayark probably had fired. It was a dark round hole in the ground. Teray traced it down with his perception and discovered beneath the ground a network of tunnels. Doubtless they were ancient mute structures, dangerous now, even partially collapsed. But obviously the Clayarks had found them usable.
Coransee’s horse was dead, a bullet lodged in its brain. The Housemaster took Amber’s horse and ordered Amber to ride with Teray. They rode only the short distance to the ruins, though. It was time for a rest stop, and Amber needed a protected place to repair her shattered hand. Teray needed a protected place too—to do what it was certainly time for him to do.
He sat down beside Amber on the grassy floor of the building shell. She had chosen a spot as far as she could get from the others and began to repair her hand. Her injury bothered him because healing it would leave her weakened. She had to be strong if she was to have any chance of finishing Coransee—if he left Coransee in need of finishing. On the other hand, he could not tell her to get ready, that he was about to attack. Not while there was still the possibility, however slim, of surprising Coransee. If she had been still linked with him, she would already know, and her emotional reaction would alert Coransee—and the fighting might already be over.
“I came over here to avoid spoiling anybody’s lunch,” she told him. “You won’t like this either, but stay anyway.”
“Won’t like what?”
She opened her mouth as though to answer, but instead made a kind of wordless exclamation. “There,” she said.
Teray’s eyes were drawn automatically to her wounded hand where it lay in her lap, covered by her other hand. He looked at it, then back up at her quickly, in surprise.
“What did you do?” It was a foolish question. He could see what she had done. Her left wrist now ended in a smooth pale cap of new flesh. The thing that had been her left hand lay shriveled, detached in her lap.
“It was ruined,” she said. “I had it doubled into a fist when the Clayark fired, and the bullet hit at just the right angle to destroy it.” She held up the severed hand. It was literally nothing more than dried skin and bone—a claw. A misshapen claw with at least three of the fingers held on only by shreds of dried flesh.
“Looks like something mummified,” said Teray.
“I took everything I could use from it before I shed it. I’ll have another fully regenerated in about a month. If …” She shrugged.
If she lived another month. He was grateful to her for not finishing. “So long?” he asked quietly.
“It won’t be that long. Not when you consider that it’s not the only thing I’m growing.” She
smiled slightly.
He did not return her smile. He found himself staring at the smooth, new cap of skin. It was easier to try to figure out how she had done such a thing than it was to think about the things she kept saying. “I’ll get you something to eat when it’s ready,” he told her. He wanted her to eat and be as strong as she could. Coransee’s people had located and lured in several wild rabbits. They were preparing now to roast them.
“That’s all right,” she said. “I’m not very hungry. In effect, I just ate my hand.”
He grimaced, both repelled and pleased. However she had managed it, she had kept her strength. She could fight.
She looked at him silently for several seconds, then looked away. “You have an edge,” she said quietly. “You’re a latent healer. I’m sure of that now. Your teachers were either completely incompetent or too far from you in the Pattern to be able to work effectively with you. Or maybe they were just afraid of all that raw new strength that you could have accidentally killed them with.”
“Wait a minute,” he said. “What are you talking—”
“I don’t have time to say it slowly, Teray. You’re untrained so I don’t know how much good your talent will do you. But he has almost no healing ability. You saw how he killed the Clayarks?”
“Yes, but …”
“What you learned easily, he can’t learn at all. He’s tried.”
“Amber …”
“I’m sorry. I couldn’t help realizing that you were about to go after him. And of course, he knew the moment I did. He’s coming now.”
Her last words echoed Iray’s months before, when he had fought Coransee for the first time. He looked around, concealing sudden fear, and saw Coransee striding toward him. He spoke to Amber quietly. “All right, it doesn’t matter. But you get out of here. Wait your turn.”
“I don’t want a turn.”
He touched her face. “I’ll try to see to it.”
She left, glaring at Coransee as she passed him. She was with her ten guards before they realized that they were on duty.
“I thought you’d be ready sometime today,” Coransee told Teray.
Teray considered getting up to face him, then rejected the idea. If he stood, he would have to waste part of his attention keeping his feet. He leaned back against the building wall. He was tightly shielded, as ready as he could be.
“Did you really expect Rayal to help you?” asked Coransee softly.
Teray held his face expressionless. He was almost used to Coransee invading his mental privacy by now. “If you knew I had called him, why didn’t you attack?”
“Why should I have? Only someone who had spent all but the last few months of his life in school would believe he could get help by calling on Rayal.”
Teray hit him.
The blow, not one of Teray’s hardest, bounced off Coransee’s shield. Teray struck again, testing the strength of the shield. It was like pounding with his fists against a stone wall. He remembered with longing the muteherd Jackman’s eggshell shield.
Coransee hit back, rammed Teray’s shield, not testing but trying at once to demolish. Teray’s shield withstood the blow.
Teray realized already that neither he nor Coransee would be pounded into defeat in the usual way. Something more was needed.
Teray swept his perception through Coransee’s brain as though through the brain of a Clayark.
For an instant, Coransee frowned, seemed disoriented. But he was recovering himself even as Teray swept again. Somehow he deflected Teray’s second sweep. Then abruptly he struck back.
As quick as Teray’s sweep had been, the Housemaster almost caught him unshielded. And that deflection …
Safely shielded, Teray tried to understand what had happened. It was as though he had tried to land a physical blow and had had the blow blocked by his opponent’s arm. It was not like running against the solid wall of a shield. No Patternist could lay a mind shield around his physical body. But apparently a strong Patternist could strike out with part of his strength to deflect attacks against his body. An attack that could be sensed could at the same time be deflected. Teray thought he understood. A second later Coransee tested his understanding.
Coransee struck at Teray’s head. For a confused instant, Teray thought he perceived a physical object flying at him. A fraction later, he knew what it was, and used his new knowledge with fear-inspired accuracy.
Without understanding quite how he knew, Teray realized that he had just avoided—or at least postponed—a cerebral hemorrhage. Coransee was unwittingly teaching him to defend himself. If only he could learn fast enough.
Teray contracted the muscles of Coransee’s legs savagely.
Before Coransee could stop himself, he fell screaming to the ground. He had been too busy guarding the vital parts of his body. He had not realized what agony his legs could give him.
And before he could shut that agony out, Teray hit him again—hit at what had to be a weakened, unattended shield.
And smashed through! He had a foothold.
Instantly Coransee forgot his legs and slashed at Teray.
Teray hit back hard, hit again and again. He was a man in armor battering a naked man. He had won. Surely he had …
Coransee slammed him back, hammered at him as no shieldless Patternist should have been able to. Teray fought with savage desperation, unable to believe what was happening. The naked man was beating him into semiconsciousness.
Finally, Coransee tore Teray loose from his hard-won foothold. Tore him loose, held him, and continued to batter him. There was no longer any question. Coransee was stronger.
The Housemaster broke through what was left of Teray’s shield and began beating Teray in earnest. Now Teray was the naked man.
Pain.
Teray could not think. He was ablaze with agony. He lashed out blindly. The old way of killing Clayarks—Coransee’s way: the large artery just where it emerged from the heart.
Coransee had been foolish enough to relax his defenses. After all, he was winning.
For all his speed, he could not reestablish them in time. Teray ruptured the great blood vessel.
Coransee’s attack collapsed. But even as he lay on the ground clutching his chest, trying to prevent himself from bleeding to death, he took his revenge.
Teray found himself suddenly disoriented. His head hurt. His head was exploding. He tried to reach up, clutching it between his hands. One of his arms would not work. He was going to be sick. He managed to turn his head so that he did not vomit over his own inert body. His mind was still working, still aware. In spite of the broken blood vessel in his brain, he was still conscious. He could still fight.
With his last strength, Teray swept through the struggling Housemaster’s brain. Coransee had no defense now. He was completely occupied with his injury. Teray swept over him again and again, leaving himself no strength to keep his own body alive. He was killing both Coransee and himself, but his awareness had deteriorated to such a degree that he did not realize it. He realized only that he could not hold on to consciousness much longer. That he must do as much damage as he could while he could.
He did not know when Coransee’s body went into violent convulsions. He did not know when Coransee’s muscles contracted so violently that they snapped one of the Housemaster’s legs. He did not know when Coransee bit off a large piece of his own tongue. He knew nothing until just before he lost consciousness completely. Only then did he realize that he had won. Coransee was dead.
Teray opened his eyes to a vast expanse of clear blue sky. It took him a moment to see the ragged walls of the ruin and realize where he was. He was weak and tired and ravenously hungry. He tried to remember what had happened.
Then it came back to him and he sat up abruptly. Too abruptly. He would have fallen back had Amber not been there to help him. She had come from nowhere, kneeling beside him, steadying him.
“It’s over. You’re all right. Eat.”
There was food.
Roast meat from somewhere. He stared at it. “What …?”
“Rabbit, remember? We are as encircled by wild rabbits as we are by Clayarks.”
He had been out for a while, then. They had had time to cook. That was to be expected. Coransee had all but killed him. He flexed his right arm—the one that hadn’t worked the last time he had tried to use it—and moved his right leg. Both moved easily. Satisfied, he settled down to eating roast rabbit and fresh biscuits and drinking a great deal of water. He ate in silence for several minutes, concentrating only on the food. Finally, he spoke. “He is dead, isn’t he?”
“Of course.”
“He earned it.”
She said nothing.
“I should be dead too. You saved me.”
“Healed you.”
“Did the others give you any trouble?”
“Not after they saw that he was dead. Two or three of them wanted to stop me from helping you but I convinced them not to.”
He raised an eyebrow questioningly
“They’re still alive. They’re probably going to give you trouble.”
“I can handle them now that Coransee is dead.” He looked around for Coransee’s body. She read his glance and pointed past the dusters of waiting outsiders and women. Just beyond a ragged edge of wall, he could see two outsiders working at something, digging a hole, a grave.
“No,” he said quietly.
Amber looked at him.
“The Clayarks will be at the grave the moment we leave. He’s freshly killed. They’ll gut him and eat him the way we did those rabbits. I’m not going to give any Patternist to them.”
“What, then?”
“Burn him. Burn him to ashes.” He looked at her. “Can you see that it’s done thoroughly? Are you strong enough after your hand?”
She nodded.
The Patternists had gotten wood for their cooking fire from a pair of ancient dead trees behind the ruin. Now they took more of the wood, and made a funeral pyre for the fallen Housemaster.
Seed to Harvest: Wild Seed, Mind of My Mind, Clay's Ark, and Patternmaster (Patternist) Page 85
