Earth-Thunder

by Patrick Tilley

  His heart quailed at the prospect. From early childhood he had longed for greatness, craved recognition, adulation, standing. It was there for the taking, but would the warriors and wordsmiths of the other She-Kargo clans listen? He was not even twenty years old!

  If only Clearwater was here! And Brickman too, with his flair for action and his devious mind. It was impossible to discover what his true motives were, but in their daring attack on the wagon-train, their talents had meshed smoothly and – for the first time – they had managed to work together without the usual back-biting.

  Brickman, of course, would want to take charge, but his presence would be a challenge that he, Cadillac, would have to surpass. And it would not be like it was before. Roz had changed all that. She had restored the balance. He was no longer the odd man out. Her presence had given him the strength to face the woman he had lost and her chosen partner without any of the past bitterness and pain.

  It was a great pity the other two were not here to witness this change and work with him in this new spirit of cooperation. It would have made his present task a lot easier. But they weren’t, and there was not the slightest chance of them appearing magically over the horizon if things got tough. For the first time in his life he was faced with making major decisions without the steadying counsel of Mr Snow, Clearwater and, yes, even Brickman. This was the testing time he had both longed for and secretly feared. Roz, he knew, would help in every way she could, but he had to set the goal, take the lead, the responsibility – and the blame …

  Cadillac walked over to where Roz was trying her hand at making another batch of flat-bakes. She looked up at him and wrinkled her nose. ‘’Fraid I’m not having much success.’

  He hunkered down beside her, picked up an iron ladle and took a sample of the mixture, testing its liquidity by pouring it back into the bowl. ‘Too much water.’ He tried one of the burnt offerings. ‘And not enough salt.’

  Roz sank back on her heels with a sigh. ‘I don’t believe this! Only three ingredients – bread-meal, water and salt. How the heck can it go wrong?!’

  ‘There’s more to it than that. There’s the temperature of the cooking stone, the amount of mix you pour on and the way you spread it.’ Cadillac took charge of the mixing bowl, added more bread-meal and salt to correct the imbalance and stirred until it achieved the right consistency. He then checked the heat of the stone by pouring a thin stream of water onto it. ‘That’s okay. See the way it pops and dances as it boils off?’

  Roz nodded and watched as he filled the ladle to the brim and with a practised flourish, quickly poured a ring of creamy dough mix then, spiralling inwards towards the centre, filled it with the last drop.

  ‘There … see? The right size, just over a hand’s breadth across, nice even thickness.’

  ‘Hmmff!’ Roz took the offered ladle, filled it to the brim and managed a lop-sided imitation. ‘Is there any rule that says they have to be round?’

  ‘No,’ laughed Cadillac. He lifted the edge of the first bake with a flat tapered wooden flip shovel and turned it over. ‘But once you start pouring, keep going – otherwise it’ll fall apart.’ He removed his neat, circular flat-bake from the stone and passed Roz the small shovel. ‘Don’t overcook the top side, otherwise it gets too brittle. Just leave it long enough to brown.’

  ‘Yeah…’ Roz tried to turn her mis-shapen bake over. It broke into several curved fragments. ‘Damn!’

  ‘Never mind. It’s still eatable.’ Cadillac picked up a fragment, blew on it then took a bite. ‘Delicious. You just need more practice, that’s all.’

  Roz handed him the mixing bowl. ‘Show me again, champ. Several times.’ She watched Cadillac produce ten more faultless flat-bakes in as many minutes then, when she was allowed to start turning the next batch over, she said: ‘I thought this was women’s work – like fishing.’

  Cadillac smiled. ‘The only real women’s work is bearing children. The normal everyday tasks are shared by everyone in the clan regardless of sex and age. If the women seem to have cornered certain tasks, it’s more a question of aptitude and convenience. There are no hard and fast lines of demarcation. The females fight, and the male warriors can prepare food and make flatbakes. Comes in handy when you’re away on a hunting expedition.’

  ‘Yes, well, it’s going to take me a while to settle in. I feel so useless! Nothing I’ve learnt up to now has prepared me for any of this. If you were to break a leg it would give me a chance to prove I was actually capable of doing something.’ Roz laughed. ‘On second thoughts, don’t. All I know is medicine the way it’s practised in the Federation. I could probably give you a diagnosis, but without the equipment and the drugs I probably wouldn’t be able to cure you!’ She toyed with her neck. ‘It’s really strange. I’ve carried a stethoscope round my neck for so long – and now it’s not there, I feel half-naked!’

  Cadillac ruffled her hair playfully. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll tell you everything I know about Mr Snow’s herbal remedies, and show you the plants he gathered – and later on, you’ll have a chance to meet other healers.’

  ‘Okay. But it’s not the same thing. You already know all that.’ Roz tapped her chest. ‘I want to bring something to this relationship.’

  ‘You already have.’

  She read the look in his eye. ‘Yes. But agreeable though it is, liberating your sex drive is a social attribute, not a workskill. I’m talking about making a positive contribution.’

  ‘Roz! You’re already doing that by just being here! The hunting, gathering, cooking and all the other things – that’s something we can do together. You’ve adapted even quicker than Steve did, and before long, your natural abilities will express themselves. Just take it easy. We have all the time in the world.’

  Cadillac’s last words triggered a sudden pang of anxiety. ‘Do we?’ Roz forced a smile to her lips. ‘It’s strange to think I’ve known about you all these years – well, three, but it seems longer – and never once did I dream that…’

  She took hold of his hands. ‘Whatever I felt before – when I thought I was having a good time – is nothing compared to the way I feel now.’

  ‘Me too…’

  Roz tightened her grip on his hands. ‘I don’t want it to end. Ever.’

  ‘Nothing is for ever, Roz. But I promise you this. As long as I have breath in my body, you and I will be together. My feelings for you will never change. I will care for you and protect you.’

  ‘No,’ said Roz. ‘That’s my job. Let me at least earn my keep.’

  ‘That’s something we need to talk about.’

  Cadillac hesitated. Ever since they landed in Wyoming he had been holding back a question which he hoped she would answer in the affirmative. Be it ‘Yes’ or ‘No’ he couldn’t put it off any longer. ‘This telepathic link you share with Steve. Does it work with me? Can you reach into my mind?’

  Roz shook her head regretfully. ‘If it did, you’d know about it. On the other hand, you and I have something he never had.’

  ‘I know…’

  ‘But you’re still upset.’

  ‘Not really. Not about that, anyway.’

  ‘Is it this meeting of the Plainfolk at Sioux Falls?’

  ‘Partly. That and staying alive.’

  Roz placed her hands on his thighs, leant forward and kissed the base of his throat. ‘Our lives are in the hands of Talisman. I never thought I’d have to tell you that.’

  ‘You don’t. It was, well – a slip of the tongue. When something good happens to you – like what’s happening between us, you don’t want to lose it … makes you realise how precious life is.’

  ‘And how precarious…’

  ‘Exactly. The four of us may have been born in the shadow of Talisman but that doesn’t mean to say we’re destined to live happily ever after.’ He saw her eyes cloud over and moved on rapidly. ‘Sioux Falls is about five hundred miles from here. We ought to leave soon to make sure of getting there in good time.’

&
nbsp; The image of the fearsome Shakatak D’Vine and the vicious duel they fought came into his mind. Thing is – there are quite a few D’Troit and C’Natti clans between here and Sioux Falls. They may not be too pleased to find us treading on their turf.’

  ‘We could always fly there.’

  Cadillac shook his head. ‘We can’t. Remember those bear steaks we had the other day?’

  ‘Unforgettable. They were enough to put me off meat for the rest of my life.’

  ‘Yeah, well, I collected those up in the hills when I went up to check out the Skyhawk. Didn’t set out to, but I found myself halfway there, so…’

  ‘You went…’

  ‘Yeah. And when I got there, I found a whole family of ‘em – climbing all over it. A big male, about nine feet tall on his hind legs, two mothers and five cubs –’

  ‘Babies? Oh, I wish I’d been there!’

  ‘I’m glad you weren’t. The port aileron had been torn off and they’d ripped great holes in the underside of the wing. It was lucky I had my carbine.’

  ‘Did you manage to drive them off?’

  ‘And store up more trouble? Of course not. I killed them.’

  ‘Oh, Caddy! How could you?!’ Roz pounded his shoulders with her fists.

  Cadillac caught them and squeezed hard. ‘Listen!’ he hissed. ‘The bear is an animal you don’t mess around with. Those cuddly little babies you’re so upset about grow up to be big and mean, with paws twice the size of a man’s hand and claws that can tear your head off your shoulders with one swipe!’

  Roz was surprisingly strong but it wasn’t the physical force she exerted that made him let go. It was the look in her eyes. The same look that had chilled Steve to the marrow.

  ‘Not my head…’ She stood up.

  Cadillac got to his feet with a placatory gesture. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was –’

  ‘You didn’t…’

  ‘Roz. There’s another question I need an answer to. The night we…’

  ‘Yes, I remember…’

  ‘When you went into the hut you said – "There is no need to stand guard. My power will protect us both." Steve mentioned something about it. Are you a summoner – like Clearwater?’

  ‘A kind of summoner perhaps. I’m not sure. I have never seen anyone use earth magic. And I have not seen or read a seeing-stone, but now and then – like you – my mind receives glimpses of the future.’

  ‘Why do you smile?’

  ‘Because Steve has always thought he was gifted with a sixth sense, second sight. But it was I who glimpsed what was going to happen, and sent a message – in that same instant – into his mind.’

  Cadillac stared at her in surprise. ‘So … that evening, when the two of us were on the shore of Lake Mi-Shiga and I saw the sea burning, it was you and not Steve –’

  ‘– who saw you trapped underwater and about to drown. Yes. From that moment on I knew you were both approaching a point of extreme danger. I didn’t have the full picture, but I kept my mind open – ready to receive and act upon Steve’s call the minute he came through.’

  ‘Amazing…’

  ‘No more amazing than the gifts you and Clearwater possess. I’m glad I was there to help. Otherwise you and I wouldn’t be here now.’

  ‘No. This other power Steve spoke of…’

  ‘Ahh, you mean this…?’

  Cadillac found himself looking at Clearwater. And then, as he reeled back in astonishment, Clearwater became Steve Brickman, and then, before he could react fully, Brickman became Mr Snow!

  ‘Old One!’ cried Cadillac, stumbling forward.

  Mr Snow, his blue eyes twinkling, reached out to steady his young protege, and chuckled mischievously. ‘Did you think I had abandoned you? Why do you think I brought you together with this young girl?’

  It was incredible. The voice! Every detail of his face! The odour of the skins that made up his long cloak. The bony hands, attached to sinewy arms full of vigour! He could not be imagining this, it was far too real! Mr Snow had not died on the wagon-train. He had come back!

  ‘Don’t go, Old One,’ he begged. ‘Stay with us!’

  Mr Snow met his plea with another throaty chuckle. ‘Fear not! As long as you keep my memory alive in your heart, I shall never be far away from you. The powers that were gifted to me by Talisman now dwell within her and will protect you both in times of danger! Love her and cherish her and – above all – be valiant! There are perilous times ahead!’

  So saying, Mr Snow turned on his heel, his outstretched arm describing a great sweeping arc on the ground and, as he turned full circle, Cadillac found himself surrounded by a ring of D’Troit warriors, armed to the teeth and baying for blood. His stomach turned over and his mind went numb. It was like being thrown into a pit with the Hounds of Hell.

  He turned to Mr Snow for help, but the Old One had vanished. Looking down, he found a Tracker carbine in his hands. There was a bayonet mounted under the barrel cluster and magazines in all three breeches. With trembling fingers he selected full auto and began firing from the hip, spinning round to cover the circle as the screaming warriors closed in.

  Volley upon volley of needle-point rounds chewed holes in their bodies, and shredded their faces in a spray of blood. But as each man went down, two more appeared to take his place! On they came – drawing closer and closer – the sunlight catching their flickering, probing blades.

  The roar of their voices drowned his senses. He kept firing, firing, severing knife arms, pulverising bone and muscle. He could feel their hot breath, their spittle on his face. He drove the bayonet savagely into the nearest body, felt the barrels of the carbine press against the chest of the warrior as the blade sank in up to the hilt – and found himself looking into the grinning face of Shakatak D’Vine! He shut his eyes but he could not blot out the vision, could not escape from the nightmare that had engulfed him. He felt his own body convulse with shock as a dozen ice-cold steel blades pierced his flesh, felt the hot rush of blood, the screaming pain, the crushing, suffocating weight as the warriors fell upon him and began to tear him limb from limb –

  Oh, Sweet Mother! Save me! Ahhh! A-AHHHH AAA-AA-AA HHHHHH!!!

  As his brain caved in, overwhelmed by terror, his physical and mental agonies vanished. An incredible lightness filled his body and, with it, a wonderful sense of release. He felt a cool hand upon his brow, the soft touch of lips upon his mouth. He opened his eyes and found Roz kneeling beside him.

  What was she doing here? Had they killed her too?

  Cadillac stared at her for a while, unable to understand then, as the memories of his death flooded back into his mind, he threw his hands across his face. And when that failed to halt the tide of blood, he turned over on his belly and hugged the ground.

  Roz stroked the back of his neck and whispered, ‘It’s all right. You are safe. It’s over.’

  Cadillac smelt the grass and the earth beneath him. It seemed real enough. He slowly eased himself up onto his elbows and scanned his immediate surroundings. They were alone. No shattered bodies, no blood, nothing. The D’Troit warriors whose breath, weight and steel had overwhelmed him had been summoned out of thin air. In recreating Shakatak, Roz had drawn upon and fleshed out his deepest fears. And she had used the same power to transform herself – in his eyes – into the Old One, Clearwater and Brickman.

  It was terrifying …

  She stood up and offered him her hand. As they came face to face she said, ‘If I can do that to you – whom I love – just imagine what I can do to our enemies…’

  Cadillac nodded but said nothing.

  They ate in silence and later, when their bodies came together in the dark, he had not still uttered a word.

  As he entered her, Roz whispered: ‘I know what’s going through your mind. Relax.’ She locked her legs around the small of his back and thrust upwards to meet him. ‘What you can feel is not a figment of your imagination. Trust me. This is for real!’

  And it was. Oh, ye
s! It was. It was.…

  Chapter Two

  In the heart of the Federation, a thousand miles southwest of the pine-forested slopes of the Laramie Mountains, Steve Brickman was busy working both ends against the middle.

  Six weeks after his promotion to captain and probationary membership of the First Family, he still found it hard to believe his good fortune. In Cloudlands – the large overground estate where the First Family lived in colonial-style splendour – Steve was now the acknowledged companion and bed-mate of Franklynne Delano Jefferson, a close and favoured relative of the President-General. And the liaison with Fran provided him with an entrée to the highest levels of the Family. The contacts at this stage were purely social but they provided Steve with an opportunity to make himself known and, above all, to be seen.

  In eighteen action-packed months, he had risen from a workgang in the A-Levels to the charmed inner circle at the top of the tree. And in between, he had travelled further, seen things that others only dreamt of, and had been involved in more violence and intrigue than most other Trackers would meet in their entire lifetime – and he was still only nineteen!

  Up to a few short weeks ago, Steve had always figured he had only another twenty or so years ahead of him. Trackers who avoided a violent death usually died from natural causes between the age of 40 and 45. But Steve had discovered that he and his kin-sister Roz were Plainfolk Mutes – smooth-boned clear-skinned ‘super-straights’ – reared in the underground world of the Federation.

  For some reason he had yet to fathom, Mutes had a greater life expectancy than Trackers, remaining alert and active into their mid-sixties. Like the First Family. They were also immune to the lethal radiation still present in the atmosphere – again like the First Family – a fact that had only become apparent to Steve after his arrival in Cloudlands.

  At the first mention of the name he had guessed it was an overground installation, but he had been surprised to discover it was not a sealed environment. The entire estate was open to the sky.