Earth-Thunder

by Patrick Tilley

  This claim triggered murmurs of astonishment and cries of disbelief. Cadillac stood back and introduced Roz with a sweeping gesture. ‘Rain-Dancer! Fourth and last of The Chosen! She will show you the magic that will confound our enemies!’

  As Roz cast her gaze slowly around the ring, an eerie silence descended. ‘Stretch out your right hand towards me, and close your fist!’ The wordsmiths and elders did so. ‘And you!’ she cried, to the crowd pressing in around the seated delegates.

  The front ranks obeyed. Those further back, and people passing by, did not feel the same compulsion.

  Cadillac found his right hand was also extended towards her and hoped whatever image she planned to implant would not be too awful to contemplate. He tried to catch her eye but she was already pivoting on her heel, snaring the minds of those around her with another spell-binding illusion.

  Cadillac, like the crowd of spectators was pleasantly surprised to find himself holding the stalk of a bright red flower which opened in the blink of an eye. Cries of delight and amazement burst from those around them, but they were short-lived. As the perfume from the red bloom reaches their nostrils, it became a thorn-stick with razor-sharp spikes like eagle’s talons! And where the hand gripped the stick, the startled holder could feel the thorns buried deep in his flesh.

  Many of those caught up in the mind-spell tried to let go, but each attempt to loosen their grip had the effect of tightening it even further. Blood oozed between their fingers and down the lower part of the stalk. The pain was considerable, but not unbearable. Mutes had an incredibly high threshold of pain. It was more the shock of the brutal transformation that caused them to cry out. But as they did so, the thorn-stick became a wriggling snake poised to sink its fangs into their forearm!

  Roz allowed them to open their hands. The result was total pandemonium. Everyone leapt to their feet, hurled their snake to the ground and stampeded away from the centre, leaping and hopping over the carpet of writhing serpents thrown down by those behind them.

  Cadillac held grimly onto his. He knew that none of this was real but his brain thought otherwise, and he had to force himself to grip the rattlesnake when all his instincts were telling him to throw it away! And at the very instant his will failed him, the snake in his fist became another red flower which promptly vanished leaving only its scent lingering on the air.

  The power which Roz was able to exercise, its scope, the ease with which she had snared several hundred people in her mental net was incredible. Those on the fringe of the crowd whose minds remained untouched could not, of course, see the flowers, thorn-sticks or snakes. All they saw was a crowd of elders recoil from their empty out-stretched fists then leap up and run in all directions, hopping and skipping as if they were walking on red-hot coals.

  Since the front rows of standing spectators had also turned tail, those on the fringe were obliged to give way. Jostled from all directions by senior clansmen of every stripe and colour babbling about a plague of snakes, they stared at the empty ring, totally bewildered by the eccentric behaviour of their leaders.

  There was not a single snake to be seen. Discarded mocassins, sandals and leather helmets lay in the grass around the two people who had stood their ground – Cadillac and his smooth-boned female companion, Rain-Dancer.

  Having retreated to a safe distance, the wordsmiths, elders and the smitten front rows of onlookers also turned and realised with some embarrassment that it had all been a trick of the mind. Some, whose sense of self-importance could not permit the idea they had also been made fools of, covered their confusion by a show of anger. Leading the surge back into the ring, the protestors closed in on Roz, waving their fists and hurling abuse.

  Cadillac appealed for calm but she was ready for them. Ice-cool, determined, and in complete command of the situation, it was hard to believe this was the same Roz who had fled yelping in panic from the dappled grey mare. To the horror of those around them, the fists of everyone making a menacing gesture burst into flame. And this time, the pain was excruciating.

  Screams and curses filled the air as those around the stricken protestors tried to smother the flames with articles of clothing. But as they did so, the flames vanished, leaving the flesh unmarked and whole. Everyone fell to their knees around Cadillac and Roz. Truly, this was great and terrible earth-magic!

  ‘Will you not learn?!’ shouted Cadillac angrily. ‘What more proof do you need?!’ He pointed at Roz. ‘The power of Talisman flows through her! Our enemies are helpless against her magic because they only see what we wish them to see, and hear what we wish them to hear!’

  Roz pivoted on her heel, capturing the circle of kneeling spectators in one sweeping glance. Those nearest to her cowered away from her then gasped as she and Cadillac vanished from sight. More cries of amazement, some of the hardier spirits started to rise and were immediately flattened as the earth trembled beneath their feet and a deafening peal of thunder split the sky over their heads.

  Everyone fell on their faces and hugged the ground. The day the earth moved was a folk-memory seared into the minds of every Mute since the War of a Thousand Suns. A prolonged earth-tremor turned the bones of even the bravest warrior to jelly.

  Once again, no one beyond the circle felt the ground shake or heard the thunder. Cadillac and Roz had not vanished. They only appeared to do so in the minds of those who had fallen under her spell. And when they both reappeared it was to an almost universal roar of acclamation.

  Heyy-YAHH! Heyy-YAHH! HEYY-YAAHHH!!

  The cheers that were less than fulsome came from the throats of those still shaken by the experience of having seen their right fists burst into a ball of flame.

  Thrilled to be playing host to such an outstanding duo, their adoptive clan insisted on placing a special guard around the hut which the M’Kenzis had put at their disposal. Taking her cue from Cadillac, Roz accepted what was, for the egalitarian Mutes, a signal honour. She had never been treated like a VIP before.

  Cadillac took it all in his stride. Teaming up with Roz had dramatically increased his standing, but it was no more than his due. They were, after all, The Chosen – and about to risk their necks for the Plainfolk.

  ‘You’re getting better by the day,’ he said, as the residue of the meal that had been prepared for them was cleared away. It had been cooked by three M’Kenzi women who had remained on their knees with their eyes averted while serving the various courses.

  ‘I seem to have frightened everyone half to death,’ replied Roz.

  ‘That won’t do us any harm. You know what the biggest problem is with the way Mutes run things? They talk too much. Everyone feels they have the right to stick their oar in.’

  ‘Oar …?’

  ‘A shaped wooden pole the fisherfolk use to propel their boats through the water.’

  ‘Ahh … Don’t you think that’s a good thing – people having a say in what happens to them?’

  ‘In theory, yes – but where has it got us? Too many conflicting opinions and aspirations. No cohesion. No vision! What the Plainfolk need is strong leadership!’

  ‘Isn’t Talisman supposed to provide that?’

  ‘Talisman isn’t here!’ snapped Cadillac. ‘For heaven’s sake, Roz! I’m talking about what needs to happen now! We’re facing a threat from the Iron Masters and the Federation. The Plainfolk can only survive if they get organised. Someone’s got to grab these guys by the scruff of the neck and start banging heads together.’

  Roz eyed him as she washed the meat juice off her hands in the bowl that had been laid reverently in front of her. ‘And is that what you see yourself doing?’

  ‘With your help, yes.’ He met her eyes with a confident smile. ‘I feel ready to take charge – why be coy about it?’

  ‘Why indeed?’ said Roz. ‘You sound just like Steve!’

  Cadillac wasn’t sure if that was a reproach or a compliment. ‘Really? I know one thing. If he was in my place he’d go for it.’

  ‘Yes … I imagine
that’s just how the Founding Father felt.’

  ‘This is not like that.’

  ‘I hope not,’ said Roz. ‘I don’t want to find myself being ruled by another First Family.’

  Cadillac fixed her with a searching glance. ‘What if you were part of it?’ His question was met With silence. He tried again. ‘Somebody has to lead. Will you follow?’

  Roz thought about it for a while then replied with a fatalistic shrug. ‘The Wheel turns, The Path is drawn.…’

  Cadillac reached out, took hold of her hand, and coaxed her to her feet. ‘Then let’s take it – one step at a time … together.’

  Chapter Four

  While Cadillac had been touring the encampment in an effort to gather support for his grand strategy, Roz had been busy on his behalf, trawling the open-air bazaar for Iron Master swords, clothes and accoutrements.

  Cadillac wanted to acquire two complete sets of samurai battle-dress, from the items that were being offered under the barter system by which goods were exchanged. All the Iron Master clothes and artefacts now on display had been stripped from the gaping hulks of the wheel-boats and the sodden mud-caked corpses of their crews but they were not all on offer. Some adorned the vendors, and many of the She-Kargo and M’Waukee warriors were carrying sheathed samurai swords. Others had claimed the brass helmet crests and various other decorative bits and pieces as battle trophies and these were now attached to their own hand-sewn headgear and chest-leathers.

  By the time Cadillac was called upon to formally address the assembly of wordsmiths, elders and paramount warriors, Roz had mentally noted the whereabouts of most of the items he had asked her to find. The trouble was, they had precious few goods of their own to exchange. Her stunning demonstration of mind-control solved the problem. When she visited the bazaar on the following day, the vendors competed for the honour of her custom, eagerly offering to give her whatever she required.

  All those with samurai clothes and armour were asked to match up complete outfits using design motifs, cord-knotting and colour-trim as a guide. It took a whole morning to sort out the various bits and pieces but finally, with the help of Roz’s analytical eye, the vendors managed to assemble several dozen sets which were laid out for Cadillac’s approval.

  Roz accompanied him down the line. His aim was to find the clothes, swords and head-gear of two high-ranking officers. Every time he came to a particularly fine-looking helmet he asked its new owner to place it in his hands. Roz and those around her watched with hushed attention as he felt its shape and texture. Sometimes that was enough, but if he got a positive feedback, he put the helmet on his head and closed his eyes, creating a stillness at the centre of his being.

  In this trance-like state, he was able to draw from the metal a series of pictures which gave him the identity and essence of the owner. After a dozen or so tries he struck lucky, and by the time he reached the end of the line he had found the helmets worn by Samurai-General Oshio Shinoda, the supreme military commander of the ill-fated expedition, and one of his senior officers, Samurai-Major Akido Mitsunari.

  Shinoda’s helmet had been correctly matched to his breast-plate, back and hip-armour but the rest of the apparel did not belong. Finding it was not too difficult. Once Cadillac had tuned in on the residual vibrations of the dead owners he was able to assemble some eighty per cent of their original outfits from amongst the items on offer. Replacements for the missing gloves, shoes and, in the case of Shinoda, his swords, were chosen to blend in with the overall style and colour.

  The last items on Cadillac’s shopping list were two saddles and full sets of tasselled harness. It was not necessary to match them to the battle colours of the riders. Not a single Iron Master or horse had survived the massive tidal wave but if, by a miracle, some had, it was highly unlikely that those who staggered from the receding waters would have emerged with their original mount.

  The raggle-taggle effect reinforced the story that Cadillac intended to present as his passport to Sara-kusa – the fortress home of the Yama-Shita family. Making use of his ability to speak fluent upper-class Japanese Cadillac proposed to journey with Roz into the enemy heartland, disguised as high-ranking samurai – the sole survivors of the trading expedition.

  The ferocious steel masks which had earned them the name of ‘dead-faces’ would camouflage their Mute identities for most of the journey, but for the occasions when people came within close range or in situations where they could not remain masked, Cadillac was relying on Roz’s magic to convince any Iron Masters they met en route that they were aiding the return of their own kind. And that included their new vassals, the Mute clans from the bloodline of the D’Troit.

  Cadillac’s plan of action was staggeringly ambitious. On their arrival at Sara-kusa, his first objective was to re-establish the trading links between the Yama-Shita and the Plainfolk, sweetening the arrangement by offering – once again – the secrets of powered flight and other aspects of Tracker technology he had acquired from dipping into the minds of Steve, Malone and his renegades.

  If the Yama-Shita family proved amenable, Cadillac intended to reveal how Lord Yama-Shita had been betrayed and killed, and his family humbled, by an unholy alliance between the Toh-Yota shogunate and the Federation. Having already escaped from Ne-Issan with Steve, Clearwater, Jodi and Kelso, Cadillac now knew enough about the cosy relationship between AMEXICO and the spy network controlled by Ieyasu – the Shogun’s uncle and principal advisor – to blow the Toh-Yota family out of the water.

  At the very least, this information would result in a messy civil war; at best, the Progressive Party led by the Yama-Shita would sweep aside the Toh-Yota and gain control of Ne-Issan. With the country torn apart by war, the Iron Masters would be unable to implement any policy they might have for territorial expansion, and if the Progressives gained power, the Amtrak Federation could not ignore the threat to its own position. It would be compelled to intervene, diverting men and resources away from their centuries-old conflict with the Mutes.

  If Roz was able to keep them both alive long enough for him to lay this information before the new leaders of the Yama-Shita, he had not the slightest doubt that, in one short visit, he could destroy the status quo and plunge the continent into a ferment of blood-letting from which the Plainfolk would emerge victorious.

  Cadillac outlined the broad aims of his plan to the assembled delegates but did not go into details. The tangled web of plot and counter-plot hatched by the opposing parties, and leyasu’s treacherous use of the Dark Light to suppress those who sought to resurrect it would only have served to confuse his audience. Persuaded by his eloquent presentation and the indisputable power of his companion’s magic, the delegates applauded the plan and wished them both a safe and speedy return.

  It only remained for the delegates to arrange a new date and meeting place. There were many who supported a return to Du-Aruta. Cadillac argued against this proposal. If the Plainfolk were to deal with the Iron Masters on equal terms, the trading post had to be located on ground of their choosing, beyond the range of the wheel-boats’ cannon and the threat of a surprise attack by a waterborne army.

  Never again, said Cadillac, must the Iron Masters vessels be allowed to dominate the skyline and the proceedings. Sioux Falls – the place the Mutes called Big White Running Water – was situated near the centre of Plainfolk territory; the journey would not only be much shorter for all concerned, the convergent movement towards it would also be a symbolic coming together, as opposed to a long parallel pilgrimage to the shores of the Great River.

  From this day on, the Iron Masters would have to carry their goods across a Plainfolk sea of red grass. And instead of the alien timbers erected by the dead-faces, a new trading post – made up of elements representing each of the bloodlines – should be planted in the ground. His words triggered a heated debate. When this showed no sign of exhausting itself, Carnegie-Hall called for a vote. It was close, but after a recount, Cadillac’s challenging call for a new s
tart and a new tougher attitude carried the day.

  To ensure the new composite post fitted together, the dimensions of each piece were agreed, and from the clans who volunteered their services, five were given the honour of making them. They, in return, promised to deliver their part of the post to Sioux Falls for erection when the Plainfolk Council reassembled at the traditional time – the beginning of May in the following year. If all went as planned, Cadillac and Rain-Dancer would return on the first of the wheel-boats and lead the Iron Masters from the shore of the Great River to the lands once held by the Southern Da-Kota.

  Escorted by fifty hands of warriors drawn from the five blood-lines represented at the Council, Cadillac and ‘Rain-Dancer’ headed north-eastwards on the next leg of their journey – a seven hundred mile ride from Sioux Falls to the Straits of Mackinac, where the northern tip of Lake Michigan made a sharp right hand turn to merge with the western end of Lake Huron.

  They were dressed as Iron Masters, but flying from the tip of their tall lances were the green and gold cloth banners that had become the colours of the Chosen, heralds of Talisman.

  At the northern end of Green Bay, Cadillac and Roz bade farewell to their escort, removed the banners from their lances, and pressed on alone into territory known to be occupied by clans from the D’Troit. Following the decision of their leaders to adhere to the secret pact with the Yama-Shita family, the last one hundred and twenty miles passed without a hitch. Each clan escorted them reverentially across their turf, then handed them over with some ceremony to the next group down the line.

  Cadillac’s objective was navref Cheboygan, one of the five out-stations set up by the Yama-Shita in what was mainly D’Troit territory, to encourage year-round trade and to gather intelligence.

  The out-stations consisted of a house-boat – a smaller version of the rear paddle-driven Great Lakes tradeships, a wooden jetty and a modest on-shore installation – mainly small timber buildings and animal pens housing stores and various kinds of livestock the Iron Masters reared for the table. The extent and sophistication of these facilities depended on the degree of energy and enterprise of the Resident Agent and his wife, and the thirty-five sea-soldiers and domestic staff under their command.