"That's a hell of a revolution!" he grunted. "Twenty minutes and it's over!"
The car swept through the semidusk of the ground level of Palace Avenue to the point where the ramp curved about the base of the Atlas Building. There Jan guided it into the sunlight of the upper tier. In the afternoon glare his face was worn and haggard. Evanie, her spell of weeping over, was pallid and expressionless, like a statue in ivory.
"Won't we be stopped?" Connor asked, as Jan put on speed.
"They'll try," said Jan. "They'll block all of the Hundred Bridges. I hope we get across first. We can only hope, because they can see every move we make, of course. There are scanners on every street.
We may be watched from the Palace now."
The bridge over which they had come into the city loomed before them. In a moment they were over the canal and into Urbs Minor, where ten million people still moved about their occupations in utter ignorance of the revolution and its outcome.
The colossal buildings of Greater Urbs receded and took on the blue hue of distance, and Lesser Urbs slipped rapidly by them. It was not until they had surmounted the ridge and dropped into Kaatskill that Jan gave any evidence of relaxing. There he drew a deep breath.
"Respite!" he murmured gloomily. "There are no scanners here, at least."
"What's to be done now?" asked Connor.
"Heaven knows! We'll be hunted, of courseeverybody who was in it. But in Montmerci's rebellion the Master punished only oneMontmerci himself; the leader."
"Evanie's grandfather."
"Yes. That may weigh against her."
"This damned revolution was doomed from the start!" declared Connor irritably. "We hadn't enough organization, nor good enough weapons, nor an effective plannothing! And having lost the advantage of surprise, we had no chance at all."
"Don't!" Evanie murmured wearily. "We know that now."
"I knew it the whole time," he retorted. "By the way, Janthose Paige deflectors of theirs. Do you know how they work?"
"Of course." Jan's voice was as weary as Evanie's. "It's just an inductive field. And metal passing through it had eddy currents induced in it."
Simple enough, mused Connor. He'd seen the old experiment of the aluminum ring tossed by eddy currents from the pole of an alternating current magnet. But he asked in surprise:
"Against such velocities?"
"Yes. The greater the velocity, the stronger the eddy currents. The bullet's speed helps to deflect it."
"Did you know of these deflectors before?" snapped Connor.
"Of course. But projectile weapons haven't been used for so longhow could I dream he'd know of our rifles and resurrect the deflectors?"
"You should have anticipated the possibility. Why, we could have used" He broke off.
Recriminations were useless now. "Never mind. Tell me about the ionic beam, Jan."
"It's just two parallel beams of highly actinic light, like gamma rays. They ionize the air they pass through. The ionized air is a conductor. There's an atomic generator in the handles of the beampistols, and it shoots an electric charge along the beams. And when your body closes the circuit between themLord! They didn't use a killing potential, or we'd have been burned to a crisp. I still ache from that agony!"
"Evanie stood up to it," Connor remarked.
"Just once," murmured the girl. "A second timeOh, I'd have died!"
It struck Connor that this delicate, smallboned, nervous race must be more sensitive, less inured to pain, than himself. He had stood the shock with little difficulty.
"You're lucky you weren't touched," said Jan.
Connor snorted. "I was touched three timesthe third time by ten beams! If you'd listened to me we could have won the dogfight anyway. I blew a dozen Urbans down by firing from the side."
"You what?"
"I saw that," said Evanie. "Just before the second beam. But II couldn't stand any more."
"It makes our position worse, I suppose," muttered Jan. "The Master will be angry at injury to his men."
Connor gave it up. Jan's regret that the enemy had suffered damage simply capped a long overdue climax. He was loathe to blame Jan, or the whole Weed army, for flying from the searing touch of the ionic beams. He felt himself an unfair judge, since he couldn't feel with their nerves. More than likely what was merely painful to his more rugged body was unbearable agony to them.
What did trouble him was the realization that he failed to understand these people, failed to comprehend their viewpoint. This whole mess of a revolution seemed illplanned, futile, unnecessary, even stupid.
This set him to wondering about Evanie. Was it fair to try to bring love into her life, to rouse her from the reserve she had cast about herself? Might that not threaten unhappiness to both of themthese two strangers from different ages?
Humanity had changed during his long sleep; the only personality in this world with whom he felt the slightest sympathy wasthe Master!
A man he had never even seen, unless one of the two shining figures on the tower had been he. Like himself, the Master was a survival of an earlier time. Therein, perhaps, lay the bond.
His musings were interrupted by a flash of iridescence in the air ahead. There was a long, desolate silence as the car sped onward.
"Well," Jan Orm at last said gloomily, "it's come." But Connor already knew, instinctively, that what he had seen was the rainbow glint of one of the Master's Messengers.
"For which of us, do you suppose?" he asked soberly. "For Evanie, I guess. But don't watch itdon't think of it. It might be for you."
Evanie was lying back in the seat, eyes shut, features blank. She had closed her mind to the unholy thing. But Connor was unable to keep either mind or eyes from the circling mystery as it swept silently about the speeding car.
"It's closing in," he whispered to Jan.
Jan reached a sudden decision. A rutted road branched ahead of them, and he swung the car into it, boring toward the hills.
"Weed village in here," he muttered. "Perhaps we can lose it there."
"How? It can pass through brick walls."
"I know, but the pneumatic freight tube goes through here. The tube's fast as a scared meteor. We can try it, and" He paused grimly.
The sun was low in the west when they came to the village, a tiny place nestled among green hills.
The ominous circling thing was glowing faintly in the dusk, now no more than twenty yards away. Evanie had kept to her resolute silence, never glancing at the threatening mystery.
In the village, Jan talked to an ancient, bearded individual, and returned to the car with a frown.
"He has only two cylinders," he announced. "You and Evanie are going."
Connor clambered out of the car.
"See here!" he whispered. "You're in more danger than I. Leave me with the car. I can find my way to Ormon."
Jan shook his head. "Listen a moment," he said firmly. "Understand what I'm saying. I love Evanie.
I've always loved her, but it's you that's been given to waken her. You must go with her. And for God's sakequickly!"
Reluctantly Connor and Evanie followed Jan into a stone building where the nervous old man stood above two sevenfoot cylinders lying on a little track. Without a word the girl clambered into the first, lying flat on her face with her tiny sandals pressed against the rear.
The ancient snapped down the cover like a coffin lid. Connor's heart sank as the man shoved the metal cylinder into a round opening, closed down a door behind it, and twirled a hissing handle. Jan motioned Tom Connor to the other tube, and at that moment the flashing iridescence of the Messenger swept through the room and away. He climbed hastily in, lying as Evanie had done.
"To Ormon?" he asked.
"No. To the next Weed village, back in the mountains. Hurry!"
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE MESSENGER
THE OLD MAN slammed the cover. Connor lay in utter darkness, but as he felt the cylinder slide along the track, he thought he glim
psed for a bare instant the luminous Messenger in a flash through the metal sides. He heard the faint clang of the door, and there was a brief moment of quiet.
Then, with a force that bent his knees, he felt the thrust of terrific acceleration. Only a faint rumble came to his ears, but he realized that his speed must be enormous. Then the pressure shifted. He felt his hands driven against the front, and in a few more seconds, no pressure at all.
The cover was raised. He thrust himself out, to face Evanie, just clambering from her own cylinder, and a frightened nondescript man who muttered frantically:
"Don't tell on me! Don't tell!"
He turned to listen to a lowvoiced inquiry from Evanie, and answered in an inaudible whisper and a gesture to the north.
Connor followed Evanie as she hurried out of the building into darkness. He caught a faint glimpse of the stone cottages of a village smaller than Ormon, then they were trudging over a dim trail toward the hills black against the stars.
"To the metamorphs of the hills," Evanie said mechanically. "They'll hide us until it's safe." She added wearily, "I'm so tired!"
That was not surprising, after such a day. She started to speak. "You've beenOh!"
He saw it too. The luminous needlebeaked shape that was the Messenger, circling them twenty yards away.
"Lord!" he whispered. "How fast can that thing travel?"
"Disembodied electric force?" she asked wearily. "As fast as light, I suppose. Wellit doesn't matter. I can fight it off if I must. But hurry!"
"God!" Connor groaned. "That persistent demon!"
His voice rose in a yell of surprise and fear. The misty thing had stopped in midair, poised a moment, then launched itself at his head!
There was no pain, just a brief buzzing. Connor realized that the needlebeak had thrust itself into his skull, and the horror rested above his shoulder. He beat at it. His hands passed through it like mist. And then, in a squeaky little voice that clicked maddeningly within his very brain, came the words of the Messenger.
"Go back to Urbs!" it clicked. "Go back to Urbs." Over and over. "Go back to Urbs!" Just that.
He turned frantic eyes on Evanie's startled face.
"Get it off!" he cried. "Get it off!"
"It was for you!" she whispered, stricken. "Oh, if it had been for me! I can fight it. Close your mind to it, Tom. Try! Please try!"
He did try; over and over. But that maddening, clicking voice burned through his efforts; "Go back to Urbs! Go back to Urbs!"
"I can't stand it!" Connor cried frantically. "It ticklesinside my brain!" He paced back and forth in anguish. "I want to run! To walk until I'm exhausted. I can'tstandit!"
"Yes!" Evanie said. "Walk until you're exhausted. It will give us time that way. But walk northaway from Urbs. Come."
She turned wearily to join him.
"Stay here," he said. "I'll walk alone. Not far. I'll soon return."
He rushed off into the darkness. His thoughts were turmoil as he dashed down the dim trail. I'll fight it offGo back to Urbs!I won't listenGo back to Urbs!If Evanie can, so can I. I'm a man, stronger than sheGo back to Urbs! Go back to Urbs!
Clickingticklingmaddening! He rushed blindly on, tripping over branches, crashing into trees.
He scrambled up the slope of a steep hill, driving himself, trying to exhaust himself until he could attain the forgetfulness of sleep.
Panting, scratched, weary, he paused from sheer necessity on the crest of the hill. The horror on his shoulder, clicking its message in his brain, gave him no surcease. He was going mad! Better death at the Master's hands than this. Better anything than this. He turned about and plunged toward the hill from which he had come. With his first step south, the maddening voice ceased.
He walked on in a relieved daze. Not even the dim mist of the Messenger on his shoulder detracted from the sheer ecstasy of stillness. He murmured meaningless words of gratitude, felt an impulse to shout a song.
Evanie, resting on a fallen log, glanced up at him as he approached.
"I'm going back to Urbs!" he cried wildly. "I can't stand this!"
"You can't! I won't let you! PleaseI can rid you of it, given time. Give me a little time, Tom. Fight it!" "I won't fight it! I'm going back!"
He turned frantically to rush on south, in any direction that would silence that clicking, tickling voice of torment.
"Go back to Urbs!" it ticked. "Go back to Urbs!" Evanie seized his arm. "Pleaseplease, Tom!"
He tugged away and spun around. What he immediately saw in the darkness halted him. In a luminous arc, not three yards distant, spun a second Messengerand in a mad moment of perversity, he was almost glad!
"Here's one for you!" he said grimly. "Now fight it!"
The girl's face turned pale and terror stricken. "Oh, no! No!" she murmured. "I'm so tiredso tired!" She turned frightened brown eyes on him. "Then stay, Tom. Don't distract me now. I needall my strength."
It was too late. The second horror had poised itself and struck, glowing mistily against Evanie's soft bronze hair.
Connor felt a surge of sympathy that not even the insanitybreeding Messenger could overcome.
"Evanie!" he cried huskily. "Oh my God! What is it saying?"
Her eyes were wide and terrified.
"It says, 'SleepSleep!' It says, 'The world grows darkyour eyes are closing.' It isn't fair! I could fight it offI could fight both of them off, given time! The Masterthe Master wants meunableto help you."
Her eyes grew misty.
Suddenly she collapsed at his feet.
For a long minute Connor stared down at her. Then he bent over, gathered her in his arms, and moved out into the darkness toward Urbs.
Evanie was a light burden, but that first mile down the mountain was a torment that was burned into Connor's memory forever. The Messenger was still as he began the return, and he managed well enough by the starlight to follow the trail. But a thousand feet of mountain unevenness and inequalities of footing just about exhausted him.
His breath shortened to painful gasps, and his whole body, worn out after two nights of sleeplessness, protested with aches and twinges. At last, still cradling Evanie in his arms, he sank exhausted on the mosscovered bole of a fallen tree that glowed with misty foxfire.
Instantly the Messenger took up its distractingly irritating admonition.
"Go back to Urbs!" it clicked deep in his brain. "Go back to Urbs! Go back to Urbs!"
He bore the torment for five minutes before he rose in wild obedience and staggered south with his burden.
But another quarter mile found him reeling and dizzy with exhaustion, lurching into trees and bushes, scratched, torn, and ragged. Once Evanie's hair caught hi the thorns of some shadowy shrub and when he paused to disentangle it, the Messenger took up its maddening refrain. He tore the girl loose with a desperately convulsive gesture and blundered on along the trail.
He was on the verge of collapse after a single mile, and Urbs layGod only knew how far south!
He shifted Evanie from his arms to his shoulder, but the thought of abandoning her never entered his mind.
The time came when his wearied body could go no further. Letting Evanie's limp body slide to the ground he closed his eyes in agony. As the torturing voice of the Messenger resumed, he dropped beside her.
"I can't!" he croaked as though the Messenger or its distant controller could hear him. "Do you want to kill me?"
The sublimity of relief! The voice was still, and he relaxed in an ecstasy of rest. He realized to the full the sweetness of simple silence, the absolute perfection of merely being quiet.
He slumped full length to the ground, then, and in a moment was sleeping as profoundly as Evanie herself.
When Tom Connor awoke to broad day a heap of fruit and a shallow wooden bowl of water were beside him. Connor guessed that they had been placed there by the metamorphs that roamed the hills.
They were still loyal to Evanie, watching out for her.
He ate hungrily,
then lifted Evanie's bronze head, tilting the water against her lips. She choked, swallowed a mouthful or two, but moved no more than that.
The damage to his clothing from his plunge through the darkness was slight.
His shirt was torn at sleeves and shoulder, and his trousers were ripped in several places. Evanie's soft hair was tangled with twigs and burrs, and a thorn had scratched her cheek. The elastic that bound her trouser leg to her left ankle was broken, and the garment flapped loosely. The bared ankle was crossed by a reddened gash.
He poured what remained of the water over the wound to wash away any dirt or foreign substance that might be in it. That was all his surgery encompassed.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THE TRAIL BACK
BY DAYLIGHT THE MESSENGER was only a blur, visible out of the corner of his eye like a tear in the eye itself. The demon on Evanie's shoulder was a shifting iridescence no more solid than the heatwaves about a summer road. He stared compassionately down on the still, white face of the girl, and it was at that moment that the Messenger took up its inexorable, clicking chant: "Go back to Urbs! Go back to Urbs!"
He sighed, lifted the girl in arms still aching, and took up his laborious journey. Yard by yard he trudged along the uneven trail. When the blood began to pound in his ears he rested again, and the silent Messenger on his shoulder remained silent. Only when his strength had returned did its voice take up the admonition.
Connor hated the Master now, hated him for these past hours of torture, and for the pallor of Evanie's cheeks, and her body limp in his arms.
The sun rose higher, struck down burning rays on his body. The perspiration that dampened his clothes was warm and sticky while he toiled along, and clammily cold while he rested. Shiny beads of it were on the brow of the unconscious girl, while his own face was covered with trickling rivulets that stung his eyes and bore salty drops to his lips. And the air was hothot!
Staggering south, resting, plowing on again, it was near sunset when he approached the Weed village where they had emerged from the pneumatic tube. A man digging before a cottage stared at him and fled through the door.
The Black Flame Page 14
