Part 8 (1/2)

Yos.h.i.+ beware! came Anket's mind-shout. Bear-dogs crazy!

Maybe sabrecats-maybe Foe-maybe Tanaknowswhat”Heads up!” the samurai cried to his companions, and at the same moment Vilkas broke into vicious swearing as his chaliko reared. Something big and black hurtled out of the soup. A single amphicyon zigged to avoid the claws of Vilkas' chaliko and disappeared under the bed of the high-wheeled wagon.

Another pair, whoofing and shambling, approached the wagon from Yosh's side, intent on using the same shelter. A bedlam of howls and snarling broke out. The four giraffids in the hitch plunged and squealed. Beneath the lurching vehicle the beardogs, weighing nearly 200 kilos each, thrashed and fought and banged against the enormous wheels.

”Look out!” Jim yelled, hauling back on the reins. ”We'll get upset!”

Vilkas jabbed futilely at the furry bodies with the b.u.t.t of his long lance. His curses were lost in the tumult. Jim clung for his life as the wagon heaved like a lifeboat on the high seas and the valuable cargo thumped the side panels.

Two Tanu coercers and an operant human gold, their gla.s.s armour glowing fuzzy blue in the swirling fog, galloped up on their chalikos. But their mental efforts were unavailing in the face of the bear-dogs' frenzy.

Move back! Yosh ordered. He unsheathed his Husqvarna and now thumbed it to widest angle. The stun-gun sizzled, sweeping the ground with its beam. There were throttled yelps and moans.

One ma.s.sive shape lashed out in a final paroxysm, shattering the right front wheel of the Conestoga.

Suddenly, it was very quiet.

A tall form, luminous violet, the trappings of his mount s.h.i.+ning with the same eerie light, materialized out of featureless opacity. It was Ochal the Harper, grandson of the ruler of Bardelask and leader of the relief column.

He silenced Yosh's attempts at explanation and the excuses of the coercer knights. ”I have found the source of the madness-and the sense of unease that has plagued us all morning.” He pointed to the east. ”Out there. On the opposite bank of the Rhone. Behold!”

His powerful fa.r.s.ense projected a vision. For the shortersighted people in the train, it was as if the mysterious fog had abruptly become transparent, and the bottomland forest beyond the river as well.

Pouring out of one of the steep tributary valleys that formed corridors into the Alps came an army, arrogant in strength. It quick-marched through the ghostly fa.r.s.een jungle casting no shadows, its members dark and numberless as a horde of predatory ants, unidentifiable until Ochal's mental eye magnified them and proved them to be Firvulag. They were some four kilometres away, not generating illusion-camouflage as was their usual custom, perhaps trusting in the fog to conceal them-or perhaps not caring whether or not they were detected. They came, giants and dwarfs and medium-sized warriors clad in obsidian battledress, bearing their traditional arms and holding standards draped with festoons of gilded skulls. As they marched they hummed a war chant with notes far beyond the threshold of audibility for Tanu or humans.

But the bear-dogs heard.

The track that the Firvulag army followed led straight into the Rhone bottomland, intersecting the narrow east-bank trail to Bardelask, not half a day's march upstream.

There were at least 8000 warriors.

”It's the main host of Mimee of Famorel,” said Ochal, letting the terrible picture fade. ”Now the raids and the pretence of Howler responsibility for the outrages committed against my grandmother's city are at an end. The Little People violate the Armistice openly! Doubtless the death of Nodonn Battlemaster served to embolden them.”

One of the Tanu coercers said ”This is the opening offensive in that conflict that certain of us feared to be inevitable. I cannot speak its name! But we all know Celadeyr's prediction. Tana have mercy!”

Ochal said, ”I have already farspoken Lady Armida. My kinfolk, although hopelessly outnumbered, will defend the city to the end.”

”Shoo!” breathed Jim. ”Never saw so many spooks in my life!”

”Compared to the army that hit Burask, it's a skeleton crew,”

Vilkas growled. ”But it'll do. Bardelask's doomed-and the best d.a.m.n brewery in the Pliocene along with it! Now we'll drink nothing but plonk and jungle juice.”

Yosh sat slumped in the saddle. ”Well, Ochal-our infrared eyeball system and load of Milieu arms aren't worth a mousefart to Bardy now.”

The fa.r.s.ensor leader nodded grim agreement. He addressed the entire column on the command mode: Companions! There is no way we can reach my home city before the Firvulag do. They would surely fall upon us as we attempted to cross the Rhone to the Bardelask docks. I have bespoken the King, pleading with him to allow us to die with my Exalted Grandmother. But for strategic reasons, he has forbidden it”G.o.d save Aiken Drum!” muttered Vilkas.

-so we must regroup, then return at once to Sayzorask. Our King has told me that the futuristic equipment we carry must be safeguarded from the Foe at all costs. We will wait in Sayzorask for his orders ...

”And with our luck,” came Vilkas' sotto voce snarl, ”we'll end up marching on Famorel itself.”