Part 1 (1/2)

The Amtrak Wars.

Iron Master.

By: Patrick Tilley.

PROLOGUE.

Cadillac handed his bathrobe to his servant, stepped into the deep tub and sank down until the steaming water lapped his chin. Two more female dead-faces, naked except for their white cotton headscarves, stood in the water on either side of him, waiting to cleanse and ma.s.sage his bronzed body. He motioned them to begin, then closed his eyes and reflected, once again, on his good fortune. Even though he was able to read the future in the seeing-stones, they had not revealed that, in a few short months after leaving the Plainfolk, everything he had ever wished for would be within his grasp. Power, responsibility, a task worthy of his talents, and - most important of all - standing.

His life had been utterly transformed and, for the first time, he felt truly content. The warmth of the water pervaded his body, gently dissolving the flesh and bone.

With his eyes still closed against the flickering yellow light of the lanterns he had the sensation of floating, formless, like a spirit-being poured by Mo-Town into the womb of its earth mother.

He cast his mind adrift...

Shortly after Steve Brickman had soared into the dawn sky, pursued by several posses of Bears, Cadillac began the construction of a second arrowhead from the parts which the clan had kept hidden from the cloud warrior.

Armed with the skills and the knowledge he had drawn from Steve's mind, he found it proved a relatively simple task. It was also immensely satisfying, for his arrowhead was sleeker and stronger than Bluebird, the ramshackle rig he had helped Steve to build and on which he had been taught how to fly.

Cadillac smiled as he remembered how careful he had been not to learn too quickly. Brickman had gone back to the dark world of the sand-burrowers without realising he had given away the key to a treasure house of information. Using the power granted by Talisman, he had made a mental carbon copy of everything the cloud warrior knew; every fact he had acquired, every learning experience since birth. The entire range of Brickman's talents, skills and knowledge were now his to command.

Yes... the loss of Clearwater's soul was a small price to pay for such gifts.

The craft was powered by an electric motor culled from one of the Skyhawks that had fallen in the battle with the iron snake. It was the same motor that Brickman had fitted to Bluebird and then discarded just before his escape because he could not make it work properly.

Cadillac did what Steve, in his haste, could not be bothered to do; he took it to pieces, checked every part, rebuilt it with loving care, and then continued to work on it until it functioned perfectly.

Now the equal of Brickman in the air, he took off from the bluff above the settlement, skimming with the same lack of fear over the edge of the steep escarpment into the void. He felt the wind embrace him, felt its cool sweet breath upon his face; was overcome by a rapturous sense of freedom as he was borne upwards in great sweeping spirals like the golden eagles who nested on the nearby mountain peaks.

Higher and higher he went, into the sky-world with its ever-changing sunlit terrain, climbing and diving between the towering walls of the cloud canyons. From afar, they looked like vast impregnable wind-carved snowdrifts, but the curving terraces and lofty pinnacles that cried out to be explored melted away as he approached, dissolving into a soft formless veil that enveloped his craft and swallowed the sun - like the dawn mists that shrouded the earth at the Yellowing.

For this was the domain of the Sky Voices; a magical landscape that existed only in the mind's eye - serene, awe-inspiring, majestic; endowed with the same fugitive beauty as a rainbow - forever beyond the grasp of mortal man.

Looking down, everything seemed so small. The problems that were so burdensome on the ground shrank into insignificance. The sense of release was so overwhelming, he stayed aloft for two whole hours.

Even after landing, he was on such an emotional high, his feet hardly seemed to be touching the ground.

Mr Snow, in his characteristically sly way, let him wallow in the glow of self-adoration for a few days then brought him down to earth with a b.u.mp by telling him about the bargain he had struck with the Iron Masters.

He made it sound so simple: an arrowhead complete and undamaged plus a cloud warrior in similar condition in exchange for new, long, powerful sharp iron.

Rifles...

Cadillac responded with a baffled stare. There was no arrowhead. The wrecks of the craft launched from the iron snake had been picked to pieces. And the cloud warrior was long gone.

Mr Snow, seated on the other end of the talking mat, read his thoughts and answered with a glum nod. 'You're right. I guess that means it's down to you.”

Sweet Sky Mother. Cadillac went cold at the thought.

For no Mute had ever returned from the Fire Pits of BethLem.