CHAPTER 6
"That bird of Lurgha's--" said Ross, once they were out of sight ofCassca and Lal, "could it have been a plane?"
"Sounds like it," snapped his companion. "If the Reds have done theirwork efficiently, and there's no reason to suppose otherwise, then thereis no use in contacting either Dorhta's town or Munga's. The sameannouncement concerning the Wrath of Lurgha was probably made there--totheir good purpose, not ours."
"Cassca didn't seem to be overly impressed with Lurgha's curse, not asmuch as the man was."
"She is the closest thing to a priestess that this tribe knows, and sheserves a goddess older and more powerful than Lurgha--the Mother Earth,the Great Mother, goddess of fertility and growth. Nodren's peoplebelieve that unless Cassca performs her mysteries and sows part of thefirst field in the spring there won't be any harvest. Consequently, sheis secure in her office and doesn't fear the Wrath of Lurgha too much.These people are now changing from one type of worship to another, butsome of Cassca's beliefs will persist clear down to our day, taking onthe coating of 'magic' and a lot of other enameling along the way."
Ashe had been talking as a man talks to cover up furious thinking. Nowhe paused again and turned toward the sea. "We have to stick it outsomewhere until the sub comes to pick us up. We'll need shelter."
"Will the tribesmen be after us?"
"They may well be. Let the right men get to talking up a holyextermination of those upon whom the Wrath of Lurgha has fallen and wecould be in for plenty of trouble. Some of those men are trained huntersand trackers, and the Reds may have planted an agent to report thereturn of anyone to our post. Just now we're about the most importanttime travelers out, for we know the Reds have appeared on this line.They must have a large post here, too, or they couldn't have sent aplane on that raid. You can't build a time transport large enough totake through a considerable amount of material. Everything used by us inthis age has to be assembled on this side, and the use of all machinesis limited to where they can not be seen by any natives. Luckily largesections of this world are mostly wilderness and unpopulated in theareas where we operate the base posts. So if the Reds have a plane, itwas put together here, and that means a big post somewhere." Again Ashewas thinking aloud as he pushed ahead of Ross into the fringes of awood. "Sandy and I scouted this territory pretty well last spring. Thereis a cave about half a mile to the west; it will shelter us fortonight."
Ashe's plans would probably have been easily accomplished if the cavehad been unoccupied. Without incident they came down into a hollowthrough which trickled a small stream, its banks laced with a thinedging of ice. Under Ashe's direction Ross collected an armload offirewood. He was no woodsman and his prolonged exposure to the chillingdrizzle made him eager for even the very rough shelter of a cave, soeager that he plunged forward carelessly. His foot came down on aslippery patch of mud, sending him sprawling on his face. There was agrowl, and a white bulk rushed him. The cloak, rucked up about histhroat and shoulders, then saved his life, for only stout cloth wascaught between those fangs.
With a startled cry, Ross rolled as he might have to escape a man'sattack, struggling to unsheath his dagger. A white-hot flash of painscored his upper arm. The breath was driven out of him as a fight ragedover his prone body; he heard grunts, snarls, and was severely pommeled.Then he was free as the bodies broke away. Shaken, he got to his knees.A short distance away the fight was still in progress. He saw Ashestraddle the body of a huge white wolf, his legs clamped about theanimal's haunches, his hooked arm under the beast's head, forcing it upand back while his dagger rose and sank twice in the underparts of theheaving body.
Ross held his own weapon ready. He leaped from a half crouch, and hisdagger sank cleanly home behind the short ribs. One of their blows musthave reached the animal's heart. With an almost human cry the wolfstiffened convulsively. Then it was still. Ashe squatted near it,methodically driving his dagger into the moist soil to clean the blade.
A red rivulet trickled down his thigh where the lower edge of hiskilt-tunic had been ripped up to the link belt. He was breathing hard,but otherwise he was as composed as always. "These sometimes hunt inpairs at this season," he observed. "Be ready with your bow--"
Ross strung his with the cord he had been keeping dry within the breastfolds of his tunic. He fitted an arrow to the string, grateful to be apassable marksman. The slash on his arm smarted in protest as he moved,and he noted that Ashe did not try to get up.
"A bad one?" Ross indicated the blood now thickening into a stream alongAshe's thigh.
Ashe pulled away the torn tunic and exposed a nasty looking gash on theoutside of his hip. He pressed his palm against the gaping wound andmotioned Ross to scout ahead. "See if the cave is clear. We can't doanything until we know that."
Reluctantly Ross followed the stream until he found the cave, asnug-looking place with an overhang to keep it dry. The unpleasant smellof a lair hung about its mouth. He chose a stone from the stream,chucked it into the dark opening, and waited. The stone rattled as itstruck an inner wall, but there was no other sound. A second stone froma different angle followed the first, with the same results. Ross wasnow certain that the cave was unoccupied. Once they were inside with afire going at the entrance, they could hope to keep it free ofintruders. A little heartened, he cast about a bit upstream and thenturned back to where he had left Ashe.
"No male?" the other greeted him. "This is a female, and she was closeto whelping--" He nudged the white wolf with his toe. His hands held apad of rags against his hip, and his face was shaded with pain.
"Nothing in the cave anyway. Let's see about this...." Ross laid asidethe bow and kneeled to examine Ashe's thigh wound. His own slash wasmore of a smarting graze, but this tear was deep and ugly.
"Second plate--belt--" Ashe got the words out between set teeth, andRoss clicked open the hidden recess in the other's bronze belt to bringout a small packet. Ashe made a wry face as he swallowed three of thepills within. Ross mashed another pill onto the bandage he prepared,and when the last cumbersome fold was secure Ashe relaxed.
"Let us hope that works," he commented a little bleakly. "Now come herewhere I can get my hands on you and let me see your scratch. Animalbites can be a nasty business."
Bandaged in turn, with the bitterness of the anti-septo pill on histongue, Ross helped Ashe limp upstream to the cave. He left the olderman outside while he cleaned up the floor of the cave and then made hiscompanion as comfortable as he could on a bed of bracken. The fire Rosshad longed for was built. They stripped off their sodden clothing andhung it to dry. Ross wrapped a bird he had shot in clay and tucked itunder the hot coals to be roasted.
They had surely had bad luck, he thought, but they were now undercover,had a fire, and food of a sort. His arm ached, sharp pain shooting fromfingers to elbow when he moved it. Though Ashe made no complaint, Rossgauged that the older man's discomfort was far worse than his own, andhe carefully hid all signs of his own twinges.
They ate the bird, saltless, and with their fingers. Ross savored eachgreasy bite, licking his hands clean afterward while Ashe lay back onthe improvised bed, his face gaunt in the half light of the fire.
"We are about five miles from the sea here. There is no way of raisingour base now that Sandy's installation is gone. I'll have to lay up,since I can't risk any more loss of blood. And you're not too good inthe woods--"
Ross accepted that valuation with a new humbleness. He was only too wellaware that if it had not been for Ashe, he and not the white wolf wouldhave died down in the valley. Yet a strange shyness kept him from tryingto put his thanks into words. The only kind of amends he could make forthe other's hurt was to provide hands, feet, and strength for the manwho did know what to do and how to do it.
"We'll have to hunt--" he ventured.
"Deer," Ashe caught him up. "But the marsh at the mouth of this streamprovides a better hunting ground than inland. If the wolf laired herevery long, she has already frightened away any large game. It isn't
thematter of food which bothers me----"
"It is being tied up here," Ross filled in for him with some daring."But look here, I'll take orders. This is your territory, and I'm greenat the game. You tell me what to do, and I'll do it the best that Ican." He glanced up to find Ashe surveying him intently, but as usualthere was no readable expression on the other's brown face.
"The first thing to do is get the wolf's hide," Ashe said briskly. "Thenbury the carcass. You'd better drag it up here to work on it. If hermate is hanging around, he might try to jump you."
Why Ashe should think it necessary to acquire the wolf skin puzzledRoss, but he asked no questions. His skinning task took four times aslong and was far from being the neat job the shock-haired man of therecord tape had accomplished. Ross had to wash himself off in the streambefore piling stones over the corpse in temporary burial. When he pulledhis bloody burden back to the cave, Ashe lay with his eyes closed. Rossthankfully sat on his own pile of bracken and tried not to notice thethrobbing ache in his arm.
He must have fallen asleep, for when he roused it was to see Ashe crawlover to mend the dying fire from their store of wood. Ross, angry athimself, beat the other to the task.
"Get back," he said roughly. "This is my job. I didn't mean to fail."
Surprisingly, Ashe settled back without a word, leaving Ross to sit bythe fire, a fire he was very glad to have a moment or so later when awailing howl sounded down-wind. If this was not the white wolf's mate,then it was another of her kin who prowled the upper reaches of thesmall valley.
The next day, having provided Ashe with a supply of firewood, Ross wentto try his luck in the marsh. The thick drizzle which had hung over theland the day before was gone, and he faced a clear, bright morning,though the breeze had an icy snap. But it was a good morning to be aliveand out in the open, and Ross's spirits rose.
He tried to put to use all the woodlore he had learned at the base. Butit was one thing to learn something academically and another to put thatlearning into practice. He was uncomfortably certain that Ashe would nothave found his showing very good.
The marsh was a series of pools between rank growths of leafless willowsand coarse tufts of grass, with hillocks of firmer soil rising likeislands. Ross, approaching with caution, was glad of it, for from one ofthose hillocks arose a trail of white smoke, and he saw a black blotwhich was probably a rude hut. Why one should choose to live in themidst of such country he could not guess, though it might be merely thetemporary camp of some hunter.
Ross also saw thousands of birds feeding greedily on the dried seed ofthe marsh grasses, paddling in the pools, and setting up a clamor todrive a man mad. They did not seem in the least disturbed by thatdistant camper.
Ross had reason to be proud of his marksmanship that morning. He had inhis quiver perhaps half a dozen of the lighter shafts made for shootingbirds. In place of the finely chipped and wickedly barbed flint pointsused for heavier game, these were tipped with needle-sharp, light boneheads. He had a string of four birds looped together by their feetwithin almost as many minutes. For the flocks rose in their first alarmonly to settle again to feast.
Then he knocked over a hare--a fat giant of its race--that stared at himbrazenly from a tussock. The hare kicked back into a pool in its deathstruggle, however, and Ross was forced to leave cover to retrieve itsbody. But he was alert and he stood up, dagger out and ready, to greetthe man who parted the bushes to watch him.
For a long minute gray eyes stared into brown ones, and then Ross notedthe other's bedraggled and tattered dress. The kilt-tunic smudged withmud, scorched and charred along one edge, was styled like his own. Thefellow wore his hair fastened back with a band, unlike the topknot ofthe local tribesman.
Ross, his dagger still ready, broke the silence first. "I am a believerin the fire and the fashioned metal, the climbing sun, and the movingwater." He repeated the recognition speech of the Beakermen.
"The fire warms by the grace of Tulden, the metal is fashioned by themystery of the smith, the sun climbs without our aid, and who can stopthe water from running?" The stranger's voice was hoarse. Now that Rosshad time to examine him more closely he saw the dark bruise on hisexposed shoulder, the raw red mark of a burn running across the man'sbroad chest. He dared to test his surmise concerning the other.
"I am of the kin of Assha. We returned to the hill----"
"Ashe!"
Not "Assha" but "Ashe!" Ross, though sure of that pronunciation, wasstill cautious. "You are from the hill place, where Lurgha smote withthunder and fire?"
The man slid his long legs across the log which had been his shelter.The burn across his chest was not his only brand, for Ross noticedanother red stripe, puffed and fiery looking, which swelled the calf ofone leg. The man studied Ross closely, and then his fingers moved in asign which to the uninitiated native might have been one for the wardingoff of evil, but which to Ross was the "thumbs up" of his own age.
"Sanford?"
At that name the man shook his head. "McNeil," he named himself. "Whereis Ashe?"
He might really be what he seemed, but on the other hand, he could be aRed spy. Ross had not forgotten Kurt. "What happened?" he parried onequestion with another.
"Bomb. The Reds must have spotted us, and we didn't have a chance. Weweren't expecting any trouble. I'd been down to see about a missingburden donkey and was about halfway back up the hill when she hit. WhenI came to I was all the way down the hill with part of the fort on topof me. The rest.... Well, you saw the place, didn't you?"
Ross nodded. "What are you doing here?"
McNeil spread his hands in a tired little gesture. "I tried to talk toNodren, but they stoned me away. I knew that Ashe was coming through andhoped to reach him when he hit the beach, but I was too late. Then Ifigured he would pass here to make contact with the sub, so I waswaiting it out until I saw you. Where is Ashe?"
It all sounded logical enough. Still, with Ashe injured, Ross was takingno chances. He pushed his dagger back into its sheath and picked up thehare. "Stay here," he told McNeil, "I'll be back----"
"But--wait! Where's Ashe, you young fool? We have to get together."
Ross went on. He was sure that the stranger was in no shape to raceafter him, and he would lay a muddled trail before he returned to thecave valley. If this man was a Red plant, he would have to reckon withone who had already met Kurt Vogel.
The laying of that muddled trail took time. It was past midday when Rosscame back to Ashe, who was sitting up by the mouth of the cave at thefire, using his dagger to fashion a crutch out of a length of sapling.He surveyed Ross's burden with approval, but lost interest in thepromise of food as soon as the other reported his meeting in the marsh.
"McNeil--chap with brown hair, brown eyes, a right eyebrow which quirksup toward his hairline when he smiles?"
"Brown hair and eyes, okay--and he didn't smile any."
"Chip broken off a front tooth--upper right?"
Ross shut his eyes to visualize the stranger. Yes, there had been asmall break on a front tooth. He nodded.
"That's McNeil. Not that you didn't do right not to bring him herewithout being sure. What made you so watchful? Kurt?"
Again Ross nodded. "And what you said about the Reds' planting someonehere to wait for us."
Ashe scratched the bristles on his chin. "Never underrate them--we don'tdare do that. But the man you met is McNeil, and we'd better get himhere. Can you bring him?"
"I think he's able to get about, in spite of that leg. From his storyhe's been stirring around."
Ashe bit absent-mindedly into a piece of hare and swore mildly when heburned his tongue. "Odd that Cassca didn't tell us about him. Unless shethought there was no use causing trouble by admitting they had drivenhim away. You going now?"
Ross moved around the fire. "Might as well. He didn't look toocomfortable. And I'll bet he's hungry."
He took the direct route back to the marsh, but this time no thread ofsmoke spiraled into the air. Ross hesitated. Tha
t shelter on the smallisland was surely the place where McNeil had holed up. Should he try towork his way out to it now? Or had something happened to the man whilehe was gone?
Again that sixth sense of impending disaster, which is perhaps bred intosome men, alerted Ross. Why he turned suddenly and backed against abushy willow, he could not have explained. However, because he did sothe loop of hide rope meant for his throat hit his shoulder harmlessly.It fell to the ground, and he stamped one boot down on it. Then it wasthe work of seconds to grasp it and give it a quick jerk. The surprisedman who held the other end was brought sprawling into the open.
Ross had seen that round face before. "Lal of the town of Nodren." Hefound words to greet the ropeman even as his knee came up against thefellow's jaw, jarring Lal so that he dropped a flint knife. Ross kickedit into the willows. "What do you hunt here, Lal?"
"Traders!" The voice was weak, but it held heat.
The tribesman did not try to struggle against Ross's hold, and Ross,gripping him by the nape of the neck, moved through a screen of brush toa hollow. Luckily there was no water cupped there, for McNeil lay in thebottom of that dip, his arms tied tightly behind him and his ankleslashed together with no thought for the pain of his burned leg.