His comrades were under the same pressure. He heard a moan from Gordon, a little whimper from Eveleen, but he could give them no help. He was losing this one himself…
The Baldies felt their victory and increased the power of their assault. Murdock was helpless now. His will was still holding, but he could channel none of it to his body.
"No, you don't," Eveleen Riordan hissed suddenly. Her voice was low and hoarse but clearly audible to him. "Not to me, you don't."
All at once, the pressure on him vanished. The Time Agent blinked in surprise, then fixed his eyes on those in the clearing. To his amazement, one of the Baldies was clasping his head as if in agony. The other had ceased to attack; his thoughts were coiled in a protective barrier around him.
Murdock's breath caught. He recalled what the Foanna had said about Eveleen's defenses, that she, too, had mental shields but that she inflicted more pain than he did in her refusal to admit them. The weapons expert had only been guarding herself against the too-close advance of those she knew to be friends. Here, with real anger, fear, and hate to drive her, she was fighting an active battle.
She could not hold two such opponents indefinitely. Even as he watched, the less affected of the pair reached for the slender rod hooked to his belt.
Ross let fly an arrow. It missed but startled the other long enough for Murdock to slam into him, throwing him to the ground.
The spacer struck him sharply in the chest, hard enough to wring a grunt out of him. Had that blow caught him in the throat as intended, Murdock would have been out of the fight before it had half started.
Ross was prepared for a stiff battle. He had learned in that first encounter years before that these aliens were tough and strong despite their thin, seemingly frail bodies.
The Baldy had already half drawn his laser and was now trying to bring it to bear. Murdock's hand clamped over the other's, twisting desperately in his effort to keep the business end turned away from him.
A crackling hiss and streak of vicious light and heat drove Ross back, forcing him to release his hold. He braced himself for the death that now seemed inevitable, but his opponent had fallen as well and lay still. The agent saw why. Half the face had been burned away and all that part of the skull and brain above it.
Murdock wasted no time. He whirled in response to the sounds of a second struggle.
Gordon Ashe and the remaining Baldy were locked in one another's grasp, each striving to secure a solid grip on the other's throat.
The spacer was not ignorant of the ways of unarmed combat and had the wiry strength of his kind, but he customarily fought with mind and weapons that killed from a distance. The Terran had trained long and hard in the various methods of close combat for his previous missions and for this one. That experience was giving him an edge now.
It ended abruptly. Ashe gained the hold he sought. There was a strange, sharp crack, and the Baldy's large-domed head lolled to one side with a grotesque freedom that proclaimed the spinal column was broken.
The archeologist remained where he was, breathing heavily. Murdock reached him in a moment. "Gordon?" he asked anxiously.
The other looked up. "I'm all right." He came to his feet, then turned to seek their companions.
Eveleen Riordan had emerged from the cover surrounding the clearing, bringing their ashen-faced prisoner with her. She herself was starkly white, her face a strained mask, but she knelt at once beside the nearest of the aliens, then straightened and moved to the next.
She stiffened. "Rossin! Gordon! This one's alive!"
Both men hurried over to her. She glanced up at them. "I don't think he'll hold on much longer."
Ashe nodded grimly. The arrow, Gordon's own, which had felled the spacer, protruded from his chest. It had been well placed and had penetrated deeply. Blood, or the Baldy's equivalent, bubbled on his lips. It was red, logical enough in an oxygen-breathing being, the archeologist supposed, but something more exotic would have seemed more appropriate, a green or black fluid, or perhaps a colorless ichor.
While he was noting these details and his patient's labored breathing, he worked to free the unfamiliar fastenings holding the tunic closed prior to attempting to cut away the incredibly tough material.
The Baldy's eyes opened. They focused for a moment. There was no anger in them or in the weak emotion field the dying starman broadcast, no fear or hate or bitterness, just contempt, one vast sea of it. The eyes dulled then, and the last ragged effort to breathe shuddered to a stop.
29
ROSS'S FINGERS CLOSED gently on Eveleen's arm. "Thanks." She only nodded numbly, and his grip tightened. "Did they hurt you?"
The woman took hold of herself. "No, not permanently, just while it was going on."
"What happened? What did you do?"
"I don't know, not to be able to explain it." She paused, then went on, choosing her words carefully. "I knew what those bastards were trying to do, of course, and I was terrified. Then suddenly, I got red, flaming mad and just fought back. When I realized I had not only eased the pressure on us but was actually getting to them, I kept it up. They drove me back fast, but I'd held out long enough to buy you and Gordon time to jump back into the war."
That they had won was still a near miracle, Murdock thought. Eveleen had given them their opening, but luck had been with them, or, rather, a weakness of the Baldies themselves had been, a weakness his kind might be able to exploit again. The spacers apparently drew upon their mental abilities as their weapons of choice. Had they gone for their lasers first, the story would probably have had a different end. Of a certainty, all four humans would not be in one piece at this point. The noble barbarian generally did not fare well when trying to set his sword and bow against the arms of a vastly technologically superior foe.
Ross bent over the spacer's body and unfastened the loaded utility belt, which he carefully worked free of the body. "The brain boys will love to get their hooks on this stuff."
Ross tried to put it around his own waist, but slender as he was, it would not close on him. Giving up, he clasped it about his wife.
Tarlroc watched them. He had not spoken before, but now he touched the dead Baldy with the toe of his boot. "So demons are flesh and blood after all."
His eyes fixed the Terrans. "You are demons yourselves. You beat them with their own weapon." The Dominionite shuddered. "I know now that they had never truly tried with me before…"
"We're humans who fought to remain human," Ross responded quickly to cut off that potentially dangerous line of thought.
"Rossin, come over here, will you?"
Ross glanced in the direction of the archeologist. His voice dropped. "Eveleen, keep an eye on this pup while I find out what Gordon wants. I trust him about as far as a three-year-old could toss him." All I Zanthor had to do was slip away, drive off their deer, and head back to his own people to raise a hunt against them while they were trapped on foot and without supplies or support deep in Condor Hall territory.
"Will do," she responded. "I'm not inclined to turn my back on him, either."
Gordon Ashe was crouched beside the nearer of the two fallen pillars. "Take a look at this," he told the younger man.
Murdock whistled softly. A lot of repair and replacement work still remained to be done, but enough had been completed for him to identify what he was seeing. "The makings of an old Model IB time grid!"
His partner nodded. "They must've copied it straight from that installation they wrecked. No wonder they ran into trouble. That was set specifically for Terran conditions with each level leading directly to the next in our own history. It's almost incredible that they managed to bring as much through as they did before the whole thing blew up on them."
"That explains why they failed to act when things started to go badly for Zanthor. They didn't have the gear to take on a more active role, and he wouldn't give them the materials they needed to reestablish contact with their own time."
"That's the way I figure
it."
"Why didn't their people come for them?"
"They still might, or maybe this was some sort of do-or-die experiment. I'd guess the latter since they were left to their own devices for so long."
"They never seemed to take an interest in time travel," Ross ventured, "otherwise they'd have done it long before we got into the act and probably made sure that we wouldn't."
"Let's hope that doesn't change…"
"Down!"
Murdock dove behind the pillar, dragging his partner with him, as a fury of blue light ripped through the space the two Terrans had occupied a moment before.
The partisan leader swore. The fifth Baldy! Like a damn fool, he had forgotten him, and now they would all pay for his failure. This one seemed to recognize his associates' error. He had come in with his laser, and the humans were no more than fixed targets in this open place. The spacer was not even bothering to conceal himself. He knew he would fry them all before they could so much as raise their bows.
Suddenly, Tarlroc I Zanthor sprang. The laser discharged, caught him squarely in the trunk, but momentum carried him forward. The Dominionite struck the blue-clad figure, his hands closing over the starman's throat even as he bore him to the ground.
The weapon fired again, striking at point-blank range. I Zanthor's body jerked and stiffened, but his fingers only tightened under the lash of the shock.
It was over by the time the Terrans reached the pair. Even then, Tarlroc's hands retained their hold. Ross turned him clumsily despite that, endeavoring to be as gentle as possible.
The Dominionite's eyes flickered open. Murdock felt sick. There seemed to be nothing left of him, and he was still alive…
"The demon?" I Zanthor's lips formed the words. No sound came.
"Dead. You got him."
A grotesque shadow of a smile. "I avenged…"
He was gone. The Time Agent wrenched himself to his feet and quickly crossed the clearing to distance himself from his comrades.
They left him be for a few moments, then Ashe joined him. "Ross?"
"A brave devil in the end."
"Yes."
Murdock turned to look at the most recent scene of carnage on the battlefield. His mouth twisted. "He was me," he said tightly. "If the Project hadn't grabbed me, or if I'd made a few wrong decisions at the start…"
Gordon looked closely at him. He took a deep breath. "Don't flatter yourself, my friend. You were a real little punk, right enough, and far too smart for your own good, but as a budding villain, you were never even in the same universe as I Zanthor. He lacked the experience and maybe the talent to put his potential into action, but otherwise he was of one cut with his father. You're capable of hate, but not indifference, nor, I think, of cruelty."
The younger man gripped himself. The Baldies were finished, for this round at any rate, but he and his companions were still three partisans alone in enemy country. "Are we about done here?"
"I'd like to check out these domes. After that, we'll have to grab whatever we can carry and torch the rest." The archeologist sighed. "A lot of folks back on the Project are going to be very disappointed, but we can't risk leaving anything that might be of use either to our star-roving acquaintances or to Condor Hall."
30
THE WAR DID not end immediately, but Condor Hall's fall was assured by the slaying of its Ton. Neither of Zanthor I Yoroc's remaining sons nor any of the mercenary commanders he had hired had the force of personality necessary to bind the rest to him, and none was strong enough to seize control by force of arms, thus reducing the invading front to several small, distinct armies, each only uncertainly bound to the others.
They continued to stand together, for only thus could they hope, as they at first did, to salvage anything out of what would otherwise be a totally disastrous campaign, but the sense of disorganization in their leadership did nothing to reassure or inspire troops already worn and discouraged after a winter of great cold and lean supplies, and the hard-pressing Confederates gained steadily against them.
The partisans continued to ride and fight, albeit not so frequently now, for while the front was still situated beyond the Corridor, there would be enemy activity in the lowlands.
That need would soon be lifted from them. It was but a matter of time, a few weeks at most, before Condor Hall itself became the battlefield, bringing home at last some of the horror its legions had carried to so many of its erstwhile neighbors.
Eveleen perched herself on the end of Ross's desk. "Luroc reports that the Tons are hotly discussing the division of spoil," she said to draw him out, although he, of course, was better aware of that fact than was she.
"They'd do better to wait until it's won."
She smiled. That was the response she should have expected from him.
Her eyes darkened. "Do you believe they'll honor their promises to us?" she asked him abruptly. "We're numerically much weaker than the least of them."
"They'll give us our due. Ton I Carlroc and most of those with him aren't men to violate their word, given or implied, and we have firm oaths from them."
"Most, but not all," the woman observed. "According to you, I Loran doesn't trust some of them."
"Probably with excellent reason from what I've seen of them, but don't worry. They'll walk the line. They know that Jeran A Murdoc'll squash them otherwise, even if their compatriots don't. Mercenaries take a very dim view of having any of their own kind cheated out of rightly won spoil since that would be a rather bad precedent to have established. Luroc's made it clear more than once that I'm to come into a good part of anything Sapphirehold gains."
The woman sighed in relief. "I'm glad to hear that. I was afraid we'd have to face further danger at the hands of our present allies once Condor Hall at last yields."
"Don't you trust anyone, Eveleeni EA Riordan?" Ross asked in some amusement.
"Given Terra's history, no, I don't," she responded curtly.
Eveleen smiled softly, her former humor forgotten even as it had been vented. "Plans are already being made for rebuilding the village and then the keep. That'll be both strong and fair when it's complete, better than the old one was and lots more comfortable."
"A joy to behold, I'm sure," he responded sarcastically.
His voice had become rough, almost angry. She looked at him in surprise, but the man made no answer to her unspoken question. He came to his feet and strode away from the desk to stand staring out the window.
She went to him. "Ross, don't you want to see a normal lifeway resumed here?"
"Of course, I do. You know that."
"What's wrong, then?" she pleaded. "You've been shadowed so often these last weeks, when the rest of us are growing ever more hopeful."
He looked at her, through her. "A failure of nerve, Lieutenant," he responded at last. "Only that."
Suddenly, he whirled toward the door. "Ride with me!"
The woman followed him. The partisans always kept springdeer saddled and at ready, and she raced for the place where hers was tethered, whispering a prayer of gratitude that it was yet early enough in the day that Spark would be her mount. No other had a hope of keeping pace with Firehand's doe if he drove her hard. Murdock was waiting for her now at the edge of the camp, but she doubted he would continue to do so once she was actually mounted.
Ashe had seen his partner cast himself into the saddle and hurried toward him. That some deep trouble was on him would have been patent even to one knowing him far less well.
Eveleen stopped him with a firm shake of her head as she swung herself onto her buck's back. Ross would never speak if two of them were present. She was unsure of her own ability to win confidence from him, although he had asked her to come with him and she could already make a pretty good guess as to the whip lashing him. Ross Murdock had to decide, and decide soon, whether to cast his lot with this Dominion of the past where he had proven he could work and rise far or return to Terra and the Project. This was not Karara's case. Murdock ha
d not been altered. He had merely expanded, become aware of new potential, but the difficulty of the choice he faced was in no way lessened by that growth in self and knowledge.
Once he saw that his wife was mounted and prepared to follow him, Ross turned Lady Gay toward the trees and gave her the command for speed, as if flight could free him of that which was driving him, sunder his weakness from him.
The man did not draw rein or slacken pace until he came to that high place where he and Eveleen had stood together so many months before. He dismounted there and waited for her on the crest.
The world below and around him was wonderful with the gentle sunlight and soft, pale greens of a still young spring, but no trace of its joy touched him.
He heard the weapons expert's buck approach and halt near Lady Gay but did not turn to watch her.
He felt rather than saw her come up beside him.
Eveleen waited quietly for some seconds to give him an opportunity to collect himself, but he seemed unable to begin.
"Ross," she said softly in the end, "please let me try to help. I can't bear to see you torturing yourself like this."
He did not respond at first but finally shrugged. "As I told you before, I thought I had a proper spine. It appears I don't."
"Ross…"
He turned to her. "When we were here the last time, I asked you to stay with me."
"Yes. Now you don't want to remain?"
His eyes closed. "Heart, mind, and soul!" He pressed the fingers of his hands against the lids until the pressure became painful. "It's Sapphirehold that I want, Eveleen, and I can't have that. What I said to Allran was right. I am a mercenary, and soon there'll be nothing more for me to do here, no place for me."
Suddenly, the too-bright eyes fixed on her. "You knew it'd be like this, or Gordon did?"
Her head lowered. "If it was Sapphirehold itself and not Dominion in general that was drawing you, yes. We were hoping for the last, Ross. Both of us wanted you to be spared learning that part of a mercenary's existence, at least for a while."