Firehand # with Pauline M. Griffin Page 3

  "That horizontal range seems to sever the two sections, the north and the south," Ross observed.

  "Actually, the individual components of it are part of separate vertical ranges, but the effect is the same. For a preflight people, they form a nearly impenetrable barrier. Individual walkers or riders can get through in a few places, but only at this one pass here can vehicles cross at all or people in large numbers with any kind of speed, and that's closed for several months during the height of the winter."

  "What about this war?"

  "It's the same old story," she said with a disgust she did not bother to conceal. "It was a nice, balanced, feudal society until the ruler of one of the domains into which the island was divided got greedy. Condor Hall was the largest and best domain in the north, but its Ton, Zanthor I Yoroc, wanted more. Early one spring, without any warning whatsoever, he struck one after the other of his neighbors, swallowing them up before they could raise any defense at all.

  "Only one landowner, Luroc I Loran of Sapphirehold, had time enough to give battle. This domain was the very southernmost, right on the barrier range. It was large, rich for the region, and well peopled, so he had a good army, or militia, at his disposal, but Zanthor had taken the probability that he would be prepared into consideration in his planning. Condor Hall possessed a fine coast and harbor, and the invader had made use of them to secretly import a vast horde of mercenaries from the Mainland. He sprung them on Luroc just as the two armies met. The slaughter of the defenders was complete, and backed by the supplies he seized at Sapphirehold, Zanthor rushed his forces through the pass to crush the forming confederation of the southern domains before it could raise an effective defense against him. In another two weeks, winter would have closed the Corridor, and he would have been blocked, but he had won the gamble. The island was his.

  "His empire only outlived him by a few years. None of his sons or the mercenary commanders he'd rewarded with land had the strength to keep his gains. They weakened themselves with plotting and battling until the local people were able to rise and throw the lot of them into the sea and restore the old order as best they could, but by then, the damage was done.

  "The mutation that was to give the Dominionites of the future their mental powers originated on the island. The seeds of it were already present at the time, but the enormous slaughter and the subsequent diluting of the remaining gene pool as a result of the decades-long presence of Mainland mercenaries put its development back by centuries."

  "Wouldn't all this have happened originally as well?" Ashe asked.

  "We don't know. We had no reason to delve into Dominion's ancient history apart from that one Baldy encounter. All we know is it's crucial to change the outcome of that war now."

  She looked from one to the other of them. "Dominion was a lovely, rich planet, and her people were a fine, talented race. We want to save them, especially if we were indirectly responsible for their eradication."

  "There's also the matter of their independent interstellar flight," Murdock interjected dryly.

  "Yes, there is," Eveleen responded coolly.

  "So we've got to delay this Zanthor's invasion of the south in some manner, buy the rulers down there the winter so they can organize sufficiently to meet his mercenaries?"

  "Precisely."

  "No chance of just blowing up the pass and keeping him penned, I suppose?"

  "None. We can't risk Terra."

  "Is the danger to us really so great?" Ross asked, frowning.

  "Apparently, it is, given the sketchy data we have."

  "That doesn't matter," Gordon interjected impatiently. "Great or small, no one's going to chance it."

  "No," the other man agreed. "I wouldn't, either."

  Murdock studied the map intently for several long moments. "What kind of weapons do they use? Old-time stuff, I imagine, since you're involved, Eveleen."

  "Old time," she agreed. "Swords, bows. The basics. There are some differences in design and style of use, of course, but you'll pick it all up fast." She gave him a wicked grin. "They ride oversized deer. You lads'll have real fun learning to manage those."

  "I'll bet," he responded but immediately returned to his perusal of the map. "Why a battle at all? Those fools of Sapphireholders have a partisan's paradise if those highlands are anything like our old wild country at home. Move everything of value and everyone into the hills where the invaders can't get at them and use hit and run guerrilla tactics against Zanthor. They mightn't be able to whip him, but they'd hold him the two weeks simply by removing or destroying the supplies he'd hoped to take, they'd stay intact themselves, and when the campaign opened up in the spring, they could rip the guts out of his efforts to keep his troops supplied. —He'll have to do that through the pass?"

  She nodded. "He will."

  "We'll have to start early. Homes'll have to be built and crops planted in the highlands. It's all got to be ready when the time comes so we can bum everything that's not portable and run…"

  The Time Agent stopped. He looked at Ashe in confusion. "Sorry. I shouldn't have…"

  "Go on," the other told him. "You appear to be doing just fine."

  Ross's eyes returned to the map, although they did not focus on it. "We'll need the full cooperation of everyone, especially the ruler's, the more particularly if we're going to work with the necessary speed and secrecy. I'm afraid we might have a problem with that since no one's come up with the idea already."

  "Warfare's a matter of open, old-fashioned slash and bash, not hiding in the hills," she affirmed. "I believe we'll be able to convince Luroc of his danger easily enough, but it'll take maneuvering and a lot of tact if you're going to manage the domain's defense the way you want. Even at that, you may have to make do with a very partial victory." Eveleen sighed. "That's why there's so much uncertainty about our ability to save Dominion."

  The man glanced up sharply. "I'll have to make do?"

  Ashe's eyes met the newcomer's, then flickered to his partner. "You'll be in charge of that phase of the mission," he told him. "You've already taken charge of it."

  "It fits with our cover," Eveleen agreed quickly, before Ross could protest. "You and I're to pose as mercenary officers escorting our learned companion here. Doctor Ashe is to bear the warning to Luroc. After that, it would only be logical for us to handle the planning and conducting of Sapphirehold's war, assuming we can convince him to follow our advice."

  "You?" Murdock asked sharply. "Will that be acceptable, Eveleen?" He braced himself, although it had hardly been an unreasonable question.

  The woman's nod told her acknowledgment of that fact. "Yes, indeed," she responded cheerfully. "Dominion isn't Terra. The Great Mother was never supplanted there—her people worshiped a nice, highly sophisticated version of Her right until the moment their civilization vanished—and women retained a position of respect throughout her history. True, there were no female Tons at the time we're discussing, but, then, there were no male priests, either. Just about every other profession was open to both genders, including that of mercenary. I'll be regarded as somewhat unusual since not many of my sex did take up that work but certainly not a freak, and my presence in that capacity won't cause any offense."

  The brown eyes held his. "It's important for me to take that role, Ross, and to involve the domain's women as heavily as possible in what's to come. The mutation rose first in the females, and it's only through them that their race's mental abilities can be used for any purpose save straight one-to-one communication. The men will have to be able to channel their power through the women to bring down the Baldies, and there'll have to be complete trust and acceptance between the two sexes to accomplish that. It's as important for us to do what we can to foster an early flowering of that as it is to help thwart Zanthor I Yoroc's aim."

  "My role?" Gordon asked.

  "That of a wealthy, very learned physician from the central Mainland who initially journeyed north to study manuscripts kept in the region's temples i
n order to compare their contents with those in his own area. Three mercenaries, especially soldiers of rank, on the loose on that island would be highly suspect at the time when we plan to arrive. However, two of us could reasonably be traveling as escorts to a distinguished individual… You have to be a doctor," she added, forestalling any question on that point. "Outside of the Tons or top mercenary leaders, medicine's the only profession open to a man that would give you the necessary prestige to gain the audiences you need.

  "The story is that we two fighters noted the presence of a lot of our own kind in the port town where you were studying and remarked upon the fact considering the total absence of fighting in the area to account for their being there at all, much less in number. By dint of careful digging by all three of us, you copped onto Zanthor's plot and hastened to spread the alarm. That you would drop your own research to do so will be believed. Dominionite healers of that era were totally dedicated to their oath to preserve life, though they never hesitated to fight when they believed that to be necessary. Reinforcing that is the fact that Zanthor's treachery completely went against the custom of the times, which is how he was able to take everyone so completely by surprise. No one believed it could happen until it did. Anyone at all, but especially a man sworn to the defense of life, would be totally repelled and would be eager to do whatever he could to foil I Yoroc's empire building."

  "I'll buy all that, Miss Riordan, but I'm still an archeologist, not an MD. The mission will be a fairly long-term one by the sound of it, and if I'm called upon to act professionally…"

  "Given your detailed first aid training and better than basic grasp of the medical knowledge of our own time, you're a small infinity better prepared than any of your supposed Dominionite colleagues. They're all functioning at the medieval level, don't forget. Just to be sure, though, you'll be given a crash PA course before you go in."

  "It takes two to three years of intensive study to qualify as a physician's assistant!"

  "You won't need everything, and you already have a good bit of what you do require," the woman assured him. "You'll also be bringing a nice supply of real Terran medications in your luggage, all artfully disguised… Never fear. You'll manage quite well if you ever do have to go into practice, Doctor."

  "Wouldn't it be a whole lot simpler just to bill me as a foreign Ton on the loose from his lands for some reason?"

  She shook her head. "Unfortunately not. They simply don't go far from their domains. Any cover we could concoct for you would have to be melodramatic to the point that it wouldn't sit right. Besides, a Ton with no particular interest in the island would be considerably less likely than a healer to take on a voyage and a long trek cross-country just to carry warning against Zanthor."

  "A doctor might also reasonably have an eye to a nice reward at the end of it all?" Ross suggested.

  "Some generous patronage wouldn't be unwelcome, naturally."

  Gordon nodded, accepting the inevitable. "What precisely are these Tons?" he asked. "Lords? Petty kings? It could make a difference in the way we'll have to approach and handle them."

  "Neither. The word has no equivalent in any Terran language I know. It translates as something like landlord, or as noble and exalted landlord, rather, but there's a strong measure of clan chieftain in it plus a good bit of chairman of the board and company president thrown in.

  "The setup's different than it used to be with us. The domains are owned by the Tons, but they're operated by the whole populace for the direct benefit of each family as well as for the whole. The Tons rake off the major share of the profits, but everyone working to earn it gets to stick a hand into the pot."

  Eveleen smiled. "You'll be learning all that shortly. We all start training as soon as we get back."

  Ross winced inwardly. He had gone through the Project's deep penetration schooling once before, when he and Gordon Ashe had assumed the roles of traders in Terra's Bronze Age. That was just long enough ago for a thin mist of nostalgia to have begun spreading a soft veil over the experience, but he had a very nasty feeling that the warm glow of memory was about to vanish in grinding exhaustion as reality once more raised its ugly head with a vengeance. It had been bad enough learning how to play the part of a Beaker trader in his own world's past. Now he would not only have to fight, but to lead a guerrilla war, and he would have to hold the pose of a native son of Dominion of Virgin while he did it.

  He silently laughed at himself. He had been aching to get back to his proper work, had he not? Now he had it once more, and there was nothing for it but to grit his teeth and go with it.

  The Terran men stood beside the waiting gate. Soon now, they would leave this ancient Hawaika for its modern counterpart and the weeks of study and labor awaiting them there.

  When they were ready, or as ready as it was possible to be, their true work would begin. They would take ship for the cinder that was Dominion of Virgin, enter a time gate there, and go back to the age in which that planet's fate was to be decided. A sub would bring them from the uninhabited island that was the terminus of their gate to the threatened isle, though a chopper would probably retrieve them at the conclusion of their mission, assuming any of them survived to require its services. They would all be exposed to the same degree of peril as any of the locals while they remained among them.

  For now, though, the business of parting held them. They had bade farewell to the dolphins and to their comrades among the Rovers. Only the Foanna remained, and Karara, who was still closeted with Eveleen Riordan, discussing the history she was fated to write.

  Ross had quickly taken his leave of the strange trio and had withdrawn again before his open pleasure in quitting this place and time should become apparent beyond the point of courtesy.

  Ashe stayed with the on-worlders. His own feelings were somewhat mixed, and however glad he was to be resuming his proper life and place, his heart was heavy. Whatever he and his comrades had done for Hawaika herself, they had been unable to help the Foanna. When these three now with him died, their race would be extinct. There was no hope of averting that doom now, and no hope, either, for the vision that had flickered momentarily before him.

  The shame and defeat of his failure filled him, and his head lowered. "I'm sorry," he said at last. "I wish we two, or even one of us, had proven acceptable to the Powers ruling your kind." Only Karara of all the Terrans had been taken, and she was another female…

  "It was not to be, Gordoon," Ynvalda responded. "That we must all accept. Doubtless, it is for the best. Our world is death, soul death, for the Younger Brother and would probably have proven so for you as well. A change in form and ability would not alter that, I think. Ye were made, mind and spirit, for other work and other lives."

  "Perhaps, but we found true friends here, and there was much we might have learned and accomplished."

  "Friendship is not forgotten. As for the rest, it may be that ye shall win, both of ye, what ye desire in other ways and other places. The stars are open to your seeking and the plains of time."

  Her head turned slightly. "The Sisters return."

  The two women entered the room even as she spoke. Eveleen, small and fair, was the brighter in his eyes despite the shimmering aura that seemed to sparkle around and within her companion.

  Whatever had passed between them in their long conference, both were silent now, thoughtful, as they approached the place and moment of parting.

  Trehern looked from one to the other of those who had been her comrades. They were the last link with her old species, with the world that had borne her and the life to which she once had given herself…

  Her chin lifted and a smile that answered to the force of her will flickered on her lips. She glanced once more at the newcomer. "Eveleen, you've told me what needs to be recorded but not whether I managed to produce a good book out of it all."

  "A runaway best-seller!" the other assured her. "Planetary when it came to us and now interstellar, history and legend in one delightful packag
e."

  Karara laughed and tossed her head. "Now I'm not afraid to begin! I've always detested those dreary tomes one is compelled to read in school practically at pistol point. I'd have hated to think I was the creator of yet another of them."

  "No fear of it. This classic's read with pleasure."

  The time was come. Gordon's heart twisted. Ross had been right in saying the dark-haired woman no longer had a life anywhere else. Even now, in this moment of eternal parting, there was a barrier between her and both Murdock and Riordan. The fact that she had been human, Terran, and was so no longer stood between them.

  Mistress of power she might become, but Karara Trehern was also a woman, a girl, and soon now, she was to be severed utterly from her own time, her own world, her own species. It was not difficult to imagine and to empathize with the grief and fear that must be burning behind that brave mask.

  "Karara," he whispered.

  She came to him, and he folded her in his arms. Ashe kissed her tenderly on the forehead. "Learn well, Karara, but be happy, too."

  Ross gripped himself. Was he human at all or even marginally deserving of the title, he who pretended to set such store by it?

  He took his comrade in his arms as well as soon as his partner released her. His mouth met hers in a kiss that was strong and earthy. He wanted her to know that, whatever she had become, warmth, the right to give it and the power to receive it, remained to her.

  She responded with passion, for she recognized that this part of life, too, was closing to her forever. It was good to be held thus this one final time.

  At last, Karara drew back, smiling, although tears glistened in her eyes. She took her place beside those who were now her sisters while the three who were to go stepped into the gate, shimmered, and were gone from her sight and time.