Mark of the Cat and Year of the Rat Page 51

  It was no whine he uttered now, but the blast of a great war cry. And it was a challenge that was answered. Blue light burst and then was gone. He slid, belly down, across hard stone, fighting to stop, to gain his feet. Instead he struck a surface before him with force enough to drive the air from his lungs and leave him, gasping as he lay, wincing from the shooting pain awakened in his wound.

  He was—slowly he fought to remember. The water—water under the ground—His brother—Murri sent out a questing thought. Answer very faint—but definitely an answer, which acted on him like a deep drink of restoring water.

  Now—yes, sight had returned to him also. He was plainly in a stone walled room. Where were those who had been with him when he had leaped through the arch of light? He tested the air—there were many scents—he snarled—rat—and other things, human, too. Again he sent forth a seeking thought call.

  The answer came very faint—only a hint that someone sharing this talent was not too far away. His night sight came into full service now and there was a door immediately before him. Getting to his feet, the great cat limped toward that opening.

  CHAPTER 27

  Within the Ancient Palace:

  Ravinga stood, feet planted as solidly as one among the deep carvings on the wall. He who held her prisoner lolled back in a well-cushioned chair, his lips curved in an evil shadow of a smile.

  “If I gave you a voice now,” he observed, “you would not use it. It has been a long time, has it not, Daughter of Light? If I know you, and I do not doubt that I do, you have been seeking knowledge in many places. Perhaps I can call forth some of that knowledge, for I also have used my time well, and have learned much. You have sought in the earth, the air, the rocks; I have followed another path, a stronger one.”

  The statue stood, voiceless, lids near closed over eyes, which might just betray alertness.

  From out of the dusty, chilled air came a sharp sound. Quinzell was on his feet instantly. Then he was gone, a section of wall peeling to let him pass in such haste that the chair from which he had hurled himself was still a-quiver, cushions sliding to the floor.

  The doll maker waited, counting in her mind. When she had reached a certain number, she loosed thought to seek thought. Her enemy had not gone far. He stood before a mass of metal wrought by pattern, the purpose of which hung about it as a thin black cloud. He was summoning—There was an indrawing of energy. Suddenly the bonds which held her loosened.

  However she was not tricked into summoning her own power. That also could be sucked away, woven into whatever force he was raising. The very walls about were misting.

  Old things were coming to his call. Some she knew for what they were—but those were all lesser ones, ones she might be able to face without any doubts of her own. A steady whine filled the ears now.

  For the first time Ravinga moved. She was well aware that there was a guard without the door giving onto the hall. To face such down would seriously deplete her talents. She was determined to be gone before Quinzell returned.

  The Kottis were gone but she wasted no time trying to contact them. Slowly the doll maker pivoted, not leaving the place where she had been held.

  There was still a small force holding her. Once more she dared a seeking thought. Yes—Quinzell had disappeared through that hall. The fringes of what he fed for control would sweep in any unprotected human energy. Would it also act upon the rats? All life within reach might be drawn for such service, though she was sure he could not so take her with her defenses up.

  Now she reached a window wide enough to be a door. It was dusk outside—there was no way of telling how much time had passed. A sudden thought—when had she eaten last? She could not remember—and yet she had no hunger. Was that also part of his control? Ravinga took a long stride and a stir of air managed to reach her past the stream of force.

  Against the dusk she sighted lines of greenish yellow proceeding from a window not too distant, feeding into some aperture to her left. There was another window facing her but no light awoke there, only emptiness. A story below, a roof stretched over to unite with that facing wall. Ravinga pulled her cloak tightly around her, extending her arms through the sleeve slits. For a moment she stood looking down, measuring the drop. Then she settled on the sill, letting her legs and feet dangle into space.

  She slipped over, her hands still anchored on the sill. Then she dropped. Anyone who traveled the Outer Regions knew that intention mated to effort might serve one well. She held that thought as she launched to the roof below, the cloak in part protecting her from the heavy jar of landing.

  Above her the lengths of light disappeared. Ravinga crossed the roof to the far side as swiftly as she could. Panting, she spied a tangle of carvings protruding from the other wall. Without releasing the folds of her cloak she started to climb. The pressure of the force was gone.

  Hynkkel-ji:

  The greenish mist that had provided us with light was no longer around me. My eyes were blurred by the bright glare of the gate through which I had passed. Then that was gone and a body slammed against mine as I tried to regain my feet.

  I rolled and gasped as a knee thudded home in the middle of my back and I heard exclamations and a scraping like metal against stone. The stench of rat was very strong—and to think of having to do battle in the dark was a proving ground for fear.

  When I called out those others hidden from me answered back. By the Favor of the Essence we had all made our way through the gate to—to where? Doubtless some fortress of the enemy.

  “August One, there is a way ahead.” Jaclan! My hand was touched, fingers curled about my wrist to draw me slightly forward.

  “Murri!” I thought called. There came no answer! Was it that the furred one had not joined our escape? Yet I was sure that the last sight I had had of him was in leaping through the gate ahead.

  In the end I ordered a clasping of hands making us into a line. The clasps I held were both steady. My shoulder scraped along a stone wall. We were traveling totally blind and must use caution. I passed a second order, taken up by Ortaga and relayed in a voice hardly above a whisper. From now on we must make noses and ears serve us. Nose already warned of rat. But hearing supplied no warning as yet. We continued, having rounded a turn to the right, to scrape one shoulder against stone. We were either in a hall or a very large chamber. Jaclan stopped so quickly that I half fell against him.

  “August One, I must let go my hold—there is nothing ahead that I can feel. I will search.”

  My fingers did not let go as his did. “Leader; toss some object ahead to see if there lies a pit before us.”

  I freed him then and stood waiting, hoping that Fortune still favored us. There came a ring of metal against stone. Then I sensed movement.

  “There are steps, August One, leading upward.”

  “Very well. Carry on.”

  So we climbed, always in the dark, which was as thick about us as those hides we used for storm shelter. If only there were a weapon against this blackness, a small torch to carry in the hand, one that would not burn away. But such was not possible.

  Light shown at last, a pale glimmer above. It spurred us to hasten our steps. At this moment our ears reported. I froze in place so that Ortaga pushed against me. Such a cry! Torment, despair, total abandonment of hope. It wracked us once, and then again.

  One of the women we sought?

  We reached the top of the stair and, for the first time since we had passed through the gate, were able to see distinctly. The light issued through a slit in the wall to our right. I lunged forward to see what lay on the far side.

  The space, which was much lower than my lookout, was filled with objects of metal, large and small, save for one place where there was a clearing. Three constructions walled about it, but did not quite block my view.

  Two low tables were ranged close to one another. One cradled a rat, much larger than most of its foul breed. On the other a man was strapped securely. One could see by the writhing
of his body he was still alive. But his head was completely covered by a metal bowl.

  The captive’s body jerked. Again that scream echoed. He was plainly in agony. I remembered the tale of the man-rats. Was he somehow being altered to satisfy the monster ruler here? We had surely reached our goal.

  To watch such torment without trying to end it—The thought of Allitta, or Ravinga undergoing such handling awoke my full rage.

  Wheeling from my spy hole, I stared back at the company wedged into the space at the top of the stairs. Where we stood was not a hall—rather a long landing—darker the farther it lay from the steps. However one could catch a glimpse of a hardly visible second stairway. I gestured to that and ordered: “Up!”

  Search in the Hall of the Past:

  Murri halted. The rat stench now mingled with a strange scent. Time to take care. He attempted a final mind touch. And—The she his brother had chosen!

  There was no more time to hold that touch as a guide. He could hear very well now, growing ever louder, the click of claws against stone—many claws.

  Some sounded from behind, others ahead. Was he caught between two parties of the desert vermin? Murri made his choice and started toward the unknown. There was a wall ahead and a sharp angle to the left where the way made a sharp turn. Rat stench—strong.

  Around the corner. There the she was, cowering back against the wall, before her the rats, a large company of them. They had not yet launched an attack, merely gathered in an ever thickening arc, as more of their kind arrived continuously. A wisp of luminescence hovered over them so they could be plainly seen.

  Now they appeared so engrossed in whatever they proposed to do—or were doing—that they had no attention for Murri, even as their fellows had been blind to the squad by the river.

  Murri launched himself in a powerful leap. As he landed to flatten a number of foul creatures under his weight, he swept out both forepaws, smashing bodies, tearing with fully extended claws. He uttered no battle cries. The shrilling of the enemy echo eerily, but the Sand Cat fought in silence. He must not bring any others hurrying to this battle.

  He had cleared a way, bringing him to half crouch beside Allitta, facing the squealing rats. They closed the space he had opened, more and more surging in.

  Still, they did not attack, though they kicked away torn bodies. What held them back? There were so many of them now. Were they all to attack at once—this was not the open land with with room to dodge, to summon others of his own clan.

  “Brother in fur!” Allitta’s thought reached him. “They call in the monsters—”

  He had not picked up any summons, but he had never heard of one able to catch a whisper of rat communication. Monsters—man-rats! He remembered the strange weapon in the hands of such. His shoulder still ached from that wound.

  A whistle sounded, sharp and clear. The rat pack backed away a little as those they had silently summoned from the end of the hall approached, slipping from the gloom into full sight.

  Man-rats—four of the creatures. Two held the tube weapons. The others were armed with sword and spear.

  Allitta:

  Alone in this evil hold, I fought fear with every breath. At least the stiffness had left my body, now freed from the restraint the enemy commanded. Then came a seeking touch to revive me, even as a storm survivor might be revived by water.

  Thought communications differ, even as the tone of speech, from one person to another. It was not Hynkkel who had sought me so, rather Murri. But where Murri was Hynkkel could not be far behind. I was revived enough to leave the small room in which I had taken shelter and press on into the darkness of the corridor. Twice I paused and tried mind touch but even I was able to sense something here preventing me. I could only go on, energized by hope.

  I shook my head and coughed. Rats—and they must be close by—ahead or behind? I did not have a weapon, even a short sleeve knife; they would be able to pull me down with ease. I feared to go any farther, nor would my fear allow me to retreat. I backed against the nearest wall.

  Once more the amulet grew warmer against my breast. What had seemed to die when the man-rat had tried to take it was coming to life. Having nothing else I closed my hand as tightly around it as I might clasp a spear. Slowly fear-born tension began to relax.

  They came in a dark wave, rats, yes, but not yet the Evil-spawned monsters. However they did not instantly hurl themselves at me, following their usual pattern of attack. Instead they halted some paces away, forming a curving barrier to my escape. Instinctively I knew they waited—awaited the others.

  I had not long to shiver. Out of nowhere Murri hurtled with all the speed of his kind. Rat bodies streaming blood flew through the air. He trod on more, breaking bones with his weight, while his fearsome paws dealt death. But I must warn him, and with all my might I both spoke and thought my message.

  He instantly faced the passage in the direction I had been heading. From where he had emerged, more rats flowed to gather strangely quiet around us. In my grasp the warmth of the amulet continued to grow.

  Man-rats now. One of them stepped forward, his companions allowing him to advance alone. To my horror I believed I could read the purpose in his red eyes.

  In his revolting body there must also lie the same appetites common to men—which I would never welcome, even though I held that which would and did mimic the answer my body was designed to give. The rats drew back on either hand to allow his approach.

  I was aware also of the blood born rage that seethed in Murri. This enemy held a strange weapon, with powers we could not guess. My hand held a blazing coal of fire. I did not break silence, rather something within me swelled. Nor was I conscious that my hand moved.

  The amulet slipped from my hold but my fingers still grasped its chain. I acted as if another will had taken control. My enemy had gone into a half crouch. Murri would have moved between us but that power, which I only half sensed (from what unknown source) now sent the blazing crystal aswing.

  Time froze about me. When I moved, something held those others, even Murri, motionless. A hazing of flame arose from the pendant. It was now akin to a weapon I had used on the caravan trails, with well-remembered skill. Out flew a bail of fire. The chain wrapped about the rod.

  Fire! Not from the rod—that had shattered. First it engulfed the hand that held the weapon, then became a tower encasing the man-rat. In my mind flamed an agony of pain. I had dropped my left hand on Murri’s back. With all the strength of his body he pushed me away from the blaze. All the while there was utter silence.

  The fire leaped upward, its living core no longer visible. A burst of scarlet shifted. Sparks scattered. The cloak of another monster guard, he who held the other rod, caught fire. Behind that double pyre the remaining two broke and ran, and with them the rats. Fire reached farther to lick up the laggards.

  Heat was threatening us also. Murri pressed against me again, urging me along the wall. There was no opening here into which we might retreat as the fire continued. I choked and gagged as noisome smoke thickened the air.

  With a last crackling leap the flames were no longer so solid. Only blackened lumps remained, which had been rats and guards. There was still a shining spot amid the carnage—my jewel, holding not the flames it had generated, but rather lay glittering white, as might a diamond from Yuikala’s state crown.

  I avoided as best I could the bodies, but I knew that the strange jewel was bonded to me and I could not leave it. There was still heat in it, but not the living flames the amulet had awakened. As I bent to retrieve it, I saw the second rod, which the other man-rat had carried. This too I gathered up. In contrast to the amulet it was cold, so cold that I nearly dropped it. Murri bent his great head and sniffed it. His thought came.

  “It still lives—but not for those who carry such. We must learn its power.”

  I rammed it deeply into an inner pocket of my cloak. When I gathered up my jewel I once more slipped the chain over my head and tucked what it supported
into hiding again.

  CHAPTER 28

  Hynkkel-ji:

  We had no way of learning the extent of the forces against us. Murri might have been able to report on this. But Murri—I could only continue to hope that he had made it through that gate into the same pile of ancient masonry as enclosed us now. That the force of power to project those who dared it might have a different effect on men and on Sand Cats, was something pricking me.

  It was not the desert lord who joined us—rather a small body near the same color as the massive walls leaped at me from a low opening, which might have been drilled for the use of rats. Then I stood as Kassca reared on hind legs to clutch at my leggings.

  I stooped and caught her up and she hammered her head against my chin.

  Murri I could thought touch. Would that talent answer me now with this much smaller representative of the feline race?

  “Allitta?” three times I repeated that, hoping that I was making a true touch.

  The picture that came in answer was unsteady—far from clear. One wearing a journey cloak such as all women who traveled the caravan trail favored—yes. Surely it was yes! There came into view beside her what could only be a man-rat. A long nailed hand grasped her arm, which had been jerked through one of her slit sleeves.

  Only for a breath did this mind picture hold. Then it was gone, our bond of communication cut. Perhaps my hold on that small body had tightened too much; small teeth closed warningly on my finger, as I was left to a fear which wrenched me. That had been a male locked onto the table, certainly not Allitta. Yet the body was that of one of my own kind. We must do all we could to find her before she would take her place in that torture chamber.

  I raised Kassca until her green eyes, widened to their greatest extent, were on a level with mine. Though Murri was missing, it might be that a Kotti could still be a guide, able to pick up traces of one who had shared a closer bond than any I had known before. At that moment I realized that Allitta aroused in me a feeling, which was strange and disturbing.