The Blood-Rage (42) Darkcian whirled to looked backwards. There stood Sulamith, a bloody dagger in hand, her blue eyes hard. He realized at once that she must have climbed the hill in back of them while everyone's attention was riveted on the council leader. Even with death pending, her unearthly beauty again stunned him. Somewhere an emotional dam burst within his heart, and he got dizzy with the joy that suddenly flashed through his surprised mind. She's alive; she's alive! Almost at once that thought collapsed. She was here, here where there was no escape. Ah, Sulamith. No, no. "You vile old crone," the Wist demon said, her gaze locked on Shara. "To you the ordering of death is a re-affirmation of your power over the ignorant ones of this planet. If you had died long ago, it would probably have saved hundreds of innocent warriors." Sulamith continued her climb again, stopping when she came even with Darkcian. Then, faster than Darkcian could blink his eyes, Sulamith threw her dagger into the throat of the councilwoman. The old one's head snapped back, and she stumbled backwards a step, while reaching up to grab the handle of the dagger that was protruding from her throat. Her face never changed expression as she fought to regain her balance. She opened her mouth to speak, and bright-red blood gushed out. She then looked puzzled, shook her head, and dropped dead at their feet. Sulamith yanked savagely on the lanyard, and the dagger snapped back into her hand. CHAPTER 43 If you see a danger to yourself, eliminate it. For to let a threat exist unchallenged only invites an early death from the combined effects of many such oversights. But one doesn't necessarily have to kill to eliminate. -From the Thoughts of Night Mist- "Why didn't you flee this place?" Darkcian said into the hushed silence that hung over the hill. "You could have saved yourself but now . . ." He couldn't get the rest out. Sulamith looked out over the silent horde; they were still stunned by the swift events. She said softly, "I couldn't have remained sane knowing I could have had the honor of dying by the side of my father and you . . . and didn't." She chanced a quick glance at him. "Could you, if the roles had been reversed?" "No," was his simple answer as he thought: She thinks like an Agonian and loves like a Wist. Suddenly the horde, awakened as if of one mind, surged forward, shouting their rage. Darkcian stepped forward also and cut down the nearest warrior. And then the battle was on. Those in the front ranks of the horde were mostly males, and they died by the tens as the long reach of Sulamith's and Patra's daggers leaped out to spear into their eyes and throats. Darkcian and Gravestone covered their daggers' flanks as they slowly, as a group, backed down the hill, heading towards the plateau's edge. As if by battle-instinct alone, they seemed to know that the cliff's sharp drop-off of a half-a-mile would protect their rear. Suddenly a dark shadow sped across the hill, and a warrior in front of Sulamith screamed as he dropped his sword and grasped at his eyes; they had been torn out. Careful winged friend, Darkcian thought-spoke to the glide-bird as it swooped up in a wide turn, its talons red with blood. Only attack from behind. Snap their necks. Understand, came back the thought-concept. The Kalts and Sulamith backed down further; they were almost at the cliff's edge now. To Darkcian's dismay, the sea of warriors in front of them were starting to get organized by the shouts of leaders who could see the terrible toll that he and his companions' swords and daggers were causing. Females were pushed to the front of the horde's ranks, and then Sulamith and Patra started to take wounds. Darkcian ignored the knives of this new group and leaped forward to cut the females down like wheat--the strength and speed of his sudden charge caught them by surprise. Still their numbers were too large, and he eventually backed away, cut in a dozen places. The dark shadow appeared again, and again another of the horde fell. Above the din of battle Darkcian heard the snap of that warrior's neck. He backed up another step, and his foot swung out into empty space. He jumped forward, away from the cliff and swung his sword in a wide arc. Three men died in its awful path. Suddenly he felt a change in the mental ether, a vibration of anger and chaos. He chanced a quick glance at Sulamith. She had a strange look on her blood-smeared face. She reached out her left hand, squeezed that hand closed, and twisted it. A female warrior in front of the Wist clutched her chest and fell to the ground. SHE USES HER WIST POWERS, came the inner thought. She kills from a distance with her mind? YES. HER ANGER HAS RELEASED THE ABILITY THAT HAS ALWAYS BEEN HIDDEN WITHIN HER. BE CAREFUL, SHE IS UNTRAINED. DON'T GET IN FRONT OF HER. THE POWER FLOWS OUT IN A LINEAR LINE FROM BEHIND HER EYES. He cut down two more warriors and positioned himself nearer to Sulamith, thinking: I must get to the fringe of her wave so I can analyze it. CAREFUL, came Night Mist's warning again. Suddenly, Sulamith lowered her dagger and shouted at the enemy in front of her. Six fell dead; their mouths open in silent screams. Darkcian cringed from the alien-ness of that mental ripple across the ether-lake. Yet he analyzed quickly: She changes the resonance of the matter in their bodies in five different dimensions, making the frequencies incompatible with each other. This explodes their life-force. She pointed at four more of the enemy. They, too, fell dead. She had through rage become a Wist Prime. Pandemonium broke out in the front lines of the horde; their panicked retreat crushed many underfoot. But they didn't back up far, Darkcian noticed. "Quickly," he ordered. "The cliff. Climb down." "It's too steep. We'll be killed!" Gravestone shouted. "We'll be killed for certain if we stay," Patra observed. "This Wist uses her powers, but numbers will tell in the end. Our enemies are in the hundreds." Her body was red with blood, and Darkcian was in terror for her. He turned quickly to Sulamith, scooped her up by the waist, and jumped down on a ledge some ten feet below. The Wist demon twisted in his arms and said, "I'm all right. Let me go. I cannot endure your touch for long without going insane." "All right. But climb farther down. I'll cover you." Not waiting to see if she obeyed, he looked up in time to avoid being jumped on by Patra. He then moved aside for Gravestone. Just then two of the enemy looked over the edge. He killed them both with one sweep of his sword. He scrambled downward for the next ledge, following his friends. The sharp rocks cut his hands. But, like the others, he ignored that in the speed of his descent. Panic hung just on the periphery of his thoughts. Down, down they went. Suddenly he heard the blast of many voices and looked up. The warriors of Agon were poring over the cliff's edge by the tens and twenties, looking almost like a brown, lumpy liquid to his sweat-stung eyes. He wiped his face and looked down. His friends were making slow progress, for the way was steep and dangerous. They were helping each other by hand-grasps and foot-holds. He looked up again, thinking: If Sulamith can do it, maybe I can, too. He felt for the ether-lake, that smooth flow of complex energy. Yes, there it is, and there's the human break in its surface, moving in time and space. He analyzed the frequencies of the nodes . . . and twisted them with his mind. Three of the warriors above him stiffened, their mouths opened in panic. He twisted again. Two more fell to their knees upon the ledge and started screaming. Others bumped into those who had stopped, interrupting the flow. More jumped down on the jammed-up group. Yet still more came. YOU SEE? came the inner voice. YOU NEED NOT KILL WHEN A LESS DRASTIC ACTION WILL SUFFICE. I'M PROUD OF YOU. "Look out!" Sulamith's warned. He jumped sideways, out of the path of a fallen warrior. Then another warrior fell past him, then another, their screams fading into the space below until their bodies hit the side of the cliff and brought their sudden silence. Still they pored over the top's edge, more falling out into space if those in front of them didn't descend fast enough. He started down again. As he scurried to the next ledge below, he felt a helping hand assist his climb. Sulamith. When he came even with her, he stopped to look into her ice-blue eyes and said, "If we're this good together against humans, think how well we could do against the ice-tigers." She grabbed the hair behind his head with both hands and kissed him hard and quickly on the lips. For Darkcian, there seemed to be more love in this one touch than in all the words that they had spoken to each other. It was a kiss of indescribable warmth. Unfortunately for him, it lasted only a second before she wrenched herself free and fled downwards again, fleeing as if more than Agon's warriors pursued her. Stunned, he stood rigid, feeling like a man dying of thirst who had just been given a drop of water. Then the thought crystallized in his mind: I want to be like this woman, to have her strength, her courage, and her wisdom. Of all that I've met in the short time since I started thinking again, she's the most perfect. He shook his head to clear it and followed her. The glide-bird ripped out the throat of another warrior. The further they descended, the more difficult the climb became. He sheathed his sword and kept one eye on the pursuit above as he tried to search for hand and foot holds. About fifty feet separated them from the enemy. And the distance was starting to close once more. He drew even with Sulamith again. Here they paused, hanging by their hands, looking into each other's eyes. Her body was covered with sweat, her black hair matted and sticking to her forehead, making her look even more wild, even more beautiful. "You go ahead," she said. "I'll slow them down again." He noticed there was a cut on her cheek, and the blood from it formed a red line clear to her neck. He replied, "No. You continue downward. I'll delay them." "Damn you! Where did you learn to be altruistic? Go!" "I learned it from you. Let's compromise. You take those on the right; I'll take the left." She nodded and looked up. A line of ten warriors to the right stopped their climb downwards and started back up, their faces contorted by fear. Immediately they were stepped on by those from above. Yet the upward-climbing warriors tried to push their companions aside, their movements becoming frantic. More shoving occurred and then blows . . . then fights with weapons. In conjunction, Darkcian twisted the minds of those to the left, and soon the enemy's progress slowed along the entire line again, then stopped. Fear is a weapon, he thought. With Sulamith by his side, Darkcian continued downward. Patra and Gravestone were about fifteen feet lower. And on it went. Time stopped having any meaning to him. There was only fear and pain and satisfaction that this seesaw strategy of downward climbing and pauses to delay their pursuers was working. The glide-bird was relentless. Like clockwork, every fifty seconds, it killed another of the enemy; and then they had to dodge the falling body. Soon there was only about a hundred more feet to go before they reached the bottom. The flat valley lay before them. Sulamith commented between pants, "We'll never out run them once we reach level ground." He answered, "We can if we flee on mu-lynxes." "That will only delay our deaths. They can call the cats also." He found a foothold for her and guided her foot into it. "Not if I can make all other mu-lynxes stay away from this area." "That's impossible. The combined calls of the above warriors will be stronger than your orders to the cats. As before, the enemy's advantage lies in their huge numbers." "We shall see. At least it's for certain they won't find enough beasts for each warrior. If nothing else, that will cut down the numbers." Gravestone called from below, "If we split our band in half, we can divide their numbers again. Patra and I can ride in one direction, you and Sulamith another." "My father speaks clearly, Dark," Sulamith said. "I know," he said. "But I don't want us divided." "We must act intelligently if we're to survive, my son," Gravestone called up to him. "We'll find you both later, if we live. Where will you head?" Darkcian looked at Sulamith as she answered for him. "In the equator at the Desert-of-Grief. If we survive the pursuit, we'll be there, somewhere." He knew--as he was sure she did also--there was never any thought of the two of them parting from each other. Gravestone said, "I hear, daughter of mine. If Agon wills it, we'll meet again on the other side of the world." Sulamith turned her blood-smeared face toward Darkcian and whispered, "Ah, Dark. Did you hear? He called me daughter." "I heard. He--" "Look!" Patra shouted. She had just reached the floor of the plains. Darkcian and the rest jerked their attention in the direction that Patra was pointing. Four mu-lynxes stood waiting for them. "You're good, Dark, very good," Sulamith said with a new twinkle in her eye and, he thought, some amazement in her voice. "How you were able to concentrate enough in the face of danger to call mu-lynxes is beyond me." They all dropped to the ground beside Patra, panting. Darkcian reached down to grab Sulamith's hands and turned them over. Her palms were torn and bloody. She jerked her hands free, retreated a few steps, stopped, and then turned her back to him. "The pain helps keep the desire in check," she said quickly, wiping her palms on her thighs. Even dirty, bloody, and sweaty, she was astonishingly beautiful and sensuous, and lust built in Darkcian as he gazed at her. Patra looked back and up. "We cannot pause," she said in a rush. "We lead by only minutes." "Not even that, now," came Gravestone dull voice. They all followed the older warrior's gaze, looking outward. Dozens of mu-lynxes were running toward them, and Darkcian's heart felt like it would stop as he noticed a warrior on the back of each beast. "Damn," breathed Patra. Another dozen suddenly appeared behind the first wave. "Some damn smart bastard planned ahead," Gravestone said. The weariness in his voice made it break. Sulamith quickly whirled to face Darkcian and spoke softly, though with a rush, "Ah, my only friend, I've loved and desired you beyond what I thought was possible. Such ecstasy we could have experienced if you had been a Wist. If I have any regrets other than our deaths, it would be that. To have consummated that which has drawn us together this past month would have been a joy beyond life itself, beyond even my love for you. If only we had had time, but time has run out. I'm so sorry. Forgive my despair." She shook her head. "At least I get to die by your side." Darkcian refused to look at her. His mind was churning with an unreasonable terror. Night Mist, he called silently. Can you save us? WHY SHOULD I SAVE YOU? HAVE YOU THOUGHT OF ALL THE POSSIBILITIES OF ESCAPE? I WON'T HELP YOU IF YOU WON'T HELP YOURSELF. The feeling of foreboding increased. They all stood there like lambs waiting for slaughter. If I die, you die, he thought back. The silence of no answer was like a shout of doom. If you won't save me, save them. They're worth a hundred of me. WHAT MAKE YOU THINK I CAN SAVE ANYONE? Can't you? More silence. He closed his eyes, and the memory of a past conversation with Night Mist echoed in his thoughts: It's concentration that counts. You must keep your focus on the desired result. He then focused his entire mind on one thing, the mu-lynxes. He linked with one of the enemy's beasts, then another, then another . . . on and on. "Look!" exclaimed Gravestone. "The warrior-ridden mu-lynxes have stopped." "They are turning around!" shouted Patra. "What?" Sulamith stepped in front of Darkcian and studied his face. "I think I know what you are doing, first-love," she whispered. "I can feel the power in the mental-ether. Take my psi-energy for help. You'll surely die if you expend that kind of force for long. Please." She watched him turn his head upward, as if gazing at the sky; but his eyes were still closed. She could see the pulse in his throat. His heart was beating fast, hammering. Horror boiled up in her heart and throat, choking her. He spoke a halting manner, "Move away from me. I gather energy from the air. Hurry!" Sulamith felt a sudden chill and jumped backwards. The cold increased; she retreated further. She watched, horrified, as ice formed on the ground in a circle about his feet. A mist of super-cold air fogged the immediate space around him. It was as if he had suddenly walked into a cloud. "Don't die for us," she pleaded. "I can help. Take my energy. Take my life if you need it!" "No," he croaked and shook his head violently. "I don't know how to do that. But this . . . this I know." "They're running away!" shouted Patra, still oblivious to what was happening behind her. "How is that possible? Why?" Sulamith saw Darkcian suddenly relax, the strain go out of his face. She turned towards the enemy mu-lynxes. Some of them were whirling in circles; others were still running away. Some of the warriors were jumping off their crazed mounts. "Quickly!" shouted Gravestone. "I don't know what's happening, but we must take advantage of the enemy's confusion and make our escape." Patra seemed to come out of her open-mouthed shock. She turned quickly toward Darkcian and Sulamith. "Good-bye. I love you both. Someday . . . someday . . ." She passed her hand over her eyes. "Someday, I hope I can tell you how much." As if an ice-tiger itself was behind her, she ran for the mu-lynxes that Darkcian had called. Gravestone took two tries before he managed to blurt out, "Honor. You both have given me so much of it. All of my sorrow has been worth it." He raised his left hand and whispered, "May your enemies fear you this day and the next, my children." He turned and ran after Patra. As her father and stepmother rode away, Sulamith noticed Patra donning a diode-cloth. Sulamith looked quickly at Darkcian. Yes, he had seen it, too. "Clever," he said. Gazing after her stepmother, she whispered, "Never before this day has anyone ever wanted to die for me. I suddenly find I don't want such a sacrifice to be made." Darkcian ran past her, saying over his shoulder, "Then don't let it be in vain. We must flee in the other direction!"
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