The Void Trilogy 3-Book Bundle

by Peter F. Hamilton

  “All right,” Topar said. “Let’s follow him, see where he takes us.”

  The ge-eagle stayed high in the air above the bandit, gliding idly to keep pace. Topar got them all back in the saddle as the bird reached the edge of Edeard’s perception, and they started to ride slowly after the bandit, leaving the forest behind. All of them cast a seclusion haze even though the nebulae above were wan shadows of their usual iridescence. The mild psychic baffle should be enough to deter all but the sharpest farsight at night. To bolster their safety, the ge-wolves ranged around them, while two of the night-viewing ge-eagles under Verini’s instruction scouted ahead. Their own farsight was used to guide the horses through the darkness.

  “Is it just one?” Macsen asked after half an hour. The bandit was making good time, alternately jogging and walking, heading southeast and making use of the spinneys and thickets that were scattered across the plateau. He was clearly adept at moving unseen across the land; even the ge-eagle had trouble keeping track of him in some of the deeper terrain.

  “I can’t see any others,” Edeard admitted. They’d deliberately kept a long way back in case the bandit had a powerful farsight. “But I know from experience they can all use concealment.”

  “Great Lady,” Boloton said. “There could be an army of them following us.”

  “There isn’t,” Edeard promised him.

  It was almost midnight when the bandit reached the top end of a narrow gully. He stopped and squatted down amid a clump of tall weather-worn stones coated in thick kimoss. The fastfox sped away, back the way they’d just come.

  “Let’s get into cover,” Topar said. They guided their mounts toward the nearest small wood.

  The fastfox chased back along its path, stopping to sniff cautiously every now and again.

  “He’s double-checking,” Fresage said. “Wherever it is, he considers it important. He’s not going on until he’s satisfied he’s clear.”

  “Pull the ge-eagle back,” Topar told Edeard. “If their camp is nearby, we can’t risk exposing ourselves.”

  Edeard instructed the bird to spiral higher. The lay of the land was revealed to him, falling away to the east and split by several rocky gullies.

  “Two of those gullies meet up. Look,” Verini said. “It’s a hollow with a cliff along one side. Perfect place for a concealed camp.”

  “This is where I go in and check, then,” Edeard said.

  “I’ll come with you,” Dinlay said immediately.

  “Thanks, but this is just a scout around to see if they’re there. My concealment is stronger than anyone’s, and I know I can shield myself if they do spot me.” He could sense the concern in everybody’s mind.

  “Just be careful,” Macsen said. “There’s no city to protect you out here.”

  “I’m just going to look. I swear on the Lady.”

  They all watched through the lone ge-eagle as the fastfox returned and the bandit started down the gully.

  “You’ve got two hours,” Topar said. “After that we will come looking for you.”

  It took Edeard a while to decide on his approach. The top of the little cliff would surely be guarded, and fastfoxes had an excellent sense of smell. But the gullies, too, would be watched. Possibly there’d be a trip wire that he might not detect.

  The cliff top it is, then.

  As soon as he left the wood, he spun a concealment around himself, becoming no more than a dense wisp of dark air. His farsight swept out, alert for any hint of danger.

  Just as he’d suspected, there were fastfoxes acting as sentinels above the cliff. They were curled up amid the boulders littering the long grass, wide awake, sniffing the night air for foreign scents. He reached out with his longtalk and began subverting their orders, coaxing them away from their obedient attentive state, allowing them to stretch and settle down comfortably, scratch their hides, and groom some of the day’s mud away. A sensation of contentment began to percolate through their thoughts. When one finally registered his scent, it dismissed the intrusive smell as an irrelevance.

  There was a lone human watcher standing near the edge of the cliff. He was concealed, but Edeard could sense his farsight washing back and forth intermittently. Once he’d worked out the approximate location, he used his own farsight to gently prize apart the concealment. The bandit was revealed, carrying twin belts of ammunition boxes across his chest and a repeat-fire gun over his shoulder. There were also several knives and blade discs in various pouches. He even had an ordinary pistol. For all his toughness and weapons, he hadn’t noticed how slack the fastfoxes had become. His thoughts remained blissfully unsuspicious.

  Edeard picked a section of the cliff eighty yards away from the bandit and crept forward.

  “Nine of them?” Topar asked. “You’re sure?”

  “Yes,” Edeard said for the third time. “One on top of the cliff controlling the fastfoxes. Five asleep below an overhang, and the one we followed settling down for the night. Then there’s two watching the gullies, both concealed. There’s also two fastfoxes in each gully. I saw five ge-eagles and nine terrestrial horses.”

  “What about supplies?” Larby asked.

  “A pile of sacks and bags, probably enough food for three weeks at least. And three boxes of ammunition. They’re not done with raiding yet.”

  “Bastards,” Verini growled.

  “So can we take them?” Topar asked. “They outnumber us.”

  “By one,” Fresage said dismissively. “And we have surprise on our side.”

  “I think it’s possible,” Edeard said. “We’ll need to approach down a gully. I can keep the fastfoxes calm long enough for us to get past them. The trouble will be the three watchers; they longtalk each other constantly. As soon as one is taken out, the others will know.”

  “So we have to be within striking distance of the camp when that happens,” Topar said.

  “I can take out the three watchers fast enough,” Edeard said. “But I can’t guarantee they won’t call out, so you’ll have to deal with the others. Especially if we’re going to take one alive.”

  “I’d prefer to take two of them,” Topar said.

  “Can our ge-wolves tackle the fastfoxes?” a mildly apprehensive Dinlay asked.

  “We can’t take them with us,” Edeard said. “That’s a whole new instinct I’d have to soothe out of the fastfoxes, and a much stronger one than human scent. We have to keep this as simple as possible.”

  “Lady … fastfoxes.”

  “They’re fierce, but that’s all they’ve got. Don’t waste time trying to shoot one, especially in the dark. Heartsqueeze them or pulp their brains. It barely takes a second to kill one. Fear is their only ally.”

  “Oh, Lady,” Dinlay groaned.

  “Can you do this?” Topar asked with quiet authority.

  Dinlay took a breath, managing to appear quite offended. “Of course I can do this. It’s only a fool who won’t admit his worry.”

  “Good. I want you to take out the two fastfoxes in the gully as soon as Edeard deals with the watchers.”

  “Certainly.”

  Larby glanced up at the sky. “Do we do this now?”

  “No,” Topar said. “It’s only a couple of hours until dawn, and we haven’t slept. We spend the day lying up here in the woods and resting; then tomorrow after midnight we strike.”

  Edeard had never felt so apprehensive before. All those times he’d sneaked into the House of Blue Petals, rescuing Mirnatha, arresting Buate, even facing down Bise atop his mansion … he’d known and understood what he was facing then. This was different: The bandits were an unknown, and he certainly wasn’t as confident as Topar that they could bring this off. It would take only one little mistake to alert the watchers, and then they’d be fending off nine rapid-fire guns.

  At first light, three of the bandits left their camp, ge-eagles orbiting high above them and fastfoxes trotting obediently alongside. One of the men even sneaked through the edge of the wood where Edeard
and his companions were encamped. Thankfully, his ge-eagle never spotted them as it flew overhead.

  One of the bandits headed back to the pass at the side of Mount Alvice, while the other two went off in completely different directions.

  “Picket duty,” Boloton decided. “They’re making sure nobody gets close. We were lucky.”

  “No,” Verini said. “They’re good; we’re better.”

  “We’ll know tonight,” Macsen said sagely.

  Edeard didn’t manage much sleep during the day. He was restless, his mind going over the plan again and again. It all depended on how fast he could eliminate the three watchers. That’s if they only have three watchers. Suppose they change the pattern each night. I would. No, I wouldn’t. He eventually fell asleep in the afternoon.

  Larby woke him. “Picket guards are on their way back,” he said as Edeard blinked up at the darkening sky. Buluku was already visible, its swaying violet length beset with waves of electric-blue light. Odin’s Sea was rising above the eastern horizon, several scarlet spikes crowning its blue and green nucleus. He found its presence strangely reassuring. I wonder if Boyd has reached it already. Probably not. Who knows how far away it is?

  There was an unusual number of stars, twinkling away in the wide gaps between the nebulae. At least Honious hadn’t appeared in the firmament. The way Edeard was feeling, he probably would have taken that as a bad omen. Stupid, because the sky is just the sky no matter what.

  They ate together, munching their way through half-stale bread and some cold pasties followed by dried fruit. However, Topar did allow them to use the jamolar oil stove to heat water for tea and coffee. They were too far away for a fastfox to pick up the scent.

  “No one else left or joined during the day,” Macsen said. “So it’s just the nine of them.”

  “You sure it’s only nine?” Fresage asked.

  “I counted nine,” Edeard assured him.

  “I want everyone to oil and check their pistols,” Topar said.

  Edeard was thankful for the distraction, even though he knew he was sure he’d never use the weapon. His third hand was all he needed. But he went through the routine anyway.

  Just after midnight, Topar led them out of the woods. It took them an hour to retrace the route Edeard had taken the previous night, moving slowly and cautiously. As they reached the end of the gully, they linked hands before summoning up a concealment. Both Larby and Topar had insisted this was the best way of keeping in contact; whispers and strong farsight might be detected by the watchers. It was a strange sensation; Edeard could feel Dinlay’s hand in his, yet if he glanced back, he could see only a blur of darkness.

  Edeard walked forward very slowly, using the weakest farsight he could to check the ground for trip wires or any other alarms. As he did so, he began to feel uncomfortable. A tremor ran through him. Something’s wrong.

  The boulder-strewn walls rose sharply as the slope carried them down toward the bandit camp. Soon the steep walls were topped by imposing rock cliffs. Below their feet the ground was turning damp. Nebula light revealed a meandering channel with thick reed tufts growing out between the stones. Edeard’s trepidation grew with every step. Cold had claimed him now. He knew what this feeling was—the same as that night in Ashwell, the same as the entrapment atop the tower in Eyrie.

  There can’t be anything wrong. Not here. They don’t know we’re coming for them. They can’t know!

  On top of that anxiety, Edeard began to worry if his longtalk could reach the sentry fastfoxes before they scented him coming. It would be touch and go, he knew. He hadn’t realized the gully was this deep or so serpentine.

  The sense of foreboding grew even stronger. He thought he could hear a whisper. Not with his ears but with his mind. A very faint longtalk?

  He walked through a small shallow stream, moving carefully so he didn’t create a splash, only to find his boots sinking with alarming speed. Quicksand. “Shit,” he whispered through clenched teeth. He had to reach down with his third hand to stabilize the treacherous ground. His finger tapped three times on Dinlay’s hand—caution.

  There was a tremendous scraping sound from above, as if the stone cliffs were splitting. Edeard immediately sensed a number of powerful farsights stabbing down, farsights that weren’t fooled by concealment. The noise grew even louder.

  “Weapons!” Topar shouted.

  Edeard dropped his concealment and sent his farsight straight toward the sound. What he found shocked him for a dangerous instant. Three huge boulders were starting to roll down the slope directly above them. As they moved, they dislodged a whole swarm of smaller boulders. “Ambush!” he bellowed, and immediately strengthened his shield. At once he realized it wouldn’t be the slightest use, not against such a cascade of stone; the mass starting to slide down on top of them was incredible. He instinctively grabbed Dinlay with his third hand and threw him up the slope on the other side.

  “Hello again, Edeard,” a mental voice sneered.

  Edeard was scrambling up the slope as the first boulders picked up speed. He reached for Macsen. But he knew that voice and the cruelty behind it: the leader from Ashwell, the man who had destroyed Edeard’s village and his life. Akeem’s murderer.

  Dinlay had recovered from his abrupt flight. He started shooting his pistol across the gully. It was a signal for Topar and Fresage to open fire. Verini began to run back along the gully. The overwhelming noise from the accelerating avalanche was joined by the deadly sound of rapid-fire guns. The three large boulders had been covering the mouths of caves in the cliffs. Now a dozen bandits were spilling out, taking aim at Edeard and his companions. The only thing preventing immediate death was the avalanche itself. Too many rocks were interfering with their field of fire.

  “The great Waterwalker himself.” Edeard’s tormentor laughed.

  By now the smaller head-size stones were bouncing down around Edeard. Bullets chewed the ground beside his feet. A screaming Dinlay dived for cover behind a rock, but he wasn’t fast enough. Bullets chewed his legs, then thudded into his torso.

  A stream of bullets smashed into Edeard. His shield held, and he instinctively punched back along the line of attack. One of the ambushers flew backward through the air, spraying blood.

  Three big stones crashed into Fresage. His cry was cut off.

  Macsen fired up at the ambushers. The ground around him was ripped apart by rapid gunfire. Edeard screamed at the massive flare of pain Macsen’s dying brain unleashed. His third hand lashed out wildly again at the ambushers, knocking four of them sideways. Two came careering down the slope after the avalanche, bones snapping as they twisted and tumbled.

  A giant boulder smashed into Larby’s chest, flinging him to the ground. More stones bounced and skittered on top of him.

  Edeard was dancing about on the slope, trying to avoid the lethal barrage, smacking at the stones hurtling at him, deflecting them. Then the biggest boulder of all, nearly twice his height, slammed into the bottom of the gully, shaking the ground. Momentum sent it spinning right at him.

  He held it. The incredible weight was nothing. He just grabbed it with his third hand and stopped it dead in the air. It hung there, three feet off the ground, as his lips twisted savagely with the effort. A shower of smaller stones from the avalanche smacked into it. Edeard held fast. One of the other original boulders rolled past, then teetered on the slope and skittered back down to the bottom of the gully.

  “Ladyfuck!” someone’s frantic longtalk shouted.

  “How’s he doing that?”

  “Kill him. Kill the little shit.”

  The rapid-fire guns began shooting. Bullets thudded into the boulder hanging in front of Edeard. He could hear strange whirring pings as ricochets twirled off in all directions. The reverberations of falling rock grumbled away as the avalanche slithered to its end.

  Edeard lifted the boulder high above his head, higher, three times his height, then higher still. It drew level with the caves on the other side
of the gully. Seven bandits were crouched down on a long ledge running in front of the dark openings. They gaped in disbelief at the massive rock that was now curving through the air toward them, accelerating.

  It struck the first one, knocking him into the gully. The impact didn’t even slow it down. Everyone on the ledge tried to run, but there was no room and no time. The boulder hammered into them, crushing their bodies to pulp or sending them spinning off into the chasm. Then Edeard brought it down very precisely on the last bandit.

  After that, he simply stood there, arms by his side, staring numbly at the great swath of shingle the avalanche had created on the other side of the gully. He started to shake. First his arms, then his legs trembled and his muscles gave out. He dropped to his knees.

  “Dinlay?” he called with mind and voice. “Dinlay? Macsen? Topar? Anyone?”

  He sensed the fastfoxes coming, slinking along the bottom of the gully, hurrying to do their masters’ bidding, to bring death to the intruder. Without even thinking, he shoved his third hand into their skulls and tore at the soft brain tissue. They fell silently, sprawling over the stony ground.

  The remaining bandits followed stealthily, creeping along under concealment, rapid-fire guns held ready. Edeard let them come close, then killed them—pulling them from where they crouched and crawled and snapping their spines. They were discarded one after the other, dropping out of the night to lie broken beside their fastfoxes. He felt nothing: no sorrow, no anger. Nothing.

  Dinlay’s shredded body was sprawled on the slope above him, where he should have been safe. Where he would have been safe after Edeard dropped him there if he’d just stayed down. But Dinlay would never cower behind a rock while his comrades were under attack. Not Dinlay.

  Edeard focused his farsight down the slope. Macsen’s bloody corpse was staring up at Odin’s Sea. Defiant to the last, he’d even gotten off a shot after the first swarm of bullets had struck. Fresage and Topar were buried below mounds of stone. Boloton had been pinned down by a rock landing on his legs. Other stones had battered him while several bullets punctured his chest and head. There wasn’t much left that was recognizable. Verini hadn’t gotten more than half a dozen paces back up the gully before the rapid-fire guns had found him. Larby’s arms and legs protruded from underneath one of the large boulders; there was nothing left of his torso but a mangled patch of gore soaking into the earth.