Deathsport

by William Hughes

  “No, I must try. You must let me go. They killed my father!”

  Kaz did not let go for an instant. He knew that the young man could not think straight for the moment, so stricken was he by his grief. He took no offence at the Stateman’s behaviour.

  “Your father knew the risks.”

  “It should have been me rather than him.”

  Kaz stayed quiet. “Be brave like him, then.”

  Deneer called across: “He would not want you to waste your life. Here is not the place to fight them. He would have wanted you to come on with us.”

  This made the young man pause as he absorbed her words. She was right, of course. He had been the one who had wanted to press on, leaving the Guides if necessary. It was his father who had advised patience, had kept him in check. Now, with the older man’s death, he realised that he had been correct in his advice.

  Marcus relaxed and Kaz Oshay let his hand drop from the young man’s arm. Deneer had said the right words. He would stick with them now, not throw his life away in a useless gesture. Marcus said quietly, a set determination replacing grief on his face:

  “Yes. Damn it, you are right.”

  The others smiled on him, sympathising with his loss for a moment. Then Kaz lifted his head and listened. There were twin threats to them now. He could sense the Flash Wind bearing down on them, and, over its faint rumble, he could hear the machines of Ankar Moor and the remaining Enforcers pursuing them.

  “O.K., let’s go.”

  He raced back to his machine, remounted and all three started off in unison, across the great waste plain to their destination.

  For an hour or more they travelled in silence, taking advantage of every downward slope to speed their passage, every gully to keep them hidden as much as possible from their pursuers. By sheer guts and personality, Ankar Moor seemed to be forcing his group on, slowly gaining on them.

  At last, Kaz led the other two up the almost vertical side of a huge hill, then stopped his machine on the top of it and looked back, pointing out their pursuers, coming across the plain, perhaps a mile behind. He sighed. He was getting worried.

  “They’re gaining on us.”

  Deneer’s eye followed the direction in which he was pointing and she said firmly:

  “We could stop. Stand and fight them from here. We have the high ground and that will give us the advantage.”

  Kaz would have agreed with her under normal circumstances, but now he shook his head.

  “Not with the Flash Wind coming. It will be on us soon.”

  Marcus was alarmed. This was the first he had known of such a threat to them:

  “A Flash Wind?”

  Deneer said anxiously, “We must hurry, we must reach the sand cliffs before it catches up with us.”

  Marcus was puzzled. “There is no sign of it.”

  Deneer merely replied, “We are Guides. We know these things.”

  Marcus shook his head. He would believe anything now after what he had seen. Kaz turned to Deneer:

  “You must lead off now. You know this land better than I. You lead the way.”

  Deneer nodded.

  “I will lead.”

  They all restarted their machines and Deneer led off down the far side of the hill. They had reached the bottom and were moving forward again over open ground as Ankar Moor led his men to the top of the hill they had just quit. He halted them and looked around, snorting as he saw the fugitives on the plain ahead. Soon they would be at the sandstone cliffs and he must reach them almost as fast as they.

  Then something stirred within him, another trace of his training within the code of the consciousness stirred and he glanced round. On the western sky there seemed to be a blood-red blanket. It was still far off, but it was moving inexorably forward.

  He turned to Polna and pointed out the sight he had felt before he had seen it:

  “A Flash Wind.”

  Polna paled.

  “We must find shelter.”

  Ankar Moor glared at him, but agreed with his point of view. It was a situation in which cowardice was not to be sneered at. A Flash Wind would kill all who were not in shelter from it.

  “Right. We must press on.”

  Polna was alarmed; it was as if Ankar Moor was ignoring the danger:

  “But where?”

  “The sandstone cliffs. That’s the nearest point.”

  Polna glanced at the receding fugitives, the question silent on his lips. Ankar Moor went on:

  “Yes, we will find them there. That is where they are going, too. Come on, ride.”

  With that, he gunned his machine and started down the side of the hill in pursuit. With a reluctance that was partially countered by their fear of the approaching Flash Wind, Polna and the other men followed him down the hillside, all moving as fast as they dared.

  Behind them the oceans of dark, ominous, blood-red clouds boiled across the sky, hissing audibly as they carried their radioactive filth on their path of destruction.

  Kaz, Deneer and Marcus reached the lip of the canyon and then were forced to roar along it until they found a slide down which they could go to the canyon floor. Once there, the great sandstone cliffs were facing them on the far side of the canyon. On the side they were on, there was sandstone too, and there were great gouges in it that would give shelter from the coming storm, but Deneer pointed across the canyon:

  “It was over there.”

  Marcus said in a panicky voice:

  “But the Flash Wind.”

  Kaz’s eyes flashed a warning though his face and his voice remained soft and understanding.

  “We have time.”

  “But—”

  “Be patient. We do not wish to die, either.”

  Marcus understood he had been snubbed, but respected it; the ways of these Guides were strange, but he was coming to understand them and his father’s praise for them, with every moment that passed, more and more.

  The three fugitives drove down the canyon until Deneer held up her hand for them to stop. The two Guides got off their machines quite close to the cliffs and put them on their stands. Though he did not understand exactly what was happening, Marcus followed suit.

  Even he could hear the hissing approach of the storm clouds now and he was getting frightened by them. He expected that all three of them would make for the nearest cave, but, to his surprise, Deneer walked out from the wall of the canyon. Her eyes were shut and she was breathing deeply and seemed to be waiting for something.

  Marcus opened his mouth to call her back, but a firm glance from the watchful Kaz Oshay silenced him. For a while, they watched her walking up and down, with her eyes still closed, as the hissing became more and more audible.

  With each striding up and down, Deneer was getting further and further out into the centre of the canyon. At last, when she was far enough away so that he believed that he could not be heard, Marcus asked:

  “What is it? What is she doing?”

  Kaz was quiet.

  “She is looking.”

  The Stateman frowned.

  “Looking for what?”

  “For a sign.”

  Marcus bit his lip. Why did these people never answer a straight question with a straight answer? He listened to the approaching Flash Wind for another few seconds.

  “Please, we have to find shelter. The wind will be on us in a minute, if Ankar Moor doesn’t get to us first.”

  Kaz nodded. He knew all that. It was a waste of breath and time to talk about it. He did not take his eyes off Deneer as she continued her blind walk. Marcus tried again.

  “What the hell is she looking for?”

  “The past.”

  Deneer had entered the area where the caravan had been attacked and got the vague memories of it immediately. She stopped dead and the whole memory of what had happened slipped through her mind like the re-run of a film.

  She stood with her eyes shut and watched the whole action again—the panic of the Statemen—the for
ming of the circle—Adriann making Karissa stay with the others—the fight itself—the death of Adriann—then Karissa moving out on her pony—and the men who crept from the caves and took her while Deneer was trying to fight off the Death Machines.

  She opened her eyes and turned suddenly.

  “Kaz Oshay. The Mutants. It is true. The Mutants have her. I have just seen it.”

  Even Kaz paled. The chances of them finding and rescuing the girl would be small. She might be dead already. Even so, he found time to turn to Marcus. “You see. We have found the past.”

  Deneer raced back, her eyes shining. Her vision of the consciousness had told her much.

  “I think that she is still alive. I feel it. The Mutants have her in their caves.”

  Kaz fastened his eyes on her.

  “She lives?”

  “I believe it.”

  “Then we will save her.”

  Marcus exploded with a combination of fear and disbelief.

  “What? You mean we will have to go into the caves and seek out the Mutants? You’re crazy. None of us will ever come out alive from an attempt like that.”

  Kaz turned and fired him a look of burning anger. There was no argument on this as far as he was concerned.

  “Stateman, whether you come or stay behind means nothing to me or my fellow Guide. A Guide takes care of his own. That is the first duty of any Guide.”

  He turned away and he and Deneer began to run together towards one of the cave entrances. The rumbling of the coming Flash Wind storm grew nearer and the sky seemed to be darkening as the sun was obscured. Marcus turned and, reluctant to lose his life, followed them:

  “Goddammit.”

  Ankar Moor coasted his great machine up to the lip of the canyon, where the fugitives had come. He looked down and he saw the three of them on the far side, too far away to catch before the storm, running towards the entrance of one of the caves. He cursed silently as he watched them go. He must find a way down into the canyon quickly, then shelter on this side until the storm had passed over. It meant that he might suffer several hours delay, though a Flash Wind had not been known to take more than that time to pass.

  His straggling men caught up with him and Polna halted at his side.

  “There they go.”

  Ankar Moor pointed at the oncoming storm.

  “We are too late for them now.”

  Polna sighed.

  “Then they have escaped.”

  “No.” Ankar Moor felt more secure than he had that whole day. “They cannot go anywhere either, once the storm has come. They’ll be right there when the wind has passed.”

  He turned his machine:

  “Come, we will find a way down to shelter from the storm.”

  They rode along the lip of the canyon until they found the same slide down which Kaz Oshay and the others had gone. Once on the canyon floor they made for the nearest of the sandstone hollows and parked their machines so that they might shelter from the storm, which was now almost on top of them. Ankar Moor knew now that all he had to do was wait.

  Deneer led the other two past three of the lower cave entrances before she stopped before one that excited her.

  “They took her in this way.”

  Marcus took Kaz’s arm. “How does she know that?”

  “She is a Guide, Stateman.”

  Kaz put himself ahead of Deneer and plunged into the comparative darkness of the cave. With a glance of sympathy, Deneer followed and then Marcus reluctantly brought up the rear. Once they were in the entrance, both Guides drew their Whistlers and held them tightly in their hands, ready for the first sign of an attack. Kaz took the one hand blaster they had from his belt and handed it to Marcus.

  Marcus gripped it tightly. He felt a little less naked with it in his hand, but he had no chance to show his gratitude for, as Kaz Oshay turned away and scanned the darkening interior of the cave, it seemed that all light was blotted out as the Flash Wind enveloped the canyon outside. The hissing was so loud and rumbling that it would be impossible for him to make himself heard. He could only give thanks that they had got into shelter in time. The fear of the Flash Wind was real—while the threat of the Mutants who might be hiding was still only a theoretical danger.

  Kaz flattened himself against the wall of the cave and began to move slowly forward as his two companions followed his lead.

  As they moved further into the interior of the caves and the hissing of the deadly wind receded, Marcus realised that his thought that the Mutants might not be there was a cruel self-deception. The stench that seemed to be coming towards them was almost making him choke and a glance at his two companions told him that their more sensitive nostrils were even more affected, though they were doing their best not to show their distaste as they pressed forward.

  At last it was possible for them to stop and speak. There was still no sign of any Mutant look-outs and for that they could feel relieved. Kaz signalled them to stop and moved back so that they could huddle together.

  Kaz spoke first to Deneer. “I think they are close. Our hopes for our own rise.”

  She nodded.

  “Out Union is strong. We will succeed.”

  “It is. We will.”

  Kaz now turned to Marcus.

  “If we run across an individual, let’s see if we can silence him with our Whistlers. I don’t want you to use your anti-matter blaster unless you have to. It makes too much noise. It could bring more of them swarming than we can deal with.”

  Marcus nodded.

  “I will do my best.”

  Kaz had no irony in his tone as he said:

  “For a Stateman you are as brave as a Guide.”

  Marcus was flattered and answered quietly, “Thank you, Kaz Oshay.”

  “It is deserved, Stateman.”

  Once more they prepared to move forward, into the almost physical barrier of stench that seemed to come towards them from the depths of the cave.

  They rounded a corner in the passage and Kaz Oshay signalled to them to halt once more, before pointing forward where the shaft branched off. From one of the two choices of shaft there came a gleam of light, heralding occupation further on.

  “We are on their track.”

  Marcus shuddered. “Don’t they sleep during the day?”

  Deneer shook her head. “Only some of them.”

  “Then they could be waiting for us?”

  Kaz managed a smile. “Let us see.”

  He motioned them on. So far, Marcus had been perspiring from fear and had been ashamed of this manifestation of his faint heart; now the air was so thick and foetid that he noticed that his companions were sweating as much as he and he was relieved that he need no longer feel ashamed.

  He was determined to get to Triton and he realised that his father had been right. With these two he had the best chance of getting there. But first, as they had repeatedly underlined, the Guides took care of their own. Perhaps now he could help them retrieve the little girl if she was still alive, and that would even the balance for what they would do for him.

  The three of them started down the tunnel from which the hint of light was coming. They had only gone a very short distance, in silence, when Kaz signalled to them to halt again.

  The walls of this piece of tunnel were honeycombed with cross-tunnels and light came from some of these as well. If they did not go very cautiously they could find themselves attacked from behind and trapped.

  Marcus took the opportunity to whisper to Deneer, “I’ve never smelt anything so sickening—what is it?”

  It was Kaz who leant back to answer.

  “Rotting flesh.”

  Marcus shuddered and Deneer, who had a more understanding mind for the ways and tastes of Statemen, smiled.

  “The smell troubles you?”

  He nodded, embarrassed.

  “Yes, I’m afraid it does.”

  She reassured him. “There is no shame in that. You must just learn to close your mind, then you will
not notice.”

  He nodded, though the smell was making him gag.

  “That is the way of the Guides?”

  “Yes. That is the way of the Guides.”

  Kaz signalled violently for them to be quiet and all three pressed their bodies hard against the damp rock of the wall. A moment later two of the Mutants emerged from one of the side tunnels further on and shuffled away from them for a moment, before disappearing into another tunnel. Kaz turned and whispered: “We will follow them.”

  Deneer nodded her agreement and they started slowly forward again. Marcus brought up the rear, muttering to himself in low tones. He would have been ashamed if he had realised that the hearing of the Guides was good enough to pick up his words:

  “I’ve got to be out of my mind.”

  The moment they turned into the shaft that they had seen the two Mutants go down, they realised they were on the right track. The tunnel sloped down and was lit at intervals by torches that blazed like the temporary ones they had made when they had entered the ruined factory complex. It seemed to Marcus that this had been centuries ago, though it was less than twenty-four hours. He remembered his father showing them how to make the torches and felt sad again at the older man’s death. At least it took his mind off the terrible smell, he realised, after a few moments of edging forward with thoughts of his father in his mind.

  The tunnel twisted and turned as they went further and further down into the depth of the rock. In a way these caves performed the duty of a natural Helix City. No wonder these Mutants, however misshapen they were, had managed to survive the centuries since the devastation.

  Kaz halted them again as he heard the strange twittering sounds that the Mutants made coming from around the next bend. This went on for a few moments, then a set of footsteps padded away into the distance. A moment later, a single Mutant started moving towards them.

  He was small and very thin, almost no more than blue skin and bone, his bulging egg-like eyes the fattest thing about him. The three intruders pressed themselves in against the wall and waited for him to come on.

  He shuffled slowly towards them, unaware of the trap that lay in wait for him. He was making a strange bubbling sound in his throat, which Kaz knew was the sound of a Mutant laughing. Something had amused him and the three hidden ambushers waited for him to come.