Charley shook her head. "I think they are. I guess out here everything's below the ground and when water activates them or wakes them up they do all their living in a few moments. They're tearing that thing to pieces looking for the smallest extra drop of water still left, Sam!" She looked nervously down at the ground on which their wagon sat. "Do me a favor, Sam-don't spill anything. Please don't spill anything!"
On the other side of the still immobile wagons, Jahoort was fairly free with his sword over the captive.
"I'd like to pour some water slowly over you, but I can't spare none," the navigator said matter-of-factly. " 'Course, if I was to prick an artery along here and let the blood flow down it'd come to the same thing, wouldn't it? Only a lot slower." He kicked the man in the side. "What do you say, friend? Or do I maybe cut your balls off and let the blood make the sippiqua rise? That'd be a pretty neat entry into the body, wouldn't it, friend? They'd slowly drink you dry from the inside."
The man glared at him, but looking in Jahoort's eyes he saw immediately a reflection that scared the hell out of him. He saw himself.
"What do you want to know, you old fart?"
Jahoort smiled sweetly. "What happened to the troops? What's this raid all about, anyway? We don't have no thin' worth this kind'a risk."
"All I know is this changeling's got hold of some kind of repeater gun. Mowed all ten of them Whiteheads down in nothin' flat. Never saw nothin' like it. Neither did they. We was picked up, recruited for odd jobs. Good money. They told us to pretend to be the soldiers and make sure we met you soon enough for you to see us and too late to backtrack. Whatever we found was ours. Only thing they want's the Mandan cloaks. If you was too tough, we was to blow the water and scram. I'd'a got away, too, if that bitch hadn't got me with that fucking whip! All your horsemen were off chasin' the others."
"Mandan gold again! Why? Folks out here don't need no Mandan gold cloaks. They already been touched by the changewind. They can smell 'em so far away they can warn all Creation to keep out of its way."
"I dunno."
The sword moved; sharp as a razor at its tip, it traced a thin, bloody line on his. thigh.
"I don't know, I tell you!" the man screamed. "I swear it! You don't ask no questions in this business, Cap. You just do it and take your reward or your lumps!"
The answer seemed to satisfy the navigator. "This changeling-what's it like? He or she? How's its shape and form? How would we know it?"
"All I can tell you is that it's a woman," the raider replied. "Wore a dark purple cloak that covered her up good. Sharp, nasty voice. Sounded like my ex-wife. Caught a glimpse of the face-not a bad looker, but you see them arms and the shape of that cloak and you know. Black, nasty arms. Devil hands with claws. I can't tell you no more. I swear it!"
"Oh, I believe that, son," said Master Jahoort, and slit the man's throat with the sword. He turned and walked away as the man still struggled, strangling on his own blood, which was seeping into the ground. . . . "Shoot any survivors in the head!" Jahoort ordered His crew who were looking over the wounded raiders. "I know everything I need to know and I don't like it! Circle for camp! Crew conference in twenty minutes!"
Three shots rang out. Eight of the ten raiders were dead, but they weren't very competent or clever enemies. They had merely been sent by competent and clever enemies. It had been an easy victory overall, and that bothered Jahoort as much as a tough fight.
Of the four men in the ambush compartment atop the water wagon, two had mainly bruises and a few cuts, one had a broken arm and rib, and the other was in worse shape. Boday was doing what she could, but without her full lab she could only set and treat and ease the pain; she couldn't do much in the way of repairs.
"All right, boys, they cut us down to size on this one," the navigator told his men. "I got suckered even though I'm an old pro at this. Somebody banked on even the most experienced pro's weakness for the schedule. They cut us down to size, that's for sure. I got to hand it to that crazy alchemist, though. Without her that bastard would'a disengaged the wagon and crashed it and got away with four good nargas. We couldn't chase him and save the boys up top and he knew it. Smart one. He should'a been leadin'. 'Course, if he had we'd be taken now and all of us'd be dead. Crin, how's the remaining water?"
"Not too bad," Crindil responded. "Everybody filled up like they were told to at the fort. I'd like more but I don't think anybody's gonna die of thirst."
Jahoort nodded. "All right. Whoever sent those ten men with the collective IQ of a narga probably didn't figure they'd take us. They probably just wanted to slow us down. Men like that are cheap, and, who knows, they might'a got lucky. But now we know. We got a changeling with some kind of repeater gun up ahead and I don't figure she's even trusting to that. I'll bet you a thousand sarkis that band that was raidin' in Bi'ihqua was just sittin' there well away from the fort waiting for either Kudaan to come up or somebody like me to bring it up." He looked in back in both directions, ignoring the majestic mountains of the other sector that also blocked any retreat for a short time.
"I figure they'd cross south, maybe thirty, forty leegs or more just to be on the safe side," Jahoort continued. "Cut that fence and come on through. It's fairly flat down there, an easy cross with no surprises but far enough down we couldn't see 'em. We go forward, we got the changeling with the repeater in front and them in back of us. They know we can't stay here 'cause the risk is almost certain somebody's gonna spill things and then the sippiqua'll cause us more problems than they could. From the looks of them mountains somebody involved has got navigator skill and I bet there won't be nothin' useful come up to retreat to before they close on us. I could go in a test of wills but that might take hours and I still might not win. You never know with these changeling types. If they didn't think they could at least hold me they wouldn't have tried this. And without a Pilot we're up shit's creek if we go off this road."
"I don't see where we got a choice," Hude commented. "I been through here myself once before. You go much this way or that without a guide and you'll be in a canyon or chasm or worse. Let's just get on that road and depend on some decent scouting ahead. I'd rather risk that repeater, now that we know it's there, than who knows how many pushin' us in back? Ain't but so many places you can put and hide a repeater, and we know they can't be more than maybe two hours ahead allowing for horse speed rather than wagon speed. Keep on both sides, never bunch, and if anything opens up go like hell!"
It wasn't a very satisfactory plan, but considering the alternatives it was the best available. At least they knew now what they were dealing with, if not the location and exact numbers. The train was formed up yet again, the people were briefed and, if they could handle them, given arms. Then they pulled out.
A little over an hour later they all saw where the ambush had to be. The open desert area was growing wilder and nastier as they went, and in a few miles more the road would descend from the cracked desert with the tendril-like lurking plants and into a canyon formed by a now dry riverbed that, either in the past or on rare occasions now, had lots of rushing water in it. The canyon narrowed around the road in at least two places, either one of which had perches that seemed impossible to reach but, if they could be reached, would be ideal spots for ambushers. For now, though, they were still on the sippiqua flats, a fact that made everyone a bit nervous.
Jahoort stopped the train with the intention of sending men forward on either side with binoculars and rifles, with the hope of spotting the ambush and, if not taking them out, at least making it very hot for whoever sat there. If there was enough of a crossfire from enough rifles and pistols, one bullet at a time or not, then the wagons might be able to haul ass through the narrows before they could be cut down. The road was also very well defined through the area; Jahoort, if he knew the location of the gun, might risk running the thing at night. From the rear of the train came the sudden shout of "Dust behind!" which put an end to such thoughts. The raiders from Bi'ihqua, as the navigator h
ad figured, had closed on the train and were now riding full in to force them forward into the slaughter.
Jahoort quickly rode back to the rear of the train. "How many you make it, Dal?"
"Shit! Must be a dozen at least. Maybe more. Remember, they been hittin' trains in Bi'ihqua and gettin' away with it!" Sam and Boday had jumped down to see what was going on, just like some of the others. The dust cloud approaching told the story, and they knew as well as the crew what had to be ahead.
Boday let loose her whip. "Well, little flower, we die together!" she sighed. "They shall never take you unless it is over the body of Boday! Do not be downcast! It was meant to be! And the heroic death of Boday will awaken the critics who will proclaim her a legend and the greatest artist who ever lived!"
Even Charley was pretty glum right now. "All this for nothin'. Damn! Wish I had a couple of guns right now!"
Sam had just stared at the cloud, not believing that it could really be happening. Not now. Not to her, and Charley, and Boday. Not to those nice kids. . . . She clutched the Jewel of Omak. "Demon, get us the hell out of this!"
You expect miracles or something? asked the demon. I'll save you if I can but you know my limitations.
"Damn it! You forced me into this!" she screamed, suddenly terrified.
Charley sighed behind her. "I sure wish we had one of your damned thunderstorms now," she sighed.
"What?" Sam was hardly even sane anymore as she continued to stare.
"One of your damned thunderstorms. Can't you see what would happen if it rained on them? Especially here?"
My God! Why not? Sam thought crazily. They came every time before!
Distances were deceiving on the flats; the crew was circling and setting up die train for defense methodically, with no sense of hurry.
Sam looked up at the sky. A few wispy, white clouds in a pale blue field, nothing more. Just like back at the cabin long ago. . . .
"Okay!" she screamed up to the heavens, loud and forcefully. "You blood-sucking nightmare storms! You been huntin' me and huntin' me! Well here 1 am! Come and get me!"
The wispy clouds started to move. The fact that they actually did both awed and startled her, and at first she didn't believe it, but they were actually moving! Thickening. Drawing moisture from behind them-from whatever sector of Tubikosa was now along the border maybe ten miles back!
Now there was a near solid wall of clouds in the distance, going from horizon to horizon, a weather front so straight you could have drawn it with a ruler. On their side it was sunny and blue, sucked of any clouds, but at that line it was dark and rumbling. . . .
"Holy shit! You did it!" Charley exclaimed, a little awed herself,
No, not quite ruler straight. Centered perhaps right over the road there was a prominence coming out from the front, forming . . .
A head. A clearly defined picture of a face in the clouds sharp as a cheap photograph and just as solid. A face and a neck going down to the shoulders, with arms out, infinite arms, that were the front itself. . . .
A face she knew.
Charley might have been awed but she was more scared than that and she had a sudden horrible thought. "Sam! Boday! Get in the wagon! Get us the hell off this mesa or we're gonna be sucked up, too!"
Sam just continued to stare and Boday did not understand, so Charley went up and actually shook Sam and repeated her panicked warning.
"Charley-the clouds! There's a face in the clouds!"
"I don't give a fuck if there's God Himself in the clouds! We gotta move and you got to warn the rest!" Charley was nearsighted. She could see the storm as an approaching line of darkness but could not make out even so huge a detail.
Jahoort and the others weren't so oblivious, either. They yelled and screamed and told people to forget anything and just do a firm hitch and get into the canyon and stop. They had to beat that rain.
That Boday heard and understood as well, and she practically yanked Sam away and back into the wagon, which they'd never even gotten into defensive position. Charley needed no persuading-she was back inside quicker than they could get on the seat and jiggle the reins.
Nargas weren't very fast animals even when pushed, and the dip down into the canyon was narrow, really no wider than two wagons' worth if that, and a bit more than a mile away at the start. It was going to be a very near thing for most of them as the front with the strange head came ever on.
Sam peered back nervously. "But it's gonna catch me this time!"
"One damned problem at a time!" Charley yelled, wondering if they would make it? Some of the professional and veteran drivers, sure, and maybe all the ones on horseback, but she was dependent on two citified novices doing all the driving.
But Sam suddenly snapped out of it and took the reins like a pro, getting the nargas into a rhythm and making the best possible time without becoming unbalanced. The demon of the jewel couldn't handle ambushes and small armies, but it sure as hell knew how to drive a wagon.
They drew abreast of a cargo wagon going at top speed and the nargas, seeing the competition, matched pace, but they were mere inches apart. A mistake on the part of either driver or the nargas themselves would bring the two into a side collision at speed.
Then they did bump-once, twice! It was all Sam could do to control the nargas and keep them straight but she managed. Charley was holding on for dear life and looking back out the back flap. She couldn't see any horses or wagons and figured they had to be last, but she sure as hell could see that dark approaching mass. "It's gonna catch us!" she muttered, teeth tightly clenched.
The edge of the rain shield raced after them, darkening the parched desert and causing in its wake a veritable jungle of thin, waving tentacles to rise all across the plain, turning it from a sun-baked nightmare into an instant sea of living, active plants.
And then they were down, down into the canyon, the walls rising up, as rain suddenly overtook and then enveloped them. Sam started to pull up but Charley yelled, "No! Keep going if you can see!"
"But the ambusher!"
"The hell with the bushwacker! If he can see to shoot anything in this shit he deserves to get us!"
This thought had not occurred to everybody, and there was almost a traffic jam at the bottom for a moment. Jahoort and his crew, though, were there, drenched by the rain, screaming at people to keep going. They no longer cared about the bushwacker; this much rain would cause a flash flood of this dry riverbed very quickly, and that narrow ambush spot would be like target zero when the dam burst in a very short time.
Sam needed no urging. Demon-driven, she made her way expertly around those too scared or dense to move and made it full speed for the opening ahead. Already the dry riverbed was starting to fill, and there was almost a waterfall behind them.
Something went smash! ping! inside the wagon but she didn't stop and was soon on the other side and pulling to the side, off the road, where it was higher ground. Still she didn't want to stop, though; others would come through and would need room as well.
The highest point available wasn't very high, particularly with the crush and in die near-blinding rain, so she picked the best spot she could and stopped, then turned around. "Charley? You okay?"
"Yeah. I think so," her friend muttered. "Jesus, Sam! There's a line of fucking bullet holes through the wagon and half our stuff! That's no repeater-that's a damned machine gun!"
"Take the reins, Boday," Sam said, handing it off to the artist, and went back where at least it was nominally dry. There were holes in the canvas top, though, through which rain was coming, and wood was splintered in a neat diagonal line. Charley had taken a small knife and was busily trying to pry one of the spent bullets out. After a while she exposed part of it, enough to see what it was.
"Thirty caliber, copper jacket," she said, shaking her head. "That gun's regular Army issue. With guns and ammo like that it's no wonder those soldiers got mowed down. Without that rain there was no way to keep that sucker from taking out the whole trai
n easy. They got nothing to fight this kind'a stuff." She stopped a moment, thinking. "You know, with enough of these just a few could really hold off a whole damned Akhbreed army. Son of a bitch! I think maybe they really got a chance to pull their revolution off! Imagine a couple of these in the hands of a couple of little Bi'ihquans instead of melons!"
Sam nodded absently. "Charley-there was a face, a head, in the clouds."
"Yeah? So? What's got you so hung up? Never seen faces in clouds before?"
"Charley-it was your face. It was your face in the clouds, bringing on the storm like a cape."
For a moment Charley was taken aback, then she got it. "Uh-uh, Sam. Not my face. Your face. I'm the gal with the big nose and the chubby cheekbones, remember? This is your face, only prettied up a bit and still thin."
Sam shook her head slowly from side to side. "Uh-uh. I always had a boy's face. This face was real feminine-lookin' even though it had short hair. That's how clear it was. And it had somethin' on its head or around it-a headband or crown or tiara or somethin'."
"Sam, there's a lot more that goes into a face than that. It was yours-and, even though I know it sounds crazy, if there was a face in there it should'a been yours. All this time you been running from those storms and you call 'em. You called this one, crazy as it sounds."
"I didn't call those other storms. They were hunting for me." But, dimly, she remembered that last one at the mall, the one that had scared her half to death. She had told it to go away-and it had.
"You gotta think magic around this place," her friend reminded her. "If you can call a storm and make it do tricks, then so can other people. So now we know there can be good and bad storms, right? Sam-this is important! Not just now, 'though Lord knows if you hadn't done it the rest wouldn't make no difference, but in general. Sam-you can do magic. Not Boday's potions, and maybe stronger than your pet demon's tricks."
The storm was letting up; it had almost passed now, with just some light rain and dreary mist on its back side. Suddenly the wagon started to jerk and lurch, and both women moved forward.
When The Changewinds Blow Page 30