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process. Where was this invisible

enemy? Lord Yama-Shita feared the divine Wrath of the kami like all

Iron Masters, but the Heron Pool had not been struck by sky

thunderbolts. This was the handiwork of ruthless men!

It was at this point that the first glimmerings of an answer came. The

observer from the second escort plane which, with its sister craft, had

been attempting an emergency landing when they were destroyed, had not

been killed outright. The wreckage in which he was trapped had hit the

ground at a shallow angle, splintering and tearing apart as it

slithered towards the grandstand.

Although almost every bone in his body was broken, the dying samurai

had somehow found the strength to gasp a few strangled words to the

nearest of those who knelt over him.

His reported sighting of five people dressed in the colours of slaves

lurking near the four remaining flying-horses was rapidly conveyed to

Lord Min-Orota.

He and Yama-Shita shared the sense of shock and bewilderment that

gripped those around them, but while fear might have loosened their

bowels, their brains had not turned to jelly. Both men reached the

same conclusion at almost the same instant. What had happened was the

result of a revolt by the slave-workers at the Heron Pool! It was a

stupendous act of folly for which they, and countless others, would pay

dearly.

Since his own men were, at that moment, falling back

in disarray, he called upon Lord Yama-Shita to dispatch some of his

mounted samurai to investigate. The domain-lord had just passed this

order down the chain of command when a single white-clad figure was

sighted advancing across the field towards them. Neither man could

fathom what this slim solitary figure hoped to achieve, but the slave's

appearance was an intolerable act of defiance that had to be crushed.

Immediately!

Rising to his feet, Yama-Shita aimed his lacquered staff at the

offending slave and screamed an order to his samurai bodyguard. Lord

Min-Orota promptly followed suit. Leaving ten of their number to

shield their masters, both sets of samurai - some sixty in all - left

their positions around the canopied box and ran down on to the field.

Some drew their long-swords, the others pulled arrows from the quivers

on their back. Fitting them to their bows, they began a slow,

deliberate advance upon the intruders.

Yama-Shita sent a second hurried order to the troop of horsemen who

were preparing to move off. They were to ignore this white-clad

individual and proceed along the northern stone-walled edge of the

field before cutting across to the four flying horses.

As he spoke, his brain was chilled by an unearthly cry - the piercing

ululation of a Mute summoner.

Kelso, who had been roped in to help load the trays, almost dropped the

two rockets he was carrying. 'What the fu ?"

'Keep going, keep going!" shouted Steve. He and Cadillac had already

got two rockets fitted in the ring clamps under all four machines. But

two were not enough. He had talked about going on three, but what they

really needed was a full load. They didn't need four planes, but with

their escape now hanging in the balance they had to keep all options

open.

Jodi, who had been crouching by the grass-covered bank to guard against

a sneak attack from the rear, decided to lend a hand. Holstering her

pistol, she ran towards the cart. Halfway across, the ground shuddered

violently, throwing her against one of the wheels. Looking up, she saw

that the tremor had caused several of the rockets to slide partly out

of the racks. She hauled herself up and caught one just before it

toppled to the ground.

Clearwater, her feet now planted firmly astride and with her arms

raised to form the letter X, felt Talisman's power flow into her from

the earth and sky. To those watching in the crowded grandstand, her

body seemed to be surrounded by a shimmering veil of light. With a

swift movement she brought her arms down and her fingertips ogether,