第37节
than thirty yards at best - had opened up between the She-Kargo and
their pursuers. It was this approaching gap that Dark-Star's
colleagues - Silent-Running and Condition-Red- proceeded to exploit,
each raising a power vortex that sucked stones and sand into the air
then hurled them at murderous speed towards the advancing D'Troit.
Once again the front ranks wilted and fell back under the onslaught,
but as before it only caused a temporary delay. Those behind continued
to leap over the prostrate bodies of their comrades, some falling in
their turn, others circling round the lake-side of the sand-bar, under
cover of the central ridge.
The power given to summoners did not pour endlessly like water from a
tap. It came in finite bursts, and like a battery that needed to be
recharged after use, it quickly ran out if constant calls were made
upon it. That was the third drawback to being a summoner.
The howling sandstorms .faltered then died. Sand and stones rained
vertically out of the sky and seconds later the water around Dark-Star
became ominously still.
Totally exhausted, he staggered in the waist-deep water then pitched
forward, face down. Two crossbow bolts struck the upper half of his
body as he sank beneath the surface. Silent-Running and Condition-Red
went down unresisting under a flurry of knife-thrusts. Rolling-Stone
and Mack-Truck threw aside their empty cross-bows and met death knife
in hand and a cry on their lips.
'Drink, Sweet Mother!" They had been doomed from the start but their
defiant stand had gained a few vital minutes of respite which allowed
the tail end of the retreating column to get across the channel onto
the upper sand-bar without further losses.
But the chase was far from over. The She-Kargo and their allies had
another seven miles to run before reaching the safety of the northern
shore, followed by a steep, six-hundred foot climb up the face of the
bluff to where Mr Snow now stood, guarded by a phalanx of M'Call Bears
and ten of the She-Kargo's most powerful summoners.
It was not his life he cared about. Mr Snow was aware he might not
survive the battle. The warriors and summoners were there to protect
his magic.
Only he had the potential to redress the balance; to counter the
combined strength of Mute and Iron Master ranged against them. He had
made a spectacular stand against the The Lady from Louisiana but his
prodigious efforts on that occasion were dwarfed by the scale of the
task that now confronted him. He was not even sure he could deliver
what he had promised the delegates to the midnight war council.
Immense powers lay hidden in the earth and sky, but the gift that
enabled him to summon them was given to him by Talisman - and it was
exercised with his blessing to do his Will. Would he allow his power
to be used to tear the Plainfolk asunder? Mr Snow, who had spent
virtually every moment since his arrival trying to plan for every
eventuality finally gave up worrying and turned his red-rimmed eyes to
the sky.
We offer our spirits into your care, Sweet Mother. Let his Will be
done...
From his present vantage point, Mr Snow had a bird's eye view of the
evolving struggle and he could zoom in close on the action with the aid
of the compact but powerful viewing device found on Brickman after he
had been shot down during the Battle of the Now and Then River.
To the left he could see the long sand-bar with the mass of She-Kargo
and M'Waukee Mutes moving along it from the far end. He could also see
the wheel-boat closing in on their right flank. Beyond the channel,
the first waves of the D'Troit were entering the water.
Immediately below him, defending the northern end of the sand-bar and
the steep slope the last of the baggage train and the exhausted runners
had yet to climb were several thousand reinforcements summoned from
nearby She-Kargo and M'Waukee clans. Arriving in batches all through
the night, some had been running Mute-fashion for twelve hours
non-stop. These breathless latecomers asked for and were given no
respite. They acknowledged the shouted greetings and directions of