The Iron Breed (25 page)

For that he had no answer. “Do you know where he went?” he asked what might be now a matter of importance. Geogee lurking in the city, hostile. Suppose the boy was hiding out somewhere among these dens, ready to use a stunner without warning? Jony could not guess what so altered Geogee's thinking. But if he would do this to Maba, then indeed perhaps he was mind-controlled by some subtle method the spacemen practiced.

Jony let his mind search free. He could not contact Geogee directly while the other wore that protective helmet, but perhaps he could pick up the boy near by that very blank he touched. Only he met nothing he could so define.

“He is hunting for Volney,” Maba continued. “Jony, I feel so queer . . . what if I never am able to move again? Jony!” Once more her hysteria was rising.

Jony drew her closer. “It will pass,” he assured her. “With me it did.”

Or had that full recovery been because he had taken into his body the strength the stone woman had to give? And—Jony caught at this new idea—could it possibly be that such a strength could be passed in turn from person to person as well as from the stone to him?

He lowered the girl to lie on the pavement in the beginning light of a slowly rising moon.

“Maba, listen to me. I am going to try to break you free. I do not know whether I am able to do this, but I can try.”

“Oh, yes, Jony!” Her voice was so eager that he was disturbed. Perhaps he was doing wrong to give her even a fraction of hope that this would work. Bending closer, he took one of her hands in each of his, held them fast. Then he began to concentrate on sending, not the mind-thrust he had always used, but rather a sensation of returning energy into her body. When there followed a slight tingling of his flesh, he had to stifle quickly his own sense of wonder and triumph, keep his mind occupied only by the need to pass to Maba a portion of that strength he had won from the stone woman.

“Jony—Jony, I can feel!” she cried out. “Oh, Jony, it is true you can make me feel!”

He, in turn, was aware of a feeble flexing of her fingers within his hold. Then her limp arms arose a fraction, her head moved from side to side on the stones as if she must learn for herself that this was again possible.

She was sitting up, though still weak enough to need his support, when Otik joined them. Jony had not even noticed the clansman missing. Now as he stood there, he held not only his staff, but Jony's. He must have gone into the blackness of the den to get that.

“I thought maybe you would never find me,” Maba said, the remains of her sobs still making her voice shaky. “I thought I would just lie there . . . maybe forever!”

“But you did not.” Jony put what he hoped would be a bracing briskness into his voice. “Now, do you have any idea of where Geogee was heading?”

“It was the helmet, you see,” she answered, and then went on to make her explanation clearer. “He believed me at first. I thought I could lead him far enough away from the People so that he could not hurt them. But I didn't know about the helmet, except that you could not mind-control him if he wore it. I didn't know
they
could!”

“How?” Jony's instant distrust of any of the equipment used by those from space gave him a core of belief already.

“There is a way they can talk through the helmets—I didn't know about that, really, Jony. I thought they had to use those boxes they have in the flyer and the ship. But there are talk places in the helmets, too—inside somehow. And Geogee heard Volney calling through his. He knew somehow that the call came from another direction. But he did not tell me at first. We came to the place where the Red Heads were,” she shuddered. “Geogee, he used the stunner. They all went stiff and did not move so we could pass them. But, when we got here, he was all of a sudden very mad. He yelled at me about taking him the wrong way. And he said he'd show me what it meant to tell lies! He—he wasn't like Geogee at all! Those space people made him like them. I got afraid, Jony; he was so strange. So I ran, and then I tried to hide. But he found me and used the stunner. He laughed, Jony, he just stood there and laughed. Then he said he'd find Volney all right; Volney would tell him just how to go. Only first he was going back and get one of those rods. And when he had that—he'd know what to do with it, too . . .”

Jony tensed. Geogee running wild with one of the destructive rods! Supposing he did, by some chance, find the People and their prisoners? He believed now that Geogee was as much under the control of this Volney as those poor creatures of his own species had been when in tire lab of the Big Ones.

“We have to stop him,” Jony said more to himself than to the girl. Nor dared he keep the seriousness of this action from Otik. Still kneeling beside Maba he signed to the clansman what had happened as best he could.

Otik said nothing in return. Rather he turned around, facing the way down which they had come. Once more he was sniffing. Then he made a negative gesture. Whichever way Geogee had gone, he had not doubled back. Now Otik did something that Jony had very seldom witnessed among the People: he went down on all fours, bringing his massive nose close to the pavement about them. Several shambling steps away from the door of the den he stopped short, made a prolonged inspection by smell, and then raised a hand-paw to beckon.

Clearly Otik had found the trail. But, though Jony knew that they must follow, he did not want to take Maba. She had recovered in part, but that she could keep up, he greatly doubted. Yet he could not leave her here alone in the dark either.

As he hesitated, Otik moved back. His head went down to sniff at Maba. Then, without wasting time on explanations, he stooped ponderously and picked up the girl, setting her on his shoulders, one thin brown leg on either side of his short neck. In this manner the People carried small cubs on a long trail, and Otik moved as if Maba's weight were nothing.

The problem of her transportation was only part of it. If Geogee was waiting in some ambush . . . But perhaps Otik could give warning of such danger also, and they really had no choice. Once more Jony took up his fang staff; Otik already held his. Letting the clansman take the lead, they moved on between the dens.

Jony went uneasily, glancing from one side to the other, trying to see farther into shadowed holes. He feared Geogee, yes. But also, by night, this place of stone had an uncanny kind of life which was beyond his powers to explain. It was as if, just beyond the fringe of his natural range of vision, things moved, so that he was aware of a vague fluttering he could not really see. In addition there was a dampening of spirit; not fear, as Jony had known it so often in this place of many surprises, but rather as if the inner core of his spirit was weighted down with a vast burden he could not understand.

He wanted nothing more than to flee from the sight of all these dens, get out into the open land which meant freedom. Yet he must follow Otik who now turned left into an even narrower slit running between high walls. They were heading back in the direction of the central building again, for Otik had made a second turn, moving with the certainty of one following a well-marked, open trail.

Before them reared a wall taller than the others, and in it an opening, through which the clansman padded confidently. Here the moonlight was brighter. Jony saw in detail the bulk of the structure ahead. Yes, he was certain now that they had come around, back to the place of storage. At least they were approaching the place from a different direction than that treacherous path of vegetation where the Red Heads rooted.

Otik did not lead them to one of the large ground-based openings, but to a smaller one up in the wall. He halted there, his muzzle just topping the lower edge of it, and sniffed. Jony needed no gesture to understand that this had been Geogee's entrance.

It was easy for Jony to clamber through it and gather Maba as Otik handed her in. But the clansman found entrance more difficult. His thick body was never intended for climbing, and the hole itself was a tight wedge. However, Otik made it.

The darkness within, away from that hole, was almost as thick as that in the den where Jony had found Maba. Now the three linked hands, Maba's in Jony's; his fingers grasped in Otik's strong hold. It was plain that the clansman's night sight would still be their guide.

All Jony could make out were shadows, with here and there one of the tall pillars looming up near them. Maba had uttered no sound since their journey had started. He was glad that she seemed able to make her way on foot here without weakening.

They came to the door they sought by a different angle so that Jony at first did not quite recognize the opening. Then he knew this was the one through which his own party of clansmen had invaded the city. Otik paused there, sniffing deeply. He even took a step or two toward the front of the large space as if to verify his discoveries. Then he resolutely returned to the entrance.

The way was too dark to see any tracks. Otik himself was only a black bulk in this deep dusk. Now the clansman caught Jony's hand again, drawing him toward the opening. If Otik were certain that Geogee did have some way of following Volney . . .

They were almost within the long-walled run when Jony heard a dread sound even through the stones of the great den. The buzz of the flyer! Faint—but growing stronger. Volney had been able to guide Geogee. Was he also in communication with those coming to his rescue? And with the air speed of the flyer . . .

Otik had been listening too. Now he grunted, jerked at Jony's hand. Apparently the need for speed had also impressed him.

They went on at this swift pace, the best the clansman could produce in times of great necessity. Jony feared that Maba could not keep up; but she continued to trot along beside him with the ease she had shown when they had traveled across country, before the evil of the stone place and the sky ship had broken into their safe lives.

Down the passage they went, coming out into the open land among the ridges. Jony believed that he knew their destination now: the place of the cage above in the heights. At least Otik kept on to the northeast. That Geogee must still be ahead, he was not certain. And what of the rest of the clansmen who had retreated with their prisoners?

Jony's throat was dry; he was vaguely aware once more of both hunger and thirst. And what of Maba? She still made no complaint, but she did stumble frequently, and finally fell. Jony dropped back beside her. Then Otik, grunting something in his own tongue, once more scooped her up.

From time to time Jony sent out a questing probe. He had not yet picked up that deadness which he thought might identify Geogee. Instead he touched on an awareness which heralded one of the clansmen. That brief contact heartened him for a second spurt of effort.

The path they followed was so confused, winding from one ridge valley to the next, that Jony worried from time to time if Otik himself knew where they were bound. Yet the clansman never hesitated, turning right or left with the authority of one following a well-marked trail.

Now—yes! In the moonlight Jony saw the ledges rising. This he knew—the way to the cage place. And, at the top of that climb, hunched in the moonlight like a craggy rock, was Voak. Otik set Maba on her feet at the foot of the ascent. He took not only his staff, but Jony's, and began to drum with their butts. Jony threw his arm around Maba's shoulders, aiding her as they climbed.

At the crest Voak stood in the bright moonlight. He made no gesture of welcome; neither did he bar their way, but only turned and walked ahead, his own staff raised to thump in unison with Otik's two. They had slowed their pace to walk with a ponderous dignity. Then Voak raised his deep voice, echoed by the younger clansman.

“Jony—” Maba began.

He tightened his hold on her. “Hush!” he gave a single whispered warning.

Once more he felt that tingling. Only this time it was heightened, striking him as a series of small shocks. He refused to allow himself to think of what that power might do, this must be followed to the end.

The red-lighted cave opened before them. There was the cage. Only this time it held not bones, but living bodies. Here were the two spacemen and Geogee, who crouched near one. The boy's helmet was gone and he looked as if he had been rolled in mud and dust. But as far as Jony could see he was unharmed.

If the clansmen had imprisoned their captives, they had not yet collared them. But their off-world weapons and helmets were laid out in a row on the floor just beyond the bars of their prison. Stunners—and one of the red rods! Jony's fingers curled. He wanted nothing more than to seize upon that, hurl the thing so far away no one could chance on it again.

“You—Jony!” It was the spaceman who had been Geogee's companion. He advanced to the front of the cage, caught the bars with his hands.

Jony dropped Maba's hand. He paid no attention to the hail from the off-worlder. Instead he concentrated on Geogee. He read his thoughts, his memory; he reached as far as he could into the other's head.

Each new discovery he sorted out, filed to incorporate in his own store of knowledge. But what had happened to Geogee? He was—alien! Not mind-controlled as Jony had known that state before, with the boy's personality erased either temporarily or entirely, so that he knew only such thoughts as his captors wished. No, Geogee's mind was as alive as it had ever been; it was simply that he had somehow accepted an entirely different way of thought.

Geogee now held hot resentment against the clansmen. They had trapped him in a net, spoiled his chance to rescue the man beside him, to prove himself worthy of Volney's interest.

Worthy! Jony knew bitterness at that. He could read all Geogee's thoughts concerning himself. And now began to examine his own feelings in relation to the boy. Because Geogee and Maba were Rutee's, he had given them all the protection and care he could. But he never had felt toward them as he had toward Rutee, that he was a part of them, and that they were, in a way, a part of him. No, perhaps he felt revulsion because they had been born to Rutee by will of the Big Ones, the children of a mind-controlled who had taken Rutee by force. Deep down Jony hated the act which had brought them into the world. Only the promises to Rutee and his own control of his emotions had given him a friendly surface relationship with the twins.