The Iron Breed (7 page)

Old fears closed in about him. Neither he nor Rutee had ever known what had led to the swift departure of the alien ship after their own escape. It could be that the ship had returned to hunt them down. And no weapon which the People had could successfully stand between them and swift capture if the Big Ones willed it. He had heard too many times over Rutee's description of how the aliens had so easily taken the colony which had been her home.

Jony had not yet reached the camp when Trush materialized in that odd way the People could from their shape-hiding coloring of the vegetation. The clansman had his staff, only half-prepared for real action, in his paw-hand. His other hand signed a message Jony was not expecting.

“Little—light fur—gone!”

Geogee, Maba, or both! Jony had been too ready to believe Yaa could control them. He held up two fingers to signify both twins. To that Trush assented with a quick dip of his muzzle in the affirmative gesture of the People.

Jony, breathing hard, plowed to a stop opposite Trush. The first thought which had flashed into his mind was that in some manner the children must have sneaked away to follow him, perhaps become lost in the territory around the ridges. While the People had excellent night sight, his own was far inferior.

“Which way?” he asked in sign language.

With the end of his unfinished staff Trush pointed over Jony's own shoulder, toward the ridge from which the boy had just come. So the twins
had
followed him! But had they gone all the way—into the place of piled stones? Jony thought of the many hiding sites there and also of what else might lurk in the darkness which was fast falling. Remembering Trush's attitude toward the river of stone, Jony feared that the People would be reluctant, might even completely refuse, to help him search there if he must.

Trush, shouldering his staff, moved ahead, his eyes bent down as if he could read plainly some track. Jony, well realizing how inferior his own ability to trail was when compared to that of his companion, fell in behind. He longed to know how long the twins had been gone, but the People never measured time.

Behind Trush's more massive person Jony once more ascended the ridge. When he gained the crest Trush was standing very still indeed.

“Where . . . ?” Jony signed.

That round head turned a little, and the large eyes regarded him unblinkingly. Jony, not for the first time, wished desperately that he could read the mind behind those eyes, know just a little of the other's thoughts. But all he could sense was a strong disturbance, as if Trush were being forced to face some danger much against his will, struggling to find a way out of such an entrapment.

Very slowly the clansman raised his staff, though he half-averted his face as it pointed with its tip straight at the distant stone piles. Trush did not even make a hand gesture to underline his answer.

Jony drew a deep breath. In the fading light the stone piles had an odd repellent look which he had not seen earlier as the sun had brightened them. As if, with the coming of dark, an old evil awoke. Jony closed his mind resolutely against such fancies, centered his questing thoughts rather on what lay at the end of the stone river.

Yes! He touched one mind—that was Geogee somewhere ahead. Jony leaned upon his staff. If only he had not promised Rutee, sworn to her never to mind compel either of the twins, he could bring them out! A little alarmed now, Jony quested farther—where was Maba? Her pattern of thought was usually as clear to him as her face was in his sight, but now he could not locate it at all!

Fear came fully alive. Only unconsciousness could prevent mind-touch. Was Maba hurt—or perhaps even dead?

Jony found himself frantically descending before he realized he had even moved. He did not expect Trush to follow. If the twins were in the stone piles he, himself, must find them and bring them back to safety.

His feet thudded dully on the river of stone, and he carried his staff before him at the ready. Though this afternoon curiosity had drawn him to this place, now he was angry and ashamed. The twins must have seen him go, followed in their usual reckless, unthinking fashion. Who could guess what they might meet within those dens now so shadow filled? His own experience with the stone woman—he had no explanation for that. And there could be other traps, or dangers which were totally foreign to everything they knew.

Jony's rush took him past the first of the dens, those which were smaller. He made himself slow down. This was a time to use questing thought, not to rush blindly about accomplishing nothing in the dusk.

At once he was able to pick up Geogee again. With that touch came fear, naked and sharp—Geogee was afraid. If he, Jony, could not compel, surely he could call the other; use mind-linkage as a guide through this place of unknown dangers.

“Geogee!” He built in his mind as strong a picture of the boy as he could hold. “Geogee, where are you?”

Fear built a barrier. Geogee was so torn by terror he was not thinking in any clear pattern Jony could pick up and analyze. Communication came as distorted jolts like blows, aimed out wildly in every direction.

Jony could not maintain rational contact, but he could use that center of disturbance itself as a guide. This Jony probed grimly, held to what he could discover. The way took him, not back to the vast pile where the stone woman and the sleeper in the rock waited, but down one of the smaller side streams of stone which was much narrower. Here the piles on either side appeared to lean out above him, as if at any moment they might free themselves into individual blocks and crash down to blot him out.

Jony had to conquer his own growing uneasiness in order to hold to that center of mental disturbance which marked Geogee. He drew closer with every stride, at least he was sure of that much. Then—his head turned, as if jerked, to the right. In there!

As all the other holes, the one beside him had no barrier, nor did any stone figure stand there in welcome or dismissal. Within it was quite dark. For the first time Jony raised his voice:

“Geogee!”

The boy's name echoed hollowly, until Jony was almost sorry he had called. However, in answer, something scuttled from an inner section of the pile, threw itself frantically at Jony, head burrowing against him, thin arms in an imprisoning grip about his middle.

Geogee was shaking so much that his sudden onslaught nearly upset Jony in return. Though the older boy still held tightly to his staff, he dropped his other arm about Geogee's shoulders, holding him in a tight answering grasp. When that shivering seemed to lessen a little, Jony spoke again:

“Geogee,” he repeated the name quietly and firmly, hoping to break through that terror which manifestly filled the other, get from him a necessary answer. “Geogee, where is Maba?”

Geogee gave a little cry. Nor would he even look up at Jony. Rather he rubbed his face more strongly against Jony's breast.

Jony held onto his calm as best he could. He must break through, learn what had happened so he could find the girl.

“Where . . . is . . . Maba?” He spoke very slowly and evenly, spacing his words with all the impact he could summon.

Geogee gave a kind of wail, but he did answer. “The wall took her. It swallowed her up!”

FIVE

Whatever had happened, Jony realized, Geogee believed what he had just said was true. But—a wall which swallowed?

Jony himself gulped down his fear as best he could. He wanted nothing so much as to run with Geogee, get free of this place which, taking on the evil memories of the cages in the dusk, was far more alarming than any trap. Only—there was Maba. He could not leave her here. Instead he must get Geogee quieted enough to make better sense.

He caught the braid of the boy's hair in a firm hand, exerting enough pull on it to bring Geogee away from him so he could view the twin's convulsed face in what small light was here. Rutee had made him promise—never use the control.

But Rutee could not have foreseen this situation. Jony must free Geogee from the clutch of his wild terror long enough to discover what had happened. Or else . . . or else Maba might be lost.

Conquering, at least for this moment, his own uneasiness, Jony gazed steadily into the boy's eyes. They were fixed, staring, as if Geogee still watched something so utterly horrifying that he was caught within that moment of horror as a prisoner. Jony used his mind-touch, soothing, trying to break through the fear barrier.

The younger blinked; his mouth twitched. Jony concentrated. He was here—Geogee was not alone—they must find Maba! As he had earlier spoken emphatically, he now fed those thoughts.

Geogee's frantic grip on him was relaxing. Jony knew he was getting through. His own impatience warred with the necessary overlay of calm. While they wasted time here—what could be happening to Maba? He firmly shoved aside such thoughts; at present his task was to learn all Geogee knew.

After a time that seemed to stretch endlessly, Jony made a question of her name: “Maba—?”

Geogee loosed his hold, stood away. His face was now calm. Jony remembered the mind-controlled from the cage days, hated what he saw. But otherwise—he did not really have Geogee under full control, he had only managed to reach beyond the boy's fear as he had had to do.

“Back there,” Geogee gestured to a darker portion of the den and another opening. “We were back there . . .”

Jony wet dry lips with the tip of his tongue. To go into that darkness . . . But it had to be done. He scooped up his staff. At least he could probe shadows with that, not walk straight into disaster unprepared. His sense told him there was no enemy, no living enemy that he could recognize within these stone heaps. Yet from the heaps themselves came a strange awareness, which to him was a warning such as he had never known before.

“Back here.” Geogee was already pattering away into the dark. Jony quickly followed.

They went through two of the open spaces which had wall holes giving a small amount of light. Then Geogee halted in the third, facing what gave every appearance of a completely solid erection of stones. Yet the younger boy advanced toward this as if he saw an opening invisible to Jony.

“Maba—” Geogee reached out his hand. “She put her hand right there.” With that he forced his palm flat on the stone.

There was a dull grating sound. Under Geogee's push not only the block he touched, but those above and below moved. The boy, off-balanced, stumbled forward through the black hole now open. Jony aimed his staff. The stones were swinging back again to seal Geogee in, but they were stopped by the stout length between.

Jony heard Geogee cry out. Then he levered frantically with his shaft. The stones opened again more fully, but he could see their strength had nearly bitten through the wood.

There was no help for it, he must follow into whatever secret the wall concealed.

He groped through, heard the stones crunch behind him. Panic filled him. This was a cage, worse than those of the Big Ones; it was dark and the wall was solid. And . . . He took a single step away from the edge of this new cage. His foot did not meet a surface; there was nothing there!

With a cry Jony fell into that nothingness.

His fall was not far. Only after he landed heavily, he was on a slope down which he continued to slide, though he struck out with his staff trying to find some hold, some way of staying that slip ever downward. So intent was he on such struggles, that it was a moment or two before he realized that he was not moving over a rough stone surface which would have stripped his skin by the friction. Rather under him was soft stuff which gave at the pressure of his exploring fingers and then rose again. It was as if this strange way of traveling had been devised with maximum safeguards against injury.

Down and down, Jony had no way of judging how far this slippery passage reached.

“Geogee!” he shouted, waited for some answer.

Finally that came—thin, faint, and Jony believed far away, a mere thread of sound reaching him. He sent a mind probe instantly.

Geogee was again in a state of fear and confusion, but he was alive, unharmed. If there ever was an end to this worm hole, Jony would catch up with Geogee, and, doubtless, with Maba.

The purpose of such a passage—Jony did not even try to guess at that. Was it a trap set long ago to catch any invading the stone heaps? Did each stone heap have one? If so, what bitter enemies had the people here faced?

The dark was no longer absolute. Ahead, Jony saw a grayish gleam of light. And that cheered him. To be out of suffocating darkness was enough to raise his spirits.

Also, he was not sliding so fast now. The angle of the way under his body was less acute. The light increased, coming from a round opening ahead. Jony began to hope that he had reached the end of this nightmare passage.

He could see better, use the staff as a brake, so that he did not fall through that hole, but crouched at its mouth, to look out warily.

“Jony!” Geogee, his dirty hands smearing at his cheeks where there were the marks of tears, hunkered on the floor of a vast place filled with the gray light. There was no opening to the outer world. In fact, Jony was sure that they were far beneath the ground in some cave. He could not see nor understand where the light came from. But he accepted thankfully that it was there.

Before him was a very short drop to the floor. Jony jumped, then thought-quested. Something . . . He swung away from Geogee, facing out into the wide open of that space. Maba—that way!

He stooped over Geogee, drew him up onto his feet. “Come!” He must find Maba and then a way out. To climb up the passage he had just descended might be impossible. Jony shrugged away such speculation. Let him find Maba, perhaps then further exploration would show them an escape.

“Jony, I want out of here!” There was a shrill note in Geogee's voice.

Jony could have applied the calming influence again, but his concentration was needed to guide him to Maba.

“We'll get out,” he gave assurance which might be a lie, but which must serve him at present as a tool. “But first we find Maba.”