Space Stories: The Complete Fiction by Various

Space Stories: The Complete Fiction by Various

Author:Various [Various]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Jerry eBooks
Published: 2021-12-29T21:00:00+00:00


XIII

ONE of the moons had set, and the shadows were deeper in the distant gorge. The breeze had quieted, and the night was warm and very still. Simon held up his hand.

“Listen,” he said.

They listened, and in the stillness Comyn heard the sound of many voices, sweet and far off among the dark feet of the mountains, calling, answering, drawing together from the groves and the forests and the moon-washed plains.

“They’re gathering,” Simon said. “Ask him what it means.”

The sweet unhuman voices called, and now from a point about the mouth of the gorge more and more of them began to join together, and a cold quiver shot down Comyn’s spine. He had heard that before, that double note that died away in a minor wailing.

Vickrey’s face was a mask of anguished longing, lifted up in the moonlight. He said, “They are taking Strang to his burial.”

He tried desperately to break away, but he was between Peter and Simon, and they held him.

“Where?” said Peter. “To the place of the Transuranae?” Deep in the shadowed throat of the gorge the pale white fire showed brighter now, bright enough to be seen and recognized as something separate from the moonlight, and the voices were slowly moving toward it.

Vickrey said, “You’ve killed once—you’ll kill again. You’ll take the others prisoner as you took me—let me go!” He fought and strained like a mad thing, and they held him, and others came to help. And Vickrey’s voice rose in a shrill wild cry. Comyn moved away to one side.

Simon said disgustedly, “He’s no good to us. Lock him up until he comes to his senses. Anyway, we don’t dare go now, while the whole lot of them are there. They’ll want to make us pay for Strang, and there’s too many of them.”

The sentinels had been called in from the grove. Fisher stood looking uneasily from the mountains to the turmoil around Vickrey. Comyn walked up behind him, making no sound on the grass. He hit Fisher on the side of the jaw and took the rifle out of his hand as he went down. The stud was pushed up to full power. Comyn eased it back, and then he turned to the group of men who were struggling with Vickrey.

“All right,” he said. “Let him go.” They didn’t let him go, not at once. It was a minute before they understood what they had to. Vickrey was on his knees, and Simon had hold of him. Peter Cochrane straightened up.

“Are you crazy, Comyn?”

“Maybe.” Someone went for the rifle he had dropped in the scuffle, and Comyn pressed the firing stud. There was a sharp flash and the man went down. After that nobody made trouble. Getting knocked cold might not be fatal, but it was no fun. Simon still held onto Vickrey. He was so close to him that Comyn couldn’t knock him out without hitting Vickrey too. His jaw was stubborn and his eyes were mean.

Comyn said, “Let him go.”

Peter came forward a step or two.



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