The Valley of Creation

'You'd go back on the bargain that you made with me?' Shan Kar demanded.

'I made no bargain,' Nelson reminded him swiftly. 'I told you in Yen Shi that I would make no bargains in the dark. And you kept us in the dark, Shan Kar.

'You kept us in ignorance of what the Brotherhood you want to shatter is really like, of what you're really trying to do here. Now you're going to help Sloan bring fire and death to this valley. I tell you straight, from here on I'm against you!'

Sloan laughed harshly. 'You're forgetting something, Nelson. You're forgetting that we're your only chance of getting your body back! You can't do a thing but string along with us.'

'I can go back to Vruun,' Nelson told him.

'Go back and tell them that Barin's dead?' jeered the other. 'You'd not only be a wolf then, you'd be a dead wolf.'

'I'd rather be that than an accomplice in what you plan to do!' flashed Nelson.

Sloan's eyes narrowed. 'If that's so, I might as well make you a dead wolf right here and save you the trip.'

His gun started to flash out. But Li Kin's voice stopped him. Out of the corner of his eye Nelson saw that Li Kin had already drawn his gun and that it was as steady as a rock in his hand.

'Drop it, Sloan,' he said.

Sloan dropped it.

Piet Van Voss sat perfectly still behind the table, his hands out of sight. His face appeared stupid with surprise.

'What is this?' Sloan demanded. 'More mutiny in the ranks?'

Li Kin said, 'I'm with Nelson.'

Sloan's hard brown face cracked, in a derisive smile. 'That's fine,' he said. 'I hope you're more use to him —'

Van Voss fired from under the table. The shot thundered and rang from the high glassy walls in ricocheting echoes.

Li Kin dropped his weapon, put both hands over his stomach and sat down with an expression of surprise on his face. Then he slumped forward. Sloan's voice went calmly on, after that pause.

'— than you were to me,' he finished. Then, jerking around, he yelled, 'Watch him, Piet!'

Nelson was already in mid-leap, his wolf-body going like an arrow for the Dutchman's throat.

His teeth met in the flesh of the man's forearm, flung up to ward him off. They fell to the floor in a crashing tangle. Sloan stooped swiftly to pick up his gun.

Suddenly, from nowhere, Tark came like a leaping shadow. His charge knocked Sloan rolling. Shan Kar turned and ran from the room.

Above the yells and the curses and the worrying, growling sounds Nelson caught Tark's mental cry.

'There is no time now, outlander! Others come and Shan Kar is raising the alarm. The palace is a trap!'

He turned and raced for the door with Nelson after him. Behind them, Sloan and Van Voss, bleeding and half-stunned, were able to muster only one wild shot before the two darting wolf-shapes had vanished down the long dark corridor.

Tark's mind sent out a rallying cry. 'Hatha! Ei! We are discovered!'

They tore onward through the labyrinth of corridors, shoulder to shoulder. As they ran Nelson sent a swift thought.

'You saved my life. How—?'

'I did not trust you completely, outlander,' Tark answered. 'I crept close to the Council Hall and listened to your thoughts.'

He checked suddenly. 'They come. The way is blocked.'

They had reached the head of the great entrance hall, a broad, high-arched, gloomy immensity, lighted by torches set along its glassy walls. Through the wide open doors at its far end Nelson could see the dark trees of the forest avenue outside.

Out there was safety and escape. But they were barred from it. The broad open doorway was full of torch- flames and running men as hastily summoned Humanite warriors came pouring into the hall.

There was no other way out and no turning back. For they could hear Sloan and Van Voss coming fast behind them.

Tark eyed the Humanites and their naked swords and uttered a curt, sharp thought.

'Rush them!'

He shot off down the hall like a streak of gray lightning, with Nelson beside him.

Chapter XIV RETURN TO DOOM

For Nelson, it was a strange, weird battle. More so even than his fight with Tark, because this time he was fighting men. There was something beautiful about it. To sweep in under the flash of a falling blade, leap and slash and twist away, then dodge and leap again. He had not realized that men were so slow and weak, their flesh so soft to tear, so naked. He felt contempt for them.

A savage joy in his own wolf-strength swept over him. He hurled himself high in the air, right over the striking sword that would have split him open, saw terror widen in the swordsman's eyes, heard him cry out. Then he felt his own jaws snap and crunch an arm, heard the yell of pain and the clatter of the sword falling to the floor.

But it was no use. Men might be soft and slow, but there were many of them. More came running into the doorway as word went forth that the wolves of Vruun were trapped. And their swords could bite, deep and deadly as fangs.

Nelson and Tark recoiled, panting, and for all their swiftness they had not come off unmarked. Ears flattened, bellies down, they crouched for one brief moment as doom closed in on them. For behind them, Sloan and Van Voss had entered the big hall. Their guns were ready, but they could not fire yet for fear of killing the Humanites.

Nelson licked his own blood off his lips, and said, 'I go.'

Tark's answer came. 'I, too. Farewell, outlander.'

The two lean gray shapes gathered themselves for what they knew would be their last charge against that wall of swords.

Then, above the clamor, Nelson heard from outside the high shrill screams of Hatha's Clan rise like trumpets on the night and the rolling drumbeats of their hoofs.

Hatha had freed his imprisoned mates and his thought-cry rang out to the fighting wolves— 'We come, brothers!'

And they came. Out of the darkness, through the wide door that long ago had been made for the clans to enter, into the big hall itself they came, their hoofbeats ringing on the glassy floor. They shook the torchlight from their gleaming hides and squealed and reared like giants under the high-arched roof as they trampled the Humanites down.

Hatha led them — a demon, a shape of darkness, a living hate. He stood on his hind legs and screamed, the terrible ripping cry of his kind. Nelson saw him, towering high, teeth bared and mane flying, the great muscles of his breast flecked with foam, his eyes flaming and his fore-hoofs striking out like slim instruments of death.

'It is our vengeance, gray brothers! Let be!'

Vengeance of the captive, of the slave. Nelson could see on their backs the marks of lash and club and on the necks the scars of the rope. They were fouled with stable dirt and dust and crusted blood, these who had bathed in mountain streams and combed their manes with the wind. And they were bitter for their vengeance.

The wolves were forgotten. They ran between the staggering legs of men, under the bellies of the horses and on outside, lest they themselves be trampled. They crouched out there in the shadows, watching.

The big hall was full of sounds of hoofs and running men and death. Nelson saw swords flash red in the torchlight, saw breastplates crumple and helmets battered in.

Sloan was shouting for the Humanites to scatter so that he and Van Voss could use their guns but there was