The Rider’s tendrils lifted the colored cloth that lay on its hull. “Pull this over you.” It waggled a tendril at the rest of Amdi. “All of you.”
The two on the ground were crouched behind the creature’s front wheels. “Too hot, too hot,” came Amdi’s voice. But the two jumped up and buried themselves under the peculiar tarpaulin.
“Cover yourself, all the way!” Jefri felt the Rider pulling the cover over them. The cart was already rolling back, toward the flames. Pain burned through every gap in the tarp. The boy reached frantically, first with one hand and then the other, trying to get the cloth over his legs. Their course was a wild bouncing ride, and Jefri could barely keep hold. Around him he felt Amdi straining with his free jaws to keep the tarpaulin in place. The sound of fire was a roaring beast, and the tarp itself was searing hot against his skin. Every new jolt bounced him up from the hull, threatening to break his grip. For a time, panic obliterated thought. It was not till much later that he remembered the tiny sounds that came from the voder plate, and understood what those sounds must mean.
Pham ran toward the new flames. Agony. He raised his arms across his face and felt the skin on his hands blistering. He backed away.
“This way, this way!” Pilgrim’s voice came from behind him, guiding him out. He ran back, stumbling. The pack was in a shallow gully. It had shifted its shields around to face the new stretch of fire. Two of the pack moved out of his way as he dived behind them.
Both Johanna and the pack were slapping at his head.
“Your hair’s on fire!” the girl shouted. In seconds they had the fire out. The Pilgrim looked a bit singed, too. Its shoulder pouches were tucked safely shut; for the first time, no inquisitive puppy eyes peeked out.
“I still can’t see anything, Pham.” It was Ravna from high above. “What’s going on?”
Quick glance behind him. “We’re okay,” he gasped. “Woodcarver’s packs are tearing up Steel’s. But Blueshell—” He peered between in the shields. It was like looking into a kiln. Right by the castle wall there might be a breathing space. A slim hope, but—'Something is moving in there.” Pilgrim had tucked one head briefly around the shield. He withdrew it now, licking his nose from both sides.
Pham looked again through the crack. The fire had internal shadows, places of not-so-bright that wavered… moved? “I see it too.” He felt Johanna stick her head close to his, peering frantically. “It’s Blueshell, Rav… By the Fleet.” This last said too softly to carry over the fire sound. There was no sign of Jefri Olsndot, but—'Blueshell is rolling through the middle of the fire, Rav.”
The skrode wheeled out of the deeper oil. Slowly, steadily making its way. And now Pham could see fire within fire, Blueshell’s trunk flaring in rivulets of flame. His fronds were no longer gathered into himself. They extended, writhing with their own fire. “He’s still coming, driving straight out.”
The skrode cleared the wall of fire, rolled with jerky abandon down the slope. Blueshell didn’t turn toward them, but just before he reached the landing boat, all six wheels grated to a fast stop.
Pham stood and raced back toward the Skroderider. Pilgrim was already unlimbering his shields and turning to follow him. Johanna Olsndot stood for a second, sad and slight and alone, her gaze stuck hopelessly on the fire and smoke on the castle side. One of the Pilgrim grabbed her sleeve, drawing her back from the fire.
Pham was at the Rider now. He stared silently for a second. “… Blueshell’s dead, Rav, no way you could doubt if you could see.” The fronds were burnt away, leaving stubs along the stalk. The stalk itself had burst.
Ravna’s voice in his ear was shuddery. “He drove through that even while he was burning?”
“Can’t be. He must have been dead after the first few meters. This must all have been on autopilot.” Pham tried to forget the agonized reaching of fronds he had seen back in the fire. He blanked out for a moment, staring at the fire-split flesh.
The skrode itself radiated heat. Pilgrim sniffed around it, shying away abruptly when a nose came too close. Abruptly he reached out a steel-tined paw and pulled hard on the scarf that covered the hull.
Johanna screamed and rushed forward. The forms beneath the scarf were unmoving, but unburned. She grabbed her brother by the shoulders, pulling him to the ground. Pham knelt beside her. Is the kid breathing? He was distantly aware of Ravna shouting in his ear, and Pilgrim plucking tiny dogthings off the metal.
Seconds later the boy started coughing. His arms windmilled against his sister. “Amdi, Amdi!” His eyes opened, widened. “Sis!” And then again. “Amdi?”
“I don’t know,” said the Pilgrim, standing close to the seven—no, eight—grease-covered forms. “There are some mind sounds but not coherent.” He nosed at three of puppies, doing something that might have been rescue breathing.
After a moment the little boy began crying, a sound lost in the fire sounds. He crawled across to the puppies, his face right next to one of Pilgrim’s. Johanna was right behind him, holding his shoulders, looking first to Pilgrim and then at the still creatures.
Pham came to his knees and looked back at the castle. The fire was a little lower now. He stared a long time at the blackened stump that had been Blueshell. Wondering and remembering. Wondering if all the suspicion had been for naught. Wondering what mix of courage and autopilot had been behind the rescue.
Remembering all the months he had spent with Blueshell, the liking and then the hate—Oh, Blueshell, my friend.
The fires slowly ebbed. Pham paced the edge of receding heat. He felt the godshatter coming finally back upon him. For once he welcomed it, welcomed the drive and the mania, the blunting of irrelevant feeling. He looked at Pilgrim and Johanna and Jefri and the recovering puppy pack. It was all a meaningless diversion. No, not quite meaningless: It had had an effect, of slowing down progress on what was deadly important.
He glanced upwards. There were gaps in the sooty clouds, places where he could see the reddish haze of high-level ash and occasional splotches of blue. The castle’s ramparts appeared abandoned, and the battle around the walls had died. “What news?” he said impatiently at the sky.
Ravna: “I still can’t see much around you, Pham. Large numbers of Tines are retreating northwards. Looks like a fast, coordinated retreat. Nothing like the ‘fight-to-the-last’ that we were seeing before. There are no fires within the castle—or evidence of remaining packs either.”
Decision. Pham turned back to the others. He struggled to turn sharp commands into reasonable-sounding requests. “Pilgrim! Pilgrim! I need Woodcarver’s help. We have to get inside the castle.”
Pilgrim didn’t need any special persuasion, though he was full of questions. “You’re going to fly over the walls?” he asked as he bounded toward him.
Pham was already jogging toward the boat. He boosted Pilgrim aboard, then clambered up. No, he wasn’t going to try to fly the damn thing. “No, just use the loudspeaker to get your boss to find a way in.”
Seconds later, packtalk was echoing across the hillside. Just minutes more. Just minutes more and I will be facing the Countermeasure. And though he had no conscious notion what might come of that, he felt the godshatter bubbling up for one final takeover, one final effort to do Old One’s will. “Where is the Blighter fleet, Rav?”
Her answer came back immediately. She had watched the battle below, and the hammer coming down from above. “Forty-eight light-years out.” Mumbled conversation off-mike. “They’ve speeded up a little. They’ll be in- system in four-six hours… I’m sorry, Pham.”
Crypto: 0
As received by: OOB shipboard ad hoc
Language path: Triskweline, SjK units
Apparently From: Sandor Arbitration Intelligence [Not the usual originator, but verified by intermediate sites. Originator may be a branch office or a back-up site.]
Subject: Our final message?
Distribution:
Threat of the Blight, War Trackers Interest Group, Where Are They Now, Extinctions Log
Date: 72.78 days since the Fall of Sjandra Kei
Key phrases: vast new attack, the Fall of Sandor Arbitration
Text of message:
As best we can tell, all our High Beyond sites have been absorbed by the Blight. If you can, please ignore all messages from those sites.
