Battlefield Earth Part 2

The steps were covered by skeletons tumbled every which way. Skeletons in strips of clothing- clothing like he had never seen.

Bits of metal, some bright, had fallen among the bones.

He ran away again, but this time not as far as the pony. He had suddenly realized he would need proof.

Bracing his nerve to a pitch he had seldom before achieved, he went back and gingerly stepped inside and picked up one of the bits of metal. It had a pretty design, a bird with flying wings holding arrows in its claws, quite bright.

His heart almost stopped when the skull he had removed it from tipped sideways and went to powder before his very gaze, as though it reproached him with its gaping eyes for his robbery and then expired.

The pony had been in a white-coat lather when he pulled up in the village.

For two whole days he said nothing, wondering how best to ask his questions. Previous experience in asking questions had made him cautious.

Mayor Duncan was still alive at that time. Jonnie had sat quietly beside him until the big man was properly stuffed with venison and was quiet except for a few belches.

"That big tomb," Jonnie had said abruptly.

"What big what?" Mayor Duncan had snorted.

"The place up the dark canyon where they used to put the dead people." "What place?"

Jonnie had taken out the bright bird badge and shown it to Mayor Duncan.

Duncan had looked at it, twisting his head this way and that, twisting the badge this way and that.

Parson Staffor, brighter in those days, had reached across the fire in a sudden swoop and grabbed the badge.

The ensuing interrogation had not been pleasant: about young boys who went to places that were forbidden and got everybody in trouble and didn't listen at conferences where they had to learn legends and were too smart anyway.

Mayor Duncan, however, had himself been curious and finally pinned Parson Staffor into recounting an applicable legend.

"A tomb of the old G.o.ds," the parson had finally said. "n.o.body has been there in living memory- small boys do not count. But it was said to exist by my great-grandfather when he was still alive- and he lived a long time. The G.o.ds used to come into these mountains and they buried the great men in huge caverns. When the lightning flashed on Highpeak, it was because the G.o.ds had come to bury a great man from over the water.

"Once there were thousands and thousands living in big villages a hundred times the size of this one. These villages were to the east, and it is said there is the remains of one straight east where thousands lived. And the place was flat except for some hills. And when a great man died there the G.o.ds brought him to the tomb of the G.o.ds."

Parson Staffor had shaken the badge. "This was placed on the foreheads of the great when they were laid to rest in the great tomb of the G.o.ds. And that's what it is, and ancient law says that n.o.body is supposed to go there and everybody had better stay away from there forever- especially little boys." And he had put the badge in his pouch, and that was the last Jonnie ever saw of it. After all, Staffor was a holy man and in charge of holy things.

Nevertheless, Jonnie thought his father should have been buried in the tomb of the G.o.ds. Jonnie had never been back there again and thought of it only when he saw lightning hit Highpeak.

But he wished he had buried his father there.

"Are you worried?" asked Chrissie. Jonnie looked down at her, his reverie broken. The dying fire wove a reddish sheen into her hair and sparked in her dark eyes.

"It's my fault," said Jonnie.

Chrissie smiled and shook her head. Nothing could be Jonnie's fault.

"Yes, it is," said Jonnie. "There's something wrong with this place. My father's bones...in the last year they just crumbled like that skeleton's in the tomb of the G.o.ds."

"The tomb of the what?" said Chrissie idly. If Jonnie wanted to talk nonsense it was all right with her. At least he was talking to her.

"I should have buried him there. He was a great man. He taught me a lot of things- how to braid gra.s.s-rope, how to wait for a puma to crouch before you stepped aside and hit him as he sprang: they can't turn in mid-air, you know. How to cut hide into strips..."

"Jonnie, you aren't guilty of anything."

"It was a bad funeral."

"Jonnie, it's the only funeral I remember."

"No, it was not a good funeral. Staffor didn't preach a funeral sermon."

"He talked. I didn't listen because I was helping gather strawberries, but I know he talked. Did he say something bad?"

"No, only it didn't apply."

"Well, what did he say, Jonnie?"

"Oh, you know, all that stuff about G.o.d being angry with the people. Everybody knows that legend. I can quote it myself."

"Quote it."

Jonnie sniffed a little impatiently. But she was interested and it made him feel a little better.

"And then there came a day when G.o.d was wroth. And wearied he was of the fornicating and pleasure dallying of the people. And he did cause a wondrous cloud to come and everywhere it struck; the anger of G.o.d snuffed out the breath and breathing of ninety-nine out of a hundred men. And disaster lay upon the land and plagues and epidemics rolled and smote the unholy, and when it was done the wicked were gone and only the holy and righteous, the true children of the lord, remained upon the stark and bloodied field. But G.o.d even then was not sure and so he tested them. He sent monsters upon them to drive them to the hills and secret places, and lo the monsters hunted them and made them less and less until at last all men remaining were the only holy, the only blessed, the only sure righteous upon Earth. Hey man!'

"Oh, that one. You say it very nicely, Jonnie."

"It's my fault," said Jonnie morosely. "I should have made my father listen. There is something wrong with this place. I am certain that if he had listened and we moved elsewhere, he would be alive today. I feel it!" "Where else is there?"

"There's that whole great plain out there. Weeks of riding on it, I am sure. And they say man once lived in a big village out there."

"Oh, no, Jonnie. The monsters." "I've never seen a monster."

"You've seen the shiny flashing things that sail overhead every few days."

"Oh, those. The sun and moon sail overhead too. So do the stars. And even shooting stars."

Chrissie was frightened suddenly. "Jonnie, you're not going to do something?"

"I am. With first light I am going to ride out and see if there really was a big village in the plains."

Chrissie felt her heart contract. She looked up at his determined profile. It was as though she was sinking down, down into the earth, as though she lay in today's grave.

"Please, Jonnie." "No, I'm going." "Jonnie, I'll go with you."

"No, you stay here." He thought fast, something to deter her. "I may be gone for a whole year."

Water got into her sight. "What will I do if you don't come back?"

"I'll come back."

"Jonnie, if you don't come back in a year, I'll come looking for you." Jonnie frowned. He scented blackmail.

"Jonnie, if you're leaving, you see those stars up there? When they come back to the same place next year and you haven't returned, I will come looking."

"You'd be killed out in the plains. The pigs, the wild cattle..."

"Jonnie, that is what I will do. I swear it, Jonnie."

"You think I'd just wander off and never return?"

"That's what I will do, Jonnie. You can go. But that's what I will do."

Chapter 5.

The first dawn light was painting Highpeak rose. It was going to be a beautiful day.

Jonnie Goodboy was completing the packing of a lead horse. Windsplitter was sidling about, biting at the gra.s.s but not really eating. He had his eye on Jonnie. They were obviously going somewhere, and Windsplitter was not going to be left out.

Some wisps of smoke were coming from the breakfast fire of the Jimson family nearby. They were roasting a dog. Yesterday at the funeral feast nearly a score of dogs had gotten into an idiot fight. There had been plenty of bones and meat as well. But the pack had gotten into a fight and a big brindle had been killed. Looked like the Jimson family would have meat all day.

Jonnie was trying to keep his mind on petty details. And off Chrissie and Pattie, who were standing there watching him quietly.

Brown Limper Staffor was also there, idling about in the background. He had a clubfoot and should have been killed at birth, but he was the only child the Staffors had ever had, and Staffor was parson after all. Maybe mayor, too, since there wasn't any now.

There was no affection whatever between Jonnie and Brown Limper. During the funeral dancing, Brown had sat on the sidelines making sneering remarks about the dancing, about the funeral, about the meat, about the strawberries. But when he had made a remark about Jonnie's father-'Maybe never had a bone in the right place,"- Jonnie had hit him a backhand cuff. Made Jonnie ashamed of himself, hitting a cripple.

Brown Limper stood crookedly, a faint blue bruise on his cheek, watching Jonnie get ready, wishes of bad luck written all over him. Two other boys of similar age- there were only five in the whole village who were in their late teens- wandered up and asked Brown what was going on. Brown shrugged.

Jonnie kept his mind carefully on his business. He was probably taking too much, but he didn't know what he'd run into. n.o.body knew. In the two buckskin sacks he was roping on either side of the lead horse he had flint stones for fire, rat's nests for tinder, bundles of cut thongs, some sharp-edged rocks that were sometimes hard to find and cut indifferently well, three spare kill-clubs-one heavy enough to crush a bear's skull just in case- some warm robes that didn't stink very much, a couple of buckskins for spare clothes...

He gave a start. He hadn't realized Chrissie had come within a foot of him.

He hoped he wouldn't have to talk.

Blackmail, that's what it was- plain as possible and all bad. If she'd said she would kill herself if he didn't come back, well, one could have put that down to girl vaporings. But threatening to follow him in a year put another shadow on it entirely. It meant he would have to be cautious. He'd have to be careful not to get himself killed. It was one thing to worry about his own life; he didn't care a snap for risk or danger. But the thought of Chrissie going down on the plains if he didn't come back made him snow-cold at the pit of his stomach. She'd be gored or mauled or eaten alive and every agonizing second of it would be Jonnie's fault. She had effectively committed him to caution and care- just what she intended.

She was holding something out to him. Two somethings. One was a large bone needle with a thong hole in it, and the other was a skin awl. Both were worn and polished and valuable.

"They were mama's," said Chrissie. "I don't need anything." "No, you have them." "I won't need them!"

"If you lose your clothes," she wailed, "how are you going to sew?"

The crowd had thickened. Jonnie didn't need any outbursts. He s.n.a.t.c.hed the needle and awl out of her hand and unlashed the neck of a sack and dropped them in, made sure they hadn't missed and dropped out, and then relashed the sack.

Chrissie stood more quietly. Jonnie turned and faced her. He was a little bit shocked. There wasn't even a smudge of color in her face. She looked like she hadn't slept and had tick fever as well.

Jonnie's resolution wavered. Then beyond Chrissie he saw Brown Limper t.i.ttering and talking behind his hand to Petie Thommso.

Jonnie's face went tight. He grabbed Chrissie and kissed her hard. It was as though he had taken a board from an irrigation trough; the tears went down her cheeks.

"Now look," said Jonnie. "Don't you follow me!"

She made a careful effort to control her voice. "If you don't come back in a year, I will. By all the G.o.ds on Highpeak, Jonnie."

He looked at her. Then he beckoned to Windsplitter, who sidled over. With one smooth spring he mounted, the lead rope of the other horse gripped in his hand.

"You can have my other four horses," said Jonnie to Chrissie. "Don't eat them; they're trained." He paused. "Unless you get awful hungry, of course, like in the winter."

Chrissie hung on to his leg for a moment and then she stepped back and sagged.

Jonnie thumped Windsplitter with a heel and they moved off. This was going to be no wild free ride to adventure. This was going to be a tiptoe scout with care. Chrissie had seen to that!

At the entrance to the defile he looked back. About fifteen people were still standing there watching him go. They all looked dejected. He used a heel signal to make Windsplitter rear and waved his hand. They all waved back with sudden animation.

Then Jonnie was gone down the dark canyon trail to the wide and unknown plains.

The rest of the people drifted off.

Chrissie still stood there, hoping with a wild crazy hope that he would ride into sight, returning.

Pattie tugged at her leg. "Chrissie. Chrissie, will he come back?"

Chrissie's voice was very low, her eyes like ashes in a dead fire. "Goodbye," she whispered.

Chapter 6.

Terl belched. It was a polite way to attract attention, but the belch didn't make much impression through the whine and howl of machines in the transport department maintenance dome.

Zzt's concentration on his work became more marked. Minesite 16's transport chief had little use for the security head. Every time a tool or a car or fuel turned up missing- or something was broken- it got attention from security.

Three crashed cars were strewn about in various stages of rea.s.sembly, one of them very messy with splotches of green Psychlo blood in the interior upholstery. The big drills that dangled from the ceiling rails pointed sharp beaks this way and that, idling in their programming. Lathes with nothing in their jaws spun waiting for something to twist and shave. Belts snarled and slapped at each other.

Terl watched the surprisingly nimble talons of Zzt disa.s.semble the small concentric sh.e.l.ls of a high-speed jet engine. Terl had hoped to detect a small tremble or two in Zzt's paws- if the transport chief's conscience was bothering him it would be much easier to do business. There was no tremble.