Children of the Gates (7 page)

Linda moved just as Nick caught up with her. Before he could reach out to restrain her—

“No!” she shouted. Her hand swept through the air to strike at the other’s.

Swept out—and passed through!

Linda screamed. The other shrank back. But Linda threw herself to the ground and seized the Peke who struggled wildly in her hold, actually snapping at her in fury.

Nick pushed her behind him, confronting the other—perhaps a phantom.

There was a nebula of light about her, seemingly thrown off by the unusual white skin of her face and hands. In part that light misted her, made her from time to time harder to see. But, in spite of what had happened when Linda had tried to strike the morsel from her hand, she seemed to be entirely real and solid. And she looked more human than had the Green Man.

Her hair was a warm chestnut brown, reaching a little below her shoulders. She wore breeches of forest green, with matching boots and shirt, the sleeves of which showed from beneath a tabard like the Herald’s. Only hers was not multicolored but green, bearing across the breast glittering embroidery, in silver and gold, of a branch of silver leaves and golden apples.

“Who are you?” Nick demanded. “What do you want?”

But the stranger continued to back away, and, as she went, the mist about her deepened, clung tighter to her body, until all that could be seen was her face. There was nothing there of threat. Instead from her eyes came the slow drip of tears. And her mouth moved as if she spoke, only he heard nothing. Then the mist covered ail of her, dwindled again to nothingness and they were alone.

“She wanted Lung!” Linda still held the dog to her with tight protectiveness. “She tried to take Lung!”

“She didn’t get him,” Nick pointed out. “Get up! We have to get out of here quick.”

“Yes.” For the first time Linda seemed to realize how far they might have ventured into danger. “Nick, she tried to take Lung!”

“Maybe—”

“Maybe? You saw her! She was going to give him something—You saw her!”

“She was teasing him with it. But she might have had a bigger capture than Lung in mind. You followed him, didn’t you?”

“Me?” Linda stared at him. “But she didn’t even look at me—it was Lung she called—”

“Could it be she knew you would follow him?” Nick persisted. Looking back he could not swear that the girl had seemed any menace at all. But he had no way of evaluating the many traps this world could offer. At any rate Linda had better be well frightened now so that she would not be so reckless again.

“Do you really believe that, Nick?”

“More than I can believe she was only after Lung. And—”

He had been looking ahead, his grasp on Linda’s arm hurrying her along, intent on regaining the safety of the house with all possible speed. But now he realized that he was not sure of the direction. Though it was much lighter than when he had set forth, he could sight nothing here as a landmark he remembered. As he studied the ground he hoped for some mark there to guide them.

Yes! His momentary uneasiness passed—here—and there—He need only follow those quite distinct marks and they would lead them back to safety.

Odd, he would not have believed they were so far from the house. It had seemed, remembering, that he had not been too long under the trees before he had caught up with Linda. But the tracks were plain enough to keep him going.

Until they pushed under the last tree, past the last bush to face not the building, but an open meadow with knee-high grass and tall spikes of yellow flowers. There were more trees a distance away, but to Nick all of this was totally unfamiliar.

He had retraced their own tracks—then how—Their tracks? A small chill grew inside him—whose tracks? Or had those been tracks at all? As the lure of the singing, and the whistling that had drawn Lung, had those been signs deliberately made to draw them on, away from safety?

“What are we doing here, Nick?”

Linda was caressing the now subdued Lung. Perhaps she had not even paid attention to where they had headed.

“I thought we were headed for the house. We must have been turned around back there.”

The only thing to do, of course, was to return in the opposite direction. But he had the greatest reluctance to do that. Fear of the ill-omened glade made him unwilling to voluntarily enter it again. What was happening to him that he was afraid—actually afraid—of the woods?

“We’ll have to try to go through it.” He spoke his thoughts aloud, more than to her. Nick was determined not to yield to that growing aversion to the necessity for retracing their way.

“No, Nick!” Linda jerked back when he would have drawn her with him. “Not in there.”

“Don’t be silly! We have to get back to the house.”

She shook her head. “Nick, are you sure, absolutely sure, that you can?”

“What do you mean? This is no forest. We got through it one way, and that didn’t take us hours. Sure we can go back.”

“I don’t believe it. And I won’t.” It was as if she braced herself against his will. “I won’t go back in there!”

Nick was hot with exasperation. But he could not drag her, and he was sure he would have to if they went in that direction.

“We’ve got to get back to the house,” he repeated.

“Then we’ll go around.” Linda turned her back on him and began to walk along the outer fringe of the brush and trees.

Nick scowled. He could not leave her here alone, and short of knocking her out and carrying her—

Kicking at a clod of earth, though that hardly relieved his feelings, he set out after her.

“We’re going to have to go a long way around.”

“So we’re going the long way around,” Linda snapped. “At least we can see where we are going. Nothing is going to get behind some tree to pick us off as we go by. Nick, the woods—had things in it besides
her!
I could feel them, if I couldn’t see them.”

“The tracks.” He brought into words his own fear. “They led us out here—perhaps to trap us.”

“I don’t care! I can see anything that comes here.”

But she was willing to hurry, Nick noted. And they followed the edge of the woods, heading south, at a pace that was close to a trot. He hoped this detour would not take long, he was hungry and he was also worried as to how the others would accept their absence. The English might believe that he and Linda had cut out on their own.

No, they had left their bags, everything they owned now. A little reassured at that thought, Nick decided that the others would not clear out and leave them. Maybe right now they were in a search party, hunting. Suppose he called?

But he could not. If Linda was not just running from her own imagination, they could be watched by things from the trees. Or hunted by those to whom his calls would serve as a guide. Though the grass was so tall it was hard to tramp through, he thought he saw ahead the end of the woods.

“Nick—there’s water.” Linda angled to the left across his path.

The hollow was not a pond, but rather a basin that the hand of man, or some intelligence, had had a part in devising. For the water trickled from a pipe set in a wall about a hollow. Then that was cupped in a rounded half-bowl and fed once more into a runnel that ran on out into the meadow and disappeared.

Linda knelt, loosing Lung, who lapped avidly at the basin. She flipped the water over her flushed face and then drank from her palms cupped together. Seeing the water, Nick was struck by thirst, just as an ache within him signaled hunger. But he waited until the girl had drunk her fill, standing on guard, his attention swinging from woods, to sky, to open fields, watchful and alert. As Linda arose he ordered:

“Keep a lookout.” He went down in her place, the clear, cold water on his hands and face, in his mouth, down his throat. He had never really
tasted
water before. This seemed to have a flavor—like mint—

“Nick!”

7

He choked and whirled about, water dribbling from the side of his mouth. One look was enough.

“Get back!” Nick forced Linda, by the weight of his body and his determination, into the brush fringe of the woods.

“Keep Lung quiet!” He added a second order.

They were no longer alone in the meadow. Two figures had rounded the rising bulwark of the ridge, were running, or rather wavering forward desperately. They were dressed alike in a yellow brown that could easily be seen against the vivid green of the grass. But they did not try to take cover. It was as if some great terror, or need, drove them by the most open ways where they could keep the best speed they could muster.

Both staggered, as if they kept erect and moved only with the greatest of efforts. One fell and Nick and Linda heard him call out hoarsely, saw him strive to pull up again. His companion came to a wavering halt, looked back, and then returned to help. Linked by their hands they went on.

“Nick—in the sky!”

“I see it. Keep down, out of sight!”

A small saucer craft, such as the one that had hunted the Herald, snapped into view. Now it was almost directly over the runners who may or may not have had an instant or so to realize their peril.

Both men continued forward, their agonized effort plain. It might have been that the grassy meadow had been transformed into a bog in which sucking mud held them fast. Then they wilted to the ground and lay very still.

The saucer hung motionless directly above them. From its underside dripped a mass of gleaming cords looped and netted together, lowered by cable that remained fastened to the ship. And swinging down that came another figure.

The saucer man (if man he was) was small, dwarfish. But little could be seen of him save a silver shape. For he wore suit and helmet not unlike those of an astronaut. A second such joined the first and they busied themselves with the net and the inert men on the ground. At a signal the net swung up, heavy with the runners, the suited crewmen riding with it.

The craft swallowed up captives and captors. But it did not disappear as Nick hoped desperately that it would. He began to fear that those on board had knowledge of their presence also. Who knew what devices the hunters might operate?

“Nick—!” Linda’s whisper brought a warning scowl from him.

Her hand went to her mouth as if she needed to physically stifle her fear. Lung crouched beside her, shivering, but he did not utter a sound. Dare they try to move? Edge farther back into the woods where they were more protected by the trees? Nick was not sure they could make it—not now. It could be that they were needlessly alarmed. Still the saucer did not go.

Lung whined.

“I told you, keep—” Nick began hotly.

What he saw stunned him into silence in mid-sentence.

Between the bushes where they lay and the open meadow flashed a slender line of light. It broadened, became a mist, forming a wall before them.

Out of the saucer in turn came such a ray as had followed the Herald during his ride. It was aimed at them and once more Nick felt that sickening tingling. Where the ray met the vapor wall, the mist balled into a fiery spot. And from the centering of energy ran out lines of fire.

“Quick! This protection cannot be held. Into the woods!”

At that cry Nick did not hesitate. When he reached for Linda, his hand closed on emptiness, she was already retreating, fighting her way into the shadows of the trees. It was not until they were well under that leaf cover again that Nick demanded:

“Who called to us?”

“Nobody!” Linda leaned against a tree trunk as if she could no longer trust her own feet. “It—it was in our heads. Somebody—something—
thought
at us!”

He shook his head, not altogether denying what she had said, but as if to clear away the disorientation brought about by the realization that it was true. No one had shouted that order, it had rung in his mind!

Linda turned her head slowly from left to right and back again.

“Please, whoever—wherever you are”—her voice was low and not too steady—“we’re grateful—”

But need they be? Nick’s wariness was back full force. It might only be that they had been marked down as prey by one power who thus had defended them against another.

Something flashed into his memory as clearly as if he still saw the scene before him.

“She was crying,” he said.

“Who?” Linda was startled.

“The girl with Lung. She was crying when she disappeared.”

“You think she—” Linda was, he saw, prepared to protest.

“It might be. But why was she crying?”

Linda pressed Lung so closely to her the Peke whined. “I don’t know. Maybe she wanted Lung so much—”

“No, it wasn’t that.” Nick shook his head again. That queer sensation frustrated him. It was as if he had been on the very edge of learning something important and then a door slammed, or communication was sharply broken, leaving him ignorant. “I don’t think it had anything to do with Lung at all.”

“She whistled him to her,” Linda snapped. “Nick, what are we going to do? I don’t like this woods any better than I did before, even if it shields us from that saucer.”

He agreed with her. There was a feeling of life around them that had nothing to do with trees, or vines, moss, or the rest of the visible world. Which was the lesser of two evils—the unknown of the woods, or the open and the hunting saucer? Somehow, of the two, he was more inclined now to risk the woods and he said so.

Linda looked dubious and then reluctantly agreed.

“I suppose you are right. And we would have been netted just like those others if something hadn’t interfered. But which way?”

There Nick was at a loss. The compass on which he had depended before was back at the house with the rest of his gear. And he no longer trusted his own ability to set any course, not after what had happened before.

“Too bad Lung isn’t a hound—he might guide us—”

“But he might! Oh, why didn’t I think of that?”

Linda actually seemed to believe the Peke could guide them, and Nick was amazed at her obsession with the dog.

“His leash! I need his leash—” She had put Lung down between her feet, was looking about her as if what she sought could be materialized out of the air by the strength of her desire.

“Wait—maybe this will do.” She caught at a vine running along the ground. It was tough and resisted her efforts to wrench it loose.

Nick grabbed a good hold on it and jerked. He had no false optimism about Lung’s ability to take them out of the woods, but perhaps Linda knew more about the Peke than he did.

Linda stripped off the leaves and small stems and fastened one end to Lung’s collar. Then she picked up the small dog and held him so his slightly protruding eyes were on a level with her own.

“Lung—home—home—” She repeated that with solemn earnestness as if the small animal could understand. Lung barked twice. Linda put him down. Again she repeated:

“Home, Lung!”

The Peke turned without hesitation and headed into the woods. Linda looked back impatiently as Lung pulled at the improvised leash.

“Are you coming?”

Nick could refuse, but at the moment he had no alternative to offer. And there could be a chance she was right about Lung, that he might find the way back. Nick followed.

Apparently Lung had utter confidence in what he was doing. He wound his way among the trees never hesitating at all. And the very certainty of his steady progress promised something, Nick decided. But he was still only partly able to accept the fact that the Peke had such ability as a guide when they came out of the woods (it must have been a narrow tongue at this end) and could see, some distance to their right, the farmhouse.

“I told you!” Linda had such a note of triumphant relief in her voice that Nick guessed she had not been so firmly confident of Lung’s abilities after all.

Now she ripped off the vine leash, picked up the Peke, and ran for the building that was more than ever a promise of safety. Nick halted for a moment to check the sky. The saucer people might have foreseen this move, could be cruising overhead, or snap suddenly into view—

But Linda was running faster, too far ahead for him to catch and suggest prudence. He set out after her. As they entered the space immediately before the door Nick saw it was not, luckily, barred to them but stood ajar. Did that mean that the others were gone—?

Linda crossed the threshold, he was now only two or three paces behind her. And Nick had hardly cleared the space of the door swing before that was clapped to and the bar clanged down.

The transition from sunlight to this darkened room was such that Nick could not see clearly. Someone seized his arm ungently. He knew Stroud’s voice.

“What d’you think you’re doin’?

“I ought to give you a good one!” the Warden continued, and his grasp tightened into a painful vise. “You haven’t even the sense of a coney—not you!”

“Get your hand off me!” Nick flared. All his fears, frustrations, his anger against Linda for her foolishness, was hot in him. He struck out at the man he could only half see.

“Sam!” The Vicar pushed between them as the Warden ducked that badly aimed blow with the ease of one trained in such business.

Stroud loosed his grip, but Nick, breathing hard, did not draw back.

“You keep your hands off me,” he said again between set teeth.

“Stop it!” Linda cried out. “Nick only came after me—”

“And what were you doing out there, girl?” Lady Diana asked.

“I went after Lung. Someone whistled and he went out—through the window in the other room. I had to go after him. It’s a good thing I did or she would have had him!”

“She?” It was the Vicar who asked that. Nick’s sight had adjusted to the gloom now. He saw that they were ringed by the rest of the party.

“The shining girl in the woods. She was going to give Lung something—something to eat, I think. When I tried to knock it out of her hand,” Linda’s voice faltered, “my—my hand went right through her arm!”

She stopped as if she thought they would not believe her and for the space of a breath or two she was met by silence. Then Crocker spoke, a roughness in his voice close to that which had hardened Stroud’s when he accused Nick.

“What did she look like—this ghost girl of yours?”

“She—she was about my height,” Linda said. “I was so afraid for Lung I didn’t see her much to remember. I think she had brown hair and she was wearing green. Ask Nick—he saw her better than I did. When my hand went through her arm—” As her voice trailed into silence Nick saw them all turn to him.

“She—well, she had brown hair, only it had some red in it, too. And it was shoulder length.” He tried to remember all the details he could. Crocker had pushed ahead of Stroud, was as intent upon what Nick said as if this was of utmost importance. “She wore green—with a coat like the Herald’s—a silver and gold apple branch on it. And she was pretty—Yes,” memory suddenly provided him with another small point, “she has a little dark mole, right about here.” He touched his own face near his mouth. “You could see it because her skin was so very white.”

He heard Crocker’s breath hiss as if the pilot gasped.

“But—” Nick added what seemed to him to be most important, “when she faded away she was crying.”

“Rita!” Crocker pulled away, his shoulders hunched, his back to them.

“Or an illusion,” Hadlett said quietly. “We have seen illusions, many of them, Barry.”

Crocker did not look around, his hands were covering his face.

“An illusion would be intended for us, we knew her. These two didn’t! So what would be the purpose of feeding them an illusion?” His voice was low, toneless. Nick thought he fought to control it.

“Barry is right,” Lady Diana agreed. “Unless the People want us to try and find her—and provide such an illusion to get us out of here.”

“Which they won’t, not that way!” Crocker replied. But he still did not look at them. “We let her—it—know that long ago—”

“What else happened?” Hadlett took over the questioning.

Nick supplied the account of the mist-hidden departure of the illusion (he thought the Vicar had the right identity there), their following the wrong tracks out into the open. As tersely as he could he gave them an account of the capture of the fugitives by the saucer, the strange wall of light that undoubtedly saved them from a like fate, and their return with Lung’s aid.

Hadlett was more interested in the defense that saved them from the saucer than all else, and he took Nick through as full a description of that as he could give for a second time.

“Definitely a force field,” the Vicar commented when he had pried every possible detail out of Nick. “But the People have never interfered before, not for one of us.”

“Rita would—” Jean said. “I don’t care,” she added. “He said she was crying, and Rita did cry that last time. I believe it was Rita, not just an illusion sent to trap us. And I believe she did save them from the hunters.”

“She’s one of them!” There was ugly violence in that sentence Crocker hurled at Jean.

“Yes.” Her agreement was bleak as if he advanced an argument no one could deny.

“We do not know,” Hadlett commented, “how much of the human remains in those who accept. If Rita remembers us I do not believe it is in anger. We did what we had to do, being what and who we are. It seems plain that something well disposed to these two young people did save them this morning. And that is no small action.”

“That’s all past,” rumbled Stroud. “What we’ve got to think of is that there’s hunters here—not too far away. Something in the woods wanted you two free, but that don’t mean that it’s goin’ to keep on fightin’ for us. We can hole up here—for awhile—but not long. No supplies to keep us goin’. We’ve got to get back to the cave.”

“We’ve the bolt hole,” Crocker said as if he welcomed the change of subject. “That’ll put us on the other side of the ridge.”

“An’ a sight too near that city for my thinkin’!” Stroud answered. “But it may be we won’t have much choice.”

They scanted on the rations they shared for breakfast. Luckily they did not lack for water, for in the far corner of the big room a round stone could be heaved up and there was a well below. It would seem, Nick decided, that the original inhabitants of this place had built to withstand sieges.