“Like I said, it’s a foreign make.”
“Don’t that beat all. Dolbert? Crawl under here and take a look at this stuff.”
Dolbert did. He shook his head and clucked.
“You ever see anything like this?”
Dolbert had to allow that he hadn’t.
“You think you kin do anything with it?”
Dolbert shrugged.
Luster turned his head. “Dolbert usually does the foreign jobs when we get ’em. He kin fix anything.”
“Can he fix this?” Jeremy asked.
“Dolbert, you think you kin do anything with this here contraption?”
Dolbert shrugged again, then nodded, chortling.
“Yeah, he figures he kin do it. You got an owner’s manual for this here vee-hicle?”
“Uh, sort of. There’s an on-board computer that has the complete technical specifications in its files. They’re hard to understand, though.”
“Yeah, I seen them types before. All them foreign words. Does it got pictures?”
“Yeah, it had schematics, but they’re not easy to figure out, either.”
“Wull, let’s get a look at ’em and see iffen we cain’t figure this gizmo out.”
Jeremy led them into the craft. He sat them down at the control panel and knelt between the seats.
“Computer?”
“Yes?”
“Boot up the schematics out of the technical files and display the ones for the damaged components.”
“Who are these two Paleolithic specimens?”
“They’re mechanics. Show ’em the stuff. We gotta get this ship fixed.”
“My tech files weren’t even written for Homo sapiens, let alone Homo neanderthalensis. Or are we talking Australopithecus africanus here?”
“Never mind that crap! Do it!”
“Aye aye, Captain.”
The Toshiba did it.
Twenty-six
Desert
The sun was declining when they had traversed the passes through the hills bordering the river. They came out into a wide valley. An intact temple, functional and unprepossessing, sat in the middle of it.
“That was simple enough,” Incarnadine said. “Though I probably would have given this dump a glance and gone on.”
“It is not what it appears,” Jonath said.
“I’ll take your word for it. Can we get much closer without tripping the spells?”
“A little farther. Then it becomes quite dangerous.”
They walked on. Incarnadine leading his mount. The surrounding hills were eroded and bleak, etched with branching networks of gullies and ridges. Slides of talus cascaded down the slopes. The valley floor was level, cut with an occasional wadi and landscaped with heaps of rock.
Incarnadine stopped. “Strange. It looks different now.”
“Yes,” Jonath said. “It does.”
“I could swear it got bigger.”
They moved on. A few minutes later Incarnadine halted again. “Now, wait a minute. It looks bigger, but paradoxically enough it doesn’t look any closer. How can that be?”
“All things are possible with Mordek.”
“Of course.”
They continued. The temple now seemed actually to recede from them. At the same time, it changed, growing more ornate and elaborate. The low sun caught the glint of gold.
“Some very fast remodelers at work over there. I wonder if they’re getting time and a half.”
The pair proceeded on, to no avail. The temple grew no closer, yet ever more resplendent. Golden friezes bridged columns of decorated stone. Atop was a roof of beaten gold bordered by gilt cornices.
“Nice place,” Incarnadine said. “You’ve seen it like this before?”
“It is as it was in the days of my father’s father.”
The sky darkened, and the ground began to shake. Wind ripped at them and the dust that blew pricked like needles on the skin.
The area around them lit up in a flash. A golden beam of energy had hit above them and splayed out, as around an invisible hemisphere. Another came, then another, each hitting with an explosive concussion like thunder.
“Nothing like getting right to the point,” Incarnadine said.
“Your forfending spells are potent,” Jonath said. “Otherwise, we would be dead. You are indeed a powerful sorcerer.”
“So far, so good. But that was just an opening gambit, I fear.”
The ground trembled. Gouts of fire shot out of rents in the ground. The wind’s force increased, and vague shapes began to fill the air, diaphanous things swooping and soaring. Eidolons appeared on the ground, and some of these coalesced into substantial figures. Some were winged, some not. Most had scales, some the heads of hawks and the bodies of two-legged lizards. All bore swords as they advanced on the approaching pair.
Incarnadine drew his sword. It was a magnificent thing, agleam with its own light, the blade of steel burnished to a mirror finish and the hilt wrought into silver involutes that defied the eye. He swung it and the air vibrated.
A hawk-head approached and slashed at him with a curving blade. He fended off the attack easily, then pointed the sword at the thing. A bolt of blue energy jumped from sword point to creature, and the latter exploded.
“Magnificent,” Jonath said.
“It ought to be. I’ve been doing this silly bullshit for years.”
A scaled one charged at him brandishing long and short swords. Incarnadine didn’t wait to engage it; he pointed the sword and let fly. The thing resisted disintegrating, but didn’t survive the second bolt.
Great birds stooped and dove, some attacking Jonath. Incarnadine had to be quick with the sword. Huge wings flapped in time with explosions of grue, and the stink of burnt flesh and feathers filled the air.
More airborne attacks came at them, these timed with ground advances. Blue bolts flashed left and right, into the air and at the ground as slithering things appeared: serpents with tails of fire. Other phenomena materialized — windmills of energy, blades chopping toward them; green ropes of luminescence that came at their legs and tried to ensnare; a poisonous orange mist that seared the lungs and scratched at the eyes. Hail the size of melons fell, shattering on the rocks. More golden fingers of energy shot out from the temple.
Manned by frog-faced drivers, chariots of fire rumbled out of the plains ahead, each drawn by five black horses snorting flames.
Jonath fell on his face and covered his head. When he dared look up again he saw not one but five Incarnadines, each wielding a fiery sword.
The next few moments were furious, profligate of energy and power. The flashes were incessant, the noise deafening. The ground heaved and rumbled, canting to one side, then the other. The heavens opened up and rain fell, lightning splintering the sky.
The concussions were so forceful that Jonath thought he would die. He hid his head again and prayed to be taken without too much pain.
The flashing stopped and the thunder gradually died, echoing from the far hills and ridges. The air cleared. The hellish creatures vanished, leaving behind the rapidly decomposing carcasses of dead horses and an idly spinning chariot wheel.
Jonath looked up and saw a lone magician, sword still at the ready.
Incarnadine scanned the horizon as things quieted down. He looked, sniffed the air, then made a few motions with his hands. He nodded with satisfaction.
He lowered his sword and turned to Jonath, smiling broadly. “Well, that was quite a workout!”
Jonath got to his feet and retrieved his cane. “You are more than merely a powerful sorcerer,” he said. “You must also be a god.”
“Not quite. Never did aspire to it. Heady stuff, godhood. It can get to you.”
“Nevertheless, you must be divine. No mere mortal could stand up to such wrath and live.”
“You’d be surprised what a diet rich in oat bran can do.”