It took him a long time to recognize it for what it was. The Black Priest! Ftzaal-Tzaatz was insulated from the world of observer quantum wave collapse by the Black Fur gene, which made his awareness unavailable to Pouncer, but he was there, waiting for him, he could sense that much at least. He is alive, he is aware, there must be a way to reach him. He concentrated, directed all his energy at it, felt his own awareness burning away with the effort of the attempt, but nothing he could do would penetrate the barrier. The Black Fur gene is powerful. More sthondat extract would let him know Ftzaal's mind. But I cannot lose myself in the mind-trance. If only I could touch him… Physical contact would strengthen the bond, let him break through the Black Priests' barriers, but that was impossible. Already he could feel the drug's effects fading, and the desire for more, to rekindle the vision, was strong, strong within him. The Citadel gates were coming up. How much time has passed? He fought the craving, fought as well to return himself to awareness, to open his eyes so he could lead his assaulters to the walls of his father's fortress, as he must. He entered a twilight zone then, between the two universes and then found another awareness, in terrible pain. It was different somehow, a kz'eerkti. Cherenkova-Captain! She suffers the Hot Needle! Her pain swept over him, consuming him like a swarm of v'pren and from far, far away he heard himself howling in response.
And the world returned like a sudden bath of ice water, and he found himself lying on the floor of the tsvasztet, Swift-Claw kneeling over him with concern. Sounds of battle rose, kzinti kill screams mixed with the deep, booming bellows of enraged tuskvor and the keening cries of rapsari.
He staggered to the front of the tsvasztet where C'mell still had the tiller bar. They were surging past Hero's Square, entering the forest of broadleaf trees that separated it from the Citadel, and the rapsar assaulters were waiting for them there. As he watched, a pair of them appeared and attacked a tuskvor immediately in front of him. They were half its size, but vicious, with pincer tentacles that slashed and stabbed, seeking the vulnerable flesh beneath the tuskvor's armor. The tuskvor bellowed in pain and the Ztrak Pride warriors on its back leapt with grav belts and variable swords to attack the Tzaatz infantry who rode the rapsari. The rapsar keened and tore at the tuskvor's neck. Blood began to fountain to the ground as the tuskvor struggled, thrashing its huge tail and trying to bring its tusks to bear on its antagonist. The other beast snatched a czrav Hero in midleap, crushing his life out and casting him aside. The tuskvor went down with a crash that shook the ground and snapped ancient broadleaf trunks to the ground. A volley of steel balls from a Tzaatz launcher rapsar deeper in the woods came over, one of them tearing the canopy and half the tsvasztet railing off of Pouncer's tuskvor, coming so close to him that he felt the wind of its passage. He toggled the vocom on his beltcomp and spoke into it, the battle picture he'd gained in the mind-trance still fresh in his memory. “Ztrak Pride, close and attack. Dziit Pride, right flank from reserve, take the north walls, clear the way for the assault prides.” The need for stealth is gone now, and the Tzaatz won't have time to break the crypting. “Support prides into position. Ccarri Pride, lead the others to secure the perimeter.”
The mind-trance was still strong enough on him that he felt his warriors responding to his commands, even as the confirmations crackled over the vocom channel. The battle had broken up into swirling knots of violence, the cohesion of both attack and defense broken by the close country. A pair of resin-spraying assaulters lumbered out of the trees, gouting noxious goo from their forehead nozzles. C'mell hauled on the tiller and their tuskvor bellowed and balked. She yanked the releases, letting the control lines run free, and the angered tuskvor swung its horns at the nearer assaulter, ripping its side open. It collapsed in a stew of its own ichor, twitching. The tuskvor lurched and jabbed at the second one, missing. The assaulter came closer, under the tuskvor's long, powerful neck, spraying wildly. A gobbet of the sticky poison hit Pouncer on the arm, burning where it touched, and drying to a thick resin almost at once, but there wasn't enough there to incapacitate him. The rapsar keened and their tuskvor ran over it, crushing it underfoot without slowing down, but the attack had already taken its toll. The tuskvor's neck and forebody were covered in the goo, and it bellowed in rage and pain. C'mell struggled hard to reel in the lines she'd let loose to regain control over the beast, but the resin had hopelessly snarled them. The tuskvor spotted another rapsar, this one a catapulter, and it bellowed and charged. The damaged tsvasztet lurched and slid backward as the catapulter cut loose a salvo of steel balls.
Pouncer grabbed for support. “Grav belts!”
The balls flew past and several smacked the tuskvor in the chest hard enough that Pouncer heard the bones break even over the din of the battle. The tuskvor bellowed again but kept moving. One of the balls tore away the mazourk's station, and panic filled him for an instant when he didn't see C'mell there. He looked wildly around, saw her behind him, closing the last buckle on her grav belt. She tossed him his own and he quickly snapped it around his waist even as the tsvasztet lurched again, its forward securing lines torn loose. He leapt for the still-stable back section as the tuskvor reached the fleeing catapulter, goring it and throwing its handlers to the ground to scramble out of the way before their now lifeless creation toppled on top of them. The violent motion parted the last restraining rope, and the front half of the travel platform slid off its back and splintered on the ground as the tuskvor stabbed at the corpse again and again. Another tuskvor blundered past with its tsvasztet on fire, this one crushing the rapsar handlers who'd managed to escape. Ferlitz-Telepath's travelpack was there, and he reached inside for the remaining two vials of sthondat extract. Already he was craving the power of the mind-trance. I am not addicted, I will only use them if I need them. Even as he thought it the impulse seized him to throw them away, to remove even the temptation to start down the path of Patriarch's Telepath. Their injured tuskvor staggered forward and the tsvasztet lurched dangerously. Reflexively he slid the vials into his hunt pouch and drew his variable sword as a two-sword of rapsar raiders appeared before them, their riders firing crystal iron crossbow bolts. Pouncer saw Battle Captain go down, a bolt through his neck. He looked around, counting his small band. Night-Prowler was nowhere to be seen. But C'mell is still here. That fact was more important than he ever could have imagined. Pray the Fanged God she is still here at the end of this.
The raiders circled, waiting for their prey to go down, and then a fresh shower of arrows rained down from nowhere. Pouncer looked up and saw the walls of the Citadel looming over them, mirror bright with mag armor engaged, with Tzaatz archers firing from the battlements. Here and there other tuskvor had made it to the walls, standing to their broad chests in the Quickwater. Their mazourk had hauled their necks high to act as assault ladders for the Heroes swarming up them. Further back, siege engines mounted on the backs of other tuskvor pumped ballista shafts and showers of catapult stone at the enemy to clear the way for the attackers.