Temuchin swung his sword back to cut Jason out of the way, while Kerk clutched his arm to pull him aside, his fingers steel clamps penetrating to the bone. Jason controlled the impulse to howl with pain and said, “Order the rest of the Pyrrans here and have them, and other soldiers, throw rocks at the defended points. They won’t do much harm but the bowmen will not be able to pick out the real bomb throwers.” The sword hesitated, the grinding fingers relaxed the slightest amount and Jason hurried on.
“It is sure death for one man to stand up to the concentrated fire.
But if we can divide the fire, we can march up this valley just as fast as we can walk and clean them out. We’ll be past the defenses by dark.”
For one instant Temuchin’s attention wavered back to his army and the darkening sky, and the tension was broken. Winning this battle was the only important thing, and personal intrigues would have to wait. He began to issue orders, unaware of the sword still grasped in his hand. Kerk’s taloned grip finally relaxed and Jason stretched his bruised muscles.
The advance could not be stopped now. Stone, throwing figures bobbed up on all sides, and the baffled enemy had no way of telling which one was the lightning hurler. While the nomads just lobbed their stones and darted back to safety, the Pyrrans, with years of grenade, throwing experience, took careful aim and planted their small boulders behind the barricaded walls, breaking more than one skull in the process. They marched forward relentlessly and, one by one, the resisting strong points were demolished.
“We’re coming to the end!” Jason shouted, pounding Kerk on the shoulder to get his attention and pointing ahead.
At this place The Slash was less than a hundred meters wide, pinched in by two tall spires of solid rock that rose straight up from the valley floor. Through this narrow gap could be seen the red of the sunset sky, and the plain beyond. The almost vertical walls ended at the spires. Once the horde passed them, it could not be stopped.
As Jason and Kerk pushed forward with a fresh supply of bombs, they realized that most of the soldiers were running back toward them. From up ahead came the shrill rise and fall of the iron horns.
“What is happening?” Kerk asked, grabbing one of the running men. “What do the horns mean?”
“Retreat!” the man said, pointing upward. “Look at that.” He pulled free and was gone.
A large boulder bounced down among the fleeing soldiers, squashing one of them like an insect. Jason and Kerk looked up and saw men clambering on the valley’s rim high above. They were clearly outlined against the sky, heaving and pulling at a rounded pile.
“On the other side, too!” Jason called out. “They’ve got boulders heaped up on both sides, ready to be rolled down on our heads. Pull back!” Reluctantly they retreated as more of the stones rumbled down.
Only the fact that this last, resort weapon had never been used before saved the attacking forces. The rocks and boulders had been piled higher generation after generation, until the supporting props were wedged firmly against the cliff edge. Warriors with long rods pushed at them, but they would not budge. Finally, one brave, or foolhardy, tribesman swung down on a rope and hammered the supports where they sank into the stone. He must have succeeded because in an eyeblink he was gone, swept away by the falling boulders that, for a fleeting instant, appeared to hang suspelided in the air before they fell. A short while after this the supports on the opposite cliff gave way as well.
Jason and Kerk ran with the others.
The loss of life was not great, for most of the men had been warned in time. In addition, the narrowness of The Slash at this point acted as a choke, piling up the falling stone behind the gateway higher and higher.
When the last boulder had rattled into silence, The Slash was walled shut, completely plugged by the barrier of rock.
The campaign was obviously lost.
14
“I do not like it,” Kerk said. “I do not think that it can be done.”
“Kindly keep your doubts to yourself,” Jason whispered as they came up to Temuchin. “I’ll have enough of a job selling him this in any case. If you can’t help, at least stand there and nod your head once in a while as if you agreed with me.”
“Madness,” Kerk grumbled.
“Greetings, oh warlord,” Jason intoned. “I have come bringing aid that will turn this moment of disaster into victory.”
If Temuchin heard, he gave no sign. He sat on a boulder with his hands over the pommel of his sword, which stood upright on the ground before him, looking straight ahead at the sealed pass that had stopped his dream of conquest. The last rays of the setting sun lit up the sheer, vertical faces of the towers of rock that formed the gate.
“The pass is now a trap,” Jason said. “If we try to climb the rubble blocking it, or clear it away, we will be shot down by the men concealed behind it. Long before we can have forced passage, the reinforcements will have arrived. However, there is one thing that can be done. If we were to stand on the top of the higher spire of rock, on the left there, we could drop the gunpowder bombs down on the enemy, keeping them at bay until your soldiers had climbed the rockf all.”
Temuchin’s eyes went slowly up the smooth fall of rock to the summit high above. “That stone can not be climbed,” he said without turning his head.
Kerk nodded and opened his mouth to agree, then made an oofing sound instead as Jason planted an elbow in the pit of his stomach.
“You are right. Most men cannot climb that rock. But we Pyrrans are mountain men and can climb that tower with ease. Do we have your permission?”
The warlord turned deliberately and examined Jason as though he were more than a little mad. “Begin then. I will watch.”
“It must be done during daylight. We will need to see in order to throw the bombs. Then there is special equipment in our saddlebags that we must make ready. Therefore the climb will begin at dawn and by afternoon The Slash will be yours.”
They could feel Temuchin’s eyes burning into their backs as they returned to the others. Kerk was baffled.
“What equipment are you talking about? None of this makes sense.”
“Only because you have never been exposed to accepted rock-climbing techniques. The piece of equipment I will need first is your radio, because I have to call the ship and have the other equipment made. If they work hard, it can be done and delivered before dawn. See that our men set up camp as far from the others as possible. We want to be able to slip away without being noticed.”
While the others unrolled the fur sleeping bags and dug the fire pits, Jason used the radio. The inoropes were arranged in a rough circle while he crouched in the center behind the concealing bulk of their bodies. The duty officer aboard the Pugnacious sent a messenger to awaken and call in all the men, then copied down Jason’s instructions. There were no complaints or excuses as a war emergency is a normal part of Pyrran life, and delivery of the equipment was promised for well before dawn. Jason listened to a repeat of his instructions, then signed off. He ate some of the hot stew and left orders to be awakened when the completion call came through. It had been a long day, he was on the verge of exhaustion, and tomorrow promised to be even worse. Settling down in his sleeping bag, boots and all, he pulled a flap of fur over his face to keep the ice from forming in his nostrils and fell instantly to sleep.
“Co away,” he muttered, and tried to pull away from the clutching hand that was crushing his already well crushed arm.
“Get up,” Kerk said. “The call came through ten minutes ago. The launch is leaving now with the cargo and we must ride to meet it. The moropes are already saddled.” Jason groaned at the thought and sat up. All of the heat was instantly sucked from his body and he began to shiver.