They were there, both of them, and it was a shock to find out just how much of their lead he'd managed to close. Directly ahead of Ravagin, perhaps six meters away, was the guard, a sprite hovering at his shoulder giving off the glow Ravagin had seen as he rounded the bend. Farther ahead was Danae—
Ravagin's heart seemed to skip a beat. Danae was barely two meters ahead of her pursuer. And he was visibly gaining.
"You want to fight someone, fight me!" Ravagin shouted. Or had intended to shout; it came out sounding more like a dying man's gasp. But it was enough. The guard twisted his head to look, slowing down in the process... and in the half-second breather it bought her, Danae reached down to half pull, half kick the shoes off her feet and sprinted the last three meters across the invisible telefold line to safety.
But the guard didn't know she was beyond his reach. Apparently satisfied that he was in no immediate danger, he turned back and continued on toward her, raising his sword as he saw her collapsed against the wall just ahead of him. Ravagin put on a burst of speed, knowing suddenly what he would have to do and how he would have to do it; skidded to a halt and spun a hundred eighty degrees around, sword braced straight out against his belt buckle. Behind him, the guard hit the telefold, reappeared the preordained five meters back—
And slammed headlong into Ravagin, impaling himself on Ravagin's sword.
The momentum of that rush bowled Ravagin over, the two of them toppling together onto the floor...
and as the man on top of him rattled and died, a horrible, ululating scream split the air.
Dimly, through the ringing in his ears, Ravagin heard a voice. "Oh, God!" Danae was gasping.
"Ravagin!"
"I'm all right," he panted, struggling for the leverage to push the bloody body off of him. He'd barely begun when Danae was kneeling beside him, taking the dead man's arm and helping Ravagin push.
"Are you okay?" he added, looking up at her.
"I'm fine—he never touched me," she assured him distractedly, eyes widening at the sight of the blood matting his shirt. "But that scream—I thought you'd been killed.
"I don't think it was any human voice made that sound," he said, still trying to catch his breath.
"Looks like the spirits hedged their bets a little, after all, and had something in here keeping an eye on things." In the glow of the sprite still riding the dead man's shoulder, Danae's sweat-sheened body fairly glowed; and it took a second for him to catch the significance of the way she was looking at him... "Your eyes!" he blurted suddenly. "They're all right?"
"I guess so," she said, helping him to his feet. "As soon as I crossed the telefold everything went dark."
"Everything—? Oh. Right." He took a deep breath, let it out slowly. "We made it. We actually made it."
"I never had any doubt we would," Danae said... and abruptly she was in his arms.
They held each other that way for a long minute... and when the trembling of mutually released fear and tension had finally worked its way out, Ravagin gently disengaged her arms. "Yeah," he said, "I thought we were as good as dead, too. Come on; let's shake the dust of Karyx off our feet and get the hell out of here."
Ravagin got undressed as quickly as fatigue and tired muscles permitted, stowing everything in the hidden lockers before crossing with Danae to the Shamsheer side of the Tunnel. He kept his ears cocked for sounds of further pursuit, but none of the guards they'd left behind had made an appearance by the time he and Danae were finishing dressing. "You think they've given up?" Danae asked, glancing nervously back down the Tunnel as he studied the weapons shelf in the glow of a firefly around his finger. "That spirit scream sounded like a battle call."
"It was probably just venting a load of futile anger," Ravagin shrugged. "The spirits must surely know we're beyond their reach now, and given that there's no real point in their wasting time sending men in after us. Damn, but I wish they'd keep these weapons lockers better stocked."
"If they came in naked—"
"I'd almost like to see them try it," he said grimly, removing his old scorpion glove and a dagger from the locker and securing them to his belt. "Here," he added, pulling out a second dagger and handing it to her.
She frowned a bit as she took it. "Last time we came through here you told me Shamsheer nobleladies didn't wear weapons."
"They don't, but for the moment I don't really care about the local customs."
She snorted gently. "And Melentha might just be desperate enough to send naked men after us?"
He sighed. Danae was getting altogether too good at reading his mind. "She wouldn't dare," he told her, not entirely honestly. "I just don't feel like taking unnecessary chances, that's all. Come on, let's go—I want to get a sky-plane and be somewhere civilized by breakfast."
The first light of dawn had driven away all but the westernmost stars as Ravagin emerged from the Tunnel and stepped a few meters into the forest clearing surrounding it. For a moment he listened, alert for any of the nighttime predators who might not yet have sought shelter and sleep. But only the sounds of awakening birds and insects reached his ears, and after making a careful visual scan of the area he turned back to the Tunnel and waved. "All clear," he called softly. She stepped out; and as he reached for the prayer stick at his belt, her eyes abruptly shifted skyward. He looked up, following her gaze—
And froze. Descending rapidly toward them was a sky-plane carrying the unmistakable figures of two trolls. Humanoid machines, programmed for defense of their Protectorate and castle-lord and totally incapable of moving even a meter outside their own boundaries... and yet they were here—at the Tunnel—over thirty kilometers from the nearest Protectorate.
"Oh, hell," Ravagin murmured, very softly.
The sky-plane came nearer... and from one of the trolls boomed a voice: "Stand where you are, trespassers on the soil of the Faymar Protectorate," it ordered. "You will submit to my command or be executed."
Chapter 33
This isn't fair, was the first, resentful, thought to cross Danae's mind as the sky-plane settled toward a landing. We're tired and hungry, we've been hunted and harassed by an entire world and nearly killed in the process, and my eyes still hurt from what happened to them. And now this. Damn it all, it isn't fair.
And then her fatigued mind caught up with her... and she felt her stomach muscles freeze.
"Ravagin!" she hissed, "Those trolls—"
"Keep back," he said without turning around. "Something's very, very wrong here."
"They're not supposed to be this far out of their Protectorate, are they?"
"They're not supposed to be anywhere out of their Protectorate," he replied. "Stay back, Danae—if I have to fight them, I want to have room to maneuver."
Fight them? Danae shifted her eyes back to the sky-plane and the two figures rising to their feet there. Sophisticated machines—she knew that much from her Triplet orientation—but from less than twenty meters away she found it hard to accept that fact on a gut level. True, their barrel chests and tubular limbs showed too much curvature and too little muscular definition beneath their orange/
black/yellow garb; and their almost non-existent necks, overlarge bald heads, and pale skin kept them from ever being mistaken for human beings. And yet, there was something else about them—
the ease and fluidity of their movements, perhaps—that seemed to belie their mechanical nature.