It dropped only a short distance, moments later, and a hatch at its rear fell open. Three men hurried out and another followed more slowly, coughing. Pol saw a darting of flames within and more moving forms beating at and attempting to smother them. He lowered the rod and extended his hand to Nora,
"Let's get out of here," he said. "I've burned out several engines. They won't be able to follow."
They clambered up onto Moonbird's back.
Now! Hurry! Take us away!
We can finish them off first.
They are helpless now. Get us aloft!
Moonbird began a waddling run beneath the trees, fanning the air with his wings. When he broke into the cleared area, he lifted above the ground. A cry came up from somewhere to the right.
Pol saw the three men who had fled the smoldering battle-wagon. They were kneeling and had raised their weapons. White puffs emerged from the muzzles, and he immediately felt a burning pain in the back of his neck and slumped across Moonbird's shoulder. He heard Nora cry out and felt her catching at his shirt, his belt. His head swirled through dark places, but he did not immediately lose consciousness, A distant booming sound came to his ears. His neck was wet.
We should have finished them first... Moonbird was saying.
Nora was talking as she did something behind him, but he could not hear the words.
Then his eyes closed and everything diminished.
When the world came back, her hand was on his neck, holding a cold compress in place. He smelled the sea. He felt the play of muscles beneath the scales against which his cheek was pressed. Moonbird smelled a bit like old leather, gunpowder and lemon juice, he suddenly realized. Somehow the thought struck him as funny and he chuckled.
"You're awake?" said Nora.
"Yes. How serious is it?"
"It looks as if someone laid a hot poker across your neck and held it there for a time."
"That's about how it feels, too. What's on it?"
"A piece of cloth I soaked in water."
"Thanks. It helps."
"Do you know a spell to heal it?"
"Not offhand. But I may be able to think of something. Tell me first what happened, though."
"You were hit by something. I think it might have come from one of those smoking sticks the men were pointing."
"Yes, it did. But what was the crashing noise? Did their ship explode?"
"No. It had larger--things--like those pointed by the men. These turned to follow us, then they began smoking and making the noise. Several things seemed to explode near us. Then it stopped."
Pol propped himself and looked back. It hurt to turn his head. The island was already receding in the distance, its outline vaguely misted. He looked down at the sea, up toward the sun.
Moonbird, are you all right?
Yes. And you?
I'll be okay. But we seem to be heading, northwest, rather than southwest. Maybe I'm wrong, though. You are the expert.
You are not wrong.
"Let me tie that in place for you."
"Go ahead."
Why? What is the matter?
The place you wish to visit next--it lies a great distance from here, many day's travel.
Yes, I know. That is why it is important that we follow the route I have laid out. Many island stopovers will be necessary.
Not really. Maps mean less to me than my feelings. I realized recently there is a shortcut.
How can that be? The shortest distance between two points is a--a great circle segment.
I will take us the way of the dragons.
The way of the dragons? What do you mean?
I have been that way before. Between some places there are special routes. Holes in the air, we call them. They move about, slowly. The closest one to a place near where you would go now lies in this direction.
Holes in the air? What are they like?
Uncomfortable. But I know the way.
Anything that is uncomfortable to a dragon might prove fatal to anyone else.
I have borne your father through them.
They are much faster?
Yes.
All right. Go ahead.
How far is it?
I may get us there by evening.
Is there a place before that where we can stop for repairs?
Several.
Good.
The sun hung low and red before them. To the right, a fuzzy line of coast darkened the horizon like a rough brush stroke. Mounds and streamers of pink and orange clouds filled the sky to the left and ahead. Moonbird was climbing and the wind seemed to grow colder with each beat of his wings. Pol stared upward and rubbed his eyes, for his vision had suddenly blurred.
The blur remained. He moved his head and it stayed in the same place.
Moonbird... ?
Yes, we are nearing it. It will be soon now.
Is there anything special that we should do?
Do not let go. Mind your possessions. I cannot help you if we become separated.
The wrinkle in the sky had grown larger as they climbed, reminding Pol of the invisibility shield viewed from the user's side. They reached its altitude and passed it. Looking down upon it, he saw it to be silvery, shining and opaque, like a pool of mercury, touched faintly pink by the receding sun. It achieved an even more substantial appearance as they rose higher above it.
Why have we passed it?
It must be entered from the bright side.
"We are going to dive through that?" Nora asked.
"Yes."
Pol touched the back of his neck and felt only a moderate ache. Already, the healing spell he had concocted seemed to be working--or at least killing the pain. Nora squeezed his shoulder.
"I'm ready."
He patted her hand as Moonbird achieved a position above the circle and began to slow.
"Hang on."
They began to drop. Moonbird's wings beat again, driving them faster.
It is not solid, Pol told himself without conviction, as the shining thing grew before them.
Suddenly, they were past it, and there was no up or down, only forward. Right and left would not stay put, for they seemed to be swirling, spiraling about a light-streaked vortex while a continuously rising scream pierced their ears. Pol bit his lip and clung tightly to Moonbird's neck. Nora was hugging him so hard that it hurt. He tried closing his eyes, but that worsened things, making his rising vertigo near to unbearable. There did seem to be a bit of brightness far, far ahead. His stomach wrenched, and whatever emerged was mercifully whipped away, Moonbird began expelling flames which fled back past them like glowing spears. The wailing had now reached at least partially into the ultrasonic. If he stared too long at the smears of light they seemed on the verge of becoming grotesque, open-mouthed faces. The one steady patch of brightness seemed no nearer.
Are all of the shortcuts like this? Pol asked.
No. We're lucky, Moonbird replied. There are some bad ones.
XVIII
Eyes aching, shoulders sore from the long flight, Mouseglove circled the tumbling stone structure, saw no sign of other visitors and was about to land nearby. His hands jerked, however, swinging the vessel out over the jungle until a cleared area came into sight. His sigh was voluntary as he brought the small ship down for a landing, but when he attempted to utter a choice from his amazing collection of curses, he discovered that his tongue would not respond.
You could at least let me rest, he mentally addressed his unseen manipulators. Whatever it is that you want of me, you will get a better performance if I am not exhausted.
We regret the inconvenience, came their first communication since his dream on Anvil Mountain, accompanied briefly by a peculiar doubling of vision, as if the scene about him were momentarily overlaid by the image of a flickering taper, a dark presence moving near it. But there is no choice, You overtook the other vessels during the night. We gave you a different course, and yours is a faster ship. But your lead is not that great. There is no time to rest. Take the wide, flat blade from the sheath on the door. Go outside. Cut branches, fronds. Conceal this vessel.