ESCAPE
"Something ahead!" Thorvald did not the set by the spot of green they trailed. Both of the Terrans to behind, to touch with that guide. Their that somehow the traveling would them to the end of the and its had with every of ground they traversed.
A dark, point, now by mist, beyond, and it was toward that half-shadow that the hurtled. Now the away to its bulk—larger, and four or five times Thorvald's height. Both men stopped short, for the no longer played pathfinder. It still on its in the air, and faster, until it appeared to be off sparks, but the against a of dark the native they had elsewhere. For it was neither red brown, but a dull, black. It have been a slab, trimmed, smoothed, set up on end as a or marker, that only labor have such a task, and there was no for such as as the Terrans perceive.
"This is it." Thorvald moved closer.
By the disk's action, they that their had them to this black with the of a beam-controlled ship. However, the purpose still them. They had for some from the of the veil, but now they a solid of dark stone, neither a or entrance, as they proved by its base. Beneath their was the sand, around them the fog.
"Now what?" Shann asked. They had their about the and were again where the with in a of sparks.
Thorvald his head, the them glumly. The had gone out of his expression, a it.
"There must have been some purpose in here," he replied, but his had the of moments earlier.
"Well, if we away from here, we'll just right in again." Shann a hand toward the mist, waiting as if with a hunter's watch upon them. "And we can't go down." He a toe into the to the of that. "So, what about up?"
He under the to his hands against the surface of the slab. And in so doing he a discovery, to his touch although from sight. For his fingers, across the cold, surface of the stone, into a hollow, a hollow.
Excited, that his might be wrong, Shann his hand higher in line with that hollow, to a second. The had been level with his chest, the second eighteen or so above. He jumped, to his the rock, with to his but his proof. There was a third niche, to more than just the toe of a boot, and a fourth above that....
"We've a of here," he reported. Without waiting for any answer from Thorvald, Shann to climb. The were so well matched in shape and size that he was sure they not be natural; they had been there for use—the use to which he was now them—a to the top of the slab. Though what he might there was his power to imagine.
The did not rise. Shann passed that of light, above it into the gloom. But the did not fail him; each was waiting in a direct line with its companion. And to an active man the was not difficult. He the summit, around, and a quick for a secure handhold.
Waiting for him was no level such as he had to find. The surface up which he had just his way fly-fashion was the of a well or chimney. He looked now into a where black a of the top, for the of the did not into that descent.
Shann an attack of giddiness. It would be very easy to control, to over and be up in what might well be a chasm. And what was the purpose of this well? Was it a to a into an climb and then let him over? The whole was meaningless. Perhaps meaningless only to him, Shann conceded, with a of level thinking. The be different as as the were concerned. This did have a reason, or it would have been in the place.
"What's the matter?" Thorvald's voice was with impatience.
"This thing's a well." Shann about a to call back. "The is open and—as as I can tell—goes clear to the planet's core."
"Ladder on the too?"
Shann squirmed. That was, of course, a very supposition. He a tight with his left hand, and with the other, he did some exploring. Yes, here was a right enough, to those on the outside. But to over that narrow of safety and a into the black of the well was than any action he had taken since the the Throgs had the camp. The green no terrors than those with which his the now waiting to him. But Shann over, his into the hollow, and started down.
The only he that was that those were spaced. But somehow his did not on that fact. There always the that when he for the next it would not be there and he would to his the needful in arms and to the ladder.
He was fast that of well being which had been his his through the fog; a at his arms and on his shoulders. Mechanically he for the next hold, and then the next. Above, the of half-light smaller and smaller, sometimes out by the movements of Thorvald's as the other him that way.
How was down? Shann at the of that, or what to be at the moment. He was that they were now the level of the the slab. And yet no end had come to the well hollow.
No of light here; he might have been sightless. But just as the an of obstacles, so did Shann now that he was aware of a in the nature of the space about him. His arms and him against the of a wall, yet the that there was no longer another at his with every which him downward. And he was as sure as if he see it, that he was now in a wide-open space, another cavern; perhaps, but this one totally dark.
Deprived of sight, he upon his ears. And there was a sound, faint, by the of this place, but up a murmur. Water! Not the wash of with their beat, but the of a stream. Water must below!
And just as his had with his the fog, so now did and thirst at Shann, all the for the delay. The Terran wanted to that water, picture it in his mind, away the possibility—the probability—that it might be sea-born and salt, and so to drink.
The upper opening to the of the was now so above him that he had to to see it. And that which had been there was gone. A him here, the to which he until he was of slipping. While the of the water louder, until its slap-slap arms' distance. His toe from a niche. Shann to on with fingers. The other went. He by his hands, kicking to a measure of footing.
Then his arms no longer support him, and he out as he fell. Water closed about him with an which for a moment him. He out, the to his above the surface where he in of air.
There was a here, a one. Shann the one which had him into that in which the Warlockians had their dwelling. Although there were no of in this to supply him with light, the Terran to a that he was again in that same stream, that those light would appear, and that he might return to the starting point of this meaningless journey.
So he only to keep his above water. Hearing a him, he called out: "Thorvald?"
"Lantee?" The answer came at once; the louder as the other to catch up.
Shann a of the water against his chin. The taste was brackish, but not salt, and though it his lips, the liquid a measure of his thirst.
Only no appeared to these walls, and Shann's that they were on their way to the of the faded. The swifter, and he had to to keep his above water, his to commands.
The of the louder in his ears, or was that the same? He no longer be sure. Shann only that it was close to to the necessary as he was rolled over and over in the flood.
In the end he was into blazing, light, into a of wild water as the in an Terran might have been at no target. Gasping, beaten, more than half-drowned, Shann was by waves, up on a surface which his cruelly. He there, his arms moving until he to himself in time to be sick. Somehow he on a he again, by the light, from the of the on which he lay, but unable to do more for himself.
His was that his the of this was at last resolved. This not possibly be an hallucination; at least this particular of events was not. And he was still that when a hand on his shoulder, into his flesh.
Shann snarled, rolled over on his side. Thorvald, water from his rags—or from them—his to his skull, sat there.
"You all right?"
Shann sat up in turn, his eyes. He was bruised, enough, but he no major injuries.
"I think so. Where are we?"
Thorvald's across his teeth in what was more a than a smile. "Right off the map, any map I know. Take a look."
They were on a of beach—beach which was more like a reef, for it any to for some of locked in depressions. Rocks, red as the of blood, rose in water-sculptured around the small semi-level space they had somehow won.
This space was V-shaped, by equal on either of the of by water which from the of a not too away, with to its point. Shann that and at its significance, a breath, and the of an from his companion.
"Yes, that's where we came out, boy. Like to make a return trip?"
Shann his head, and then that he had not so that move, for the world in a whirl. Things had too fast. For the moment it was that they were out of the ways, under the sky, the bite of Warlock's sun.
Steadying his with hands, Shann slowly, to survey what might at their backs. The water, by on either side, that they were again on an island. Warlock, he gloomily, to be for Terrans a of islands, all hard to escape.
The of did not any exploration. Just at them added to his weariness. They rose, by tier, to a against the sky. Shann to at them.
"To climb that...." His voice into the of complete discouragement.
"You climb—or swim," Thorvald stated. But, Shann noted, the Survey officer was not in a to make either move.
Nowhere in that of was there the least of foliage. Nor did any clak-claks or leather-headed the sky over their heads. Shann's thirst might have been assuaged, but his remained. And it was that need which him at last into action. The promised nothing in the way of food, but the the had taken from under the along the river, he got to his and out on the which had been their salvation, some which might an or two.
So it was that Shann the of a possible path of a toward the other end of the island, if this were an where they had taken refuge. The of the water that way, small in the surface, and of yellow in the surface of the waves.
He called to Thorvald and to his find. And then, close together, hands when the going hazardous, the men the path. Twice they in the pools, or creatures, which they killed and ate, the of odd-tasting flesh. Then, in a small crevice, which be by the of "cave," Thorvald upon a discovery—a of four eggs, each as large as his fist.
Their was more like than true shell, and the Terrans it open with difficulty. Shann his eyes, trying not to think of what he mouthed as he his dry. At least that semi-liquid put in his middle, though he results from the experiment.
More than a little by this piece of luck, they on, though the from a level surface to a series of rising, steps, them away from the water. At long last they came to the end of that path. Shann against a of rock.
"Company!" he Thorvald.
The Survey officer joined him to an of from which they were provided with an excellent view of the below, and it was a to their full attention.
That soft of which had the of the here also, a gray-blue out of the sea. For Shann had no that the wide of water them was the western ocean. Walling the beach on either side, and well out into the water so that the were for their crowns, were of stone, with the same as that which had provided them a of escape. And of the of their spacing, Shann did not them of nature.
Grouped them now were the players of the drama. One of the Warlockian witches, her patterns in the sunlight, was walking out of the sea, her hands together, high, in a Terran of prayer. And her something in the water, not another of her own species. But her that by some means she was that water after her. Waiting on were two others of her kind, her with close attention, the attention of for an instructor.
"Wyverns!"
Shann looked at his companion. Thorvald added a of explanation. "A of Terra—they were to have a snake's of legs, but the heads.... They're Wyverns!"
Wyverns. Shann liked the of that word; to his mind it well the Warlockian witches. And the one they were in action her retreat, her out of the water. What into the of was one of those fork-tailed sea such as the Terrans had die after the storm. The thing out of the shallows, its in a on the praying hands of the Wyvern.
She halted, well up on the sand, when the of her or prisoner—Shann was that the fork-tail was one or the other—was out of the water. Then, with speed, she her hands.
Instantly fork-tail came to life. Fanged snapped. Aroused, the was the of rage, a which had a measure of to direct it into action. And it, and defenseless, were the slender, Wyverns.
Yet none of the small group of any attempt to escape. Shann them in their as fork-tail, sending the in a cloud, a toward its enemies.
The Wyvern who had the did not move. But one of her up a hand, as if the to a stop. Between her two was a disk. Thorvald at Shann's arm.
"See that! It's a copy of the one I had; it must be!"
They were too away to be sure it was a duplicate, but It was coin-shaped and bone-white. And now the Wyvern it and in a sweep. Fork-tail to a stop, its beginning—reluctantly at first, and then, with speed—to echo that left-right sweep. This Wyvern had the sea under control, as her had it.
Chance what next. As had her sister charmer, the Wyvern a up the length of the beach, the sea thing in her wake. They were very close to the of the above which the Terrans stood, fascinated, when the the witch. Her into a and she was backward, her out of her fingers.
At once the she had its head, at that trifle—and it. Then the fork-tail in a Shann had the use when they were about to spring. The Wyvern was the prey, and her were too away to interfere.
Why he moved he not have explained. There was no for him to go to the of the Warlockian, one of the same who had him against his will. But Shann sprang, landing in the on his hands and knees.
The sea thing around, two possible victims. Shann had his knife free, was on his feet, his on the beast's, that he had himself for no good reason.
