E. C. Tubb - Dumarest 16 - Haven of Darkness.pdf - E. C. Tubb - margozap

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Haven of Darkness

#16 in the Dumarest series

E. C Tubb

Chapter One

Delusia came unexpectedly so that she continued riding

towards the north, forgetting the passage of time in the

stimulating conversation with Charles. He looked well as he rode

easily at her side, his clothes the same as she remembered him

wearing when, shortly after they had first met, he had attended

her on a hunt. The bag had been negligible; some vermin tossed

aside on the homeward journey, but the pleasure had been great.

They had wandered, hands touching, talking of a variety of

things with a irresistible torrent of words. Normally shy she had

found a release in his presence while he, perhaps amused at her

young eager attention, had relaxed the guard he usually wore.

Now, riding close to her side, he was the same suave,

charming man she had known when little more than a girl. A

long time ago now and she had known him when he looked other

than he did at the moment. There had been lines tracing the

smooth curve of his cheek and a sagging of the flesh beneath the

chin. The old, familiar manner had become crusted with

accumulated layers of distrust and, when he had finally died,

killed in some stupid quarrel, he had resembled an old and tired

man rather than the youth she chose to remember.

"Charles!" She lifted her whip and pointed ahead to where a

narrow cleft showed in the bleak wall of the Iron Mountains.

"That gulley, you see it? The first to reach it claims a forfeit. Go!"

A childish game and one she hadn't played for years now and

she had a moment's wonder as to why she should choose to play

it now. A return to her youth, perhaps, her childhood? The

fiction of a happier time? If so she knew better, for her childhood

had not been happy and the things it contained were best

forgotten.

Leaning forward, heels drumming, she concentrated on the

race. Beneath her she could feel the surge and pulse of muscle as

her mount sent iron-shod hooves against the bare rock of the

foothills. In her nostrils she could smell the odors of sweat and

hair, of leather and oil, catch too the sensual scent of the beast; a

mare close to seasonal heat—had that scent triggered her own

femininity?

The drumming of the hooves softened as they hit a film of

drifted soil; grains carried by the winds and trapped in the

shelter of the cleft. Dull echoes rose to be caught and reflected by

the soaring walls of either side. Before them shadows lay dense,

sombre banks of thickening darkness which hid what lay beyond

and seemed to hide the hint of movement.

Abruptly the mare came to a halt, raring, forelegs rising, eyes

rolling, foam dropping from bared teeth and muzzle. A move

which almost threw her, would have thrown her had she not

been about to check the forward motion of the animal.

"Steady, girl! Steady!"

Charles, of course, had vanished, but she thought nothing of

him as she ran her hands over the head and muzzle of the

frightened beast, soothing the animal with words and touch. And

the mare had reason to be afraid. She had ridden too long and

wandered too far and now it was dangerously close to night.

Looking up she saw the edges of the gulley framing a strip of

purple sky palely flecked with the ghosts of stars. The suns were

invisible, coming into view only when she had left the mountains

and begun the journey home.

They were lower than she had thought and she cursed the

delusia which had robbed her of elementary caution. Already the

day was dying, the light diffused, the air holding a metallic taint,

but with luck, she decided, she could just about make it. If it

hadn't been for the stupid race with Charles she would have had

no doubt but now, literally, it was a matter of life and death.

"Go!" She snapped to the mare. "Run for your life now, girl.

Run!"

She helped, easing the stirrups, loosening the reins, placing

her weight so as to help and not to hamper the rhythm of the

animal. There was little more she could do. To have halted and

removed the saddle would have lost time and the saving of

weight was not as important as it would seem. The beast was

accustomed to the saddle and she was not skilled in bare-backed

riding.

"Move, girl! Move!"

It was no time to be gentle. The spurs she wore more for

decoration than for actual use dug into the heaving flanks, the

sting of the whip accentuating their message of urgency. Beneath

her she felt the animal bound, fresh life sent to tiring muscles,

the stride lengthening a little now they had reached flatter

ground. Behind them the bulk of the mountains began to shrink

as the ground streamed past around and below. The speed of

their passage created a wind which thrummed against her face

and caught her hair, tearing it free from the golden clasps which

held it, fanning the thick, black tresses and sending them to

stream like a silken pennant from the rounded contour of her

head.

"On!" she urged. "On, girl! On!"

The sound of her voice acted as had the whip and spurs. Foam

flew from the muzzle and the lungs strained in the barrel of the

chest. A machine, bred and trained for strength, speed and

obedience, the animal raced through the thickening darkness

towards the haven which alone could save it. On its back the

woman, sensing its fear and terror, conscious of her own, bit at

her lower lip until blood stained her chin, the gleaming white

perfection of her teeth.

Ellman's Rest, a gnarled and oddly shaped mass of wood and

stone, the great tree surrounded by the rock which it had

shattered by the relentless fury of its growth, appeared on her

right. Wisps of night-mist wreathed it, tattered veils which

blurred detail so that for a moment she thought it was a creature

of the unknown standing with outstretched arms to snatch her

from the back of her mount, to crush her, to rend the limbs from

her body and to tear free her internal organs. A moment of

illusion, then the thing was behind and now only a few miles lay

between her and the castle.

"We're winning," she said to the laboring animal. "Keep it up,

girl. We're winning!"

The suns were behind her, the magenta and violet, their discs

blended, now both below the horizon. Night was closing in,

limiting her vision so that it was impossible to make out detail

more than a few feet to either side, a little more ahead. Before

her the trail wound like a snake, the narrow path curving

between boulders, around looming mounds, straightening only

to twist again. A bad road to take at speed even in the full light

of day. One suicidal to attempt at a gallop on the edge of night.

"On, girl! On!"

The crest lay ahead, beyond it the curve, then the slope and, at

last, a clear view of the castle. Once past the crest the road ran

downhill and, beyond the curve, it was wide and evenly smooth.

A place maintained for racing but never before had she raced

with such determination to win. She would, she thought as they

neared it, set a new record. Certainly it would be one which she

never intended to break under similar circumstances.

Then, as something moved in the dimness, the animal shied.

There had been no warning, no intimation and, lulled by the

nearing safety, she had relaxed a little. Too late she grabbed at

the reins, felt the animal rear, and then was falling, hurtling

through the air to land with a bone-jarring thud, her vision laced

with darting flashes. As they cleared she rose and looked around.

The animal had fallen and lay, screaming, on the dirt.

"It's hurt," said Charles. He stood at her side and looked at the

stricken beast. "A broken leg, see?"

She didn't need the guidance of his pointing finger to discover

the injury.

"Something frightened it. An animal of some kind crossing

the trail." His voice was soft, even. "Nothing you need worry

about. But the animal—you'll have to kill it."

The mare was young, healthy, a magnificent specimen of her

species. She could be drugged, the leg mended with internal

splints.

"You'll have to kill her," insisted Charles. "It's too dark to do

anything else. You know that. You have no choice. At least be

kind."

To the animal and then, perhaps, to herself. She looked

around, shivering, feeling the skin crawl on her back and

shoulders. The pull and drag of her loose tresses felt like hands

tugging at her scalp. Their touch rasped dust and dirt over her

tunic, little scraping sounds which, because near, rose above the

screaming of the beast.

"Steady, girl!" She took small steps forward, talking, smiling

as she spoke, one hand behind her, the fingers lifting the

compact laser from her belt. "Steady, girl! Steady!"

The animal looked at her, eyes rolling, ears pricked, teeth

bared in fright and pain. She stepped closer, kneeled beside the

head, lifted the laser to rest its muzzle within the confines of an

ear.

"Now," said Charles firmly. "Now!"

A click and it was done, the beam drilling through flesh and

E. C. Tubb - Dumarest 16 - Haven of Darkness.pdf

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