Sunrise found him still wandering, at a loss for a guide. He had come across two open spaces enclosed by the buildings. They were filled with tangles of vegetation now seared by fall. One surrounded a small lake in which water birds suddenly cried out and rose with a great flapping of wings.
Furtig crouched, startled. Then he realized that he could not have been the reason for that flight. Then—what had?
At that moment he caught the hot scent, rank, overpowering. And he snarled. Ratton! There was no mistaking its foulness. Rations—here? They clung to the lairs of Demons, that was true, yet it was thought they had not spread far through those.
Furtig edged back into the hollow of a doorway. At his back the door itself was a great unbroken solid slab, and it was closed. As it was about six times his own height and gave the appearance of strength, he had no hope of opening it. And if he were sighted, or scented, in this place he would be cornered.
The Rattons did not fight as the People did but more like the Barkers, sending many against one. Though Furtig was much larger than any of their kind, he could not hope to stand up to a whole company of them. His tail twitched sharply as he watched the bushes about the lake and used his nose and ears to aid his eyes in locating the foe.
Though most of the water birds had flown, at least three of their flock were in difficulty. For there was a beating of wings, harsh cries at the far end of the lake. Furtig could not see through the screen of bushes, and he was not about to advance into what might be enemy territory. Suddenly the squawking was cut on, and he thought the hunters must have finished their prey.
His own plans had changed. To go into Ratton-held lairs—no! And he imagined now what might have been Gammage’s fate—well-picked bones!
But could he withdraw without being hunted? Furtig was not sure whether the Rattons hunted by scent or by ear and eye. His only recourse was to befuddle his trail as well as he could. And in the open he could not do that.
Furtig tried feverishly to remember all he had heard concerning the Rattons. Could they leap, climb, follow the People so? Or were they earthbound like the Barkers? It seemed he was soon to prove one or the other.
On either side of the door behind him was a panel in the wall. These were set higher than his head, even when he stretched to his full height. The one to his right was intact. But the other had a break in its covering, leaving only shards of stuff in the frame.
Furtig crouched and leaped. His fighting claws caught on the edge of those shards and they splintered. He kept his hold and kicked his way in. He found himself on a ledge above a dusky floor. It was narrow, but he could balance there long enough to survey what lay beyond.
There were objects standing here and there, a heavy dust covering the floor. He surveyed that with disappointment. Not a track on it. When he dropped he would leave a trail the most stupid tracker could follow. Furtig teetered on the ledge, undecided. The dead air made his nose wrinkle, and he fought the need to sneeze. His half plan now seemed rank folly. Better to stay in the open— He turned his head to look out. There was a flash of movement in the bushes near the door.
Too late! They were already closing in. He needed speed now to reach a place where he could wedge his back as he turned to face his attackers.
He made a second leap from the ledge to the top of one of the objects standing on the floor. His feet plowed into the soft dust and he skidded nearly to its far end, pushing the dust before him, before his claws held fast.
The room had two doors, both open arches, neither barred. What he wanted now was to get to the very top of this lair, and out into the open, where he would perhaps have a bare chance of leaping to the next lair, just as he would leap from tree to tree to escape ground-traveling enemies.
There was little choice between the doors, and in the end he took the nearest. This gave onto a long passage from which opened other doorless rooms—rather like the caves. Save that these promised no security.
Furtig wasted no time exploring, but ran at top speed past those doorless openings to the end of the hall. Here was a door and it was closed. He tried to insert claw tips in the crack he could see and was answered by a slight give. Enough to set him tearing frenziedly at the promise.
When it did open far enough for him to slip his body through, he gave a convulsive start backward. For, opening at his feet, was a deep shaft. There was nothing beyond the door but a hole that might entrap a full-sized bull. In his fear Furtig spat, clawed at the edges of the door.
It was too late. The momentum of his assault on that stubborn barrier pitched him out into empty space. He had closed his eyes in reflex as he went, fear filling him, forcing out sense and reason—
Until he realized that he was not falling like a stone pitched from one of the cave ledges, but drifting downward!
Furtig opened his eyes, hardly aware even now that he was riot on his way to a quick death. It was dark in the shaft, but he could see that he was descending, slowly, as if he rested on some solid surface that was sinking into the foundations of the lair.
Of course it was well known that the Demons commanded many powers. But that they could make thin air support a body! Furtig drew a deep breath and felt his pounding heart lessen its heavy beat a fraction. It was plain he was not going to die, at least not yet, not so long as this mysterious cushion of air held. Thinking about that, he grew fearful again. How long would it hold?
He wondered if he could aid himself in some way. This was almost like being in water. One swam in water. Would the same motions carry one here? Tentatively Furtig made a couple of arm sweeps and found himself closer to the wall of the shaft. He reached it just in time to see the outline of another door, and tried to catch at the thin edge around it with his claws. But those scraped free and he was past before he could make any determined effort. Now he waited, alert to another such chance as he drifted down. Only to be disappointed.
A sound from above! The faint squeal echoed in the shaft. Rattons up there! Probably at the door he had forced open. Would they take to the air after him? Furtig flexed his fingers within the fastening of the claws. He had no liking for the prospect of fighting in mid-air. But if he had no choice he had better be prepared.
However, it seemed that those above were not ready to make such a drastic pursuit. Perhaps if they could not sight him they would believe that he had plunged to death. Unless they, living in the lairs, knew the odd properties of the shaft. If so, would they ambush him on landing?
Alarmed at the thought, Furtig kicked out and thrust closer to the wall, searching as he drifted down for any signs of an anchorage he could use. But he must have waited too long. The walls here were uniformly smooth. And, though he drew the claws despairingly along, hoping to hook in some hole, he heard only the rasping scrape of those weapons, found nothing in which they could root.
He could not judge distance, and time seemed strange too. How long, how far, had he fallen? He had entered the lair at ground level, but this descent must be carrying him far under the surface of the earth.
Though he knew security in caves which reached underground, yet this was something else, and the fear of the unknown was in him.
He was falling faster now! Had that cushion of air begun to fail? Furtig had only time to ready himself for what might be a hard landing before he did land, on a padded surface.
The dark was thick; even his night sight could not serve him. But he could look up the shaft and see the lighter grayish haze of what lay beyond the door he had forced.
Furtig tested the air for Ratton stench but was only a fraction relieved at its absence. There were other smells here, but none he could identify.