“And what, my lad, is the Time of the Great Uprooting?” Doc asked.
“Death time,” Tarragon said. “When all shall be consumed”
“They come,” Jak said when he returned. “Find out we not in cave and rush in.”
“Enough questions, Doc,” Ryan stated. “You can try again later. We’re taking the boy with us.” He motioned with the pistol, indicating Tarragon should move forward with J.B.
The boy stumbled slightly as he went, but managed a good pace. Ryan felt bad for the kid. He was banged up and hurting, that was obvious. But leaving him there for the other Celts to find was a death sentence. And the one-eyed man thought grimly, just maybe they could work out a trade for Mildred. Whatever troubles the kid had, they were mostly his and none of their affair.
“Who’s he?” Jak asked from the back.
“Name’s Tarragon,” Ryan explained. “He’s one of them.”
“Tarragon eh? Man chilled by that big long-hair say they looking for a boy named Tarragon.”
“It makes you wonder what’s so important about him, doesn’t it?” Krysty asked.
Truth was, Ryan admitted, it did.
A VLINDING WHITENESS met them on the other end of the fissure. Ryan looked over the terrain, unconsciously pulling his coat tighter as the wind ripped over him. This side of the mountain hadn’t seen the sun yet, and dark purple shadows lay across days-old snow, protecting it. During the night a layer of ice had formed, making a crust.
“How’d you get in the fissure?” Ryan asked the Celtic boy.
“I walked over the top,” Tarragon said.
“You knew the cave was here?”
The boy nodded.
“Pepper and his bunch know?” Ryan asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Why didn’t you come in the front?”
“I knew you were there.”
“How?” Ryan asked. “Did you see us?”
Tarragon shrugged, his eyes holding the glaze of fever. “I just knew, is all.”
“Fireblast,” Ryan said. He looked at the others. “Before we make it to the bottom, that bunch of coldhearts will be heating up our backtrail and picking us off. We try to make a stand here, hold them back in the tunnel, we’re only fighting a delaying action. And if they come over the top of the mountain like the boy did, we’re in trouble.”
“Then we’re going to have to get to the bottom of the mountain quicker, lover.” Krysty reached into her pack and pulled out one of the lightweight blankets. “These are water-repellent. Bet they’re awfully slick against that layer of frost and snow.” She held up the blanket.
“Guess we’re going to find out,” Ryan said.
There wasn’t any special skill needed in navigating the mountainside of snow, the companions discovered. They gripped the blankets tight as they could in two fists and threw themselves forward. Gravity and the lack of friction did the rest.
Krysty went first, spread-eagled across the blanket as it glided across the uneven snow. She managed to keep from smashing against the outcrops that thrust through the layer of snow and ice, then vanished into the forest. When she reappeared and waved that she was okay, Jak and Doc were already in motion.
Ryan ordered Tarragon to go next, letting him use Mildred’s blanket. The boy seemed a little reluctant. Then J.B. said he heard movement coming from the fissure. Ryan heard, it, too, and spun to face the approach of the attackers.
“If you’re going to go,” the one-eyed man said, “you better get to it. Don’t look like we’re going to be waiting.”
The boy nodded, then held the blanket before him and fell forward. He slipped across the icy crust at once.
“You next,” J.B. said.
“Don’t waste time,” Ryan advised. Agreeing was faster than arguing, and there was no reason for the Armorer to go next any more than him.
“Be the next breath drawn behind you,” J.B. said.
Ryan leathered the blaster and glanced down the incline.
Tarragon was halfway down the mountainside, gaining speed, arms and legs waving frantically as he struggled to stay on top of the blanket. Out of control, he couldn’t veer away from a rotted log canted up out of the snow like an arrow shot into the side of the mountain. The impact had to have temporarily knocked the boy senseless, because he lay motionless, sprawled on the blanket.