The second Rakasha shot high into the air, wheeled and vanished.
They ran along the trail, heading toward the valley that held the chariot. By the time they reached it, the Rakasha had returned.
“Kali and Yama and Agni descend,” he stated. “Shiva stays behind, holding the corridor. Agni leads the pursuit. The One in Red helps the goddess, who is limping.”
Before them, in the valley, lay the thunder chariot. Slim and unadorned, the color of bronze, though it was not bronze, it stood upon a wide, grassy plain. It looked like a fallen prayer tower or a giant’s house key or some necessary part of a celestial instrument of music that had slipped free of a starry constellation and dropped to the ground. It seemed to be somehow incomplete, although the eye could not fault its lines. It held that special beauty that belongs to the highest orders of weapons, requiring function to make it complete.
Sam moved to its side, found the hatch, entered.<.p>
<.p>“You can operate this chariot. Binder?” asked Taraka. “Make it race through the heavens, spitting destruction across the land?”
“I’m sure Yama would keep the controls as simple as possible. He streamlines whenever he can. I’ve flown the jets of Heaven before, and I’m banking that this is of the same order.”
He ducked into the cabin, settled into the control seat and stared at the panel before him.
“Damn!” he announced, his hand starting forward and twitching back.
The other Rakasha appeared suddenly, passing through the metal wall of the ship and hovering above the console.
“The gods move rapidly,” he announced. “Particularly Agni.”
Sam snapped a series of switches and pressed a button. Lights came on all over the instrument panel and a humming sound began within it.
“How far is he?” asked Taraka.
“Almost halfway down. He widened the trail with his flames. He runs upon it now, as if it were a roadway. He burn obstacles. He makes a clear path.”
Sam drew back on a lever and adjusted a dial, reading the indicators before him. A shudder ran through the ship.
“Are you ready?” asked Taraka.
“I can’t take off cold. It has to warm up. Also, this instrument board is trickier than I’d thought.”
“We run a close race.”
“Yes.”
From the distance, there came the sounds of several explosions rising above the growing growl of the chariot. Sam pulled the lever forward another notch, readjusted the dial.
“I go to slow them,” said the Rakasha, and vanished as he had come.
Sam drew the lever two notches farther, and somewhere something sputtered and died. The ship stood silent once more.
He pushed the lever back into its former position, spun the dial, pushed the button again.
And again a shudder ran through the chariot, and somewhere a purring began. Sam drew the lever one notch forward, adjusted the dial.
After a moment, he repeated it, and the purr became a soft growl
“Gone,” said Taraka. “Dead.”
“Who? What?”
“The one who went to stop the Lord of Flames. He failed.”
There were more explosions.
“Hellwell is being destroyed,” said Taraka.
Perspiration upon his brow, Sam waited with his hand on the lever.
“He comes now—Agni!”
Sam looked through the long, slanted shield plate.
The Lord of Flames came into the valley.
“Good-bye, Siddhartha.”
“Not yet,” said Sam.
Agni looked at the chariot, raised his wand.
Nothing happened.
He stood, pointing the wand; and then he lowered it, shook it.
He raised it once more.
Again, no flame issued forth.
He reached behind his neck with his left hand, performed some adjustment upon his pack. As he did this, light streamed from the wand, burning a huge pit in the ground at his side.
He pointed the wand again.
Nothing.
Then he began running toward the ship.
“Electrodirection?” asked Taraka.
“Yes.”
Sam drew back upon the lever, adjusted the dial farther. A huge roaring grew about him. He pressed another button and there came a crackling sound from the rear of the vessel. He moved another dial as Agni reached the hatch.
There was a flash of flame and a metallic clanging.
He rose from his seat and moved out of the cabin and into the corridor.