“I think perhaps you’ll make a gun-boy yet, Jongo,” he said. “You were a bit slow coming up, but you held steady as a rock during the charge.”
And for some reason I felt kind of ashamed of myself, knowing how it had really been.
5
Lord Desroy spent a quarter of an hour taking movies of the dead animals; then we made the hike back to the car.
“We were lucky, Desroy,” Sir Orfeo told him as we settled into our seats. “Takes a bit of doing to knock over a fine brace on the first stalk! I suggest we go back to the yacht now and call it a day—”
“What foolery’s this?” Lord Desroy boomed out. “Wi’ a foison o’ quarry to hand, ye’d skulk back to thy comforts wi’out further sweat or endeavor?”
“No use pushing our luck—”
“Prithee, spare! Ye spoke but now of bull-devil, lurking in the crags yonder—”
“Plenty of time to go after them later.” Orfeo was still smiling, but there was an edge to his voice. He didn’t like to have anyone argue with him about a hunt.
“A pox on’t!” Lord Desroy slammed his fist down on the arm of his chair. “Dost dream I’d loiter in my chambers with game abounding? Drive on, I say, or I’ll take the tiller self!”
Sir Orfeo slapped the drive lever in and the engines started up with a howl.
“I was thinking of the Lady Raire,” he said. “If you’re that dead-set on running us all ragged, very well! Though what the infernal rush is, I’m sure I don’t know!”
As usual, the Lady Raire sat by quietly, looking cool and calm and too beautiful to be real. Lord Desroy got out a silver flask and poured out yellow wine for her and himself, then lolled back in his chair and gazed out at the landscape rushing past.
An hour brought us to the foothills of the range that had been visible from the yacht. The going was rougher here; we switched over to tracks for the climb. Lord Orfeo had quit humming to himself and was beginning to frown, as if maybe he was thinking about how nice it would be to be back in his apartment aboard the yacht, having a bath and a nice dinner, instead of being in for another four hours, minimum, in the car.
We came out on a high plateau, and Sir Orfeo pulled the car in under a steep escarpment and opened up and climbed down without a word to anybody. I had his crater-rifle ready for him; I took the other guns and got out and Lord Desroy looked around and said something I didn’t catch.
“They’re here, right enough,” Sir Orfeo answered him, sounding mad. He walked off and Lord Desroy and the girl trailed. I had to scramble up on rough ground to get to my proper position off to Sir Orfeo’s right. He was headed into a narrow cut that curved up and away in deep shadow. The sun still seemed to be in the same spot, directly overhead. My suit kept me comfortable enough, but the heat reflecting back from the stone scalded my face.
Sir Orfeo noticed me working my way along up above him and snarled something about where the devil did I think I was going; I didn’t try to answer that. I’d gotten myself onto a ledge that ran along twenty feet above the trail, with no way down. I stayed abreast of Sir Orfeo and looked for my chance to rejoin the party.
We kept going this way, nobody talking, the happy look long gone from Lord Desroy’s face now, the Lady Raire walking just to his left, Sir Orfeo out in front twenty paces. The trail did a sharp jog to the left, and I had to scramble to catch up; as I did, I saw something move on the rocks up ahead.
Being above the rest of them, I had a view past the next outcropping that hung out over the trail; the movement I saw was just a flicker of something in the shadows, spread but flat on the rock like a giant leech. I felt my heart take a jump and jam itself up in my throat and I tried to yell and choked and tried again:
“Sir Orfeo! Up ahead! On the right!”
He stopped dead, swung his gun around and up, at the same time motioned to the others to halt. Lord Desroy checked for just a moment; then he started on up toward Sir Orfeo. The animal—creature—thing—whatever it was—moved again. Now I could see what looked like an eye near the front, surrounded by a fringe of stiff reddish hairs. I got just the one quick look before I heard the whisper of a Z-gun from below, and the thing jerked back violently and disappeared into black shadow. Down below, Lord Desroy was lowering his gun.
“Well, that tears it!” Sir Orfeo said in a too loud voice. “Nice bit of shooting, Desroy! You failed to keep to your position, fired without my permission, and then succeeded in wounding the beggar! Anything else you’d care to try before we go into that cranny after him?”
“Methinks you skirt insolence, Orfeo,” Lord Desroy started.
“Not intentionally, as I’m damned!” Orfeo’s face was red; I could see the flush from where I was perched, twenty feet above him. “I’ll remind you I’m master of the hunt, I’m responsible for the safety of the party—”
“I’m out of patience wi’ cautious counsel!” Lord Desroy roared. “Shall I be merely cheated o’ my sport whilst I attend your swoons?”
Sir Orfeo stared to answer that, then caught himself and laughed.
“‘Pon my word, you have a way about you, Milord! Now, I suggest we give over this tomfoolery and give a thought to how we’re going to get him out of there!” He turned and squinted up toward the place where the thing had disappeared.
“I warrant ye make mockery of me,” Lord Desroy growled. He jerked his head in my direction. “Despatch yon natural to draw forth the beast!” Sir Orfeo looked up, too, then back at his boss.
“The boy’s new, untrained,” he said. “That’s a risky bit of business—”
“D’ye aver thy gun-boy lacks spirit, then?”
Sir Orfeo gave me a sharp look. “By no means,” he said. “He’s steady enough. Jongo!” His voice changed tone. “Press on a few yards, see if you can rout the blighter out.”
I didn’t move. I just squatted where I was and stared down at him. The next instant, something smashed against the wall beside my head and knocked me sprawling. I came up spitting dust, with my head ringing, and Lord Desroy’s second shot crashed close enough to drive stone chips into my cheek.
“Sir Orfeo!” I got the yell out. “He’s shooting at me!”
I heard Sir Orfeo shout and I rolled over and looked for a hole to dive into and in that instant saw the wounded leech-thing flow down across the rock, disappear for a second behind a spur, come into view again just above the trail, about thirty feet above Lord Desroy, between him and the Lady Raire. It must have made some sound I couldn’t hear; before I could shout, Lord Desroy whirled and brought his gun up and it crackled and vivid shadows winked on the rocks and the animal leaped out and down, broad as a blanket, leathery dark, right into the gun. Lord Desroy stood his ground, firing steadily into the leech-thing until the instant it struck full on him, covering him completely. It gathered itself together and lurched toward the Lady Raire, standing all alone in the trail, sixty feet behind where I was. As it moved, it left a trail of what was left of Lord Desroy.
Sir Orfeo had fired once, while the thing was in the air. He ran toward it, stopped and took aim and fired again. I saw a movement off to the right, up the trail, and a second leech-thing was there, coming up fast behind Sir Orfeo, big as a hippopotamus, wide and flat and with its one eye gleaming green.
I yelled. He didn’t look up, just stood where he was, his back to the leech, firing, and firing again. The wounded leech was close to the Lady Raire now, and I saw then that she had no gun, and I remembered that Lord Desroy had taken it and had been carrying it for her. She stood there, facing the thing, while Sir Orfeo poured the fire into it. At each shot, a chunk flew from its back, but it never slowed—and behind Sir Orfeo the other one was closing the gap. Sir Orfeo could have turned his fire on it and saved himself; but he never budged. I realized I was yelling at the top of my lungs, and then I remembered I had a gun, too, slung across my back to free my hands for climbing. I grabbed for it, wasted a second or more fumbling with it, got it around and to my shoulder and aimed and couldn’t find the firing stud and had to lower it and look and brought it up again and centered it on the thing only yards from Sir Orfeo’s exposed back and squeezed—