Outside the wall, something long and pointed, the shape of a spearhead, gray in color, was descending from the sky. It was like a gliding bird, but smoother and straighter in its lines, and much larger—a metal bird such as the Oldworlders spoke of. Others had told of seeing such things in the sky recently, but never this close to the caves. Jemmo had never observed one personally. It moved slowly along the far side of the wall, following its line, as if searching the ground inside. Then it made a sudden move closer, bringing it immediately above the wall, at the same time swinging around to point toward where Jemmo and the others were standing. Jemmo had the eerie feeling that it was searching him out personally. Cold fingers of the fear that comes from confrontation with the totally unknown clawed in his stomach. But he forced them back down and strode several paces forward to glower up at the object defiantly. “My war club!” he called to Iyala, his henchman, who was never far away. “Summon spearmen and archers.” But Iyala was already giving the orders.
As warriors began arriving, consternation broke out anew among the onlookers. Four more shapes were approaching fast, coming in over the swamplands in a tight group. They were even larger than the metal bird. They swooped on over the wall with a roaring noise and descended toward the area of ground immediately in front of Jemmo and the assembling warriors, causing the people around them to fall back, and then break and flee in fear. Two of the birds were larger than the other two. One of the larger and one smaller came down ahead, the others a short distance behind them. Openings appeared in the sides, from which figures poured at a run. Figures wielding guns! Before Jemmo could even take in what was happening, they were spreading out quickly on either side. . . . He watched in a daze as his personal guards ran forward and were shot down without even slowing the pace of the attackers. Then a tightly grouped formation emerged in the center, coming straight at him. Jemmo knew he was defenseless, that there could be no resistance. But his pride refused to let him budge. He tightened his grip on his club and brought it back determinedly.
But then, he realized, it was over. While the flanking parties waved back the remaining guards, who had also seen the futility of opposing, the center group converged upon him, covering him with their guns but staying out of his reach. He wouldn’t have survived making one false move in any case, even if they came closer.
And then the ranks opened and a figure came through at a shuffling gait, dragging one leg, wearing a strange headdress and sleeveless jacket of thick Oldworlder material. He was also carrying a gun, but slung across his shoulder was a vicious edged club of Oldworld metal that Jemmo had seen before. His face was a mask of gloating delight. He had been waiting a long time for this.
“Will you hand over your weapon like a warrior who accepts defeat?” he asked. “Or would you be seen to have it taken from you like a child?”
Rakki had returned for his revenge.
* * *
Heeland was bringing the probe in high, using its wide-scan imager to view the general area. He reported that the analyzers had picked up the signature of another probe circling close in below at not much above ground level; it wasn’t being controlled from the Varuna and must have been sent by the ground-control operation at Serengeti, which Zeigler’s people had taken over. He had located the four flyers at the edge of some broken highlands, where the ground below sloped away toward a low-lying region of lakes and swamps. They didn’t seem to be moving. The zoom cursor centered on them, and the view expanded.
“Still can’t see anything,” Keene croaked, fumbling the handset in his frozen hands.
“I’m taking it down lower, coming out more to change the angle,” Heeland’s voice said from the unit. “It looks like they’ve landed. . . . They’re at the bottom of a line of cliffs, inside some kind of perimeter that doesn’t look natural.” Keene could just make it out on his tiny screen—an embankment or wall curving out for some distance and then back again to form an enclosed area against the face. “I think there are caves there,” Heeland said. “Huts, people . . . It’s some kind of settlement with a wall around. . . .”