Chapter 9: DronntaCity, Dronnta

The ancient roadway swung in lazy curves as it edged gradually farther up the slope of the broad river valley. They left the fort as soon as it was light, and by the time they were ready to stop for their noon meal, they were once again traveling across a high level plain carpeted with ferns and mosses.

In the weeks that had passed since the time of the great storm, the clouds had grown ever thicker, the rains heavier, the patches of lavender sky smaller and less frequent. Now, the weather was back to normal for EssChad. Reddish sunlight filtered through a dense layer of clouds. Frequent showers were mixed with periods of light drizzle, becoming cooler as the plains sloped gradually upward toward the northeast.

"Doesn't anybody live in this country?" Pete asked after a second day had passed with no sign of civilization.

"Not permanently," Dron replied. "A few herds of meat animals pasture here, followed by wandering herdsmen. The plants grow too sparsely to support steady grazing, and this high plateau country is too cold for most people."

His explanation was interrupted by a grunting scream, echoing from ahead and to one side of the road. Hurtling toward them from out of a shallow ravine came a creature that struck terror to their hearts.

"Strider!" yelled Pete. "Scatter!"

The humans, no longer burdened by heavy packs, easily avoided the strider's ponderous rush, but Dron and his soldiers were in trouble. Weighted down by heavy packs, and rendered sluggish by the cold and the thin air, they simply couldn't move fast enough to escape the charging monster.

Dropping to one knee, and calling to Amy and Lyssa to do the same, he loosed burst after burst of rifle fire at the head and neck of the strider. With a shout of triumph, he saw the monster veer off to the side as a stream of tiny slugs ripped into the side of its head, blinding it in one eye. Concentrating his fire on the soft underside of its neck, he fired in short bursts until the magazine of his rifle was empty.

He quickly jammed another magazine into place. Jumping to his feet, he ran to a better position. The strider came to a wavering halt, clawing madly at its head and neck. He waited until the monstrous head was still for an instant.

He and Amy fired at the same time, destroying the strider's other eye. Blinded, pumping blood from cratered wounds, it screamed again. Lurching away, it staggered off across the plain to become food for smaller creatures.

Pete raised his rifle to try for a finishing shot, but lowered it without firing. It was more important to save his ammunition.

"Nancy! Are you all right? The rest of you?"

Finding them all safe, he walked back to where Dron was checking on his men.

"Are you all well?" he called.

"Thanks to you and your friends, we are. Those are mighty weapons that you carry. My men didn't get off a single shot. We would all have been eaten, if it hadn't been for you."

The soldiers, who had been somewhat wary of these small beings, hissed their agreement.

"It is partly that we are not as slowed by cold as you," Pete answered. "I am glad that we were along. I didn't expect to see one of those monsters here, where food is so scarce."

"Nor did I. It must have wandered up here by accident. They don't often attack people, but this one must have been mad with hunger."

"Hey, Pete!" Charley called. "C'mere. Lookit what I found."

"What is it?" He trotted over to the side of the dry wash where the strider had been lurking.

"Down there. I've got a mean, nasty, suspicious mind, and I'll be the first to admit it, but all them there bones never came from just one animal." He pointed to a rotting heap of bones and meat fragments. "There's chunks off'n two or three critters down there, or I'm a blooming idjit. We was set up!"

"What is this?" Dron peered over Pete's shoulder.

"Charley says that someone's been feeding that strider to keep it here. It looks to me like he's right. Somebody didn't want any messengers going to or from your fort."

"Charley is certainly right," Dron agreed. "And a nasty trick, too. One that almost worked."

"Do you think we'll hit any more like it?" Amy asked, thinking of their scant store of ammunition.

"Not just like it, no. What we will have to look out for, from now on, is an ambush. We have a low pass to cross that would be the perfect place for them to try something, but I know a way around it. After that, we'll be in farming country where there'll be too many people around, and they won't be able to pull anything that simple."

Sobered by their narrow escape and the chance of more trouble to come, they set off at a swift pace. Another night was spent in a jumble of boulders, far enough from the trail so that they could safely build a small fire.

"Up there, that's where I would expect trouble to be waiting," Dron told them, pointing to where the trail rose swiftly toward the crest of a low range of hills. "Most people don't know that there is another way to get across, but I've had my scouts out over all of this part of Thant. It is longer, and steeper, but not a bad trail. There are almost no good places along it to set up an ambush, either."

They continued along the trail for a few more hours. Then they angled off to the right, heading for where a high ridge loomed faintly through the mists. Soon they were toiling up a smooth open slope that stretched on for mile after mile. Pete lost track of time, but somewhere around the fifth or sixth shower, he realized that the ground no longer rose so steeply ahead of them. The next time a shower hit, he was sure that the rivulets were flowing the same way they were walking. By the time the rain slacked off, he was sure of it.

They had eaten their lunch without stopping, and Dron continued to set a steady pace as the light began to fail. Pete could see well enough to tell that they were on a faint trail once more.

"We're getting someplace," he reassured Nancy, whose face was drawn with fatigue. "Keep going just a little longer."

"I'll be all right," she answered, with a tired smile. "It helps to be going down hill for a change."

Amy and Lyssa made a point of staying close to KeeBar and Thanna, who were suffering more from the cold than the larger Thantans. Steve and Charley stayed close behind them, followed closely by two of Dron's soldiers. The darkness was almost complete when Dron grunted sharply with satisfaction, pointing ahead to where fitful gleams of yellow light flickered. They waited while a soldier scouted ahead, then trudged on. A looming patch of darkness resolved itself into a rough building of stone and logs.

"Ho, the house!" Dron boomed. "Is there any welcome here for weary travelers?"

Chains rattled, and boards scraped. A scaled arm thrust a torch out through a barred window, illuminating the scene below. A fanged muzzle was poked out far enough for one eye to peer down at them, then the door was flung open.

"Prince Dron, by all that's holy!" a hoarse voice bellowed, fairly rattling the walls. "Come in, your Excellency! Quick, now, before the mistdemons sneak in. Wife! Bring out the food and drink, and hide all the serving wenches! It's Prince Dron, with four of his soldiers, and some... well..." His voice trailed off uncertainly as he realized that the creatures with Dron were strange indeed, and Dron hooted with laughter at the expression on his face.

"Halbarzon, you old rascal! Let us in, and I'll tell you a tale that will chip your scales."

He shouldered his way in, followed closely by the humans and his soldiers. Pete saw an old Thantan with agemottled scales, shorter than Dron, but with layers of fat padding what was still a mighty frame. His wife, even plumper, peered fearfully from behind her husband, but Dron's goodhumored introductions soon had their minds at ease. Food and drink appeared with magical speed, and his men did the meal full justice. Dron regaled their host with explanations of the humans' presence, and the misadventures that had brought them to this outoftheway farmstead.

"When Charley pointed out that the strider had been put by the road deliberately, I decided that it was time for us to visit my father's old sergeantatarms, rather than to stick to the main trail. We came all the way across the ridges since morning, eating on the run."

"So, you'd rather not be seen on your way to the city," Halbazon concluded. "'Specially not your little friends, here. Well, I think it can be arranged. I'm about due to go into the village for feed for my beasts, and you can ride that far in my empty trailer. From there, we'll have to see what can be arranged. Your family is well remembered in these parts, and there's a good many who'll help, just so they can say that they helped put old Pleorran down again. Eat some of that good food, before your men finish it all, and the wife'll fix up beds for the lot of you. Ah, your small friends do sleep?"

"We sleep, and we thank you for your kind hospitality," Pete answered him.

"Well, then," Halbarzon stammered, taken somewhat aback by actually talking to one of these strange creatures. "Any friend of Prince Dron is welcome here, and an enemy of Pleorran's is doubly so."

His wife showed them to their beds, huge bags of springy moss. They kicked off their boots and climbed into the huge bedsteads, falling asleep almost instantly.

By the time the rising sun spread its sullen light through layers of dripping clouds, they were many miles from Halbarzon's farm, jouncing slowly along behind a chuffing steam tractor whose high wooden wheels cut fresh ruts in the muddy road. The sides of the trailer were too high to see over, but numerous cracks and knot holes gave them a patchy view of the countryside. Scattered trees lined the dirt road, and crooked fences of logs and piled stones divided fields one from the other.

Occasionally, they passed a cluster of rough buildings where some hardy family scratched a living from the rocky soil. Several times, bent figures raised their heads from following teams of stubbies across a field, calling greetings to Halbarzon. Each time, he would wave and bellow back to them, but made no move to stop and talk.