Prison of Night

He took the lead, riding low, lifting the raft barely enough to skim the massive boulders and summits of hills. Behind him the half-dozen men forming his unit crouched low and remained silent. Those in Gartok's raft did the same. A small defense but it helped, sound and the glint of sunlight from equipment could attract instant attention where the soft, ground-hugging approach of the rafts need not.

A crevass drifted past below, a rounded jumble of boulders like the marbles tossed by a child tired of its play, a patch of gnarled vegetation. A turn into a narrow pass, a lift, a long, slow passage over the contours of rolling hills and then, at full speed, a downward glide to where a long, dark building showed against the ocher dirt.

"Out!" Dumarest hit the ground and rolled to the cover of a rock as his men obeyed. "Cover!"

He loped forward, dropped, signaled with a sweep of his arm, waited as shapes scuttled past to drop in turn while he searched the area ahead with narrowed eyes, rifle poised to fire.

Nothing.

The building was silent, the area around void of any trace of life. Gartok, landing to one side, lifted his helmeted head.

"Nothing, Earl. The place is deserted."

"Be careful!"

Men could be waiting, traps set, even now fingers closing on triggers ready to loose a storm of fire. Yet if present those men remained invisible and instinct gave no warning. There was no movement aside from that caused by a sudden flurry of wind; little plumes of dust rising from the acrid soil.

"I'm going in." Gartok rose to his feet. "Cover me."

Dumarest moved so as to increase his field of view. He saw the mercenary step cautiously towards the building, dodge around a corner, vanish. A moment later he reappeared, waving.

"A bust," he said as Dumarest came close. "The place is empty. You guessed wrong."

Not wrong-they had arrived too late. Kneeling Dumarest looked over the floor seeing the marks of booted feet and trails of dragged equipment. The doors had been open and wind would have carried dust to hide the marks had they not been recent. And a pot of coffee resting on a stove was still hot.

"Warned!" Gartok slammed his hand against the pot and sent it flying to fall in a pool of steaming liquid. "Someone ordered them out, but why? If they had known we were coming they would have had us in a trap. If not why the move?"

Khaya Taiyuah brought the answer, landing an hour after their return to the castle, arriving as the suns were low and curfew was near. He was distraught, waving aside the wine Lavinia offered to him as he was ushered into the great hall. Waiting only for the servant to leave he said, abruptly, "You must yield. You must end the war."

"What?"

"I bear an ultimatum. I had no choice, to have refused was to have lost my worms." Bitterly he added, "For the shame I ask your forgiveness. You are not a coward. But the conflict must cease."

Dumarest said, "The terms?"

"Lavinia must yield and you must be handed over as a prisoner. You will not be harmed-that is a promise. All other prisoners will be exchanged. No compensation will be demanded other than the cost of the forces involved. If you refuse then Belamosk and other castles will be destroyed. My worms-" He gulped. "The work of a lifetime will be destroyed. Everything will be lost. Everything."

He sat, a man suddenly older than his years, this time not refusing the wine Lavinia set at his side. As he reached for it Roland said, "The castle! What can we do?"

"Fight!" Gartok snarled his impatience. "So we lose worms and collect bruises but that is war. An all-out offensive starting at first-light. Every raft and man to sweep the surrounding countryside and find those launchers."

An empty defiance. If Tomir had obtained the services of a cyber the outcome of the situation would already have been predicted and it was obvious what that would be. Pressure exerted on Lavinia to yield. More to have him handed over as a prisoner. The price of survival and who would resist? Taiyuah afraid for his precious worms? Navalok? Alcorus? Suchong? They would kill him to preserve their castles. Roland?

"You can't resist," he said. "The very thought of it is madness. They'll destroy the castle."

A bluff, but he didn't know that and could never be convinced. Dumarest knew better. The Cyclan wanted him alive for the secret he carried in his brain. The reason the stop-over had been deserted, why no shots had been fired at the rafts, why the missiles had fallen well clear of the walls.

The promise would be honored. For how long was another matter.

"Earl?" Lavinia stared at him, her eyes wide. "What can we do? What do you want us to do?"

"It doesn't depend on Earl," said Roland quickly. "It's up to you to decide. If you agree to yield the war will be over. There will be peace. And what choice have you?"

"Earl?"

"We can fight." He glanced at the woman. "We could even win if you're willing to take the gamble."

"How?"

He said, flatly, "We ask the Sungari to help us."