The Andre Norton Megapack - 15 Classic Novels and Short Stories

braced against the Terran’s shoulder as he half supported, half embraced the Foanna.
    “Ynvalda!” Ashe called that with an urgency which was demanding. Now the Foanna moved, raising an arm in the cloak’s flowing sleeve.
    Ross sat back on his heels.
    “Ross—Ashe?” He turned his head. Karara stood here, then came forward, planting her feet with care, her hands outstretched, her eyes wide and unseeing. Ross pulled himself up and went to her, finding that the once solid floor seemed to dip and sway under him, until he, too, must balance and creep. His hands closed on her shoulders and he pulled her to him in mutual support.
    “Gordon?”
    “Over there. You all right?”
    “I think so.” Her voice was weak. “The Foanna…Ynlan…Ynvalda—” Steadying herself against him, she tried to look around.
    The place which had once been a narrow room, then a balcony, was now a perch above stomach-turning space. The hall of the oval mirrors was gone, having disappeared into a hollow the depths of which were veiled by a vapor which boiled and bubbled as if, far below, some huge caldron hung above a blazing fire.
    Karara cried out and Ross drew her back from that drop. He was clearer-headed now and looked about for some way down from this doubtful perch. Of the other two Foanna there was no sign. Had they been sucked up and out in the inferno they had created with their unleashing of energy against the Baldies’ installation?
    “Ross—look!” Karara’s cry, her upflung arm directed his attention aloft.
    Under the sullen gathering of the storm a sphere arose as a bubble might seek the surface of a pool before breaking. A ship—a Baldy ship taking off from the ruined citadel! So some of the enemy had survived that trial of strength!
    The globe was small, a scout used for within-atmosphere exploration, Ross judged. It arose first, and then moved inland, fleeing the gathering storm, to be out of sight in moments. Inland, where the mountain base of the invaders was reputed to be. Retreating? Or bound to gather reinforcements?
    “Baldies?” Karara asked.
    “Yes.”
    She wiped her hand across her face, smearing dust and grime on her cheeks. As raindrops pattered about them, Ross drew the girl with him into the alcove where Ashe sheltered with the Foanna. The cowled alien was sitting up, her hand still gripping one of the wands, now a half-melted ruin.
    Ashe glanced at them as if for the first time he remembered they might be there.
    “Baldy ship just took off inland,” Ross told him. “We didn’t see either of the other Foanna.”
    “They have gone to do what is to be done,” Ashe’s companion replied. “So some of the enemy fled. Well, perhaps they have learned one lesson, not to meddle with others’ devices. Ahh, so much gone which will never come again! Never again—”
    She held up the half-melted wand, turning it back and forth before her, before she cast it away. It flew out, up, then dropped into the caldron of the hall which had been. A gust of rain, cold, chilling the lightly clad Terrans, swept across them.
    The Foanna was helped to her feet by Ashe. For a moment she turned slowly, giving a lingering look to the ruins. Then she spoke: “Broken stone holds no value. Take hands, my brothers, my sister, it is time we go hence.”
    Karara’s hand in Ross’s right, Ashe’s in his left, and both linked to Ynvalda in turn. Then—they were indeed elsewhere, in a courtyard where bodies lay flaccid under the drenching downpour of the rain. And moving among those bodies were the two other Foanna, bending to examine one man after another. Perhaps over one in three they so inspected they held consultation before a wand was used in tracing certain portions of the body between them. When they were finished, that man stirred, moaned, showed signs of life once more.
    “Rosss—!” From behind a tumbled wall crept a Hawaikan who did not wear the guard armor of the others. Gill-pack, flippers, diver’s belt, had been stripped from him. There was a bleeding gash down the side of his face, and he held his left arm against his body, supported by his right hand.
    “Baleku!”
    The Rover pulled himself up to his feet and stood swaying. Ross reached him quickly to catch him as he slumped forward.
    “Loketh?” the Terran asked.
    “The women-killers took him.” Somehow the Rover got that out as Ross half supported, half led him to where the Foanna were gathering those they had been able to revive. “They