Warlock

neophyte-Shaker.
        
        “Fine. I'll slow us up some, but otherwise, everything seems normal.”
        
        “Pain?”
        
        “Surprisingly little,” Gregor said, his arm around Mace's shoulder to support himself.
        
        Sandow knew he was lying. The pain he suffered was there, just beneath the sheen of calm that covered his young face. But the old magician remained silent. There was actually very little they could do for the pain, aside from administering brandy to make the boy less aware of his suffering. If he forced Gregor to admit the extent of his agony, nothing would be gained-and Mace would be made more morose than ever.
        
        “Shaker,” Commander Richter said, laying a hand on the magician's shoulder to gain his attention and, perhaps, to indicate the friendship that had grown between them, an unspoken friendship that needed no words. “Would you come with me a moment?”
        
        “The boy here-” Sandow began, indicating Gregor.
        
        “This will take but a moment,” Richter said.
        
        He led Shaker Sandow to the slumped bodies of the men who had died outside the shielding bamboo with no chance of reaching cover fast enough. They stopped before one hunched form which was balled up more than most. The tangle of clothes and the film of rich blood which covered the man made an identification from the back impossible.
        
        “Who?” the Shaker asked.
        
        Richter stooped and, very gently, turned over the dead man. It was Fremlin, the bird master. Half a dozen shots had struck home through his torso, and his face was blank and empty and dead, dead-though oddly at rest. Beneath him, a partially crushed wicker cage contained the shattered bodies of his last two Squealers.
        
        “He fell on them to protect them, and they were killed anyway, for the bullets went directly through him.”
        
        “I had not yet begun to understand, fully, the relationship of the birds and their master to one another,” Sandow said. “But it was far more than a man and his pets.”
        
        “Legends say the man who loves the Squealers becomes a black bird himself when he dies.”
        
        “Let us hope,” Shaker Sandow said. “It would be fitting for him, not such a waste as it stands now.”
        
        “You realize that now you will be our only eyes in advance of our eyes? Since we've been spotted, they'll send search parties after us to kill the last. Your powers have become invaluable to help us avoid those hunters. Without you, we won't make it.”
        
        “I had realized that. I'll do what I can.”
        
        “Will the wounded boy, your Gregor, make a difference?”
        
        “My powers are strong without him. Indeed, I feel they are now stronger than ever. Perhaps imminent death does something for magic talents that no amount of practice can.”
        
        “I'll detail two men to help Gregor.”
        
        “No,” Sandow said. “I think Mace would rebel at that, He'll want to do it himself.”
        
        Richter nodded. “We have to get moving now,” he said. “We'll be slowed by the wounded. I had thought of putting young Barrister out of his misery. But I keep thinking that if we hang onto him, even if he slows us, we might reach the city. And reaching the city, we might discover some traces of ancient medicine that will heal him. If there are such wonders as flying machines…”
        
        “Two men and a stretcher can move swiftly,” Sandow said, sensing the commander's need. “You've decided correctly. A mercy killing can sometimes become a murder when salvation shows later.”
        
        “Most of the food is in good shape. All the water containers have been punctured, most more than once. We'll have to hope we have water all along the last part of the journey. It can't be far.”
        
        “The sooner we get moving, the safer,” Sandow said. “And, too, the sight of so many dead in such a brutal fashion cannot help but play upon the nerves of those remaining.”
        
        “Forgive my rambling,” Richter said. He began shouting orders to the men, and in a very little time, they entered the bamboo again, moving while the darkness was on their side.
        
        Later in the night, three aircraft passed over them, streaking for the place they had left