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  After a couple of hours of a descent that seemed interminable, he felt rather than saw the paths beneath him start to grow more level. It was only when he realized he was looking straight ahead rather than down to track Jak’s bobbing white mane that he realized that he was now running along the floor of the canyon.

  He relaxed, which was an unwise thing to do, even though it was an unconscious and natural reaction to his sense of relief. Immediately, he stumbled and fell, his foot catching on a rock embedded in the soil. The ground rushed up to meet him at speed as his momentum carried him face-first so that he felt a crunching impact when his face squashed itself against the earth, his glasses flying away from him.

  Cursing, he lifted himself up, his body momentarily aching from the impact and lungs protesting at the way the air had been driven from them by the way his ordnance bag had caught him under the ribs. Groping around in front of him, he managed to recover his glasses. Luckily, they weren’t damaged. He placed them back on the bridge of his nose, thankful that he could still see okay, and that the lenses were in one piece.

  He could also see Jak and Krysty ahead of him. It was then that he looked up and realized that the difficult descent had taken most of the night, and now the first light of dawn was upon them. They had to find shelter, and soon. He risked a glance across the floor of the canyon, and in the distance he could see three specks moving across the ground, parallel to the path forged by Jak and Krysty ahead of him.

  If he could see Ryan, Mildred and Doc in this light, then they could also see him. And that meant, undoubtedly, that anyone who chanced to look down from the city on the ledge would also be able to see the six of them as they moved across the canyon floor.

  J.B. picked up the pace, aiming to catch Jak and Krysty as soon as possible. He could see that the albino teen was searching for a place for them to take shelter during the approaching day. He needed to catch up before Jak actually found one good enough to hide him from the Armorer.

  As he blew hard, gaining ground, he wondered if Ryan was realizing just what a stretch it would be to realize his plan. They were partway there in one night, but they only had one more night to make the target. Once they were up the other side of the canyon wall and on top of the shining palaces, there was nowhere for them to hide. They had to strike immediately, hoping that it was still before the majority of the populace had risen: and hoping, maybe, that they still had the strength after the ordeal of making that last stretch.

  * * *

  RYAN WAS CURSING as he curled into the uncomfortable ridges of the stone hollow that he, Mildred and Doc were using as their hide until the light began once more to fade.

  How many hours they would have to lie here, hidden and cramped, before they could cover the second half of the ground between themselves and the city of light was a matter that occupied the very forefront of his mind. Making it this far had been tiring in itself. To cover that distance was hard enough. To try to do it over unfamiliar territory and in the dark made it even harder. Each of them had fallen several times, and Ryan could feel the warm trickle of blood here and there from the small cuts and contusions that had come with each tumble. Each pulled and torn muscle would soon start to stiffen up. To have to lie in this place would only make it worse.

  He was sure that there would be no patrols from the mysterious palaces during the remainder of the day. But if they moved out of the cover they had found, then they would be in plain sight of the populace as they went about their tasks up on the ledge. Now, Ryan was sure that they were all moving in some kind of drugged or hypnotic trance, but not so much that half a dozen people moving across an otherwise barren landscape wouldn’t be noticeable.

  The companions would have to stay there, secreted away in a position that could only impair their chances of making the second half of the journey without problems.

  The sun continued to beat down. The only good thing about their having to stay in cover was that the heat wouldn’t deplete them even further. Although the floor of the canyon took them deep down, it was as though the bleached stone on the side of the canyon where the palaces lay acted like a mirror that reflected and magnified the heat, pushing it down into the depths where they now lay, so that it was trapped.

  Heat was supposed to rise, Ryan thought. Yeah, right… That was why he was sweating so that it dripped into his eye, stinging like a bastard, and why it chilled him every time he raised a cramped arm to wipe it away.

  Time crawled by. Mildred and Doc were visible to him, and they communicated in a series of whispers. Even though they were some distance from the city of light, they were wary of how sound traveled across the empty space. So they kept their voices low and their communication to a minimum. They would try to rest as much as possible, and at the same time take turns on watch.

  The day passed painfully slow. Doc could be heard gently snoring at one point, awakening himself with a grunt and a muttered apology. Ryan slept fitfully, dreaming odd dreams that were disturbing enough to jolt him awake so that he found himself staring wildly around, for a moment unsure of his surroundings.

  As the sun crept across the sky and the shadows crept equally across the floor of the canyon, the intense heat started to subside, although there was still enough to make them feel as though they were baking. Above them, Ryan could hear the city halt when it came to the time for another blood sacrifice to whatever gods or forces demanded the chilling of a youth. Then there were the mundane and indistinct sounds of the rest of the day’s business, which gradually wound to a close as the darkness and the first whispers of cool night air began to seep down to them.

  Just that alone made Ryan feel refreshed. His limbs still ached and cramped, and the desultory sleep had done little to wash away the tiredness that crept through every vein, but even so just the fact that they were now able to come out from their hiding place and begin the second leg of their mission was enough.

  He had wondered how J.B. and the others had been faring during the day. Little better than his people, he was pretty sure. Mildred had been complaining with the occasional low grumble about both the long wait and how uncomfortable she felt. Doc had said little, but the tone of his voice on those few words uttered had spoken all that needed to be said.

  Ryan had tried a few times to get a look out from their shelter and across the space between where his people lay, and where he was pretty certain that J.B. and the others had landed. There was little between them in which to hide, and he was certain that the only glimpse he had caught of their movement would place them by the creek that wound across the canyon floor. But despite that, his view was too oblique or their place of hiding was too well chosen, for he had been unable to catch even the slightest flicker of movement.

  Which was little more than he would expect.

  So he was both pleased and frustrated as he led his people out into the cold and dark night, sure now that they were safe from prying eyes. There was no nocturnal patrol, and the silence from the palaces above betrayed the secure and steady habits of the inhabitants of the shining white city. Even as they emerged into the night, Ryan could look up and see the mysterious palaces shine like polished bone in the moonlight.

  With the windows shaping darkness within the light, the buildings seemed to form faces so that they were like skulls grinning gap-toothed down onto the six who would seek to go against them.

  For a second Ryan stood silently, looking up and wondering just what it was they were really fighting: was it just the will of a bunch of people who had lived too long in a rad-blasted zone that had enabled them to become muties who could make their beliefs seem real? Or was there something else at the back of it, something that had a real and tangible evil?

  He shook his head. There was no time for this. He looked away from the city on the ledge and cast his eye across the flat base of the canyon floor. Three dark shapes, one at the front outl
ined by an equally bone-white shock of hair that moved like a beacon in the night, were moving swiftly across the remaining distance between their hiding place and the ascent to the city.

  Ryan grinned to himself. J.B. was right to get them moving, as there was little time. Before they knew it, the sun would start to rise once again, and they would be trapped halfway up the canyon wall, at the mercy of the morning patrol as it rode out.

  Doc and Mildred were out of their cover and ready to go. Ryan gestured to them to follow, and didn’t spare another glance for their companions in the distance.

  What had to happen next was simple: J.B. and his people were to move in and hit hard, locating their targets and extracting them with the minimum of fuss and the maximum of aggression. To aid the ease of this action, Ryan and his team were to cause a distraction in the city and divide and occupy any sec that they may have.

  So they had to cover the ground. Fast. Even as they moved off, he could feel that it would be a strain to get into position before the sun was in place. But it was something they had to do. With Doc and Mildred, Ryan felt that in some ways he had the lesser of the forces. Doc was keen, but his body was ravaged and slower than either Jak or J.B. And Mildred was a good fighter, but again no match for Krysty. Not being born into these times was something that neither could help, but it had undoubtedly counted against them in some unfathomable way.

  Still, that was why he had chosen them for the decoy action, so to fret about it was useless. Instead, they should concentrate on making their target in time to put their strategy into action.

  Yet as they made the ground, keeping pace—he hoped—with the other group, there was something that nagged at him. The sec force they hoped to distract: how, exactly, did it operate? He had seen nothing that resembled a sec force as they knew it. That should make it an easier task. But if they had no conventional sec as such, then what exactly would they be facing?

  And how could they prepare to fight that which was both unknown and unpredictable?

  Chapter Ten

  Jak looked up at the canyon face. The sun was starting to ascend and the heat beginning to grow again. Above, across the clear air of the canyon, he could hear the sounds of people stirring and starting to go about their business. It wouldn’t be long now before the patrol rode out, seemingly sightless and on a ritual ride that took no note of whatever was going on.

  Except that the companions couldn’t take that risk. Maybe the sec team on patrol wasn’t as sightless as it seemed.

  He looked back down to where J.B. and Krysty followed in his wake. The Armorer was taking the rear position, and was struggling a little. It was a steep ascent at this point in the journey, and the ordnance that J.B. carried with him was weighing him down a little. Krysty was blowing hard, but making good time. It was one hell of a task they had set themselves, but as Jak looked up to where the lip of the city’s ledge was protruding above them—almost, it seemed, within touching distance now—it was one that now seemed more of a possibility than it had a few hours before, when the dark before the dawn had echoed in their hopes and fears.

  He tried to stare across the vast, yawning chasm to catch a glimpse of the companions who were climbing on the far side. They had to be in position at more or less the same time. If his people got to their point too soon, they would risk discovery with every second they had to wait.

  The albino teen was suddenly filled with a feeling of dread, accosted by the smell and sense of chilling that lurked like a miasmic mist over the bone-white stone city.

  He wondered if the others felt that same sense of foreboding.

  “Jak, what is it? We need to keep moving.”

  He turned and found himself staring into Krysty’s eyes. His own face and gleaming red eyes were as inexpressive as always. At least, that was what he hoped. But perhaps not. He could almost feel the doomie power of the redheaded beauty reach out through her own orbs and look into him. He could see that her sentient hair was flicking in an irritable fashion as it gathered close to her scalp. There was a depth to her words—the way she said them as much as the words themselves—that told him much.

  “Place get you if stop,” he murmured. “Yeah, keep moving…hit hard and run.”

  “I don’t know about run, but otherwise yeah,” J.B. said, grunting as he reached them, the initial puzzlement at seeing them halt evaporating as he caught a feel for what was going on mixed perhaps with relief that the nagging feelings he had experienced weren’t his alone.

  Jak turned, took a step up along the narrow rock path and squinted at the city, so close they could touch it.

  “Wonder how others doing?”

  * * *

  “RYAN, MY DEAR BOY, I would hate to stand accused of jinxing our good fortune by saying as such, but this has been a lot easier than I had feared.”

  Doc was blowing hard between each word as he spoke, but the vulpine grin that spread across his features betrayed the truth of his assertion. Ryan would have to agree. They had emerged from their shelter feeling tired, stiff and aching. Yet the floor of the canyon across to the bottom of the roughly hewn rock track they had chosen for ascent had been surprisingly easy. The terrain was flat, and despite the dark there had been no hidden obstacles—dips in the ground, ridges of rock to trip them or loose stones to turn an ankle—to slow them or cause injury.

  The path itself was partly natural, yet had also been assisted by man. Over the untold centuries since the mysterious palaces had first been built by an unknown hand, that very same hand had laid the foundation for the path that had enabled the dwellers of those palaces to move up and down the side of the canyon. It was shallow, with a gradient that spoke of mule transport, and therefore didn’t require that the three companions now ascending use too much effort to make the climb.

  The one-eyed man could see the buildings above begin to stir into life. As people began to move within them, it was as though the stone itself came to life, as well. The companions were close to their target, but they needed to move faster now if they were to create the necessary diversion.

  “Pick it up,” he said sharply. “You’re right, Doc, but we can’t waste time congratulating ourselves.”

  “Of course not, my dear Ryan,” Doc agreed, suddenly solemn. “How long until the sec patrol rides out? I wonder.”

  Mildred looked at the sky, trying to judge time by the sun. “Not long now.”

  Ryan smiled wryly as he looked at his wrist chron. “If they have anything like this, then they’ll be in the next few minutes. If they don’t, then fuck knows…”

  He wondered if the other group was thinking the same thing.

  * * *

  JAK, TOO, was looking at the sun. If he was any judge, then the sec patrol would ride out soon enough. He lowered his gaze to scan the path ahead of them for anything resembling cover. There was nothing. Like the path they had traveled on the far side of the canyon wall, there were a few outcrops and some sparse scrub, but nothing that would give them any kind of shelter or provide cover.

  He hoped that Ryan’s group was making good time, and that just maybe they could create their diversion before the patrol started its circuit of the canyon. Maybe that way they wouldn’t have to face them down, because right now all he could see was that they would have to face off the patrol and raise an alarm before they reached the top of the path.

  Beckoning to Krysty and J.B., he picked up the pace. The path they had to travel was steeper than the one Ryan’s group walked, and the effort was beginning to take its toll.

  When they were at a point that granted them maximum exposure to any oncoming force, Jak heard the sounds of people approaching on horseback. There was the unmistakable clatter of hooves on rock. He turned back to face Krysty and J.B. and could see from their expressions that they, too, had heard the oncoming patrol. With a calm eye
that belied the situation, the albino teen scanned the area. There was nowhere to hide; the fight would have to begin here.

  “Frosty, now,” he growled. There was no answer from his companions, but then again he didn’t expect it.

  The sec patrol rode out of the city and toward them, descending the narrow path at a speed that seemed to be amplified by the fact that there was nowhere to hide. The horses came within sight of the three companions, the men on their backs surely now able to see the trio that blocked their passage. And yet the horses didn’t alter their pace. There was no speeding up to meet the oncoming foe, nor was there a decrease to take stock and prepare to fight. It seemed almost as if the staring, trancelike sec men on the backs of the steeds were truly as sightless as their gaze made them appear. Their mounts were receiving no instruction to change their pace, and so kept coming at the same steady rate.

  “Dark night, they don’t even see that we’re here,” J.B. breathed. “What kind of people are they up there?”

  The three companions had their blasters drawn, ready to fire, but held back until the riders were almost on top of them. To start a firefight would be to alert the city above of their presence. But taking out the sec without a sound would be a much better option.

  Jak swapped his Colt Python for a leaf-bladed throwing knife in each hand. The mounts were so close on him now that he could almost feel their hot, rancid breath.

  And then he had a revelation—was there even a need to fight?

  “Back,” he said simply and softly, stepping to one side of the narrow path so that he was tight against the canyon wall, the rock digging into his back as he impressed himself upon it.

  Krysty and J.B. needed no bidding to follow his lead. Both of them were almost instantly in tune with his thinking. The sightless eyes of the riders truly saw nothing and went on their way as part of some ritual of the morning, the significance of which had been lost over the decades—perhaps longer—that they had been practiced.