Pliocene Exile - The Adversary Part 63

"He's a rugged old walrus, but pulmonary edema's nothing to fool around with. Getting him down to Camp Two eased his condition a little, but he's still a bagger. Basil and Taffy will have to hump him all the rest of the way on the decamole sledge."

"How's poor dear Phronsie?"

"Her feet are responding to the torc-induced circulation boost. She can walk, but not very fast. She wants Baz and Taffy to leave her at Camp Two and press on down with Stan. She says she thinks she could make it back here on her own, given a couple days' rest. Or we could send a rescue team."

"If the Firvulag don't wipe out Bettaforca first," Betsy muttered. "Rescue team-? The only climbers left down here after we take off will be Cliff and Cis...o...b..iscoe, and neither one is very strong." He pulled a dubious face and replaced a half-eaten slug on the platter. "Attrition is thinning the ranks of Basil's b.a.s.t.a.r.ds rather rapidly. We really don't need a premature Firvulag attack and a storm on top of everything else."

The hut door opened, admitting three exotics and Kang Lee, the gold-torc officer of the watch. The Tanu climbers Bleyn the Champion and Aronn looked almost like outsized humans in their alpine clothing; but Ochal the Harper was an eerie sight, a white anorak and pants pulled over his brightly glowing amethyst armour.

"The others are coming immediately," the fa.r.s.ensor said.

"We'll use this map for orientation rather than attempt a mindmeld." He spread a large sheet of durofilm on the table in the centre of the hut. More people came stomping in-Bengt, Sandvik and n.a.z.ir of the second a.s.sault team, and the nonclimbing physician, Magnus Bell. Last of all, smiling and imperturbable in the face of the others' coolness, came the little deputy a.s.sault leader, Dr. Thongsa.

"Now let the briefing commence!" he ordered. Somebody snickered.

Ochal's mailed finger traced a path across the map, leaving a lingering bright mark on the pla.s.s. "It seems the Foe has done the unexpected. With their forces diminished by the landslide back in the Tarentaise, no one suspected that they would dare to split what was left. Nevertheless, this is exactly what they did. After crossing the Little St. Bernard Pa.s.s and marching into the Proto-Augusta Valley, they arrived here." He indicated a point on the river some forty kilometres east of the pa.s.s.

"About one hundred Firvulag continued to move east along the Augusta in a straightforward manner to the Val d'Ayas, which is their most logical corridor of access to Camp Bettaforca. This was the force Elizabeth tracked."

"And the rest of them?" Ookpik asked.

"The force she did not perceive," Ochal resumed, "consisted of some seventy of the more stalwart Foe, those able to exercise strong s.h.i.+elding functions. After these troops broke away from their fellows, they went through the steep gorges of the Valpelline, where even a Grand Master would have the utmost difficulty fa.r.s.ensing them. They travelled northeast and then east across very rugged terrain, then curved back southward.

They will fall upon us from the head of the Ayas instead of the foot, probably attacking from that ridge to the northwest."

"The storm's coming in from that direction," Ookpik noted brightly. "Might slow the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds down."

"We must be off at once!" piped Thongsa, prodding the air with his ice-axe spike. "Once we reach the glacier, the Firvulag won't dare follow-and at least we'll be safe!"

An embarra.s.sed silence greeted this gaffe.

Ochal said gently, "We think that the Foe are poised to attack Camp Bettaforca, and our people are armed and ready. But you must understand that another possibility exists. The Firvulag nation were anciently born and bred in the high snowy mountains of Duat, our native world. Even a thousand years in the Many-Coloured Land will not have diminished their craftiness in such terrain-and the Famorel Little People are even more mountain-wise than their kinfolk of the northern realm. They are keen fa.r.s.ensors. They undoubtedly know the locations of our advance camps on Monte Rosa."

"Surely not!" wailed the Tibetan physician.

"The Firvulag objective," Bleyn the Champion reminded him, "is to deny us the aircraft. Attacking Bettaforca with its strong defences isn't nearly so tempting as going for us climbers.

Besides-the second force of Little People will be in a better position to attack the base."

Thongsa's black eyes darted like terrified beetles in his flat bronze face. "We must postpone the a.s.sault until the enemy is defeated!"

Bleyn was implacable. "The Foe may win. The King commands that we begin the high climb at once."

"But we may have to fight our way up the entire South Face!"

Thongsa cried.

"Now you have it straight, darling," said. Mr. Betsy comfortably. He hoicked up his pack, fastened the buckles, and adjusted the hood of his anorak over the pink pompoms of his balaclava.

"Shall we be off?"

"Wait!" exclaimed the Tibetan wildly. His voice was drowned by the rumbling agreement of the others, who began putting on their gear.

"Feel like guiding a rookie today, Bets?" asked Magnus Bell.

"I'm mooching along with you guys-part of the way, at least-to cope with the sickees, help haul them back down.

Mountaineering-wise, I'm dumb but willing. In the tough pitches, I expect to be dragged."

Thongsa was fairly hopping with fury. "This is madness! When I agreed to lead the second a.s.sault team, I never antic.i.p.ated it would involve a running gun battle! I resign forthwith!"

"Go right ahead," said Aronn gloomily. He was a horse-faced Tanu with an air of perennial disillusionment, not above using his PK talent to cheat at c.r.a.ps. He had muscles like a bull gigantopithecus. "You may back out of the leaders.h.i.+p if you choose, Lowlife, but your alpine expertise and piloting ability are irreplaceable. You go with us if I must carry you by the scruff of the neck."

"This is insupportable," Thongsa whimpered.

"Isn't it, though?" agreed Betsy. His dainty goateed face thrust close to that of the rebellious pilot-physician. As other hands lifted Thongsa's pack to his shoulders, Betsy latched it on. "Think of the aircraft, darling. Think of the time-gate that the aircraft will help to build! Think of yourself going through that time-gate. Don't you want to go back to the Milieu?"

Tears stood in Thongsa's eyes. "I did not think so before.

But now ... yes. Yes!

YES!".

They crept across the rotten ice of the Gresson Glacier, divided into four-man parties and firmly roped in spite of the fact that the trail was marked with flagged wands. All around them were the sounds of running water and the squeaks and groans of settling ice. At long intervals they heard thunderous crashes as seracs calved from the four great icefalls. The moon had a ring around it and the summit of Monte Rosa wore a spectral caul.

The two Tanu kept in constant telepathic communication with the base camp at the same time that their fa.r.s.ense scanned the expanse of ice for signs of the advancing Foe. But nothing happened. For more than two hours, until the grey light of dawn smudged the sky behind Rosa's right flank, they picked their way across the glacier. Thongsa went first, probing with his long-hafted axe, leading n.a.z.ir, Bengt, and Aronn. Then came Ookpik leading Betsy, Magnus, and Bleyn the Champion. No one fell into a creva.s.se. No one even lost his footing. The torcs helped them to see in the dark. Thongsa's route finding was a model of conservative ice travel: painstaking, safe, and very, very slow.

They saw the storm sweeping toward them as they approached the supply dump at the foot of the Gresson Ice fall. At the same time Bleyn announced: Elizabeth regrets that a combination of meteorological interference thoughtresistant rock formations and Firvulag screening makes it all but impossible for her to pinpoint the location of the northern force of the Foe. The southern force is easily fa.r.s.ensed 8 kilometres south of Bettaforca in the Ayas Valley apparently bivouacked ...

Sleet struck them. The aether rang with epithets as they paused to seal shut the scabbards of their weapons and pull down their hoods. Then they slogged on through the gloaming, with Aronn's farsight helping Thongsa to locate the wands as the storm intensified. Sometimes they were ankle-deep in running water and their socks quickly became soaked. But it was possible for the two Tanu overlords to step up circulation in the extremities of the grey-torc wearers, so their wool-clad feet remained warm, if slightly chafed.

Magnus said: All the same we're sure to get blisters unless we dry out soon.

Bleyn said: I fa.r.s.ee the supply dump tents less than half a league ahead.

Ookpik asked: How much is that in honest metres?

Aronn said: I know not but you puny-leggers will take at least another hour to get there unless you crank it up.

n.a.z.ir said: Subhan'llah I think I'm sinking guys! ... I am!

Thongsa said: Belay Bengt I am fast.

Bengt said: Got him.

n.a.z.ir said: b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l I'm waist deep ...

Thongsa said: Can you lift him Lord Aronn?