A Call to Darkness - Michael Jan Friedman [39]
Finally, he was on the ledge, and the ride became much gentler. He was able to pick up the pace just a bit, despite the proximity of the precipice to his right. Then, after the first twist in the trail, he caught sight of what figured to be their ultimate destination: a squat, dark edifice that seemed to lurk in the folds of a particularly stark mountainside. Picard could barely make out tiny figures moving along the walls that girded the inner keep.
A sense of foreboding gripped him. Perhaps it was just the look of the place-so severe, so unadorned. But then, what had he expected in the midst of this wilderness?
Or was it more than the place’s appearance? Something about the figures on the walls?
What were they watching out for, anyway? The supply train?
Or something else?
He would have plenty of time to ponder that. The edifice was a good day and a half away-maybe more, depending on how long it took to skirt the intervening vault of a valley.
The wind scoured the terraces, blowing a fine grit about in the air. Picard had to shield his eyes from it.
Worse, it seemed to infuriate the burden-beasts. They stabbed at the air with their long, majestic horns and shrieked in that ear-shattering pitch Picard had become familiar with.
Farther back, he could hear some of the other teams shrilling like his own. The drivers were no doubt doing their best to restore calm, but if anything the noises were growing louder.
Picard set his teeth. This was hardly the time and place for the beasts to become rambunctious. Not with the cliff so near and the drop so far…
Suddenly, the wind’s rush was punctured by more than animal screams. There was a bellow from a throat that couldn’t have been too different from his own-followed by the crack of splintering wood.
He whirled just in time to see one of the wagons flip halfway over in the direction of the precipice. The driver was thrown out into space with a strange, agonizing slowness-along with much of his cargo. But somehow he managed to hang on to the reins. Nor did he let go as his frenzied team tried to pull free of their twisted harness, dragging the wagon forward and scraping the driver along the cliff’s edge.
Half a heartbeat later, Picard saw through a rising cloud of grit how the driver could be so tenacious: his arm was entangled in the reins. But for that, he would have been dead already, crushed against the next ledge below.
There were no second thoughts for Picard-only the fact of danger to someone who had followed him into these straits. Not that it had been his fault-nor did he blame himself, exactly. It was just that he had assumed responsibility for the others-and he didn’t take that responsibility lightly.
Vaulting down from his wooden seat, he made his way past two other wagons, hugging the mountainside in order to avoid both the cliff’s edge and the raging burden-beasts. By the time he’d reached the upended vehicle and come around it, he saw that others had beaten him to the spot.
But no one was doing anything, not even leaning over to lend a hand. In fact, they were backing off from the brink-before the weapon-wielding figure of the marshal, who was fighting the winds on his bucking sled.
“Out of my way,” Picard shouted, shouldering past the other drivers. His eyes met those of the sky rider-briefly. Then, with determination flooding through him like an elixir, he knelt at the edge of the cliff and peered over.
The entangled driver couldn’t look back up at him. He was struggling too hard to free himself from his bonds, which had cut deep into his arm. Every twist of the reins brought forth a strangled whimper.
“Back off!” cried the sky rider, struggling with the winds. His pigtail whipping behind him, he aimed his blaster at Picard. “You hear me? Leave him be!”
And without warning, he pulled the trigger. But at the very last moment, he turned his weapon aside-and instead of hitting the human, the ripple stream splattered against the frantic animals still harnessed to