The Golden Enemy (11 page)

“You know I can't do that!”

Doubtful rolled doleful eyes up at him, then said plaintively, “We had such fine times together before he came. Life was good then. Why does it have to be the way it is now?”

“I don't know. I wish you'd stop talking like that.” Boy Jaim ground his teeth together.

“I can't help how I feel. And I don't feel right. I wish he wasn't so smart. Why is he so smart?”

“He's a mutant,” Boy Jaim mumbled. “I'm sure he's very old, and that he's learned how to use the Pool of Knowledge.”

“What chance have we got against something like that?”

“Not much, I'm afraid.”

“Well then,” Doubtful said glumly, “don't you think he ought to be killed before it's too late?”

“Oh, stop talking and help me find him!” Boy Jaim snapped irritably.

As he swung the sled around again L'Mara called, as she had been doing every few minutes, and asked his location. When he gave it, she said, “
Are there any sleds near you?
”

“
Can't make out any
,” he told her. “
But I can't see far in this rain.
”

“
Well, there ought to be a lot around you soon, flying in groups. Father's organized a big hunt. There'll be hundreds of sleds out, covering all the country. For the people who can't use bows, there will be explosives. Father and Councilman Traml are making them now.
”

L'Mara paused, and suddenly he sensed that something had upset her badly and that she was trying to keep it from him.

“
Go on,
” he urged. “
There's more. It has to do with Andru. Did he tell you to tell me something?
”

“
Yes,
” she admitted. “
He
—
he sends orders for you to come back and join the hunt. He says you know how to locate the bear better than anyone, and that if you don't help kill it he
—
he'll have you tried by the Council, and
—
and condemned to be an outcast.
”

Boy Jaim was stunned. Tried by the Council! Would Andru actually do that to him? Make an outcast of him?

He knew Andru would. It had been more than a century since the last person had been tried for bringing injury to a fellowman. He had been banished from the Five Communities. But Andru was in a rage over all that had happened. Someone must be blamed. And people were beginning to do things they wouldn't have dreamed of doing a week ago.

Despairingly he said, “
Tell Andru I
—
I've got to find the bear alone, and that I'll have nothing to do with his hunt.
”

By noon the sled he was using was beginning to act a little sluggish. He wondered if he ought to go back and exchange it for another one, then decided it would be a waste of time. The rain, no doubt, would have affected all the sleds the same way.

Even so, he was almost thankful for the rain. It helped to mask his movements and kept him from being seen for any distance. The hunt was on now, and he had only to rise to treetop level to make out the gray dots of the first group of searchers flying over the hills. He kept low and took his time, staying behind the hills and following the little valleys that wound toward the river.

Each time he neared the river, he found it more and more difficult to turn away from it. “I still say he's got to eat,” he muttered to Doubtful. “And that means fish. But where would he go to catch them?”

He flew cautiously out over the water and glanced downstream. It was a rush of swirling white, ever widening until it was lost in the gray distance. In the other direction it narrowed between high banks, and curved out of sight beyond the dim shape of an ancient stone mill. The waterfall beside which the mill had been built had all but vanished under the tremendous flow pouring over it. Today the river's voice was a great roar.

After studying the banks carefully, Boy Jaim flew slowly upstream. As he neared the mill, he kept behind the sprawling structure and inched forward until he could make out the section of the river beyond the bend.

“Whiff anything, Doubtful?”

“Yes … Just caught it a little.”

“Is it coming from upstream?”

“Can't tell in this rain. It's sort of from all over.” Doubtful was suddenly trembling.

He put his arm around the dog and said, “There's nothing to be afraid of. I won't get too close to him.”

“It's not that,” Doubtful muttered. “I just know things sometimes. Like I know we shouldn't be here now.”

“Stop talking foolishness and keep your whiffer going! You know we've got to find that thing. Maybe we won't learn much, but we can try.”

Angrily he sent the sled forward to the roof of the mill and held it there while he studied every foot of the curving stretch of water he could see ahead. Beyond the mill the river widened, and through the gray rain he could discern an area filled with great boulders. In today's flood it would have been the best spot for a bear to fish—if that bear were as large as the Golden One.

Ignoring the downpour, he slid the top back for better vision. Finally, seeing no movement save the swirling water, he flew upstream to the boulders.

Doubtful's sudden frenzy of barking jerked him to his feet. He looked wildly around at the foaming, rock-studded flood. There was still no sign of the beast.

“Where are you?” he cried, clenching his fist. “Answer me, Golden One! I know you are close. I've come in peace again—”

A boulder beneath him changed shape. In horror he gave the sled full power and tried to lift it to safety. Its response was too slow. Abruptly the river exploded with violent movement. A monstrous form boiled upward. For an instant he found himself staring into the cold black eyes of the creature that had tricked him, then a paw with the power of a thunderbolt smashed into the sled and tore it to bits.

Boy Jaim had a brief glimpse of Doubtful, teeth bared, hurling his insignificant little body forward in attack. Then Boy Jaim was flung through the rain with pieces of the sled, and in another second the icy river snatched him and whirled him away.

As he fought to keep his head up, something white appeared near him, struggling feebly. It was Doubtful. He tore off his clinging jacket and lunged for the dog, managing finally to get an arm around him. But even as he drew him close, he was aware that blood was staining the water and that Doubtful's eyes were glazing. Suddenly the feeble struggling stopped.

“Doubtful!” he gasped in agony. “Please don't die! Please …”

The river rolled him under, tore at him, and snatched the limp body away from his grasp. He fought his way to the surface, feeling an overwhelming sense of loss. Now, for the space of seconds that seemed to stretch into long minutes, it became a greater fight to get out of the river before he was swept to the mill and over the seething whiteness that had once been the falls.

A whirling eddy just in front of the mill saved him. The current thrust him into it and almost sent him past a broken and half-submerged window. Barely in time his numbed fingers caught the edge of the stone, and he managed to draw himself inside.

There were steps in the corner leading to the upper floor. He swam to them and climbed to another window that opened directly above the one by which he had entered. Gasping, numb with cold, and exhausted, he collapsed on the sill and stared blankly out into the rain while a vast emptiness in him slowly filled with hate.

Suddenly all the bitterness and blackness of hate surged through him like a violent poison. It shook him and brought him upright, thinning his lips and knotting his fists. He could not see the Golden One in the rain, but he could feel the nearness of the beast. He raised his trembling fists in defiance.

“I came in peace!” he cried hoarsely. “Peace! D'you hear me?” His voice rose to a scream. “I'll make you pay for what you've done! I'll kill you! If it's the last thing I ever do, I'll hunt you down and kill you!”

T
he youngest herder's star had not yet appeared above the band of mist in the east. While he watched for it, strangely upset, he thought of his lost dog and the beast that had killed it. The hunters had the thing bottled in a canyon. Had they destroyed it yet?

“
Is man so perfect,” the oldest herder was saying, “and are his needs so great, that he has rights over all creation?
”

“
How
—
how do you mean?
”

“
Suppose man wants trees for his own use, or a piece of land? He always takes them
—
and the creatures that lived in the trees or on the land move on. When they have nowhere to go, they die. When they dispute the rights of man, they also die.
”

“
Was it that way long ago, on the planet we came from?
”

“
I'm afraid it was.
”

8

AMBUSH

A
tearful L'Mara flew to the mill and took Boy Jaim home after they had searched in vain downstream for Doubtful's body.

He did not remember calling for L'Mara, any more than he remembered shucking off his boots and jacket in order to escape the river. She appeared so quickly that he realized she must have been on her way while he was still in the water. There was no need at that moment for him to explain what had happened. It was all so agonizingly vivid in his mind that every terrible second of it must have been instantly communicated to her.

As he came into the house, clutching around him the blanket that L'Mara had brought, Tira ran to meet them.

“Boy Jaim!” she gasped. “What—what in the world …” Then in quick anxiety, “Where's Doubtful?”

He opened his mouth to tell her, and could not. They had never looked upon the dog as a pet. Doubtful had been part of the family, the youngest member, the bright child that everyone loved.

L'Mara sobbed, “The—the bear killed him.”

“Oh, no!…”

Boy Jaim ground his teeth together and strode grimly through the house to find dry clothing. When he returned he was fully dressed again and ready to leave.

“Where's my bow?” he asked.

“Wait,” said Tira. “You can't go right back—”

“I'm going,” he ground out. “My bow …”

There was no room in him at the moment for anything but hate. It was a black force that drove all else from his mind. He wanted only to rush out into the rain, find the treacherous monster, and destroy him.

Tira placed firm hands on his shoulders and pressed him into a seat by the fire. “Listen to me, Boy Jaim,” she began. “I know how you feel. But don't forget that L'Mara and I have a stake in this too. We loved Doubtful. As for you—you are important to both of us, especially to L'Mara.” She paused, and her voice shook a little as she continued, “We both want to see that creature dead—but not at the expense of losing you. If you go out the way you are now, all wrought up, you won't have a chance with him. Surely you realize that.”

He glanced up at her grimly, his jaws knotting, then looked down at the floor, which was still covered with drying grain. Outside, above the steady drum of rain on the roof, he was aware of the rushing of many air sleds going past. Dozens, from the sound of them. And there would be dozens and dozens more, combing every foot of land around the Five Communities. It seemed impossible that the scheming beast could escape so many hunters. But of course he would. What chance had the hunters against such intelligence?

L'Mara obviously reading his thoughts, said, “They—they've nothing to worry about, but you have. You know now he'll try to kill you if he has the chance. Why has he picked on you? Is it because he knows you're the only person who can hurt him?”

He shook his head. That might be one of the reasons, yet there was another reason, more important, that eluded him. But it didn't matter. He couldn't sit here all afternoon, doing nothing.

Suddenly he lurched to his feet. “I'm wasting time,” he muttered. “I've got to find him …”

“No!” L'Mara cried fiercely, clenching her small hands. “No, no, no! You don't even know where you're going, and if you start out now—”

“I'll find him somehow! Where's my bow?”

“No!” she cried again and all at once flew at him and began beating him back with her little fists. “Please—please! If you go out without some kind of a plan, he'll just trick you again. You've got to be smarter than he is! You've got to! Can't you understand?”

He'd never seen L'Mara so intense and determined. Slowly he sat down again. There was, in fact, no resisting her. Their minds were so close that, in moments like this, it was almost like having one mind. Unspoken between them, but suddenly realized and felt more strongly than ever, was the fact that in the future neither could live with anyone but the other. To attempt anything else was simply unthinkable. It would always be the two of them, and if something happened to one, it would be like the end of both.

“
And nothing must happen,
” she told him silently. “
That's why we must plan this
—
oh, so carefully
—
before you go out again.
”

“
All right, little squirrel.
”

There was no lessening of the hate in him. But now he felt able to step aside from it and think coldly how to do what had to be done.

Aloud, L'Mara said, “Do you believe he'll stay anywhere near the river?”

He shook his head. “I—I doubt it. He might return there at night, but he's much too smart to ever let himself be seen in the same place twice.”

“Then where would he go?”

“That's what I've been wondering. I've almost got it—it's something to do with food.”

“You mean he wants something besides fish to eat?”

“Yes. If I can think what it is, I'll have him beat.”