Title: Warrior Maid of Mars
Author: Coppel, Alfred
Language: English
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                         WARRIOR-MAID of MARS

                           By ALFRED COPPEL

            The Terran Barbarians have landed! Already they
            plunder a dying, helpless planet! And a whisper
              rustles through the cold, thin air, across
             the rust-red sands: "Give us a leader--and we
             will fight! Give us back our ancient glory!"

           [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
                      Planet Stories Summer 1950.
         Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
         the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]


The small room was dark but for the flickering light of a single
ef-lamp that burned on the bare table between the two long rows
of black-hooded figures. The thin dry air was surcharged with the
tenseness of a tautly drawn cord ... a strangler's cord. A sentence of
death had been passed in silence. Now, the executioners balloted, still
in silence, to select from their number a leader.

The High Council of the Maldia was in session. Behind the dark,
enigmatic sable masks and robes lurked all the might and hate of a
proud, ancient and dying culture. The might of a warlike world's
aristocracy. The hate that was the unreasoning, distilled essence of a
doomed world's bitterness....

Beneath the black cowl that shadowed his face young Telis of Lars' eyes
showed fierce pride as member after member pointed silently toward his
end of the table. It seemed that the vote would be overwhelmingly in
his favor, and a tremor of anticipation ran through him. At the far
end of the board he could see his rival candidate's eyes glittering
furiously. The Maldia would not be led by Brand, that much was certain.
The assembled nobles were quite plainly repudiating his leadership for
that of the young Lord of Lars.

Outside the tower room, the icy wind shrieked and gamboled through the
crenels of the ancient fortress like a harbinger of doom. The draughts
set the candle flame to dancing crazily, and long shadows leapt from
wall to wall.

Telis stretched his long legs out under the table. To him, the voting
seemed unnecessarily prolonged and ritualistic, but he knew better than
to voice opposition to customs that had been accepted in the Maldia
since long before the Laurrs, the dictator-kings who took the name of
the very planet for themselves, had driven the society underground.

The young warrior was forced to admit that ritual and trappings were an
important part of the superstitious hold the Maldia had on the great
masses of Laurr. And, with the populace cowed, anything was possible.
Even the Laurr himself would not care to face the unanimous disapproval
of this masked hierarchy. Too many Laurrs, down through the aeons of
the planet's history, had fallen before the blades of Maldia assassins.

Telis watched the glittering eyes that peered out from behind the
peaked mask that hid Prince Brand's handsome face. The mart knew he was
defeated, and rage seemed to surround him like a malign auriole. Brand
would never be satisfied with the deputy command that would be his for
having been second in the balloting. The man wanted full authority,
not command of troops in the field as Telis had had. Brand was far
too concerned with his own safety for that; he wanted command of the
striking force of assassins that would murder the handful of invaders
out in the desert. The victory over a few scientists from another world
would give Brand the renown he craved and at negligible risk, for all
his dark talk about mystery weapons and his pleas for caution.

The only need for caution that Telis could see was the possible
intervention of the Temple or the Laurr. And the Temple knew nothing.
And the Laurr could be handled ... by Telis.

Telis looked around him, wishing the masked nobles would have done with
it. It would not be a safe thing to have the Temple learn that the
Maldia met in Telis' own palace quarters. He noted with satisfaction
that the voting had ended.

The shrieking wind outside died suddenly, leaving a thick silence.

A black figure arose from either side of the table. The one on the
right turned toward Telis, and its voice had a strange and disembodied
timbre in the stillness.

"Telis of Lars," it said, "you lead."

Telis inclined his head in acceptance. Taciturnity was part of the
ancient tradition of the Maldia.

The figure on the left turned toward Brand. "Brand, Prince of Laurr,
you follow."

Brand heaved himself to his feet. "I protest this insult!" he said
thickly. "Why am I to follow him? He is not even of royal birth!"

The robed figure on the left seemed to tense. Its voice sounded
suddenly almost metallic. "You follow," it repeated deliberately.

Brand stood irresolutely, two solid rows of shadowed faces turned
toward him. Then Telis spoke up softly, almost casually.

"A challenge, Brand, to decide?"

"I follow," muttered Brand, sinking into his chair sullenly.

Telis smiled to himself. If ever a coward like Brand should pick up a
flung challenge, surely the Water Goddess would throw down the moons!

Slowly, the hooded men filed from the room, leaving Telis alone. For a
moment Brand paused by the door, and Telis could see that he fingered
his sword hilt under the sable robes. But he stood so, glaring at
Telis, for only a minute. Then he was gone.

From the darkness of the courtyard beneath the tower window came the
sound of a whistle, and Lord Telis relaxed. The bribed guardsman's
signal indicated that the last member of the Maldia had mounted his
sith and was safely away.

       *       *       *       *       *

Telis felt a stirring of pride. Any victory was a pleasing thing to
him; but tonight's smashing triumph over Brand was a thing the renegade
princeling would long remember! The Maldia had chosen to forget that
he, Telis, came only from the lower nobility.

His position as Captain-General of the Laurr's armies, as well as the
real affection the ruler had for him, had been a large factor in the
selection, Telis knew. The Maldia was certain that the old Laurr was
fond enough of his young Captain-General to overlook the breach of
faith contemplated for the morning....

Telis doffed his robes and dressed himself with care. Always fastidious
about his appearance, he knew that this night his dress must be
impeccable. The Laurr of Laurr was very particular about such things.

With a last hitch at his jewelled harness, Telis stationed himself
before the polished onyx mirror. The image that gazed calmly back at
him from its dark surface was sufficiently imposing, he reflected, even
for the Laurr of Laurr. He was tall and well-knit; the war harness,
bright with gems, hung low on his hips; his long legs were bare, and
his chest covered only by the crossed straps that supported his weapons.

The black sith-leather was studded with battle-decorations. It would be
well, Telis reasoned, to remind the Laurr of his many services to the
throne. Tacitly, perhaps, but nonetheless firmly.

All the gems won in the Guski campaigns and in the last Water War
were there, as was the golden cross of the Laurr's own Knighthood ...
presented to Telis by the hand whose blessing he planned to seek this
very night.

Glancing at his chronometer, Telis turned away from the mirror. Through
the high, narrow window of his palace quarters, the light of the
nearer moon streamed in golden glory, shaming the feeble light of the
ef-lamp. Telis stepped to the window, his gaze seeking the low hills
beyond the still, shallow waters of the Grand Canal. The beauty of the
night caught at his breast, for, even as he watched, the great orb of
the farther moon was rising sedately to add its light to the already
fulsome glory of her racing sister.

Below and across the palace grounds, the flickering lights of the city
spread like a web of living beads in the moonlight.

As always, Telis felt a rush of pride as he contemplated the beauty
of his world. A great sadness filled him then, for he knew that such
beauty could not last much longer. Soon now, the sun would rise on a
planet of death....

Telis shuddered and turned away. The beauty of the night faded, leaving
only reality. And reality was stark and deadly on Laurr. The water was
vanishing, and the great plains that had once been green and fertile
were now oxidized wastelands. Lars, far to the north, was deserted now,
for the canal had silted up and life had become unbearable. And now
the great deserts of iron oxide stood at the very shores of the Grand
Canal, and what did flow down from the pole was barely enough to keep
the watercourse free of red silt.

Aeons ago, before the great Wars that had almost wrecked the planet,
the ancients had seen the drought coming. They had known that the air
and the water would steadily unite with Laurr's thirsty iron, leaving
the planet barren and desiccated beyond belief.

They had tried to plan for that day and had built the great waterways
as part of their conservation program. Other projects had been started;
mysterious power plants far out in the deserts with walls of foot-thick
pund had been built. But somehow, nothing good had come from these
mysterious Temples. The first of the Ten Great Water Wars had begun
even then, and the warring people of the planet had demanded weapons
from these strange plants.

For many generations the engineer-priests had refused the pleas and
demands, but, as the steadily diminishing water supplies had caused war
after war after war, they relented.

From the pund-lined Temples had come a steady flow of ghastly weapons.
Weapons that left Laurr's cities shattered piles of rubbish to be
covered by the drifting sands. Weapons that had destroyed forever the
once flourishing culture that might have saved the world from its
inexorable doom.

The secrets of the past were forgotten ... or covered with legendary
dross. But the wars went on and on and on.

Telis knew, staring out across the rusty sands, that Laurr was doomed
to a quick death. It would not come in his lifetime ... but soon ...
soon....

And then the Tellurians had come! To gloat and exploit. To steal the
iron of the deserts and drain away the last of the planet's resources
to their wantonly wealthy world! Even the Laurr of Laurr had given them
safe-conduct ... on the basis that their expedition proved some of the
Temple's favored dogma concerning the origin of the race!

Weakness! thought Telis savagely. It fills us as life slips away from
our planet. But it would not be so! The ancient, dreaded Maldia would
see to that! If Laurr must die, then at least she could die upright and
untrammeled by ghoulish invaders!

In sudden fury, Telis snatched up his cloak and strode from the room.
The jewelled glyph of the Water Goddess, Mother of Laurr, gleamed
fiercely for a moment on the hilt of his short-sword in the feeble
light as Telis sought the long winding ramp that led to the lower
levels and the audience chamber of the Laurr of Laurr.

Along endless corridors, ef-lit and lined with rigid guardsmen, Lord
Telis of Lars made his way. Underfoot, the ever-present drift of
reddish sand gritted as he walked.

Turning into the main passageway that led to the inner courtyard,
Telis heard the sound of his name ... softly spoken, but demanding.
Stopping, he looked about him. A dark-robed figure beckoned to him from
the shadow of a huge stone buttress. It was Gorla, First Cycle Priest
of the Temple, and Telis' long standing friend at court. His eyes were
sombre in his round, good-humored face.

"I have met you just in time. You are on your way to see the Laurr,
friend Telis?"

Telis nodded. "Of course. I am already keeping him waiting. I'll see
you in the morning, friend Gorla." He made a move to slip by the young
Priest and be on his way.

"A moment, Telis!" Gorla's voice was suddenly sharp. "You are about to
ask the Laurr to break his word to the outlanders, are you not?"

Telis' eyes narrowed. "Perhaps ..."

       *       *       *       *       *

Gorla laid a hand on his arm. "Telis, I have known you for many haads.
As children we played together on the fields of Lars. Believe me, I
wish nothing but the best for you. Why are you involved with this
bloodthirsty madness of the Maldia?"

Telis withdrew his arm as though the Priest had stung him. Only the
strength of a life-long friendship kept him from striking Gorla, for
the Priest's words had hit a deep-seated prejudice. The Maldia was of
the nobility ... and Gorla was a Commoner.

Gorla went on slowly, emphasizing his words carefully. "Dorliss knows
of your plan to break the Laurr's pledge and attack the Tellurian camp."

Telis stiffened. How was it possible? He had told no one!

The Priest divined his thoughts. "The Temple has ways, Telis, of
knowing such things. The Maldia can bribe a guard ... and the Temple
can bribe him again. You should have thought of that tonight."

Telis drew himself back. "So?"

"You are foolish, my friend. And it is the duty of the Temple to see
that Laurr does not suffer for your foolishness. The Maldia is a
fearful thing, Telis, a creation of senseless hate. Why do you hate
the Tellurians? You have never even seen one. They are but men like
ourselves, and they bring gifts of great promise to Laurr. It is not
fit that such as you should be joined with a renegade like Prince
Brand ... a craven and a lying usurper ... and for the purpose of
attacking those who have come across to seek knowledge and friendship!"

Telis pondered. What Gorla said about Brand was largely true. The
man was untrustworthy and underhanded, a blind seeker of power. But
prejudices of caste and upbringing were too much to combat. And to
renege now would be to mark himself a coward in a world that lived by
the sword. It was unthinkable!

"You, Gorla," Telis said pointedly, "should limit yourself to
scientific and theological matters and leave matters of state and
policy to those better equipped to handle them."

Gorla shook his head sadly. "Foolish friend!" Then his voice took on
the unmistakable tone of command. "In the name of, and by the authority
of the Temple, I demand that you abandon your projected attack on the
Tellurian camp."

Telis threw back his head and laughed. "Demand, is it? I know of no
plan to attack the foreigners, friend Priest, now or in the future! Now
kindly step aside. I cannot make the Laurr of Laurr wait on me while I
argue senseless points with you...."

Gorla sounded defeated. "Then you refuse?"

Telis frowned at his friend. "Of course, I refuse! And you may carry
that message back to Dorliss ... if there _is_ such a place!"

With that he turned away, but not before Gorla laid his hand on Telis'
arm and said: "Then forgive me, old friend...."

Telis wondered at that. Forgive? Forgive what? Then other matters
forced that question from his mind. So the Temple knew of the Maldia's
plan to massacre the aliens. To what extent, he wondered, would the
Temple go in striving for its own inscrutable purpose to save the
Tellurian scientists? And why? In spite of himself, Telis could not
suppress a shudder, for the Temple was powerful ... perhaps the most
powerful thing remaining on the desiccated planet of Laurr.

The ancient order of the Temple Priests dated to far before the Ten
Water Wars that had so devastated the globe with their atomic fury. Its
beginnings were lost in the dim mists of antiquity, even antedating
the building of the waterways. The membership was perhaps the one body
selected for any purpose on Laurr without consideration of family or
background, and this fact accounted for the fierce loyalty of such able
young Commoners as Gorla.

The long wars and the struggle for survival had destroyed much of the
ancient science, and what remained lay within the jurisdiction of the
Temple. As it so often happens in times of great stress, science on
the world of Laurr had taken on the vestments of religion in order to
survive. A benevolent, scientific hierarchy, the Priests of the Seven
Cycles spent their cloistered hours delving into the great knowledge
of the ancients, seeking the answers to riddles solved long ago and
forgotten in the fratricidal wars that were the direct result of the
dwindling water supply. Ostensibly, the Temple conducted the world-wide
worship of the Water Goddess, principal deity in the Laurrian Pantheon,
but actually the Priests were scientists striving frantically to
salvage what little they could from the wreckage of the ancient
civilization on a doomed and quarrelsome planet.

       *       *       *       *       *

All this Telis of Lars knew only vaguely. He was a soldier, and little
concerned with the ins and outs of the scientific theocracy of the
Temple. His life up to now had been spent largely in wars and tourneys,
in love-making and the less exacting pastimes of the hedonist. Only
the coming of the Tellurians had stirred him to take a more direct
part in the doings of the court circles, for above all he loved Laurr,
and in the outlanders Telis saw the final, insupportable insult to his
beloved, prostrate home-world.

The government of the Laurr of Laurr and the Temple seldom clashed.
Each remained within its proper sphere, and both were content. But
into this peculiar age-old arrangement the Tellurian spaceship had
fallen like a disrupting bolt from the sky. And men--men like the
men of Laurr--had emerged from the vessel ... seeming to prove the
Temple's much-doubted hypothesis that both Laurr and the planet the
aliens called Terra had been colonized by a great race of interstellar
travelers. How much more could be proved or done with the Tellurians'
aid remained to be seen. The Temple was already calling them the
Redeemers of Laurr, and through its good offices a safe-conduct had
been granted by the Laurr of Laurr himself.

They had come seeking iron. They wanted to mine and later, perhaps, to
colonize, though Laurr was uncomfortable for them. But this the Maldia
found unthinkable. The Tellurians were barbarians, and the ancient
nobles of Laurr raged at their intrusion.

Telis found himself among these objectors. For many haads, Laurr had
known of its approaching doom and it wished to die, Telis thought,
as it had lived--proud and unconquered. The Tellurians were outsiders
who had no place on the barren face of his Laurr ... and it was Telis'
intention to drive them away or destroy them. For this he had been
chosen leader of the attack that the Maldia planned to mount in the
morning.

Already agents had been sent out to agitate among the degenerate tribes
of the desert--the cannibal Guski--and the Maldia was assured of at
least four thousand tribesmen in arms in return for food and plunder.
The power of the Maldia, five hundred sith-mounted nobles, added to
the mass of Guski seemed more than enough to handle a small scientific
expedition from space.

Now, as he left the guest wing of the palace and strode across the dark
courtyard that separated him from the household quarters of the ruler's
family, Telis smiled to himself. The intruding Tellurians were due for
a shock. Their safe-conduct would be voided within the hour and Laurr
would be free of them before the sun set again!

He was almost across the yard and into the gate of the household
wing when something made him pause. He had the feeling of being
watched ... followed. His sharp eyes swept the whole of the courtyard.
It was walled and heavily planted with desert shrubs so that his
inspection told him nothing. He shrugged and turned again toward the
gate.

One step he took, and no more. From overhead came the low whirring of
an air-sled's idling motor. He stopped short, searching the sky for the
craft. A sled in the air low over the Laurr's palace at this time of
night could mean nothing good.

The sharp clank of metal behind him made him swing around, his sword
hissing from its scabbard. Three hooded figures were almost upon
him, naked steel in their hands. Telis thought wildly of calling for
aid, and then he realized that these men would never dare to attack
him if they had not either bribed or killed the household guards.
Instinctively, he thought of Brand. Was this the renegade's doing? By
killing him and spiriting his body away, Brand could contend before
the Maldia that Telis had lost courage at the last moment and fled
rather than lead them in an overt act against the Tellurians....

There was no more time for thought, for the three men were upon him. He
slipped his second sword free and stood facing them, searching for some
hint as to their identity. Overhead the air-sled hovered, waiting....

With a cry, Telis lunged forward and caught one of the attackers on his
point. The man doubled up and fell to his knees as his two companions
closed in. The courtyard now echoed the ring of steel on steel, and the
labored breathing of men fighting.

Telis fought fiercely. He was fighting for his life--and for what was
even more important on Laurr--his honor as a warrior.

His blade wove a deadly, glittering web in the darkness, but his two
assailants closed in steadily. The whirring sound of the air-sled was
nearer now, and Telis glanced upward to see if he could catch a glimpse
of the aircraft. His heart sank.

The ship was a dark blot across the stars, but he could see that a rope
ladder hung down into the court and more men were pouring down, swords
in hand.

Desperately, Telis pressed forward, trying to rush the attackers and
gain a brief respite. One of the men feinted in the low lines and
followed with a thrust at the head that caught Telis a glancing blow on
the temple and set the stars to dancing before his eyes.

The fellow rushed in eagerly and Telis heard his companion hiss:
"Careful, you fool!"

Telis' attack stalled under the concerted rush of the masked man, and
he was forced to retreat until his bare back touched the roughness of
the courtyard wall. There could be no further retreat.

The assailants separated now, so that Telis was forced to strike wildly
from side to side to avert being hit. His sword made a glittering
arc as he parried a near thrust and a lightning riposte pierced the
swordarm of his nearest attacker.

Before the others who had dropped from the sled could close in on him,
Telis whirled and ran along the base of the wall. If he could reach the
gate of the household wing he would be safe, for no assassins would
dare follow him into the inner sanctum of the Laurr himself.

He heard a voice shouting hoarsely in the darkness, and other voices
replying angrily, impatiently.

"We've lost him!"

"The devil's wounded Marl and Varo!"

"Find him, you fools! He must be taken."

Telis ran breathlessly along the wall, hoping against hope that the
gate would not be covered. It was a vain hope. As he broke out of the
shrubbery, the shouts began again and he was forced to retreat into the
shelter of a towering desert plant.

He waited there, breath coming in long rasping gasps, and his head
singing from the blow he had taken.

With pounding heart he listened to the attackers beating the bushes
for him and shouting commands and advice to one another. More men must
still be coming down from the air-sled, for there were fully ten in the
dark courtyard now.

"He can't have gotten far!"

"See that the gate is covered--"

"How the young devil does fight!"

"Pierce that bush there! I saw something move!"

Telis tried to smother his labored breathing as the group drew nearer
to his hiding place. His hands cradled his two swords lovingly as the
searchers spread out into a semicircle and moved steadily towards him.

Telis tensed himself to leap. Within seconds, they would be upon him
and assassins on Laurr showed no mercy, particularly to one who had
wounded two of their craft. He doubled his legs under him and waited.

"There he is!"

Telis burst from hiding and braced himself for the rush. His back was
once again against the wall and this time, he knew, there would be no
escape.

A glittering circle of naked swords surrounded him and he lashed out
furiously, driving the attackers back by the main force of his charge.

Then it was that a stray beam of light from the closely guarded gate
caught a jewelled glyph on the harness of one of the assassins and
Telis' heart froze. The insigne was the Sword and Atom--the ensign of
the Secular Guard of the Holy Temple!

The disclosure was like a blow. It was Gorla rather than Brand, who
was trying to kill him! The bitter understanding seemed to sap his
strength. When he felt the stun-gun's tingling impact, it was almost a
relief. Blackness came ... darker than the primeval night, and he felt
himself falling....


                                  II

There was wind on his face, and the air was bitterly cold. Telis
stirred. His harness covered him only slightly, and his bare limbs and
naked chest stung under the lash of the icy night air. From somewhere,
muffled by the roaring of the wind, Telis could hear the familiar
beat of a multiple-pulse jet engine. Under his questing hands lay the
caulked deck of an air-sled, and he realized that the aircraft was
under way and that he was lashed to rings in the afterdeck.

With a shuddering sigh, he forced himself to relax. Since his abductors
so obviously had the better of him at the moment, there was little he
could do other than watch and wait.

For what seemed to be several hours, he lay quiet and watched the
endless procession of the stars overhead. Finally, as the last effects
of the stun-gun's bolt wore off, he lifted his head to get a look at
his captors.

In the greenish glow of phosphorescent light that emanated from the
instruments on the sled's panel, he could see two figures seated at the
controls. The dim light gleamed for a moment on an insigne--the Sword
and Atom. He had not been mistaken back there in the courtyard. He was
in the hands of the Temple.

The nearer man glanced in his direction and, seeing that he had
awakened, leaned forward to speak. There was no surprise in Telis as he
recognized him. Only a hot anger. For the man was his friend Gorla.

"Telis! Are you all right?" Gorla had to shout to make himself heard
over the rush of the wind.

Telis felt his anger increase. Here was Gorla, who had had him
attacked, stunned, and finally kidnapped. And now, it seemed, he was
concerned over the state of his health and general condition! It did
not matter that Brand would within hours be convincing the gentlemen
of the Maldia that Telis of Lars was a faint-hearted coward who
disappeared in the eleventh hour before the attack on the aliens' camp!
What mattered to Gorla was simply: "Telis, are you all right!"

Getting nothing but a scowl from Telis, the young Priest sat back, a
half smile on his round, pleasant face. He could well imagine what
Telis' thoughts were about now. Hurt pride and mortified anger were
apparent in every line of the Lord of Lars' tense body.

For hour after hour the air-sled sped along through the smooth night
air. The farther moon set and the madly racing nearer moon rose again
in the west and charged insanely across the backdrop of the eternal
stars. Telis could not see his chronometer, but he estimated that they
had been travelling almost all night at the highest speed the sled
could handle. The pulsing of the jet was a smooth, continuous purr.
They were heading in a westerly direction, and after a bit of mental
mathematics, Telis estimated that they must be very near the heart of
the Great Red Desert and a long, long way from the capital.

As he struggled to keep from freezing, the young noble estimated
his chances for survival on this strange flight. He found them
dishearteningly slim. For some reason, the seemingly benevolent Temple
had intervened harshly and forcefully in the plan to destroy the
Tellurians. But it should have been apparent to the Priests that his
abduction would not stop the attack. There were plenty of men to take
his place. Brand, surely. Then why was he being held?

Perhaps the Temple did not wish that he should gain the sanction of the
Laurr of Laurr for the Maldia's plan. But why abduction, then? Why not
merely hold him prisoner until the attack was begun? The events of the
night showed a great deal of careful planning and organization. Such
things took time. And again, why? Telis had a strong suspicion that in
some way the great fondness that the Laurr of Laurr had for him, and
the correspondingly large influence he wielded because of it had more
than a little to do with these strange and dangerous doings....

The motion of the air-sled as it slanted sharply downward interrupted
his reverie. They were nearing their destination, and whatever was in
store for him would not be long in materializing.

Gorla arose from his seat at the panel and cautiously made his way
across the precariously canted deck. Reaching Telis' side, he knelt and
brought his lips close to the young warrior's ear.

"We near our base, Telis, my friend," he shouted. "I beg of you to be
prudent and to contain yourself when you are interviewed. The Temple
elders are wise men and you will do well to listen and learn when they
speak with you...."

Telis made an angry retort that the wind snatched from his lips and
whirled away into the night.

"I know you are angry with me, Telis," the young Priest continued, "but
you have made all this necessary. Remember, it is for Laurr!" He laid
an arm across the prisoner's shoulders that Telis could not find the
heart even in his anger to shrug off. "And," the Priest was smiling
now, "you shall see Dorliss, Telis. Few laymen ever do...."

Dorliss! Then there _was_ such a place! The legends told of it--a
fabled city hidden from the sight of men by some mysterious power,
where the Priests of the mighty Seventh Cycle cloistered themselves to
study the oldest of the ancient riddles. Dorliss! Even the name had a
magical sound! It was here that the Temple's finest minds were said to
struggle in their quest to reclaim Laurr's air and water from the sea
of rust that surrounded them....

Gorla squeezed the young lord's shoulder in an impulsive gesture of
friendship and returned to his place at the sled's panel. Telis stared
out into the night, his eyes trying to pierce the darkness. The idea
of actually seeing Dorliss still enchanted him and, even though he was
arriving trussed up like a fowl for the slaughter, the experience
promised to be a rich one. He recalled many arguments with Gorla
about the probable existence of the Temple City. He had contended
that invisibility was impossible, and Gorla in his young scientist's
enthusiasm had covered sheets and sheets of vellum with strange
mathematical symbols to prove that a light-shielding field could be
created.

Telis smiled thinly. If Dorliss was near, and it seemed to be, then a
light shield must surely exist ... for he could see nothing but desert
below in the moonlight.

The aircraft trembled slightly as the pilot flared out his long glide,
and with a breathtaking suddenness, the stars and the moon vanished,
leaving only a sable blackness around them. Down again, the sled
plunged, and after several moments, the glide flattened again. For a
minute it hovered, and then it dropped sharply, and there was a hissing
sound as the runners touched the ferric sand. They were down.

A company of Temple Guardsmen bearing torches appeared out of the
darkness, and Telis was freed from the deck-rings. Respectfully, but
firmly, he was taken into custody and marched across the gritty soil of
the landing field toward a lighted gate in the distance.

The light shield must have been impervious to moonlight, or perhaps
it was made transparent during the hours of daylight. Telis never
knew. But as they made their way toward the gate, the sun rose with
its usual, breathtaking suddenness. The thin air of Laurr precluded
any dawn or twilight and, when the sun burst over the horizon, the
transition from blackness to day was done with shocking speed. It was a
phenomenon that Telis had seen every morning of his six haads, but this
time the effect was different. For never before had Telis seen such a
city as marvelled Dorliss!

       *       *       *       *       *

And, as though created in a trice out of the very stuff of darkness,
Dorliss sprang into being before his astounded eyes. The flood of
golden light from the sun touched the spires and minarets of an
enchanted city, casting shards of amber light into the deep canyons
between the slender towers. Unable to help himself, Telis paused to
wonder. His gaze found the great golden dome that housed the Mirror of
the Sky ... fabled place where legend said that a man might sit and see
the glories of the heavens reflected on a monster glass of polished
obsidian, figured by the cunning hands of artificers dead over eight
thousand haads!

Telis had long been a scoffer ... but here was proof! And farther
off, basking in the warm morning light, there was the Fist of the
Goddess ... a great spire capped by a mammoth sphere. This was the
machine that the stories claimed could shatter even the smallest
particles of matter and suck out of them the pure force that was the
essence of their being, even as had the ancients long ago. It was from
a similar machine, the Temple Priests avowed, that the hellish missiles
of the first eight Water Wars had been fashioned ... the terrible
weapons that had left the once great cities of Laurr in molten, ghastly
heaps of slag, later to be covered over and obliterated by the steadily
rising tide of rust from the deserts.

And here it all was before him! Here was Dorliss, City of the Temple!

Stunned by beauty and overwhelmed by nearness to the might of the
ancients, Telis stumbled along toward the gate. For the moment, his
own plight was forgotten in the singing glory of seeing fabled Dorliss
and knowing that there was truth in the tales the Priests told to the
people who cried for life in a world slated for death.

Surely, Telis thought, if Laurr can be saved from extinction, the
workers of such miracles as these could save it!

The thought of Laurr brought him up sharply. It brought back a cold
awareness of his purpose ... of his will to escape and rejoin the
Maldia in its attack on the invading Tellurians. The attack that should
at this moment be under way!

Whatever happened to him in this fairy city, Telis swore by the Goddess
herself that he would not allow himself to forget his duty. Surely,
such wonders as these were not meant to be shared with the barbarians
from across the void!

The thought remained with him as he was escorted into the city, and
along wide thoroughfares heavily travelled with sith-drawn traffic.
Above, an occasional air-sled passed, but in the main the city's
travelling was done on foot or by means of the ubiquitous sith ... a
six-legged, docile, great-hearted beast that was the sole remaining
animal of its size left on Laurr.

Telis was taken first to the anterooms of the Central Temple, where a
kindly-faced Third-Cycle Priest assigned him quarters. From there, he
was taken to the tall spire apparently reserved for sudden guests of
the Temple.

In respectful silence, he was freed of his bonds and left alone in
a room such as he had never dreamed of occupying in his own border
fortress ... or even in the palace of the Laurr of Laurr himself.

One curving wall was made entirely of glass, and it faced the city to
the west and the desert to the north, so that the whole magnificent
panorama stretched out before him like a framed picture. And the
furnishings! By the Goddess! He had not dreamed that the sombre
scientist-priests of the Temple did themselves so well! Suspecting
the presence of listening devices or peep-holes, he snooped. He found
nothing. A soft canopied bed waited invitingly, reminding him that
the only rest he had had had been the stupor induced by the stun-gun;
and a table laden with refreshments and wines stood in the center of
the deep-pile carpet. What a difference from the stone floors and the
draughty keeps to which he was accustomed!

Recalling that he had not eaten for some time, he fell to on the laden
table. And then, as weariness stole over him, he laid himself fully
dressed on the wide bed to rest and await whatever came next. Telis
was a soldier and, like all soldiers everywhere, he ate first, rested
next, and was content to await developments in all the comfort that his
surroundings could afford him.

For a prisoner, he thought with a wry smile, I am certainly being
treated royally. By the Goddess! How would I be treated if I were a
friend?

At last the strain of the night's events took its toll on him, and the
young Lord of Lars slept as the Temple City of Dorliss awoke to its
many and varied tasks....

       *       *       *       *       *

The pointer on his chronometer stood at the twenty second hour and the
sun was low on the horizon when Telis was awakened by a liveried escort
at his bedside.

With a respectful bow, the man indicated that Telis should follow him,
and the young lord trailed him through the door, satisfied that within
a very short time he would be before someone in authority here. His
mind was full of thoughts concerning the attack on the camp that by
this time the Maldia must surely have completed, unless....

Unless his disappearance had disrupted the carefully laid plans that
had taken the secret organization so long to complete. In that case,
agents would have to be sent out again among the Guski desert tribesmen
to instruct the chieftains concerning a later date to be used for the
attack, and a different leader would of course have to be picked. Telis
grimaced. It would be Brand, naturally. And all the high officers
of the Maldia would be convinced that Telis had defaulted, for they
had no inkling that the Temple was involved or that it even knew of
the projected attack. One way or another Telis of Lars would be the
scapegoat.... Prince Brand would see to that!

Telis' guide led him out of the spire and into a sith-drawn car. The
great beast stepped smartly along, its six padded paws soundless on the
verdant moss of the thoroughfare.

As they neared the center of the city, Telis saw that he was being
taken to the Central Temple, a graceful structure of alabaster
whiteness. The guide halted the sith before the Temple and Telis
alighted. An attendant came forward to take charge of the sith, and the
escort motioned Telis into the building.

They passed the portal and entered into a fairyland within a fairyland,
for the inner rooms of the Central Temple were by far the most wondrous
in all Dorliss. There were panelled walls of purest quartz crystal,
faceted to reflect the light in enchanting beams of polychromatic
loveliness. And the mosaic floors depicted in silver and gold the
scenes of historical significance from the long life of the Temple. A
thousand other things there were that filled the young warrior with
awe ... for mere beauty per se had long ago passed the surface of
Laurr, and only here in the inmost sanctum of the Temple could such
things survive and be cherished.

Another thing Telis noticed also. Though guards abounded _outside_
the city, he had seen but a handful within the walls. He remembered
something Gorla had told him long ago: that science could not really
thrive against a militaristic background, and that was why so much of
the ancient lore was lost when the planet became nothing more than a
battleground. Plainly, the city of Dorliss was not ruled by force,
and--a break for freedom might not be the impossible achievement that
he had begun to imagine it.

Now they were within a long hallway, bare but for the crystal
panelling. From somewhere came the whispering of plaintive music.
It tinted the air with a gentle nostalgia that found a strangely
responsive chord in Telis. He was told that the sound came from another
chamber where a Priest was engaged in research on sounds and their
effect on human emotions. It had been so long since music existed on
Laurr that even this knowledge had been forgotten....

The guide led Telis on and on, past the long hall and through many
portals that opened at last into a small circular room devoid of any
sort of ornamentation. In the center of this room, a man sat at a table
that rose in graceful lines out of the floor itself. He was old, old.

Telis stared at the man. He wore the sable robes and the insigne of
the Seventh Cycle, the topmost rank of priest-scientists. Recognition
came, too. This man was not merely a Seventh Cycle Priest ... he was
actually the High Superior of the Temple. The old eyes and kindly face,
the long white beard and sable robe were the same as he remembered from
a hundred solideographs in a hundred provincial Temples.

Telis would have thrown himself to his knees before the spiritual head
of all Laurr had he not suddenly remembered that he was a prisoner
here, abducted like any thieving Commoner.

He looked stolidly around the room then, and for the first time he saw
the girl.

A noble of Laurr had plenty of opportunity to become something of a
connoisseur in the matter of woman flesh, but the moment that Telis'
eyes found the girl's he knew that here was something special.

Her hair was black and her skin fair, a combination seldom found on
this side of the planet where bronze skin and brown hair were almost
universal, but Telis had heard tales of such women from brother
officers who had carried the Laurr's battles of unification to the
southern hemisphere. The clothes this woman wore were strange ... a
blouse covered her where most Laurrian women went nude, and a short
skirt descended from a harness not unlike Telis' own. Her belt was
hung with various pouches and holsters. And over all, she affected a
transparent jumper of stuff like flexible glass that covered her from
neck to ankles like a chrysalis. Her eyes were deeply shadowed, and she
seemed either ill or terribly disheartened ... or both.

       *       *       *       *       *

She stood in silence, a liveried escort at her side, to all intents
and purposes a prisoner like himself, for she wore no swords and to
be disarmed upon Laurr was to be a prisoner ... even the peace-loving
Temple Priests packed their full complement of weapons.

There was an air about the girl that touched Telis deeply, a
deep-seated strength and quality, even through her obvious illness or
discomfort. He wondered at her crime. Heresy, perhaps? He had never
heard of the Temple arresting heretics ... the Water Goddess was more a
wishful personification than a demanding deity. But perhaps this girl
was something special in the matter of heretics as she obviously was in
the matter of beauty.

But the explanation was not a satisfying one. There was something
more. Then it came to him like a swordthrust. Could the girl be ... a
Tellurian? Was it possible?

The intoned words of his escort interrupted his thought.

"Reverend High Superior, here is Lord Telis of Lars, Captain-General of
the Laurr of Laurr's Armies."

The Superior inspected him kindly enough. "I have heard that two of our
guardsmen were injured in taking young Telis. How are they now?"

"They suffered wounds, one critical," reported the escort. "Both will
live, Reverend Superior."

The old man nodded. "It is well." Then he turned to Telis and he added:
"How well you fight for your prejudices, my son!"

Telis remained stiffly erect and silent, his eyes hard on the unknown
girl. For the moment all he could do was watch and wait for an
opportunity to escape.

"You will be interested to know, My Lord of Lars," said the High
Superior mildly, "that the scheduled attack on the Tellurian camp was
not launched this morning...."

Telis relaxed slightly. Then there was still a chance to redeem himself
in the eyes of his fellow nobles. Perhaps soon.

"... but you are no longer chieftain of that abominable organization,
the Maldia, for which you should give thanks to the Goddess! At the
moment your so-called friends are meeting to replace you with one
Prince Brand," the High Superior continued. "They have declared at his
instigation that you are a coward and a traitor. Those are the actions
of your fine friends. What do you think of them?"

Telis felt a stirring of anger. "If what you say is true, Reverend
Superior, I have the Temple and you to thank for my disgrace."

The High Superior looked reproachful. "Like the rest of your caste," he
sighed wearily, "you are blind. I suppose it will be an impossibility
to convince you that your Maldia is doing infinitely more harm than
good with its senseless code of slaughter and more slaughter. That is
all it will ever succeed in bringing to our suffering planet!"

Telis held his peace. There was nothing he could say to refute the High
Superior that was not based on obedience to life-long prejudices, and
he somehow felt that those arguments would be wasted on such a man as
now sat before him.

"Yet I must try," the old priest continued, "to teach you the
difference between rightful pride and sinful, destructive arrogance.
I must try to make you see that these Tellurians you profess to hate
so...."

Here Telis' eyes sought the girl, but her expression told him nothing.
He looked back at the High Superior.

"... that you profess to hate so are now Laurr's only chance for
survival."

"Words," Telis said coldly.

The old man nodded slowly. "But true words. Words that can bring life
instead of death. Better words than you will ever hear in that barbaric
Maldia!" His old eyes seemed to bore through Telis now, stripping him
bare of intellectual barriers and misunderstanding. "We could," the
priest mused, "turn you over to our psychologists and let them drive
the devils out of your mind...." He paused thoughtfully. "But no. That
would not be the same. You, yourself, must come to understand. You must
be allowed to learn of your mistaken ways without interference."

Telis frowned. "Abduction, then, is not interference."

"We regret the necessity. But the lack of time made it necessary. The
attack on the camp had to be delayed and the Maldia chose to act almost
too quickly," said the High Superior. "At least we have been able to
cause a delay of that wanton act."

"Now or later," said Telis carelessly. "It will come."

"And with it death to those who offer us redemption and life?"

"Redemption?" asked Telis hotly, his eyes full on the girl. "Slavery!"

The High Superior sank back in his chair wearily. "I should have
known," he muttered disgustedly. "Well, so be it, then. You will
remain here in Dorliss until we are able to evolve some scheme for the
protection of our friends. In time even you will see that we act for
the best good of Laurr.

"These other-worldlings have narrowly averted on their own world the
catastrophe of atomic war that wrecked ours. Hence, they are no longer
a warrior race. They have devoted themselves to science in ways that
we never knew even in the golden haads. Their technics can be our
salvation, if we are only intelligent enough to accept their offered
hand of friendship!"

Telis was listening with only half an ear now. A plan was forming in
his mind. A plan of escape.

"... remember that the races of both Terra and Laurr are sprung from
the loins of a single great transgalactic people," the High Superior
was saying, "and together they might one day rule the Solar System.
Think of it, Telis of Lars! Even the knowledge of interplanetary travel
will be ours if we join in brotherhood with Terra! All the might of our
Temple science could not achieve that in the short haads left to us ...
but the Tellurians offer it _now_! And the only payment they ask is
some of the deadly iron that eats away our atmosphere and drains us of
our precious water!

"Think of these things, young sir, until next we speak."

The old man sank back, exhausted by his speech and made a sign that
the audience was over. He knew somehow that he had failed ... and that
other measures were now in order.


                                  III

An hour before sunrise, Telis was awake and ready for action. He arose
and dressed himself, broke his fast on the remains of his late evening
meal, for he dared not guess how long it would be before he ate again.
He banged at the door of his apartment until an attendant appeared,
rubbing his eyes sleepily.

Telis made a long face. "I--I must see Brother Gorla," he demanded,
"the Priest who brought me here. I--I feel the need of spiritual
guidance."

The attendant, a Temple novice, showed benign pleasure at his words.

"Could I not be of service, my son?"

Telis shook his head. "The words of the High Superior have caused me to
reweigh the values of my long and sinful life. Brother Gorla has long
been my spiritual father and counsellor. I must see him." It was not
altogether a lie. The kindly old scientist's words had made him think
a bit, in spite of himself. The old man had seemed so sure. And Gorla
had long been his source of advice and even companionship for a good
five haads.

The novice was disappointed, but understanding. He departed to waken
Brother Gorla.

Three quarters of an hour of darkness remained when Gorla appeared at
the door. Telis met him, looking carefully up and down the hall to see
that they were alone. How careless these Temple people were with their
prisoners!

"Telis, my friend! What is it? Brother Alto said that you needed
some...." Gorla began.

Telis measured him carefully and swung. With all the power and
co-ordination of a soldier's superbly conditioned body behind it,
Telis' fist caught the Priest on the point of his jaw and knocked him
sprawling to the thick carpet. Quickly dropping to his knees, Telis
relieved the fallen man of his two swords and stun-gun. He strapped
them to his own harness and looked about for a means of reviving the
Priest. Taking the wine bottle from the table, he splashed some of the
dark fluid into Gorla's face. For a moment, Telis had the feeling that
it had all been too easy. But he drove the misgivings from his mind and
concentrated on the next steps in his break for freedom.

The young Priest sat up fingering his jaw gingerly. There was a
reproachful look in his eyes.

"Telis, you can't escape if that's what you intended by striking me.
Give me back my weapons."

Telis smiled savagely. "Oh, no, my good and faithful friend. Now get
up. Up I say, or I'll spit you where you lie!"

Gorla gave him a rueful smile. "By the Goddess, I believe you'd do it,
too."

"There is a girl here," Telis snapped. "What do you know about her?" If
the girl actually were a Tellurian, she would be an invaluable hostage.

"Girl?" Gorla looked puzzled.

"Quickly!"

"It's true that there is a girl here, but--"

"Who is she? Why was she brought here?" demanded Telis.

"She was found by one of our patrol sleds ... lost in the desert and
near dead. They picked her up and brought her here. Since then she has
remained ... voluntarily."

Telis gave a short, hard laugh. "You can do better than that, Gorla!"

The Priest shrugged. "Then why ask me if you don't intend to believe
the truth?"

"I'll hear it from her. We are leaving, friend, and she goes with us!"

Gorla shrugged again. "As you wish, Telis. There seems to be nothing I
can do to stop you."

"Then lead me to her quarters, and not a sound out of you, do you
understand?" Telis prodded the Priest gently with the short-sword.

"But command me, lord," muttered Gorla sarcastically. He picked himself
up off the floor. Telis snatched the cloak from his cassock and wrapped
it around the gleaming blade of the short-sword, still keeping the
point at the base of the Priest's spine.

"Don't force me to use this, Gorla," he hissed in the other's ear.

Gorla shook his head silently and led the way off down the corridor.
The early hour was well chosen, for the whole towering edifice seemed
to be deserted. Somehow, Telis felt, _too_ deserted. The whole
magnificent megalopolis that was Dorliss seemed to sleep serenely under
its mantle of invisibility.

In a tight silence, Gorla led Telis until they stood before a closed
door near the ground level.

"Open it," commanded Telis.

"I have no key," Gorla protested.

Cursing under his breath, Telis tried the doorlatch. To his surprise,
it gave easily and the door swung open. Telis lifted his sword,
half-expecting a trap, but no attack came from the darkness beyond the
portal. He shoved Gorla through and closed the door, the dark closing
in around them.

"A light," whispered Telis.

Gorla touched a switch on the wall and light flooded the room. On the
great bed near the far wall, the girl sat, bedclothes held to her
breast, staring at them curiously. It was strange, thought Telis, that
she showed no fear. And stranger still was the fact that her face was
encased now in a bag-like contraption made of the same unusual material
as the jumper he remembered seeing her wear. It was stretched tight by
internal pressure that apparently came from a small cylinder at her
bedside and connected to the mask by a flexible metal tube.

Some new and strange addiction, wondered Telis? It was not unknown
upon Laurr for some to succumb to the lure of narcotics, what with the
incessant warfare jangling the nerves and the ever-present spectre of
doom hanging over the whole planet. Telis himself had tasted gas from a
similar contraption on one of his hedonistic revels....

Whatever the drug was, he had seen her without the bag-like helmet in
the Central Temple. Addiction might account for her seeming illness
that he so well remembered from the previous day.

There was no sign of illness about her now! He stared at her, his
breath catching in his throat.

Exotic woman!

       *       *       *       *       *

Near at hand, her beauty was almost a living, tangible thing. Her hair
gleamed, and her skin was palely translucent, like purest alabaster.
The refraction of the light through the transparent mask surrounded her
face with a glowing nimbus that made Telis think of the solideographic
icons of the Goddess. Her lips were full, almost sensuous, and her
great dark eyes looked at him quizzically but unafraid.

"There is no time to explain," he said rapidly. "We are leaving this
place. Now."

She nodded without surprise, as though she had known exactly what he
was going to say.

Telis motioned for her to get up. For a moment she waited, but when
Telis showed no sign of turning around, she slipped out of bed and
covered herself quickly with the blouse and harness that lay on a
chair nearby. As she did so, she slipped the transparent mask off and,
even as Telis watched her appreciatively, he could see the illusion of
health fade from her face. A pinched look appeared, and a thin line of
blue formed around her mouth. She seemed short of breath.

The girl adjusted her harness about her, making sure that the contents
of each pouch were there. Then she slipped herself into the transparent
jumper and reached for the mask.

Telis caught her arm. "The mask stays here."

The girl looked perplexed. She looked to Gorla for aid. The young
Priest moved to intervene, but Telis motioned him aside. "No," Telis
spoke sharply. "You may have to fly an air-sled...." He paused. "You
can fly one, can't you?"

The girl nodded. "I have learned to fly one," she said. "But my
mask ... I need it!"

The girl's face looked stricken at the thought of leaving her precious
mask behind. But Telis hardened himself. He could not let this escape
be risked by her unpredictable actions. Besides, he had seen her in the
Temple without the mask, so it was not a matter of life and death for
her.

"The mask stays," Telis said flatly.

For a long moment there was something like sheer terror on the girl's
face. Then, as though by an effort of the will, she composed herself
and nodded her agreement. Telis was forced to admire her courage.

Gorla seemed to realize that any comments that he might make concerning
the mask _or_ the girl Telis would not believe, since for the moment
they found themselves enemies. He decided to maintain a discreet
silence and hope for the best.

"And now, friend Gorla," ordered Telis, "lead us to the landing field
and get us an air-sled. It is a long way back to the capital and I have
no intention of trying to make it on sith-back, not as long as your
Temple Guards are so handy with the aircraft."

Like a bemused sleepwalker, Gorla led the way out of the building and
through the dark streets. No beam of light now penetrated the light
shield surrounding the Temple City, and Telis found the protecting
darkness much to his liking. The drowsy guards at the gate looked
curiously at the trio, but, recognizing Brother Gorla, made no effort
to stop them.

Soon they were at the landing field and Gorla had run out the very
air-sled that had brought Telis to the Temple City. Telis stepped into
the forward cockpit and tested the jet. It came readily to life under
his practised hands, and he motioned Gorla and the girl in beside him.

"Fly low," the girl said almost pleadingly.

He laid the stun-gun within easy reach and turned to Gorla. "Not that I
don't trust you, my old friend," he said with a thin smile, "but I will
feel much more comfortable if you are well-behaved while I am flying."

Gorla made no reply. He merely shrugged and wrapped himself in his
cassock as best he could.

Telis glanced around at the sleeping field. Far across the landing area
lights were flashing on. The sound of the air-sled's jet had awakened
the attendants, and soon they would be giving the alarm. But there
was no chance for anyone to stop them now. Almost disdainfully, Telis
shoved the throttle forward on the quadrant and the jet roared. With a
hissing of runners, the sled moved swiftly across the red sand and into
the air.

Zooming low over the buildings at the far end of the field, the sled
drove out into the blackness. Then with breathtaking suddenness, it
slashed through the light shield and the lights of Dorliss vanished
while the heavens came alive with the early morning stars.

Telis pointed the sled's blunt nose at the hatefully beautiful morning
star that was Terra riding low on the eastern horizon. Presently, he
levelled the craft and reduced his speed to maximum cruising power.
Just skimming the reddish dunes, they sped eastward, into the sudden
glory of the desert dawn....


                                  IV

At noon, Telis took time to search the sled's storage locker. Turning
the controls over to the girl, he crawled across the bare deck into the
rear cockpit. Most sleds that were used for over-desert flying carried
emergency rations and weapons for the use of anyone unfortunate
enough to need them. In the matter of weapons, he was doomed to
disappointment, for this particular sled carried none. But there was
a small packet of concentrates, and a flask of precious water. Telis
gathered the packet in his arms and turned to start back toward the
forward cockpit.

He stopped short. From his vantage point behind her, Telis could see
that the girl had taken a small cube from her pouch and was holding
it to her ear. For several seconds she sat quite still, as though
listening, then she turned the cube, held it to her lips for a moment,
and returned it to the pouch at her belt.

He scrambled back to his place beside her, demanding, "That cube. What
was it?"

"Cube?"

"In there." Telis touched the pouch that hung at her side.

"You must have been mistaken. There is no cube," she said, "Perhaps you
saw me checking my compass...." She reached into the pouch and drew out
a small magnetic compass in a square metal case. "You see?"

Telis frowned. It was possible that he had been mistaken ... but he was
inwardly almost certain that the compass he held in his hand was not
the cube he had seen the girl using. For a moment he toyed with the
idea of searching her, but reconsidered. The sled would not touch the
ground again until it landed in the capital near the Grand Canal. There
was no possible way that the girl could harm him or interfere with his
plans now. And perhaps the cube was a happy-gas inhaler....

He looked searchingly into the girl's face. She looked as though she
could use some stimulant. The blue about her mouth and the tight,
pinched look in her face seemed to have worsened since leaving Dorliss.
She actually looked ill. She gave him a wan smile, and he decided to
question her no more for the present.

Opening the packet of concentrates, he offered her one and passed the
pack to Gorla. Then he passed the water flask around, cautioning them
to drink sparingly.

As the hours passed and the sun began to slide down toward the western
hills, Telis began to worry about their navigation. Not knowing the
exact location of the Temple City, he could only guess at the proper
course for the capital; and the low altitude made navigating very
difficult. Telis decided to climb higher and see if he could not catch
a glimpse of the Grand Canal or some other familiar landmark. He nosed
the sled upward slightly and edged the throttle forward, sending the
sled upward toward the cobalt sky.

The girl was looking down over the side at the desert rushing by.
Though there was nothing to be seen but rust-red sand, something about
the desolate waste seemed to please her.

Telis touched her arm to attract her attention. "We've been together
almost all day and I don't even know your name," he said. "I am Telis
of Lars...."

The girl smiled back at him. "My name is Leslie Karr," she returned.

Leslie. Telis turned the name on his tongue. It had a foreign flavor.
As exotic and lovely as the girl herself. And two names. Leslie and
Karr. Telis found the last hard to pronounce. Now, he wondered, why two
names? She must be a person of consequence in her home land.

Telis thought of the cube. Perhaps a signalling device. A thought
struck him. The Temple? No, it was not likely. A nagging doubt
remained. He recalled uneasily how simple the escape had been. Too
simple. Was this girl an agent of the Temple? Or had his first
suspicion--that she was a Tellurian--been right?

"Telis," Gorla broke the silence, "can you tell me where we are?"

Telis shook his head.

"Why are we climbing?" Leslie asked. She looked afraid. "Please--I--I
asked you to--"

Telis cut her off almost sharply. "I know what you asked me. But we
must get high enough to have a look around us. To be lost out here
would mean the end for all of us; an unpleasant end, too. It will only
be for a short time."

Leslie dropped into an uneasy silence. Higher and higher the air-sled
climbed until at last Telis levelled the aircraft off and began a
systematic search of the horizon to the east. There was no sign of the
greenery that edged the great water-way.

"Telis!" Gorla's shout cut across the roaring of the wind. "Leslie!
Look at her!"

       *       *       *       *       *

Telis whirled to look at the girl. The strange malady from which she
suffered had chosen this moment to strike her down. For a moment Telis
was shocked. Never had he seen a happy-gas addict react in this way!
The thin line of blue that surrounded her mouth was deeper, staining
her lips and spreading to tinge her whole face with azure. Her eyes
were closed and her breath came in huge rasping gasps. Gorla was
cradling her in his arms, chafing her wrists and trying to force water
through her slack lips. He looked up at Telis, shouting frantically!

"Down! Down, Telis! We have to get her down low!"

For a moment Telis did not understand, then he realized what was meant
and shoved the sled over into a steep dive. The girl was suffering from
oxygen-starvation. She seemed to suffer from it chronically, and if the
sled did not reach denser air soon she would die! That was the reason
she had feared altitude and had begged that the sled be kept low.

And Gorla knew!

Suddenly the whole improbable picture of the escape flashed before
Telis' eyes, and a sick feeling swept over him.

In a panic Gorla whipped out a transmitter and began to shout into it.
Fearing the girl's death, his instructions were forgotten and he began
broadcasting for help. Telis stared for a moment, not understanding.
The radio devices used by the Temple were unknown to him, but he knew
with an instinctive certainty that Gorla was making contact with the
Temple Guard back in Dorliss. The rumors he had heard of the Temple's
methods of quick communication seemed to ring in his ears and fury
took him by the throat. Why hadn't Gorla used the radio before? Was it
because the whole escape was a monstrous hoax, engineered by the Temple
for the purpose of somehow shattering the Maldia and what it stood for?
The answer was a blazing, irrevocable yes!

And to what extent was Leslie Karr involved? In his fury, Telis could
not think clearly enough to guess. He had the helpless feeling of great
wheels containing smaller wheels and all spinning and whirring for some
darkly unknown purpose....

He snatched the transmitter from Gorla's hand and slammed it over the
side. Sick anger filled him. The Temple must at this very moment know
their exact location from that tell-tale signal that Gorla had sent in
his panic for Leslie! What a fool he had been with his escape and his
cleverness! How they must be laughing at him back in Dorliss!

"May the Goddess damn you!" he gritted at Gorla.

"You fool!" the Priest retorted, his round face livid. "You've killed
her with your stupid plottings and your...."

"She will live," snapped Telis. He knew how to deal with anoxia. Long
campaigns in the air forces of the Laurr had taught him. But the rest
of it ... the debt to be settled with Gorla ... that was something else!

His fury made him careless, and as the sled touched the sand, it almost
overturned, skidding and careening over the red sand until at last
it came to rest at a crazy angle on the slope of a low dune. The jet
coughed and died, its nozzle jammed with sand.

Quickly, Telis lifted the insensate girl in his arms and laid her
on the sand at full length. For just a moment he wondered at her
weight ... she seemed almost twice as heavy as she should be for her
size....

Then the urgency of the moment was upon him, and he knelt at her side,
placed his lips on hers and began forcing air into her lungs with his
own. Presently she stirred and Telis knew with a feeling of great
relief that she would recover.

He wrapped her in Gorla's cloak, for the sun was sinking low and the
night chill was already in the air.

Then he turned to face the Priest, memory rekindling his fury. He
caught the man by his cassock and pulled him close. "Now, Gorla, you'll
tell me the whole story--all of it!" His voice was icy with suppressed
anger.

But Gorla's eyes were not on him. Instead they seemed centered on
something above and behind him. The Priest's features contorted with a
sudden fear, and he twisted around, pulling Telis with him.

"Look out!"

       *       *       *       *       *

The warning came too late. The sudden twist had saved Telis' life, but
the flashing missile caught him in the shoulder. A searing pain blazed
through Telis, and he spun around, staggered by the impact of the
thrown short-sword that had pierced his shoulder.

Through a dancing haze of agony, Telis could see a ragged line of naked
men and women on the crest of the dune. Each carried a short-sword and
a long-sword, and the bodies were filthy and covered with rank hair.

Guski!

A lank women lifted her arm and pitched her short-sword. It struck in
the sand near Leslie Karr's prostrate body. Telis threw himself on
the girl, protecting her body with his own. With pain lancing through
him from the blade that still impaled him, he freed one of his swords
and his stun-gun, throwing them to Gorla. Their personal quarrel was
forgotten in the heat of the attack.

Blood was flowing out of him. Gritting his teeth to keep from crying
out, Telis twisted the imbedded sword free. With a sobbing moan he
dropped it to the sand. He fought back the blackness that threatened to
engulf him. Gorla must not fight alone!

The Priest had sought the shelter of the air-sled and was shooting
handily at the attackers on the crest. Already he had accounted for
three men and a woman, and several of their companions, not knowing
or caring that the stun-gun did not kill, had withdrawn from the fray
to butcher the fallen ones into long strips of bloody meat which they
stuffed hungrily into their mouths.

Telis felt Leslie stir, and he struggled to his feet and helped her to
the sled.

With surprising quickness she adapted herself to the necessities of
battle. She took a peculiar looking pistol from her pouch and levelled
it at the attackers.

A sharp report burst from the weapon in the girl's hand and, on the
crest of the dune, a Guski woman shrieked and pitched to the sand.
Twelve times this process was repeated, and Telis began to have hopes
that the battle would be won before he, himself, collapsed from loss of
blood.

It was a vain hope. After the twelfth explosion, the weapon fell
silent, and the strange performance was over.

There was a tense lull during which the Guski butchered their dead, and
Gorla tried fruitlessly to start the dead motor of the sled. Then the
Guski began to close in, and Gorla and Telis both were forced to leave
the sled and advance to meet them. Leslie stayed near the aircraft,
digging frantically at the jammed jet.

To Telis, his sword seemed suddenly very, very heavy. He touched Gorla
on the shoulder. "At least ... we'll die ... friends ... together," he
muttered.

Gorla's face contorted with grief. "Friends ... always, Telis. I never
felt any other way," he said simply.

There was no time for more. The Guski were upon them--a savage,
shrieking horde of vile-smelling beasts, hungering for the taste of
human meat.

[Illustration: _Then the cannibal-people were upon them--a savage,
shrieking horde._]

Time seemed to stand still. Telis thrust and slashed, cut and parried
endlessly. Pain was his only reality. Faces appeared before him, and
vanished into gouts of red as his blade found marks. Steadily his
strength failed and finally he dropped to his knees, still lashing out
feebly with his weapon.

Suddenly the cacophony of battle was overwhelmed by the jerky, uneven
barking of an ailing jet. Leslie had cleared the nozzle! Startled and
fearful of the jet flame, the Guski shrank back momentarily. In that
moment, Gorla half-dragged, half-carried Telis to the sled. Telis could
feel the movement of the sled as it coursed lamely across the sand,
trying to gain flying speed. He heard Leslie gasp:

"It's no use, Gorla. It can't lift the three of us with the jet
half-clogged."

Gorla's voice came sharp and clear. "Then I stay. Take him on. That's
the important thing. He must be made to see...."

Telis realized with agonizing helplessness that since the sled could
not lift three persons Gorla was remaining behind. To face the Guski!

He tried to cry out his protest, but he was too weak to do more than
moan.

"Can you find the way?" Gorla asked the girl.

"I have maps. There's the transmitter, too. I can come in on D-F fixes.
But what about you?"

"Never mind me ... remember, the fate of my world goes with you ... and
with Telis. Explain that to him ... after he knows...."

Telis heard the motor speed up again, and he felt the bumping of the
runners on the sand. But he was unconscious before the sled lifted into
the air....


                                   V

For what seemed a long time, Telis floated in throbbing darkness. Pain
spun in little wind-devils of fire across the surface of his mind and
it was not physical pain alone. Two thoughts tortured him constantly.
He had failed the Maldia and he had deserted his friend, leaving him to
die at the hands of the cannibal tribesmen.

Aeons swept by in that timeless, vitalizing darkness, and at last Telis
opened his eyes.

For a moment he thought that he was back in the Central Temple of
Dorliss, but as his eyes focused more clearly, he saw that he was in a
small, neatly bare room. The walls were white, and one of them seemed
to curve gently overhead until it met the first plane of the ceiling.

A cool hand was stroking his forehead, and Telis turned to meet the
eyes of Leslie Karr. She sat at his bedside watchfully, and somehow he
knew that she had been there for a long time.

Her clothing was different than he remembered. Her harness was gone.
Now, her supple figure was clad in a straight tunic of dark metallic
cloth that hung from her shoulders to the middle of her thighs, caught
at her small waist by a linked belt. Her dark hair was swept back from
her face, exposing her small, elfin ears. There was a look of health
and vitality about her that was amazing when Telis recalled her
condition in the air-sled.

"Wh ... what magic is this?" he asked.

Leslie smiled. "No magic," she said. "Only some decent air."

Telis drew a deep breath: It was true. The air was different ... and
wondrous. Vitality filled him and with it came a thousand questions.
Where was he? What was this place? What had happened after the fight on
the desert? And the question he most wanted answered--what of Gorla?

Leslie laid a warning hand over his lips and cautioned him against
spending his new found strength too prodigally. He was healing, she
told him, and within a very few days he would be able to be up and
around. At that time, all his questions would be answered. This last
she told him with something like reluctance in her voice.

Plainly, wherever they were, Leslie was at home here.

The days passed almost too swiftly. Strange men came and went, giving
him odd medications and dressing his wound. All his questions were
tactfully avoided. Yet their concern for a stranger was confusing to
Telis. By the code that Telis had lived his six haads with, a stranger
was ipso facto an enemy. According to that tenet he had lived and
had become a great soldier and a high officer of the Laurr of Laurr
himself. Now here were strangers treating him with kindness ... and
their kindness was striking at the roots of everything he had ever
believed. And there was Leslie. She remained with him constantly,
tending him and comforting him with her presence. Telis felt himself
losing his heart to this exotic girl with her kindness and her
breathtaking beauty.

       *       *       *       *       *

Four days passed and then his confinement was over. He was able to rise
from his hospital cot. His harness was brought to him, and even his
weapons. If proof were needed, Telis thought, the act of returning his
weapons proved that he was among friends. And true friends they must
be, for they had nursed him and fed him, and he could not forget that
his friend had been willing to remain behind alone to face the Guski so
that he, Telis, might be brought here. And that recalled the burning
question mark. _Why?_

When he had dressed himself, Leslie came into the room. Her face was
sombre. "Telis," she began, "I have something that I must tell you
before you leave this room. Believe me, it is not easy. You see, I ...
I have not been honest with you.... Not that I have lied. Believe me, I
haven't. But...." She broke off momentarily in confusion. Her face was
flushed. "I have let you mislead yourself, and that's very like lying,
isn't it?" She did not wait for a reply, but rushed on. "Now I have
to stand by and watch you find out who and what I am. Oh, believe me,
I have no wish to hurt you or your people, Telis. I couldn't ...
now ... because I ... I...." She bit her lips. "All this is necessary.
You had to be convinced, you see, because of your great influence with
the Laurr...." She gave a short, nervous laugh. "All this isn't making
very much sense, is it?"

"No," replied Telis, puzzled.

"You know by now that you were tricked into coming here. It was all
planned by us and by the Temple...."

Telis felt the blood drain from his face. He knew exactly what was
coming next. The whole incredible picture was clear.

"Oh, Telis," cried Leslie. "Please understand! Gorla understood ...
and he gave his life so that we could make _you_ see! Can't you see
what I am trying to tell you? Can't you see that if you help us we can
bring life back to Laurr? And that if you won't it might mean ages of
senseless warfare? Telis ... _try_...."

Telis of Lars stared. It all came flooding back to him. All the
tiny, irrelevant pieces of the puzzle. The mask back in Dorliss! A
respirator! Her need for oxygen ... the anoxia that struck her down in
the air-sled ... the rich air of this room! Her weight ... the greater
density of a heavy gravity planet's evolution! Alien, alien!

Leslie Karr could feel the barrier rising between them and she cried
out against it. Tears streaked her face, and even that added to Telis'
sense of alienage. Laurrians did not weep. The water in their bodies
was far too precious for that. It was all too grotesque! He, the former
leader of the Maldia, beholden to the invaders for his very life!

Then the shock began to wear off, and his mind to function more
clearly. This place with its sloping wall was a compartment in the
Tellurian spacecraft, that much was now obvious. Yet they had trusted
him within it ... armed. And they had been kind to him, they had nursed
him back to health after the Guski's wound almost killed him. Why? It
was not enough that he had great influence with the Laurr. He had had
the feeling that they _liked_ him. Could it be, he wondered, that the
whole basic philosophy of the Maldia was in error? The Temple spoke of
mighty Tellurian science. Could it actually do what the High Superior
of Dorliss claimed? Redeem the planet and give it hope again?

And there was Leslie. In that moment of introspection, Telis knew with
a distinct shock that, Tellurian or not, he loved her. Telis of Lars,
peer of the ancient realm of Laurr, member of the dread, anti-Tellurian
Maldia, was in love with an alien woman! Creature of another
world--different and strange--and yet he loved her! Standing there,
watching her tears course down her cheeks, he felt his heart constrict,
and he knew that she had won.

"Please, Telis--my Telis--let me show that we can be friends!" she
cried.

Telis stared at her. "Friends?" he asked thickly.

Leslie took a step nearer, her eyes suddenly wide, almost afraid. It
came to Telis in a blinding flash of insight that she too was feeling
the soul-wrenching conflicts of love for an alien creature. To her
Telis was the exotic, the outlander.

Then like the snapping of a steel wire, the barrier was broken, and
she was in his arms, returning his kisses with an almost desperate
abandon....

       *       *       *       *       *

The Tellurian camp was a revelation to Telis. Guided by Leslie and
a group of Tellurian scientists, he beheld machines such as had not
existed on the surface of Laurr for ten thousand haads. Here, among the
squat, pressurized domes of the camp were the end-products of all the
theories the Temple had salvaged from the lost books of the ancients.

Power was drawn from the destruction of infinitesimal particles of
matter by a mysterious process the scientist referred to as "fission,"
and Telis found to his surprise that Leslie was not a noblewoman as
he had supposed, but something called a "metallurgist." These terms
meant nothing to him, but the teeming activity of the camp and the
matter of fact way in which miracles were daily performed made him
begin to understand what the High Superior had meant when he had said
that together the races of Terra and Laurr might one day rule the solar
system. The machines and the magnificent, graceful projectile that was
the spaceship fired Telis' imagination.

If any doubt remained in his mind, it was shattered irretrievably when
Leslie showed him the mining operations. Thus far, they had begun only
on an experimental basis, the Tellurians wisely wary of extending
themselves before permission to remain was granted by the Laurr. But,
even on a small scale, what Telis saw stirred him more deeply than had
any of the other wondrous things he had been shown.

Since the deserts of Laurr were almost pure iron oxide, it was
explained to him that they were the result of the ubiquitous iron's
propensity for uniting with oxygen. The result, after many aeons,
was that the air was actually rusting away. By the marvelous miracle
of Tellurian chemistry, the iron oxide was broken down into its
constituent elements. This resulted in a stream of iron ingots, and ...
free oxygen!

Telis was quick to realize what this process would mean to Laurr
over a period of time if it was made universal. Great quantities of
the precious oxygen would be released into the air to revitalize it,
and later to combine with the large amounts of hydrogen in Laurr's
atmosphere to form water!

The Tellurians had in fact already set up a pilot plant where oxygen
and hydrogen were mixed to make the water they needed for their own
purposes. Part of it was used for drinking and bathing, and part was
used for puddling the iron oxide before it was passed through the
separation process. Great pressure hoses washed the impurities from
the ferric oxide even as Telis watched, astounded. Never had a Laurrian
seen precious water treated so carelessly, but with a great effort he
was able to acclimate himself finally to an economy of plentiful water,
and the sight of great streams of it churning the desert to reddish mud
shocked him less and less as the days passed.

Only two thoughts marred Telis' happiness during these days spent in
the camp. First the thought of Gorla's fate remained with him always,
and he resolved that his friend's sacrifice should not be for nothing.
And, second, there was the Maldia. Now, with Prince Brand at its head,
it was more than ever a threat to the safety of the people from the
third planet, to himself, to the Laurr and by extension to the world of
Laurr itself.

Telis resolved that he must return immediately to the capital and lay
his findings before the Laurr. Only in that way could the danger of
the Maldia be removed. With the safe-conduct from the supreme ruler
confirmed publicly, the Maldia would not dare to attack the camp.

The air-sled was repaired, and Telis made ready to leave the following
morning over the protests of Leslie and the camp medical staff who
contended that his wound was not yet sufficiently healed.

But Telis' resolution had come too late. Even as the sled was loaded, a
shout from the watchtower brought the whole camp out into the streets.
With sinking heart Telis heard the words of the camp guard. The Maldia
had come, and the camp found itself surrounded.


                                  VI

Telis hurried with Leslie to the watchtower and his horrified eyes
looked out over the surrounding desert. Fully five thousand Guski men
and women surrounded them, led by at least five hundred well-armed and
sith-mounted warriors. Telis recognized many of them as his former
comrades of the Maldia. And Prince Brand was there. Telis felt a hot
wave of hate for the man.

Thus far, they had made no move to attack, and that in itself showed
the characteristic mark of Brand's leadership. With a force of fifty
five hundred fighting men against an even two hundred poorly-armed men
and women, mostly elderly scientists, Brand still chose to proceed with
caution lest the unexpected defeat him....

Telis started. The unexpected!

He let his mind harken back to the stories the older Temple Priest
told of the mythical coming of the Water Goddess. And he thought of
the books he had read dealing with the forgotten science of weather on
Laurr....

Quickly he called a meeting of all the department heads. Leadership
fell on his shoulders like a cloak, for among all these learned men and
women he was the only warrior.

One woman suggested that all the personnel of the camp move into the
spaceship and that they lift the craft into the air, spraying the
attackers with the deadly radioactive exhaust gases. But the ship's
navigator vetoed that idea quickly. There was fuel enough only for the
return flight to Terra when next the two planets came into conjunction.
Moreover, such a move would destroy the camp and all its machinery,
negating the entire purpose of the expedition.

It was then that Telis stepped forward with his plan. The Tellurians
seemed doubtful that it would work, but Leslie who had been among the
Laurrians more than the rest of them, convinced them that they could
lose nothing by trying.

"Telis is of Laurr," she said to them, "and he knows the ways and
beliefs of his people. I, for one, think that his plan is our only
hope. Outnumbered as we are, and by savage fighting men and women, our
only chance is fear. It saved our lives before, and can again!"

When the technicians had left to modify the necessary equipment, Telis
summoned the non-essential able-bodied men. Arming them with the few
Tellurian powder-guns that were available and with whatever cutting
weapons came to hand, he made ready to lead them out to meet the
attackers. Time was needed. Telis and his respirator-masked, make-shift
company determined to gain that time.

He stationed his men near the main gate to the camp and walked slowly
out toward the masked attackers, tensely aware that at last Prince
Brand had him at a real disadvantage.

Knowing that to convince these caste-ridden fanatics and savage
cannibals that the attack should not be launched, would be next to
impossible, Telis evolved a stratagem that might save a few precious
moments. The warlike society of Laurr had developed a very strict code
duello. As it was among most warrior civilizations, "honor" or "face"
were of the utmost importance. He, himself, by disappearing on the eve
of the Maldia's planned attack had lost face. Now, he resolved to turn
this fact into a weapon against his attackers.

"Ho! Brand, there!" he hailed. "Come forward!"

Prince Brand squinted across the distance to see if he could recognize
the speaker. Slowly, recognition came, and with it a fulsome
satisfaction. This was better than he could have hoped for!

"So it is my Lord Telis returned from the realm of the Goddess to guide
our hand against the invaders!" he smirked. "Come! Join us, illustrious
phantom. We are about to complete the work you so nobly began the night
you decided not to risk yourself!"

       *       *       *       *       *

For a moment there was a silence among the noblemen of the Maldia,
and then the laughter started. It was what Telis had expected. It was
ironic, bitter laughter for one who had failed the warrior's code. To
these men he was a coward. Even the naked savages laughed, though they
did not understand the reason for it.

Telis' fury rose under the goading mirth, but he knew with some
satisfaction that all the palaver was taking up precious minutes,
stalling the attack that he could hold at bay only with his wits.

"You, Brand," said Telis slowly and distinctly, "are a usurping
rogue. Your mother was a she-sith and your father a Guski slave of
questionable ancestry. You are a coward and a pandering lackey!"

A sudden quiet settled on the serried ranks and Telis continued with
his insulting monologue.

"I challenge you to fight me here and now--so that I can strip the
harness from your puffy carcass and throw it to the siths! Refuse, and
I will come and get you!"

A low moan of rage rose from the ranks of the nobles. Never had a
high-born prince been so grossly and deliberately insulted. According
to their code, there was only one possible answer, and they awaited it
with eagerness. Brand must fight.

But Prince Brand was no fool. He knew Telis for a swordsman, and he
strongly suspected some sort of trickery from the too-silent camp.
Still, he knew that Telis must be punished and before the troops or his
hold over them would fail. It could be done without placing himself in
jeopardy for the sake of a gallant gesture.

He turned to an equerry. "Bring him to me. Dead or alive."

Telis heard, and gave an insulting laugh. "Preferably dead, eh, Brand?"

The equerry looked pained. He turned to Brand. "Sir, he has offered a
challenge. It would be in very bad form to...."

"Bring him!" Brand snapped testily. "If you are afraid, take a
company...."

The officer stiffened. "I am not afraid, sir--though others are!" He
wheeled his sith and trotted toward Telis.

"Get back, Captain," ordered Telis. "My quarrel is not with you!"

"Ride him down!" called Brand.

The officer unsheathed his lance and laid it in rest. Levelling it at
Telis, he dug his booted heels into the sith's flanks and thundered
across the sand, leaning low in the saddle.

Telis stood braced and, just as the animal came abreast of him,
he stepped aside, catching the tip of the lance under his arm and
whirling. The movement of the weapon overbalanced the officer and he
tumbled from the saddle to sprawl in the sand. With a mortified howl
of rage, the man was on his feet and upon Telis, but his fury made him
careless. Telis' sword flashed out and the point found the officer's
sword arm, piercing it neatly and ending the encounter with a flourish.

Telis turned to face the attackers once again. "Now Brand," he taunted,
"will you come out to do your own dying? Or will you send another
lackey to take the steel meant for you?"

Brand's heavy face darkened. For answer he raised his hands to the
buglers.

"Attack!"

The force swept forward like a great tawny wave, shrieking and cursing.
Telis stared aghast. An attack he had been expecting, and even the
possibility of the Maldia finally taking the camp had occurred to him.
But that fifty five hundred roaring madmen would attack one man was
more than he had prepared himself for.

Death seemed a certainty, and a fleeting image of Leslie swept across
his mind. He lifted his futile swords and murmured a prayer to the
Goddess....

       *       *       *       *       *

It was answered. The rain came like a gift from heaven. From the
nozzles of the camp's pressure hoses there poured a great effluvium of
pure, cold, water. It rose in a graceful curve high into the air and
spilled down to lash the red sand into a morass and spray the attackers.

Telis himself was caught up in the wonder of it. And the effect on the
Maldia's fighting force of Guski was nothing short of miraculous. The
charging savages pulled up, faces lifted to the sky in mute amazement.
Then came fear--shrieking, mad, insensate terror! Rain was falling
where no rain had fallen for ten thousand haads! The Goddess had opened
up the flood gates of heaven and the stuff of the sky was falling down
on a sinful Laurr! Dropping their weapons, they fled out into the
desert--away from the accursed place that the Goddess had chosen to
enchant! And, in their flight, they carried the mounted nobles of the
Maldia, cursing, shouting, trying to regroup their shattered cohorts.

Telis stood in the downpour, his body tingling to the touch of the
precious water. He was thinking not that this trick of Tellurian
technics had saved his life; rather he was thinking of Laurr and what
this could mean to the planet. The deserts could be conquered, the
world could be redeemed!

Presently, the water stopped and a Tellurian from his company ran
forward to shout: "Telis! Look there! Aircraft!"

Telis looked skyward, and the door to the future seemed to slam shut in
his mind. Fully two hundred air-sleds were beating rapidly toward them.
The Maldia again ... more of them?

Telis looked out into the desert. The mounted force had abandoned the
attempt to regroup the demoralized Guski, but it had formed into a
phalanx and was returning to the attack.

Automatically, but without real hope, Telis motioned his men into
extended order. They were caught between two forces, helpless between
the sith-mounted Maldia and the airborne contingent. The irony of it
caught at his breast painfully. It was bitter hard to die just at the
brink of a golden age ... a golden age that would never come now.

Now he could make out Brand's face far to the rear of the mounted
column. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw that the sleds were almost
upon them, too. Telis braced himself for the attack.

Then, with a roar of jets, the air armada passed low over his head and
began disgorging warriors onto the rapidly narrowing strip of sand
between him and the Maldia. For a moment Telis was stunned by the
strangeness of the maneuvers ... and then his astonished eyes caught
the gleam of the device blazoned on the grounded sleds. It was the
Sword and Atom of the Temple!

With a glad cry he leaped forward to greet the Temple Guardsmen.
Snatched from the brink of disaster, the camp now revelled in a surfeit
of friendly warriors! The Maldia halted in confusion and air-sleds
moved out to cut off their escape.

Telis searched the ranks of the Temple troops for some explanation of
this seeming miracle ... and his eyes found a familiar figure. It was
battered and bandaged but unmistakably ... Gorla!

He caught the priest by the arm and spun him around with a shout. The
familiar round face reddened with pleasure and he threw his free arm
around Telis.

"You've healed, Telis!" he cried. "And in more ways than one!" he added
significantly. "I see you leading the defense instead of the attack!"

"I've been a thick headed fool, Gorla! But you ... how are you here?
I--"

"You thought me meat for those Guski back on the desert that night?"

Telis nodded.

The Priest laughed. "By the Goddess! I thought you were going to get up
and give us trouble that night! I suppose I should be thankful for your
wound. You never would have left me otherwise!"

"But, how did you ..." Telis began.

"The Temple takes care of its own, Telis, my friend," said Gorla.
"We were being followed at a distance all the way from Dorliss by a
guardship. Of course, when you threw my transmitter over the side,
they lost us. But you were the one who had to be convinced about these
Tellurians. So I stayed. There were a few bad moments ... once or twice
I thought the Guski had me cold, but the guardship was searching and
it found me before the brutes could finish me off. Since then, we have
been standing by at Dorliss, waiting for the Maldia to move."

"And here you are, thank the Goddess!" breathed Telis.

They stood surrounded by Temple Guardsmen and Tellurians watching the
air-sleds break up the sith-mounted force of the Maldia. The back of
the assault was broken. Riderless animals careened about wildly through
the confusion, and people were pouring out of the camp to greet their
liberators.

"Who led them?" asked Gorla indicating the sullen nobles.

Telis looked around for Prince Brand, but he was nowhere to be seen.
Then his sharp eyes caught a cloud of dust moving rapidly across the
desert. It would be Brand. He alone, of all the Maldia, was cynic
enough and coward enough to throw over the battle-to-death code at the
first sign of opposition.

With an oath, Telis caught at a sith and swung into the saddle.
"There!" he shouted to Gorla, pointing. "If he escapes the Maldia will
form again!" Telis kicked the sith savagely, and the animal plunged
off in pursuit of the fleeing renegade.

At full speed the sith carried Telis out into the desert. For half an
hour, there was no loss or gain, Prince Brand's animal holding its lead
tenaciously. Already, the Prince had turned to see that he was being
followed. But Telis' beast was fresher, and now began to narrow the
distance.

They were well away from the camp when Telis caught up. Riding in, he
cut across the path of Brand's animal, forcing it to break step. Brand
slashed wildly at him but Telis parried and dodged in under the other's
guard. Then, hooking his knee under that of the struggling Prince, he
heaved upward and dislodged him from the saddle so that he tumbled to
the sand.

Telis reined in the sith and leaped to the ground. Brand was already on
his feet, sword in hand, his face contorted with fear and rage. Telis
advanced steadily, hate coursing through him.

       *       *       *       *       *

If Brand had been a faintheart before, he was not now when his life
depended on his skill and cunning. Even as their swords crossed,
Telis knew that his work was cut out for him. There was no sound but
the clash of steel and the labored breathing of the two men as they
locked in combat. For almost a quarter of an hour they fenced without
appreciable gain on either side. But Telis was younger, and the strain
was beginning to tell on Brand. He knew that he must win quickly or die.

Stepping back, Brand snatched the helmet from his head and threw it
full at Telis' face. Telis' sword made a glittering arc in the sunlight
as it caught the missile and knocked it aside. But for the moment he
left himself unguarded, and Brand lunged in to sink his point into
Telis' naked thigh.

Telis staggered but did not fall; the painful wound stung him, and
Brand, thinking that he had scored a telling blow, launched a furious
attack. Telis backed steadily across the sand, leaving a trail of
blood. He measured the pace carefully and, when Brand paused to catch
his breath, Telis feinted at his head. Brand's blade came jerkily up
to meet the thrust, and Telis stooped, whirled his point under Brand's
guard and lunged with all his force.

The blade sank deep into Brand's chest. Telis stepped back and slipped
it free. The renegade stood for a moment, staring unbelievingly at the
wound in his chest that bubbled a bloody froth. His arms stiffened and
the swords he held dropped noiselessly to the sand. Very deliberately,
he sank to his knees, still staring at the wound, then he pitched
forward into the sand face-downward. He was dead.

Telis sought his sith wearily and mounted. He turned back toward the
camp without another look at Brand. All the fury and excitement of
battle was washed out of him, and he felt very tired.

The gentle movement of the sith's gait helped to steady him. He rode
slowly along, looking out over the wastes of the Great Red Desert,
envisioning the land as it would be one day ... green and fertile,
alive under a sky no longer starkly clear, but laced with clouds that
would bring soft rains and stirring life from the land.

He topped the final rise and before him was the Tellurian camp and
the tall, beautiful projectile of the spaceship. The throngs of mixed
Laurrian and Tellurians were shouting and cheering the end of the
struggle.

Now the future seemed assured. Telis promised himself that the future
of the Tellurians on Laurr would be one with his own. And someday, he
thought, perhaps he would see Terra--or even the stars!

It would be a great task, he reflected, this changing the face and fate
of a dying world. But together the redeemers and the redeemed could
work it out. Telis knew somehow that the thing would be done.

A figure detached itself from the crowd and ran towards him, calling
his name. It was Leslie. With a quickened pace he made his way toward
her. The door to the future opened, and he stepped through without
looking back.



*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "Warrior Maid of Mars" ***

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