The Amtrack Wars - Earth Thunder Part 13

'I've a feeling it won't be the last,' said Cadillac.

Roz ran a teasing finger down his bare chest. 'So how can I make it up to you?"

'I can think of several ways,' said Cadillac. 'But first, this pale imitation of a warrior needs a paint job."

Protective colouring was not the only thing they needed.

The long journey Cadillac had in mind called for horses and some extra security en route. There was little doubt that Roz Could ward off almost any threat they were likely to meet but Cadillac was looking for a way to keep trouble at arms' length. He had seen how the act of summoning earth-magic had left both Mr Snow and Clearwater physically weakened and looking utterly drained.

All these gifts had their price, and just as Brickman had insisted on the need to husband Clearwater's power, so it was with Cadillac now.

Roz did not know why or how she was able to warp people's sense of reality, she just did it.

But would it always be instantly available? Summoners could not produce an endless stream of earth-magic. Her mental powers might have similar limitations; that was why it was important not to abuse them.

He did not want to arrive in Ne-Issan - where they would be in mortal danger every step of the way - only to discover that her 'batteries'

had gone flat.

As a couple, rattling around the landscape on their own, they were too exposed. To a hand of warriors from a rival clan who were out to put some blood on their knives they looked like an easy kill - exactly the kind of trouble Cadillac was anxious to avoid.

There was only one answer - they had to seek the protection of another clan. The extended truce decided upon by the Great River Council, which had already enabled the M'Calls to gain the support of a She-Kargo and M'Waukee clan in setting up the surprise attack on The Lady, made such an arrangement entirely feasible.

Cadillac ran through a mental list of the She-Kargo clans who laid claim to the territory north and east of the Laramie Mountains and decided upon the Clan M'Kenzi.

While not as numerous as the M'Calls had been before their first encounter with The Lady, the M'Kenzi were a large clan and their delegation had supported Mr Snow's efforts to weld the She-Kargo and M'Waukee into a coherent fighting force: a gesture of solidarity which had proved costly on the day. The M'Kenzi delegation were still scrambling for safety when the edge of the tidal wave had barrelled along the face of the bluffs, sweeping away many of those who had survived the b.l.o.o.d.y retreat along the sandbars.

Magnum-Force, the M'Kenzi's wordsmith was one of the lucky ones. And also one of a rare breed; a female wordsmith.

Cadillac knew there had been others in the past, but Magnum was the only living example. He also knew that, as of last year, she had not found a similarly-gifted child to train as her replacement. If approached in the right fas.h.i.+on, she might view him as a possible heir, and that would be sufficient to overcome any objections the other clan elders might have.

Wordsmiths enjoyed a special status both inside and outside their clan.

They were regarded as being above the fray in which ordinary Mute warriors were embroiled.

As a result, their lives were rarely threatened by rival clansmen - not even by those disrespecters of tradition, the D'Troit. They did not have to 'chew bone' - to kill, or be blooded in battle - they were regarded as having 'standing' from simply being a wordsmith. This, of course, had not been enough for Cadillac. Raised in Mr Snow's shadow, he was so hungry for recognition, he had sought every opportunity to prove his worth as a warrior and had finally succeeded due to the timely intervention of Clearwater - a fact he had conveniently overlooked.

The first priority, however, was the horses. On his return to the M'Call settlement in the spring, in the company of Brickman, Malone and his band of renegades, Cadillac had brought a number of Iron Master horses. Malone's men had appropriated most of them, but they had been recovered following the midnight ma.s.sacre in which Malone and every single one of his men had been killed. Some had been used by Brickman's group in the attack on The Lady, but six or seven had been left in the care of the den-mothers and She-Wolves who had stayed to guard the settlement.

Searching the immediate surroundings of the burnt-out settlement in the first few days after his return, Cadillac discovered two bullet-ridden carca.s.ses that were already being pulled apart by a jostling crowd of death-birds.

A week later, on lower ground some two miles northeast of the settlement, he and Roz came across the body of another horse. From the relatively intact state of the carca.s.s, it had died from wounds some days after the first pair. That left at least three unaccounted for.

Despite the miles he had travelled on their backs, Cadillac's knowledge of horses was, still rudimentary, but he knew about herd animals. He reckoned the third, wounded horse had fled at the first fusillade, following its more-fortunate companions. They had moved on when he finally succ.u.mbed, but given the point where his body lay they had not travelled very far in that seven-day period. This seemed to indicate they had resumed their normal grazing pattern once the initial panic had died down.

Cadillac surmised that horses, in their natural state, behaved like buffalo, who only ran when alerted to danger by the scout bulls on the fringes of the herd. If the horses had enjoyed a relatively peaceful life sinceand with bears, jackals and mountain lions in abundance that was certainly not guaranteed - they might still be within reach.

There was only one way to find out, and that fitted in with another requirement; the need for Roz to learn how to run. If she was a full-blooded Mute, the ability to lope effortlessly mile after mile for hours on end would be lying dormant within her, but it could not be awakened at the snap of a finger. After his broken leg had mended, Brickman had trained himself back to peak fitness, but it had taken him time to reach the combination of speed and endurance required to keep up with a M'Call hunting posse.

Roz, like most Trackers, had followed a daily exercise regime since early childhood, but swimming came higher on the list than running.

During her first five-mile jog with Cadillac along mountain trails she thought she would die, but at the end of three weeks she was still on her feet after ten, but distinctly wobbly when Cadillac stretched it to fifteen. Five weeks into her overground existence she was able to overcome that pain-barrier and start pus.h.i.+ng herself towards the target distance of twenty-five miles.

It took a lot of perseverance on both their parts, and the fact they were still speaking at the end of it testified to the closeness of their relations.h.i.+p. That perseverance finally paid off: the daily runs took them further and further afield, and finally, as they crested a rise, they saw below them a loose cl.u.s.ter of larches grouped around a stream sparkling with sunlight as it rippled over a pebble bed.

Drinking from the stream were two horses, one a dappled grey, the other a golden brown with a flowing oatmeal-coloured mane and tail - one of several mounts Cadillac had ridden during the long journey from Lake Michigan to Wyoming.

Cadillac led the way down the slope towards the stream, moving with the same stealth the Mutes employed when hunting game. As they entered the stand of trees, the two horses turned their heads towards them several times to a.s.sess the danger then continued to eat their way across the carpet of sweet fat gra.s.s, flicking their tails to express their annoyance at being interrupted.

Squatting down by the edge of the stream, Cadillac fished out the two bridles he'd been carrying around in a sling pouch for the last few days. 'Let's have a couple of those yellow-fists."

Roz produced two yellow-skinned apples from her bag.

Cadillac sliced them in half, releasing a sharp tangy smell from the firm white flesh inside that made Roz's jaws tingle.

The dappled grey mare p.r.i.c.ked up her ears.

Cadillac laid two pieces into the palm of Roz's hand.

'I'm hoping the roan will recognise my voice, but if he doesn't, you know what to do."

'Wait a minute. I know what you told me, but -' Roz looked down at the apple halves. 'You don't seriously expect me to put these in their mouths, do you? With teeth like they've got?!" 'Relax! It's not dangerous. Look- keep your palm flat, with your fingers turned down, and offer it up at an angle - like that." Cadillac arranged her left hand in the correct position. 'The flesh on the mouth is quite loose, and the front lips are soft and sort of leathery."

'Err-ugghhh!" The thought made Roz s.h.i.+ver.

'Don't be stupid. They can't eat you, they're not carnivores. And they're not going to s...o...b..r all over you. Their mouths should be quite dry. Just keep your thumb tucked well in."

'Why?"

'So as not to get it bitten off."

'That's it. That does it. You do it, I'll watch."

Cadillac rose and stepped back out of reach as she tried to give back the sliced apple. 'I was only joking, Roz.

How can you possibly be scared? I'm sure you can do anything if you put your mind to it."

'Ho, ho, very funny." She s.n.a.t.c.hed the bridle from his outstretched hand. 'It doesn't work with animals. I know, because I've tried."

'You didn't tell me."

'Why should I? You'd have only made fun of me - like you're doing now."

'Clearwater didn't have any problems. She even knew how to talk to them. Right from the word go. They were drawn to her like bees to honey."

'Yes, well, I'm not her, and she's not here, so there's no point in talking about it, is there?"

'You're right." Cadillac turned away.