"Drop," he ordered. "Get down fast and wait. We'll join you."

"Earl?"

"Down and fast!" If the unit were to suddenly fail, the man would drop like a stone. Dumarest hit the switch and felt the sluggish response. Advancing to the others he wheeled, slashed a hand across his throat and pointed downwards.

Adara was little help.

"I don't know how long the units are supposed to last, Earl," he admitted. "I've never even thought about it. I just assumed they were inexhaustible. Is there anything you can do?"

Dumarest examined the mechanism. The unit was sealed, three small holes set into the inner surface; a recharging point, perhaps. He could discover no way by which to gain access to the power pack inside.

"Arbush is heavy," he said. "He's got more weight than any of us, so would have used up more power. We'll have to equalize. Eloise, switch units."

"Earl?"

"You're the lightest Do it." He frowned as, reluctantly, she made the exchange. "We must dump some weight. The wine can go. Most of the fuel. Nearly all of the food. The gilyre-"

"No, Earl!" Arbush was defiant. "Not that. I'd starve first."

"How about the guns?" said Eloise. "Do we need all of them?"

"Dump yours," said Dumarest. "And you too, Adara."

"No, I'd rather not." He stood, face bleak but determined. "Logically, Arbush should get rid of his. It will compensate for the gilyre."

And he needed to retain his own, as a symbol of his pride; the outward sign of his equality with Dumarest.

"Let him keep it, Earl," said Eloise, understanding. "How about clothes? Have we come far enough south to shed a few?"

"No." The wind could change again, and without food they would need the protection of the furs. And they hadn't traveled as far as she thought. "Later, maybe, but not yet. Now let's get moving. Keep close and don't ride too high."

"Does it matter?" Arbush shrugged. "A fall from a hundred feet or a thousand, what is the difference?"

"There must be a safety factor. A reserve of lift, once the power dies. If we're too high we could land, yes, but we would be stuck where we hit. Traveling low, well have a chance to squeeze a little more from the units, couple them up, maybe." Dumarest adjusted his harness. "Let's get going."

Up into the air again, keeping close, conscious now of the factor of time and distance covered as never before; passing over the flat terrain, the broken ground, rising a little to escape the turbulent air gusting up from ravaged peaks.

A journey without a break; dead weight took power to lift, power which could carry them on their way. Eloise lagged behind a little and Dumarest slowed to maintain the grouping. Arbush forged ahead beating his hands, the gilyre strung from his belt A gust of wind caught him from one side and he turned, tumbling like a leaf before regaining his equilibrium. Adara fell back and Dumarest turned towards him; seeing the pale face, the burning eyes, the gun held in the gloved hands.

Seeing also the glinting shapes which fell from the sky.

Chapter Fifteen

They came like arrows shaped like armored men; three of them, diving from where they had ridden high in the air, almost invisible against the sky. Monitors fitted with units more powerful than their own, armed with weapons more destructive. Flame and smoke rose from the ice, leaving wide craters gaping in the roar of explosions.

"Arbush! Eloise! Down! Find a crevasse and hide!"

Unarmed, they were useless. Dumarest twisted, throwing his body back, face turned upwards; the weapon in his hands firing, aimed by instinct. The foremost Monitor burst in a rain of metallic fragments.

"Adara! Quick! Damn you, man! Open fire!"

He was too slow, forgetting to cock the weapon, fumbling as he jerked at the protrusion. Dumarest snarled, firing again; hitting the switch on his harness to fall as death tore the air where he had been. He rose, the unit sluggish as the Monitors swept past and down, to rise again in a sharp curve towards him. He saw their glowing lenses, the guns aimed and steady, the orifices which would spout missiles to take his life. One he could hit, never both; and one wasn't enough.

"Earl!"

Adara was rising, his face taut, the gun awkward in his hands.

"Turn, you fool!" He was facing the wrong way. "Turn!"

The Monitors were beyond him, a little above as they came in for the kill. Another second and they would open fire. Dumarest tensed, jerked to one side, lifted the gun and closed his finger. Flame blossomed as one of the things died, but the other had already fired.

Then Adara was before him, a living barrier against which the missiles burned; to explode, to rip apart flesh and bone, to shower the air with a fine spray of smoking blood.

Dumarest dropped, turned as the Monitor passed; he fired at the head, the missiles hitting the torso, the hips, shattered metal falling to join the tattered bundle which once had been a man.

"Thank god!" As he landed, Arbush came running from a crevasse in which he had only seen the blur of movement, the flash of explosions against the sky. "Earl, I thought it had got you. I saw-"

"Adara." Dumarest looked at the woman. "He saved my life at the cost of his own."

"I'm glad, Earl. Glad that it wasn't you."

"I wish it hadn't been anyone," said Arbush. "In a way, I liked the man. Felt a little sorry for him, I suppose. Well, he's dead now, and at peace." He rubbed thoughtfully at his cheek. "At least we're out of danger."

"For the moment." Dumarest searched the sky, tensed as he saw three more flecks in the distance. "Take those units off. Hurry!"

Eloise frowned. "Why, Earl? We shall need them."

"Do as I say." Tearing at the harness, Dumarest stepped from the tangle of straps. "Those Monitors followed us and more are coming. How do you think they found us?"

"A beacon?" The minstrel was shrewd. "Inside the units, Earl?"

"I think so. What else are we carrying which could contain it. They're homing in on a broadcasting unit. Now get rid of them and hurry!"

A deep crevasse swallowed the machines, Dumarest leading the way from the spot; ducking, keeping under cover, out of sight of the Monitors who had grown in the sky. An overhang gave on to a blind grotto, a dead-end facing the crevasse in which they had dumped the units. Rocks lay before it, the gray stone slimed with ice; he crouched behind them, the others lying flat to the rear.

Arbush whispered, "We dumped the food, Earl. If we lose the units-" He broke off, remembering the past; the bleak and savage time before they had reached the city.

"We'll be alive," said Dumarest.

"True, if they're satisfied with finding the units. But if they should look for us, what then?"

"We pray." Eloise's voice held an ironic amusement. It changed as vibrations tore the air, the shock of explosions shaking the stone on which they lay. "Earl!"

"Be quiet!"

"But, Earl-"

"Damn you, woman? Be silent!"

The units, he knew, had been destroyed, their signaling devices stilled; but unless the Monitors were fools an examination would be made. They would have expected to see the fugitives, could still expect to find them, and they must know that they couldn't be far.

They would be drifting above at this moment, flying slow and low, sensors alerted for sonic vibrations; the unmistakable signs of infra-red radiation which would betray the presence of living tissue.

Something scraped at the end of the tunnel leading to the grotto. A fragment of ice fell, a small stone. Slowly Dumarest reached beside him for the gun, lifted it, steadied it on his arm.

The weapon could, in itself, have betrayed them; but it was the only defense against the things they had. And he couldn't be sure how effective it would be; how many missiles it contained. Only one, perhaps, in which case they were dead. But if it held only three, they had a chance.