Breed to Come (5 page)

The dark was thick; even his night sight could notserve him. But he could look up the shaft and see thelighter grayish haze of what lay beyond the door he had forced.

Furtig tested the air for Ratton stench but wasonly a fraction relieved at its absence. There were other smells here, but none he could identify.

After a moment he straightened from the instinctive crouch into which he had gone and began to feelhis way around the area. Three sides, the scrape of hisclaws told him, were walls.

His whiskers, abristle on his upper lip, fanned outabove his eyes, gave him an additional report on spaceas they were intended to. The fourth wall was anopening like the mouth of a tunnel. But Furtig, remembering his error at the door above, made no quickeffort to try it.

When he did advance, it was on all fours, testingeach step with a wide swing of hand ahead, listeningfor the sound of the metal claw tips to reassure himabout the footing.

So he crept on. The tunnel, or hall, appeared to runstraight ahead, and was the width of the shaft.

So farhe had located no breaks in its walls, at least at thelevel of his going. Now he began, every five paces, torise and probe to the extent of his full reach for anyopenings that might be above.

However, he could find none, and his blind progresscontinued. He began to wonder if he were as welltrapped by his own recklessness as the Rattons couldhave trapped him by malicious purpose. Could hesomehow climb up the shaft if he found this a dead-end way?

Then his outthrust hand bumped painfully againsta solid surface. At the same time there was a lightening of the complete dark to his right, and a sharplyangled turn in the hall led him toward it.

Furtig's head came up; he drew a deep breath, testing that faint scent. Ratton—yes—but with it a morefamiliar, better smell, which could only come from oneof his own people! But the People and the Rattons—he could not believe any such combination could be apeaceful one. Could Gammage have carried his madness so far as to deal with Rattans!

The Ratton smell brought an almost noiselessgrowl deep in his throat. But the smell of his own kindgrew stronger, and he was drawn to it almost in spiteof himself.

Furtig discovered the source of the light now, a slitset high in the wall, but not so high that he could notleap and hook claws there, managing to draw himselfup, despite the strain on his forearms, to look through.

All that short glimpse afforded him was the sight ofanother wall. He must somehow find the means of remaining longer at the slit. Whatever was there mustlie beyond eye level, and the odor of the People wasstrong.

Furtig had his belt. Slowly he pulled the bone pinwhich held it about him, unhooked the pouches ofsupplies, and laid the belt full length on the floor. Heshed the claws and clumsily, using his teeth as well ashis stubby fingers, made each end of the belt fast tothe claws, testing that fastening with sharp jerks.

Then he looped the belt around him, slipped theclaws on lightly, and leaped once more for the slit.The claws caught. He jerked his hands free, and thebelt supported him, his powerful hind legs pressed against the wall to steady him.

He could look down into the chamber. His people—yes—two of them. But the same glimpse which identified them showed Furtig they were prisoners. One wasstretched in tight bonds, hands and feet tied. Theother had only his hands so fastened; one leg showedan ugly wound, blood-matted black in the fur.

Furtig strained to hold his position, eager to see.The bound one—he was unlike any of the People Furtig knew. His color was a tawny sand shade on hisbody; the rest of him, head, legs, tail, was a deepbrown. His face thinned to a sharply pointed chin andhis eyes were bright blue.

His fellow prisoner, in contrast to the striking colorcombination of the blue-eyed one, was plain gray,bearing the black stripes of the most common hueamong the People. But—Furtig suppressed a smallcry.

Foskatt! He was as certain as he was of his ownname and person that the wounded one was Foskatt,who had gone seeking Gammage and never returned.

And if they were prisoners in a place where therewas so strong a stench of Ratton, he could well guesswho their captors were. If he had seen only thestranger he would not have cared. One had a duty tothe caves and then to the tribe, but a stranger musttake his own chances. Though Furtig hesitated over that reasoning—he did not like to think of any of thePeople, stranger or no, in the hands of the Rattons.

But Foskatt had to be considered. Furtig knewonly too well the eventual fate of any Ratton captive.He would provide food for as many of his captors ascould snatch a mouthful.

Furtig could hold his position no longer. But hetook the chance of uttering the low alerting hiss of thecaves. Twice he voiced that, clinging to the claw-beltsupport.

When he hissed the second time, Foskatt's headturned slowly, as if that effort was almost too much.Then his yellow eyes opened to their widest extent,centered on the slit where Furtig fought to keep hisgrip. For the first time Furtig realized that the otherprobably could not see him through the opening. So he called softly: "Foskatt—this is Furtig."

He could no longer hold on but slid back into thetunnel, his body aching with the effort which had kept him at that peephole. He took deep breaths, fighting to slow the beating of his heart, while he rubbed'his arms, his legs.

His tail twitched with relief as a very faint hisscame in answer. That heartened him to another effortto reach the slit. He knew he could not remain therelong, and perhaps not reach it at all a third time.

IfFoskatt were only strong enough to—to what? Furtigsaw no way of getting his tribesman through that hole. But perhaps the other could supply knowledgewhich would lead Furtig to a better exit.

"Foskatt!" It was hard not to gasp with effort."How may I free you?"

"The caller of Gammage—" Foskatt's voice wasweak. He lay without raising his head. "The guard has-taken-it. They-wait-for-their-Elders—"

Furtig slipped down, knew he could not reach theslit again. He leaned against the wall to consider whathe had heard. The caller of Gammage—and the Ratton guard had it—whatever a caller might be. Theguard could only be outside the door of that cell.

He picked up his belt, unfastening the claws.Now—if he could find a way out of this tunnel to thatdoor. It remained so slim a chance that he dared notpin any hopes on it.

He stalked farther along the dark way. Again a thinlacing of light led him to a grill. But this one was setat an easier height, so he need not climb to it. Helooked through into a much larger chamber, whichwas lighted by several glowing rods set in the ceiling.

To his right was a door, and before it Rattons! Thefirst live ones he had ever seen so close.

They were little more than half his size if one didnot reckon in the length of their repulsive tails.

Oneof them had, indeed, a tail which was only a scarredstump. He also had a great scar across his face whichhad permanently closed one eye. He leaned againstthe door gnawing at something he held in one paw hand.

His fellow was more intent on an object he held,a band of shining metal on which was a cube of glittering stuff. He shook the band, held the cube to one ear.Even across the space between them Furtig caughtthe faint buzzing sound which issued from that cube.And he guessed that-this must be Gammage's caller—though how it might help to free Foskatt he had noidea. Except he knew that the Ancestor had masteredso much of Demon knowledge in the past that this device might just be as forceful in some strange way asthe claws were in ripping out a Ratton throat.

Furtig crowded against the grill, striving to see howit was held in place, running his fingers across it withcare so as not to ring his weapon tips against it. Hecould not work it too openly with Rattons on guard tohear—or scent—him.

The grill was covered with a coarse mesh. He twisted at it now with the claw tips, and it bent when heapplied pressure. So far this was promising. Now Furtig made the small chirruping sound with which ahunter summons a mouse, waiting tensely and withhope.

Three times he chirruped. There was a shadow rising at the screen. Furtig struck. Claws broke throughthe mesh, caught deep in flesh and bone. There was amuffled squeak. With his other hand Furtig torefuriously at the remaining mesh, cleared an opening, and wriggled through, hurling the dead Ratton fromhim.

On the floor lay the caller. The scarred guard hadfled. Furtig could hear his wild squealing, doubtlesssounding the alarm. It had been a tight fit, that pushthrough the torn mesh, and his skin had smartingscratches. But he had made it, and now he caught upthe caller.

He almost dropped it again, for the band felt warm,not cold as metal should. And the buzzing was louder.How long did he have before that fleeing guard returned with reinforcements?

Furtig, the caller against his chest, kicked aside thebars sealing the door and rushed in. He reached Foskatt, hooked a claw in the other's bonds to cut them.But seeing the extent of his tribesman's wounds, hefeared the future. It was plain that with that injuryFoskatt could not walk far.

"The caller—give it to me—" Foskatt stared at thething Furtig held. But when he tried to lift a hand itmoved like a half-dead thing, not answering his will,and he gave an impatient cry.

"Touch it," he ordered. "There is a small hole onthe side, put your finger into that!"

"We must get away—there is no time," Furtig protested. "Touch it!" Foskatt said louder. "It will get us outof here."

"The warrior is mad," growled the other prisoner."He talks of a thing coming through the walls to savehim. You waste your time with him!"

"Touch it!"

Foskatt made no sense, yet Furtig found himselfturning the caller over to find the hole. It was there,but when he tried to insert a finger, he discoveredthat his digit was far too thick to enter. He was aboutto try the tip of a claw when Foskatt batted clumsilyat his arm, those deep ridges in his flesh, cut by thebonds, bleeding now.

"No—don't use metal! Hold it closer—hold it forme!"

Furtig went to his knees as Foskatt struggled up.Foskatt bent forward, opened his mouth, and putforth his tongue, aiming its tip for the hole in thecube.

Foskatt's head jerked as if that touch was painful,but he persisted, holding his tongue with an effortwhich was manifest throughout his body. At last, itseemed, he could continue no longer. His head fellback, and he rested his limp weight against Furtig'sshoulder, his eyes closed.

"You have wasted time," snarled the other prisoner. "Do you leave us now to be meat, or do you give•me a fighting chance?" There was no note of pleadingin his voice. Furtig had not expected any; it was notin their breed to beg from a stranger. But he settledFoskatt back, the caller beside him, and went to cutthe other's bonds.

When those were broken, he returned to Foskatt.The stranger had been right. There was no chance ofescape through these burrows, which the Rattonsknew much better than he. He had wasted time. YetFoskatt's urgency had acted on him strongly.

The stranger whipped to the door. Even as hereached it, Furtig could hear the squealing clamor ofgathering Rattons. He had failed. The only result ofhis attempt at rescue was that he had joined the othertwo in captivity. But he had his claws at least, andthe Ratton forces would pay dearly for their food when they came at him.

"Fool," hissed the stranger, showing his fangs.

"There is no way out now!"

Foskatt stirred. "The nimbler will come—"His mutter, low as it was, reached the stranger, andhis snarl became a growl, aimed at them both.

"Rumbler! He has blatted of none else! But hiswits are wrong. There is no—"

What he would have added was forgotten as hesuddenly whirled and crouched before the door, hisbare hands raised. However, for some reason, the Rattons did not rush the prisoners at once, as Furtig hadexpected. Perhaps they were trying to work out somemethod whereby they could subdue their captiveswithout undue loss on their part. If they knew thePeople at all, they must also realize that the Rattonson the first wave in would die.

Furtig listened, trying to gauge from sounds whatthey were doing. He did not know what weapons theRattons had besides those nature had given them.But since they frequented the lairs, they might havebeen as lucky as Gammage in discovering Demon secrets. Foskatt pushed at the floor, tried to raise himself. Furtig went to his aid.

"Be ready," his tribesman said. "The nimbler—when it comes—we must be ready—"

His certainty that something was coming almostconvinced Furtig that the other knew what he was 54talking about. But how that action of tongue to cubecould bring anything—

The stranger was busy at the door. He had pulledsome litter together, was striving to force into placerusty metal rods as a bar lock. Even if that worked, itcould not save them for long, but any action helped.Furtig went to aid him.

"This should slow them—a little—" the strangersaid as they finished as well as they could.

He turned then and padded across the room tostand beneath the wall grill high overhead. "Where does that lead? You were behind it when you signaled—"

"There is a tunnel there. But the opening is toonarrow."

The stranger had kept one of the pieces of metal,too short to be a part of their barrier. Now he struckthat against the wall in a rasping blow. It did notleave more than a streak of rust to mark its passage.There was no beating their way through that wall.

He strode back and forth across the cell, his taillashing, uttering small growls, which now and thenapproached the fury of battle yowls. Furtig knew thesame fear of being trapped. He flexed his fingers, tested the strength of his claw fastenings. In his throatrumbled an answering growl. Then the stranger cameto a halt before him, those blue eyes upon Furtig'sweapons.

"Be ready to cut the net with those." His wordshad the force of an order.

"The net?"

"They toss nets to entangle one from a distance.That was how they brought me down. They must have taken your comrade in the same fashion. He wasalready here when they dragged me in. It is only because they were awaiting their Elders that they didnot kill us at once. They spoke among themselves much, but who can understand their vile cluttering?One or two made signs—there was something they wished to learn. And their suggestion"—the hair onhis tail was bushed now—"was that they would havea painful way of asking. Die in battle when theycome, warrior, or face what is worse."