Warlord of Kor by Terry Carr (best management books of all time TXT) 📕

The radio cut in again. It was Manning. “What’s this about a city, Lee? Is that where they are?”

“The City of the Temple,” Rynason said. “It’s down among overhanging rocks—no wonder we hadn’t seen it before. Doesn’t seem to have been used for centuries or more. But that’s where the Temple of Kor is—and the Hirlaji are all in the Temple.”

Static hissed at him for a moment. “How did they bring her down?” someone asked. It sounded like Stoworth.

“Probably the disintegrators,” Rynason said. “The Hirlaji don’t have many of them, but they’ve got enough power to give us a lot of trouble.”

“And they’re using them, eh?” Manning said. “What do you think of your horses now, Lee?”

Rynason didn’t answer.

In a few minutes they were over the range. Rynason had to scout for awhile before he found the pass he had seen on Mara’s screen, but once he saw it below him he followed it out to the other side. The city was there, lying darkly amid the shadows of the mountains. Rynason banked off and set down half a mile away.

He waited for the others to land before he left the flyer. He took a pair of binocs from the supply kit and trained them on the city across the Flat, but he couldn’t find Mara’s fallen flyer.

When they were all down he clambered out of the compartment and alighted heavily in the dust. Manning strode quickly to him, wearing twin stunners. He took one from its holster and fingered it thoughtfully as he spoke.

“The main party was back in the pass. They should be here inside half an hour. We’ll storm the temple immediately—we’ve got them outnumbered.”

Rynason made a dubious sound deep in his throat, looking out at the city. He was remembering that he had seen it before from this Flat … and had stormed it before. The defensive walls were high.

“They can fire down on us from the walls,” he said in a low voice. “There’s no cover out there—they’d wipe half of us out before we could get in.”

“We can come around from the pass,” Manning said. “There’s plenty of cover from that direction.”

“And more fortification, too!” Rynason snapped. “Just remember, Manning, that city was built as a fortress. We’d have to come from the Flat.”

Manning paused, frowning. “We’ve got to take them anyway,” he said slowly. “Damn it, we can’t just stand here and wait for them to come out at us. What are they doing, anyway?”

Rynason regarded the older man for several moments, almost amused. “Right now,” he said, “they’re probably having a conference—with the Outsiders. That’s where the machine is, remember.”

“Then the sooner we attack, the better,” Manning said. “Marc, get the main party on the hand-radio—tell them to get here as fast as they can.” He turned for a moment to look out across the Flat at the city. “And you can promise them some action,” he said.

Stoworth dropped the radio from his shoulder and threw back the cover. He switched on the power, and static sounded in the dry air. He lifted the mike … and a voice cut through the static.

“Is anyone picking this up? Is anyone there?”

It was Mara’s voice.

Rynason knelt beside the set and took the mike from Stoworth’s hand. “This is Lee. Are you hurt?”

“Lee?”

“I hear you. Are you hurt?”

“Not badly. Lee, what are you doing? I saw the flyers land.”

“Manning wants to attack the city as soon as the land party gets here. What’s going on there?”

“I’m … in the temple. I’ve been trying to communicate with them. I’ve got an interpreter, but they don’t listen to what I say. Lee, this is incredible here! They’ve brought out a lot of weapons … some of them don’t work. The hall is half-filled with dust and sand, and they move so clumsily! They’re trying to hurry, because they saw you too, but it’s like … like they’ve forgotten how. They think they can get rid of us all, but they…. It’s pitiful—they’re so slow.”

“Those disintegrators aren’t slow,” Rynason said. Manning was standing beside him; he dropped a hand on his shoulder, but Rynason shook it off. “Are they using the machine … the altar?”

“They were using it when they brought me in. I think it is the Outsiders. But they don’t seem to know it’s just a machine—they kneel in front of it, and chant. It’s so strange, in that language of theirs … those thin, high voices, and the echoes….”

“They’re holding you prisoner?”

“Yes. I think they want to hold you off till they can get ready for their own attack.”

“For their what?” Rynason stood up, and looked toward the city; he could see no movement there.

“I know … it’s incredible. Lee, they don’t know what they’re doing. Horng said on the interpreter that they were going to drive us off the planet, and then rebuild their cities, and re-arm. It’s something to do with Kor, or the Outsiders. The orders have changed. They think that if they can drive us away for awhile they can build themselves up to where they can repel any further touchdowns here.”

“This order came from the machine?”

“Yes. There was a mistake, and Horng realized it after you linked with him this morning. The Outsiders, or Kor or whatever it is, had overestimated us.”

“Maybe then, but not now. They’re committing suicide!” Rynason said.

“I know, and I tried to tell them that. But the machine says differently. Lee, do you think that’s really the Outsiders?”

“If it is,” he said slowly, “they wouldn’t send the Hirlaji against us without some help.” He thought a minute, while the wind of the Flat blew sand against his leg and static came from the radio. “They could be making another mistake!” Mara said. “I’m sure what they told the Outsiders wasn’t true—they think they’re as strong as they were before. But their eyes … their eyes are afraid. I know it.”

“Do they know what you’re saying to me?”

“No. Lee, I’m not even sure they know what a radio is. Maybe they think I carry my portable altar with me.” Her voice had taken on a frantic note. “It’s a … a simple case of freedom of religion, Lee! Freedom of religion!”

“Mara! Calm down! Calm down!” He waited for a few seconds, until her voice came again, more quietly:

“I’m sorry … it’s just that they’re so….”

“Forget it. Sit tight there. I think I know how to slip in—alone.” He switched off.

He stood up and shrugged his shoulders heavily, loosening his tensed muscles. Then he turned purposefully to Manning.

“The rest of the party won’t be here for awhile yet, so you can’t possibly go in now. I’m going to try to get Mara out before any fighting starts.”

“What if they capture you too?” Manning said. “I can’t hold off an attack too long—you could be right about the Outsiders helping them. The sooner we finish them off, the better.”

Rynason looked coldly at him. “You heard what Mara said. We won’t have any trouble taking them. You can’t attack them while she’s in there, though. Or can you?”

“Lee. I’ve told you—I can’t take chances. If the Outsiders are in this, it’s a dangerous business. You can go in if you want, but we’re not waiting more than half an hour for you to get out.”

Rynason met his gaze steadily for a moment, then nodded brusquely. “All right.” He turned and moved into the over-hanging shadows of the mountains, toward the ancient, alien city.

He stayed in the shadows as he approached the walls of the fortress, darting quickly across exposed ground. The Hirlaji were large and powerful, physical battle with them was of course out of the question. But he had some things on his side: he was small, and therefore less likely to be seen; he was faster than the quiet, aged aliens. And he knew the city, the fortress and the temple, almost as well as they did.

Perhaps better, in fact, for his purposes. For while he had shared Tebron’s mind he had been … not only Tebron, but also Rynason, Earthman. A corner of his mind had been alert and aware … hearing the distant screams of Horng, wondering about the design of the Altar of Kor. And he had seen other things when he looked through Tebron’s eyes: when the ancient warlord had stormed the city-fortress, there had been an observer in him who had said: An Earthman could go in this way, unobserved. A smaller attacker could slip through here, could conceal himself where no Hirlaji could reach.

He arrived, at last, at the base of the wall where the blunt rocks of the mountains tumbled to a dead-end against flat, weathered stone. So far he must not have been seen; there had been no disintegrator beams fired at him, no leathery Hirlaji heads watching from the walls. He flattened against the stone and raised his eyes to the barriers.

The wall here had been built higher than the portions which faced the Flat, and it was stronger. No one had tried to storm the city from this position, because it was too well protected. But the walls had been built against the heavy, clumsy bodies of the grey aliens; with luck, a man could scale this wall. The footholds in the weathered stones would be precarious, but perhaps it could be done. And the Hirlaji, who regarded this wall as impregnable, would not be guarding it.

Sighting upward from flat against the wall, he chose his path quickly, and began to climb. The stone was smooth but grainy; he dug his fingers into narrow niches and pulled himself slowly upward, bracing himself with footholds whenever he could. It was laborious, painful work; twice he lost handholds and hung precariously until his straining fingers again found some indentation. Sweat covered him; the wind from the Flat whipped around the wall and touched the moisture on his back coldly. But his face was set in a frozen grimness and though his breath came in gasps he made no other sound.

When he had neared the top he suddenly seemed to reach a dead-end; the stones were smooth above him. His arms ached, his shoulders seemed deadened; he clung numbly to the wall and searched for another path. When he found it, he had to descend ten feet and move to the right before he could re-ascend; as he retraced his route down the wall he noticed blood where his torn fingers had left their mark. But he could not feel the pain in his fingers.

At last, when the wall had come to seem a separate world of existence which was all that he would ever know, a vertical