The Crystal Demon: 17/?
by Nancy Smith and Linda Garrick
XVII
They made good time at first. Jeel led the way, moving with a swift, light step that covered ground with amazing speed. Alan hurried along behind, painfully aware that the Shirva was slowing his steps to accommodate his less skillful companion. Grimly, Alan concentrated his efforts on maintaining Jeel's pace.
They had traveled steadily for perhaps six hours when he noticed that Jeel was slowing down. The rain had completely stopped and the sun shone down benignly. Alan, himself very tired, paused to remove dried meat strips from his pack. Jeel did likewise.
It was then that they heard the crunch of crawler treads, loud on the forest floor. Jeel froze at the sound, and grasped Alan's wrist, guiding him back into the shrubbery. There they crouched, hidden from view as the patrolmen passed. Alan counted eight in all.
He hoped fervently that his friends were all right. This was going to be a nerve-wracking march; that was for sure. Alan glanced around at the trees on all sides. The vegetation was gradually becoming thicker again.
Jeel's eyes were large and frightened. "Issa gone?" he whispered in Basic.
"Yes." Alan stood up. "We'll have to be careful. If those were here, there'll be others."
Jeel nodded seriously. "Your shields," he said haltingly. "They's down?"
"I'm scanning occasionally," Alan told him, "but I don't dare keep them down all the time. If the Jils bring in another tracer, he could sense me."
Jeel made a face. "The Jils, they are good psychics?"
"Most of them, yes."
"Better'n you, maybe?" Jeel glanced sideways at him as they began to move on again. "Miki, he says you are damn good."
Alan shrugged, feeling a little embarrassed. "I don't know. We're learning more about them all the time. They have their limitations. The best I've ever met is Duke Halthzor. He's the second-in-command in this part of space. He and I are more-or-less on a par. So far, I've never met another one as powerful as I am, but there are a lot of Jils I haven't met."
"What is 'on a par', please?"
"It means about equal to me."
"Oh. The Jils, they are all psychics?"
"Yes."
"But not all Terrans."
"No. Some of us, but we don't know what percentage. The trait's hereditary."
"Pi quin?"
"I mean psychics usually have psychic children."
"Oh." Jeel nodded wisely. "Is so with Shirva, too. Miki's family, they was all psychics. My sister was, too, but she is dead."
"Oh. I'm sorry."
"I am sorry, too." Jeel looked away. "Is wrong, what the Jils done to us."
"You have a father, Jeel?"
"A father?"
"A ropeet."
"Ah, yes. But he is also dead, many years ago. He was also Rassa -- psychic, I means."
Alan fell silent. Strange, he thought, that Jeel, like Mark, was linked with a psychic, and came from a family of psychics. It might raise interesting possibilities about Mark.
Jeel was moving much more slowly, now, and Alan had no trouble keeping up. The sun was beginning to sink below the horizon.
"You have brothers?" Jeel asked suddenly.
"No."
"Mark is not?"
"No. Mark's my closest friend. I have no family. My mother, father and little sister were killed six years ago."
"Oh. They were psychics?"
"I don't know. Probably. They were small, like me, and Terran psychics tend to be small."
Jeel surveyed him soberly. "You do not look small to me."
Alan smiled. "I'm small for a Terran. Most women are taller than me."
"Women?"
"Females, like Julia."
"Is so." Jeel grinned widely. "I think is very pretty, is Julia."
"Yes."
"The other female."
"Lyn?"
"Yes. She is also Rassa -- psychic, Miki says."
"Yes." Alan looked away.
"You and Mark and Julia are angry with her, yes?"
"Her father was in the Patrol."
Jeel's mouth opened. "A patrolman?"
"Yes."
"Then she is an enemy. We should kill her!"
"Not anymore. She's realized she was wrong. Besides, she's a psychic. If the Jils get her now, they'll kill her."
"Oh." Jeel relaxed, then stumbled suddenly, falling to his knees. Alan bent to help him up, but the Shirva apparently needed no assistance, scrambling unaided to his feet.
"Are you all right, Jeel?"
"Hell, yes." Jeel trod on.
They had walked for another hour and the sun was sinking behind the trees when Jeel fell again. He made no apparent effort to catch himself, but slid and rolled down a short, steep hill to land with a bruising thump against a slim, evergreen-like tree. Alan skidded down after him.
"Jeel!" He bent over the little figure. "Are you all right?"
Jeel pushed himself to his elbows, shaking his head as though dazed. Alan lifted him carefully upright. "Jeel?"
"Sure, okay, kid." Jeel sounded slightly woozy, but began walking again at once. His steps were noisier now, Alan noticed, and he staggered occasionally, catching at trees for support. The shrubbery had grown steadily thicker, and the light was beginning to fade. Alan glanced at Mark's chronometer, which Linley had loaned him for the journey, noting that they had covered perhaps fifteen kilometers.
Jeel faltered, then sank slowly forward to his knees. Alan bent over him. "Jeel, what's wrong?"
"I am okay." Jeel tried to get to his feet. Alan helped him and then steadied him as he staggered.
"You don't look okay. We'd better rest for a while. I'm tired, too, and it'll be dark soon." He glanced around and then led Jeel to a spot where three trees grew close together, creating a barrier to their backs. It wasn't much protection, but it looked like the best available. The Shirva curled up in the shelter provided by the huge, protruding roots, pulled his small cloak around him and was instantly asleep.
Alan settled down beside him. What, he wondered was the necessary property of the Lemke that made it so vitally necessary for these little people? Already Jeel was weakening. Undoubtedly it was a vitamin or mineral or something ...
The sky darkened, and the tall grasses whispered softly in the evening breeze. Alan sighed. He was tired, too. He had slept very little the night before, and then walked steadily all day.
Dreams began to form, shifting images, through which something moved -- a round, glowing white thing ...
Alan jerked awake, his heart pounding suffocatingly in his chest. Instantly, he was aware of danger. Jeel sat up, his mouth opening in surprise, and Alan grabbed him, clapping a hand over his lips.
The last of the light had faded from the sky and all was very still. Jeel's eyes met his in the darkness, and his expression calmed. He nodded slightly.
Alan released him. Some distance away, but coming closer, were voices and the crunch of heavy boots on leaves. Jeel's lips formed the word, "'Trols."
They waited tensely. The patrolmen passed, a dozen of them at least, their boots crushing the vegetation, and hands resting on the hilts of their blasters. They were speaking together in low, worried voices, and even from his hiding place, Alan could feel the apprehension radiating from them.
At last, the noise faded, and he peered cautiously in the direction they had gone. "They're headed away. Go on back to sleep."
"Okay." The Shirva lay down and was asleep again almost at once. Alan sat up for a while, watching the nightly meteor showers, then he also slept.
He awoke late. Both of Kasal's moons were evident, and the stars shone. Meteors traced their fiery paths through the sky, and he could see the rings, like a soft haze across the heavens.
Jeel was still sound asleep, his knees drawn up to his chin. Alan touched his shoulder gently. "Jeel?"
Dark eyes opened. Alan smiled at him. "Time to go."
"Okay." Jeel dug in his pack, removing dried meat and some hard, flat pieces of bread. "Here, Alan."
Alan accepted the offering. "You eat, too, Jeel. Here, try a nutrowafer."
Jeel regarded the food concentrate that Alan had taken from the patrolmen the morning before somewhat doubtfully. "You are sure it is okay?"
"For Terrans it is. Try it."
Jeel nibbled daintily for a moment, and then stuffed the rest of the cake into his mouth. "Hey, that is good! Is there more?"
"More? Maybe." Alan dug in the pack again. "Just two. We'd better save them. Eat some more of your meat."
Jeel did, making a face. "I'm awful damn tired of this," he stated, sounding incredibly like Mark. "The nutrowafer was awful good."
Alan grinned. "You can have one with breakfast. How do you feel now?"
"Better, thanks." Jeel finished his meat and returned Alan's grin. "Let's go."
They started on again. Jeel seemed as fresh as the day before, his footsteps silent and sure on the damp leaves. Once more, Alan had to struggle to keep up.
They didn't talk as much now that they were in an area where the Patrol seemed to be concentrating their efforts. Twice they hid from search parties that passed, tramping noisily. When they were certain they were free of the searchers, they moved as swiftly as they could, both aware that time was running out.
"You know, Jeel," Alan remarked once, "you seem to be learning our language very fast."
The Shirva scratched his shock of red hair. "It was easier when we was with Miki," he said. "Is not hard, though. I remember words very easy."
Alan frowned. "A photographic memory?"
"What is 'photographic', please?"
"Uh -- I mean, most people have more trouble remembering words. They have to be told more than once."
"Oh," Jeel said. "Not all Shirva can do this. Mostly it is rassa who remember from one telling. And sometimes people like me. A psychic who is not a psychic."
So the Shirva psychics, and people like Jeel, tended to have the best memories, Alan thought. That quality was familiar as well. Terran psychics universally had excellent memories, and many of them, like him, had photographic ones. Mark did as well. Such a thing couldn't be simply coincidence, he thought. Somehow it had to be tied in to the qualities that made a psychic, and made Mark somehow able to link to a psychic. He would have to ask the psychic researchers when they got back to Lavirra. *If* they got back to Lavirra. No, *when* he told himself. No defeatist thoughts.
Hours passed, and clouds gathered overhead, blotting out the stars. Jeel's steps began to slow, and gradually became noisier. The forest grew thicker, and Alan began to sniff hopefully, wishing devoutly that he would catch the telltale scent of the Lemke in the damp air.
There was nothing, however, except the ever-present scent of earth and growing things. All was quiet and very still, except for the soft buzz of insects. Alan lowered his mind shields, doing a quick scan of the immediate area. Nothing.
Jeel stumbled, fell and rolled easily to his feet again. Alan's heart sank, and he glanced quickly at Mark's chronometer. Since awakening, they had been walking for five hours. It would be dawn soon. Jeel was tiring more quickly than before.
The Shirva glanced at him, his face unreadable in the gloom.
"You okay?" Alan asked anxiously.
"Oh, sure," came the expected reply.
Time passed and the forest around them began to grow brighter. The sun was rising, and with it their danger increased. Jeel fell again, going heavily to his knees in the damp leaves. Alan picked him up. "Come on, Jeel, let's find a place to rest."
Jeel said nothing, but allowed Alan to lead him into dense underbrush. A rushing stream appeared through the greenery, its sides hollowed out by the water. Alan slid down a small embankment, holding Jeel against him, and they ducked beneath an overhanging ledge. The wind was picking up, and leaves whirled past. Overhead, the trees roared like the ocean.
Jeel was asleep almost before they stopped moving. Alan sat next to him, covered them both with the blanket he used for a cape and leaned back against the embankment, looking out at the cloudy, windy dawn. The stream rolling past a few feet away appeared clear and clean. Alan slid out from under the blanket and crawled forward to dip out water. Carefully, he checked it with his taster and then filled his canteen. Jeel didn't stir, and Alan filled his waterskin as well. He wished desperately that they would find some of the blasted Lemke soon. Jeel was obviously more dependent on the stuff than he had led them to believe.
Well, there was no use dwelling on it now. Alan sighed. They had, in all probability, another day of travel ahead of them, and even then there was no guarantee they would find the stuff. But sleep had seemed to help before, and Jeel would, no doubt, be as lively as ever in a few hours.
Alan dozed, but came wide-awake at a deafening clap of thunder. Rain was pouring down, but they were well sheltered by the deep overhang of the embankment. Jeel hadn't stirred and his face was waxy-pale in the cloudy daylight. Alan yawned and sat up.
Then he stiffened. Voices! Over the clamor of the storm, he heard them coming steadily closer. Jeel, who had not stirred when the thunder had sounded, now sat up with a shrill gasp. Alan grabbed for him, trying frantically to muffle any outcry, but as before there was no need. Jeel's eyes met his, and Alan read full awareness in them. Together, they crouched back against the embankment, listening.
The Patrol squad crossed the river not ten meters from the spot where Alan and Jeel crouched in hiding. Voices reached them faintly over the sound of the rain.
"Damn this weather! And damn those damned Undergrounders! And damn Halthzor, too!"
"Shut up, Rithers!" It was a deep, commanding voice, carrying the heavy accent of Shallock.
Someone else spoke. "This is ridiculous, sir. We aren't going to find her blundering around out here. Anyway, she's probably dead by now."
"Shut up!" the commander snapped again. "An' keep your voices down, dammit! You tryin' to attract attention? We're too close to native territory now for comfort!"
"Sorry, sir." The voice fell slightly, the words barely audible to Alan now. "I'll bet she threw that blasted globe away, anyhow. Why would she keep it?"
The voices dwindled into the distance.
Jeel was watching him. "What'd they say?"
"They're looking for Lyn."
Jeel nodded, shifting uncomfortably. Alan knew he was worried about Miki, and with good reason. The woods were crawling with patrolmen. And Halthzor -- the 'trols had mentioned the Viceroy's cousin. If Halthzor was here, searching for them ...
He shook off the thought and glanced at Jeel. "Go back to sleep for a little while. I'll wake you in an hour or so."
"Okay." The Shirva lay down obediently and was instantly asleep again. One sure advantage his species had over Terrans, Alan thought, they certainly didn't let their troubles keep them awake.
He let his companion sleep two hours more, then aroused him gently. The rain still fell, and the air was cold and damp.
Jeel still looked tired, he realized anxiously. Perhaps he should have let the little guy sleep longer. Jeel, however, seemed to sense his anxiety, for he smiled reassuringly. "Hey, it's okay, dammit! Gimmie another one o' those nutrowafers, please."
Alan did. "You really like them, don't you?"
"Yes." Jeel ate it greedily. "They make me feel strong, too -- almost like the tchi -- the Lemke -- only for not as long."
"No kidding?" Alan pulled out the remaining nutrowafer, examining the ingredients printed on the wrapper. The stuff was supposed to supply all the essential vitamins and minerals, and one third of the necessary calories for an adult Terran for one day. Dozens of vitamins, minerals, amino acids and other ingredients were listed. Was it possible they had somehow hit upon the ingredient the Shirva needed, present in the tasteless emergency rations supplied to every Terran in the Viceregal Patrol? "We'll keep the last one for you to eat later, all right?"
Jeel nodded. "Okay! And maybe we cans find some more." He finished the wafer and swigged from the stream. "Mm, I feel much better, kid. Lessgo."
"Okay, but let me know if you need a rest. I get awfully tired of picking you up, you know."
"An' I get awful damn tired o' fallin' down, y'know."
Alan laughed. "You're sounding more like Mark all the time. How about copying me a little more? You're making me look bad."
"Mark's easier."
"Huh? Why?"
"He don't take as long when he talks."
"Hm, I guess not. That's the way Shallockians talk. Mark comes from a planet called Shallock. Everyone there swears a lot, and has that accent."
"Swears? What's swears, dammit?"
"Uh ... never mind. It's sort of hard to explain, but you do it just fine. Let's get moving."
It was still raining. Beneath their feet, the ground was mushy and covered with damp, rotting leaves. They had traveled for perhaps an hour when Alan felt a flash of warning. He pulled Jeel back into the bushes, just as a patrolman materialized suddenly from the underbrush, a hand resting on his blaster. He looked directly into Alan's eyes and froze at the sight of the blaster centered on his midriff. He gulped.
Alan gestured with the weapon and the man backed away, his hands held high over his head. The blaster never wavering, Alan reached with telekinesis to remove the weapon from the patrolman's holster. It floated through the air to land softly at his feet, and he gestured again with his own blaster. The patrolman stopped, his back to a tree.
"Sit down," Alan whispered. "One move and you're dead."
The patrolman obeyed. His whole body jerked as Jeel appeared beside Alan, a small, barbed knife in his hand. The Shirva grinned savagely, fingering the weapon.
"Don't let him kill me!" the man squeaked.
"Hah!" Jeel hissed. "You're gonna die, 'trol!"
The man's jaw dropped. "He's speakin' Basic!"
"Shut up." Alan was busy, reading the patrolman's mind. The surface thoughts were mainly fright bordering on panic at being confronted by two such deadly enemies. Alan spoke quietly to him. "How many Jils are here?"
He saw the answer in the other man's mind before he answered. "Two."
"Who are they?"
"Lord Halthzor and Lord Linthvar. A Lord Palthvar is on the way."
"Where are they now -- Halthzor and Linthvar, I mean."
The man's gaze flicked to Jeel again. "Halthzor's out looking for you. Linthvar's waiting at the base. He's got a bad leg, you know."
"Uh huh. Is Halthzor close by?"
"Huh? Oh no, he wouldn't come this close to native territory. He knows what happens to us when we do." He stopped, watching Jeel, and Alan saw his Adam's apple bob. "Are you gonna kill me, Westover?"
"No way," Jeel snapped savagely. "That's for me!"
"No," Alan said. "The Underground never kills patrolmen who cooperate -- not unless it's necessary." He looked at the prisoner. "Remember that, Trippins, and tell your friends."
"I will." The man sagged back against the tree, limp with relief. Alan fired a stunbolt and he fell sideways.
Jeel was still fingering the weapon. "If we leave him here, they'll know we're around, Alan."
Alan gagged the man securely, then fastened his hands behind the tree with restrainers. "There. That will give us time to get away."
"We should kill him. This ain't safe."
"I know, but I'm an empath, Jeel. And I keep my promises." He searched the man's pouches for emergency rations, but found none. "Darn."
"I will do it," Jeel offered.
"Let's go." Alan took the Shirva's hand and led him away from the unconscious prisoner.
An hour later they paused and Jeel ate the last remaining nutrowafer. He looked pale and very tired, and certainly had not done as well today as he had the day before. For a while after that he seemed better, and they covered ground rapidly. Then, as darkness began to settle, once again his steps slowed and he began to stumble.
It was still raining, and no stars were visible. The darkness became complete within a very short time, and they walked carefully and slowly in the blackness. Alan lowered his shields and used clairvoyance to guide his feet. Jeel stumbled along beside him, cursing breathlessly.
"How much farther?" Alan's teeth were chattering.
Jeel didn't answer immediately. Then : "Is not much, dammit!"
They slogged on through the dreadful weather. Alan decided that he had never been so wet and miserable in his life. Jeel stumbled to his knees for the twentieth time and Alan lifted him upright. "Come on, pal, don't give out yet."
"Hell, no." Jeel straightened up with an obvious effort, staggered on a dozen steps, stumbled and fell flat. Alan bent over him, lifting him upright once more. The little alien was trembling in short, hard spasms.
"Look," Alan said, "we'd better find a place to rest. When the storm quits we'll go on again."
Jeel didn't argue. Alan half-carried him to a fallen tree, overgrown by vines and creepers. He burrowed into the underbrush until they were protected from most of the foul weather and pulled his cloak around both of them, trying to keep the Shirva warm.
Jeel lay slack and Alan could barely hear him breathing. An hour passed, and then another. There was no sign of the rain lessening, but at last a faint glow appeared behind the clouds on the horizon. One of Kasal's moons was rising.
Jeel moaned softly and moved convulsively. "We mus' go," he whispered.
"We can wait a while longer."
"No, we mus' go."
"Why?"
No answer. Alan sighed and crawled from their shelter, reaching back to assist Jeel. The Shirva's movements were frighteningly weak, and he seemed hardly able to get to his feet.
Alan braced him with an arm. "We're in Shirva territory now, aren't we, Jeel?"
"Whurrta?"
"Your people. Shouldn't we find him soon?"
"Ta non." Jeel was apparently too tired to translate the words into Basic, but Alan understood. Jeel hoped so, but he wasn't sure. They went on, Jeel stumbling against him, apparently only half-conscious. After less than ten minutes he went slack, his head sagging. Alan lowered him to the ground.
"Jeel!"
"Alan ..." the Shirva whispered, "you gotta go on, please. Find some an' bring it back."
"Jeel, you can't give up!"
"I can't, dammit!" Jeel began to sniffle. "My legs is hurtin' like fire, an' I can't see nothin' anymore. I can't even see you, kid!"
"That's 'cause it's dark. I can't see you very well, either."
"Shirva see in the dark real good, but not now. Please go on, dammit, kid!" The word was cut off on a sob. Alan swung the little native to his back.
"Hang on, Jeel. I'm not leaving you alone. We'll find it."
The Shirva didn't reply, his head drooping against Alan's shoulder. Alan struggled on through the trees, trying to convince himself that he could smell the plant somewhere ahead.
Jeel stirred against him. "Hey, put me down, dammit," he muttered weakly.
"Shut up."
"Put me down, kid."
Alan was too tired to argue. He let the Shirva slide to the ground. Instantly, Jeel's knees buckled and he fell.
Alan pulled him to his feet again and started to lift him. Jeel began to twist in his hold. "I'm okay --"
"Shut *up*!" Alan shook him angrily. "Listen to me, you little idiot! You're so darned sick you can't even stand up! Quit trying to be such a blasted hero and let me tote you along!"
Jeel had gone limp in his grasp, staring blankly up into the darkness. Alan felt very large and brutal suddenly, but at the moment he was too scared and desperate to care. "We're in one heck of a mess," he said. "So will you please stop making it more difficult? Just shut up and do as you're told for a change!"
Jeel gulped. "Okay, Alan," he whispered.
Alan swung the Shirva to his back again and strode on. Jeel's hands grasped his shoulders weakly. They proceeded for several minutes without speaking. Jeel lay slack against him, the grip of his small hands slowly loosening. Alan cleared his throat. "You okay, Jeel?"
No answer. Alan reached up to grasp the other's wrists with both hands. "Jeel?"
"Yes?"
"Are you okay?"
"Hell, yes." He could barely hear the whispered words. "Sorry, Alan, I am a dope."
"That's okay. I've acted the same way with Mark." Alan continued to make his way on through the pouring rain. There was nothing else to do. Jeel was dying, and his one chance lay now in finding some of the precious leaves before it was too late. An hour staggered by, and then another.
His legs had become leaden things, no longer a part of him. He trudged on, his senses blurring with fatigue. Jeel was a dead weight on his back, his arms hanging loosely around Alan's neck. The incessant rain slapped him in the face and cold drops trickled down the inside of his collar. How long had been walking? Wasn't it getting lighter? Alan blinked water from his lashes. Yes, he could see the dim silhouettes of trees around him.
"Jeel," he said.
No answer.
"Jeel!"
Still no response, no flicker of movement from the small form on his back. Alan paused, suddenly frightened. "Jeel! Answer me!"
Jeel didn't answer and Alan reached for his mind. Jeel was unconscious, and the life emanations from him were frighteningly weak. How long did he have? Hours? Minutes? "Jeel, for god's sake --"
Then the scent reached him, faint but unmistakable on a cold gust of wind. Lemke leaves! They were somewhere nearby, near enough for the odor to be detected. Alan began to run toward I, letting instinct guide him. The aroma grew rapidly stronger and more distinct, and less than a minute later he saw it -- a small, scrubby plant growing at the base of a tall tree.
"Jeel! Jeel, I've found it!" Alan knelt, regardless of the mud and began to pluck the long pointed leaves of the plant.
Fear knifed through him then, and he jerked sideways as a sound reached him. Jeel stirred, lifting his head weakly. "Whurrta?" he whispered.
The sound continued, a faint, soft hiss, like steam escaping from a kettle. Nausea washed over Alan in an all-engulfing wave. Jeel slid to the ground as the strength drained from Alan's limbs and he fell forward, retching uncontrollably. Something struck him hard in the center of his back, slamming him forward into the wet leaves. Overcome by illness, Alan was unable to resist as hands caught his hair, jerking his head up. The throat of his tattered tunic was pulled away, baring his throat.
"Ta!" It was Jeel's voice, weak and faint, reaching him faintly through the terrible waves of nausea. "Ta -- se purrta --"
The grip on his hair slackened. Alan opened his eyes and tried unsuccessfully to lift his head. Hands seized him, rolling him to his back.
There were Shirva all around him, a dozen at least. He saw their small forms through a swimming blur of tears. Four of the aliens were bending over him, and one held a small weapon, identical to the one Alan had seen in Jeel's hand. The barbed tip of the weapon had been smeared with a black, oily substance. Alan groaned and gagged helplessly.
"Se purrta tempa," Jeel said, his voice wavering.
The aliens were chattering together in their high, trilling voices. Alan groaned and gave himself up to misery.
**********
tbc
