"Arbush!" The bar was too short, his strength insufficient. "To me! Eloise, take the rope and work with Adara. Move!"
Dumarest sucked in his breath as the minstrel joined him, plump hands locking over his own.
"On the word. Get ready. Now!"
Again he heaved, legs straddled, back arched, blood darkening his fingernails. Arbush added his strength, pushing, breath rasping, boots clamped against the floor. The bar yielded a little.
"Earl!"
Eloise, her voice high, rising above the drone of an approaching Monitor; but there was no time to look.
"Damn it!" gasped Arbush. "So near-"
He lunged forward as something broke with a rip of metal; his weight hit Dumarest, sending him staggering back, the bar still in his hand. Beyond the rounded figure he could see the woman and Adara, the rope between them looped around the legs of a Monitor; another was advancing, hands extended.
The bar left his hand, hurtling across the fifty feet of space between them to slam its length against the painted face, the glowing eyes.
"The units!" The door of the store was open wide, Arbush delving inside where compact mechanisms hung on brackets; smoothly rounded and shaped metal fitted with an elaborate harness. "We've got them-but there's no time."
Dumarest thrust him aside. In a row, held in clips, stood a line of squat cylinders fitted with grips, a movable projection. He snatched one, saw the orifice at one end, the sights on the barrel and found the release. A weapon which, of necessity, would be rendered harmless before being stored. Unloaded, perhaps, certainly uncocked. He dragged at the projection, felt it slide, heard a soft click.
"Down!" he shouted. "All of you, down!"
He hit the floor as they obeyed, cradling the weapon, aiming it at the Monitor who had fallen and was now regaining its feet; closing his finger on the trigger as the sights came into line. A thread of fire spat from the muzzle reaching towards the torso, to dissolve in a gush of flame, a roaring explosion.
A second shot and the other Monitor joined the first, lying in broken wreckage; shattered plates blasted open to reveal inner mechanisms, the freed liquids of a crystal container, the pulped mass of the residual brain.
"God!" Eloise rose, hands clamped to her ears, a bit of blood showing at one nostril. "That was close, Earl. You damned near burst my eardrums."
"You'll live. Get into one of the units."
"What?" She had forgotten the hands at her ears. Dropping them, she came towards him. Irritably Dumarest gestured her aside.
"Don't stand in the line of fire. It won't take long for more Monitors to get here. Now get into one of those flying units. Adara! You know how they are used. Instruct us."
Basically they were simple; a power-pack activating anti-gravity plates, straps which went over the shoulders, around the torso, up between the thighs. The lift was from the base of the pack, controlled by a simple switch. Direction was governed by movements of the body.
"First you lift," said Adara. "When you get high enough, you throw your head and upper body forward. There are automatic compensating plates so that you don't fall. If you can manage to remain straight, with your head in the direction you want to go, you'll get maximum velocity."
"And if you want to twist, face back in the direction from which you came?"
"You can do it, Earl. You'll have to adjust the lift, of course; otherwise you'll keep rising." Adara made a helpless gesture. "Mostly it's a matter of practice."
Which the Monitors had and they did not. And there was no time to do more than test, to see if the units held power.
Already the Monitors were arriving, tall shapes glinting as they strode down the corridors leading to the gate. From the store Dumarest handed each one a gun, tucking another beneath his harness. Adara looked blankly at the one in his hands.
"What do I do with it, Earl?"
"You cock it, so. Then you point it at what you want to hit and squeeze that trigger. Now outside, all of you!"
The last to go, he paused at the door; turning, the weapon leveled in his hands. The Monitors were close; fragments whined, striking the wall to one side, smoke and flame tainting the air as he blasted them to ruin. Again he fired, sending missiles into the open store, filling it with destruction; explosions occurred as the contents erupted in a burst of energy which sent metal running in a molten tide.
The other units ruined, the weapons; time gained as they got away.
Outside the cold struck like a knife, numbing exposed cheeks, hands and fingers. Dumarest donned thick gloves and hit the control, rising with the others, passing them, slowing as he made an adjustment.
"Arbush, stay close!"
The minstrel was high and drifting to one side. With a jerk he twisted in mid-air, legs lifting as he leveled out in an upward-sloping glide. Eloise, with her dancer's agility, had quickly mastered the elementary system of control. She reached for the plump shape, caught at a strap and brought him into line. Adara was far to the south.
"Catch him!" Dumarest caught up with the others and gripped the woman's arm, nodding towards Adara. "Keep up with him. Hold his hand, but don't let him get away. We have to stay together."
She twisted, smiling.
"Let him go, Earl. We don't need him."
"He needs us."
"I didn't mean forget him. We just don't need what he can teach us. These things are easy to handle."
For her, perhaps, but not for the minstrel. He darted from side to side; over-compensating, dipping to rise, to twist. Dumarest passed over him, gripped his other arm.
"We'll hold him between us, Eloise. Now let's get Adara."
He had slowed and was waiting. Together, like a flock of ungainly birds, hands clasped for mutual aid, they rose up and flew away from the city.
Eloise laughed as she saw it shrink, to dwindle and lose itself in the wilderness.
"The end, Earl. Five years of hell and now I'm free. Free. And I owe it all to you."
"We're not clear yet, Eloise."
"We will be," she said confidently. "And when we are, I'll show you what gratitude really means. What a woman in love can do for her man. When we're alone I'll-"
A gust of wind drowned the rest of her words and Dumarest was glad of it. Adara would be listening, but more important was the woman's attitude of mind. While she dreamed of the future, she would tend to ignore the dangers of the present.
Releasing his grip Dumarest turned and looked towards the rear, seeing nothing. As he resumed his former position Arbush muttered, "Earl, it's damned cold."
It was freezing. The wind was against them, a frigid blast which robbed their bodies of heat. Flying took little physical effort and they were inviting hypothermia, despite the muffling garments.
"Well land after a while," said Dumarest. "Walk on for a time and warm ourselves up."
"When?"
"Soon." It would have to be soon. Adara was hunched, trembling; Eloise now silent, her face a deathly white. Softened by the city, they were ill-suited to rigor. "In an hour."
An hour of flight; then twenty minutes in which they stumbled over the ice, beating numbed hands, generating heat by the activity of their bodies; then into the air again always into the wind, always heading towards the south.
And, at dusk, came the snow.
Chapter Fourteen
Arbush chuckled, rubbing his hands over the smoking glow of burning rag smeared with oil, the light dancing on his face, the thrown-back hood.
"Remember the last time we camped like this, Earl? Hurt, you nearly dead, down to the last drop of brandy? We found a cave then and had a candle of sorts. Now we've got luxury."