Sitting, Blade scrutinized the heavens, marveling at the celestial spectacle. There seemed to be a well-nigh infinite number of stars, a sea of cosmic creation aswarm with fiery beacons radiating light and life to countless worlds. He wished he’d been born before the war, for the sole reason of being able to witness the historic missions to Mars and the establishment of a lunar base in a joint venture of the United States, the Soviet Union and France. It was most unfortunate space exploration ground to a halt after the liberal Russian president was deposed and the hard-liners regained control. America and Europe devoted all of their attention to producing armaments instead of spaceships.
The sputtering fire snapped Blade out of his contemplation. He realized they needed more wood. Slinging the Marlin over his right shoulder, he walked into the forest, scouring the ground for fallen limbs. He loaded his arms and returned.
As Blade bent to set the wood on the ground, a faint rustling arose to his rear. He pretended not to notice, straightened slowly, and whirled.
The ruse worked.
One of the things was back, standing near a tree 20 feet away, watching him.
Instantly Blade took off, not bothering to yell to his companions because they wouldn’t believe him anyway. He needed proof, and the only way to obtain it was to capture the creature. His legs pumping, he covered the ground in prodiguious bounds consistent with his size. Only one other person in the entire Family had ever beaten him at a foot race—a martial artist named Rikki-Tikki-Tavi—and he had no doubt he’d catch the nymph.
As quick as the giant was, the pale being was even quicker. It spun and took off like a frightened deer, moving with astonishing speed and seeming to fly over the terrain.
Blade breathed easily, adopting a natural rhythm, determined to stay after the thing until he dropped from exhaustion or caught it. In the back of his mind he wondered if the red-eyed monster might still be about, and he wavered for a few strides before reminding himself he was a Warrior and Warriors never let fear get the better of them.
The pale creature maintained a steady lead, never gaining or losing ground, bearing to the south.
If not for the full moon, Blade would have found the going extremely difficult. He tripped once on a root but righted himself quickly. Every now and then a limb snatched at his vest or gouged him in the cheek.
For several minutes the chase continued. The creature angled to the west, seldom looking back, apparently heading for a specific destination.
Blade lost all track of where he was. He guessed they were passing to the east of the castle. To his annoyance, the thing ran even faster and gained a wider lead. Even Rikki wouldn’t be able to overtake it, he realized, but he stubbornly kept running.
The creature paused to look at its pursuer, then forged ahead, darting into a group of saplings and disappearing.
Not again, Blade reflected, sprinting to the stand and barging through the slender trees. Not until he broke from cover and saw the mausoleums did he realize he was at the border of the yard.
There was no sign of the thing.
Damn!
Furious at losing it, Blade walked into the open and looked in all directions. Where had the creature gone? Despite its demonstrated fleetness, the thing couldn’t have crossed the yard in the time he took to reach the edge of the woods. Was it hiding behind one of the tombs?
Unslinging the rifle, he moved to the nearest mausoleum and circled it.
Nothing.
Blade went to the next, then the next, and nowhere was there a clue to the creature’s whereabouts. Mystified, he moved to the middle of the yard and halted. Now he didn’t have any proof to show Hickok and Geronimo.
All that effort had been wasted.
A sharp gust of wind from the north caused the trees to rustle and brought something with it—the faint sound of music.
Shocked, Blade gazed at the darkened castle. Were his ears playing tricks on him or did he really hear the soft strains of a melodious instrumental wafting through the air? As he strode toward the structure, the volume increased slightly. There could be no doubt. Somewhere in the bowels of the edifice someone was playing music.
He considered fetching his friends and letting them hear for themselves, but what if the music stopped before they came back? Neither of them would believe him. They’d laugh in his face and claim he was going off the deep end, and being humiliated once a night was more than enough for him.
Blade debated whether to investigate further, then thought of his friends slumbering unprotected back at camp. Reluctantly, he retraced his footsteps. At daybreak he would return to the castle and find a way in.
Somehow, he intuitively knew the secret to the many mysteries they’d encountered lay within that foreboding monument from ancient times.
He covered half the distance when a guttural snarl off to his left drew him up short. Was it a mutation or a normal predator? His eyes roving over the murky vegetation, he proceeded warily. Between the 45-70 and his Bowies he should be able to handle anything that came along except for dinosaur-sized beasts with glowing red eyes.
Blade reached the camp without mishap and found his buddies still sleeping peacefully. He immediately fed fuel to the fire, and when the flames were high enough he sat back and draped his forearms on his knees. Jenny’s beautiful image filled his thoughts, so he spent the next hour reviewing their disagreement over when to bind and another argument they’d had over what to name their first boy. She’d been so proud of him after his Naming, and a discussion about the importance of selecting the perfect name led to a consideration of the ones they’d want to bestow on their own children. Both of them liked Judy or Lisa for a girl, but they clashed where their future male offspring were concerned. Jenny wanted to call their firstborn boy Gabriel. Blade wanted a more colorful name, but his wife-to-be absolutely refused to have any son of hers be called Tarzan.
The remaining hours until daylight were uneventful. Blade kept the fire roaring, making two additional trips to gather wood before the first streaks of light tinged the eastern sky. He rose and stretched, grateful the night was over.
Unexpectedly, from the direction of the castle, came a series of three strident, sustained musical notes.
Hickok and Geronimo were on their feet before the sounds faded. The gunman’s hands hovered over his Colts as he swung from side to side, not yet fully awake but trying to identify the source of the noise.
“What the blazes was that?”
“Sounded like a bugle or a trumpet,” Blade speculated.
“Who’d be playing music at this time of day?” Hickok asked grumpily.
“They should have their head examined.”
“This day begins as strangely as the last one ended,” Geronimo commented.
“I’m glad both of you heard that bugle,” Blade said.
“You are?” Geronimo responded.
“Yep. Because now you’ll believe me when I tell you I heard music last night when I was standing near the mausoleums.”
Geronimo was all interest. “What were you doing there?”
“I chased one of those nymphs.”
A protracted groan issued from Hickok. “Terrific,” he muttered. “I’m not up five minutes and already we’re talking about the phantom fairies.”
“Why don’t we eat breakfast, then investigate the castle,” Blade suggested.
“Do we get to kick in the door if no one answers our knock?” Hickok inquired.
“Yes. I get the feeling someone is playing us for fools, and I want to get to the bottom of this whole business.”