The napalm was effective. It struck the leading trio of attackers and clung like glue. There was no sound, but the two forward legs melted like molten plastic and the claws deformed. They retreated hastily, dripping fire.
“To your left!” Joshi shouted. “Something like a cannon!”
Yulin saw it by the flickering light and adjusted a dial on the rifle. The Torshind meanwhile had assembled a second weapon from the pack and shot a random half-moon of burning gelatin behind them, lighting up the surroundings.
Yulin fired again, this time in broad intermittent bursts, at a huge device that did indeed look like a cannon. When it went up, the whole area seemed to be melting.
“My God! They’re all over the place!” Yulin screamed. “Get me a new cylinder!”
There was a report of some kind from the right, and a large stone landed near them with a crash and rolled, almost getting the Torshind on the bounce.
Wooley seemed to snap out of whatever trance she was in and grabbed a napalm cylinder, tossing it to Yulin.
Mavra looked around at the eerie scene, trying to see what she could with her poor vision. Napalm at least was the right weapon here; it seemed to set fire to anything it touched. Whenever it landed the stuff melted, burned, and bubbled—and it spread.
The Torshind covered the rear while Yulin zeroed in on a large and complex cannon device that shot huge rocks. He was good with the rifle; the third blob struck, disabling the machine before the Pugeesh manning it could fire again.
And suddenly they were gone. Moving so fast the eye had trouble following, they just faded back into the brush, leaving only the burning remains of eight of their number and the bubbling wreckage of two cannons.
The minotaur was furious and turned on Wooley. “Some guard! They damn near had us!” he snarled.
The Yaxa was slightly bewildered. “I—I don’t know what happened,” she stammered, the cool self-confident tone of the Yaxa breaking for the first time. “I just seemed to sink into dreaming without even realizing it. I just don’t understand it—I never dream, normally.”
“Me, too,” Mavra put in, furious not only at her own lapse but also because in a battle such as this she had been totally helpless. “It just sank on me like a heavy, irresistible weight.”
The Torshind considered this. “I think perhaps there is no blame here. It is entirely possible that the Pugeesh caused those effects to take us off guard. I have heard of such things being done elsewhere.”
“Oh, damn!” Mavra swore. “Not another magic hex!”
“Call it what you will,” the Torshind replied, “I think we’d better be doubly on guard from now on. How many more cylinders do we have of this stuff? I don’t think anything but chemical fire is going to stop them. They appear to be silicon-based.”
Yulin, scared and still grumbling, looked into the ammo pouch. “Nine. That’s not so good. I don’t think we can fight more than two more battles like this.”
The Yugash silently agreed. “Let’s try diplomacy, then. What have we to lose? Reach over and switch my radio to external amplification, will you?”
Yulin was still too upset, and it was Wooley who made the adjustment.
The Torshind walked to the side of the camp. “Pugeesh!” it called, its voice booming now out into the night. “Pugeesh! We should talk! We are weary travelers, nothing more. We do not threaten you or what is yours. We need only to cross your land to reach the other side! No one else need die, on either side! We ask your permission to continue!”
They waited. There was no reply, but there were no further attacks, either. They settled back for an uneasy balance of the night as the fires slowly burned themselves out and black smoke rose into the night sky.
About forty kilometers back, the other group was fighting a similar battle with different weapons.
Trelig and Burodir were crouched behind rocks, shooting tracers at the attackers. They had some effect, but not much; although the Pugeesh were enormous, there was really very little to them. A wall of flame was much more effective than the odds of projectile hitting a vital spot.
The Dillians, acutely aware of how large a target they were, found concussion hand grenades much more effective. The shrapnel from the grenades found their marks in a wide spread.
One of the spindly creatures charged and a great claw reached out for Renard. The Agitar’s suit was from an Entry of his race; it was designed at several contact points to allow the electrical discharge of which all Agitar males were capable. The claw grabbed him, and he reached up and fed the charge into it.
There was a hiss and a crackle, and the Pugeesh curled up into an impossibly small burning ball. This made the other Pugeesh pause, and they drew back cautiously.
The grip hadn’t torn the suit, but it had been painful nonetheless. Renard hoped his shoulder was just bruised, not broken.
“Well, they’re not eager to die, anyway,” Trelig shouted optimistically.
The Ghiskind considered that. “Perhaps that works for us. Make sure this ptir doesn’t wander away,” it said, then abandoned the body, its red-cloaked visage floating into the darkness after the still-present but hesitant Pugeesh.
The creatures watched the Yugash’s approach and hurled some rocks at it, which passed harmlessly through. One took a sharp spear and lunged at the Yugash, also to no effect.
The specter reached the spear-thrower’s body and merged into it. The Pugeesh turned, convulsed, then charged into its fellows in the darkness.
Terrified, they uttered high-pitched screams.
The occupation was short-lived, however; too scared to do anything, the poor Pugeesh who’d been possessed simply dropped dead.
The Ghiskind emerged, satisfied with it demonstration, and headed for another. They pulled back in terror.
Frustrated that it couldn’t talk to them at this point, the Yugash turned and glided back, then returned into the ptir.
“I have just given those savages a demonstration of my powers,” it told them. “Perhaps now I can talk to them.”
The ptir scuttled toward them, and this time they were not hostile toward it. Their red faceted eyes had followed the fearsome ghost back to the camp and watched as it merged with the crystal being. They knew what approached them.
The Ghiskind stopped when it was convinced it had an audience, and turned its radio to external broadcast.
“Pugeesh! Hear me! We will cross your land. We will not harm or otherwise touch you or yours unless you attack us again. If you do, I promise you that not only you but your children will suffer for generations. Neither mind nor body of us shall you touch, and we will do the same. Is that agreed?”
There was no reaction for some time, then the sound of murmuring and mumbling. The Yugash received no formal reply, but soon heard the sound of many creatures moving off. Inspection revealed just one or two remaining, apparently observers.
In a way, they’d agreed.
Fairly confident now, the Yugash rejoined the others. “I don’t think they’ll bother us again. If they do, we’ll have to come up with a really big power demo.”
“Maybe they were luckier with the Yaxa group farther on,” Trelig said hopefully.
Vistaru, totally helpless in the battle because she was too small to man a weapon and her suit prevented flying or use of her stinger, sighed. “Poor Mavral” was all she could manage.
None of them slept the rest of the night, and they packed up and continued their journey at dawn’s first light. None of the strange creatures had molested them further in mind or body, and they hoped it would stay that way.
A couple of hours later they came upon the camp of the Yaxa party, saw the charred remains of the battle, and Vistaru noted with relief the lack of non-Pugeesh bodies about.