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Updated: June 3, 2025
Remember of the present one part of the Apache's mind was wryly amused at that snarled estimate of their situation. Men who had been dropped into their racial and ancestral pasts until the present time was less real than the dreams conditioning them had a difficult job evaluating any situation. But since Menlik had clung to his knowledge of English, he must be less far down that stairway.
"He hunts with wolves who think like men." She supplied the information the shaman would not openly ask for. "I have seen them act as his scouts. This is no spirit thing, but real and of this world!" "Any man may train a dog to his bidding!" Menlik spat. "Does a dog obey orders which are not said aloud? These brown wolves come and sit before him, look into his eyes.
"This time we ride, and we shall take an accounting from those out there a fine accounting!" "They still have other controllers," Travis pointed out. "And you have that which is an answer to all their machines," blazed Menlik in return. "They will send against us your own people if they can," Buck warned. Menlik pulled at his upper lip. "That is also truth.
The derelict spaceship as he had first found it the dead alien officer had still been seated at its controls! The alien who had set the tape which took them out into that forgotten empire he was the subject of Menlik's drawing! "Where? When did you see such a one?" The Apache bent down over the Tatar. Menlik looked troubled. "He came into my mind when I walked the valley.
"Yes, we knew that if we could get beyond the machines, there was freedom for us. And we planned many of us planned. Then nine or ten sleeps ago those others were very excited. They gathered in their ship, watching their machines. And something happened. For a while all those machines went dead. "Jagatai, Kuchar, my brother Hulagur, Menlik...." She was counting the names off on her fingers.
Jil-Lee suggested. Menlik spoke over his shoulder to his own party. There was a babble of answer, two or three of the men raising their voices above those of their companions. "If set in the right direction, yes," the shaman conceded. "When do you plan to move, Apaches?" "At once!" But they did not have wings, and the cross-country march they had to make was a rough journey on foot.
The tribesmen sat their horses, facing Travis, watching him with the feral eyes of the wolves they claimed as forefathers, wolves that possessed the cunning of the wild, cunning enough not to rush breakneck into unknown danger. Travis walked forward. "Menlik, I would talk " There was an outburst from the horsemen, protests from Hulagur and one or two of the others.
He was surveying the heights above the pocket in which Menlik and two of the Mongols were piling brush. "There ... there ... and there...." The Apache's chin made three juts. "If the pilot swoops for a quick look, our cross fire will take out his blades." They held a last conference with Menlik and then climbed to the perches Jil-Lee had selected.
Menlik asked shrewdly. Travis stared beyond the Tatar shaman to the men about the fire. His nightmare dragged into the open.... What if a ship did come in, one with Ashe, Murdock, men he knew and liked, friends on board? What then of his guardianship of the towers and their knowledge? Could he be as sure of what to do then?
He smoothed a space of soft earth and with the narrow tip of his wand began to draw. Whatever role Menlik had played in the present before he had been reconditioned into a shaman of the Horde, he had had the ability of an artist, for with a minimum of lines he created a figure in that sketch. It was a man or at least a figure with general human outlines.
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