Now he stood back, still not speaking, grinning like an animal from the night mountains, his chest panting in and out, looking from the thing he had done, to Lyte, and back. He got his breath. "He'll never make it," he nodded at Sim. "We'll have to leave him here. Come along, Lyte."
Lyte, like a cat-animal, sprang upon Chion, searching for his eyes, shrieking through her exposed, hard-pressed teeth. Her fingers stroked great bloody furrows down Chion's arms and again, instantly, down his neck. Chion, with an oath, sprang away from her. She hurled a rock at him. Grunting, he let it miss him, then ran off a few yards. "Fool!" he cried, turning to scorn her. "Come along with me. Sim will be dead in a few minutes. Come along!"
Lyte turned her back on him. "I will go if you carry me."
Chion's face changed. His eyes lost their gleaming. "There is no time. We would both die if I carried you."
Lyte looked through and beyond him. "Carry me, then, for that's how I wish it to be."
Without another word, glancing fearfully at the sun, Chion fled. His footsteps sped away and vanished from hearing. "May he fall and break his neck," whispered Lyte, savagely glaring at his form as it skirted a ravine. She returned to Sim. "Can you walk?"
Agonies of pain shot up his leg from the wounded ankle. He nodded ironically. "We could make it to the cave in two hours, walking. I have an idea, Lyte. Carry me." And he smiled with the grim joke.
She took his arm. "Nevertheless we'll walk. Come."
"No," he said. "We're staying here."
"But why?"
"We came to seek a home here. If we walk we will die. I would rather die here. How much time have we?"
Together they measured the sun. "A few minutes," she said, her voice flat and dull. She held close to him.
The black rocks of the cliff were paling into deep purples and browns as the sun began to flood the world.
What a fool he was! He should have stayed and worked with Dienc, and thought and dreamed.
With the sinews of his neck standing out defiantly he bellowed upward at the cliff holes.
"Send me down one man to do battle!"
Silence. His voice echoed from the cliff. The air was warm.
"It's no use," said Lyte, "They'll pay no attention."
He shouted again. "Hear me!" He stood with his weight on his good foot, his injured left leg throbbing and pulsating with pain. He shook a fist. "Send down a warrior who is no coward! I will not turn and run home! I have come to fight a fair fight! Send a man who will fight for the right to his cave! Him I will surely kill!"
&nb
sp; More silence. A wave of heat passed over the land, receded.
"Oh, surely," mocked Sim, hands on naked hips, head back, mouth wide, "surely there's one among you not afraid to fight a cripple!" Silence. "No?" Silence.
"Then I have miscalculated you. I'm wrong. I'll stand here, then, until the sun shucks the flesh off my bone in black scraps, and call you the filthy names you deserve."
He got an answer.
"I do not like being called names," replied a man's voice.
Sim leaned forward, forgetting his crippled foot.
A huge man appeared in a cave mouth on the third level.
"Come down," urged Sim. "Come down, fat one, and kill me."
The man scowled seriously at his opponent a moment, then lumbered slowly down the path, his hands empty of any weapons. Immediately every cave above clustered with heads. An audience for this drama.
The man approached Sim. "We will fight by the rules, if you know them."