and a voice said: "Thorn!" before a two-fingered grip came up at his throat and spun him off-balance and crushed him in a choking hold. Thorn bent, caught one-handed at the arm and tried a throw. Sickness jolted through him to the roots of his teeth. He was pulled back and back stumbling in the leaves, and a grip twisted his wounded arm. "Get out of here!" Duun hissed into his ear. "Thorn, Thorn— it's me! Run for it! Get home!"
Duun's hand let go and shoved hard in the middle of his back. Thorn ran.
He ran and slipped on leaves and ran again; his side ached. Fire shot through it. His arm ached and the pain jolted through each step.
(Get home!)
(Do I believe you, Duun— do I do what you say? Is it a trap. Duun?) A gun cracked. Several. He heard the echo off the hills. There were shouts— there were voices, the howl of beasts.
(But Duun's back there.) Thorn stumbled to a stop, hit a tree in his blindness and leaned his back on it. His sight hazed. The pain was one vast 54
Cuckoo's Egg
throbbing now, beyond pain, or it had gotten to his heart. He blinked the night as clear as it would come. There were lights. There were more voices raised— shouts and cries and howls; again the discharge of a gun.
(Duun!")
Thorn began to run downslope, holding the loose arm still as he could.
Branches jabbed into his face and he ducked his head aside, ran blindly, trusting the slope of the land to tell him downhill from up— fended brush finally with the right hand and let the left drag on the brambles in cold, vast shocks. He heard his breathing, felt the tearing of his chest— there was no more night, no more world: it had shrunk to body-size, all sound diminished to the sound of his breath and his heart.
(They'll kill him like the cattle! Duun!)
A branch thrust into his way, wrapped living round him, locked and held.
"Thorn! Dammit— fool!"
Thorn hung there, on Duun's arm. Duun's strong grip spun him, seized him by both arms and shook him, snapping his head back.
"Fool! Where were you going?"
He could not answer. The pain came on in waves. Duun shook at him again. It was Duun. It smelled of Duun. (Scent-blind. Scent-blind fool.)
"I had to hurt someone," Duun said. It was anger. Duun shook at him.
"You hear me, fool! I had to hurt someone for your sake."
"I think— I think—" Shock came on him. His jaws passed his control, locked and chattered. And Duun took him to the ground. ("How many times did they get you? Gods. Gods. I see it….") He stretched him out there on the forest slope and probed the arm, while here and elsewhere came and went for him.
"Why?" he asked Duun. "Why did they do it?" While his jaws spasmed and chattered and the pain came and went. "Duun, were they supposed to do that?"
55
Cuckoo's Egg
"Shut up," Duun said. And hurt him, whether by intent or accident. Thorn went out a moment, came back with Duun slapping gently at his face.
"Can you move the fingers? I've got a gel on it. Move the fingers. Hear?"
Thorn tried. He thought they moved. He clenched his jaws, because Duun hauled him up against his shoulder and pulled him to his feet. The world went upside down as Duun's shoulder came into his groin and heaved.
Pain. The arm swung. Jolting pain as Duun moved. The world went black and red, phosphenes darting in his eyes, in the dark. Branches raked his back. There was instability as Duun climbed, so that he dared not move.
But the pain, the pain….
There was a darkness. Duun swung him down and let him to his knees on the slope, holding onto him. Duun's breath was in his face.
"You've got to walk," Duun said. "Hear me? Hear me, Thorn? You've got to walk now." Duun got an arm about him and pulled up on him. "Walk.
Hear me?"
Thorn heard. He tried. He heard Duun's gasping breaths, leaned on him, struggling for purchase on stone and earth and mold. "Climb," Duun said.
"Dammit, climb!"
Howls rose behind them in the woods. They lent Thorn strength. Duun's curses did. Duun carried him a
Duun's hand let go and shoved hard in the middle of his back. Thorn ran.
He ran and slipped on leaves and ran again; his side ached. Fire shot through it. His arm ached and the pain jolted through each step.
(Get home!)
(Do I believe you, Duun— do I do what you say? Is it a trap. Duun?) A gun cracked. Several. He heard the echo off the hills. There were shouts— there were voices, the howl of beasts.
(But Duun's back there.) Thorn stumbled to a stop, hit a tree in his blindness and leaned his back on it. His sight hazed. The pain was one vast 54
Cuckoo's Egg
throbbing now, beyond pain, or it had gotten to his heart. He blinked the night as clear as it would come. There were lights. There were more voices raised— shouts and cries and howls; again the discharge of a gun.
(Duun!")
Thorn began to run downslope, holding the loose arm still as he could.
Branches jabbed into his face and he ducked his head aside, ran blindly, trusting the slope of the land to tell him downhill from up— fended brush finally with the right hand and let the left drag on the brambles in cold, vast shocks. He heard his breathing, felt the tearing of his chest— there was no more night, no more world: it had shrunk to body-size, all sound diminished to the sound of his breath and his heart.
(They'll kill him like the cattle! Duun!)
A branch thrust into his way, wrapped living round him, locked and held.
"Thorn! Dammit— fool!"
Thorn hung there, on Duun's arm. Duun's strong grip spun him, seized him by both arms and shook him, snapping his head back.
"Fool! Where were you going?"
He could not answer. The pain came on in waves. Duun shook at him again. It was Duun. It smelled of Duun. (Scent-blind. Scent-blind fool.)
"I had to hurt someone," Duun said. It was anger. Duun shook at him.
"You hear me, fool! I had to hurt someone for your sake."
"I think— I think—" Shock came on him. His jaws passed his control, locked and chattered. And Duun took him to the ground. ("How many times did they get you? Gods. Gods. I see it….") He stretched him out there on the forest slope and probed the arm, while here and elsewhere came and went for him.
"Why?" he asked Duun. "Why did they do it?" While his jaws spasmed and chattered and the pain came and went. "Duun, were they supposed to do that?"
55
Cuckoo's Egg
"Shut up," Duun said. And hurt him, whether by intent or accident. Thorn went out a moment, came back with Duun slapping gently at his face.
"Can you move the fingers? I've got a gel on it. Move the fingers. Hear?"
Thorn tried. He thought they moved. He clenched his jaws, because Duun hauled him up against his shoulder and pulled him to his feet. The world went upside down as Duun's shoulder came into his groin and heaved.
Pain. The arm swung. Jolting pain as Duun moved. The world went black and red, phosphenes darting in his eyes, in the dark. Branches raked his back. There was instability as Duun climbed, so that he dared not move.
But the pain, the pain….
There was a darkness. Duun swung him down and let him to his knees on the slope, holding onto him. Duun's breath was in his face.
"You've got to walk," Duun said. "Hear me? Hear me, Thorn? You've got to walk now." Duun got an arm about him and pulled up on him. "Walk.
Hear me?"
Thorn heard. He tried. He heard Duun's gasping breaths, leaned on him, struggling for purchase on stone and earth and mold. "Climb," Duun said.
"Dammit, climb!"
Howls rose behind them in the woods. They lent Thorn strength. Duun's curses did. Duun carried him a
Similar Books
