took up waddies and spears, peering into the scrub from where the roving party came on them like ascended deadmen, eerily pale, gaunt, ungraceful.
Tails of flame shaped the clansmen from the dark in a volley of shots and the bright gouts of their blood erupted. Two were felled, the others fled, the common squall of their cries sounding while the rovers repacked their weapons. Black Bill was first reloaded and first into the campsite, his eyes cutting every way. He shouldered past a stumbling woman, stalked deeper into the camp with his weapon trained on the ragged torn shadows cast by the fires. A great knot of people broke off before the party, naked women hauling naked children, young men as thinly boned as the spears they threw, the whole howling in one voice of consummate horror. Without thought the ruiners lay about themselves with the butts of their weapons, knocking down whoever strayed too near or firing into that mass unhindered.Some of the clan ran through the fires to escape and some trampled the fallen where they screamed. An old man tottered as he held a wound in his ribs. Black Bill drew his knife but the fellow was lost and gone in the blind dark scrub and Bill moved off through the pall of sulfur after the headman.
It had become by now a scene of great misery. Wailing sounded in the bush beyond the firelight as the clansfolk decamped for the fastness of the mountain forest. The assignees followed the cries of which they had no understanding but Black Bill did and he knew parents called for children and wives for husbands and above it all was the war cry of men steeling to fight. They gave fire without discrimination into the body of stampeding people who fell all alike. The assignees stopped to reprime their weapons and fired on one knee or at a run and soon the drifts of gunsmoke choked the air and the blood trails tracked across the campsite shone in the light of the bonfires.
Black Bill stared along the barrel of his piece as he moved among the bark huts. Around the darkened edges of the village Pigeon and Crook skulked in a strange parody of the vanished clanspeople they hunted, grim and watchful. Bill went low past the rough dwellings and into the trees edging the village and here the screaming wounded could be heard between all the weapon fire. By the smokeblue moonlight Bill made out the headman carrying a child under each arm, bursting up the wooded slope in great strides. His greased skinshowed in silver flashes between the trees as he ran and the children’s legs bounced. The Vandemonian called him out with a hoarse roar. Manalargena stopped and turned and his white eyes loomed stark in his face as he called down to the Vandemonian, Tummer-ti makara!
Give yerself up.
milaythina nika.
Black Bill felt the belled muzzle buck as he fired. The report played out in the hills. Through the haze he saw the headman buckle but then right himself and the children screamed as he broke away for the mountain folds to the north, bearing them with him. Bill followed, pulling himself up the steep slope by handfuls of bracken and entering the gums after the headman. If there was blood it was lost in the dark. While the roar of firearms flattened behind him in the cold the Vandemonian studied the dogwood but he saw no trace of the headman. Bill came to a fallen tree in the scrub where a plush moss grew and covered the trunk entire. He felt along its surface for signs of disturbance but in that abysmal dark he saw barely where to place his hand. He stood and turned, listening over the beating of his heart. He heard nothing. All was still. He moved on another few hundred feet and crouched in the bushes and here he reprimed his weapon and dosed the pan from the powder bag. As he moved off there came a snivelling from further up the rise, then the clatter of underbrush. The children were clinging together among some burly knotted blue gum rootswhen he saw them. He came through the brush angling his body that he might
Tails of flame shaped the clansmen from the dark in a volley of shots and the bright gouts of their blood erupted. Two were felled, the others fled, the common squall of their cries sounding while the rovers repacked their weapons. Black Bill was first reloaded and first into the campsite, his eyes cutting every way. He shouldered past a stumbling woman, stalked deeper into the camp with his weapon trained on the ragged torn shadows cast by the fires. A great knot of people broke off before the party, naked women hauling naked children, young men as thinly boned as the spears they threw, the whole howling in one voice of consummate horror. Without thought the ruiners lay about themselves with the butts of their weapons, knocking down whoever strayed too near or firing into that mass unhindered.Some of the clan ran through the fires to escape and some trampled the fallen where they screamed. An old man tottered as he held a wound in his ribs. Black Bill drew his knife but the fellow was lost and gone in the blind dark scrub and Bill moved off through the pall of sulfur after the headman.
It had become by now a scene of great misery. Wailing sounded in the bush beyond the firelight as the clansfolk decamped for the fastness of the mountain forest. The assignees followed the cries of which they had no understanding but Black Bill did and he knew parents called for children and wives for husbands and above it all was the war cry of men steeling to fight. They gave fire without discrimination into the body of stampeding people who fell all alike. The assignees stopped to reprime their weapons and fired on one knee or at a run and soon the drifts of gunsmoke choked the air and the blood trails tracked across the campsite shone in the light of the bonfires.
Black Bill stared along the barrel of his piece as he moved among the bark huts. Around the darkened edges of the village Pigeon and Crook skulked in a strange parody of the vanished clanspeople they hunted, grim and watchful. Bill went low past the rough dwellings and into the trees edging the village and here the screaming wounded could be heard between all the weapon fire. By the smokeblue moonlight Bill made out the headman carrying a child under each arm, bursting up the wooded slope in great strides. His greased skinshowed in silver flashes between the trees as he ran and the children’s legs bounced. The Vandemonian called him out with a hoarse roar. Manalargena stopped and turned and his white eyes loomed stark in his face as he called down to the Vandemonian, Tummer-ti makara!
Give yerself up.
milaythina nika.
Black Bill felt the belled muzzle buck as he fired. The report played out in the hills. Through the haze he saw the headman buckle but then right himself and the children screamed as he broke away for the mountain folds to the north, bearing them with him. Bill followed, pulling himself up the steep slope by handfuls of bracken and entering the gums after the headman. If there was blood it was lost in the dark. While the roar of firearms flattened behind him in the cold the Vandemonian studied the dogwood but he saw no trace of the headman. Bill came to a fallen tree in the scrub where a plush moss grew and covered the trunk entire. He felt along its surface for signs of disturbance but in that abysmal dark he saw barely where to place his hand. He stood and turned, listening over the beating of his heart. He heard nothing. All was still. He moved on another few hundred feet and crouched in the bushes and here he reprimed his weapon and dosed the pan from the powder bag. As he moved off there came a snivelling from further up the rise, then the clatter of underbrush. The children were clinging together among some burly knotted blue gum rootswhen he saw them. He came through the brush angling his body that he might
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