A range which swung in a curve around the valley in which they had landed to fret and fall into massed detritus toward the south. So much had been noticed when they had dropped from the skies; now a closer investigation was to be made. Not for Belkner's benefit but for his own.
Dumarest looked at the skies, the blue dome traced with cloud, the golden ball of the sun, dazzling, painful to his eyes. A warm and comforting sun which touched the sward, the patches of massed blooms, the distant sheen of sparkling water.
At his side Urich whispered, "No terrors, Earl. No monsters or creatures of nightmare. No acid rain or drifting motes of searing fire. No burning mountains. No strangling mists. Well, so much for legend."
And so much for the talk of trees loaded with a variety of jewels, the rivers of wine, the hills of precious metals, the fruits which restored youth. The balms and salves to ease all pain. The juices to cure all ills. The things which made Earth the paradise it was supposed to be.
But, if they were absent; the crystal palaces were not.
"There!" Belkner rose in the body of the raft, pointing, his free hand shading his eyes. "Did you see it? There!"
A flash of sudden brilliance, eye-bright, burning with a diamond glitter. It vanished to be repeated to one side. A bright mote which winked and was replaced by another, still brighter, spread along the line of the distant hills.
"Silica," said Urich. "Exposed veins catching and reflecting the sun. Like mirrors," he explained. "I've seen it before. On Ventle and Anchor the veins are tainted with minerals so they hold a variety of colors. Tourists come to see them."
Dazzling displays of natural beauty to be seen at their best when the sun was right and the weather. Dumarest had seen such things but he doubted if this was the same. The raft rose higher at his order, the speed increasing, the soft breeze created by their passage ruffling his hair.
"There!" said Belkner again. "To the left of that peak. See? It looks like-" He broke off as the raft carried them closer then ended, incredulously, "A castle! It's a castle!"
But one never built by men.
It clung to the side of a crag, sheer rock falling below, seams and cracks to either side. A mass of glistening substance which could have been glass or hardened foam laced with silica. A shapeless form yet one bearing the suggestion of spires and turrets and soaring buttresses. Of pointed arches and enigmatic windows and the vague hint of massive doors. An edifice of diamond, blazing when reflecting the sun, nacreous when it did not.
And, from it, rising like a stream of dispersing smoke, a cloud of glittering shapes spun and wheeled and soared in winged abandon.
"Angels!" Nyne ignored the raft which shuddered beneath his hands. "By God-they're angels!"
Dumarest lunged forward, knocking Nyne from his seat, snatching at the controls as again the raft shuddered, tilting as it hit the turbulence rising from the heated stone of the hills. There was a moment in which earth and sky spun in wild confusion then the vehicle had leveled and was lifting.
Rising into a swarm of wheeling shapes.
Figures which swept close to avoid contact at the last second, the wind of their passing merging with the rustle of shimmering wings. Man-sized, slim, gracefully contoured, beautifully marked.
As Sheiner lifted his gun, Belkner said sharply, "No! You can't fire! You can't hurt them! They're… they're…"
Images born in wistful dreams when land bound men had yearned for the ability to fly. Concepts of perfection, of life untrammeled with mud and cold and baking heat. The ideal of freedom personified in wings, the empty expanses of the air, the liberty to go over mountains and across seas.
"Please," said Belkner. "They are too lovely to destroy."
Urich shrugged, not lowering the weapon, waiting for Dumarest to give the word. But there was no need to blast the wheeling shapes from the sky, no threat to be met with a hail of hammering missiles. Dumarest leaned back, relaxed, watching. A man at ease though one hand remained on the gun at his side; hard experience had taught him that to be careless was to invite destruction.
"Birds," whispered Belkner. "But so large!"
"Not birds." Nyne spoke through his twisted mouth. "No beaks, see? And their eyes-" He drew in his breath. "Angels," he said. "They're angels."
Things he had never seen. Creatures of legend, elements of myth, belonging only to tales of ancient glories. Winged beings with godlike attributes and beautiful beyond comprehension. Tales born, perhaps, of vaguely remembered races now dead and gone, but here a fragment could have remained.
"Nests," mused Urich Sheiner. "Those crystal palaces must be their nests. Insects, Earl? It would fit the pattern."
Perhaps giant moths or radiant butterflies, though the things he saw didn't fit their likeness. Dumarest narrowed his eyes, searching for detail, for clues. No spindle-legs, no faceted eyes, no fuzz, claws, sharply defined thorax or abdomen. Instead he saw what could have been naked adolescents, devoid of strong sexual variation, their faces smooth, bland with thin, delicate nostrils, high-arched brows, elongated eyes which held amber pupils slitted like those of a feline. The mouths were soft, full-lipped, the chins round. The bodies were blotched with variegated color, the hair rising in a crest on the peaked skulls looked like close-set bristles.
The wings were magnificent.
Shimmering expanses which reflected the light in metallic hues of kaleidoscopic glory.
Vanes which spread to catch the air and lift the bodies to send them wheeling and darting in a pattern so complex as to baffle the eye. Couples met, to clasp each other in slender arms, to fall, to break and rise again.
The raft tilted as one landed on the rail. Tilted still more as others joined the first. A row of enigmatic faces stared into the body of the vehicle, prehensile toes gripping as shimmering wings maintained their balance. Too much weight wrongly distributed and Dumarest swore as he fought the controls.
"Clear them! Now!"
Death came to join the beauty, rising on gusts of turbulent air, catching the frail craft and accentuating the tilt, adding spin so that their lives hung on a razor's edge. Only Dumarest's skill kept them from overturning, from spinning like a broken leaf to smash into the jagged stone below.
"Clear them!" he shouted again. "Blast them loose!"
"No!" Nyne lunged forward as Urich lifted his gun. The tilt of the raft caused him to lose his balance and, to save it, he snatched at the barrel as Urich opened fire. The stream of bullets intended to rip the air high above the enigmatic faces tore into his own, smashing bone, teeth, skull and jaw. Blood sprayed in a fountain mixed with the greyish pulp of brain.
The impact sent him falling, headless, to the edge of the raft; to topple over the rim and to fall, spinning to the ground below.
He was not alone.
Three other shapes, wings trailing shimmering glory, fell after him, the broken bodies they supported blotched now with unnatural stains. The raft leveled as the rest rose in a thunder of wings, one twisting, trying to climb, jerking in midair before falling back into the body of the raft.
"God!" Belkner looked sick. "Dear God-did you have to do that?"
"Hold on!" The danger wasn't yet over and Dumarest had no time to answer stupid questions. Air whined as he sent the raft plunging toward the ground, gaining speed to level and soar up and away from the hills, the shimmering castles, the winged shapes now milling in furious activity behind. "Urich?"
"None close." Sheiner hefted his gun. "You think they'll attack?"
"Want to risk your neck on it?"
"No." The action made small metallic noises as Urich checked his weapon. "Angels," he said. "Some angels."
"You didn't have to open fire," said Belkner. He was bitter. "There were other ways."
Dumarest said, "We were in danger. There was no time to be gentle."
"But to kill them? Beautiful things like that?"
Urich said patiently, "You saw what happened. I was aiming high to frighten them off with a burst when that fool Nyne grabbed the gun. Well, he paid for his mistake and it's no use crying over the rest. It happened and we have to live with it." He looked down at the dead creature sprawled in the body of the raft and said, in a changed tone, "Earl, come and look at this."
Dumarest checked the controls, locked them, came to stand at his side.
"There!" Sheiner pointed. "See?"
"See what?" Belkner frowned. "What are you talking about?"