r. You have only to fight as well as
he, and his cause will be vanquished..... Prepare yourself!" He could
not submerge his anger, knowing what Shannon had known, and reading the
thoughts of this proud and willful man.

He stepped back, and the weapon in Bota's hands was changed to a long
knife. Then, no longer an illusion, the marshal was given a physical
prowess equal to his own. But remembering the Cherokee, Simin gave him
still greater advantage.

As Bota stood bewildered, a deep murmur grew in the air all around him,
a rising chant, descending from the sky like a fall of cloud along the
way the ship had come. Those of his soldiers who looked behind them
saw the lesser ridge at its distance appear to grow, layered with the
ghost image of a high, terraced precipice, with statued spires rising
from its base.

The refugees saw these things as well, as the chant became mixed with
the sound of drumming wings. And it seemed to them that their own
numbers grew, or they were suddenly aware, of a vast multitude around
them. The marshal looked about him and at Simin, as if slowly
descending into Hell. The drone felt no pity for him.

"Fight for your life, if you are able!"

The mai began to circle with all the disciplined fire of his heart, and
Bota had no choice but to submerge his fear. He fought. He swung his
weapon tentatively at first, not believing it real. But this thought,
too, was soon of little avail. He slashed and dove, summoning all the
strength and endurance of his kind: the wakened animal, fearing death.
As the sound closed around them like witness to every struggle of good
and evil ever fought.

Their battle was even at first, with the Canton's fierce, desperate
will so confronted. Their battle was even.

But after a time that will began to waver, and his fear to grow to a
weakness inside him. Almost he sensed that the creature could not beat
him, had not the strength. Yet his fear formed an equal voice,
lamenting that its spirit fought on so, and would not be cowed. Both
were cut and bloodied, and weary to the point of exhaustion.

Simin, his own being stretched to the limit, sensed the other's
weakness and made it his island of hope. He continued.

And at the last, driven to a supreme and final effort, he drove his foe
to the ground in a shallow depression, and with a trembling foreclaw,
slashed his throat.

The man looked up with terror in his eyes, which slipped to sorrow,