Free Var the Stick by Piers Anthony Page A

he did not argue. "How are we to accomplish this?"
        The Master brought out a sketch he must have made during the months of his encampment here. "This is what the crazies call a contour map. I have made sightings of the mountain from all sides, and the land about It. See- here is our present camp, well beyond its defensive perimeter. Here is the hostel where the suicides stop before making the ascent. Here is the subway tunnel Var explored."
        "Subway?" Evidently the word was as new to Tyl as it was to Var.
        "The Ancients used it for travelling, Metal vehicles something like crazy tractors, except - that they roiled on tracks and moved much faster. The ones on the ground were called 'trains' and the ones below, 'subways.' Var tells me he discovered an actual train down there, too."
        Var had told him no such thing, He had only reported on what he found-tunnels, platforms, rails, a plug, a cave-in, radiation, a monster. He had seen nothing like a crazy tractor. Why should the Master lie?
        "I had hoped to use such a route to make a surprise foray. But the underworld knows of it now-knows that we know-that the radiation is down. So they will have it booby-trapped. We must make an overland attack."
        Tyl looked relieved. "My tribe will take it for you."
        The Master smiled. "I do not question the competence of your tribe. But your men are warriors of the circle.
        What would they do against guns? Guns fired from cover, from a distance, without warning. And flamethrowers?"
        "Flamethrowers?"
        "Jets of fire that consume a man in moments."
        Tyl nodded, but Var could see that he did not believe such a thing was possible, despite the other wonders they had learned about. Var didn't either. If fire were shot out in a jet, the wind would put it out.
        "Do you remember when someone told you about white moths whose sting was deadly? About tiny creatures who could overrun armed warriors? Fire that would float on water?"
        "I remember," Tyl said, and was sober.
        Var did not see what relevance such - rhetorical questions had to the problem, since everyone knew about the moths and the swarming shrews of the badlands. Floating fire was ridiculous. But now Tyl seemed to believe in flamethrowers.
        "This will be ugly fighting," the Weaponless said. "Men will die outside the circle, never seeing the men who kill them. We are like the shrews-we must swamp a prepared camp, and we shall die in multitudes. But if we persevere, we shall take the mountain despite all the horrors there.
        "Speak to your subcbiefs. Tell them to seek volunteers- true volunteers, not coerced men-for a battle where half of them will die. They will not be using their natural weapons. Those that enlist will be issued guns and shown how to use them."
        Tyl stood up, smiling. "I have longed for the old days. Now they return."
     
        Three thousand men of Tyl's monster tribe put aside their given weapons and took instruction in guns. Day and night, Jim's small tribe spread out over the firing range, each man supervising one warror at a time. When the gun had been mastered, the trainee was given the pistol or rifle and twenty rounds of ammunition and told to report back to the main camp. And not to fire it before the battle.
        Var was kept busy relaying messages from the Master to Tyl and the subchiefs. The Weaponless pored over his map of the mountain and made notations for strategy and deployment. "We are shrews," he said mysteriously. "We must utilize shrew tactics. They know we're here, but they don't know exactly when or how we'll attack. They won't kill their hostages until they're sure they can't be used for bargaining purposes. We shall try to overwhelm them before they realize it Even so, I do not expect to leave this campaign a happy man."
        The only hostage Var knew of was Sol, the prior Master of the empire. Why should his