Free The Overlords of War by Gérard Klein

slightest idea how one controlled a pegasone.
    The Monster—as he still thought of it despite his best efforts to the contrary—trembled with excitement. It had stopped whining and now was giving forth an irregular series of whistles. Raising his head, Corson could just make out three of its eyes.
    He heard the stranger utter a peculiar cry, braced for a shock, and— against all expectation—found himself falling. He was weightless. If he had not felt the straps floating around him and the massive body of the pegasone against his side, he would have believed that a pit had opened under his feet. Antonella gasped in surprise. He wanted to comfort her, but before he had time to frame the words, they emerged from darkness.
    Above them stars shone peacefully. Corson craned his neck, but the vast bulk of the beast hid Antonella from him.
    Then he saw something which took his breath away: another pegasone, like a giant mushroom turning in the air, occulting a vast area of the sky, its eyes flashing as wildly as the lamps on an insane computer. The stranger hung on its flank like a wart. He waved encouragement to them.
    Then Corson dared to look downward, expecting to see a pool of opaque fog. But in the weak starlight all he could make out was the ground in the clearing. A breeze was bowing many tall plants where, a few hours earlier, he had seen nothing but ashes. The camp seemed never to have existed.
    So they had made a jump through time. The pegasone was capable of motion not merely in space but far further across time than the wild Monster Corson was acquainted with. How far, he couldn’t guess; they might have gone back a night, a week, a century before Veran or even Corson reached Uria.
    It occurred to him to invoke Antonella’s talent. He called out, "What’s going to happen next?”
    She answered uncertainly. “I don’t know. I can’t cog anything at all.”
    Suddenly they went up like a rocket. The clearing disappeared in the black fleece of the forest. Now Corson realized the purpose of the space suits. At this rate they would be out of atmosphere in a few minutes.
    A smear crossed the sky, hiding the stars for a fraction of a second. Then another. Then the two fleeing pegasones were high enough for the sun to be seen over the eastern rim of the planet. They raced beneath a sky that grew blacker and blacker while, below, Uria was a huge bowl of shadow, crested on one side with a diadem of fire.
    Inexpressible jubilation overcame Corson’s mind.
    Once more, a dark smear on the sky. Although the vision lasted only an instant, this time he recognized it. A pegasone, no doubt one of Veran’s. The colonel hadn’t lost any time. No, that phrase didn’t mean anything. Since the pegasones were capable of time-jumping, Veran could have taken as long as he liked to prepare for the chase. He might have organized an ambush. These pegasones rushing by were no more than scouts beating the past and future in search of the quarry.
    Suddenly: a scrimmage. They were in the middle of a sphere of pegasones. The sun stared Corson in the face and he shut his eyes. It had crossed the sky in one gigantic bound. He understood why. To escape the snare, the stranger had dodged through time. For a moment they played this weird game with Veran’s cavalry on a chessboard of meters and seconds. But the outcome seemed scarcely to be in doubt. Each time they found themselves in the middle of a smaller sphere. Despite vacuum and great distance Corson fancied he could hear the soldiers’ shouts of triumph. The sun danced in the sky as though it had been turned into a bouncing ball. Was it below, to the side, or where? The planet Uria flickered between the brilliance of day and the obliteration of night.
    Corson saw the other pegasone, the stranger’s, coming dangerously close. He uttered a cry of warning. Antonella echoed him. The stranger leaned over and seized a handful of the tendrils on their steed. And the universe changed shape and