"Now," said Taraka, "we go!"
They rose into the air and moved up the side of the well. The power of the Rakasha's attack increased, to be answered with an intensified counterattack. Sam covered his ears with his hands, but it did no good against the burning needles behind his eyes, which stirred whenever the silver skull swept in his direction. A short distance to his left, a whole section of rock vanished abruptly.
"They have not detected us," said Taraka.
"Yet," answered Sam. "That accursed Fire god can look through a sea of ink to spot a shifting grain of sand. If he turns in this direction, I hope you can dodge his-"
"How was that?" asked Taraka, as they were suddenly forty feet higher and somewhat farther to the left.
They sped upward now, and a line of melting rock pursued them. Then this was interrupted as the demons set up a wailing and tore loose gigantic boulders, which they hurled upon the gods, with the accompaniment of hurricanes and sheets of fire. They reached the lip of the well, passed above it and scurried back out of range.
"We must go all the way around now, to reach the corridor which leads to the door."
A Rakasha rose from out of the well and sped to their side.
"They retreat!" he cried. "The goddess has fallen. The One in Red supports her as they flee!"
"They do not retreat," said Taraka. "They move to cut us off. Block their way! Destroy the trail! Hurry!"
The Rakasha dropped like a meteor back into the well.
"Binder, I grow tired. I do not know whether I can bear us from the ledge outside all the way to the ground below."
"Can you manage it part of the way?"
"Yes."
"That first three hundred feet or so where the trail is narrow?"
"I think so."
"Good!"
They ran.
As they fled along the rim of Hellwell, another Rakasha rose up and kept pace with them.
"I report!" he cried. "We have destroyed the trail twice. Each time, the Lord of Flames has burnt a new one!"
"Then naught more can be done! Stay with us now! We need your assistance in another matter."
It sped on ahead of them, a crimson wedge lighting their way.
They rounded the well and raced up the tunnel. When they reached its end, they hurled the door wide and stepped out onto the ledge. The Rakasha who had led the way slammed the door behind them, saying, "They pursue!"
Sam stepped over the ledge. As he fell, the door glowed for an instant, then melted above him.
With the help of the second Rakasha, they descended the entire distance to the base of Channa and moved up a trail and around a bend. The foot of a mountain now shielded them from the gods. But this rock was lashed with flame in an instant.
The second Rakasha shot high into the air, wheeled and vanished.
They ran along the trail, heading toward the valley that held the chariot. By the time they reached it, the Rakasha had returned.
"Kali and Yama and Agni descend," he stated. "Shiva stays behind, holding the corridor. Agni leads the pursuit. The One in Red helps the goddess, who is limping."
Before them, in the valley, lay the thunder chariot. Slim and unadorned, the color of bronze, though it was not bronze, it stood upon a wide, grassy plain. It looked like a fallen prayer tower or a giant's house key or some necessary part of a celestial instrument of music that had slipped free of a starry constellation and dropped to the ground. It seemed to be somehow incomplete, although the eye could not fault its lines. It held that special beauty that belongs to the highest orders of weapons, requiring function to make it complete.
Sam moved to its side, found the hatch, entered.<.p>
"You can operate this chariot. Binder?" asked Taraka. "Make it race through the heavens, spitting destruction across the land?"
"I'm sure Yama would keep the controls as simple as possible. He streamlines whenever he can. I've flown the jets of Heaven before, and I'm banking that this is of the same order."
He ducked into the cabin, settled into the control seat and stared at the panel before him.
"Damn!" he announced, his hand starting forward and twitching back.
The other Rakasha appeared suddenly, passing through the metal wall of the ship and hovering above the console.
"The gods move rapidly," he announced. "Particularly Agni."
Sam snapped a series of switches and pressed a button. Lights came on all over the instrument panel and a humming sound began within it.
"How far is he?" asked Taraka.
"Almost halfway down. He widened the trail with his flames. He runs upon it now, as if it were a roadway. He burn obstacles. He makes a clear path."
Sam drew back on a lever and adjusted a dial, reading the indicators before him. A shudder ran through the ship.
"Are you ready?" asked Taraka.
"I can't take off cold. It has to warm up. Also, this instrument board is trickier than I'd thought."
"We run a close race."
"Yes."
From the distance, there came the sounds of several explosions rising above the growing growl of the chariot. Sam pulled the lever forward another notch, readjusted the dial.
"I go to slow them," said the Rakasha, and vanished as he had come.
Sam drew the lever two notches farther, and somewhere something sputtered and died. The ship stood silent once more.
He pushed the lever back into its former position, spun the dial, pushed the button again.
And again a shudder ran through the chariot, and somewhere a purring began. Sam drew the lever one notch forward, adjusted the dial.
After a moment, he repeated it, and the purr became a soft growl
"Gone," said Taraka. "Dead."
"Who? What?"
"The one who went to stop the Lord of Flames. He failed."
There were more explosions.
"Hellwell is being destroyed," said Taraka.
Perspiration upon his brow, Sam waited with his hand on the lever.
"He comes now-Agni!"
Sam looked through the long, slanted shield plate.
The Lord of Flames came into the valley.
"Good-bye, Siddhartha."
"Not yet," said Sam.
Agni looked at the chariot, raised his wand.
Nothing happened.
He stood, pointing the wand; and then he lowered it, shook it.
He raised it once more.
Again, no flame issued forth.
He reached behind his neck with his left hand, performed some adjustment upon his pack. As he did this, light streamed from the wand, burning a huge pit in the ground at his side.
He pointed the wand again.
Nothing.
Then he began running toward the ship.
"Electrodirection?" asked Taraka.
"Yes."
Sam drew back upon the lever, adjusted the dial farther. A huge roaring grew about him. He pressed another button and there came a crackling sound from the rear of the vessel. He moved another dial as Agni reached the hatch.
There was a flash of flame and a metallic clanging.
He rose from his seat and moved out of the cabin and into the corridor.
Agni had entered, and he pointed the wand.
"Do not move-Sam! Demon!" he cried, above the roar of the engines; and as he spoke, his lenses clicked red and he smiled. "Demon," he stated. "Do not move, or you and your host will burn together!"
Sam sprang upon him. Agni fell easily when he struck, for he had not believed that the other would reach him.
"Short circuit, eh?" said Sam, and hit him across the throat.
"Or sunspots?" and he struck him in the temple.
Agni fell to his side, and Sam hit him a final blow with the edge of his hand, just above the collarbone.
He kicked the wand the length of the corridor, and as he moved to close the hatch he knew that it was too late.
"Go now, Taraka," he said. "This is my fight from here on. You can do nothing more."
"I promised my assistance."
"You have none to give, now. Get out while still you can."
"If such is your will. But I have a final thing to say to you - "
"Save it! Next time I'm in the neighborhood-"
"Binder, it is this thing I learned of you-I am sorry. I - "
There was a terrible twisting, wrenching sensation within his body and mind, as the death-gaze of Yama fell upon him and struck deeper than his own being.
Kali, too, looked into his eyes; and as she did so, she raised her screaming scepter.
It was as the lifting of one shadow and the falling of another.
"Good-bye, Binder," came the words within his mind.
Then the skull began its screaming.
He felt himself falling.
There was a throbbing.
It was within his head. It was all about him.
He was awakened by throbbing, and he felt himself covered with aches, as with bandages.
There were chains upon his wrists and his ankles.
He was half seated on the floor of a small compartment. Beside the doorway sat the One in Red, smoking.
Yama nodded, said nothing.
"Why am I alive?" Sam asked him.
"You live for purposes of keeping an appointment made many years ago in Mahartha," said Yama. "Brahma is particularly anxious to see you once again."
"But I am not especially anxious to see Brahma."
"Over the years, that has become somewhat apparent."
"I see you got out of the mud all right."
The other smiled. "You are a nasty man," he said.
"I know. I practice."
"I gather your business deal fell through?"
"Unfortunately, yes."