Tilley, Patrick - The Amtrack Wars 05 - Death - Bringer

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The Amtrak Wars - Book 5 - Death-Bringer

By: Patrick Tilley

Synopsis:

With Clearwater now safely in their hands, the Federation hatches a

plan to capture Cadillac and Mr Snow and annihilate the Clan McCall: a

plan which forces Steve to continue his double role as loyal agent of

the Federation and blood-brother to the Mutes. The First Family is

hell-bent on exacting retribution for past defeats but the

twice-bloodied House of Yama-Shita is also thirsting for vengeance.

Both parties blindly pursue their own ends unaware that the outcome is

governed not by force of arms but by the irrevocable power of

prophecy.

Also by Patrick Tilley."

THE AMTRAK WARS BOOK 1: CLOUD WARRIOR THE AMTRAK WARS BOOK 2: FIRST

FAMILY THE AMTRAK WARS BOOK 3: IRON MASTER THE AMTRAK WARS BOOK 4:

BLOOD RIVER THE AMTRAK WARS BOOK 6: EARTH-THUNDER MISSION FADEOUT STAR

WARTZ

The Amtrak Wars Book 5: Death-Bringer

PATRICK TILLEY

ORBIT

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An Orbit Book

First published in Great Britain by Sphere Books Ltd 1989

Reprinted 1990 (twice), 1991

Reprinted by Warner Books 1995

Reprinted 1995

Reprinted by Orbit 1998

been asserted.

All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance

to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval

system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior

permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in

any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published

and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed

on the subsequent purchaser.

A ClP catalogue record for this book is available from the British

Library.

ISBN 1 85723 539 8

Printed in England by Clays Ltd. St Ives plc

Orbit

A Division of Little, Brown and Company (ilK) Brettenham House

Lancaster Place

London we2E 7EN

For

Patrick, Freddie and Sean the next generation who were into computers

before they were out of nappies and have now come to grips with

karate.

From the way things are shaping up this looks like a good career move

for anyone with a ticket to the 21st Century.

Good luck, boys. Carry the torch. Hold it high.

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CHAPTER ONE

In the spring of 2991, Mr Snow, wordsmith of the Clan m'call, faced a

difficult decision. Should he accompany the clan's delegation to the

trading post on the shores of the Great River - or should he stay

behind in the hills of Wyoming in case the cloud-warrior returned with

Cadillac and Clearwater?

Two winters had passed since his charges had flown into the Eastern

Lands and it was almost a year since the cloud-warrior had gone in

search of them. Brickman had promised to help them escape from the

Iron Masters but that was easier said than done. The Dead-faces were a

fearsome race who lived behind closed borders. No Plainfolk Mute taken

away on the wheel-boats had ever regained his liberty. But Cadillac

and Clearwater were no ordinary Mutes. They had been born in the

shadow of Talisman, and Brickman, the cloud-warrior, was also gifted

and resourceful and as cunning as a coyote. And though he did not yet

understand why, he too had been touched by Talisman.

If there was a chance to escape then these three would seize it, for

between them they possessed the power to overturn nations. That had

been their destiny from the day they had been born. But where were

they? Day after day, Mr Snow had posted sentinels to keep a special

watch over the eastern approaches to the settlement but the

long-awaited travellers had failed to appear.

They were not dead. In an uncertain world, that was the only thing Mr

Snow was sure of. Cadillac and Clearwater were the sword and shield of

Talisman, saviour of the Plainfolk who - according to prophecy - was

due to appear in human form. Cadillac was to use his great gifts to

prepare .the way for Talisman, and Clearwater

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was to use the immense

forces at her command to protect the Thrice-Gifted One until his own

powers were fully formed. Which, for instance, would be the case if he

entered the world as a new-born child. On the other hand, if he was

present in someone already alive, with his powers over heaven and earth

lying dormant until the chosen moment, then her given task was to

protect that individual until Talisman chose to reveal himself. She

would do this instinctively, without necessarily understanding why,

because Talisman would draw her to him.

Mr Snow had often wondered if Steve Brickman bore the Talisman within

him. The cloud-warrior's descent from the sky into the hands of the

M'Calls had been foretold by the Sky Voices. He and Clearwater had

been destined to meet, and in giving herself to him body and soul she

had broken the solemn vows that bound her to Cadillac - grievously

wounding her former lover's pride in the process.

In time, Cadillac would get over it. It was he who had seen their

separation in the stones. Clearwater was destined to journey into the

dark world of the sand-burrowers that lay beneath the deserts of the

south.

Home of the iron-snakes that crawled through the land leaving a trail

of devastation behind them, and the arrowheads which carried the

cloud-warriors across the skies.

Warriors armed with long sharp iron and fire-seeds which erupted into

smoke and flame with the sound of earth-thunder.

Not the pure flame that swept the tree-spirits up towards the heavens

but an evil cousin conjured up by the sand-burrowers. A flame whose

thirst could not be quenched by water, that clung to flesh and burned

through to the bone.

Yes, these were dark days. The time known as The Great Dying had

come.

A time when the courage of the Plainfolk would be sorely tested.

Mo-Town, the Great Sky-Mother had withdrawn into the Black Tower of

Tamla to weep for her people. Many would perish but the Plainfolk

would survive and become a great nation under the banner of Talisman.

As a Mute, a revered sage and walking history book of the Clan m'call,

Mr Snow knew that the journey through the Valley of Death had to be

undertaken with as much good grace as one could muster. The Wheel

turned, The Path was drawn. Human beings could not change their

destiny; it was the hubris of the unenlightened that fostered the cruel

illusion they could do so.

But meanwhile, three of the principal players were missing. Where in

the name of Talisman were they? In a few days, the clan's trade

delegation would be ready to leave for the annual gathering on the

shores of the Great River. Mr Snow had two choices: to go with them,

or stay behind. And the cloud-warrior had two ways to return with

Cadillac and Clearwater: by smuggling themselves aboard one of the

giant wheel-boats due to travel along the Great River to the trading

post, or by a more direct, overland route through the territory that

had once belonged to the Io-Wa and Ne-Braska.

A year ago, Brickman had stolen aboard one of the wheel-boats at the

trading post and had been carried away to the Fire-Pits of Beth-Lem.

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If he had managed to complete the journey without being discovered he

might decide that this was the best way to return. In the bustle of

trading activity, with Mutes helping to load and unload the

wheel-boats, they would have an excellent opportunity to steal

ashore.

Once there they could rejoin their clanfolk, becoming part of the

delegation which would then travel home across the plains during the

period of truce known as 'Walking on the Water'.

That was the sensible way, but the journey from Ne-Issan took many days

- perhaps weeks. Finding a place on a wheel-boat where three people

could remain undetected for days on end would not be easy. Mr Snow had

been taken aboard one for a brief audience with Lord Yama-Shita. They

were giant structures but they also carried a large crew who constantly

swarmed back and forth like ants on a dunghill. And the wheel-boats

only came to the trading post once a year. To return via

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this route

meant boarding the right vessel at exactly the right moment. The

cloud-warrior was resourceful enough to gather this information but

what if they missed the boat? Or escaped much earlier and were unable

to take the longer but safer way home?

Mr Snow's dilemma arose from his desire to be at the chosen point of

arrival in case his powers were needed to fight off any pursuers. For

they would be pursued.

That was certain. Over the years of trading, he had come to understand

the character of the Iron Masters and their obsession with 'face', what

the Mutes called 'standing'. Because of the status accorded to

warriors, it was a concept the two races shared, but not to the same

degree. Mutes generally nursed their shattered pride then gave it

another shot. To the Iron Masters, loss of face was an unbearable

condition which, if the victim's sense of honour could not be regained,

often led to suicide. This concern with honour, impeccable behaviour

and faultless performance of one's duties only affected the pure-blood

ruling classes; the lower orders - the inferior races - were not graced

by such concerns. Which, according to his informant, explained why the

gods had condemned them to a life of servitude.

Yes... Given the nature of Cadillac's mission, their escape would cause

a definite loss of face, and the authorities concerned would spare no

effort to recapture them.

Failure to do so would cause heads to roll. Mr Snow who knew nothing

of the mayhem the trio had caused at the Heron Pool - was unaware that

in its bloody aftermath a great many already had. He only knew the

Iron Masters were tenacious adversaries who did not admit defeat. That

was why he had to be on hand in case they pursued his young charges

into the heartland of the Plainfolk.

But he could not be in two places at once and he could no longer

hesitate. He now had less than a week in which to make his decision.

Perhaps the Sky Voices would consent to guide him. He had consulted

them many times during the past year but they had greeted his questions

about Clearwater, Cadillac and the cloud-warrior with a baffling

silence. He clambered up to his favourite rock, sat down with his legs

crossed, took several deep breaths while he admired the view, then

raised his closed eyes and opened his mind to the sky.

For a long while it seemed as if the staff of this spiritual advice

bureau was out to lunch but eventually a series of pictures appeared

before his inner eye. Soul-searing images of death and destruction on

an unparalleled scale; a grisly drama in which he had been given a

starring role.

Mr Snow was renowned for his courage and resolution but even his

indomitable heart quailed at this new burden that Fate had thrust upon

him. And what made it worse was the knowledge that these fleeting

images were merely a foretaste of what was to come. But there could be

no turning back. The Sky Voices had spoken - and had left him in no

doubt as to what he had to do.

Some two thousand miles to the east of the M'Call settlement, Ieyasu,

Lord Chamberlain of the Inner Court, grand-uncle and principal advisor

to the Shogun Yoritomo Toh-Yota, absolute ruler of Ne-Issan, was also

beset by problems that demanded resolution.

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If Mr Snow was old, Ieyasu was ancient, but they had many qualities in

common including keen eyes and fire in their belly. Both were shrewd,

highly intelligent and infinitely wise in the ways of the world even

though the societies in which they lived were totally dissimilar except

for their respect of physical courage and the code of honour which

formed the basis of the warrior ethos.

Mr Snow could not read or write but possessed gifts of memory and

magic: Ieyasu was literate, extremely well educated and although he was

unable to summon earth and sky forces to his aid, the skill and cunning

with which he outmanoeuvred all those who sought to remove him from

power was little short of supernatural.

Before Yoritomo's accession to the throne at the tender age of

twenty-three, Ieyasu had exercised absolute power in the name of the

Shogun's dissolute father. Yoritomo,

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now twenty-nine, was made of

different cloth. Restrained in his sexual appetites, something of an

ascetic in his attitude to food and drink, overburdened with a tiresome

morality and obsessed with traditional values, Yoritomo had proved

particularly difficult to deal with. And the main source of difficulty

was his determination to take sole charge of the nation's affairs and

ignore the voice of experience. The voice, of course, being that of

his granduncle.

It was hard enough trying to keep the government afloat and

conspirators at bay without having to reeducate an aspiring saint who

was trying to manoeuvre you out of office. In time, Yoritomo would

learn. But he would learn a lot quicker and make life a lot easier for

everyone by absorbing the distilled wisdom of his grand-uncle.

Something he had done with the utmost reluctance.

In part, it was a natural reaction to the moral laxity which had

pervaded the Inner Court during his father's reign. As a new broom,

Yoritomo wanted to make a clean sweep. A perfectly laudable aim. The

court was in need of a thorough spring cleaning. But in politics one

never did anything to excess. Yoritomo did not understand the

importance of leaving a little dirt in the corners. His puritanical

streak - laudable in a monk but utterly depressing in a vigorous,

intelligent young man holding the highest office in the land - was

blinding him to the realities of power.

The young shogun had not yet grasped an essential truth: exploiting the

weaknesses of powerful men - especially powerful opponents - was an

important element in the art of statecraft. It was also true that a

nation needed honest men of high principle and modest ambition. They

made excellent civil servants.

The government revenue and customs houses and the postal service were

always crying out for more. Sinners, on the other hand, made better

dinner companions. And they were a lot easier to do business with.

Ieyasu was also a traditionalist, as opposed to those who favoured

progressive ideals - a group of domain-lords led by the Yama-Shita

family. But the progress advocated by this cabal of entrepreneurs was

restricted to the introduction of new industrial processes and

manufacturing techniques. No one, however radical their ideas were in

that direction, was in favour of modernising the feudal system on which

Ne-Issan had been built.

The problem - in Ieyasu's eyes at least - was that you could not have

one without undermining the other. And none of the seventeen ruling

samurai families was prepared to surrender an ounce of power or

privilege to the lower classes. It was the merchants who argued the

case for an expanding economy and the benefits to be gained by

increasing the purchasing power of the masses by if you please - paying

tradesmen and servants higher wages! Some had even suggested setting

up trade links with the long-dogs inhabiting the buried cities beyond

the Western Hills - but what else could one expect from chinamen who

had an abacus where their brains should be?

The greatest bar to progress was the immutable edict which forbade,

under pain of death, the reintroduction of the Dark Light. It was also

a treasonable offence for lesser mortals to utter its name and such was

the dread it inspired, even those at the pinnacle of power only did so

with the greatest circumspection. According to the scrolls which

chronicled the distant past, the creation of the Dark Light electricity

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- had corrupted mankind and led the gods to destroy The World Before

with a tidal wave of golden fire. A wave that had engulfed the ancient

homeland of the Iron Masters, and which was so high, it had covered the

peak of Fuji, the sacred mountain which contained the soul of Nippon.

As a result, there was a deeply-held belief that to seek to resurrect

the Dark Light would be an act of incredible folly which would once

again place the world in mortal peril.

But, as Ieyasu knew, the world of Ne-Issan was bordered by the

Appalachians and the Eastern Sea. There was another vaster world

beyond the Western Hills,

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inhabited by grass-monkeys and long-dogs:

Plainfolk Mutes and Trackers - the soldier-citizens of the Amtrak

Federation. The Mutes were hairy savages, semi-nomadic hunters with no

craft skills beyond those needed to support their simple mode of

life.

All their edged-weapons, crossbows and metal implements were supplied

by the Iron Masters. But the Trackers were warriors who had no fear of

the Dark Light. It was the life-force of their underground society.

It enabled them to send images and voices through the air, it powered

their weapons, their giant, caterpillar-like land-cruisers and their

sky-chariots - war-machines which entered the cloud-realm of the kami

with impunity and were not cast down.

Their presence posed a threat to the world of Ne-Issan yet

Amaterasu-Omikami stood aside and did nothing. Their underground

cities were not crushed, and the world beyond the Appalachians was not

ravaged by heavenly fire - a theological conundrum that was studiously

ignored by the leading sages of the Shinto priesthood.

Ieyasu knew the answer. The Dark Light was neither good nor bad.

Electricity was a power that lay at the heart of the natural world. It

could be captured by special, cunningly-wrought machines and conveyed

along special threads from one place to another, or shot through the

air like an invisible arrow that flew across plains, mountains.

and seas within the space of a single heartbeat.

Like all power, it could be used and abused. It could corrupt, in the

same way that sake addled the brains of drunkards and opium destroyed

the will of addicts. But in its pure state, it was not inherently

evil. Electricity had been created to be the slave of man. Only if

the man was weak could the slave became his master. Ieyasu had certain

foibles but he was not a weak man. He enjoyed the attendant luxury his

privileged birth and high rank afforded him but he was consumed by

nothing except the desire to manipulate the reins of power to the

ultimate benefit of the Toh-Yota family and the Shogun.

In that order. Ieyasu ate well, drank judiciously, and kept his gaunt,

aging body in trim by practising his swordsmanship. He enjoyed male

and female company and could still produce a commendable erection which

a select circle of court ladies - ever anxious to advance themselves or

the careers of their husbands - accommodated by supplying him with a

string of pubescent nymphets.

The Dark Light might kill him but it would never enslave him. Ieyasu

knew this because it had served him well over many years. Key members

of his private network of secret agents had been using high-powered

radio transceivers and other electronic devices for the last ten

years.

The same type of equipment used by the secret agents of the Federation

and which, after a series of stealthy contacts, had been supplied by

them to Ieyasu's organization under the terms of a secret protocol

signed by him and Commander-General Karlstrom, the head of AMEXICO.

Among the items covered was the return of any mexican caught by the

Plainfolk Mutes and sold to the Iron Masters. Other clauses outlined

mutually-beneficial arrangements for the pooling of specific types of

information, for example - the kinds of weapons the Iron Masters

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