Hunt the Space-Witch! by Robert Silverberg Page B

his hands, Dovirr faced his men, who stood numbed with astonishment.
    â€œForward!” he shouted. “The Dhuchay’y have come back!”
    Indeed it was so.
    The gruesome creatures slinking from the depths of Vostrok could only be Dhuchay’y , come to reclaim the world they had transformed into a globe of water and then abandoned.
    They walked erect; including tail, they measured twice a man’s length. Their hind feet were thick and fleshy, terminating in webbed claws; the hands, curiously man-like, were poised for combat, holding wedge-shaped knives. They advanced at an accelerating pace. Dovirr led his men forward to meet them with desperate haste.
    As he drew near, he saw the delicate fringe of gills near the blunt snout; the creatures were equipped for action on land or sea. A chilling thought gripped Dovirr; what if a swarm of the Dhuchay’y were to force him and his men into the water, then follow after and slay them as they swam?
    He closed with them, Kubril at his side. His voice rose to a piercing shriek. “Kill them! Kill!”
    Leather-webbed feet flashed around him as he drove into the midst of the alien horde. His sword flickered overhead, chopped downward, and sliced through a Dhuchay’y arm. The member fell; the knife it had held clinked against the concrete. The alien uttered a whistling scream of pain; golden blood spurted.
    In fear-maddened rage, Dovirr’s men charged the aliens. Dovirr smiled at the sight of the javelin of giant Zhoncoru humming into a scaly bosom; his own sword bit deep into a meaty flank. Once again, the teachings of Gowyn had stood him in good stead; taken by surprise, the aliens were dropping back. Already one bloody form lay sprawled on the pier, pierced by thirty Sea-Lord thrusts while another mighty bulk was toppling. At Dovirr’s side, Kubril thrust his spear into the falling creature and aided it in its descent.
    Holding the spear like a lance, Kubril thrust it into another alien that menaced Dovirr. A torrent of blood issued from the torn belly.
    â€œThanks,” Dovirr murmured, and sliced into an alien eye with a tiptoe thrust. The pier was covered now with mingled golden and red blood; it was slippery, treacherous, and Dovirr within his armor was bathed in sweat.
    The aliens were yielding, though. Three now lay dead; a fourth was staggering from its wounds, while of the remaining four, not one had escaped damage. Dovirr himself weaved in and out of the struggling group, and had so far evaded harm; Kubril had been struck by raking talons but seemed little the worse for it, while the javelin-man Zhoncoru bore a ragged cut down his tanned cheek.
    Glancing quickly to one side, Dovirr saw three of his men dead in a welter of blood. There was little time for sorrow. His sword slashed through an alien gill, eliciting a shriek of pain that brought momentary near-pity to Dovirr’s eyes. Then the wounded alien sliced the plume from Dovirr’s helmet; laughing, the Sea-Lord thrust through the creature’s throat.
    Dovirr drew back, gasping for breath; the stink of the dying monsters was overpowering. Rivers of sweat poured into his eyes. Writhing aliens lay everywhere.
    â€œNo, ” Dovirr said out loud with sudden hoarseness. He caught Kubril’s arms; the first officer had been striking a vicious blow at a dying Dhuchay’y .
    He pointed toward the distant city. Coming toward them, talons thundering over the stone, were reinforcements—
    Hundreds of them!
    â€œTo the ship!” Dovirr called. It was the only possible step; twenty-five Terrans could never hold off against an uncountable multitude of the alien invaders. He led the retreat; the surviving swordsmen dragged dead and dying into the boats, and they struck out for the waiting Garyun .
    Dovirr saw the ship heave anchor and begin moving rapidly toward them. Obviously Dwayorn, the seaman left in command; had seen the melee on shore and was coming in to pick the