The lead carrier rocked over a bump. Metal clanged on metal. The lights flashed into the djevodas' eyes.
It was a signal. With a deafening roar, a djevoda lunged forward.
The carrier's brakes screamed.
But already the mountainous beast was thundering down upon it. Like an avalanche of flesh and bone, it crashed into the vehicle. Screams clashed with the shriek of rending metal.
Craig blazed with the fire-gun at the packed, elephantine mass of animated death below him.
Bellowing with rage and pain, the whole herd swept forward—on into the pass, following the already-charging leaders.
More carriers braked and crashed into each other.
Then the herd was upon them, smashing at them. Green fire seared through the night, mingling with the crashing thunder of some other, heavier weapon. Craig glimpsed a djevoda torn asunder in mid-stride, its six massive legs gone suddenly limp and sprawling.
But no human power could stop that hurtling, murderous tidal wave of flesh. Through the whole column the djevodas raged—crushing carriers, overturning them, stomping them to masses of shapeless metal.
At the far end of the pass, the last of the vehicles wheeled about in blind, desperate haste. Engines roaring, they raced for the safety of the open grasslands.